The Wheels On The Bus Chapter 14

XIV.

Belphegor has never been happier to jump into Hell. 

Most of the ghosts around the rift are more focused on crawling their way out of it, so when they notice that he and Michael are trying to get in, they decide to stop grabbing at them and just let them be. Let idiots be idiots and all that, although that doesn’t stop Michael from swinging at the ones that are in their way as they plunge down the rift.

Belphegor lands on heated, hard ground on his shoulder, letting out a grunt. 

“Ow,” he says, pushing himself up carefully. He hazards touching his shoulder and finds that the joint has popped out of place. Wincing, he grits his teeth and shoves it back into place, thankful for once that he’s a demon and not human. He looks up at Michael. “Unfair for you to land on your feet while I dislocated a shoulder.”

“You should be careful, that’s not your body.”

“Yeah, well, Jack’s not using it, it’s fine,” he says, standing up with a stagger. He takes in an unnecessary breath. The air reeks of sulfur. 

“Where to?” Michael asks. 

Belphegor surveys the area, studying the decor to get his bearings. 

“We go down, first,” he says, looking back up at the rift. Angry, jagged rocks poke out from the split in the ground, impossibly leading up to Earth when there should be a more metaphysical distance between the world and Hell. “We’re in the corridors for the Second Circle.”

Michael steps aside, letting Belphegor amble forward. The angel follows him as he continues down the narrow walkway, which opens up to a wider corridor that only leads to the left. Belphegor takes the turn. 

“You spent centuries cleaning this place?” Michael asks.

“If it was the only job they had for me,” Belphegor says. “This place used to be more - “ he waves a hand. “Hellish. Crowley renovated.”

“How much?” Michael asks. “I haven’t exactly had the time for a field trip prior to escaping the Cage.”

“Uh, a lot,” Belphegor says. “For one, we have more offices now. The entirety of the fifth circle is just an endless spiralling queue - which takes up more space than how the fifth originally was, by the way; a lot of us were pissed because we had to do the renovations - and the third circle looks like a cannibalistic version of dogscape. I have been eternally thankful that no one’s supposed to clean there on purpose.”

“I’m not getting the last part, but you’re obviously disgusted by it.”

“You’ll see, we’re on our way down there,” Belphegor says. “I fucking hate it.”

Michael hums. “Where is Lilith’s Chamber, then?”

“Left penthouse suite of the Pandæmonium,” Belphegor says. “Nobody gets the top floors other than the bigwig demons. Nobody else is allowed there either, except of course, if you’re a secretary or cleaning staff.”

“And you were cleaning staff.”

“And pencil-pusher,” Belphegor turns to him with a grin. “I know my way around Pandæmonium with my eyes closed.”

Michael returns his grin with a small, conspiring smile. A sudden image comes up in Belphegor’s mind - one of silver cities; bright, warm lights; and hymns. 

He blinks. He hasn’t had a memory of Heaven in a while. He barely remembers Heaven at all, and not because he doesn’t want to. He just literally can’t. He hasn’t been able to since his Fall.

He turns back to the corridor. Up ahead, there’s several doors, all leading to offices and break rooms. There’s a set of stairs that lead downwards. 

“Ah, here we go,” Belphegor says. “These corridors surround the circle for the demons to file in reports and then go back out if they’re on torture duty. Downstairs is the Third Circle.”

“The cannibalistic version of dogscape?”

“You wanna go look at it?” Belphegor’s smile takes on something more mischievous. “It’s probably empty now anyway, if they somehow managed to crawl their way out of their fucked up twister game.”

Michael only responds with a thoughtful hum. 

“Come on,” Belphegor says. “If I had to look at that thing for years, then so do you.”

-

Dean looks pissed. Adam turns to Castiel - who’d dragged him and Jack out the booth so they could talk outside - looking betrayed.

“I didn’t think you were going to drag him here,” he says.

“He didn’t need to, I would have come here anyway,” Dean says. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Saving your dumb ass and everybody else in this gym,” Adam says, crossing his arms.

“You could have been fucking killed,” Dean says. He turns to Jack, but the boy doesn’t offer any defense, instead just sheepishly looking down at the floor.

“Dean,” Castiel says, putting a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. There’s still people around them who can overhear, after all. They’ll be confused, but it’s better to keep as much under wraps as possible.

Dean closes his eyes and forces himself to take in a breath, clenching and unclenching his hands. When he opens them, a few minutes later, he looks much calmer, although his jaw is still tight.

“Where’s Sam?” Jack asks.

“Outside, taking care of things,” Dean says. “And checking the salt line.”

“Hey, we fixed it right. If we didn’t, we’d all be dead right now,” Adam says. 

“He’s making sure there are no other breaks,” Dean says. “And you shouldn’t have done that anyway.”

“Too late, Belphegor and Michael are on their way to Hell right now,” Adam says.

Dean’s jaw tightens even further, but he says nothing. Castiel still has not removed his hand from the man’s shoulder.

After another few minutes of silence, Dean speaks again. “You’re sure their plan will work?”

“I don’t know about will, but we know it can work,” Adam says. “Belphegor made the damn crook, he’d know the capabilities of it.”

“I wasn’t told that,” Dean says, turning to Cas.

“Neither was I,” Castiel says.

“Ah.” Adam shifts on his feet. “T-L-D-R is that Belphegor used to be a weapons tech in Hell before he got demoted to prevent any opposition in power. He made Lilith’s Crook.”

“He’d know how to tweak it to use it against us too, wouldn’t he?” Dean asks.

Adam quiets. Jack glances at him. 

“Yes,” Adam says. “But that’s why Michael’s with him.”

“Would an archangel’s power be enough to rival a demon who’s absorbed what would essentially be the entirety of Hell?” 

Ah. 

Well, they hadn’t thought of that, really.

“Michael’s smart,” Jack says. “He’ll handle it.”

Dean doesn’t look satisfied with the answer, but Adam doesn’t blame him. The situation’s already as tense as it is, they don’t need a new problem coming out of the works to fuck them all over. “He better be able to.”

“We’ll deal with it when it comes to it,” Adam says. “Plus, I don’t think Belphegor’s going to betray us.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” Adam says, but then snorts. “But he’s also scared shitless of the world ending.”

“Less shit to blow up?”

“No, he likes it up here,” Jack says.

“And you believe him because he told you so?” Dean asks. He sounds almost disappointed, which is fair. His entire career means the paranoid gets to live, after all, and he knows Belphegor less than he knows everyone else on their side.

“Yes,” Jack says. 

Castiel looks like he’s trying not to frown. 

Dean hesitates. “Jack - “

“I can see your point,” Jack says, adamant. “But we’re the ones who’ve spent time with him. He’s been helping us.”

“Doing what, shoplifting and breaking out the bunker?”

Adam puts a hand on Jack’s arm. There’s still no reason for them to reveal their hand, even if the situation seems dire. They need to keep them going behind the scenes a secret for as long as they can. 

Jack glances at him, conflicted, but backs down.

“Look, Belphegor created the crook,” Adam says. “He’s smart. Really smart. How do you think he immediately figured out a way to set up a barrier around town? And you told us he managed to banish all the ghosts in the cemetery during the night the rift was broken, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, tentative, but he’s listening. 

“There could have been a thousand different ways to do either of those, or, only a handful. You think it’s just pure luck that all the ingredients just happened to be in the area for those spells? The universe doesn’t hand you coincidences - “ Well, they do for Sam and Dean, but Adam’s pitching something here, so he keeps quiet on that. “ - Belphegor narrowed shit down so he could use a spell with what was available in the area.”

“It could just be coincidence,” Dean says. 

“Twice in a row?” Adam asks. “Since when were you guys that lucky?”

Dean pauses, and then concedes. “You got me there.”

“He’s scary smart, and I bet he could have found a way to fuck everyone over if he really wanted to, but instead he’s helping,” Adam says. “I think we can trust him. Worse comes to worse, Michael can smite him.”

“You’d bet on him being on our side?’

“Yeah,” Adam says. “It’s the apocalypse, right? We’re already on the losing side, what’s a few risks?”

Dean snorts, but he doesn’t seem angry. He pauses again, for a few more minutes, before he lets out a breath. He’s quieter when he’s exhausted, Adam thinks. Less stubborn. Or he’s just as desperate to put an end to the standoff outside as everyone else.

“Okay,” he says, eventually.

“Yeah?” Jack sound hopeful.

“Yeah, it’s the apocalypse. We’re already fucked,” Dean says. Tiredly, he steps back to lean on the wall behind him. He looks fucking terrible, covered in scratches and dirt. 

“What the fuck happened to you out there?” Adam asks.

“Ghosts. Too many of them. You’ve seen them,” Dean says. “Had to beat them off before we could complete the salt circle.”

“Do you think they’re all from the rift?” Jack asks.

“They should be, but…” Dean trails off, and then frowns, focused on a spot on the floor. The rigidity returns to his shoulders. 

He pushes off the wall. “Shit.”

“What?” Adam asks. “What is it?”

“It’s a hunch, but this is likely a planned attack. Someone’s coordinating this. It’s way too convenient for this many ghosts to jump us when they could just wander anywhere if the barrier around town’s broken,” he says. “And if all the doors of Hell are open - “

“All the high ranking demons would be too,” Castiel says, nodding.

Dean runs a hand through his hair, slightly frustrated. Then he snaps his fingers and points to Adam. “Okay, med student, you’re up.”

Adam blinks. “Me?”

“We’ve got people watching the barrier, but since it’s still holding, there’s no reason for us to not patch up the injured. We’re raiding the infirmary,” he says. He points to Jack. “You, you’re back-up in case something gets inside here. The second things get ugly and the hunters posted around here can’t handle it, you smite on sight. Got it?”

Jack nods. “Got it,” he says. 

“Dean, you know we have to keep him from looking like a threat to Chuck,” Cas says. 

“I know,” Dean says. “And we’ll hold the fort, but in case something goes wrong - because with our shit luck, we can’t count on anything - just in case, he’s our last shot.”

There’s a flicker of fear in Castiel’s eyes, terrified for his son. He looks out at the sea of people in the gym.

He nods. “Alright,” he says.

“Rowena’s still around, right?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah, she’s giving the salt line outside more juice,” Dean says. “We have no idea if it’ll break if there are enough ghosts.”

“It’s probably best if she stays here, then, in case it does,” Castiel says. 

“Not like she can get out with those many ghosts arounds,” Dean says. “Adam.”

Adam follows after him as he heads for the stairs, but then he nearly stumbles as he feels a thought laced with so much panic being shoved into his head, haphazard and frantic.

Milligan? It’s Belphegor. The barrier around town is still standing. 

“What?” Adam says, and doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until he notices that Dean has paused, and looks like he’s about to repeat the plan, but Adam holds up a hand to stop him.

The barrier’s still standing? He throws back to Belphegor.

Yeah, Belphegor says. The ghosts attacking the school - they’re from outside. 

There’s other rifts in town?

Listen, I don’t know - ow, fuck - but it doesn’t matter, Belphegor’s thoughts swim around for a brief second. Wherever they’re coming from, it’s - 

“A coordinated attack,” Adam looks at Dean, meeting his eyes. “It’s Belphegor - telepathy and all that, we promised each other to keep in contact - the barrier around town is still standing.”

Dean’s eyes widen for just the briefest of moments. 

“Shit.”

-

Because Hell doesn’t exist in the same plane of existence as Earth, there’s no reason for it to abide by Earth’s rules of physics, and so the geography of Hell is, by human standards, a mess. 

Not that any human marching down there, for whatever reason (although said might be because: Winchester) would notice, since humans tend to use old experiences as baselines in order to better understand new experiences, and thus usually only perceive things that they already know. Put simply, anyone going down Hell would think that it was just like Earth, with directions that made sense, just a little hotter and a lot more...hellish. 

Except Michael and Belphegor are not human beings, and are fully capable of perceiving Hell in all its glory, so as Belphegor leads them past the ninth circle, Michael immediately notices that instead of going downwards, they’re going upwards, but not back the way they came from. 

“Interesting,” he says. “And where would the Cage be?”

“Below the ninth circle and below this city,” Belphegor says. “If you’re like, hiking on foot. Obviously, there’s other ways of getting there. It’s also a long drop. I’ve never been there, I’ve only glimpsed it a bit.”

Michael hums. “And upwards, we’d get to Lilith’s Chamber?”

“Yep.”

The hallways of the building are deserted, although that’s to be expected. The very second the doors got thrown open, all the demons also probably thought to abandon their posts and head for the surface, if not to wreak havoc then to escape the horrors of Hell. 

Pandæmonium doesn’t look anything like the rest of Hell, though. Its walls and floors are stone, sure, but dated architecture is a far cry from human souls stuffed into one area too small to hold all of them, forcing them all to get their limbs tangled and tangled and tangled to the point where they’re all twisted up together. The cursed things were still granted the ability to feel hunger and appear to have never been fed since they’ve been dropped into Hell.

Michael had taken on Belphegor’s offer to give him a peek of the Third Circle, so the demon had opened one of the doors that lead to a mezzanine overlooking the circle and he’d looked over the edge. The circle wasn’t so much a circle as an impossibly massive tank that wasn’t even close to full, but the circumference of the area was so small that all the bodies were piling up below and squirming as all the spirits cried out for food. Some of them were eating each other in their desperation, and a few had somehow realized that the demons that usually tormented them even further had disappeared, and that it’s been too long since they’ve been left alone. Unfortunately, the few who’d noticed this couldn’t get very far, as their legs and their arms (and a few necks) were still bent and twisted around all the other souls near them, and they only got as far as clawing over each other, never gaining an inch. 

“If they’re going to get out of here, they’re going to have to move all at once, with precise coordination,” Michael had said. Belphegor had immediately looked green in the face and said, “Please never let me think up that image again.”

Compared to that, Pandæmonium is just a regular, if badly-decorated building. It’s tall, but thankfully, time in Hell is slower than Earth’s, so their hours of running up the stairs are likely just going to be seconds on Earth. 

Which works in their favor, because after several winding staircases, they’re finally in front of Lilith’s Chamber. 

The doors are wide open, and the whole place looks empty. 

Belphegor, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath (drama queen, he doesn’t even need to breathe), looks at the open doors and yells, “You have to be shitting me!”

“Scavengers?” Michael asks.

“I’m guessing,” Belphegor says, “Let’s just hope they didn’t take the crook’s box.”

Michael lets him have the brief rest. After a minute, Belphegor stands and heads for the room, still a little unsteady on his feet. 

A rather sharp spear whizzes past him.

“What the fuck!” Belphegor yells, lucky enough that the spear misses his side by a narrow centimeter and instead lands behind him, embedding itself into the stone floor.

There’s a demon in the room, looking just as panicked as Belphegor, although his expression eases when he sees exactly who’s in front of him. It flickers back into uneasiness when he spots Michael, though.

“Belp?” the demons asks. He doesn’t move from his place. 

Belphegor turns back to the room. “Malfayan?” He surveys the place, the empty room and the open doors, and the bag that Malfayan is carrying. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Malfayan instantly goes rigid. One hand goes up to the string of the bag he’s slung over his shoulder. “What? Not like Lilith’s coming back.”

“Yeah, okay,” Belphegor says. The demon takes a step back, a little to the side, putting enough distance between him and the spear that he’d be able to grab it. Michael watches his hands. 

Ah. The angel keeps his eyes on Malfayan. 

“Here with a crew?” Belphegor asks. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

“I’m not,” Malfayan says. He came here alone, then, but he couldn’t have cleaned the whole place out himself. He’s only got one measly bag with him, and a ring on his hand.

“Course you’re not,” Belphegor says. 

“Didn’t take you for the type.” Malfayan nods towards Michael. “What, are you working with angels now?”

“Eh, you know, desperate times, it’s a wild world up there,” Belphegor says. “It’s the End and all that.”

“It’s always the end every other year or so,” Malfayan says. “Those Winchesters get into a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, they’re klutzes with apocalypses, but it looks like this one’s gonna be the big one though. The end to end all ends and shit. The big man upstairs himself said so,” Belphegor says. He attempts a shrug, but Michael’s seen the demon do it enough times to know that he’s on edge. “Winchesters pissed off the wrong guy this time.”

“Really?” Malfayan looks surprised. “They pissed off the big man himself?”

“Yep,” Belphegor says. “Fuckin’ impressive if you ask me, but the rest of us are going down with them, so - “ He waves a hand behind him, gesturing towards Michael. “Temporary truce it is. ‘Sides, this guy’s been in Hell long enough too.”

Malfayan frowns slightly, and then turns his attention to Michael. At first, nothing happens, but then the expression on his face slowly morphs into one of horror. “Archangel Michael.”

“The one and only,” Belphegor says. “What, you didn’t recognize him?”

“Not everyone remembers Heaven, Bel, you know that,” Malfayan snaps, giving Belphegor a nasty look.

Belphegor’s shoulders stiffen. Slowly, like he’s forcing himself to let the tension go, they relax, but only by a bit. “Yeah,” he says. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Whatever. Say, you wouldn’t know if there’s a chest still in there, right? Seen anyone grab it, maybe? Nondescript little thing, has some squiggles on it?”

Malfayan doesn’t answer. 

“Mal?” Belphegor asks. 

The demon shoots a hand - the one with the ring - forward.

“Michael, get down!”

Michael does as he’s told, dropping down to the ground, but makes sure to keep his eyes forward. He feels the air above him suddenly go cold and empty, like the very particles of reality and space above it are being obliterated. Belphegor himself has ducked, but he grabs the spear and lunges forward, keeping his body low, torso parallel to the ground as he rushes at Malfayan.

“I’m still a demon, you dumb fuck!” Belphegor yells, stabbing the spear into Malfayan’s host’s stomach, before the momentum of his lunge crashes him into his fellow demon’s knees. Both of them go tumbling onto the floor, Malfayan landing awkwardly on whatever’s inside his bag.

Michael hazards a look upwards. The space above him is empty.

Not empty as in there’s nothing. Empty as in he’s looking at nothing. There’s no wall, no space between the ceiling and the floor - nothing. Just pure empty blackness like someone had ripped the picture of reality open. 

Someone cracks a blow on a jaw, and he turns his attention back to the fight in front of him, pushing himself forward so he can stand safely without hitting whatever’s going on with the patch of emptiness above him.

“Then why’d you duck, moron!”

“Because that ring is unstable as shit!” 

Belphegor lands another punch at Malfayan’s face, but the demon screams and smashes his forehead against Belphegor’s, knocking him backwards. Taking advantage of Belphegor’s momentary incapacitation, Malfayan stumbles to his feet, the spear still sticking out of his side. He’s keeping his eyes on Belphegor who’s pushing himself to sit up by his elbows, so Michael steps forward, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and clamps a hand on the demon’s head.

Michael catches a glimpse of the terror in his eyes.

In a flash of light, the demon is gone, leaving only its host with a spear sticking out of its side. Michael checks for a soul inside the body as he keeps his hold on it, and finds something small and curled up still tucked away inside of it. 

Carefully, he sets the body down on the floor, taking the bag off its shoulders and pushing it aside. He grabs the spear’s handle and yanks it out, before hovering a hand over the body’s injury, closing the wound up.

“I had that handled,” Belphegor says, breathing hard. His glasses are missing - Michael sees them at the side, one frame broken - and he’s bleeding from his forehead. 

“Sure you did,” Michael says. He stands, having finished healing the human’s wound. He turns back towards the hallway. The patch of nothing there seems to be slowly healing, particles of what should be there drifting back into place. “What was that?”

“Haxon ring,” Belphegor says, motioning to the human’s hand. “It’s an anti-angel weapon. Basically sucks all the grace out of you.”

“One of yours?”

“No.” Belphegor looks offended. “It’s Lilith’s. She never perfected it, not without any angels to test it on. It’s unstable.” He tries to stand, but then winces and sits back down. “Ow.”

“You actually feel the pain?”

“I’m trying not to, I’ve been getting used to being in a body these last few weeks,” Belphegor says. 

“I’d heal you, but it would probably kill you,” Michael says.

“Yeah, I’ll risk this instead,” Belphegor says. “Check his bag, I’ll go look at everything else.”

Michael nods, kneeling beside the sleeping human to open Malfayan’s bag, while Belphegor crawls away until he eventually manages to stand, although he nearly trips on his feet as he makes for the shelves. 

It turns out there’s only one thing in Malfayan’s bag, large enough that even with the drawstring pulled taut, the opening could barely close. Michael carefully takes it out, just in case it’s explosive. 

It’s a box. Nondescript little thing. Has squiggles on it. 

“Belphegor.”

“Mm?” Belphegor looks almost drunk as he turns, listing to the side before he puts a hand on the shelf to steady himself. 

Michael lifts the box. “I found it.”

The demon nearly trips again as he runs forward, pinwheeling his arms to prevent himself from losing his balance. His knees smack against the hard floor from how quickly he gets down. 

Michael lets him pick the box up and attempt to pry it open with his hands. It doesn’t budge.

“Good. Okay. It’s still sealed,” he says. “Now - I’d open this if I could, but while I made the crook, Lilith was the one who sealed it in this thing, so even I couldn’t use it if I somehow got my hands on it.”

“I know, you’ve said this.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, and hesitates.

“But?”

“Well,” Belphegor says. “I promise you I’m not shitting you but - “ He twists the box in his arms so that it’s facing Michael and he can read the enochian on it rightside up. “ - you’re gonna have to sing this.”

Michael blinks.

“I swear on my wings, I am not fucking with you right now.”

Michael turns to the sleeping human, snoring away and unaware that he’s just been exorcised, and then to the hallway, where the patch of empty is now about the size of a human hand and is getting smaller. 

He sighs, grabbing the box.

Belphegor’s grin is shit-eating. 

“I hate you,” Michael says. 

“Way ahead of you, dude, now get on it.”

Michael lets out another sigh, reading the inscription. He’s doing this shit for Adam. 

He keeps his eyes on the box as he sings, not even risking a glance up at Belphegor. This must be what mortification feels like, which is new, and not even the surprising sort of new. It’s just new and disgusting and he hates it. 

The box’s lid shifts, the fine ridge between it and the chest’s body widening as it pops free. 

“I hated that,” Michael says. 

“Learn something new everyday, turns out you hate singing,” Belphegor says, and when Michael looks up, the demon looks insufferably smug. He only stops himself from swinging a punch because they’re on a mission right now. 

Belphegor opens the lid, lifting out a horn from the box. Lilith’s Crook.

“I’m going to have to set the range for this thing,” Belphegor says. “Because it’s not a one-size-fits-all power siphon, it registers intent.”

“So you can either control everyone under the alliance of Hell, or you can simply subsume them,” Michael says. 

“Yes,” Belphegor says. They both share a look for a moment. “We’re facing off against the apocalypse…”

“Could you release anything you’ve subsumed?”

Belphegor shakes his head. “No. I can change this, of course, but as it is, I can’t release anything I’d absorb. They’d just be turned into energy.”

Michael nods. “We’ll talk specifics later then. I want you to focus on controlling everything first, make the spirits around the school stop their attack.”

Belphegor nods. He gets to his feet, raising the crook.

Just as he brings it to his lips, a clap rings out in the hallway in front of them. 

Then another, and another, the amused applause of someone who’s been watching them the whole time. 

Michael steps forward, one arm held out, like shielding Belphegor and the crook from view would help. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect Hell’s weapons genius and Heaven’s battle tactician to genuinely work together,” Chuck Shurley says. He smiles. “Michael.”

Michael frowns. “Father.”