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last01standingTitle: Five For Fighting (10/12)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam centered with an epic supporting cast
Notes: I pretty much wrote this entire fic for this chapter. Just sayin'.
Summary: For the Winchester brothers hockey was always something apart from hunting until one season it suddenly wasn’t.
For those of you not familiar with hockey, you can read a quick primer on game basics here
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | epilogue
Five For Fighting
CHAPTER 10: Lucifer Rising
“I’m sorry,” Andy said, an edge of panic in his voice. “But did I just hear you say that the apocalypse has started?”
Sam stood, rounding on Castiel. “Where were the angels in all this? I thought they were supposed to be fighting. Because in between hockey and freaking demons, we sure as hell have been fighting!”
“The legions of hell proved too strong,” Castiel said tersely. “It seems that hell wants all out war.”
Ben sank down against the couch. “I’m guessing all out war between Heaven and Hell isn’t something humanity’s going to survive.”
“It is entirely likely that all life on Earth will be annihilated.”
“So we stop it,” Jess said. “There’s got to be a way, right? Even if all of these seals have fallen, there’s still got to be a way.”
“The best way would be to head Lucifer off. To prevent him from choosing his vessel. Once he has chosen, I fear that only Michael’s sword has a chance to stop the inevitable.”
“So we find Michael’s sword,” Dean said. “Easy. Find a sword and chop up the Devil. I’ve always wanted to use a sword. It’s more or less like a really big knife, right?”
“Michael’s sword is really more of a metaphor for Michael’s vessel.”
“So Michael’s vessel and Lucifer’s vessel, are they just any random person or can they be any guy off the street.”
“There are... finite possibilities for their vessels. It takes a very special person to play host to an angel.”
Dean shrugged. “So we find these guys and we tell them to just say no. Then done. Apocalypse over.”
“It’s not that simple,” Castiel protested. “We have identified three different possible vessels for each Michael and Lucifer. All of them reside in the National Hockey League.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Andy said. “Please tell me he’s kidding.”
“So pick your favorite,” Dean said. “We’ll stake them out whenever we can. Make sure they don’t have a chance to get possessed. Problem solved. Come on, Cas. Who do you like.”
Castiel fell quiet for a long moment. There was a curious slump to his shoulders and Dean could almost imagine his wings expressing his regret. He looked pointedly at Sam and then Dean.
Jess made the connection before either of the Winchester brothers. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. These two? Sam and Dean are going to be key players in an apocalypse? If you told me Sean Avery was going to be the Devil and Pavel Datsyuk the angel, I might believe you. Might.”
“It’s not going to happen, Cas,” Dean said. “There’s no way Sam’s going to be the Devil’s bitch and I’m sure as hell not signing up to be some angel condom.”
“Hey, how come I’m supposed to be Lucifer. You’re clearly the one who’s Lucifer.”
“See what I mean.” Jess shook her head. “Sam and Dean Winchester are not going to be fighting each other and they’re sure as hell not going to end the world.”
“The Winchesters are only two of the likely candidates,” Castiel said. “They are the ones who have been entrusted to my care. I do not know of the others.”
“So what do we do?” Ben asked, looking over to Dean for guidance.
Dean looked over to their wall where a picture of John, him and Sam smiled over at him. “We finish the season. Cas says this is going to go down in the NHL so we keep an eye out for who and what and hope to God we can do something to stop it.”
***
Jess called Sara and Jo. Sarah put the word out to Kathleen who got in touch with Charlie and Rebecca. It was the cascading pyramid of hunters, each of them picking and NHL team. Each of them watching for signs that Castiel probably could point through angel vision.
But Dean didn’t trust the angels. Not when they’d already ushered in the apocalypse. Not after when Castiel told him the Winchesters brothers were fated to play angels and demons.
He wouldn’t do it. And he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sam wouldn’t either.
“Lucifer is circling a vessel,” Castiel told them in the locker room after a 3-2 loss to Toronto. “My brothers are attempting to stop it.”
“Where?” Dean hissed. “We can’t do a thing if you don’t tell us where.”
“It is too dangerous for you, Dean. We must protect the interest of those who could serve Michael’s purposes.”
Dean felt like he’d been drenched in cold water. Like he’d fallen through the ice in the pond like he had when he was seven years old. Not because of his role in this, but because of what could have been Sam’s.
***
The season moved on and the world didn’t end. The Rage were mathematically eliminated from the playoffs. No one was surprised.
“Don’t you think it’s strange,” Sam asked, staring at the ceiling. “I mean yeah, there’s been a few more demons this year then normal, but I just expected the apocalypse to be a little more... apocalyptic.”
“Florida’s set to make the playoffs this year. So is Anaheim. How is that not a sign of the apocalypse?”
“I don’t know Dean. I’m not complaining, but I was expecting things like a rain of blood and ritualistic suicide. Not the Ducks getting their act together.”
“There’s only seven games left in the season.” Dean carefully dismantled his gun, cleaning off the pieces before reassembling them as efficiently as he could. “I’m sure we can find you a river blood afterward if you really want to.”
“Jerk,” Sam muttered.
“Bitch,” Dean returned.
The next morning they got the word that Sarah Blake had died in Pittsburg in the hours just after the Penguins-Flyers game. But it wasn’t the fact that she died. It was how she died. The ritualistic positioning of the body. The fact that the Flyers were in town.
Sam threw up when he saw the pictures, Jess rubbing his back as they waited for Jo to filter in with more news. “We all went to school together,” Jess told Dean. “Sam and Sarah dated for a year or so. He thinks I don’t know about them. Never told me. Probably thinks I’d be mad or something. But I get it. Sam wasn’t the first guy I loved either.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Dean said. “I didn’t know her but Sam’s got great taste in girls.” He smirked. “Present company excluded of course.”
“Oh, you are a dick. See if I give you painkillers next time you crack a rib.” Jess sighed. “I feel like this is only going to get worse.”
“Ah, come on. No one bottoms out the league forever.”
“I’m afraid Jess is right,” Castiel said, appearing in a flutter of wings. “The Devil has chosen his earthly form.”
“That’s not good is it?” Dean crossed the room. “Where were the angels in all of this?”
“They did all they could. But it was not enough.”
“So who is it?” Sam asked emerging from the bathroom. “The Devil? Who did he pick?”
“His name is Sidney Crosby.”
Jess barked out a harsh laugh. “Sidney Crosby?”
“Good one, Cas. You developed a sense of humor after all.”
“I am quite serious. Dean, You may be the only person able to stop him.”
“I’m not going to kill Sidney Crosby!” Dean exploded.
Castiel stepped in farther, crowding Dean’s personal space. “Why not? You must kill the devil and at the moment the Devil and Sidney Crosby are one in the same.”
Dean unconsciously stood up a little straighter. “I’m not going to kill him because he’s Sidney Crosby. He’s the most visible guy in the whole freaking league. “
Sam snorted. “This from the guy who called me up in the middle of the night to tell me how much he wanted to kill Sean Avery two years ago?”
“Completely different situations!” Dean growled. “You’re really not helping, my case here, Sammy.”
“I can do it,” Jess said quietly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The trainers, they use our facilities and our meds when they’re in our building. I can get my hands on some pretty nasty stuff. If I can get it in the right place. Mislabeled bottles for painkillers...”
“You would only kill the host,” Castiel said. He looked carefully at Sam. “Not his essence. There is another able to withhold his power.”
“We’re completely fucked aren’t we?” Dean asked.
“I suspect the world will be gone within the week.”
***
The week left and the world stayed where it was. The Rage lost another two hockey games, tempers starting to flare in the locker room. Gordon and Tricks very nearly came to blows over a prank gone bad. Vic Hendriksen stepped in to stop it.
It was the first time in a long time Dean had looked forward to the end of the season. When the season was over, they could concentrate on heading off the Devil and everything would be all right.
“May I speak with you, Dean?”
Honestly, the last thing Dean wanted on the heels of a 4-1 loss was an powwow with their angel infested goalkeeper but, as Ben had pointed out a few days back, he’d kind of become heaven’s bitch.
“I’m afraid there has been a development with the apocalypse.”
“California’s gone,” Dean guessed. “Oh, God, please say California’s not gone.”
“No,” Castiel said carefully. “It appears that game has taken on an unforeseen significance.”
“Hold on. The game? You mean hockey? I mean I hate quote junior league coaches everywhere but hockey’s not life and death.”
“We have known for years that the final battle would center around the NHL. But we had not fully comprehended the... magnitude of that implication.”
“Magnitude? The devil hasn’t killed anyone since he picked Sid the kid as his prom dress. The Flyers haven’t killed anyone since you said the last seal fell. As far as things go, this is the most anticlimactic apocalypse ever.”
“You do not understand, Dean. There have been no incidents because the battle has become framed so to speak in the game so that game is the battle and the battle is the game. The Pittsburg Penguins have not been defeated since Lucifer’s ascension.”
“Hold on, you’re kidding. Whether we win or lose the apocalypse depends on the outcome of the Stanley Cup?”
“The Rage plays the Penguins twice in the last four games. We may well be able to stop this before it gets too far.”
“You’re hedging the apocalypse on the ability of the Lawrence Rage to win a hockey game? Do you have any idea how screwed up that is?”
***
Dean did the only thing he could think of. He started calling Staal brothers. Jordon who actually played on the same team as Sidney Crosby (fuck, the Devil) wasn’t picking up. He finally got through to Marc who answered on the third ring with an annoyed, “Winchester, what’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Jordon? I can’t get through to him.”
“And why exactly do you need to get in touch with my brother?”
“Would you believe me if I told you the Devil’s playing ice hockey with him?”
He heard a shifting from the other end of the phone. “Of course he is.”
“Do you know what happened to him? Marc, I’m worried. I can’t get in touch with him or Eric.”
“You can’t get in touch with Eric because he’s playing right now. I expect you can’t get in touch with Jordon because he broke his femur this afternoon and he’s probably doped up on painkillers.”
“He broke his femur? He’s done for the season?”
“How many games have you played with a broken femur?”
“I got it, Marc. If you get in touch, tell him I said feel better. And that Sidney Crosby’s the devil.”
“That’s a little harsh.”
“No, you don’t understand, Sidney Crosby’s the Devil”
“Very funny, Dean,” Marc said and hung up.
***
“The Devil’s possessing Sidney Crosby,” Ellen said slowly. “Exactly how did you get this information?”
“Cas told me all right? He and his angel buddies seem pretty damn sure of it.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we need to take a game off of the Pens if we want to stop the apocalypse.”
Dean sighed heavily. “Sounds completely crazy but it’s true.”
To his complete and utter shock, Ellen’s face split into a wide grin. “Good. It’s been too damn long since this team had a game that really meant something.”
***
Mellon Arena was filled to capacity. Then again, Mellon Arena was always filled to capacity. Dean looked up from the ice into the sea of fans wearing black, white and powder blue. He couldn’t find a single Rage jersey. The roar was almost deafening.
From the face-off circle, Sidney Crosby, Lucifer himself, hunched over as the referee circled around. Andy Gallagher stared back at him.
“Game time,” Sam said from beside him.
The puck dropped.
***
Next chapter... Ellen makes an inspiring speech! Dean takes his shot at the Devil! Shit goes DOWN!
| eleven |
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam centered with an epic supporting cast
Notes: I pretty much wrote this entire fic for this chapter. Just sayin'.
Summary: For the Winchester brothers hockey was always something apart from hunting until one season it suddenly wasn’t.
For those of you not familiar with hockey, you can read a quick primer on game basics here
CHAPTER 10: Lucifer Rising
“I’m sorry,” Andy said, an edge of panic in his voice. “But did I just hear you say that the apocalypse has started?”
Sam stood, rounding on Castiel. “Where were the angels in all this? I thought they were supposed to be fighting. Because in between hockey and freaking demons, we sure as hell have been fighting!”
“The legions of hell proved too strong,” Castiel said tersely. “It seems that hell wants all out war.”
Ben sank down against the couch. “I’m guessing all out war between Heaven and Hell isn’t something humanity’s going to survive.”
“It is entirely likely that all life on Earth will be annihilated.”
“So we stop it,” Jess said. “There’s got to be a way, right? Even if all of these seals have fallen, there’s still got to be a way.”
“The best way would be to head Lucifer off. To prevent him from choosing his vessel. Once he has chosen, I fear that only Michael’s sword has a chance to stop the inevitable.”
“So we find Michael’s sword,” Dean said. “Easy. Find a sword and chop up the Devil. I’ve always wanted to use a sword. It’s more or less like a really big knife, right?”
“Michael’s sword is really more of a metaphor for Michael’s vessel.”
“So Michael’s vessel and Lucifer’s vessel, are they just any random person or can they be any guy off the street.”
“There are... finite possibilities for their vessels. It takes a very special person to play host to an angel.”
Dean shrugged. “So we find these guys and we tell them to just say no. Then done. Apocalypse over.”
“It’s not that simple,” Castiel protested. “We have identified three different possible vessels for each Michael and Lucifer. All of them reside in the National Hockey League.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Andy said. “Please tell me he’s kidding.”
“So pick your favorite,” Dean said. “We’ll stake them out whenever we can. Make sure they don’t have a chance to get possessed. Problem solved. Come on, Cas. Who do you like.”
Castiel fell quiet for a long moment. There was a curious slump to his shoulders and Dean could almost imagine his wings expressing his regret. He looked pointedly at Sam and then Dean.
Jess made the connection before either of the Winchester brothers. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. These two? Sam and Dean are going to be key players in an apocalypse? If you told me Sean Avery was going to be the Devil and Pavel Datsyuk the angel, I might believe you. Might.”
“It’s not going to happen, Cas,” Dean said. “There’s no way Sam’s going to be the Devil’s bitch and I’m sure as hell not signing up to be some angel condom.”
“Hey, how come I’m supposed to be Lucifer. You’re clearly the one who’s Lucifer.”
“See what I mean.” Jess shook her head. “Sam and Dean Winchester are not going to be fighting each other and they’re sure as hell not going to end the world.”
“The Winchesters are only two of the likely candidates,” Castiel said. “They are the ones who have been entrusted to my care. I do not know of the others.”
“So what do we do?” Ben asked, looking over to Dean for guidance.
Dean looked over to their wall where a picture of John, him and Sam smiled over at him. “We finish the season. Cas says this is going to go down in the NHL so we keep an eye out for who and what and hope to God we can do something to stop it.”
Jess called Sara and Jo. Sarah put the word out to Kathleen who got in touch with Charlie and Rebecca. It was the cascading pyramid of hunters, each of them picking and NHL team. Each of them watching for signs that Castiel probably could point through angel vision.
But Dean didn’t trust the angels. Not when they’d already ushered in the apocalypse. Not after when Castiel told him the Winchesters brothers were fated to play angels and demons.
He wouldn’t do it. And he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sam wouldn’t either.
“Lucifer is circling a vessel,” Castiel told them in the locker room after a 3-2 loss to Toronto. “My brothers are attempting to stop it.”
“Where?” Dean hissed. “We can’t do a thing if you don’t tell us where.”
“It is too dangerous for you, Dean. We must protect the interest of those who could serve Michael’s purposes.”
Dean felt like he’d been drenched in cold water. Like he’d fallen through the ice in the pond like he had when he was seven years old. Not because of his role in this, but because of what could have been Sam’s.
The season moved on and the world didn’t end. The Rage were mathematically eliminated from the playoffs. No one was surprised.
“Don’t you think it’s strange,” Sam asked, staring at the ceiling. “I mean yeah, there’s been a few more demons this year then normal, but I just expected the apocalypse to be a little more... apocalyptic.”
“Florida’s set to make the playoffs this year. So is Anaheim. How is that not a sign of the apocalypse?”
“I don’t know Dean. I’m not complaining, but I was expecting things like a rain of blood and ritualistic suicide. Not the Ducks getting their act together.”
“There’s only seven games left in the season.” Dean carefully dismantled his gun, cleaning off the pieces before reassembling them as efficiently as he could. “I’m sure we can find you a river blood afterward if you really want to.”
“Jerk,” Sam muttered.
“Bitch,” Dean returned.
The next morning they got the word that Sarah Blake had died in Pittsburg in the hours just after the Penguins-Flyers game. But it wasn’t the fact that she died. It was how she died. The ritualistic positioning of the body. The fact that the Flyers were in town.
Sam threw up when he saw the pictures, Jess rubbing his back as they waited for Jo to filter in with more news. “We all went to school together,” Jess told Dean. “Sam and Sarah dated for a year or so. He thinks I don’t know about them. Never told me. Probably thinks I’d be mad or something. But I get it. Sam wasn’t the first guy I loved either.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Dean said. “I didn’t know her but Sam’s got great taste in girls.” He smirked. “Present company excluded of course.”
“Oh, you are a dick. See if I give you painkillers next time you crack a rib.” Jess sighed. “I feel like this is only going to get worse.”
“Ah, come on. No one bottoms out the league forever.”
“I’m afraid Jess is right,” Castiel said, appearing in a flutter of wings. “The Devil has chosen his earthly form.”
“That’s not good is it?” Dean crossed the room. “Where were the angels in all of this?”
“They did all they could. But it was not enough.”
“So who is it?” Sam asked emerging from the bathroom. “The Devil? Who did he pick?”
“His name is Sidney Crosby.”
Jess barked out a harsh laugh. “Sidney Crosby?”
“Good one, Cas. You developed a sense of humor after all.”
“I am quite serious. Dean, You may be the only person able to stop him.”
“I’m not going to kill Sidney Crosby!” Dean exploded.
Castiel stepped in farther, crowding Dean’s personal space. “Why not? You must kill the devil and at the moment the Devil and Sidney Crosby are one in the same.”
Dean unconsciously stood up a little straighter. “I’m not going to kill him because he’s Sidney Crosby. He’s the most visible guy in the whole freaking league. “
Sam snorted. “This from the guy who called me up in the middle of the night to tell me how much he wanted to kill Sean Avery two years ago?”
“Completely different situations!” Dean growled. “You’re really not helping, my case here, Sammy.”
“I can do it,” Jess said quietly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The trainers, they use our facilities and our meds when they’re in our building. I can get my hands on some pretty nasty stuff. If I can get it in the right place. Mislabeled bottles for painkillers...”
“You would only kill the host,” Castiel said. He looked carefully at Sam. “Not his essence. There is another able to withhold his power.”
“We’re completely fucked aren’t we?” Dean asked.
“I suspect the world will be gone within the week.”
The week left and the world stayed where it was. The Rage lost another two hockey games, tempers starting to flare in the locker room. Gordon and Tricks very nearly came to blows over a prank gone bad. Vic Hendriksen stepped in to stop it.
It was the first time in a long time Dean had looked forward to the end of the season. When the season was over, they could concentrate on heading off the Devil and everything would be all right.
“May I speak with you, Dean?”
Honestly, the last thing Dean wanted on the heels of a 4-1 loss was an powwow with their angel infested goalkeeper but, as Ben had pointed out a few days back, he’d kind of become heaven’s bitch.
“I’m afraid there has been a development with the apocalypse.”
“California’s gone,” Dean guessed. “Oh, God, please say California’s not gone.”
“No,” Castiel said carefully. “It appears that game has taken on an unforeseen significance.”
“Hold on. The game? You mean hockey? I mean I hate quote junior league coaches everywhere but hockey’s not life and death.”
“We have known for years that the final battle would center around the NHL. But we had not fully comprehended the... magnitude of that implication.”
“Magnitude? The devil hasn’t killed anyone since he picked Sid the kid as his prom dress. The Flyers haven’t killed anyone since you said the last seal fell. As far as things go, this is the most anticlimactic apocalypse ever.”
“You do not understand, Dean. There have been no incidents because the battle has become framed so to speak in the game so that game is the battle and the battle is the game. The Pittsburg Penguins have not been defeated since Lucifer’s ascension.”
“Hold on, you’re kidding. Whether we win or lose the apocalypse depends on the outcome of the Stanley Cup?”
“The Rage plays the Penguins twice in the last four games. We may well be able to stop this before it gets too far.”
“You’re hedging the apocalypse on the ability of the Lawrence Rage to win a hockey game? Do you have any idea how screwed up that is?”
Dean did the only thing he could think of. He started calling Staal brothers. Jordon who actually played on the same team as Sidney Crosby (fuck, the Devil) wasn’t picking up. He finally got through to Marc who answered on the third ring with an annoyed, “Winchester, what’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Jordon? I can’t get through to him.”
“And why exactly do you need to get in touch with my brother?”
“Would you believe me if I told you the Devil’s playing ice hockey with him?”
He heard a shifting from the other end of the phone. “Of course he is.”
“Do you know what happened to him? Marc, I’m worried. I can’t get in touch with him or Eric.”
“You can’t get in touch with Eric because he’s playing right now. I expect you can’t get in touch with Jordon because he broke his femur this afternoon and he’s probably doped up on painkillers.”
“He broke his femur? He’s done for the season?”
“How many games have you played with a broken femur?”
“I got it, Marc. If you get in touch, tell him I said feel better. And that Sidney Crosby’s the devil.”
“That’s a little harsh.”
“No, you don’t understand, Sidney Crosby’s the Devil”
“Very funny, Dean,” Marc said and hung up.
“The Devil’s possessing Sidney Crosby,” Ellen said slowly. “Exactly how did you get this information?”
“Cas told me all right? He and his angel buddies seem pretty damn sure of it.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we need to take a game off of the Pens if we want to stop the apocalypse.”
Dean sighed heavily. “Sounds completely crazy but it’s true.”
To his complete and utter shock, Ellen’s face split into a wide grin. “Good. It’s been too damn long since this team had a game that really meant something.”
Mellon Arena was filled to capacity. Then again, Mellon Arena was always filled to capacity. Dean looked up from the ice into the sea of fans wearing black, white and powder blue. He couldn’t find a single Rage jersey. The roar was almost deafening.
From the face-off circle, Sidney Crosby, Lucifer himself, hunched over as the referee circled around. Andy Gallagher stared back at him.
“Game time,” Sam said from beside him.
The puck dropped.
Next chapter... Ellen makes an inspiring speech! Dean takes his shot at the Devil! Shit goes DOWN!
| eleven |
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
28/1/10 04:05 (UTC)Dude. I so want to read the rest of this RIGHT NOW.
(no subject)
28/1/10 17:41 (UTC)(no subject)
29/1/10 07:20 (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/10 02:36 (UTC)(no subject)
28/1/10 10:40 (UTC)You're everything I wish I could be!
And now that my horrible Bette Midler impression is out of the way, it must be said that I had the biggest smile in the world while reading this! I'm so happy you stuck with your guns and made Crosby Lucifer's vessel; it's pretty much the most epic, most hilarious thing I think I've read. I can't wait for all of the inevitable shenanigans that will ensue!
“Hold on, you’re kidding. Whether we win or lose the apocalypse depends on the outcome of the Stanley Cup?”
*nods in agreement* The Cup is THAT important.
Also, I love poor, put-upon Marc; of course he's annoyed-the Rangers haven't won a game in AGES.
PS: Apparently it's Sidney with an I
(no subject)
28/1/10 17:45 (UTC)I should really know how to spell Crysby's name considering I have two rabid pens fans in my familyHaving Crosby be Lucifer is kind of why I started writing this. IT'S SO ABSURD AND MAGNIFICENT AT THE SAME TIME. I feel like I should apologize because he's probably a very nice man BUT I'M TOO BUSY LOLING AT THE THOUGHT. =)
...I know what I'm doing for the epic climactic scene and I LOVE it. But I'll feel a little bad if nonhockey folks make it this far BECAUSE IT IS SO RIDICULOUS AND SO FULL OF IN JOKEY HOCKEY STUFF.
I promise future shenanigans. =)
(no subject)
13/10/11 06:32 (UTC)I spent all of the time after I read that line with a little background mantra of "sidney crosby is the devil oh my god this is the greatest thing in the history of ever sidney crosby is the devil" continuously in my head.
THE DEVIL. SIDNEY CROSBY. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHAHAHA