"Would you write a one shot about where the Winchesters have to face with Loki? And maybe a fight among them?"
Words: 1265
Warnings: bamf norse god none
The cabin was small. Unremarkable. Its earthy brown color allowed it to blend well with the forest in which it was situated. It was miles away from any neighbors, though a dirt road ran past five hundred feet from its front door. It was so unnoticeable that most people would’ve driven by without even seeing it.
Most people. Not the two men in the ’67 Chevy Impala. They pulled over to the side of the road, got out, and immediately went to their trunk. If there had been traffic, the ordinary people passing by would’ve been shocked by what was in the back of the car: knives, guns, stakes, trinkets, grenades. Almost every type of weapon imaginable.
The two men started pulling out choice weapons, sifting through a bit to find what they needed. Finally, they shut the trunk and made their way towards the cabin. One had a set of knives, and the taller other carried a stake, stained red on the point.
They communicated tacitly as the snuck through the trees, seeming to know what the other was thinking just by a slight nod of the head or a hand gesture. They reached the front door of the cabin and hesitated. What they were about to face was going to put up a fight. A big fight. Though at this point, they had the element of surprise on their side and they wanted to keep it that way.
The taller man nodded at the other, who slowly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. In one quick motion, the two of them were inside the house, the taller wielding the stake defensively, the shorter holding the handgun he kept in his belt out in front of him.
But the cabin was empty. The room didn’t even look like they expected it would. Their sources told them there would be a Norse god here, a dangerous Norse god. But this was just an ordinary room. In the darkness, they could make out a couch in front of a cold fireplace, a bed in the corner, a small cooking area. It was just so… normal.
They wandered a little further into the house, looking around warily, before the door slammed behind them.
They both spun around, the shorter already with his finger over the trigger of his gun, ready to shoot.
There he was. The Norse god. Loki. The actual Loki. “Hello, Sam, Dean,” he said with a grin, sauntering confidently forward. He wasn’t dressed in modern clothes the way most gods were. Instead, he had on a long black robe, black pants, black shirt, black boots, with more than a few hints of gold and green. His hair was shoulder-length and jet-black. He held a long staff in one hand, bladed and sharp like claws on one end with a blue orb in the center.
“How do you know our names?” the taller one, Sam, asked.
“You’ve been tracking me for quite a while now, haven’t you? I haven’t been causing that much trouble, have I, to deserve so much attention the most notorious hunters on the planet?”
“I think thirty deaths counts as enough trouble,” Dean growled. There had been that many deaths from just one town, twenty miles over. Two of them were children.
“Cannon fodder,” Loki said dismissively.
“You son of a bitch,” Dean snarled, pulling the trigger on his gun.
The bullet hit Loki square in the chest, right over the heart. A perfect shot. But he just smiled and watched the now-flattened bullet fall to the floor. It didn’t even leave a trace on his clothes.
“But…” Sam said, confused. “You’re supposed to be powerless. Odin took your powers away—”
Loki advanced on them slowly. “Times have changed. I found new connections. New allies. This?” he said, gesturing to the cabin around them. “This is just a front. Do you think I actually spend time in this sorry excuse of a home?”
The god started getting too close. Seven feet away. Six feet away. Five feet away. Dean rapidly fired until he run out of bullets, but Loki didn’t even notice. It was as if it was doing nothing to him.
Gun empty, Dean tossed it to the side. “Time for Plan B,” he muttered, whipping out a knife and nodding at Sam, who was still holding the stake.
“Cute,” Loki said with an amused smile. “Trying to kill me with a piece of tree. As if that would work.” He lifted his staff from the ground and swung it at them head level.
“Holy—” Dean started, before he and Sam were forced to duck. But the god was fast. Really fast. The scepter swept under their feet before they could even recover and they were on the ground, the god towering above them.
They futilely tried to scramble to their feet, holding up their weapons in front of them in defense. A knife had never seemed so small before, a four-inch piece of wood so breakable.
Suddenly, a golden light started pouring out of Loki’s eyes and mouth, lighting up the room in an eerie light. There was a dark figure behind him, with its hand placed on the back of the god’s head. Loki roared in pain as he spun around, the gold light quickly fading, and brought around the blunt bottom end of his weapon to hit his attacker in the head.
It found its mark with a heavy thud, and the man who had been behind Loki grunted and stumbled, clutching his head. The Winchesters would recognize him anywhere. The angel in the trench coat. Castiel. But besides a little disorientation, he seemed hardly effected. He straightened and glared menacingly at his opponent, pulling a shining angel blade out of an inside pocket of his trench coat.
“You dare try to kill me, Loki of Asgard—” Loki started, whipping out his staff so fast that Sam and Dean couldn’t even follow it, but he hit air. A fluttering of wings and the angel had disappeared. In almost the same instant, he reappeared crouching next to Sam and Dean. He put his hands on their shoulders and in an instant they were standing right outside of the Impala.
“Dean, quickly,” Cas murmured. “Get in the car, we have to go.”
“But we’re not done,” Dean said, starting to surge back towards the house.
“Dean,” Cas said in his gravelly voice, grabbing Dean’s arm to restrain him. “I’ll explain later, but we have to go.”
“Dean, this guy’s more powerful than we thought, we’re going to have to bail,” Sam said urgently.
At his brother’s plea, Dean sighed, pulled open the door, and slid behind the wheel of the Impala. Castiel slipped into the back and Sam climbed in after him.
In seconds, the car was started up and speeding down the dirt road, the bumps of which were jostling the car’s passengers uncomfortably.
“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Cas.
“Loki of Asgard is regrettably more powerful than he should be,” Cas said. “I came to tell you when I found out, but you were already at his location.”
“We still have to kill this son of a bitch,” Dean pointed out angrily. “I don’t know why we’re running away.”
“It’s a battle for another day, Dean. He has powerful allies and he will not be easy to defeat.” Castiel clenched his jaw and looked at the two Winchesters for a long moment before he disappeared.
“‘A battle for another day,’” Dean muttered. “Great.”
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