Demon Tofu IV: The Rise of Lucifer’s Zombie Horde (2/2)

[rusty_armour]

Title: Demon Tofu IV: The Rise of Lucifer’s Zombie Horde (2/2)
Author: Rusty Armour
Summary: Dean hatches a cunning and dangerous plan to defeat Lucifer.
Word Count: 2,064
Rating: PG-13
Warning: This story contains tofu and the undead!
Spoilers: The Rapture (4.20), Sympathy for the Devil (5.1), Good God, Y’all (5.2)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters and I don't want to own them. Those boys are all dark, twisted and tormented inside, so I'm only willing to make very brief visits to their universe in the interest of birthday fic.
Author's Note: This was written for jackycomelately's birthday and is a sequel to The Time the Winchester Boys Met God or the Terrible Truth About Demon Tofu. Best wishes and many happy returns, jackycomelately! I hope you enjoy this latest story in the Demon Tofu series! :-)

---

They set off early the next morning. Castiel still wasn’t convinced that Dean’s plan would work, but he just didn’t have the energy to argue with him anymore. He didn’t feel as if he had the energy to do much of anything. In fact, the longer he was cut off from heaven, the more he found himself losing the will to live. He wondered if this was what was known as depression. He was about to ask Dean if they could stop somewhere for Prozac, when something wondrous caught his eye.

“Ooooh!” Castiel cried. “Stop the car! Stop the car, Dean!”

Dean slammed on the brakes. “What? What is it?”

Castiel opened the passenger door and sprang out of the Impala.

“Cas!” Dean shouted. Cursing under his breath, Dean parked the Impala in the vacated lot Castiel was running across and then got out to join him. Castiel was standing in front of an abandoned diner with a rapt expression on his face.





“Would you mind explaining what that was all about?” Dean said. “I could have really hurt the Impala, hitting the brakes like that. What’s going on? Have you found God?”

Castiel turned to Dean and he was positively glowing. “Oh, Dean, isn’t it beautiful? I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Dean first gaped at Castiel and then the diner. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“This place, Dean,” Castiel said. “It’s absolutely stunning.”





“You mean the diner?” Dean asked. “Uh, I realize you don’t get out much, but I’ve gotta tell you that this place is kind of a dump.”

Apparently, Castiel didn’t hear Dean because he kept gazing up at the diner dreamily. “Ever since I was a little angel, I’ve longed to have my own diner.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You have?”

Castiel nodded. “Oh, yes. I’ve always wanted to have a place where families can gather and break bread together.”





“Uh, are you sure this isn’t Jimmy you’re channelling?” Dean asked.

Castiel snorted. “Don’t be silly, Dean. God has left me a sign.”

Dean’s brow creased. “A sign?”

Castiel pointed up above them, barely able to contain his excitement, and Dean saw exactly what he was talking about.





“It’s as if I was meant to own this diner,” Castiel said. “My name has been written on the sign.”

Dean sighed. “No, the name ‘CAS’ has been written on the sign.”

Castiel smiled. “You call me ‘CAS,’ so it’s still my name, isn’t it?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Or ‘CAS’ could be someone’s initials. For all you know, it’s the initials of some chick in Toronto who spends too much time on the Internet and gets off on writing fanfiction.”

Castiel glanced at Dean in surprise. “That’s a pretty specific example.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. “I don’t know where that came from, but…Oh! She was born on Beltane. If I survive the apocalypse, I’m going to totally kick her ass.”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, it isn’t the woman’s fault that she was born on Beltane.”

Dean lifted his chin stubbornly. “She isn’t Christian, Cas.”

“Oh, then you should totally kick her ass,” Castiel said.

The ground under their feet rumbled, the sky darkened ominously, and something truly menacing awoke.

But Dean and Castiel were still too absorbed by the sign to notice.

“It’s even grammatically correct, Dean,” Castiel said. “How often does that happen with a sign?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess it depends on which state you’re in. I assume you’ve noticed that your perfect sign is also crooked and falling apart.”





Castiel sniffed indignantly. “Minor detail, Dean. Minor detail.” With a great degree of will-power on his part, Castiel managed to tear his eyes away from the sign and walk inside the diner. Once he was inside, he froze and gazed at his surroundings in amazement. “Oh, Dean, look at the stainless steel tables and the red padded upholstery in the booths! And-and there’s a jukebox!”





Dean was studying the interior of the diner suspiciously. “It’s very clean for a place that’s been abandoned. I wouldn’t have thought the owners would bother tidying if they fled or were about to be slaughtered by demons…” He tilted his head, as if expecting to hear the sounds of people being tortured, maimed and killed. “I’m just going to take a look around.”

Castiel nodded absently. “Whatever.”

Dean did a sweep of the entire diner, going so far as to check the kitchen cupboards, but he didn’t find any demons or bodies. He also didn’t find any tofu, which didn’t bode well for his plan.

“Uh, Cas,” Dean said as he walked towards the angel, “I’m afraid there’s a tiny problem with your…” He trailed off when he saw the expression on Castiel’s face as he polished the counter. He’d seen the same thing reflected back at himself in the side-view mirrors whenever he washed the Impala. There was no way he’d be able to pry Castiel away from his baby. “Uh, I’m afraid the diner is out of tofu, so I’m going to run out and get some.”





Castiel stopped polishing and looked up. “Oh. Should I come with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dean said. “You just keep doing what you’re doing.”

When Dean returned a couple of hours later with the spoils from a vegetarian restaurant and Chinese buffet, he found Castiel cleaning one of the grills. Dean whistled, impressed. “Wow. You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

Castiel dropped the greasy cloth in his hand and eyed the bags in Dean’s hands warily. “Is that the demon food?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s the tofu.” He glanced down at the grill Castiel had been working on. “I don’t suppose you can cook, can you?”

“Yes, I can cook, or, rather, Jimmy can,” Castiel said. “However, neither Jimmy nor I know anything about cooking tofu.”

“Well, I don’t either, but I figure if non-hunters can do it then how hard can it be?” Dean set his bags down on a table and rolled up his sleeves. He couldn’t help noticing that Castiel kept his distance as he poured some barbecue sauce in a bowl and started marinating the tofu.

When Dean dropped the first cube on the grill, the effect was instantaneous, for not only did the tofu begin to brown, but the undead opened their eyes and rose.





Dean beamed as he grabbed a spatula and began heaping tofu on a plate. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice the large group of zombies that was making its way towards the diner. “Hey, Cas, I really think this plan could really work. It’s a small town, so once word gets out about how fabulous my tofu is–”

“Dean, the town is deserted,” Castiel said. “I don’t see how word can get out. It will certainly be a while before praise for your tofu is spread by word of mouth considering the distinct lack of mouths.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Oh, yeah? Well, what about these folks? It didn’t take them long to hear about my tofu.”





Castiel whirled around and started violently when he spotted their first customers through one of the diner windows. “You idiot! They’re zombies!”

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Oh, shit!” He looked frantically around the diner for some kind of weapons before remembering that his arsenal was in the trunk of the Impala.

“Tofu,” the zombies chanted. “Tofu.”

“Dean, their numbers are growing,” Castiel said. “Look at them.”

Dean looked and then immediately wished he hadn’t.





“Tofu,” the zombies chanted again. “Tofu.”

Dean grabbed a steak knife and dove under one of the tables.

“What are you doing?” Castiel demanded. “Those zombies are trying to break into my diner!”





“Maybe if we hide, they’ll think we’ve left and go away,” Dean said.

“It’s a bit late for that!” Castiel hissed. “They’ve already seen us through the windows!”

Dean bit his lip anxiously. “Well, maybe if we hide, they’ll get bored and go away.”

“Tofu! Tofu!”

The zombies were now pounding insistently on the windows and looking far from bored.

Dean moaned piteously. “This is all because of that bitch in Toronto! I just know it!”





“Dean, we’ve got to do something!” Castiel said.

Dean nodded. “Okay, sure. As you’re the angel, you can start praying. I’ll just be curled up in a foetal position under here.”





“TOFU! TOFU! TOFU!”

Dean whimpered as he heard the sound of glass breaking. “Sam! Sam!”





“TOFU! TOFU! TOFU! TOFU!”





“SAM! SAM! SAMMY!”

“Okay, everybody, just calm down!” a voice shouted.





Dean’s head shot up, his eyes fastening on his brother. Sam flashed a quick smile at Dean before running to a microphone that was set up on the other side of the diner – possibly for karaoke. But surely Sam wasn’t planning to serenade the zombies, was he?





Sam tapped the microphone a couple of times. “Testing, testing.” He cleared his throat. “Howdy, folks. There’s something important I need to tell you. The tofu in this diner has been contaminated. Instead of containing soy milk, it contains cow’s milk.”





“Cow’s milk? That’s disgusting! The owners of this establishment should be flayed alive!”





“Sir, I understand why you’re upset,” Sam said. “I think it’s disgusting too, but I have it on good authority that there’s plenty of tofu to be had in the Korean restaurant in the next town over.”

The zombies stopped chanting and breaking glass. For several long seconds, they simply stared at each other. Then, as one, the horde turned away from the diner and began to head towards the next town over. “Korean restaurant. Korean restaurant.”

Once Dean was sure the zombies were gone, he crawled out from under the table. “How did you know about the zombies, Sam? For that matter, how did you find us in the first place?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was driving past the diner when I spotted the Impala parked outside. I was about halfway across the parking lot when the zombies arrived. I managed to sneak in through the back before they totally surrounded the place.”

“Well, we’re grateful that you arrived when you did, Sam,” Castiel said. “Those zombies almost destroyed the place.” Castiel scanned the diner, his bottom lip trembling as he took in all the damage.





“Oh, hey, I almost forgot.” Sam reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I found this under the windshield wiper of the Impala. It’s addressed to you, Cas.”

Castiel took the note from Sam and opened it. His eyes widened as he read it, and then re-read it a second and third time. Losing patience, Dean snatched the note out of Castiel’s hand and read it for himself:


Dear Castiel,

Please complete the task I have set for you.

Love,

God

P.S. You will not require Prozac. Your faith will be enough to guide you.


Castiel retrieved his note from Dean and tucked it carefully away in his trench coat. “We’d better get going, Dean. I’ll meet you at the car when you’re ready.”

Dean waited until Castiel was well out of earshot before slapping Sam on the back. “That was awesome, Sam! Great job!”

Sam stared at Dean in confusion. “I didn’t write the note. I assumed you did.”

“What do you mean you didn’t write the note?” Dean demanded. “Of course you wrote the note!”

Sam shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Dean. I swear.”

Dean swallowed nervously. “But if it wasn’t you then who…?”

Both brothers raised their eyes.

“Looks like Cas missed a spot when he was cleaning,” Dean said when he caught sight of a stain on the ceiling. “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

Sam grinned. “Dude, you couldn’t pay me to tell him.”

Dean laughed quietly before growing serious. “Sam…”





“It’s only been three days,” Sam said. “I need more time.”

Dean frowned. “Well, how much more time? A week? A month?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. I guess I’ll be ready when I’m ready.”





Dean groaned. “Could you be any more mysterious?”

Sam’s lips twitched. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Look, I cooked up a whole batch of tofu before you got here. Would you like to split it with me before you hit the road again?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’d like that.”


Part One