There aren't that many stories about Max out there, which I find disappointing. I've had this idea for a while now, and it won't leave me alone till I write it. So here it is.

Give Credit where credit is Due: there was a line in Tsukino Akume's "When Light Fades" that stayed with me, so I used it here.

For those who are wondering, this takes place during the "All about You-niverse" episode of WOWP, and incorporates elements of my other story, "The Enchanted Mirror", and the third episode of the current season of Supernatural. Please Review.

Synopsis: Max Russo has always been overshadowed by his older brother and sister. That all changes when he is recruited by the archangel Castiel to help recover a cache of weapons that were stolen from Heaven. He joins the Winchesters on the hunt, all the while marching towards a grander destiny...

Max Russo was thrown backwards by the explosion. He twisted in mid-air, angling himself so as to land on his feet, spraining his ankle in the process.

That's what I get for igniting the kerosene, he thought darkly. Still, beheading and burning are the best ways to end vampyres.

Max vaulted forward as another leech tackled him from behind. Something snapped beneath his foot. He looked down to see his splintered wand. But he didn't panic; in fact, he barely gave the wand a passing glance. He carried it now only out of habit.

Max had learned to channel his magic without it a long time ago.

He was surrounded. Trapped by the ring of flames, there was nowhere for the vamps to go. One of them charged forward. Max dodged him easily, and watched as the leech's momentum sent him straight into the flames.

He cried out in pain as he felt fangs pierce his skin. He backhanded the offending vamp so hard it sent him sprawling into the fire.

Max was getting tired, and grew more and more liable to screw up. Where the hell was his back-up?

So they were trying to prevent total anarchy and chaos as Heaven warred with itself and the Fallen of Hell ran rampant. Big whoop. So was he; some consideration would be appreciated.

Max stepped through the flames and out onto the other side untouched. A few months ago, he would have vocalized his intention as he invoked his magic, something along the lines of " fire sprung from magic's wealth, let me pass with all my health." But he was different now, he knew better: fanfare had no place in war. True spells were recited in Latin anyway.

He watched as the ring of fire became smaller, engulfing the vampyres within until they smoldered into ash. It was then that he noticed a burning sensation in his left hand; there was a small crescent mark where the vamp had bitten him.

Max sighed. He would have to let Sam work his mojo on it.

Things would have gone a lot smoother if I'd had help, he thought. Angel or not, I'm going to kill Castiel the next time I see him.