MNIC - Ch. 20: Where the Grass Is Green (and the Girls Are Pretty)
Title: My Name Is Castiel
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 3700 (Running Total: 70900)
Summary: After escaping from Death's clutches yet again, Cas jumps right into the fight against the Leviathans. Post-7x10. "I am an angel of the Lord. Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you everything."
Chapter 20 - Where the Grass Is Green (and the Girls Are Pretty)
Dean’s raking leaves. I haven’t seen him so relaxed in quite some time-it’s been two weeks since I last saw him, two weeks since I raised Sam.
I need help. There is no way that I could win against Raphael, not in a straight fight. He is still an archangel, and I… I am still nothing. He could crush me just as easily as he did last time, and then the Apocalypse would begin yet again. I cannot die, because the angels who follow me still do not understand the concept of free will. They would take my death as a sign that God disapproves of my beliefs, and then they would fall back behind Raphael.
I cannot allow the world to end, not after all that Sam and Dean sacrificed.
But I cannot ask Dean for even more. He’s given far more than enough, lost far more than is fair. I can’t bear the thought of forcing him to give up the chance at a normal life he’s worked so hard to find. I can’t force him to break his promise to Sam.
“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday,” a familiar voice says, and I turn around to see Crowley standing just a few yards away from me. “Just not your day, is it?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I want to help you help me, help ourselves.”
“Speak plain.”
“I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”
“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an angel, you ass. I don’t have a soul to sell.”
“But that’s it, isn’t it? It’s all of it. It’s the souls. It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn’t it?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Raphael’s head on a pike. I’m talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. Come on. Just a chat,” he says, starting to turn away.
“I have no interest in talking with you.”
“Why not? I’m very interesting. Come on. Hear me out. Five minutes. No obligations. I promise.”
I glance back over my shoulder at Dean and wonder what he would say about listening to Crowley for a few minutes.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Crowley adds, half-turning in preparation to leave.
I wish I could speak with Dean, ask what he thinks of this. After all, he was the one who taught me about making choices. It makes sense to ask him what he thinks of my choice. But he is retired, and he is to stay that way. If I talk to him about this, there is no way that he will stay uninvolved. It is against his nature to let other people suffer when there is something he can do about it.
As Dean bags the leaves that he’d been raking, I turn toward Crowley and follow him away. I am still an angel, and he is still a demon. I can still smite him. And perhaps, against all odds, Crowley will actually have a solution to my problem…
****************************************
I wait impatiently for the final senator to leave before taking flight.
Crowley didn’t show. At the forty minute mark, I thought that perhaps he had been delayed. But he still has not arrived, and I am worried. He claimed that he would make sure I’d be able to find him, but as I reach out for him, I find nothing.
Could something be wrong with me?
I land on the south bank of one stretch of the Amazon River and close my eyes to concentrate. I expand my awareness as far as it can go and try to hone in on the demon, but I find nothing. No, this can’t be right. If Crowley intended for me to be able to find him, then something has definitely gone wrong in his plans.
My immediate concern is for the welfare of Sam and Dean-their lives mean more to me than almost anything else. So I center my focus and locate Dean in a car, en route to Bobby’s new home in Kansas.
“Hello, Dean,” I say.
The car swerves wildly, and both brothers curse loudly.
“Jesus!” Dean barks. “Don’t do that, okay?”
“You’d think that you’d be used to it by now,” Sam says.
“You were surprised, too,” Dean points out.
“Yeah, but I’m not the one freaking out.”
“You’re not the one with the freaky angel-bond thing going on.”
“If you’d both shut up, I’d like to speak now,” I say before Sam can retort.
“Right-sorry, Cas. What’s up?” Sam asks.
“Have either of you seen Crowley?”
“Um, no. I assumed he was with you,” Dean says.
“He isn’t.”
“Yeah, we got that. So, what? Did something go wrong? Give us something to work with, Cas.”
I frown. As grateful as I am that Sam and Dean are well, there must be something wrong. Crowley could be dead-that would be unfortunate.
“Cas?” Sam says, twisting in his seat so that he can see me.
I look up at him and address Balthazar instead. “Stay with them,” I say. “Something isn’t right, and I feel that it isn’t the Leviathans. Don’t leave them alone under any circumstances.”
“Cas, what the hell-” Dean begins to say, but I’ve already looked into Sam’s mind and found Balthazar’s acknowledgement of my request.
Satisfied that the boys won’t be left vulnerable, I take off again. There’s a slim chance that I just wasn’t looking hard enough. I put all of my focus on picking up traces of Crowley anywhere on Earth-it should be difficult for me to miss the king of Hell, especially if he intends to be found by me-before descending into Hell, but I do not sense his presence there, either.
Crowley, where are you?
****************************************
I walk through a now-barren realm of Heaven, looking around. The only remains are numerous scorched outlines of wings, the wings of my brothers and sisters. Some of them were put here by my own hands.
I look down at said hands and clench them into fists, allowing power to flow to the surface. I am using the power of fifty thousand souls, yet Raphael’s might is still greater than mine. Archangels truly are Heaven’s most powerful weapons.
I wish that I could share some of my power to make those brothers who have joined me stronger than those who elected to stay with Raphael, but they would question the origin of these souls. And while I am willing to use Crowley as a means to an end, my friends, my brothers, are unlikely to see it that way. So all I can do is covertly cocoon each of my warriors with extra defenses and let them take it as a sign from God that they are protected.
Suddenly, there’s movement near the ground, and I tense up, expecting an ambush.
But no-the figure who sits up is the human soul to whom this realm belongs. She looks around with scared eyes, and I study her.
Harriet Saltzman, daughter of a hunting father who died only months after she was born and an overprotective mother who tried everything in her power to keep Harriet under locks. This girl died young, attempting revenge on the vampire who’d killed her father.
I slowly move to her side and kneel down, and when she turns her face toward me, there are tears in her eyes.
“How can this be paradise?” she asks me.
I touch her cheek and wipe away a tear that has slipped from her eye. “I apologize, Harriet. You were not meant to see all of this.” I clear away all the remnants of our latest battle, but the sadness in Harriet’s eyes remains. “Would you like me to take away the memory?” I ask gently.
She shakes her head. “No, because then I would forget your kindness, as well. The other angels I’ve met… they were all so cold.”
“As you wish,” I say.
Her eyes follow me as I regain my feet, and she repeats her query. “How can this be paradise?”
I wave my hand, and all that had once been her paradise returns into being. “It just is,” I tell her. “This is your paradise. Rest now, Harriet.”
But as I turn to leave, she grabs my hand, and I turn back slightly to look at her.
“But what about your paradise?” she asks.
I pull her to her feet and look her in the eyes as I say, “Angels have no paradise. Now, I must go.”
Before she can hold me back with another question, I fly away. Before all of this, I would have offered up a prayer for her soul, but if God is still alive, He certainly isn’t listening anymore. There is no point.
I do not think I have ever resented Him more than I do now, for the home He created for us is not even truly our home. It serves as paradise for the favored humans, reward for their lives well lived. But what of us? What of the angels who serve Him ceaselessly?
I shake away these useless thoughts and bring my focus back to the present-I must find Rachel and devise a strategy before Raphael strikes again. We have some time, because the weapons of Heaven have gone missing, and Raphael is taking out his anger on Virgil, the weapons master of Heaven.
As soon as I land beside my deputy, she begins to list casualties, first from our side, and then from theirs. I cannot afford to look or feel tired, not if I want to retain command and sustain morale-most of the surviving angels are here, with us, watching. Waiting for orders, for our next move. The words that I spoke to Harriet rise again in my mind, unbidden, and I hold back a sigh.
Angels have no paradise.
****************************************
The next morning, I’m perched near the top of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, all senses shut down save for my hearing. I’m listening intently for Crowley’s voice when I suddenly hear my name, spoken in prayer by an unfamiliar voice.
A demon’s voice.
Castiel! she calls out again, and I take flight in her direction.
I land in an alley, behind a demon in the body of a young woman. She stiffens slightly upon my arrival. “Come out,” she says, and I can tell she’s trying to keep the shaking out of her voice. “I know you’re here,” she says in a sing-song voice that does much better to mask her trepidation.
“I’m here,” I say, uncloaking myself.
She spins around, and I study her true face. This is a young demon, perhaps even prematurely pulled from the torture chambers.
“Oh, hello,” she says, leering. I note that she has a bit of an accent. “You are a lot prettier than I thought you’d be. Words don’t really do you justice, do they, angel? If I could pluck out those gorgeous baby blues and sell ‘em, I bet they’d be worth a fortune.”
“You don’t work for Crowley,” I say-she seems so fresh. Crowley doesn’t use younger demons because they’re too reckless. They’re the ones who typically fall prey to hunters like the Winchesters.
“No,” she says with a smile, but she doesn’t offer any more information.
“I am at a disadvantage,” I finally say. “Who are you?” It is possible for me to identify her, but demons’ souls have been twisted so that they’re misshapen, and it is easy to misidentify them. Besides, most of them adopt new names, leaving their human pasts behind.
She steps toward me, and it seems that now that I am visible, she’s less afraid. Her hand lifts up as though to press to my chest, and I back up a step. Her hand remains raised but does not follow my motion, and she smiles.
“Bela Talbot, at your service,” she says.
As these words leave her mouth, I hear another prayer, this time from Sam.
Hey, Cas. Um, Dean… we might have lost him. Please, please tell me you know where he is.
I turn a glare on Bela, and she smiles knowingly, confirming my suspicion. “What have you done to him?” I demand.
“Just a bit of warding magic,” Bela says. “I promise, he’s perfectly safe. When I left him, he was still shouting his lungs out at me.”
I surge forward with one powerful flap of my wings and wrap one hand around her neck, pinning her easily to a wall.
She struggles helplessly against my grip before giving up. “If you kill me, you’ll never find him,” she says.
“What do you want?” I demand through gritted teeth, and even as I ask this, I think of Balthazar. Oh, Balthazar. How could he let Dean out of his sight? If anything happens to him…
“My master wants to speak with you, but she knew you wouldn’t talk to her without the right leverage. We took Crowley yesterday, but she said he wouldn’t be enough incentive, so she sent me to pick up an old friend.”
“You knew Dean?”
She smiles. “Not in the biblical sense, but yes, I did know Dean, before I was dragged into the pit.”
I wonder if Dean knows who she is, if he was able to recognize her. I’m sure that she would have looked different as a human, as I can tell that she’s possessing someone else right now.
“So, will you speak to my master?” she asks, and her voice wavers slightly.
“Yes, but only if you return Dean to me immediately.”
“I can’t, I’m sorry. Not until you’ve already spoken to her.”
“I promise I will speak to your master. Now tell me where he is, or I will make the racks of Hell look like a pleasant vacation,” I snarl.
She swallows nervously, the motion made difficult by the hand that I still have pressed against her throat. “F-fine,” she says. “You’ll be able to find my-”
“I know where to find Meg,” I interrupt impatiently, and her eyes widen slightly as though she’s surprised that I already know who she’s working for. “Now where is Dean?”
“I’ll take him back to where I found him,” she says.
“To Bobby Singer’s,” I counter. “I don’t care where you found him. Take him to Bobby’s. If you hurt any one of my friends, I will find you, and I will kill you. Warding magic may be strong, but it can be overcome. Do you understand me?”
She nods once. Then she frowns. “How am I to know which humans are your friends?”
“You won’t,” I say. “So I suggest that you tread lightly, Bela Talbot.”
With that, I fly away.
After quickly informing Balthazar that a demon by the name of Bela Talbot will be bringing Dean back and that he faces another blade to the heart if Dean is hurt, I descend yet again into Hell. This time, when the cold hits me, I barely flinch. I hate that I’ve become so accustomed to the environment of Hell-I have spent far too much time here for any pure celestial being.
Then again, I’m hardly a pure angel anymore. It doesn’t matter the state of purity to which I’ve been restored-it’s true that a tainted angel cannot return pure, but I still feel tainted. And yet again, I ponder those words. Little One, You Are Different…
Meg is waiting for me exactly where I expected her to be-by the cage.
“Hello, Cas,” she says. “It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Not really,” I respond. “Why did you want to see me?”
She smiles. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you, dear?” When it becomes clear that I won’t respond, her smile fades, and she says, “Fine, we’ll get straight to business. I want the target off my back.”
“Target? I haven’t-”
“Crowley,” she interrupts. “His dogs have been hunting me ever since you torched those fake bones of his. I thought they were out for revenge and would give up, as usual, but they just kept coming. And then I found out that he was still alive. Imagine my surprise.”
“And what do you expect me to do? We in Heaven do not interfere with the quarrels of Hell.”
“Yes, because your people never get into arguments or, I don’t know, start civil wars…”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to talk Crowley out of hunting me down.”
“You can do that yourself. In fact, you could kill him. He’s not much of a fighter, compared to you.” She says nothing, so I must be on the right track. “What is it that you really want, then?” I ask.
She looks away. “I want to switch sides.”
I blink once. Twice. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired of being the only one still fighting. You had to fight on the losing side before, so you know how it feels. Now imagine being the only one left.”
“I still would not be giving in. I would die.”
“Yes, well, that’s why you’re an angel, and I’m a demon. Look, I can fight. I’m smart. You’re up against some of the nastiest bitches ever, and I know a nasty bitch when I see one. You need all the help you can get.”
I look over at the cage and only see Adam’s broken body, preserved by the cold. “And your father? Lucifer?”
She looks at the cage spitefully. “He doesn’t speak anymore. But I know he’s in there!” she shouts in its direction.
No response.
“Is this an act of rebellion due to your…” I remember a phrase that I’ve heard Dean use before “…daddy issues?”
She sighs and turns back to face me. “Call it whatever you want. Just… can I…” her voice trails off.
But I’m not letting her get away with that. “Can you what?” I ask.
She looks angry, but she says, “Can I join you? We can go back to killing each other after the Leviathans are gone.”
“Reveal Crowley first.”
Meg rolls her eyes and chants an unmasking charm in old Enochian.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“My father spent some time teaching us to defend ourselves, you know. At least, the ones who stood a chance.”
“So you mean, only you,” Crowley says, and I see him, bound in place by a Devil’s trap.
Meg ignores him and steps closer to me. “What do you say, Cas, hmm?”
“Don’t listen to her, Cas. She’s lying. I never sent Hellhounds-”
“Don’t call me a liar, Crowley,” Meg says, anger flashing through her eyes. “As though you’re so much better yourself.”
“I do have one question,” I say. “Where are the hounds now, if they’re always after you?”
“It’s too cold for them here, so near the cage,” Meg responds.
Crowley doesn’t disagree; instead, he says, “Why are we wasting time here? Get smiting, and then get me out of here.”
Meg’s eyes flick to mine, and I detect a hint of wariness in them. “Castiel…” she sighs. “Please.”
I hold out a hand in Crowley’s direction and break the trap that holds him. He steps out of it, looking smug.
“Very well,” I say to Meg, and the expression on Crowley’s face instantly turns sour. Meg, on the other hand, looks surprised. Pleased, but surprised.
“Cas, what-” Crowley begins, but I silence him with a look.
“Meg,” I say, “there are conditions. I honestly don’t care about the power struggles of Hell, but I will not have them interfering with my goal. I do not feel comfortable trusting you, and we are not so desperate for help as to place trust in you simply because you’re offering.”
“So… what? Do you want me to earn your trust?” she says mockingly.
“Precisely.” At the incredulous look on her face, I add, “It is not an unreasonable request. Until we decide we can trust you, you will defer to me, to the Winchesters, and to-”
“Not Crowley.”
“Yes, Crowley,” I contradict. She looks at me mutinously, and I shake my head. “What did you expect? You are the one who is asking to join our side. Did you think we would welcome you with open arms?”
“Fine,” Meg says through gritted teeth. “But please tell me I don’t have to spend all my time with Crowley.”
I glance at Crowley and see that he doesn’t look excited at the prospect of spending more time with her, either. “We will pay the Winchesters a visit,” I decide. “If they turn you away, you will remain with Crowley.”
Meg looks at me suspiciously. “You would let me travel with your precious Winchester brothers?”
“My friend is watching over them. I would advise you to be careful.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course. But… if there was an angel with them, how did Bela-”
“Yes, that is a question that I would like answered as well,” I say. Then I turn to Crowley. “The meeting-”
He shakes his head. “Mine didn’t go well. You’d think that as long as the Leviathans spent locked up in Purgatory, their brains would have rotted away by now. But they seem to have caught on to the inner workings of modern human politics alarmingly quickly.”
I nod. “Not much was discussed at the luncheon.”
“Ah, I expected as much,” Crowley says. “If they were both too aggressive about it…” he shakes his head. “I just don’t like that they’ve got such a comfortable position.”
Meg speaks up. “Mind telling me what you two are talking about?”
“Yes,” Crowley says. He looks at me. “Do I have to go with you two?” he asks.
I consider it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, come along.”
I turn and lead the way out of the icy cold. At the end of the tunnel, I see no Hellhounds. But Meg doesn’t step out, looking at Crowley pointedly.
“Oh, all right,” he finally says, snapping his fingers once.
We leave Hell without further incident, and I center my focus on Dean. If he is not safe and sound at Bobby’s, that Bela Talbot is as good as dead.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 3700 (Running Total: 70900)
Summary: After escaping from Death's clutches yet again, Cas jumps right into the fight against the Leviathans. Post-7x10. "I am an angel of the Lord. Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you everything."
Chapter 20 - Where the Grass Is Green (and the Girls Are Pretty)
Dean’s raking leaves. I haven’t seen him so relaxed in quite some time-it’s been two weeks since I last saw him, two weeks since I raised Sam.
I need help. There is no way that I could win against Raphael, not in a straight fight. He is still an archangel, and I… I am still nothing. He could crush me just as easily as he did last time, and then the Apocalypse would begin yet again. I cannot die, because the angels who follow me still do not understand the concept of free will. They would take my death as a sign that God disapproves of my beliefs, and then they would fall back behind Raphael.
I cannot allow the world to end, not after all that Sam and Dean sacrificed.
But I cannot ask Dean for even more. He’s given far more than enough, lost far more than is fair. I can’t bear the thought of forcing him to give up the chance at a normal life he’s worked so hard to find. I can’t force him to break his promise to Sam.
“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday,” a familiar voice says, and I turn around to see Crowley standing just a few yards away from me. “Just not your day, is it?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I want to help you help me, help ourselves.”
“Speak plain.”
“I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”
“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an angel, you ass. I don’t have a soul to sell.”
“But that’s it, isn’t it? It’s all of it. It’s the souls. It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn’t it?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Raphael’s head on a pike. I’m talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. Come on. Just a chat,” he says, starting to turn away.
“I have no interest in talking with you.”
“Why not? I’m very interesting. Come on. Hear me out. Five minutes. No obligations. I promise.”
I glance back over my shoulder at Dean and wonder what he would say about listening to Crowley for a few minutes.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Crowley adds, half-turning in preparation to leave.
I wish I could speak with Dean, ask what he thinks of this. After all, he was the one who taught me about making choices. It makes sense to ask him what he thinks of my choice. But he is retired, and he is to stay that way. If I talk to him about this, there is no way that he will stay uninvolved. It is against his nature to let other people suffer when there is something he can do about it.
As Dean bags the leaves that he’d been raking, I turn toward Crowley and follow him away. I am still an angel, and he is still a demon. I can still smite him. And perhaps, against all odds, Crowley will actually have a solution to my problem…
****************************************
I wait impatiently for the final senator to leave before taking flight.
Crowley didn’t show. At the forty minute mark, I thought that perhaps he had been delayed. But he still has not arrived, and I am worried. He claimed that he would make sure I’d be able to find him, but as I reach out for him, I find nothing.
Could something be wrong with me?
I land on the south bank of one stretch of the Amazon River and close my eyes to concentrate. I expand my awareness as far as it can go and try to hone in on the demon, but I find nothing. No, this can’t be right. If Crowley intended for me to be able to find him, then something has definitely gone wrong in his plans.
My immediate concern is for the welfare of Sam and Dean-their lives mean more to me than almost anything else. So I center my focus and locate Dean in a car, en route to Bobby’s new home in Kansas.
“Hello, Dean,” I say.
The car swerves wildly, and both brothers curse loudly.
“Jesus!” Dean barks. “Don’t do that, okay?”
“You’d think that you’d be used to it by now,” Sam says.
“You were surprised, too,” Dean points out.
“Yeah, but I’m not the one freaking out.”
“You’re not the one with the freaky angel-bond thing going on.”
“If you’d both shut up, I’d like to speak now,” I say before Sam can retort.
“Right-sorry, Cas. What’s up?” Sam asks.
“Have either of you seen Crowley?”
“Um, no. I assumed he was with you,” Dean says.
“He isn’t.”
“Yeah, we got that. So, what? Did something go wrong? Give us something to work with, Cas.”
I frown. As grateful as I am that Sam and Dean are well, there must be something wrong. Crowley could be dead-that would be unfortunate.
“Cas?” Sam says, twisting in his seat so that he can see me.
I look up at him and address Balthazar instead. “Stay with them,” I say. “Something isn’t right, and I feel that it isn’t the Leviathans. Don’t leave them alone under any circumstances.”
“Cas, what the hell-” Dean begins to say, but I’ve already looked into Sam’s mind and found Balthazar’s acknowledgement of my request.
Satisfied that the boys won’t be left vulnerable, I take off again. There’s a slim chance that I just wasn’t looking hard enough. I put all of my focus on picking up traces of Crowley anywhere on Earth-it should be difficult for me to miss the king of Hell, especially if he intends to be found by me-before descending into Hell, but I do not sense his presence there, either.
Crowley, where are you?
****************************************
I walk through a now-barren realm of Heaven, looking around. The only remains are numerous scorched outlines of wings, the wings of my brothers and sisters. Some of them were put here by my own hands.
I look down at said hands and clench them into fists, allowing power to flow to the surface. I am using the power of fifty thousand souls, yet Raphael’s might is still greater than mine. Archangels truly are Heaven’s most powerful weapons.
I wish that I could share some of my power to make those brothers who have joined me stronger than those who elected to stay with Raphael, but they would question the origin of these souls. And while I am willing to use Crowley as a means to an end, my friends, my brothers, are unlikely to see it that way. So all I can do is covertly cocoon each of my warriors with extra defenses and let them take it as a sign from God that they are protected.
Suddenly, there’s movement near the ground, and I tense up, expecting an ambush.
But no-the figure who sits up is the human soul to whom this realm belongs. She looks around with scared eyes, and I study her.
Harriet Saltzman, daughter of a hunting father who died only months after she was born and an overprotective mother who tried everything in her power to keep Harriet under locks. This girl died young, attempting revenge on the vampire who’d killed her father.
I slowly move to her side and kneel down, and when she turns her face toward me, there are tears in her eyes.
“How can this be paradise?” she asks me.
I touch her cheek and wipe away a tear that has slipped from her eye. “I apologize, Harriet. You were not meant to see all of this.” I clear away all the remnants of our latest battle, but the sadness in Harriet’s eyes remains. “Would you like me to take away the memory?” I ask gently.
She shakes her head. “No, because then I would forget your kindness, as well. The other angels I’ve met… they were all so cold.”
“As you wish,” I say.
Her eyes follow me as I regain my feet, and she repeats her query. “How can this be paradise?”
I wave my hand, and all that had once been her paradise returns into being. “It just is,” I tell her. “This is your paradise. Rest now, Harriet.”
But as I turn to leave, she grabs my hand, and I turn back slightly to look at her.
“But what about your paradise?” she asks.
I pull her to her feet and look her in the eyes as I say, “Angels have no paradise. Now, I must go.”
Before she can hold me back with another question, I fly away. Before all of this, I would have offered up a prayer for her soul, but if God is still alive, He certainly isn’t listening anymore. There is no point.
I do not think I have ever resented Him more than I do now, for the home He created for us is not even truly our home. It serves as paradise for the favored humans, reward for their lives well lived. But what of us? What of the angels who serve Him ceaselessly?
I shake away these useless thoughts and bring my focus back to the present-I must find Rachel and devise a strategy before Raphael strikes again. We have some time, because the weapons of Heaven have gone missing, and Raphael is taking out his anger on Virgil, the weapons master of Heaven.
As soon as I land beside my deputy, she begins to list casualties, first from our side, and then from theirs. I cannot afford to look or feel tired, not if I want to retain command and sustain morale-most of the surviving angels are here, with us, watching. Waiting for orders, for our next move. The words that I spoke to Harriet rise again in my mind, unbidden, and I hold back a sigh.
Angels have no paradise.
****************************************
The next morning, I’m perched near the top of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, all senses shut down save for my hearing. I’m listening intently for Crowley’s voice when I suddenly hear my name, spoken in prayer by an unfamiliar voice.
A demon’s voice.
Castiel! she calls out again, and I take flight in her direction.
I land in an alley, behind a demon in the body of a young woman. She stiffens slightly upon my arrival. “Come out,” she says, and I can tell she’s trying to keep the shaking out of her voice. “I know you’re here,” she says in a sing-song voice that does much better to mask her trepidation.
“I’m here,” I say, uncloaking myself.
She spins around, and I study her true face. This is a young demon, perhaps even prematurely pulled from the torture chambers.
“Oh, hello,” she says, leering. I note that she has a bit of an accent. “You are a lot prettier than I thought you’d be. Words don’t really do you justice, do they, angel? If I could pluck out those gorgeous baby blues and sell ‘em, I bet they’d be worth a fortune.”
“You don’t work for Crowley,” I say-she seems so fresh. Crowley doesn’t use younger demons because they’re too reckless. They’re the ones who typically fall prey to hunters like the Winchesters.
“No,” she says with a smile, but she doesn’t offer any more information.
“I am at a disadvantage,” I finally say. “Who are you?” It is possible for me to identify her, but demons’ souls have been twisted so that they’re misshapen, and it is easy to misidentify them. Besides, most of them adopt new names, leaving their human pasts behind.
She steps toward me, and it seems that now that I am visible, she’s less afraid. Her hand lifts up as though to press to my chest, and I back up a step. Her hand remains raised but does not follow my motion, and she smiles.
“Bela Talbot, at your service,” she says.
As these words leave her mouth, I hear another prayer, this time from Sam.
Hey, Cas. Um, Dean… we might have lost him. Please, please tell me you know where he is.
I turn a glare on Bela, and she smiles knowingly, confirming my suspicion. “What have you done to him?” I demand.
“Just a bit of warding magic,” Bela says. “I promise, he’s perfectly safe. When I left him, he was still shouting his lungs out at me.”
I surge forward with one powerful flap of my wings and wrap one hand around her neck, pinning her easily to a wall.
She struggles helplessly against my grip before giving up. “If you kill me, you’ll never find him,” she says.
“What do you want?” I demand through gritted teeth, and even as I ask this, I think of Balthazar. Oh, Balthazar. How could he let Dean out of his sight? If anything happens to him…
“My master wants to speak with you, but she knew you wouldn’t talk to her without the right leverage. We took Crowley yesterday, but she said he wouldn’t be enough incentive, so she sent me to pick up an old friend.”
“You knew Dean?”
She smiles. “Not in the biblical sense, but yes, I did know Dean, before I was dragged into the pit.”
I wonder if Dean knows who she is, if he was able to recognize her. I’m sure that she would have looked different as a human, as I can tell that she’s possessing someone else right now.
“So, will you speak to my master?” she asks, and her voice wavers slightly.
“Yes, but only if you return Dean to me immediately.”
“I can’t, I’m sorry. Not until you’ve already spoken to her.”
“I promise I will speak to your master. Now tell me where he is, or I will make the racks of Hell look like a pleasant vacation,” I snarl.
She swallows nervously, the motion made difficult by the hand that I still have pressed against her throat. “F-fine,” she says. “You’ll be able to find my-”
“I know where to find Meg,” I interrupt impatiently, and her eyes widen slightly as though she’s surprised that I already know who she’s working for. “Now where is Dean?”
“I’ll take him back to where I found him,” she says.
“To Bobby Singer’s,” I counter. “I don’t care where you found him. Take him to Bobby’s. If you hurt any one of my friends, I will find you, and I will kill you. Warding magic may be strong, but it can be overcome. Do you understand me?”
She nods once. Then she frowns. “How am I to know which humans are your friends?”
“You won’t,” I say. “So I suggest that you tread lightly, Bela Talbot.”
With that, I fly away.
After quickly informing Balthazar that a demon by the name of Bela Talbot will be bringing Dean back and that he faces another blade to the heart if Dean is hurt, I descend yet again into Hell. This time, when the cold hits me, I barely flinch. I hate that I’ve become so accustomed to the environment of Hell-I have spent far too much time here for any pure celestial being.
Then again, I’m hardly a pure angel anymore. It doesn’t matter the state of purity to which I’ve been restored-it’s true that a tainted angel cannot return pure, but I still feel tainted. And yet again, I ponder those words. Little One, You Are Different…
Meg is waiting for me exactly where I expected her to be-by the cage.
“Hello, Cas,” she says. “It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Not really,” I respond. “Why did you want to see me?”
She smiles. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you, dear?” When it becomes clear that I won’t respond, her smile fades, and she says, “Fine, we’ll get straight to business. I want the target off my back.”
“Target? I haven’t-”
“Crowley,” she interrupts. “His dogs have been hunting me ever since you torched those fake bones of his. I thought they were out for revenge and would give up, as usual, but they just kept coming. And then I found out that he was still alive. Imagine my surprise.”
“And what do you expect me to do? We in Heaven do not interfere with the quarrels of Hell.”
“Yes, because your people never get into arguments or, I don’t know, start civil wars…”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to talk Crowley out of hunting me down.”
“You can do that yourself. In fact, you could kill him. He’s not much of a fighter, compared to you.” She says nothing, so I must be on the right track. “What is it that you really want, then?” I ask.
She looks away. “I want to switch sides.”
I blink once. Twice. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired of being the only one still fighting. You had to fight on the losing side before, so you know how it feels. Now imagine being the only one left.”
“I still would not be giving in. I would die.”
“Yes, well, that’s why you’re an angel, and I’m a demon. Look, I can fight. I’m smart. You’re up against some of the nastiest bitches ever, and I know a nasty bitch when I see one. You need all the help you can get.”
I look over at the cage and only see Adam’s broken body, preserved by the cold. “And your father? Lucifer?”
She looks at the cage spitefully. “He doesn’t speak anymore. But I know he’s in there!” she shouts in its direction.
No response.
“Is this an act of rebellion due to your…” I remember a phrase that I’ve heard Dean use before “…daddy issues?”
She sighs and turns back to face me. “Call it whatever you want. Just… can I…” her voice trails off.
But I’m not letting her get away with that. “Can you what?” I ask.
She looks angry, but she says, “Can I join you? We can go back to killing each other after the Leviathans are gone.”
“Reveal Crowley first.”
Meg rolls her eyes and chants an unmasking charm in old Enochian.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“My father spent some time teaching us to defend ourselves, you know. At least, the ones who stood a chance.”
“So you mean, only you,” Crowley says, and I see him, bound in place by a Devil’s trap.
Meg ignores him and steps closer to me. “What do you say, Cas, hmm?”
“Don’t listen to her, Cas. She’s lying. I never sent Hellhounds-”
“Don’t call me a liar, Crowley,” Meg says, anger flashing through her eyes. “As though you’re so much better yourself.”
“I do have one question,” I say. “Where are the hounds now, if they’re always after you?”
“It’s too cold for them here, so near the cage,” Meg responds.
Crowley doesn’t disagree; instead, he says, “Why are we wasting time here? Get smiting, and then get me out of here.”
Meg’s eyes flick to mine, and I detect a hint of wariness in them. “Castiel…” she sighs. “Please.”
I hold out a hand in Crowley’s direction and break the trap that holds him. He steps out of it, looking smug.
“Very well,” I say to Meg, and the expression on Crowley’s face instantly turns sour. Meg, on the other hand, looks surprised. Pleased, but surprised.
“Cas, what-” Crowley begins, but I silence him with a look.
“Meg,” I say, “there are conditions. I honestly don’t care about the power struggles of Hell, but I will not have them interfering with my goal. I do not feel comfortable trusting you, and we are not so desperate for help as to place trust in you simply because you’re offering.”
“So… what? Do you want me to earn your trust?” she says mockingly.
“Precisely.” At the incredulous look on her face, I add, “It is not an unreasonable request. Until we decide we can trust you, you will defer to me, to the Winchesters, and to-”
“Not Crowley.”
“Yes, Crowley,” I contradict. She looks at me mutinously, and I shake my head. “What did you expect? You are the one who is asking to join our side. Did you think we would welcome you with open arms?”
“Fine,” Meg says through gritted teeth. “But please tell me I don’t have to spend all my time with Crowley.”
I glance at Crowley and see that he doesn’t look excited at the prospect of spending more time with her, either. “We will pay the Winchesters a visit,” I decide. “If they turn you away, you will remain with Crowley.”
Meg looks at me suspiciously. “You would let me travel with your precious Winchester brothers?”
“My friend is watching over them. I would advise you to be careful.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course. But… if there was an angel with them, how did Bela-”
“Yes, that is a question that I would like answered as well,” I say. Then I turn to Crowley. “The meeting-”
He shakes his head. “Mine didn’t go well. You’d think that as long as the Leviathans spent locked up in Purgatory, their brains would have rotted away by now. But they seem to have caught on to the inner workings of modern human politics alarmingly quickly.”
I nod. “Not much was discussed at the luncheon.”
“Ah, I expected as much,” Crowley says. “If they were both too aggressive about it…” he shakes his head. “I just don’t like that they’ve got such a comfortable position.”
Meg speaks up. “Mind telling me what you two are talking about?”
“Yes,” Crowley says. He looks at me. “Do I have to go with you two?” he asks.
I consider it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, come along.”
I turn and lead the way out of the icy cold. At the end of the tunnel, I see no Hellhounds. But Meg doesn’t step out, looking at Crowley pointedly.
“Oh, all right,” he finally says, snapping his fingers once.
We leave Hell without further incident, and I center my focus on Dean. If he is not safe and sound at Bobby’s, that Bela Talbot is as good as dead.