Fic: But Water Is Wider 3/5 (Supernatural/White Collar; R)
Title: But Water Is Wider
Author: misachan
Artist: sgmajorshipper (Link to Art Master Post)
Crossover: Supernatural/White Collar
Word Count: 6004
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Peter/Elizabeth, Neal, Sam, Jones, Diana
Warnings: Hellhound-related violence, some language
Spoilers: Set S5 for SPN, S2 for White Collar
Summary: Dean knows they've had hunts go worse than this, but right now he's having trouble thinking of any. What should have been a simple haunted painting salt-and-burn gets sticky when the head of the theft ring they've conned their way into turns out to be on the FBI payroll. With Sam stuck in custody Dean calls in Castiel, hoping some angel mojo might lead to a quick escape and Cas quickly finds enough bubbling beneath the surface to attract his attention - like hellhounds prowling the halls of FBI headquarters. Sam also finds the day full of surprises: when Agent Burke starts the interrogation the only questions he has involve a thick file all about Sam and Dean, a fire in a Colorado police precinct and how Victor Hendrickson really died.
Neal knows he should have slipped his tracker and run off days ago, when he first heard the howls. Now he's scrambling to keep his old crossroads mistake from bringing everyone down with him, and it's not long before Peter, Dean, Sam, Cas, Jones and Diana all find themselves caught in the web, and Elizabeth finds herself with a choice: rejoin the family she's left behind or save the one she's built.
When hellhounds come baying for blood, even angels have nowhere to hide.
Dean hated when Castiel zapped him places; he didn't know what flying felt like to angels but Dean always felt like he'd been squeezed out through a tube like so much cake frosting. He opened his eyes and didn't see anything, which wasn't all that unusual (although only being able to see in black and white for a while was the more common fun side effect of taking angel airlines) but after few seconds Dean realized it really was just dark. His felt fabric brush his face and as his eyes adjusted he realized they were in some kind of closet; he took a breath to ask Cas what the hell when he felt Cas' hand clamp over his mouth. There was just enough light for him to see Castiel glare Quiet at him, and when Dean felt resentment start to build up he choked it down. He'd said he was with Castiel on this, and that meant following his lead, at least for now. Hunt first, bitch about how the hunt was handled later, Dean knew anything else tended to get people killed. He nodded and Castiel moved his hand away, just in time for them both to hear voices coming from the next room.
The closet was open just a crack and Dean crouched down, trying to get the best view he could; he saw Burke pacing in and out of his field of vision, grumbling into his cell phone and trying to knot his necktie one handed. When the call ended he pulled his arm back, like he was about to hurl the phone before thinking better of it, and Dean saw Elizabeth Burke walk up, take the phone and put it aside as she repaired the hash job he'd made on the tie. "You'll find him," she said.
"But why now? That's what I don't get, why run now?" Dean saw him shake his head. "He's been too quiet, I should have picked up on it...."
"You can ask him when you find him," she said, although Dean could tell by the tense way she held her shoulders that the optimistic tone was a lie. She planted a quick peck on his cheek as she finished straightening his suit jacket.
"I'm sorry I wasn't home longer," he said, kissing her back, and Dean rolled his eyes. If these two were this sappy all the time he didn't know how anyone put up with them.
Burke made to pull away and she handed him something Dean couldn't make out. "Don't forget this," she said. "Not that I want you to shoot Neal."
Dean saw Burke let out a rueful, I'm such an idiot breath as he holstered the weapon, then he felt Castiel shift beside him. "That was clever," he murmured, waving Dean away when Dean sent him a questioning look.
Dean just shook his head and went back to spying; Burke kissed Elizabeth one more time before rushing out, the phone back to his ear as he barked orders to whatever poor son of a bitch was on the other line. Elizabeth walked out of his field of vision, and it was only a few seconds later that he heard the door slam closed. Before he could say anything to Castiel about maybe they should get out of here he heard her voice. "It's safe now, you two."
Castiel just answered with a quizzical look when Dean glared at him, as if he couldn't imagine why Dean wouldn't know she could tell they were there the whole time, then Dean swung the door open. "Guess all angels are fuzzy around boundary issues," he grumbled, his mood not improved when they both ignored him. He stepped into a nice-decorated apartment that made him afraid to touch anything; he spotted Elizabeth leaning against the couch, rubbing her forehead, and when she looked up he saw gratitude mixed in with the worry.
"I didn't mean you had to come right now," she said, her lips tipping up into a tired smile.
"Yeah, well, don't tell Cas things if you don't want him to take it literally." He felt Castiel's eyes cut toward him and answered by narrowing his own; he'd promised Cas he'd help but that meant Dean was absolutely also going to tease the guy in front of his sister and there was nothing Castiel could do about it.
Castiel clearly decided to deal with Dean by ignoring him, turning away and studying Elizabeth. "He didn't forget his weapon," he said, a statement instead of a question.
She seemed to find the very idea of that hilarious. "Peter, just forget his gun? No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "If he wasn't running on five hours sleep over three days there's no way that would have worked.
"Can someone please fill in the only human in the room?"
Castiel glanced over at him. "Conventional weapons would do nothing against a hellhound," he said, as if Dean didn't already know that. When Dean didn't seem to be getting it Cas sighed. "They don't have to look like swords, Dean."
"Oh!" Dean said, looking back at Elizabeth. "That is pretty smart."
"Thank you," she said, running one hand through her hair. "I just wish that was all he needed. I keep picturing him finding Neal and them being there and Peter not seeing them coming...." Before she could even finish the sentence Castiel disappeared in a flutter of wings, blowing papers all over the room. She gave Dean an apologetic look. "I swear, I didn't mean for him to do that."
"I tell you, dude is fucking thrilled. He'd probably fly up to the moon if you said it was a good idea." He leaned against the arm of the sofa. "He Captain Literal up in Heaven, too?"
"He's very earnest, if that's what you mean," she said, still looking fondly at the empty space where Castiel had been. "Very quiet, too. And very smart, especially when he's underestimated." She pushed her hair out of her face as she looked at Dean. "Feel free to run for the hills now."
"Nah, I got the afternoon free. Gotta kill the time somehow." He crossed his arms, catching himself running his hands down hellhound scars he knew should be there. "Although if I did I take it Caffrey would have already beaten me to it."
"He has a tracking anklet, it only has a two mile range. I thought we could contain this, if we could know where he was I thought at least we'd know where they'd be...." She let out a long sigh. "Neal's very smart too. He's only been dark twenty minutes but that's plenty of time to get out of the city."
"Can't you use angel power to find him?"
She shook her head. "I tried a locating spell years ago, and it didn't work then. If Neal Caffrey doesn't want to be found he doesn't make it easy."
"When Cas gets back we can have him try. He's good at that, he tracked someone through time once."
Dean saw her expression darken. "Is it really as bad as he says?"
Dean hesitated for a second, then nodded. "If he's saying it's bad, I'd probably multiply it by ten. Guy's not exactly popular upstairs. Look at how happy he is to finally run into one of his sibs who doesn't want to stab him before saying hi."
"I've missed a lot." She drummed her fingers against the back of the sofa, giving Dean a sideways look. "Can I see it?" she said, the corner of her mouth tugging up.
Dean frowned until she gestured at her shoulder, then he just rolled his eyes as he pushed up his sleeve. "Angel chicks just can't get enough of the handprint," he groused, grinning so she knew he really wasn't upset. "How'd you even know it there, anyway?"
"Oh, sweetie, you broadcast," she said. "You might as well have Righteous Man flashing over your head whenever any of us look at you."
"Great," he said, fighting the urge to bury his head in his hands.
"This is sloppy for him," she said, clicking her tongue. "He must have been in a hurry."
"Any idea why he put a big handprint on my shoulder?"
"He never told you?" she said, looking up at him, and to be fair Dean knew he'd never asked. "He said he'd been wounded getting you out of hell and wanted to make sure that if he couldn't get you out himself whoever they sent next would be able to find you."
Dean didn't like the way that thought curdled in his stomach. "Cas never told me he got hurt dragging me out."
She just patted his other, unscarred shoulder. "The two of you were in Hell, not at a day spa. Of course he got hurt during all that."
"I don't remember anything about it. Him getting me, I mean. As far as I knew, one second I was in the Pit, the next I was clawing my way out of my own grave. Which was a totally dick thing to make me do, by the way."
"I doubt you having to do that occurred to him, really, especially if it wasn't an explicit part of the mission. Like you said, literal. Especially before meeting you," she said, smiling like she knew a private joke.
"I...I wasn't the one who hurt him, was I?" Dean asked, not sure why the thought had occurred to him. "I mean, down there I was...."
"I doubt it," she said, giving his shoulder another reassuring pat. "There's much nastier things down in the Pit than even Dean Winchester." She touched just the edge of the handprint and Dean flinched away, stifling a very un-macho giggle. "Did that hurt?"
"Nah." He was not blushing he was not blushing. "Just feels...I dunno. Weird."
"How about when he touches it?"
It took Dean a second to realize where he'd lost track of the conversation. "Beats me. How the hell would I know?" She just gave him another look, arching one eyebrow, baffling Dean as to what he was doing wrong. She didn't press, though, backing away and letting Dean roll back his sleeve. "So, you really think your husband can track down Caffrey?"
"He's done it before," she said. "If anyone can track down Neal, it's Peter."
"Yeah, well, I'm not big on sitting around waiting for hellhounds to attack someone."
"Neither am I." She tapped one manicured fingernail against her teeth. "There might be something we can do to find him. I don't know if it'll work, be we can try."
"You got something? Another spell?"
"Not quite. Peter took the car, so if we'll...."
"Aw, man, please not again. Cas zapped me twice already today, I can only take so much."
"I was going to say we'll have to take a cab. That okay?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sure. Where the hell are we going?"
***
Elizabeth knocked on the door, sending an anxious glance toward Dean and the handgun poorly concealed in his waistband. She'd debated with herself on the ride over whether it would be smarter to leave Dean outside but she finally decided that the time she'd have to spend convincing him to go along with that would be more time than they could spare. Not to mention how horrible she would feel leaving him alone, especially since Castiel was looking after Peter.
Besides, whether he was with her or not, this was either going to be the best idea she'd ever had or blow up spectacularly. As it stood she felt guilty enough imposing on a friendship this way, but she didn't have time to dwell on that before Mozzie opened the door. "Mrs. Suit!" he said, surprise and delight in his voice and Elizabeth felt her heart sink. If he really was surprised that meant he hadn't even heard about Neal. "Tell me this means you've finally decided to leave that oaf you married."
"Sorry to disappoint," she said, feeling her lips tug up at the familiar, good-natured sparring. "Mozzie, I need your help. It's about Neal. Can I please come in?"
"Of course," he said, opening the door wider. "Mi casa es su casa, you're always welcome." She walked in, cringing when Dean followed without saying a word. "You...and heavily armed stranger I've never met before," he said, giving her a sharp look. She mouthed I'm sorry to him as he turned to Dean. "And you are...?"
"Friend of the family," was all Dean said and it was all Elizabeth could do not to roll her eyes. If she ever was blessed enough to be in the presence of her Father she knew the only question she'd want to ask would be why He'd seen fit to make men with so much testosterone. And there was something angry in Dean's voice she didn't understand at all. "Where'd you get this book?"
"Excuse me, I didn't get that. Who are you, exactly?"
It wasn't until she noticed how Mozzie had put himself between herself and Dean that she realized what was going on. "Mozzie, no," she said, putting one hand on his arm. "He is, really. He just has very bad manners." Dean glared at her and she answered with one of her own before sighing. "Dean, this is my friend Mozzie, Mozzie, this is Dean Winchester."
To her surprise, Mozzie narrowed his eyes at the name, surprised instead of aggressive. "No relation to John Winchester, are you?"
Now it was Dean's turn to be surprised. "That's my dad's name, how the hell did you know that?"
Mozzie just let out a scoffing, pffff sound, clearly enjoying having one over Dean. "You wouldn't believe half the things I know." He nodded over to the bookshelf Dean was examining. "He's the one who gave me that book, I'll tell you that. Sort of a...mutual exchange of favors a while back."
Elizabeth didn't think she could have been more surprised if Mozzie had turned out to be yet another angel himself. "Are you a hunter?"
"Are you?" he said, both eyebrows shooting up.
"No," she replied, happy she could at least say that honestly. "Like Dean said, he's a friend of the family."
"Well, that answers a few questions," he muttered under his breath. "And no, I'm not. I like living too much. Still, the best way to keep living is to know how the world really works." He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he seemed to force himself to accept that Dean was standing there poking at his things. "You said this is about Neal?"
"He went dark, just a little while ago. Mozzie, do you have any idea where he might go?"
Elizabeth didn't think she'd ever seen Mozzie this surprised so many times in one day. "He didn't tell me he was cutting the cord."
"We think he's in real trouble and not the kind he can get out of by himself, no matter what he thinks." Since the moment Castiel said Neal had made a deal she'd been fighting back the image of him strapped to one of the racks she knew made up the Pit, had tried to stop hearing his voice begging for help as some demon gouged out his eyes and carved his face from his skull. It hit like being doused in ice water that Peter would find his body torn apart and she wouldn't even be able to lie that he was in a better place. "Mozzie, if he contacts you promise me you'll call. This is life and death. More than that."
"Hey. Sure," he said, alarm on his face. "C'mon, don't cry, okay? This is Neal, he'll be fine. He always is." She hadn't even realized she was crying; when she sniffled he handed her a handkerchief, barely hiding his panic. "Hey, you want some tea? I just made some. I'll get us some tea."
She nodded and he disappeared into the back room so quickly she almost could have thought he'd flown. "Dean, what do we do now? I was really hoping he would be here."
"We focus on the hounds if we can't figure the demon. Kill all of them."
"They'll just send more. You don't wipe out a debt by killing the debt collectors." She crossed her arms as she ran through their options. "If the hounds catch him I'll pull him out."
"Yeah, if it took all that time for Cas to grab me I don't think it's just that easy," Dean said, keeping his voice gentle. "And it'll blow your cover with the idiots upstairs. I say we summon Crowley and make him tell us who wound up with the contract. This is a crossroads thing, he has to know."
"Fine, we summon him. How do we make him tell us? With what leverage?" Dean just raised one eyebrow and Elizabeth was so appalled she took a step back. "No. Absolutely not."
"It's the only language they understand down there."
"Um." They both turned to see Mozzie standing a few feet away. "Not that I was eavesdropping," he said, handing Elizabeth a small mug of green tea, "but there is a ritual to summon a demon right onto a devil's trap."
Dean could only stare. "Bullshit."
"Sure, you caught me, I just made that up for no reason," Mozzie snapped. "Or maybe you don't know everything that exists, how about that?"
"Mozzie," Elizabeth said, getting between them. "Is that true? I've never heard anything like that either."
She could actually see him make the conscious decision to ignore Dean's existence. "There is a ritual that does that. It's actually in that book right there," he said, pointing to the book he said John Winchester had given him. "It only works on a single demon once, but why would anyone want to summon the same demon twice?"
Elizabeth threw her arms around him, remembering at the last second to temper her strength so she didn't pick him right up off the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Neal has no idea how lucky he is to have you as a friend."
"Hey...uh, thanks," he said, blushing bright red. "I want that book back when you're done with it."
"You have my word," she promised before Dean could chime in.
He glared for a second but then went back to paging through the slim manual. "It says here we have to do this outside."
"I know the spot," she said, tugging him out the door by one sleeve. "Let's go."
***
Mozzie stared at the closed door for a long, long second, absently rubbing his cheek where Elizabeth had kissed him. Well. That had all been unexpected.
He went into his back room, crouched in front of his bureau and opened the third drawer on the left. When it was just slightly over halfway out he reached underneath and found the pressure plate that popped the hidden drawer underneath. He tapped open the false bottom on that (because really, who hides something valuable in the first secret drawer?) and pulled out the cell phone he kept for just such emergencies. Well, maybe not exactly this kind of emergency, this was exactly the kind of thing he tried hard to stay out of, but emergencies nonetheless. It didn't matter how hard Neal was running, Mozzie knew he would pick up if he saw the call was from this phone.
And sure enough, after two rings there was Neal's voice. "Hey, Mozzie, what's on fire?"
Apparently you very soon. "So, rumor has it your conscience finally caught up with you and you're making a long overdue bid for freedom."
Oh, that was much too nervous to be Neal Caffrey's laugh. "Yeah, guess you could say that."
"And were you going to be telling me about this any time?"
"Would you believe I was just about to call?" And no, Mozzie didn't believe that but he absolutely believed Neal was about to ask him for a favor. "Mozzie, you remember that box I gave you a while back? The one I said I hoped I would never have to ask for again?"
"Of course. And before you ask, of course I have it."
Mozzie thought that if Neal's sigh of relief wasn't the longest ever uttered in the history of man, it was at least a close second. "Good. I'm headed over there now."
"So, what tropical island are we retiring to?"
"Sorry, buddy. I have to fly solo on this one."
That was really the only confirmation Mozzie needed. "Well, get over here so we can say our overwrought goodbyes."
Neal actually laughed at that before hanging up. Mozzie stared at the blinking number on his phone for a long, long time, terror tying him into uncomfortable knots. Then he took a deep breath and dialed the phone again. Too much to do and too little time.
***
Castiel skulked around the corner, turning up his hearing to make out the conversation Peter was engaged in on his phone. "---telling you, Peter, the guy's gone. He's a ghost."
"How did that happen? I thought we had people on the doors."
"We still have people on the doors. That's what I'm saying, that's not how he left."
Castiel heard Peter let out a long sigh. "Walk me through this, Jones. What happened?"
"Wish I knew. Last I knew he was in the commissary, I had eyes on him myself, then I blinked and he was gone."
"What about his brother?"
"He's still in lock up. If this guy did take off running, he left his brother behind."
Castiel saw Peter shake his head. "That doesn't match the history. He'll be back for Sam, you can count on that. We just have to wait it out." Castiel had to admire how well this stranger could read Dean without having met him. It was a rare tactical skill and helped him understand what his sister saw in the man.
"Winchester was talking to someone, someone no one could ID. White guy, dark hair, wearing a suit and a trenchcoat."
Castiel saw Peter pull up short and winced. "Oh yeah? When?"
"A little bit before Caffrey went dark, maybe an hour or so ago."
"Couldn't be, then." He glanced behind and Castiel flattened himself against the wall; that was the second time Burke had almost spotted him. "Keep eyes on Sam. The brother will show up, hopefully the mystery accomplice too. Any luck with Neal?"
"I wish. We've got spotters on his usual haunts but nothing yet."
"Good job. Keep at it, I'll be there soon, I just have a lead of my own I'm working on."
"You do find Caffrey, kick his ass for the rest of us, okay?"
"You got it."
Castiel was so absorbed in his eavesdropping he didn't hear the growling until it was almost too late. He leapt forward as the creature sprinted past him, tackling it to the ground and dragging it back around the corner. It was the same strange color as the one he'd killed at FBI Headquarters, complete with the same unexpected strength; it managed to snap at his throat once before Castiel wrestled it back to the ground.
He could not remember the last time he was this angry. "Why are you attacking that human?" he hissed, holding it down. "He is not your quarry." The beast's acidic tongue lolled out of his mouth as it panted, trying to get away. And just like before it refused to answer him. Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Fine then." He took a deep breath, marshaling Grace and focusing it in his hands. "I bind you to my will."
The backlash when he touched the creature's flank caught him off guard; hellhounds as a rule weren't strong willed creatures but he supposed he should have expected that to be proven untrue by this strange breed like everything else. He was just relieved he managed to keep enough focus to avoid losing the spell; he drew the sigil on the beast's skin, thankfully a simple one, and indulged in a sneer when the thing whined as the mark burned in. "None of your pack are to harm Peter Burke," he murmured, pronouncing the Enochian in a slow chant, feeling the rush of Grace as he expanded the mark to all the hellhounds keening for Caffrey's blood. He couldn't call off the hunt, nothing but the demon that held the leash could do that, but he could at least manage this. "You shall not spill his blood nor taste his flesh nor break his skin," the chanted, the ancient words of the ritual propping him up. "To this and these words I bind thee and all thine." He drew his sword and slit the beast's throat, and not a moment to soon; in the instant between the final syllable and his drawing the blade he felt enough Grace rush out that he doubled over in pain. If he'd waited even another second he creature would have been free and would have been in great deal of trouble.
He curled up against the wall of the alley as the hellhound dissolved into so much bile and fought to catch his breath; he'd never been this winded by a binding spell before but these creatures were strong and he'd returned from death a shell of what he'd been. Considering that he couldn't even slay demons anymore he supposed he should be grateful he could at least still bind them.
It took a few painful seconds for his vision to clear; he realized his phone was ringing and wondered how long that had been happening. It took two tries to fish the device out of his pocket. "What is it?"
"Cas?" Dean said, clear alarm in his voice. Castiel knew he must truly sound terrible if just three words had made Dean so concerned so quickly. "You okay? Why're you out of breath? "
"I had something important to do."
"How's your brother-in-law?"
It took a moment for Castiel to remember what that phrase meant. "You can tell Elizabeth he no long needs to fear the hounds."
"Hey, great, just what I wanted to hear. We're about to do a summoning and we could use the extra mojo."
Castiel nodded, forgetting that Dean couldn't see it. "I'll be there." He glanced back around the corner once, watching Burke talk to someone else on his phone. Then, confident he was safe, Castiel reached out for his sister's Grace and flew toward it.
***
Peter ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He hated when important calls had inconvenient timing; as glad as he was to have taken that he wished it had been five minutes later.
Maybe Elizabeth's long lost brother wasn't Dean Winchester's accomplice, the timing for that didn't seem to match at all, but Peter was absolutely sure this Cas had been following him since he left the house. It was half the reason he'd gotten out of the car in the first place; after spotting him three times in twenty minutes Peter had wanted to make sure he was actually being followed and not just having stress-and-insomnia based delusions.
Fortunately, only one of them knew New York well enough to know the corner Cas had ducked behind was actually a blind alley in a city not exactly known for them; he'd watched the alley entrance the entire time, waiting for his new brother-in-law to venture out.
When the call ended and nothing came out of the alley besides a could of pigeons Peter realized he should take the initiative and approach, very sure of what he would find.
What he did find was debris. Debris and a clear spot where Cas had been standing but nothing else, not even marks to indicate he'd climbed over the back wall.
He was going to owe Jones one hell of an apology when this was all over.
***
Mozzie paced the floor, checking the time every five seconds. Neal was taking a long time, especially without calling; Mozzie could only hope he was just busy dodging two legged hounds and not the other kind. He also hoped he was completely wrong about what was going on with Neal, but he knew the chances of that weren't good. He'd never been the type to engage in wishful thinking and, as much as he admired Neal and his many talents, this was exactly the kind of idiotic trouble only Neal Caffrey managed to find himself in.
When he heard Neal's knock at his door the relief almost took him off his feet. Mozzie took a second to make sure the the house was in order and to perfect his poker face before opening the door. The last thing he wanted was for Neal to run from him, too.
It had been about a week since Mozzie had seen Neal but when he opened the door he thought Neal looked five years older. "You don't look like someone enjoying his first day of freedom."
Neal brushed past him, throwing himself down into a chair. "Been a rough few days, Mozzie." He looked up, the circles under his eyes almost as dark as bruises. "You said you have the box?"
"Of course," he said, pointing to the small metal box inscribed with symbols along the edges. "You know the Bank of Mozzie guarantees all deposits." It had taken him almost a year to translate those sigils and when he'd finished all he'd wanted to do was throw the thing into the ocean. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"No," Neal said, raking one hand through his hair. "No, I'm not. I'm just hoping it works."
"So, where're you headed? I hear great things about Aruba."
"Better if you don't know, Mozzie. It's safer for everyone."
"Fair enough." Mozzie drummed his fingers on the table once, working hard to keep his voice even. "So I guess, all that's left is goodbye, good wishes and oh, by the way, did you sell your soul?"
Neal spun around to look at him and Mozzie had to admit, getting the drop on Neal like this was so satisfying. Neal plastered on of his perfect fake smiles. "C'mon, Mozzie, you know that sounds...."
"Don't you dare." Mozzie pointed to the box. "Did you think you could just give me that to hold and I wouldn't find out what it was? You don't exactly need that to hide from the feds."
"None of it can hurt anyone," Neal argued, thankfully deciding not to further insult Mozzie's intelligence with more lying. "It's all protective, just to help me hide." He slumped in the chair. "How long have you known?"
"That you're in over your head? Since the day we met. About this? This I wasn't sure about until earlier today when Elizabeth Burke showed up at my door, looking for you - and that woman is worried about you, Neal - with one of John Winchester's kids trying to figure out how to summon the demon in charge of crossroad deals. That was probably the biggest clue."
"El was here? I don't...how does she even know about any of this stuff?"
"Apparently she's from a hunter family, which, by the way, explains a lot about her terrible taste in men."
Neal sighed. "I told her not to worry."
"Well, apparently the idea of you being torn apart by hellhounds and in hell for all eternity is the kind of thing that just gets under her skin." Mozzie pulled up his own chair. "Why did you do something this stupid?"
Mozzie didn't know why he'd even asked the question. All of the really stupid things Neal did always had the same explanation. "Kate," Neal said, as if that was the total explanation.
"Tell me you didn't try to bring her back from the dead."
"No...well, no," Neal said, and that was an ominous little break. "This was a long time ago, back when we first fell in with Keller."
"Oh, and I'm so surprised to hear that name come up."
"It's not his fault this time." He looked up at Mozzie. "You remember that museum job? The Cassatt forgery?"
"I remember not being a fan of it, sure."
"Yeah, Kate neither. The forgery was actually the easy part, the tricky thing was getting it into the museum in the first place. That wing was under renovations, so it wasn't under heavy guard; I was going to do the switch and Kate was lookout." Mozzie saw his fingers clench. "She fell. The scaffolding gave way and she..." Mozzie gave him a drink and he downed it in one gulp. "She was in a coma and the doctors said she wasn't ever going to come out of it. It was my fault, Mozzie, if there was something I could do I had to do it."
"How did you even find out that was an option?"
Neal leaned back in the chair. "I met this thief in Boston. Kind of a fence for things that shouldn't exist. She said that the only advice she could give was to go out to a crossroads, and that if I was dumb enough to do it she would see me in hell some day."
"And you did it anyway."
"It was for Kate, Mozzie. The demon even made it so no one else remembered the fall happened."
"I'm surprised you didn't try to refinance after the whole mess with the plane."
Neal ran his tongue over his lips. "I did. It just didn't work."
Mozzie could only sigh. "Of course you did." Then he did some mental math and realized something wasn't adding up. "Wait, this doesn't make sense, you didn't even know Kate ten years ago. What kind of stupid deal did you make?"
Neal gave him a baffled, How do you know all this? look. It was kind of insulting, since it was Mozzie's business to know things. "That's the part I don't get, it was supposed to be ten years. Then four days ago this...I don't know, guy shows up and says there's been an 'adjustment' to the deal, that they were collecting early. It wasn't even the same demon I'd made the deal with. That's when I started hearing the hounds. I would've run then but Peter handed me this Winchester case and I couldn't."
Mozzie stood back up and leaned against the wall. He really, really hoped Neal would forgive him for this. "That enough?" he called out.
Neal jumped out of the chair when Peter strolled out of the back room. "I don't know how much of that I believe," he said, shaking his head, "but I guess so."
Neal gave Mozzie a poisonous glare. "Don't you even say a word, Neal. Think of this as a sign of just how much I don't want you in hell." Making that call to Peter had felt like making a crossroads deal himself.
Neal turned back to Peter. "I didn't want anyone else involved in this."
"El's involved."
"I didn't want that either."
Peter sighed. "Neal, when are you gonna figure out that you have people who can help you when you're in trouble?"
"You can't help me with this."
"Why not?" he said, getting into Neal's face. "Because you need help Neal, whether you want it or not. Now what're we doing? What's the first step?"
Neal let out an exaggerated sigh of surrender. "I need to make sure I have everything." He looked back and forth between Peter and Mozzie. "Is that allowed?"
Peter backed away and let Neal rifle through the box on the table. Mozzie couldn't help cringing when Peter leaned close to him. "When he gives me the slip," Peter said, knowing as well as Mozzie did every word of Neal's mouth had just been a lie, "where's he going to go?"
"Can't I have any principles left today?" Peter gave him a look and Mozzie knew he was caught. "Suit, you owe me."
***
Castiel arrived in an isolated corner of Central Park to find Dean and Elizabeth arrayed around a large, complicated devil's trap. He crouched next to it, examining the design; there were both summoning and binding rituals wound into the structure in a way he hadn't seen before. "Where did you find this design? It's very advanced."
"Caffrey has some weird friends," Dean said, shaking his head. When he walked over to Castiel, examining the black stains the hellhound's bloodspray had left down the front of his coat Castiel wished he'd thought to remove them. "Shit, Cas, another one?"
Elizabeth sent him an alarmed look, one he waved away. "It was nothing. And I performed a binding spell to spare Peter any further trouble on that front."
"He better save you a drumstick when Thanksgiving rolls around." Castiel had no idea how that connected to his previous statement but it didn't seem the time to ask; the power seeping from the devil's trap was already affecting the surrounding area, turning the warm day gray and cold. Dean paged through a slim volume of lore, frowning as he tried to find his place. "Okay, Cas, it says here this is a three person job. You stand at the top point there," he said, pointing across the trap, "and the two of us will make the base of the triangle. Man, I wish Sam was here, he's awesome at this shit."
Castiel took his appointed place, careful not to disrupt the lines of the trap. When Dean began the summoning a wind picked up, billowing his coat behind him; he could hear the whispers of the damned as the conduit to Hell snaked its way through the Earth and was intensely grateful Dean couldn't. The voices were soft and beckoning, whispers on the wind of a thousand crossroads and while he'd scrubbed the Pit's claim from Dean's soul he didn't think it above the demons to try to take back their stolen property. He felt the boundaries between dimensions begin to blur and buckle under the force of the ritual as the words reached down through layers of reality like a giant hand. The wind picked up, turning into a swirling vortex a swirling vortex centered on the trap. Dean finished the last words of the incantation and the energy exploded outward, forcing Castiel to raised one arm to protect his eyes. When the debris cleared there was a single figure standing in the center of the trap.
Castiel felt his lip curl when he recognized Crowley's familiar sneer. "Well, isn't this friendly," he said, looking from Castiel to Dean to Elizabeth. "Is this a party? Should I have worn my nice jacket?"
"Shut up, Crowley."
"You brought me here, Dean. And went to some considerable trouble," he said, looking at the trap with undisguised contempt. "I thought we'd wiped knowledge of this ritual right off the planet years ago."
"Yeah, demons suck at their job, what a surprise."
Castiel saw Elizabeth sigh. "Dean, that's not helping."
"You should listen to your lovely new acquaintance, and may I compliment you on improving the quality of your company." Castiel felt his hands ball into fists at the leer on Crowley's face, and the sideways glance Crowley sent his way told him the demon had noticed. "Now, I'm betting you didn't summon me away from my important business simply to bask in my magnificence. Let's get down to business, shall we?"
Elizabeth spoke first. "Hellhounds have been sent after the soul of Neal Caffrey. We want the name of the demon who holds his contract."
"Ah." Castiel saw interest creep into the demon's expression. "I was wondering when this would come up."
Castiel was surprised Dean had managed to maintain this much patience. "Look, are you gonna spill your guts here? Cause I'm really looking forward to an excuse to literally spill your guts for you."
"Charming as ever. In that case, my answer is no."
"You're gonna be in there a damned long time if you don't start talking."
"As much as I love being in your enchanting company, I'm not intentionally prolonging this ordeal. I won't tell you the name of the demon because I don't know it."
Castiel frowned. "All crossroad deals fall under your purview."
"And that is true. What's also true is that after Lilith's untimely demise we've undergone some...restructuring. Explored our options as it were."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that not very long ago we received a very attractive offer for that very contract. You know me. I can never resist a deal. Names just get in the way."
"Someone bought it? Who the hell would do that?"
"Oh, your two angel friends know the value of souls but that's the odd thing. Upon death the soul still comes back to me. Apparently just the contract was all our mystery friend wanted. Well that and a fair number of hellhounds."
It rankled Castiel that they were all letting Crowley play them like this. "Release him, Dean. If this is true he has nothing of value to tell us."
"You don't want me to leave before getting to my favorite part. Included in that lot were specifically the hellhounds who made Dean here our happy tenant for so many years."
Castiel saw the blind terror of that take over Dean for a moment. "That's a lie," he said. "Once a hellhound has been sent on a hunt it can't be used for future ones."
"Very true," Crowley said, and Castiel could tell he hadn't missed the impact of his words on Dean. "One hunt and all they're good for is breeding and barbeques. They never quite manage to lose that scent. I can't imagine why someone would want used ones." He stared down Dean as he spoke, an obscene smile on his face.
Elizabeth stepped forward and broke the line of the trap, releasing Crowley. In the blink of an eye he was gone, leaving his words to sink into them all like a poison. Dean was shaking when Castiel put one hand on his shoulder, startling like he hadn't noticed him approach. "What the fuck, Cas? Who's after me now?"
"It doesn't matter. They won't touch you."
"Dean, I had no idea you were part of this," Elizabeth said, but Dean shook his head.
"No. No, it's cool. We keep your boy Caffrey breathing, that's only good for me. Whoever's after him's gotta be the same douchebag after me, right? We gank the dick we solve two problems."
"What do you propose we do next?"
"Keep an eye on Caffrey. Draw the bastard out."
Castiel looked to Elizabeth. "There's an advanced locating ritual I could try. We should go somewhere quieter."
She nodded. "Let's go back to the apartment. And anyway, Peter might come back with news."
Castiel glanced at Dean, who squeezed his eyes shut at the idea of flying again but nodded his assent. He pressed his hand to Dean's forehead and spread his wings, already focusing on what he would need for the ritual.
The band of fire that wrapped around him threw him so off balance he staggered forward. "Cas? Cas, what's up?"
Castiel looked over at Elizabeth and saw she'd felt the same thing. "We're tethered," he spit out, looking around as the bindings seared around his wings. "Something's here."
Elizabeth took a step toward them and a ring of fire sprung up around her, close enough that she had to stumble back to avoid the flames. "Something's been watching us," he said, drawing his sword. The memory of falling into Lucifer's trap at Carthage pressed all around him.
The baying came from the south; Castiel made out four distinct creatures, coming in teams of two. He stationed himself in front of Dean; for a moment he debated telling him to run but Elizabeth was right. If he did kill these four more would just be sent.
And it wasn't as if Dean would listen to him. He heard the click of Dean's gun and shook his head. "That won't have any effect on them, Dean."
"So what's the plan?"
Castiel saw the first of them approach and raised his sword. "Stay behind me."
***
Elizabeth had never seen beyond Hell's gate, but if demons created personal hells the way Heaven crafted individual paradises she thought this would be hers. She got as close to the flames as she dared and watched Castiel prepare himself to fight off the first wave. She hadn't even smelled the oil. Dean was stubbornly stationed behind him, aiming his gun at the empty air with only the wide set of his eyes to betray the waking nightmare he'd found himself in. Elizabeth didn't catch what Dean said to her brother, but just from his body language she could see he had no intention of doing the wise thing and running for his life.
If they all survived this Elizabeth told herself she was locking the two of them in a room until they figured things out.
The first hellhound galloped by, tinted a strange silver color and slather dripping from its jaws as it bayed for Dean's blood. Castiel braced for the charge, skewering the creature through the chest; the impact drove him down to one knee but the hellhound let out a quick yelp, dead before it hit the ground. It dissolved into bile and caustic smoke, forcing Castiel to back up a step as he flicked the gore from his blade. The poison released by its packmate's death gave the second its chance; Elizabeth saw Castiel's sword go flying as he caught the hellhound's muzzle just before its jaws could snap around his neck.
Castiel's leverage was bad; he jerked his head back just in time to avoid being swiped by its claws. Dean called out, "Cas!" and took a step to the right. He fired two shots into what Elizabeth knew looked like empty space to him; while the bullets themselves had little effect getting shot surprised the hellhound enough for Castiel to wrestle it down and snap its neck in one smooth motion. She saw her brother's lips curl up; battle was prayer for the soldiers and each victory exaltation. She hoped with everything she had that their Father was listening.
The next two came much faster than either of them could have expected. One passed within an arm's length of the fire circle and Elizabeth lunged for it, reaching over the flames to drag it into the fire. For one horrible instant she thought it was too strong for her, that it was going to pull her out of the circle and through the deadly flames, but at the last second she set her jaw and took a step back. She ignored the hellhound's snapping jaws and took one more step back, then another. Finally she had it across the border and threw it into the flames. All she'd been hoping for was to break the circle but the creature shrieked, burning to a crisp in the space between heartbeats.
And then she understood.
She lifted her head to warn Castiel but saw it was too late; the hellhound was already in mid-bound. She saw his eyes cut toward his sword for a fraction of an instant and wondered if he would take that gamble. Castiel was fast, one of the fastest fliers in the garrison and if he went for his weapon she knew it would only leave Dean exposed for a half a second, perhaps less.
She felt the fear mix with pride when she saw him square his shoulders against the attack. If she'd had Peter standing behind her she knew that would be her choice, too.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and focused on using the hellhound's ashes to douse the flames. The sharp cry of pain a few seconds later washed through her like acid.
Elizabeth was done with her family being hurt. She was done.
-Back to Part 2-
-Back to Masterpost-
-On to Part 4-
Author: misachan
Artist: sgmajorshipper (Link to Art Master Post)
Crossover: Supernatural/White Collar
Word Count: 6004
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Peter/Elizabeth, Neal, Sam, Jones, Diana
Warnings: Hellhound-related violence, some language
Spoilers: Set S5 for SPN, S2 for White Collar
Summary: Dean knows they've had hunts go worse than this, but right now he's having trouble thinking of any. What should have been a simple haunted painting salt-and-burn gets sticky when the head of the theft ring they've conned their way into turns out to be on the FBI payroll. With Sam stuck in custody Dean calls in Castiel, hoping some angel mojo might lead to a quick escape and Cas quickly finds enough bubbling beneath the surface to attract his attention - like hellhounds prowling the halls of FBI headquarters. Sam also finds the day full of surprises: when Agent Burke starts the interrogation the only questions he has involve a thick file all about Sam and Dean, a fire in a Colorado police precinct and how Victor Hendrickson really died.
Neal knows he should have slipped his tracker and run off days ago, when he first heard the howls. Now he's scrambling to keep his old crossroads mistake from bringing everyone down with him, and it's not long before Peter, Dean, Sam, Cas, Jones and Diana all find themselves caught in the web, and Elizabeth finds herself with a choice: rejoin the family she's left behind or save the one she's built.
When hellhounds come baying for blood, even angels have nowhere to hide.
Dean hated when Castiel zapped him places; he didn't know what flying felt like to angels but Dean always felt like he'd been squeezed out through a tube like so much cake frosting. He opened his eyes and didn't see anything, which wasn't all that unusual (although only being able to see in black and white for a while was the more common fun side effect of taking angel airlines) but after few seconds Dean realized it really was just dark. His felt fabric brush his face and as his eyes adjusted he realized they were in some kind of closet; he took a breath to ask Cas what the hell when he felt Cas' hand clamp over his mouth. There was just enough light for him to see Castiel glare Quiet at him, and when Dean felt resentment start to build up he choked it down. He'd said he was with Castiel on this, and that meant following his lead, at least for now. Hunt first, bitch about how the hunt was handled later, Dean knew anything else tended to get people killed. He nodded and Castiel moved his hand away, just in time for them both to hear voices coming from the next room.
The closet was open just a crack and Dean crouched down, trying to get the best view he could; he saw Burke pacing in and out of his field of vision, grumbling into his cell phone and trying to knot his necktie one handed. When the call ended he pulled his arm back, like he was about to hurl the phone before thinking better of it, and Dean saw Elizabeth Burke walk up, take the phone and put it aside as she repaired the hash job he'd made on the tie. "You'll find him," she said.
"But why now? That's what I don't get, why run now?" Dean saw him shake his head. "He's been too quiet, I should have picked up on it...."
"You can ask him when you find him," she said, although Dean could tell by the tense way she held her shoulders that the optimistic tone was a lie. She planted a quick peck on his cheek as she finished straightening his suit jacket.
"I'm sorry I wasn't home longer," he said, kissing her back, and Dean rolled his eyes. If these two were this sappy all the time he didn't know how anyone put up with them.
Burke made to pull away and she handed him something Dean couldn't make out. "Don't forget this," she said. "Not that I want you to shoot Neal."
Dean saw Burke let out a rueful, I'm such an idiot breath as he holstered the weapon, then he felt Castiel shift beside him. "That was clever," he murmured, waving Dean away when Dean sent him a questioning look.
Dean just shook his head and went back to spying; Burke kissed Elizabeth one more time before rushing out, the phone back to his ear as he barked orders to whatever poor son of a bitch was on the other line. Elizabeth walked out of his field of vision, and it was only a few seconds later that he heard the door slam closed. Before he could say anything to Castiel about maybe they should get out of here he heard her voice. "It's safe now, you two."
Castiel just answered with a quizzical look when Dean glared at him, as if he couldn't imagine why Dean wouldn't know she could tell they were there the whole time, then Dean swung the door open. "Guess all angels are fuzzy around boundary issues," he grumbled, his mood not improved when they both ignored him. He stepped into a nice-decorated apartment that made him afraid to touch anything; he spotted Elizabeth leaning against the couch, rubbing her forehead, and when she looked up he saw gratitude mixed in with the worry.
"I didn't mean you had to come right now," she said, her lips tipping up into a tired smile.
"Yeah, well, don't tell Cas things if you don't want him to take it literally." He felt Castiel's eyes cut toward him and answered by narrowing his own; he'd promised Cas he'd help but that meant Dean was absolutely also going to tease the guy in front of his sister and there was nothing Castiel could do about it.
Castiel clearly decided to deal with Dean by ignoring him, turning away and studying Elizabeth. "He didn't forget his weapon," he said, a statement instead of a question.
She seemed to find the very idea of that hilarious. "Peter, just forget his gun? No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "If he wasn't running on five hours sleep over three days there's no way that would have worked.
"Can someone please fill in the only human in the room?"
Castiel glanced over at him. "Conventional weapons would do nothing against a hellhound," he said, as if Dean didn't already know that. When Dean didn't seem to be getting it Cas sighed. "They don't have to look like swords, Dean."
"Oh!" Dean said, looking back at Elizabeth. "That is pretty smart."
"Thank you," she said, running one hand through her hair. "I just wish that was all he needed. I keep picturing him finding Neal and them being there and Peter not seeing them coming...." Before she could even finish the sentence Castiel disappeared in a flutter of wings, blowing papers all over the room. She gave Dean an apologetic look. "I swear, I didn't mean for him to do that."
"I tell you, dude is fucking thrilled. He'd probably fly up to the moon if you said it was a good idea." He leaned against the arm of the sofa. "He Captain Literal up in Heaven, too?"
"He's very earnest, if that's what you mean," she said, still looking fondly at the empty space where Castiel had been. "Very quiet, too. And very smart, especially when he's underestimated." She pushed her hair out of her face as she looked at Dean. "Feel free to run for the hills now."
"Nah, I got the afternoon free. Gotta kill the time somehow." He crossed his arms, catching himself running his hands down hellhound scars he knew should be there. "Although if I did I take it Caffrey would have already beaten me to it."
"He has a tracking anklet, it only has a two mile range. I thought we could contain this, if we could know where he was I thought at least we'd know where they'd be...." She let out a long sigh. "Neal's very smart too. He's only been dark twenty minutes but that's plenty of time to get out of the city."
"Can't you use angel power to find him?"
She shook her head. "I tried a locating spell years ago, and it didn't work then. If Neal Caffrey doesn't want to be found he doesn't make it easy."
"When Cas gets back we can have him try. He's good at that, he tracked someone through time once."
Dean saw her expression darken. "Is it really as bad as he says?"
Dean hesitated for a second, then nodded. "If he's saying it's bad, I'd probably multiply it by ten. Guy's not exactly popular upstairs. Look at how happy he is to finally run into one of his sibs who doesn't want to stab him before saying hi."
"I've missed a lot." She drummed her fingers against the back of the sofa, giving Dean a sideways look. "Can I see it?" she said, the corner of her mouth tugging up.
Dean frowned until she gestured at her shoulder, then he just rolled his eyes as he pushed up his sleeve. "Angel chicks just can't get enough of the handprint," he groused, grinning so she knew he really wasn't upset. "How'd you even know it there, anyway?"
"Oh, sweetie, you broadcast," she said. "You might as well have Righteous Man flashing over your head whenever any of us look at you."
"Great," he said, fighting the urge to bury his head in his hands.
"This is sloppy for him," she said, clicking her tongue. "He must have been in a hurry."
"Any idea why he put a big handprint on my shoulder?"
"He never told you?" she said, looking up at him, and to be fair Dean knew he'd never asked. "He said he'd been wounded getting you out of hell and wanted to make sure that if he couldn't get you out himself whoever they sent next would be able to find you."
Dean didn't like the way that thought curdled in his stomach. "Cas never told me he got hurt dragging me out."
She just patted his other, unscarred shoulder. "The two of you were in Hell, not at a day spa. Of course he got hurt during all that."
"I don't remember anything about it. Him getting me, I mean. As far as I knew, one second I was in the Pit, the next I was clawing my way out of my own grave. Which was a totally dick thing to make me do, by the way."
"I doubt you having to do that occurred to him, really, especially if it wasn't an explicit part of the mission. Like you said, literal. Especially before meeting you," she said, smiling like she knew a private joke.
"I...I wasn't the one who hurt him, was I?" Dean asked, not sure why the thought had occurred to him. "I mean, down there I was...."
"I doubt it," she said, giving his shoulder another reassuring pat. "There's much nastier things down in the Pit than even Dean Winchester." She touched just the edge of the handprint and Dean flinched away, stifling a very un-macho giggle. "Did that hurt?"
"Nah." He was not blushing he was not blushing. "Just feels...I dunno. Weird."
"How about when he touches it?"
It took Dean a second to realize where he'd lost track of the conversation. "Beats me. How the hell would I know?" She just gave him another look, arching one eyebrow, baffling Dean as to what he was doing wrong. She didn't press, though, backing away and letting Dean roll back his sleeve. "So, you really think your husband can track down Caffrey?"
"He's done it before," she said. "If anyone can track down Neal, it's Peter."
"Yeah, well, I'm not big on sitting around waiting for hellhounds to attack someone."
"Neither am I." She tapped one manicured fingernail against her teeth. "There might be something we can do to find him. I don't know if it'll work, be we can try."
"You got something? Another spell?"
"Not quite. Peter took the car, so if we'll...."
"Aw, man, please not again. Cas zapped me twice already today, I can only take so much."
"I was going to say we'll have to take a cab. That okay?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sure. Where the hell are we going?"
***
Elizabeth knocked on the door, sending an anxious glance toward Dean and the handgun poorly concealed in his waistband. She'd debated with herself on the ride over whether it would be smarter to leave Dean outside but she finally decided that the time she'd have to spend convincing him to go along with that would be more time than they could spare. Not to mention how horrible she would feel leaving him alone, especially since Castiel was looking after Peter.
Besides, whether he was with her or not, this was either going to be the best idea she'd ever had or blow up spectacularly. As it stood she felt guilty enough imposing on a friendship this way, but she didn't have time to dwell on that before Mozzie opened the door. "Mrs. Suit!" he said, surprise and delight in his voice and Elizabeth felt her heart sink. If he really was surprised that meant he hadn't even heard about Neal. "Tell me this means you've finally decided to leave that oaf you married."
"Sorry to disappoint," she said, feeling her lips tug up at the familiar, good-natured sparring. "Mozzie, I need your help. It's about Neal. Can I please come in?"
"Of course," he said, opening the door wider. "Mi casa es su casa, you're always welcome." She walked in, cringing when Dean followed without saying a word. "You...and heavily armed stranger I've never met before," he said, giving her a sharp look. She mouthed I'm sorry to him as he turned to Dean. "And you are...?"
"Friend of the family," was all Dean said and it was all Elizabeth could do not to roll her eyes. If she ever was blessed enough to be in the presence of her Father she knew the only question she'd want to ask would be why He'd seen fit to make men with so much testosterone. And there was something angry in Dean's voice she didn't understand at all. "Where'd you get this book?"
"Excuse me, I didn't get that. Who are you, exactly?"
It wasn't until she noticed how Mozzie had put himself between herself and Dean that she realized what was going on. "Mozzie, no," she said, putting one hand on his arm. "He is, really. He just has very bad manners." Dean glared at her and she answered with one of her own before sighing. "Dean, this is my friend Mozzie, Mozzie, this is Dean Winchester."
To her surprise, Mozzie narrowed his eyes at the name, surprised instead of aggressive. "No relation to John Winchester, are you?"
Now it was Dean's turn to be surprised. "That's my dad's name, how the hell did you know that?"
Mozzie just let out a scoffing, pffff sound, clearly enjoying having one over Dean. "You wouldn't believe half the things I know." He nodded over to the bookshelf Dean was examining. "He's the one who gave me that book, I'll tell you that. Sort of a...mutual exchange of favors a while back."
Elizabeth didn't think she could have been more surprised if Mozzie had turned out to be yet another angel himself. "Are you a hunter?"
"Are you?" he said, both eyebrows shooting up.
"No," she replied, happy she could at least say that honestly. "Like Dean said, he's a friend of the family."
"Well, that answers a few questions," he muttered under his breath. "And no, I'm not. I like living too much. Still, the best way to keep living is to know how the world really works." He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he seemed to force himself to accept that Dean was standing there poking at his things. "You said this is about Neal?"
"He went dark, just a little while ago. Mozzie, do you have any idea where he might go?"
Elizabeth didn't think she'd ever seen Mozzie this surprised so many times in one day. "He didn't tell me he was cutting the cord."
"We think he's in real trouble and not the kind he can get out of by himself, no matter what he thinks." Since the moment Castiel said Neal had made a deal she'd been fighting back the image of him strapped to one of the racks she knew made up the Pit, had tried to stop hearing his voice begging for help as some demon gouged out his eyes and carved his face from his skull. It hit like being doused in ice water that Peter would find his body torn apart and she wouldn't even be able to lie that he was in a better place. "Mozzie, if he contacts you promise me you'll call. This is life and death. More than that."
"Hey. Sure," he said, alarm on his face. "C'mon, don't cry, okay? This is Neal, he'll be fine. He always is." She hadn't even realized she was crying; when she sniffled he handed her a handkerchief, barely hiding his panic. "Hey, you want some tea? I just made some. I'll get us some tea."
She nodded and he disappeared into the back room so quickly she almost could have thought he'd flown. "Dean, what do we do now? I was really hoping he would be here."
"We focus on the hounds if we can't figure the demon. Kill all of them."
"They'll just send more. You don't wipe out a debt by killing the debt collectors." She crossed her arms as she ran through their options. "If the hounds catch him I'll pull him out."
"Yeah, if it took all that time for Cas to grab me I don't think it's just that easy," Dean said, keeping his voice gentle. "And it'll blow your cover with the idiots upstairs. I say we summon Crowley and make him tell us who wound up with the contract. This is a crossroads thing, he has to know."
"Fine, we summon him. How do we make him tell us? With what leverage?" Dean just raised one eyebrow and Elizabeth was so appalled she took a step back. "No. Absolutely not."
"It's the only language they understand down there."
"Um." They both turned to see Mozzie standing a few feet away. "Not that I was eavesdropping," he said, handing Elizabeth a small mug of green tea, "but there is a ritual to summon a demon right onto a devil's trap."
Dean could only stare. "Bullshit."
"Sure, you caught me, I just made that up for no reason," Mozzie snapped. "Or maybe you don't know everything that exists, how about that?"
"Mozzie," Elizabeth said, getting between them. "Is that true? I've never heard anything like that either."
She could actually see him make the conscious decision to ignore Dean's existence. "There is a ritual that does that. It's actually in that book right there," he said, pointing to the book he said John Winchester had given him. "It only works on a single demon once, but why would anyone want to summon the same demon twice?"
Elizabeth threw her arms around him, remembering at the last second to temper her strength so she didn't pick him right up off the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Neal has no idea how lucky he is to have you as a friend."
"Hey...uh, thanks," he said, blushing bright red. "I want that book back when you're done with it."
"You have my word," she promised before Dean could chime in.
He glared for a second but then went back to paging through the slim manual. "It says here we have to do this outside."
"I know the spot," she said, tugging him out the door by one sleeve. "Let's go."
***
Mozzie stared at the closed door for a long, long second, absently rubbing his cheek where Elizabeth had kissed him. Well. That had all been unexpected.
He went into his back room, crouched in front of his bureau and opened the third drawer on the left. When it was just slightly over halfway out he reached underneath and found the pressure plate that popped the hidden drawer underneath. He tapped open the false bottom on that (because really, who hides something valuable in the first secret drawer?) and pulled out the cell phone he kept for just such emergencies. Well, maybe not exactly this kind of emergency, this was exactly the kind of thing he tried hard to stay out of, but emergencies nonetheless. It didn't matter how hard Neal was running, Mozzie knew he would pick up if he saw the call was from this phone.
And sure enough, after two rings there was Neal's voice. "Hey, Mozzie, what's on fire?"
Apparently you very soon. "So, rumor has it your conscience finally caught up with you and you're making a long overdue bid for freedom."
Oh, that was much too nervous to be Neal Caffrey's laugh. "Yeah, guess you could say that."
"And were you going to be telling me about this any time?"
"Would you believe I was just about to call?" And no, Mozzie didn't believe that but he absolutely believed Neal was about to ask him for a favor. "Mozzie, you remember that box I gave you a while back? The one I said I hoped I would never have to ask for again?"
"Of course. And before you ask, of course I have it."
Mozzie thought that if Neal's sigh of relief wasn't the longest ever uttered in the history of man, it was at least a close second. "Good. I'm headed over there now."
"So, what tropical island are we retiring to?"
"Sorry, buddy. I have to fly solo on this one."
That was really the only confirmation Mozzie needed. "Well, get over here so we can say our overwrought goodbyes."
Neal actually laughed at that before hanging up. Mozzie stared at the blinking number on his phone for a long, long time, terror tying him into uncomfortable knots. Then he took a deep breath and dialed the phone again. Too much to do and too little time.
***
Castiel skulked around the corner, turning up his hearing to make out the conversation Peter was engaged in on his phone. "---telling you, Peter, the guy's gone. He's a ghost."
"How did that happen? I thought we had people on the doors."
"We still have people on the doors. That's what I'm saying, that's not how he left."
Castiel heard Peter let out a long sigh. "Walk me through this, Jones. What happened?"
"Wish I knew. Last I knew he was in the commissary, I had eyes on him myself, then I blinked and he was gone."
"What about his brother?"
"He's still in lock up. If this guy did take off running, he left his brother behind."
Castiel saw Peter shake his head. "That doesn't match the history. He'll be back for Sam, you can count on that. We just have to wait it out." Castiel had to admire how well this stranger could read Dean without having met him. It was a rare tactical skill and helped him understand what his sister saw in the man.
"Winchester was talking to someone, someone no one could ID. White guy, dark hair, wearing a suit and a trenchcoat."
Castiel saw Peter pull up short and winced. "Oh yeah? When?"
"A little bit before Caffrey went dark, maybe an hour or so ago."
"Couldn't be, then." He glanced behind and Castiel flattened himself against the wall; that was the second time Burke had almost spotted him. "Keep eyes on Sam. The brother will show up, hopefully the mystery accomplice too. Any luck with Neal?"
"I wish. We've got spotters on his usual haunts but nothing yet."
"Good job. Keep at it, I'll be there soon, I just have a lead of my own I'm working on."
"You do find Caffrey, kick his ass for the rest of us, okay?"
"You got it."
Castiel was so absorbed in his eavesdropping he didn't hear the growling until it was almost too late. He leapt forward as the creature sprinted past him, tackling it to the ground and dragging it back around the corner. It was the same strange color as the one he'd killed at FBI Headquarters, complete with the same unexpected strength; it managed to snap at his throat once before Castiel wrestled it back to the ground.
He could not remember the last time he was this angry. "Why are you attacking that human?" he hissed, holding it down. "He is not your quarry." The beast's acidic tongue lolled out of his mouth as it panted, trying to get away. And just like before it refused to answer him. Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Fine then." He took a deep breath, marshaling Grace and focusing it in his hands. "I bind you to my will."
The backlash when he touched the creature's flank caught him off guard; hellhounds as a rule weren't strong willed creatures but he supposed he should have expected that to be proven untrue by this strange breed like everything else. He was just relieved he managed to keep enough focus to avoid losing the spell; he drew the sigil on the beast's skin, thankfully a simple one, and indulged in a sneer when the thing whined as the mark burned in. "None of your pack are to harm Peter Burke," he murmured, pronouncing the Enochian in a slow chant, feeling the rush of Grace as he expanded the mark to all the hellhounds keening for Caffrey's blood. He couldn't call off the hunt, nothing but the demon that held the leash could do that, but he could at least manage this. "You shall not spill his blood nor taste his flesh nor break his skin," the chanted, the ancient words of the ritual propping him up. "To this and these words I bind thee and all thine." He drew his sword and slit the beast's throat, and not a moment to soon; in the instant between the final syllable and his drawing the blade he felt enough Grace rush out that he doubled over in pain. If he'd waited even another second he creature would have been free and would have been in great deal of trouble.
He curled up against the wall of the alley as the hellhound dissolved into so much bile and fought to catch his breath; he'd never been this winded by a binding spell before but these creatures were strong and he'd returned from death a shell of what he'd been. Considering that he couldn't even slay demons anymore he supposed he should be grateful he could at least still bind them.
It took a few painful seconds for his vision to clear; he realized his phone was ringing and wondered how long that had been happening. It took two tries to fish the device out of his pocket. "What is it?"
"Cas?" Dean said, clear alarm in his voice. Castiel knew he must truly sound terrible if just three words had made Dean so concerned so quickly. "You okay? Why're you out of breath? "
"I had something important to do."
"How's your brother-in-law?"
It took a moment for Castiel to remember what that phrase meant. "You can tell Elizabeth he no long needs to fear the hounds."
"Hey, great, just what I wanted to hear. We're about to do a summoning and we could use the extra mojo."
Castiel nodded, forgetting that Dean couldn't see it. "I'll be there." He glanced back around the corner once, watching Burke talk to someone else on his phone. Then, confident he was safe, Castiel reached out for his sister's Grace and flew toward it.
***
Peter ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He hated when important calls had inconvenient timing; as glad as he was to have taken that he wished it had been five minutes later.
Maybe Elizabeth's long lost brother wasn't Dean Winchester's accomplice, the timing for that didn't seem to match at all, but Peter was absolutely sure this Cas had been following him since he left the house. It was half the reason he'd gotten out of the car in the first place; after spotting him three times in twenty minutes Peter had wanted to make sure he was actually being followed and not just having stress-and-insomnia based delusions.
Fortunately, only one of them knew New York well enough to know the corner Cas had ducked behind was actually a blind alley in a city not exactly known for them; he'd watched the alley entrance the entire time, waiting for his new brother-in-law to venture out.
When the call ended and nothing came out of the alley besides a could of pigeons Peter realized he should take the initiative and approach, very sure of what he would find.
What he did find was debris. Debris and a clear spot where Cas had been standing but nothing else, not even marks to indicate he'd climbed over the back wall.
He was going to owe Jones one hell of an apology when this was all over.
***
Mozzie paced the floor, checking the time every five seconds. Neal was taking a long time, especially without calling; Mozzie could only hope he was just busy dodging two legged hounds and not the other kind. He also hoped he was completely wrong about what was going on with Neal, but he knew the chances of that weren't good. He'd never been the type to engage in wishful thinking and, as much as he admired Neal and his many talents, this was exactly the kind of idiotic trouble only Neal Caffrey managed to find himself in.
When he heard Neal's knock at his door the relief almost took him off his feet. Mozzie took a second to make sure the the house was in order and to perfect his poker face before opening the door. The last thing he wanted was for Neal to run from him, too.
It had been about a week since Mozzie had seen Neal but when he opened the door he thought Neal looked five years older. "You don't look like someone enjoying his first day of freedom."
Neal brushed past him, throwing himself down into a chair. "Been a rough few days, Mozzie." He looked up, the circles under his eyes almost as dark as bruises. "You said you have the box?"
"Of course," he said, pointing to the small metal box inscribed with symbols along the edges. "You know the Bank of Mozzie guarantees all deposits." It had taken him almost a year to translate those sigils and when he'd finished all he'd wanted to do was throw the thing into the ocean. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"No," Neal said, raking one hand through his hair. "No, I'm not. I'm just hoping it works."
"So, where're you headed? I hear great things about Aruba."
"Better if you don't know, Mozzie. It's safer for everyone."
"Fair enough." Mozzie drummed his fingers on the table once, working hard to keep his voice even. "So I guess, all that's left is goodbye, good wishes and oh, by the way, did you sell your soul?"
Neal spun around to look at him and Mozzie had to admit, getting the drop on Neal like this was so satisfying. Neal plastered on of his perfect fake smiles. "C'mon, Mozzie, you know that sounds...."
"Don't you dare." Mozzie pointed to the box. "Did you think you could just give me that to hold and I wouldn't find out what it was? You don't exactly need that to hide from the feds."
"None of it can hurt anyone," Neal argued, thankfully deciding not to further insult Mozzie's intelligence with more lying. "It's all protective, just to help me hide." He slumped in the chair. "How long have you known?"
"That you're in over your head? Since the day we met. About this? This I wasn't sure about until earlier today when Elizabeth Burke showed up at my door, looking for you - and that woman is worried about you, Neal - with one of John Winchester's kids trying to figure out how to summon the demon in charge of crossroad deals. That was probably the biggest clue."
"El was here? I don't...how does she even know about any of this stuff?"
"Apparently she's from a hunter family, which, by the way, explains a lot about her terrible taste in men."
Neal sighed. "I told her not to worry."
"Well, apparently the idea of you being torn apart by hellhounds and in hell for all eternity is the kind of thing that just gets under her skin." Mozzie pulled up his own chair. "Why did you do something this stupid?"
Mozzie didn't know why he'd even asked the question. All of the really stupid things Neal did always had the same explanation. "Kate," Neal said, as if that was the total explanation.
"Tell me you didn't try to bring her back from the dead."
"No...well, no," Neal said, and that was an ominous little break. "This was a long time ago, back when we first fell in with Keller."
"Oh, and I'm so surprised to hear that name come up."
"It's not his fault this time." He looked up at Mozzie. "You remember that museum job? The Cassatt forgery?"
"I remember not being a fan of it, sure."
"Yeah, Kate neither. The forgery was actually the easy part, the tricky thing was getting it into the museum in the first place. That wing was under renovations, so it wasn't under heavy guard; I was going to do the switch and Kate was lookout." Mozzie saw his fingers clench. "She fell. The scaffolding gave way and she..." Mozzie gave him a drink and he downed it in one gulp. "She was in a coma and the doctors said she wasn't ever going to come out of it. It was my fault, Mozzie, if there was something I could do I had to do it."
"How did you even find out that was an option?"
Neal leaned back in the chair. "I met this thief in Boston. Kind of a fence for things that shouldn't exist. She said that the only advice she could give was to go out to a crossroads, and that if I was dumb enough to do it she would see me in hell some day."
"And you did it anyway."
"It was for Kate, Mozzie. The demon even made it so no one else remembered the fall happened."
"I'm surprised you didn't try to refinance after the whole mess with the plane."
Neal ran his tongue over his lips. "I did. It just didn't work."
Mozzie could only sigh. "Of course you did." Then he did some mental math and realized something wasn't adding up. "Wait, this doesn't make sense, you didn't even know Kate ten years ago. What kind of stupid deal did you make?"
Neal gave him a baffled, How do you know all this? look. It was kind of insulting, since it was Mozzie's business to know things. "That's the part I don't get, it was supposed to be ten years. Then four days ago this...I don't know, guy shows up and says there's been an 'adjustment' to the deal, that they were collecting early. It wasn't even the same demon I'd made the deal with. That's when I started hearing the hounds. I would've run then but Peter handed me this Winchester case and I couldn't."
Mozzie stood back up and leaned against the wall. He really, really hoped Neal would forgive him for this. "That enough?" he called out.
Neal jumped out of the chair when Peter strolled out of the back room. "I don't know how much of that I believe," he said, shaking his head, "but I guess so."
Neal gave Mozzie a poisonous glare. "Don't you even say a word, Neal. Think of this as a sign of just how much I don't want you in hell." Making that call to Peter had felt like making a crossroads deal himself.
Neal turned back to Peter. "I didn't want anyone else involved in this."
"El's involved."
"I didn't want that either."
Peter sighed. "Neal, when are you gonna figure out that you have people who can help you when you're in trouble?"
"You can't help me with this."
"Why not?" he said, getting into Neal's face. "Because you need help Neal, whether you want it or not. Now what're we doing? What's the first step?"
Neal let out an exaggerated sigh of surrender. "I need to make sure I have everything." He looked back and forth between Peter and Mozzie. "Is that allowed?"
Peter backed away and let Neal rifle through the box on the table. Mozzie couldn't help cringing when Peter leaned close to him. "When he gives me the slip," Peter said, knowing as well as Mozzie did every word of Neal's mouth had just been a lie, "where's he going to go?"
"Can't I have any principles left today?" Peter gave him a look and Mozzie knew he was caught. "Suit, you owe me."
***
Castiel arrived in an isolated corner of Central Park to find Dean and Elizabeth arrayed around a large, complicated devil's trap. He crouched next to it, examining the design; there were both summoning and binding rituals wound into the structure in a way he hadn't seen before. "Where did you find this design? It's very advanced."
"Caffrey has some weird friends," Dean said, shaking his head. When he walked over to Castiel, examining the black stains the hellhound's bloodspray had left down the front of his coat Castiel wished he'd thought to remove them. "Shit, Cas, another one?"
Elizabeth sent him an alarmed look, one he waved away. "It was nothing. And I performed a binding spell to spare Peter any further trouble on that front."
"He better save you a drumstick when Thanksgiving rolls around." Castiel had no idea how that connected to his previous statement but it didn't seem the time to ask; the power seeping from the devil's trap was already affecting the surrounding area, turning the warm day gray and cold. Dean paged through a slim volume of lore, frowning as he tried to find his place. "Okay, Cas, it says here this is a three person job. You stand at the top point there," he said, pointing across the trap, "and the two of us will make the base of the triangle. Man, I wish Sam was here, he's awesome at this shit."
Castiel took his appointed place, careful not to disrupt the lines of the trap. When Dean began the summoning a wind picked up, billowing his coat behind him; he could hear the whispers of the damned as the conduit to Hell snaked its way through the Earth and was intensely grateful Dean couldn't. The voices were soft and beckoning, whispers on the wind of a thousand crossroads and while he'd scrubbed the Pit's claim from Dean's soul he didn't think it above the demons to try to take back their stolen property. He felt the boundaries between dimensions begin to blur and buckle under the force of the ritual as the words reached down through layers of reality like a giant hand. The wind picked up, turning into a swirling vortex a swirling vortex centered on the trap. Dean finished the last words of the incantation and the energy exploded outward, forcing Castiel to raised one arm to protect his eyes. When the debris cleared there was a single figure standing in the center of the trap.
Castiel felt his lip curl when he recognized Crowley's familiar sneer. "Well, isn't this friendly," he said, looking from Castiel to Dean to Elizabeth. "Is this a party? Should I have worn my nice jacket?"
"Shut up, Crowley."
"You brought me here, Dean. And went to some considerable trouble," he said, looking at the trap with undisguised contempt. "I thought we'd wiped knowledge of this ritual right off the planet years ago."
"Yeah, demons suck at their job, what a surprise."
Castiel saw Elizabeth sigh. "Dean, that's not helping."
"You should listen to your lovely new acquaintance, and may I compliment you on improving the quality of your company." Castiel felt his hands ball into fists at the leer on Crowley's face, and the sideways glance Crowley sent his way told him the demon had noticed. "Now, I'm betting you didn't summon me away from my important business simply to bask in my magnificence. Let's get down to business, shall we?"
Elizabeth spoke first. "Hellhounds have been sent after the soul of Neal Caffrey. We want the name of the demon who holds his contract."
"Ah." Castiel saw interest creep into the demon's expression. "I was wondering when this would come up."
Castiel was surprised Dean had managed to maintain this much patience. "Look, are you gonna spill your guts here? Cause I'm really looking forward to an excuse to literally spill your guts for you."
"Charming as ever. In that case, my answer is no."
"You're gonna be in there a damned long time if you don't start talking."
"As much as I love being in your enchanting company, I'm not intentionally prolonging this ordeal. I won't tell you the name of the demon because I don't know it."
Castiel frowned. "All crossroad deals fall under your purview."
"And that is true. What's also true is that after Lilith's untimely demise we've undergone some...restructuring. Explored our options as it were."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that not very long ago we received a very attractive offer for that very contract. You know me. I can never resist a deal. Names just get in the way."
"Someone bought it? Who the hell would do that?"
"Oh, your two angel friends know the value of souls but that's the odd thing. Upon death the soul still comes back to me. Apparently just the contract was all our mystery friend wanted. Well that and a fair number of hellhounds."
It rankled Castiel that they were all letting Crowley play them like this. "Release him, Dean. If this is true he has nothing of value to tell us."
"You don't want me to leave before getting to my favorite part. Included in that lot were specifically the hellhounds who made Dean here our happy tenant for so many years."
Castiel saw the blind terror of that take over Dean for a moment. "That's a lie," he said. "Once a hellhound has been sent on a hunt it can't be used for future ones."
"Very true," Crowley said, and Castiel could tell he hadn't missed the impact of his words on Dean. "One hunt and all they're good for is breeding and barbeques. They never quite manage to lose that scent. I can't imagine why someone would want used ones." He stared down Dean as he spoke, an obscene smile on his face.
Elizabeth stepped forward and broke the line of the trap, releasing Crowley. In the blink of an eye he was gone, leaving his words to sink into them all like a poison. Dean was shaking when Castiel put one hand on his shoulder, startling like he hadn't noticed him approach. "What the fuck, Cas? Who's after me now?"
"It doesn't matter. They won't touch you."
"Dean, I had no idea you were part of this," Elizabeth said, but Dean shook his head.
"No. No, it's cool. We keep your boy Caffrey breathing, that's only good for me. Whoever's after him's gotta be the same douchebag after me, right? We gank the dick we solve two problems."
"What do you propose we do next?"
"Keep an eye on Caffrey. Draw the bastard out."
Castiel looked to Elizabeth. "There's an advanced locating ritual I could try. We should go somewhere quieter."
She nodded. "Let's go back to the apartment. And anyway, Peter might come back with news."
Castiel glanced at Dean, who squeezed his eyes shut at the idea of flying again but nodded his assent. He pressed his hand to Dean's forehead and spread his wings, already focusing on what he would need for the ritual.
The band of fire that wrapped around him threw him so off balance he staggered forward. "Cas? Cas, what's up?"
Castiel looked over at Elizabeth and saw she'd felt the same thing. "We're tethered," he spit out, looking around as the bindings seared around his wings. "Something's here."
Elizabeth took a step toward them and a ring of fire sprung up around her, close enough that she had to stumble back to avoid the flames. "Something's been watching us," he said, drawing his sword. The memory of falling into Lucifer's trap at Carthage pressed all around him.
The baying came from the south; Castiel made out four distinct creatures, coming in teams of two. He stationed himself in front of Dean; for a moment he debated telling him to run but Elizabeth was right. If he did kill these four more would just be sent.
And it wasn't as if Dean would listen to him. He heard the click of Dean's gun and shook his head. "That won't have any effect on them, Dean."
"So what's the plan?"
Castiel saw the first of them approach and raised his sword. "Stay behind me."
***
Elizabeth had never seen beyond Hell's gate, but if demons created personal hells the way Heaven crafted individual paradises she thought this would be hers. She got as close to the flames as she dared and watched Castiel prepare himself to fight off the first wave. She hadn't even smelled the oil. Dean was stubbornly stationed behind him, aiming his gun at the empty air with only the wide set of his eyes to betray the waking nightmare he'd found himself in. Elizabeth didn't catch what Dean said to her brother, but just from his body language she could see he had no intention of doing the wise thing and running for his life.
If they all survived this Elizabeth told herself she was locking the two of them in a room until they figured things out.
The first hellhound galloped by, tinted a strange silver color and slather dripping from its jaws as it bayed for Dean's blood. Castiel braced for the charge, skewering the creature through the chest; the impact drove him down to one knee but the hellhound let out a quick yelp, dead before it hit the ground. It dissolved into bile and caustic smoke, forcing Castiel to back up a step as he flicked the gore from his blade. The poison released by its packmate's death gave the second its chance; Elizabeth saw Castiel's sword go flying as he caught the hellhound's muzzle just before its jaws could snap around his neck.
Castiel's leverage was bad; he jerked his head back just in time to avoid being swiped by its claws. Dean called out, "Cas!" and took a step to the right. He fired two shots into what Elizabeth knew looked like empty space to him; while the bullets themselves had little effect getting shot surprised the hellhound enough for Castiel to wrestle it down and snap its neck in one smooth motion. She saw her brother's lips curl up; battle was prayer for the soldiers and each victory exaltation. She hoped with everything she had that their Father was listening.
The next two came much faster than either of them could have expected. One passed within an arm's length of the fire circle and Elizabeth lunged for it, reaching over the flames to drag it into the fire. For one horrible instant she thought it was too strong for her, that it was going to pull her out of the circle and through the deadly flames, but at the last second she set her jaw and took a step back. She ignored the hellhound's snapping jaws and took one more step back, then another. Finally she had it across the border and threw it into the flames. All she'd been hoping for was to break the circle but the creature shrieked, burning to a crisp in the space between heartbeats.
And then she understood.
She lifted her head to warn Castiel but saw it was too late; the hellhound was already in mid-bound. She saw his eyes cut toward his sword for a fraction of an instant and wondered if he would take that gamble. Castiel was fast, one of the fastest fliers in the garrison and if he went for his weapon she knew it would only leave Dean exposed for a half a second, perhaps less.
She felt the fear mix with pride when she saw him square his shoulders against the attack. If she'd had Peter standing behind her she knew that would be her choice, too.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and focused on using the hellhound's ashes to douse the flames. The sharp cry of pain a few seconds later washed through her like acid.
Elizabeth was done with her family being hurt. She was done.
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