Supernatural fic - "Saving Grace" (Part Nine)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
Turned out the angel they were dealing with was someone called Remiel, and he was a colossal asshat. The whole ten-gallon variety hat of assiness.
That was what Dean was thinking, anyway, as he stood between Bobby and Sam in the middle of a field, staring down the assmunch himself. Remiel was crammed into a bruiser of a vessel… dude must have been a bouncer before he was ribbed for Remiel’s pleasure.
They had been in an abandoned apartment just a moment ago, where they’d been waiting for Remiel to show up (having gone to some pains to make sure the angel would put in an appearance). Dean’s hair suddenly stood on end, his early angel warning system kicking into gear, but this time instead of a warm tingling his chest, he felt a cold fist squeeze at his insides. Then there he was, the dicklick himself, looking smug as he whisked the three hunters into the middle of nowhere.
“What the…” Bobby said in surprise as he tried to orient himself to their new location.
“That’s better,” Remiel said smugly. “Can’t have you boys setting up banishing sigils for me, now can we?”
Which was exactly what they’d done in the apartment before Remiel showed up. What a distrustful bastard.
So the three good guys and one seriously more powerful bad guy finally got a really decent chance to size each other up.
Remiel’s bulldog of a face twisted into a puzzled frown and he looked harder at the three hunters. His eyes settled on Dean and the confusion lifted into surprise. The kind of surprise a cat felt on sighting a wounded bird.
Shit.
“Now, this is interesting. Raphael will definitely want to hear about this.” Remiel moved closer, heading straight for Dean. Bobby tensed and Sam looked like he wanted a go at tearing an angel apart with his bare hands, but Dean stood his ground and kept his mouth shut.
Remiel stopped right in front of Dean, looked him up and down like a piece of meat, then smirked. “So, how long’s this been going on, Dean? Let me guess… two months? Yes, that’s about right. Castiel’s been different since then… a much bigger nuisance to Raphael’s plans.”
“Right,” Dean snarled, “the brilliant plan to restart the countdown to the Apocalypse.”
“Hmmm,” Remiel mused, like they were discussing stock tips. “I’d think you would be all for the Apocalypse getting back underway.”
“And why would you think that?” With Remiel standing so close, Dean’s insides felt like a nest of snakes, twisting nauseatingly.
Remiel shrugged. “Gates to Hell blown open, Lucifer out of his cage… you know what else will escape the cage, too?” He slid a look over at Sam. “Little darling Sammy’s darling little soul. That is what you want, right?”
“And what good is getting my soul back if there’s no world left?” Sam countered.
“Picky, picky,” Remiel sing-songed. He leaned in closer to Dean.
Dean’s chest burned and heaved. “Dude,” Dean groused with a wince, “you are a seriously bad case of acid reflux.”
Remiel smiled. “For such a transcendental experience, you describe it in a disgustingly human way.”
Dean could see Bobby and Sam both inching away from him, trying to sneak unnoticed to either side of the angel. He knew what they were doing and played his part.
“I could say the same about you jackholes… for angels, this is some damn human behavior. Betrayal, fighting each other, trashing the house while dad’s gone… admit it, Remy, you and your pals up there are just as bad as the mud monkeys.”
Predictably, Remiel flared. “How dare you compare us to you, you simpering, festering sore on the face of my Father’s beautiful creation.” The angel’s anger shifted to condescension, and just like that he looked more snide than wrathful. It was hard to say which one made him look uglier. “But I guess you’d know a thing or two about angels, wouldn’t you, Dean? Does it feel good having Castiel inside you? Do you get off on it?”
Dean could see Sam falter from the corner of his eye.
The abrupt change in motion caught Remiel’s attention, too. He shot a look over at Sam, who had a lighter in hand.
“Bobby!” Dean yelled.
Bobby, who was standing on the other side of the angel with a bottle of holy oil ready to throw.
Before Bobby’s arm could let fly the liquid, Remiel opened his mouth.
“Pitiful humans, you would dare to threaten me with your tricks!? I will destroy you all for this impudence! Raphael’s will shall reign in Heaven and on Earth and you will suffer!” His words seemed to wrap up the sky.
It was a pretty unimpressive decree, as far as bad guy monologues went, but Dean stopped paying attention to the words pretty damn quick when Bobby and Sam both dropped the things they were holding to cover their ears with their hands.
Dean watched, stupefied, as Bobby and Sam both fell to their knees in agony. Blood trickled from between their fingers as they writhed on the ground.
While Dean stood there dumbly, watching his brother and friend suffer while Dean himself didn’t feel so much as a tickle.
Without thinking, Dean’s mind cried, ‘Cas! Getting our asses handed to us by Remiel down here! Could use some help!’ The thought flew through his brain like a knee-jerk reaction, automatic and instantaneous.
Before Dean could process what was going on, there was a bright burst of yes! in his chest, a flutter of air, and suddenly Castiel was standing behind Remiel looking decidedly smiteful.
Dean moved at once. He dove for the dropped bottle of holy oil by Bobby, just as Remiel sensed Castiel behind him.
In one fast motion, Dean leapt up with the bottle and upended the thing into Remiel’s open mouth.
Castiel rushed up behind Remiel in the next split second, clamped his hand over the other angel’s mouth to keep him from spitting out the oil, and bellowed, “Close your eyes!”
Dean leapt back. Sam and Bobby, still cradling their heads between blood-streaked hands, clenched their eyes shut.
Dean knew he should have, but he didn’t. He stepped back and watched, wide-eyed, as Castiel snaked his free hand around to touch Remiel’s throat and used his power to ignite the holy oil inside the dickhead.
Remiel seized and his body went rigid. Castiel let him go and moved a step away. Remiel’s eyes burned bright with angelic light, he threw his head back, and suddenly there was light. Light, brighter than anything Dean had ever seen. He’d never imagined a light so bright. It flared for half a second like twenty thousand suns… he felt it tingle on his skin like a summer’s sun, only this light went deeper. It touched Castiel’s grace in his chest and made Dean flinch and bring a hand to his sternum.
Then the light changed, grew and took up half the sky. Inside its immensity were colors, prisms and threads of every color in the spectrum and then some.
And then, for just the briefest instant, Dean imagined he saw a figure. Features. He saw an angel.
Then the light was gone with a blast and Remiel’s vessel fell to the ground, burned to a crisp.
Dean blinked, dazed and in a stupor. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. He stared agape at Castiel a few feet away. The angel was looking back at Dean with a look of equal surprise on his face. Dean knew that by all rights he shouldn’t see anything at all. His eyes should be black holes in his head.
No telling how long Dean might have stood there staring in open wonder at Castiel if Sam hadn’t struggled to his feet. He was so not happy. “What… the… fuck!” he barked, practically yelling.
“You couldn’t have gotten here just a little sooner?” Bobby asked testily as he fought his way back to his feet. He was talking too loud, couldn’t hear himself and how loud he was being after his eardrums had taken an angelic beating. The sides of his head were streaked with blood, just like Sam’s. The two of them scowled at Castiel for not sparing them that pain, then they looked in unison at Dean… standing there unbloodied.
So not getting into that right then.
Dean looked straight at Cas, offered a lopsided smile, and said, “Nice of you to drop by.”
The surprised look on Castiel’s face was masterfully replaced by his typical deadpan expression… except for a very tiny smile in return as he nodded back at Dean.
Part Ten
Turned out the angel they were dealing with was someone called Remiel, and he was a colossal asshat. The whole ten-gallon variety hat of assiness.
That was what Dean was thinking, anyway, as he stood between Bobby and Sam in the middle of a field, staring down the assmunch himself. Remiel was crammed into a bruiser of a vessel… dude must have been a bouncer before he was ribbed for Remiel’s pleasure.
They had been in an abandoned apartment just a moment ago, where they’d been waiting for Remiel to show up (having gone to some pains to make sure the angel would put in an appearance). Dean’s hair suddenly stood on end, his early angel warning system kicking into gear, but this time instead of a warm tingling his chest, he felt a cold fist squeeze at his insides. Then there he was, the dicklick himself, looking smug as he whisked the three hunters into the middle of nowhere.
“What the…” Bobby said in surprise as he tried to orient himself to their new location.
“That’s better,” Remiel said smugly. “Can’t have you boys setting up banishing sigils for me, now can we?”
Which was exactly what they’d done in the apartment before Remiel showed up. What a distrustful bastard.
So the three good guys and one seriously more powerful bad guy finally got a really decent chance to size each other up.
Remiel’s bulldog of a face twisted into a puzzled frown and he looked harder at the three hunters. His eyes settled on Dean and the confusion lifted into surprise. The kind of surprise a cat felt on sighting a wounded bird.
Shit.
“Now, this is interesting. Raphael will definitely want to hear about this.” Remiel moved closer, heading straight for Dean. Bobby tensed and Sam looked like he wanted a go at tearing an angel apart with his bare hands, but Dean stood his ground and kept his mouth shut.
Remiel stopped right in front of Dean, looked him up and down like a piece of meat, then smirked. “So, how long’s this been going on, Dean? Let me guess… two months? Yes, that’s about right. Castiel’s been different since then… a much bigger nuisance to Raphael’s plans.”
“Right,” Dean snarled, “the brilliant plan to restart the countdown to the Apocalypse.”
“Hmmm,” Remiel mused, like they were discussing stock tips. “I’d think you would be all for the Apocalypse getting back underway.”
“And why would you think that?” With Remiel standing so close, Dean’s insides felt like a nest of snakes, twisting nauseatingly.
Remiel shrugged. “Gates to Hell blown open, Lucifer out of his cage… you know what else will escape the cage, too?” He slid a look over at Sam. “Little darling Sammy’s darling little soul. That is what you want, right?”
“And what good is getting my soul back if there’s no world left?” Sam countered.
“Picky, picky,” Remiel sing-songed. He leaned in closer to Dean.
Dean’s chest burned and heaved. “Dude,” Dean groused with a wince, “you are a seriously bad case of acid reflux.”
Remiel smiled. “For such a transcendental experience, you describe it in a disgustingly human way.”
Dean could see Bobby and Sam both inching away from him, trying to sneak unnoticed to either side of the angel. He knew what they were doing and played his part.
“I could say the same about you jackholes… for angels, this is some damn human behavior. Betrayal, fighting each other, trashing the house while dad’s gone… admit it, Remy, you and your pals up there are just as bad as the mud monkeys.”
Predictably, Remiel flared. “How dare you compare us to you, you simpering, festering sore on the face of my Father’s beautiful creation.” The angel’s anger shifted to condescension, and just like that he looked more snide than wrathful. It was hard to say which one made him look uglier. “But I guess you’d know a thing or two about angels, wouldn’t you, Dean? Does it feel good having Castiel inside you? Do you get off on it?”
Dean could see Sam falter from the corner of his eye.
The abrupt change in motion caught Remiel’s attention, too. He shot a look over at Sam, who had a lighter in hand.
“Bobby!” Dean yelled.
Bobby, who was standing on the other side of the angel with a bottle of holy oil ready to throw.
Before Bobby’s arm could let fly the liquid, Remiel opened his mouth.
“Pitiful humans, you would dare to threaten me with your tricks!? I will destroy you all for this impudence! Raphael’s will shall reign in Heaven and on Earth and you will suffer!” His words seemed to wrap up the sky.
It was a pretty unimpressive decree, as far as bad guy monologues went, but Dean stopped paying attention to the words pretty damn quick when Bobby and Sam both dropped the things they were holding to cover their ears with their hands.
Dean watched, stupefied, as Bobby and Sam both fell to their knees in agony. Blood trickled from between their fingers as they writhed on the ground.
While Dean stood there dumbly, watching his brother and friend suffer while Dean himself didn’t feel so much as a tickle.
Without thinking, Dean’s mind cried, ‘Cas! Getting our asses handed to us by Remiel down here! Could use some help!’ The thought flew through his brain like a knee-jerk reaction, automatic and instantaneous.
Before Dean could process what was going on, there was a bright burst of yes! in his chest, a flutter of air, and suddenly Castiel was standing behind Remiel looking decidedly smiteful.
Dean moved at once. He dove for the dropped bottle of holy oil by Bobby, just as Remiel sensed Castiel behind him.
In one fast motion, Dean leapt up with the bottle and upended the thing into Remiel’s open mouth.
Castiel rushed up behind Remiel in the next split second, clamped his hand over the other angel’s mouth to keep him from spitting out the oil, and bellowed, “Close your eyes!”
Dean leapt back. Sam and Bobby, still cradling their heads between blood-streaked hands, clenched their eyes shut.
Dean knew he should have, but he didn’t. He stepped back and watched, wide-eyed, as Castiel snaked his free hand around to touch Remiel’s throat and used his power to ignite the holy oil inside the dickhead.
Remiel seized and his body went rigid. Castiel let him go and moved a step away. Remiel’s eyes burned bright with angelic light, he threw his head back, and suddenly there was light. Light, brighter than anything Dean had ever seen. He’d never imagined a light so bright. It flared for half a second like twenty thousand suns… he felt it tingle on his skin like a summer’s sun, only this light went deeper. It touched Castiel’s grace in his chest and made Dean flinch and bring a hand to his sternum.
Then the light changed, grew and took up half the sky. Inside its immensity were colors, prisms and threads of every color in the spectrum and then some.
And then, for just the briefest instant, Dean imagined he saw a figure. Features. He saw an angel.
Then the light was gone with a blast and Remiel’s vessel fell to the ground, burned to a crisp.
Dean blinked, dazed and in a stupor. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. He stared agape at Castiel a few feet away. The angel was looking back at Dean with a look of equal surprise on his face. Dean knew that by all rights he shouldn’t see anything at all. His eyes should be black holes in his head.
No telling how long Dean might have stood there staring in open wonder at Castiel if Sam hadn’t struggled to his feet. He was so not happy. “What… the… fuck!” he barked, practically yelling.
“You couldn’t have gotten here just a little sooner?” Bobby asked testily as he fought his way back to his feet. He was talking too loud, couldn’t hear himself and how loud he was being after his eardrums had taken an angelic beating. The sides of his head were streaked with blood, just like Sam’s. The two of them scowled at Castiel for not sparing them that pain, then they looked in unison at Dean… standing there unbloodied.
So not getting into that right then.
Dean looked straight at Cas, offered a lopsided smile, and said, “Nice of you to drop by.”
The surprised look on Castiel’s face was masterfully replaced by his typical deadpan expression… except for a very tiny smile in return as he nodded back at Dean.
Part Ten