The Empire of the Lion and the Wolf (7/14)

[missjigsaw23]

The kitchen is already fairly small; it seems a hell of a lot smaller when there are five people crowded around a table that's probably barely fit to seat three, listening to Bobby from Dean's cell, which had been put on speaker for this occasion because every other attempted conversation with Bobby just ends up with Dean being asked what's being said anyway.

“So they're finally gone?” Sam asks, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

“Yeah,” says Bobby, voice slightly staticy. “Took 'em goddamn long enough, too.”

“You do have to admire their tenacity,” says Crowley. “It's been how long now?”

Over a month is how long it's been. Over a month since they left Bobby's, and H&H henchmen have been hanging around the salvage yard ever since. Until now, anyway.

“You boys been havin' anymore dreams?” Bobby asks, after a pause.

“No,” says Sam. “Nothing.”

Nothing that Dean can remember. He's just still not sleeping well on occasion. Those occasions just happen to still coincide with the nights he actually sleeps on the couch in the living room, instead of drifting off in Castiel's room. A habit that hasn't escaped Gabriel's notice, but Dean still has his head and the archangel has just taken to mocking Cas mercilessly, so Dean guesses he's safe for now...

“Ash got that information you were lookin' for,” says Bobby. “Crowley's source was right; looks like the Morningstars are gonna be in Chicago this weekend, and from what he can gather, your company IDs are still valid... All that aside, you boys sure this is such a good idea?”

“Oh it's not,” says Crowley. “I've tried telling them that, but no one listens to me.”

“Well maybe if you gave a shit about anything but your own damn skin,” Sam snaps.

Crowley, always quick to antagonize Sam, says, “If you dislike my preference for keeping my delicate ass in one piece, fine, but watch your tone, or you can sod off and get out of my house.”

“Our house,” Gabriel reminds him, and Dean can tell it for the 'you're not the one calling the shots' it's meant to be.

Crowley seems to get it too, because Dean sees him sag a bit, and hears him swearing under his breath, but he keeps any further comments to himself.

“If we could continue the conversation,” says Castiel, giving them all an impatient glare.

“Listen to Feathers,” says Bobby, sounding as annoyed as Castiel looks. “Now I'll ask again; are you idjits sure this is a good idea?”

“Not even close,” says Dean, and he hears Bobby sigh in frustration. “But it's what we got. I for one don't wanna wait around while they look for us.”

Another sigh from Bobby. “When you gonna head out then?”

Dean looks at the others as he speaks, looking for any cues that they might not be in agreement with his words. “Tomorrow, probably. It's a twelve-hour drive, and we gotta get a good look at the building before we figure the best way in and out. We head out tomorrow, and we got a couple of days to do that.”

None of the others object, so that works out at least.

When Bobby speaks again, it's almost reluctantly. “I can see if Ash can get you any info on the place... You boys take care of yourselves. Feathers, do me a favor and make sure they don't do nothin' stupid. Especially Dean.”

“Since when is he my keeper?” Dean growls. Castiel just gives the phone- and Dean- an almost fond look.

Bobby ignores the protest. “Gabriel, I know you don't think much of humans, and I can't really blame ya for that, but look after 'em.”

“You got it, Wheels,” says Gabriel.

Dean can hear Bobby's annoyed huff at the nickname.

“Well now I'm just feeling left out,” says Crowley. “No special message for me?”

“Besides 'go to hell'?” Sam mutters so only Dean, and maybe Cas, can hear.

“Yeah,” says Bobby. “Don't get so concerned about keepin' your own bacon outta the fire that ya get my boys hurt.” With that, he hangs up.

“So much hostility,” says Crowley, after a moment. “What have I ever done to any of you?”

Everyone else rolls their eyes.


Dean's heading out to put his bag of weapons in the truck- the last of the things they're taking- when he sees Sam hunched on the couch, holding a bloody towel to his nose.

“Sammy? What happened?”

Sam jumps, and stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment before he answers in a slightly stuffy, muffled fashion, “Oh, I tripped and hit the door on my way in.”

Dean narrows his eyes at his brother. “Sam.”

“What? I swear, I tripped over the damn dog and got my face introduced to the door.”

Dean gives him a slow nod and a 'hmm' in return, as he continues to study his brother, looking for any hint of dishonesty. Unfortunately, it's kind of hard to see around the bloody nose and the epic puppy eyes.

Dean shakes his head, mutters “whatever” and heads outside to toss the weaponry in the truck. He'll be looking further into the matter of the bloody nose after they're done with this.

When he goes back inside, Gabriel has joined Sam and they're talking amongst themselves. Dean casts them a suspicious glance as he goes by, which doesn't escape Gabriel's notice. But of course the dick only smirks at him and goes back to the conversation with Sam.

Dean really wants to punch him sometimes. Okay, pretty much all the time. But Gabriel's asking for it.

“Glaring at him isn't going to make him stop whatever he's doing to offend you.” Castiel's rough voice comes from behind him. “I would say it's only likely to encourage him.”

Dean turns to face the angel. “Yeah, I know... I got everything packed up, so we're ready to go first thing tomorrow. Are you goin' with Gabriel, or you riding with me and Sam?”

“Gabriel has requested that I accompany him until it's time to go into the city,” says Cas. “I would appreciate the opportunity to stretch.” The last is said with a vague gesture at his wings.

Dean shrugs, “Just don't get caught. Flyin' around a populated area ain't exactly safe.”

“I avoided capture for fifty years before we met, Dean. I know what I'm doing.”

And yeah, Dean should probably remember that, but he can't help it if he worries. Cas had gotten captured, after all. So had Gabriel. If it had happened once, it could happen again. Especially since they're deliberately going into a densely populated space. It would probably be best if there was no flying done at all, but Dean, Sam and Crowley had already lost that argument with Gabriel.

Castiel starts to head for the back door, gesturing for Dean to follow him, and Dean notices for the first time that he's carrying a couple beers.

They sit on the edge of the back porch, as Dean pops the cap off the beer that Cas hands him. “To our reckless little scheme,” he says, before taking a long drink.

Castiel tips his own bottle towards Dean before taking a drink. “I've heard of worse plans.”

“You sure about that, or are you just sayin' that to make me feel better?”

“It can't be both?”

Dean shrugs, taking another drink. “Ah well. Even if we fail miserably at this, at least we tried. And hey, I got to know you, so it wasn't a total loss.” The last doesn't come out as casual as he'd meant it to.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas' lips twitching up in the barest hints of a smile. “No,” he says softly. “Not a loss at all.”

Dean shifts so he can fully face his companion, and is rewarded with one of Castiel's intense stares. Dean stares back, unable to move. He wants to close the distance between them and kiss the angel senseless. He's wanted to ever since... Hell, he doesn't even know when, anymore. The last month and half has been torture. Trying to ignore any feelings not strictly on the friends wavelength hasn't helped much. The way Cas looks at him sometimes hasn't helped either. Most of all, the fact that Dean likes him, the fact that he wants him, and the fact that he thinks whatever they have could actually go somewhere really doesn't help.

So he just sits, and stares, green boring into blue, caught between moving forward, and backing away...

He finally makes up his mind to back up, to put a proper distance between himself, and Cas. He doesn't get the chance to actually go through with this course of action, though, because the angel grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him into a kiss. Caught off guard, Dean tenses.

Castiel feels him tense, and pulls away abruptly, looking as surprised by his actions as Dean feels. “I'm... Sorry, I-”

Dean holds up a hand, and says very slowly, “Don't. Don't be sorry... But, and not that I'm complaining or anything, what about 'not likely to happen'?”

Cas tilts his head, and narrows his eyes, confusion apparent. When he catches on to what Dean's talking about, his expression goes from puzzled to amused in a second. “You thought...” Cas huffs out what might be a laugh. “If you're referring to what I said to Sam, I was merely trying to assist you in your attempts to make him stop mocking us.”

Dean blinks at him for a moment, marvels at his own stupidity, then laughs. “Dude, I backed off 'cause I thought you decided you weren't interested.”

Castiel shakes his head, and leans in closer. “Perhaps we should endeavor to communicate more clearly in the future.”

Dean nods, makes his own move closer- “Definitely,” -and captures Cas' lips with his own, his hands moving over their own volition to tangle in Castiel's perpetually messy hair.

He feels Cas pull him as close as they can get, considering the way they're sitting, feels Cas' tongue trace along his bottom lip. Dean opens his mouth and meets Cas' tongue with his own. He lets himself get lost in the sensations; the rough scrape of Cas' stubble, the angel's hands tracing over his chest and shoulders, the feel of Castiel thoroughly exploring his mouth...

Dean wishes he'd gone ahead and asked Cas about his comment weeks ago, because it's a damn shame they'd missed out on so much time that could have been put to better use.

Cas' hands suddenly press flat against his chest, and the angel pushes him back with a low growl until he hits the column supporting the porch roof, knocking the beers to the ground. Castiel is straddling his hips a moment later, effectively pinning Dean in place.

“Cheater,” says Dean, pulling away for a moment.

“How am I cheating?” Castiel asks, before cutting off any answer Dean might have with another searing kiss.

“Because,” Dean manages to get out, in a pant. “You totally just used your super-strength on me.”

“Mm. It did seem the quickest way to get you where I wanted,” Castiel smirks.

“You're the bossy type, aren't you?”

Castiel kisses him again, then pulls Dean forward as he leans back, settling his weight on Dean's thighs- he's actually surprisingly light- never breaking the kiss, until he decides to answer. “Not going to be a problem is it?”

Dean shakes his head, lets his hands trail down Cas' chest, 'til he can slip his fingers under the hem of his tee and inch them upwards. “Nope,” he says, and promptly goes back to exploring Castiel's mouth with his tongue, which he thinks might just be a new favorite pastime.

“There is a problem, actually.”

Dean freezes, because that sounds an awful lot like Gabriel. He reluctantly breaks away from Castiel and looks up. Shit.

Gabriel's glaring at them and Dean sees Crowley peering out the window. Sam's poking his head out the door, and he seems torn between looking sympathetic about the nasty end Dean is surely about to meet, and laughing hysterically.

Well, if Gabriel's going to kill him, trying to apologize likely isn't going to help, so Dean just leans back against the column and puts on his best smug smile. “No complaints from me so far.”

Castiel looks like he doesn't know whether to smirk, or grimace at that, and ends up pulling a face that's some weird mixture of both.

Sam's in the background, shaking his head and probably calling Dean an idiot. Gabriel, by some miracle, doesn't even blink at the innuendo. He points at Castiel, “You, inside,” then looks at Sam and Crowley, “You two, get lost,” and finally points at Dean. “You, get up. We're talking.”

“Gabriel-” Castiel starts.

“Go, little brother. Take a cold shower or something.”

Castiel glares at his brother, but slides off of Dean and stands, then offers Dean a hand up. Dean expects Cas to let go once he's on his feet, but Cas glares at Gabriel again, and then in an act of rebellion, kisses Dean.

Death may still be on the table, but that doesn't stop Dean from kissing back.

Cas goes inside looking incredibly smug. Dean can see Gabriel's jaw twitching.

“Uh, Dean,” says Sam, having decided on looking worried.

“I said scram, Bigfoot,” Gabriel snaps.

Dean nods at Sam, who sighs, and reluctantly closes the door. Dean's willing to bet he's got his ear pressed against it though. “So am I about to get the 'hurt my brother and I tear your arms off' speech? 'Cause you've already threatened to dismember me once.”

“Just shut up and listen, Chuckles,” says Gabriel. “I can't stop you from pursuing this thing with my brother... Well, I could, but I'm not in the mood to explain to Castiel why I tore your head off.. But I can tell you that if you intend on just ditching him when we get this mess with Michael and Lucifer straightened out, missing limbs will be the least of your worries, are we clear?”

Dean holds back any snarky comments, since he doesn't doubt for a second that Gabriel is being completely sincere. “Yeah, I got ya. Can I go?”

“Not yet. I've got a question first.”

“Fire away, then.”

“Are you planning on ditching him when we get the mess with Michael and Lucifer straightened out?”

Dean's first inclination is to say “no”, but he thinks about it for a moment. Theoretically speaking, he and Sam could return to civilization once Michael and Lucifer are taken care of. Maybe they couldn't go home, but they could go back to Sioux Falls... It's not like there's much of a home to go back to anyway. They don't have their job, the apartment is probably being rented to someone else by now, and Lisa still doesn't answer his calls.

He thinks back over the past month and a half. Aside from his bosses wanting to use him as a sacrifice, he can't say it's been bad. Okay, so being stuck either on the couch or the floor has gotten pretty old, and Crowley and Gabriel make life hell... But when it's just him, Sam, and Cas, he's perfectly content. He thinks he could get used to it being a permanent thing...

So he takes a breath, and says, “No.”

Gabriel seems surprised by the answer, and he loses a great deal of the 'I'm going to kill you' expression. He just looks at Dean for the longest time, like he's trying to see if Dean's telling the truth.

Finally, the archangel gives him a dismissive wave.

Silently thanking every deity he can think of, Dean makes for the door.

“Dean.” Gabriel's voice stops him, just as he's about to step inside. “The poor kid is already half in love with you. Don't make him regret it.”

Dean nods at him slowly, unable to think of a proper response, and goes in.

He considers going into Castiel's room, as he passes by, but decides it might not be best to push his luck with Gabriel, and walks on past. He's got things to think about anyway.

He can hear water running in the bathroom, and considering the lack of Sam in the living room, he assumes Sam is the occupant.

This leaves him alone with his thoughts as he flops on the couch. Him alone with his thoughts is rarely a good thing, or so he's been told.

Gabriel's last words float around in his head; 'already half in love with you'. Assuming Gabriel wasn't talking out his ass, and it hadn't sounded like he was, then... Hell, he doesn't even know. He knows it should be terrifying to know that Cas feels that way, especially considering that Dean can easily imagine himself falling for Cas. It should be terrifying because his grand total of two serious relationships hadn't gone well. He and Lisa had discovered the hard way they worked better as friends, and the other... Well, his very brief engagement to Cassie had been catastrophic.

Which begs the question of how exactly he feels about Castiel, aside from just being able to imagine falling for him. This of course assuming he hasn't already started, which he's not entirely sure he can deny. Not even sure he wants to, because he does care a great deal about the angel, and the idea of being with him is an appealing one. But on the other hand, he still doesn't have a great track record with relationships...

He wants to think maybe things can be different with Cas. He wants to think that after this crazy little mission in Chicago, they can have plenty of time to sort it out.

“So Gabriel didn't kill you?”

Pulled out of his thoughts, Dean looks up in time to see Sam dropping himself into the armchair he and Crowley have taken to fighting over. “You disappointed?”

“Maybe a little.”

“You're so funny.”

“So why aren't you with Cas?”

“Because I'm kinda attached to my head.”

“Gabriel try to tell you to back off?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. Well, not outright. I think he was maybe hoping, but he didn't actually say it.”

Sam gives him that look that makes him feel like he's under a microscope, and says, “So, are you going to back off, or is there... actually potential?”

“You're not seriously trying to rope me into girl talk are you?”

“What? I just wanna know. C'mon. You know I'm not gonna leave you alone.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, alright. There's potential. Wipe the grin off your face before I do it for you.”

Sam's grin stays firmly in place. “I love being right.”

Dean grabs one of the pillows that adorn the couch and smacks Sam with it. “Shut up.”

“Dick,” says Sam, though he's still smiling.

Ignoring him is probably the best option, so Dean grabs the laptop from the coffee table and entertains himself with random websites for a while.

Until Sam starts humming. Humming and singing under his breath. Dean keeps right on ignoring him.

Then it dawns on him what Sam's humming, when he catches 'what started out as friendship has grown stronger' and he hits Sam with the pillow again. “Shut up. If I get that goddamn song stuck in my head, I'm gonna shoot you. Why are you even singing it?”

Sam smirks at him. “Because I think it fits the situation.”

Dean glares, shakes his head, and returned his attention to the computer.

It's not long after that Dean finds himself singing, “And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, you're a candle in the wind- Fuck! Damn it, Sam!”

Sam doubles over laughing before Dean can hit him again.



They get an early, early start the next morning. Dean hadn't exactly gotten any restful sleep- Sam woke him up several times, bitching that his tossing and turning was making too much noise- so he feels like a zombie walking around.

He and Castiel don't get any real opportunity to talk, what with the well-rested people hurrying around like their asses are on fire.

The only moment they get is when Gabriel and Castiel are about to take off. Dean's just finished going over the plan one last time when Castiel reaches forward, and runs long fingers through Dean's hair.

“We'll see you this evening,” he says, tone affectionate, before he and Gabriel take off.

Dean faces Sam and Crowley, who's riding with them, much to Dean's annoyance. “One word, from either of you... One word.”

Sam's wearing his idiot grin again. Crowley just shrugs and vanishes, only to reappear in the truck. Dean shakes his head and decides he's too tired for spending all day trapped in a confined space with Crowley. Not that deciding that does him any good, because he still has to put up with it.

God, kill him now.



“God damn it, Crowley, if you don't stop kicking me, I swear I'm gonna stab you.”

Dean sighs and tries to resist the urge to bash his head against the steering wheel. This must be what Bobby and Ellen had felt like when he, Sam and Jo were kids, and there had been a never ending chorus of 'Daddy, he pinched me!' and 'Did not! Besides, she kicked me first!' and 'Ellen, Dean stole my book!' coming from the back seat.

“If you weren't freakishly large, and taking up far too much space,” says Crowley.

“Get in the back, then,” Sam snaps.

“I don't like small spaces. You get in the back.”

It's been a variation of the same argument since they left. If Dean hears many more versions of it, he's gonna snap, and start running people off the road or something.

“Why are you even tagging along? You think we're all gonna die anyway.”

“What can I say? I'm invested.”

“As if we could forget your epic love for Gabriel,” Dean mutters, though there's no way Crowley doesn't hear him.

Crowley ignores it. “Anyway, shouldn't you be turning here?”

...He should, actually. That doesn't stop him from saying, “No backseat driving.”

“I'm not in the back, am I?”

“No shotgun driving then.”

“Gigantor's shotgun, not me. I'm in the middle.”

“Crowley.”

That puts an end to it for now. Hopefully permanently. How has Gabriel put up with the demon for fifteen years? Dean's ready to kill him after a month.

When they stop to grab something to eat, Dean jumps at the chance to be the one doing the grabbing, just so he can get away from Sam and Crowley.

Somehow they manage to make it to the secluded little rest stop where they're meeting Gabriel and Castiel without any blood being spilled. Dean's going to count that as a miracle.

Crowley gets banished to the back with the angels for the trip into the city, since they really don't need someone seeing him and wondering why he doesn't have a collar. He doesn't stop complaining the entire time he's back there. Which is from the rest stop, through the city, all the way to the motel Dean finally decides on.

To avoid issues with sleeping arrangements, they get two adjoining rooms. This also means there can be as little traversing outside as possible. The less people that see them, the better.

Sam wastes no time in getting the laptop set up and looking through a bunch of things Ash had sent him. Mostly details on the security of the H&H building, plus the indoor layout. Both of which save them a hell of a lot of time, since it means they don't have to spend several days trying to figure out where everything is.

Instead they get to spend several days making adjustments to the plan to account for the new information.

Thankfully Michael and Lucifer's office is alone on the top floor, like Dean had been hoping it would be. Less chance of anyone hearing anything and snooping that way. Less chance of someone just happening by that way, too.

Dean can only hope they manage to get the drop on Michael and Lucifer. He's fairly certain that's the only way they're gonna be able to pull this off. That, or a miracle. He's not holding out any hope for the miracle.

With Sam going over everything from Ash, and the angels, and Crowley off in the second room, Dean figures now is probably the best time to make sure he gets the shower first.



It's late, and he should probably go to bed. Everyone else has. Well, almost everyone. Castiel is in the other chair, face planted in a book. But at least he's asleep. Dean's still staring bleary-eyed at the laptop screen. Not for any particular reason other than that he had gotten distracted and hadn't noticed the passage of time.

He grabs a piece of balled up paper that Sam had left on the table and throws it at Castiel, hitting the angel in the nose. Cas stirs, scratches at his nose, and sits up, blinking. “Why are you throwing things at me?”

“Because you're gonna hurt like hell in the morning if you sleep like that. You stayin' in here, or with Crowley and Gabriel?”

Castiel doesn't even have to think about it. “In here... Gabriel snores.”

Dean laughs, and gets to his feet. He gives Cas a cocky smirk as he shuts the laptop. “If you wanna stay with me, you can just say so.”

Castiel doesn't give him the satisfaction of an answer, just gets up, and heads for bed. He seems to recall Dean's preference for being closest to the door, as he goes for the opposite side. Dean watches him adjusting pillows for a moment, before he flicks off the overhead light and flops onto the mattress with a tired sigh.

This sends Cas' careful pillow arrangement bouncing out of place, which Dean can see once his eyes adjust to the dark. He can feel Castiel giving him a dirty look, too, though he can't quite see that well yet.

Cas rearranges the pillows, and slides under the blankets. He pauses a moment, not completely settled, then the mattress shifts, feathers rustle, and Dean suddenly has Castiel looming over him.

He doesn't get to ask 'what?' before Cas is kissing him. Unfortunately- or maybe not so unfortunately, since Sam is only a few feet away- he pulls away far too quickly.

“What was that for?”

Castiel shrugs, “In case you thought last night was a fluke.”

Dean thinks about saying he needs more convincing. Sam, he reminds himself, Sam is right there. Instead, he pulls Cas back for another quick kiss, then lets him settle back on his own side of the bed.

He's still not entirely sure how exactly he feels about the angel, but he thinks he could get used to this arrangement.

Dean falls asleep smiling.



Ash calls the next afternoon to tell them that Michael and Lucifer have arrived in Chicago early, according to what he's seeing on the computer, and that the flight plans he'd somehow gotten hold of suggest they're going to be leaving tomorrow morning.

Well, that puts a damper on the 'chill and watch for a few days' plan.

Okay, so it's now or never. Dean's preferred method of living, in most cases, but he'd really like this one to be an exception. Everything they have works in theory. They know the layout of the building, they know the most direct route to Michael and Lucifer's office that keeps them off security cameras... They know where the guards are supposed to be at any given time. But that's just it; supposed to be. Watching for a few days before Michael and Lucifer arrived, would have given them an idea of how the guards were really stationed and how much they deviated from the actual schedule...

But no; Michael and Lucifer just had to arrive early and put time constraints on the whole thing. Because one thing just can't go according to plan. The story of Sam and Dean's life. Though, generally on a less life threatening scale.

“So what're we gonna do?” Gabriel asks.

“I say we call it all off,” says Crowley.

“I say we go ahead with the plan,” says Dean.

If they don't do it now, they'll be waiting God knows how long for another chance. It took them for goddamn ever to find out where Michael and Lucifer were going to be this time, and Dean's not entirely sure his psyche can withstand living with Gabriel and Crowley much longer. At least if they get rid of Michael, and Lucifer, they can go back to Bobby's or something, until they get something else worked out.

More importantly, Dean's tired of worrying about running into Michael or Lucifer in his head. He's tired of having that little nagging thought that they could be found at any time. He's certainly tired of not getting any decent goddamn sleep.

Crowley looks at all of them before he says, “You do realize that if we get caught, we are the most buggered sons in all of creation, don't you?”

“Yeah, we do,” says Sam.

“Just checking. Do you see, Gabriel? They've got a death wish.”

Gabriel sighs, and Dean's sure he's about to agree with Crowley. He's not entirely sure they can pull this off without the archangel. Hell, he's not entirely sure they can pull this off even with the archangel, but having him would be a big help. But Gabriel hadn't been a hundred percent behind them anyway; Dean knows the only reason he's here is because of Castiel...

“What do you think, little bro?” Gabriel asks.

Okay, pleasant surprise.

Castiel doesn't hesitate. “I agree with Dean.”

“Of course he does,” Crowley mutters.

Gabriel sighs again, in resignation this time. “Fine. If you want to go ahead and do this, I'm with you. Crowley?”

Crowley looks at the archangel for a long moment, then closes his eyes and takes a breath before he says, “I can't for the life of me see why, but fine. I'm in.”

Dean nods at them. “Sammy?”

“I say we do it while we have the chance.”

“Alrighty then,” says Gabriel. “Operation 'this will most likely end in death' is a go.”

Unfortunately, Dean can't say he disagrees with the name.



Getting into the building is simple; no one ever really pays attention to the people going in or out through the main entrance. At least, they hadn't back home. Hell, there aren't even guards outside. Inside, sure, but not out.

The lobby is busy this time of day, and had they not been put under time constraints, Dean would have liked to have shown up earlier, or later. Not in the middle of the afternoon when the place is busiest. He can feel Gabriel and Castiel tensing up. Tensing up more, anyway. They hadn't done so well on the trip over.

Dean can understand the anxiety. They're both back in the collars from Bobby's, and they're in a building full of humans and enslaved demons and angels; it can't possibly bring up any sort of pleasant memories. They just have to hold it together until this is done.

Castiel is doing better than Gabriel, at least. But Dean gets the impression that Gabriel had gone through some serious shit when he'd been someone's pet...

At least being downright terrified serves the purpose of keeping Gabriel from looking too... Gabriel-ish, and drawing attention to himself.

Because of the lack of a third collar, Crowley's back at the motel, and waiting for Gabriel to call him, once they get up to the Bosses' office. This is probably for the best, since Dean isn't entirely sure Crowley wouldn't have just drawn unnecessary attention to them when he decided that he didn't want to be obedient...

They approach the guard placed in front of the hall that leads to the offices. He seems too engrossed in looking like he would rather be anywhere else to really pay any attention to them, and when Sam and Dean flash their company IDs, he doesn't even bother checking any further before he waves them off and lets them go past.

Okay, hell of a lot easier than expected. Dean had been sure he'd have to rattle off some excuse for why he and Sam, nothing but a couple of Hunters, would need to see the big guys. He keeps a list of the good ones in mind, just in case the guard decides he maybe wants to know what they're doing after all. He also keeps in mind the gun tucked into his jeans, under his shirt.

But they manage to make it to the elevators without being stopped. Now is where they have to make sure they aren't seen, because taking the stairs when the elevators are working perfectly fine might seem suspicious. Stairs, however, are the best option for avoiding people.

“Well, that was easy,” says Gabriel, as the group slips through the door into the stairwell. He's trying to sound relaxed; Dean can hear the fear coloring his tone. He wonders what had been done to fuck the archangel up so badly...

“Don't speak so soon, Gabriel,” says Castiel. “You'll... Jinx it...” he looks at Dean, like he wants confirmation that he used the phrase right.

“Can we get going?” Sam pushes past all of them, and starts up the stairs. “We've got a hell of a long way to go.”

Dean and the angels follow him. Sam's right; they have a hell of a long climb ahead of them. Dean gets bored two flights up, and entertains himself by humming. That only works for so long, because eventually he's too winded to hum.

“Remind me why we couldn't take the elevator?” Gabriel asks.

“Because we'd have definitely run into people, and because this way we stay off as many cameras as possible,” says Sam.

“We're not too far from the top anyway,” says Dean. Which he's eternally grateful for.

When they finally do reach the top floor, they take a few minutes to rest and compose themselves.

“Last chance to back out,” says Gabriel, as Sam starts to open the door to the hall.

Sam ignores him and opens the door.

The hall is short, and leads to nothing but a small waiting room of sorts occupied by a few chairs, a desk, and a woman Dean assumes is the secretary.

Her name plaque says “Ava Wilson” and she gives them a (fake) smile when they approach.

Dean just needs to confirm one thing. “Are the bosses in?”

“Yes,” she says, smile still in place. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Can't say we do, sweetheart,” says Dean, as he makes for the doors to the office.

“Um, excuse me, you can't go in there without-... Let me call them.” She starts to reach for the intercom on the desk.

Dean tries to run options through his head that don't end in her screaming and alerting everyone within hearing distance to their presence. He barely gets going before he sees Crowley appear behind her.

He's about to... He doesn't know. Warn her, or something, when Crowley grabs her head and twists before the poor girl can even make a sound. Her neck snaps with a stomach-turning crunch and Crowley lets the body slump to the floor with a dull thud.

Only the need for quiet keeps Dean from shouting when he says, “What the fuck, Crowley!? You just-... What the fuck?”

Sam's just gaping at the body. Gabriel seems unfazed. Cas is... Cas.

Crowley dusts his hands on his suit. “What? She was going to alert them to your presence. She needed to be silenced.”

Sam finally gets words to form. “How could you just-”

Crowley holds up a hand. “Save the moral crisis for another day, boys. It had to be done, so I did it. As for how; it's simple. It may have escaped your notice, but I don't like humans. They can all go to hell, as far as I'm concerned. May we go? I want to get this over with.”

Dean glances back and forth from Crowley to the dead woman a few times. He can't say that he blames Crowley for his hatred of the human race, but the girl hadn't done anything... There had been no reason to kill her.

But then, what would Dean have been able to do that would have kept her from making any noise? A part of Dean's mind that he really wishes wasn't there thinks maybe Crowley made the right choice...

“Crowley's right” says Gabriel, pulling his blade from his jacket. “Moral crisis later, getting ourselves killed now.”

Dean shakes himself, tries very hard not to look at the body again, pulls his gun from under his shirt, and opens the office doors.

He expects Michael and Lucifer to be there. Perhaps sitting at their desks, so they can swivel around in their chairs as the group goes into the room.

They aren't.

In fact, aside from the five of them, the room appears to be empty.

“What the-”

The doors slam behind them with an echoing bang, making them all jump, and spin to face the doors.

“Well, there you are,” says a nasal voice from behind them. It tickles something in Dean's memory, but he can't place it. “We've been waiting.”

Dean turns, more than a little afraid of what he's going to see. As he should be, he realizes. In a line in front of the desks are six demons, all wielding the same type of blade as Gabriel. Five of them have tattoos around their throats where collars should be. The sixth stands slightly in front of the others, and has neither collar, nor tattoos.

There's something about the sixth... He's tall, thin, and the white iris thing is goddamn creepy, but there's something familiar...

“Michael and Lucifer send their regards,” says the white-eyed demon. “They couldn't make it.”

“I told you this was a monumentally bad idea,” Crowley mutters.

Dean ignores him. Grip tightening on his gun, he asks, “Yeah? And who are you supposed to be?”

“Alistair. I'm here to take you to the Bosses.”

“You can try,” Castiel growls.

“Oooh, feisty little angel,” says Alistair. It's going to drive Dean crazy; why does he recognize this guy? “We only need the humans... The rest of you can leave. Or stay and die.”

Dean doesn't doubt for a second that Crowley really wants to take that offer. But Castiel isn't budging, and because Cas isn't, neither is Gabriel. He may be a selfish bastard, but Dean's starting to get that Crowley doesn't leave Gabriel, ever.

When none of them move, Alistair smiles. “Death then. Boys, kill the angels, and the demon.”

One second, the demons are in front of them, the next they're behind and at the sides, blades twirling in their hands.

Gabriel doesn't wait for them to get to him; he goes after the one nearest to him, with a yell, and after that, all Dean can really see is a flurry of feathers. Castiel follows his brother's example.

Dean doesn't see what Crowley or Sam are doing, because the demon advancing on him is getting too close for comfort. The Enochian engraved bullets his gun is loaded with aren't going to do much damage to a demon; that's what the knife tucked into his boot is for. He just doesn't think he has time to reach it, so he squeezes off a few rounds into the demon's chest, making him stagger momentarily.

He hears more gunshots that let him know Sam is probably in the same predicament.

He doubts they'll kill either him or Sam, which means they have an advantage over the demons, but he doesn't know how much good that's gonna do in the long run.

The demon is recovering from the minimal amount of damage done by the slugs and Dean only has a second to go for the knife. He gets a fist square in the jaw when he comes back up, and stumbles back.

The demon smirks at him, a crazed look in his eyes, and spins the blade in his hand around a few times.

Dean wonders what the hell has them so eager in their task, but he doesn't have time to ponder it, not right know. Knife in hand, he lunges at the demon, slashing towards his chest. The demon dodges and swipes at Dean with the sword. He's seen what those things do to angels who get stabbed with them; he really doesn't want to find out if he's susceptible to the same fate as a half-angel...

He and the demon circle each other, and Dean does his best to drown out the noise from the others. He can't concentrate on not dying, and concentrate on everyone else at the same time.

His next slash cuts into the demon's chest and it stumbles away from him, hand pressed to the wound. Dean's further attack is interrupted when he hears someone shouting in pain from across the room.

Without thinking, he starts to turn to see who's been hurt. He sees Cas, holding on to the pointy end of his demon's sword, blood pouring from his palms onto the carpet. He twists the blade away from the demon-

That's as much as Dean sees before something simultaneously hot and cold slices through the thin material of his t-shirt sleeve and the flesh of his shoulder, and he thinks there's maybe the tiniest flash of light. He's gotten sliced up before; this isn't like that... This feels like someone's cutting him open and pouring acid into his system, and it fucking hurts.

He screams and barely manages to not hit the floor, and holy shit how had Castiel managed to keep on with disarming that demon if this is what those fucking blades feel like?

He keeps his knife tight in his grip, and before the demon can strike another blow, Dean stands upright as quickly as he can and thrusts upward with the weapon. The demon, coming in for a second slice, practically impales himself on the blade.

Dean gives it a good twist, watches the demon's face contort with a silent scream, then yanks the knife back out.

Breathing hard, he looks for Sam, and sees his brother struggling against his demon. Dean stuffs his knife back in his boot and grabs his gun from the floor. It'll be a distraction at least. He fires off a few rounds, and the demon staggers and stops his assault. Sam slices his throat open a moment later.

Dean runs for the door without checking the others; he needs to get the door open so they can get just the fuck out of here.

“Where do you think you're flying off to?”

Dean stops dead in his tracks. Where do you think you're flying off to? The man he'd seen in the house the night his parents had died... The one he'd always assumed didn't exist, because it didn't fit with the official story he'd been told. He'd been tall... Thin... Carrying what Dean now assumes was one of the angel swords... And he'd asked Mary 'Where did you fly off to?' when he'd come up the stairs.

Holy shit.

Which is about all the time he gets to process his realization before he feels himself being shoved by some incorporeal force into the wall.

Something tells him the sudden twinge and pop that comes from his knee isn't a good thing, but everything is still kinda dulled by the burning coming from the wound on his shoulder. The knee is probably gonna hurt like a motherfucker later, though. If he makes it to later.

“Dean!” someone shouts. It might be Sam, it might be Castiel. Hell, it might be both. He's not sure.

He's being held against the wall and Alistair is suddenly in front of him. “It's been a while, Mr. Winchester,” he says. “I seem to recall having your mommy in a similar position once.”

“I'm gonna kill you,” Dean hisses. He means it to sound intimidating. He's not sure if he just doesn't succeed, or if Alistair just isn't easily scared.

“I think you'll try,” says Alistair. “But you won't do it.”

“I'll give it my best shot.”

Dean had been so focused on Alistair that he hadn't noticed Castiel coming up behind the demon. Before Alistair can even start to turn, Castiel takes the sword in his still bleeding hands and drives it through the demon's back until the tip pierces through the front of his shirt.

The demon's white eyes widen in shock and pain before he slumps to the ground. It won't kill him -the sword is for angels- but it'll put him out of commission for a little while.

The force holding Dean against the wall is suddenly gone, and he goes crashing to the floor.

Yeah, the knee is definitely going to hurt like a bitch.

He struggles to stand until Castiel grabs him by the shoulders and drags him up. Cas' hand clamps right on the wound.

The burning in his shoulder intensifies as Castiel's blood mixes with his own, and Dean wants to scream. He'd also really like someone to just chop the fucking arm off already. He hears Cas inhale sharply, but he doesn't pull his hand back right away. If it isn't completely in Dean's imagination, he doesn't seem able to.

Then the burning is gone, even from the initial cut, and Cas snatches his hand away before pulling Dean's arm over his shoulders, “Come on, we need to go before he gets back up.”

Dean wants to protest; he needs to kill Alistair, because if he's not insane, Alistair killed his parents... But his mind is going fuzzy. The flares of pain from his knee keep him mostly grounded, at least, but he can feel something creeping into his head, messing with him. This isn't right, something is wrong. Well, not wrong- it doesn't feel wrong, but it's strange, and he has no idea what it is, but he would really like it to stop so he can argue his case properly.

“Dean, quit fighting me, we have to go.” Cas' voice is right in his ear, a low, rough growl that sends a shiver down his spine-

Hello, wrong time to be thinking about that, he tells himself. Stop it, Dean, stop it. Bad timing, very, very bad timing.

“Is he okay?” he hears Sam ask, and he looks up to see Sam, Gabriel and Crowley all looking a him and Cas.

“He'll be fine,” says Castiel, but there's something off with his voice. Dean can't hear it so much as feel it. And when did he start feeling when something was off with Cas? “But we should go before anyone else arrives.”

“Go get the truck,” says Dean. “Crowley, I mean... Zap out, and get the truck... We can go out the back... Doesn't matter if we set off the alarms...”

“If you say so,” says Crowley, before he disappears.

“Alright, let's go,” says Gabriel, heading for the door.

“You got him?” Sam asks Castiel, with a nod at Dean. “'Cause I can take him.”

“No,” says Cas. “I'm stronger than you. We'll move faster this way.”

“I can walk,” says Dean, as he comes to the realization that he's in the perfect position to kiss Cas' throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to rid his brain of that thought, and purposefully puts weight on his knee.

Cas lets him go just as he does, and he feels his leg start to give. Castiel catches him before he hits the ground. “No, you can't. Let's go.”

At least the stunt gives him a bit of clarity.

Castiel helps him out of the office and down the hall, and Dean notices that he's very deliberately keeping his eyes on the floor...

“Stairs or elevator?” Gabriel asks.

“Elevator,” says Sam. “We're not just walking out of here like we planned anyway, and the faster we leave, the better.”

The ride down seems to take longer than the walk up had. That could be because Dean's head is still muddled, and not getting any clearer, though. He's trying hard not to look at Cas- which is difficult, since he's practically clinging to the guy- in order to avoid thinking any inappropriate thoughts. Normally he's all for inappropriate thoughts, but not when they're on the run for their lives.

Things still occur to him, though, and he hears Cas drawing in shaky breaths. He starts to wonder if maybe the angel's gotten in this his head, but the thought gets cut off when the elevator jolts to a stop and he's granted lust-free thoughts for a moment when it jostles his knee.

“Fuck!” he mutters, as the doors open.

There's no way no one sees them. They're hard to miss, what with Dean's clingy hobbling and their general covered-in-bloodness... But they still move as quickly and as quietly towards the emergency exit as they can.

Of course, just because Dean knows they're not getting out unnoticed doesn't mean he hadn't been hoping. So he still flinches when he hears someone shouting for them to stop.

They're already close enough to the door that it doesn't matter anyway.

As soon as the door opens, the alarms start blaring.

Dean half expects Crowley to not be there waiting for them with the truck. It would just go along with the rest of their luck today. But he's there, standing by the truck with the engine running.

Dean could kiss him. Actually, he'd rather kiss Castiel, but-

No, no, thoughts not going there, thoughts not going there.

“I think it's too late for that,” Castiel murmurs. Or, Dean thinks he does anyway. He's not sure.

“Alright, let's go, lets go,” says Gabriel, opening up the back of the truck. “Crowley, get in here.”

Sam climbs into the driver's seat, and Cas shoves Dean into the shotgun seat before he joins his brother and Crowley in the back. When his head his back on straight, Dean's going to remember to chew Sam out for his driving.

At least it gets them away.

They make one brief stop by the motel to grab their things. Actually, Sam goes in to grab their things, since Dean can't walk and Crowley refuses to be a 'teleporting luggage carrier'.

Then its straight back to driving, because sticking around in Chicago is probably a very, very bad idea.

None of them talk. The only words exchanged are six hours in when Sam pulls over and asks Crowley to take over driving, because otherwise he's going to fall asleep and put them all in a ditch.

Dean's head is still fuzzed out with things that shouldn't be there. Something tells him that there's a way to make those additions clearer, but he never really gets to focus on trying to figure out what that is for very long before he starts imagining Castiel naked.

A few times he swears random things pop into his mind that he would never think of to begin with, but he puts it off as being... Whatever the hell is happening to him.

What the hell is happening to him?

...The blood. Cas' blood on an open wound. Cas' blood whammied him or something, that's what it is. That means it'll wear off, right? In a few more hours, he'll come down from the... high... and be good as new. That seems logical...

This doesn't wear off. The thought suddenly flits into his head, but he's pretty sure he didn't think it.



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