The Empire of the Lion and the Wolf (2/14)

[missjigsaw23]

The scene of the escape is a mess. The doors on the van have been ripped off their hinges, the bodies haven't been cleaned up yet (Dean thinks one of them may be missing his arms), and there's blood splattered everywhere. Dean can unfortunately say he's seen worse- heads ripped clean off of shoulders, along with every other extremity isn't a pretty sight- but this still shows some heavy duty angel mojo going on. Considering the way the sigils on the outside and the inside of the van have been broken, he's going to guess an archangel is responsible for at least some of the carnage.

Since none of the sigils on the van are powerful enough for an archangel, he's also going to guess that the archangel is the accomplice, and not the escapee.

“So, where do we start?” Dean asks the world at large.

“Over here,” says Sam, kneeling on the sidewalk, near the tape cording off the area. “Blood trail. One of them's hurt.”

Well that's almost like cheating. But anything that makes this job go faster is fine with Dean. Unfortunately the blood only gets them through roughly three blocks' worth of alleyways before it starts to rain.

“Oh come on,” Dean groans, looking skyward. “Really?”

Sam snorts at him, “You didn't think we'd get off that easy did you?”

“A guy can hope,” says Dean, as the rain speeds up. “C'mon, may as well keep going this way. Goddamn weather.”

Hopefully the angels haven't gotten very far. The blood had looked fairly fresh at least, so if they're lucky, they're around here somewhere. Since there's a lack of that buzzing feeling, he knows they're not in the immediate area, but within another couple of blocks would work...

A good soaking and two blocks later, and he's still not picking up anything. He figures they can give it a few more blocks, then they can go back to the truck and search that way. It would help if he knew anything about the angels. Owners would usually give him and Sam any information about habits or favorite places that could give them a place to start for the search, but Castiel hadn't even made it to his owners... And who the hell knows as far as whoever helped him goes.

“I think I'm gonna go get the truck,” Sam shouts over the roar of the rain. “You coming, or not?”

“Yeah, lets-” he stops because there, for just a second, is the slightest buzz. “Hold on a second.”

He takes the step forward that Sam had interrupted, and there's the buzz. Faint, very faint, but there.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. They're close. Come on.”

Sam hesitates for a moment, then follows him. Dean notices him pause a second later and tilt his head like he's listening for something. Dean's about to ask what's up, but Sam shakes his head and continues on as if nothing happened, so Dean mentally shrugs and goes where his freaky sixth sense tells him to.

Where said freaky sixth sense leads him is the back entrance of an old warehouse. The door is partially open and Dean can see drops of blood just inside the doorway. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Two captured angels coming up. He tugs on Sam's sleeve to get his attention, and points at the blood drops.

Sam nods to show he's seen, and they both slip into the building as quietly as they can. Voices carry through the place, but not clear enough that Dean can make out what they're saying. He and Sam keep to the shadows, behind anything they can until they reach the source of the noise, and settle behind a stack of dusty boxes.

Dean peers around the boxes to get a look at the angels, and the first thing he sees are wings; bright white feathers, edged in gold- an archangel's wings- and flecked with blood. The archangel has his- if it's the one speaking, anyway- back to the boxes, and Dean can't see the second angel- Castiel, wasn't it?- around the partially outstretched wings.

“Hm, they've upped their spells since the last time I did this,” says one of the angels. Dean's going to assume it's the archangel.

“We don't have time for this, Gabriel,” says the second, and wow, holy deep voice, Batman. “We should go, before they send someone after us.”

“Yeah? Go where, kiddo? You're not going anywhere 'til you heal, and you're not healing 'til I get this off, so hold still and let me figure this out.”

Dean looks at Sam, asking a silent 'you ready?' at which Sam nods. He pulls his gun from the holster on his thigh and Dean follows suit, and together they creep from behind the boxes towards the angels.

Dean winces when his foot scuffs against the concrete floor and he sees the archangel go rigid. A second later, he's spun around to face Sam and Dean, one wing extending as he moves, forcing Sam and Dean to hit the floor to avoid being struck. It isn't the first time and it won't be the last, so Dean's ready to spring back to his feet as soon as the wing finishes whooshing over his head. He's not a second too soon with getting back up, either, because the archangel is moving forward, holding a polished- if bloody- silver blade in one hand.

Sam's up at the same time, and quicker to take aim than Dean, which is lucky, since it's that that makes the angel stop in his tracks. Sure, the bullets aren't likely to kill an angel, but with the Enochian engraving on them, they'd hurt like hell and keep him from being able to run.

“Drop it,” says Sam in his best intimidating voice, with a gesture at the blade.

The archangel seems to consider his options for a moment, likely determining the odds of getting shot if he doesn't listen. He apparently decides the odds are a little too high, because he lets go of the blade and it clangs against the concrete.

It's one of those funky triangular things that are really too short to be a sword, but too long to be a knife that only angels know how to make. That's likely on purpose, since they're one of the few things that Dean knows of that will kill an angel without the help of death spells being carved into it...

But Dean ignores both the blade and the archangel in favor of looking at the second angel. He assumes this is Castiel, which is rather funny, because he's seen him before.

“Oh, you're kiddin' me... You?”

Not long ago he'd been rooting for this very angel to escape, and now he's under orders to bring him back. Yeah, the universe is having a laugh with this one.

The angel recognizes him, if the look on his face is anything to go by. Not that Dean gets to see it for very long, because as soon as he addresses Castiel, the archangel's wing extends and blocks him from view, like some sort of feathery shield.

“Well, I guess they got someone after us quicker than I expected,” says the archangel. Gabriel, if Dean had heard correctly. His tone is a mix of mockery, amusement, and annoyance.

Castiel effectively shielded from his sight, Dean turns his attention to Gabriel, and actually looks at him. He's shorter than both Sam and Dean- not that it's hard to manage that- with medium-length light brown hair. His entire being screams trouble, arrogance, and mischief and the scar around his throat, partially hidden by his jacket collar speaks to a less than ideal past. And while his tone may have been a mix of things, the look he gives the brothers speaks to nothing but the fact that he would likely be ripping them to pieces right now if he could, and he would probably be enjoying it.

“I wasn't expecting you chuckleheads to show up so early. Either the company's been hiring better goons lately, or I'm getting sloppy.”

Before Dean can come up with some sort of witty reply, Gabriel's wing gets shoved out of the way, and Castiel is visible again. Able to get a better look at him this time, Dean sees he's still got his collar on and he's bleeding pretty heavily from his shoulder. And they're back to the staring. At least he's not glaring this time.

Dean stares right back, and he almost wants to congratulate the angel on pulling off an escape. Gabriel shifts, then, and the rustle of his feathers pulls Dean's attention away from Castiel, and back on to the job they're supposed to be doing. He starts to speak, to tell Sam to go ahead and shoot Gabriel- something non-fatal, like the leg, just something to keep him down- so one of them can go get the truck, they can get the angels back to H&H and get this over with. But he catches Castiel's gaze again and finds himself reluctant to actually say it. So he doesn't.

He sees Sam fidget out of the corner of his eye and he knows they really should be getting down to business here. They caught the angels off guard, and if they screw up now, they may not catch them again, so he should really just get on with it so their weekend can go back to going as planned.

Only, Dean doesn't really want too. Or at least, the part of him that had been hoping Castiel would escape doesn't. His logical side says to get the angels in the truck and just get this done, but the rest of him isn't listening very well...

It would be easy to just walk away and let them be. He and Sam could call Becky on Monday and tell her that the angels escaped, they saw them get out of the city, and that would be the end of it.

But Castiel is injured and still in his collar. He's not going to be able to fly with a shoulder wound like that, and if he tried he'd just make himself bleed to death faster. As Gabriel had said, he won't heal while the collar is on, negating most of his superhuman abilities... They wouldn't make it out of the city. Not Castiel, anyway.

Fuck, why does he have to care? His job would be infinitely easier if he didn't give a shit, like the rest of the general population. If he didn't occasionally risk his job to assist in an escape, or to provide a mercy killing. But as he's pointed out before, those were special cases, cases of constant abuse in just about every form. Who's to say what will happen to these two? Who's to say what sort of person or people Castiel was being sent to, or who might take Gabriel?

Which is sort of the point, isn't it? Who's to say that in a few months, Dean won't find himself tracking either of them down again, and find that they've been living in hell? That would be on him. And, once again meeting the vibrant blue eyes staring at him, Dean finds he doesn't like the thought of that spirit the angel clearly has being dampened and extinguished the same way that so many others have...

Shit. Dean sighs, and mutters several curses under his breath before he lowers his gun. “Sam, go get the truck.”

“...What're you doing?”

“Somethin' stupid. Go get the truck. You two, don't try anything and we might be able to get you out of here.”

“...Did I miss something, here?” Gabriel asks, while Castiel tilts his head in a great impression of a rather confused cat. “You should be trying to capture us, and I should be killing you right now.”

“Well if that's how you'd like this to go, we're happy to shoot you, and take you back to H&H, get you fitted with a new collar and everything.”

Gabriel visibly deflates a bit at that, and Dean knows a struck nerve when he sees one.

“You sure about this?” Sam asks, gun still trained on Gabriel.

“Not really.”

“Okay. You alright if they-”

“If either of them tries anything, I'll shoot them. Don't worry, I'm good. Now hurry up and get the truck.”

Sam lowers his gun and heads out, even though it's obvious that he really isn't comfortable with this arrangement.

The angels are looking at Dean like he's suddenly sprouted a second head. Which, maybe he has, he doesn't know. This certainly ranks up there with some of the stupid stunts he's pulled in his life. And he's not even entirely sure why he's doing it. It's crazy, risking his job for these two. More than his job, really, since what he has in mind is likely to constitute as theft, and of some very very expensive property at that. H&H has no tolerance whatsoever for thieves.

“Okay, so this is all really fun, but what the hell is going on?” Gabriel speaks up once Sam is out of sight.

“I've gone insane, is what's goin' on,” Dean mutters under his breath, before addressing the angels, “We're helping you out.”

Gabriel studies him for a moment, “You don't actually expect me to buy that, do you? I mean, come on.” As he speaks, he starts to inch towards where his blade lies on the ground.

“Gabriel,” Castiel reaches forward and grips the archangel's wing, the same way a human might grip another's shoulder to silence them. “Let him explain.”

Dean has to admit, his voice is kind of awesome.

Gabriel looks from Castiel, to Dean, shrugs more with his wings than his shoulders, and waits.

And how the hell is he supposed to explain that he doesn't even know what he's doing, or why, but that it just feels like the right thing to do? Because he wouldn't buy that if he were in their position. He would assume it was some sort of trap, and would be thinking of a way to get out of it. Hell, he can practically see Gabriel thinking up ways to kill him and get away...

“Look, believe me or don't, I don't really care. But me and Sam were planning on heading out of town in the morning, and that's your best bet of getting past the wards... Or we can leave you here and you can try to get out on your own, but he,” Dean points at Castiel, “won't make it out with the collar still on, and you'll be lucky to get it off without killing him.”

“And you're just going to help us? Just like that?” And if that isn't the most skeptical tone Dean's ever heard, it's damn close. “Okay, we'll pretend I believe you. Why?”

“I'm feeling charitable. Are you gonna let us help, or not?” He glances at Castiel, who's starting to look a little worse for wear. “I can get his collar off.”

That gets their attention. Gabriel looks like he's going to continue to protest until Castiel grabs his wing again. They look at each other for several moments, and there seems to be some sort of silent conversation- or argument, rather- going on between them. It isn't until Dean hears the engine of the truck outside, then Sam's shoes scuffing on the floor as he approaches that Gabriel sighs and lets his entire body sag.

“The things I do for family...”

Castiel glares- and Dean's glad that for once it seems to not be directed at him. “Today excepted, I fail to recall when you've ever done anything for me, Brother.”

Gabriel flinches and looks ashamed of himself for a moment.

Dean gets the impression that there's a really interesting story behind the bitterness in Castiel's voice and Gabriel's cringe, and he's curious about what that story might be, but he doubts he'll be getting it out of either of them.

“So... What exactly are we doing?” Sam asks, stopping next to Dean.

“We're helping,” says Dean, knowing that's not what his brother wants to hear. “Unless you have any objections.”

Both angels turn their gazes on Sam, Castiel looking tired, and maybe a little hopeful, and Gabriel just daring Sam to try to argue. He'd probably enjoy the excuse to try and kill them...

But Sam just sighs, gives Dean a look that says 'we're talking about this later', and says, “What's the plan then?”

The plan is simple: get the angels back to the apartment, get the collar off Castiel and his wound cleaned up, then smuggle them out of the city in the morning, when they head out to take Bobby's truck back. Simple. Or so Dean thinks, right up until he tells the angels that plan, and Gabriel balks at getting in the back of the truck, with all the sigils painted on the inside. Dean really can't blame him there, but it's still reluctantly that he uses his knife to scrape away a bit of the paint that makes up the most powerful symbols, thus negating their power. Gabriel still refuses until he's made a great show of retrieving the blade he'd dropped, and stuffing it in his jacket.

The drive to the apartment is stressful. Partially because Dean's got the horrible feeling that he's missing something, and partially because Gabriel insists that the window between the cab of the truck and the back be open, and he's half leaning into the cab, just hovering there and practically breathing down Dean's neck.

Dean doesn't doubt that if he even made one turn that even looked like it might head back in the direction of H&H, Gabriel would waste no time in choking the life out of him. But he still can't blame him.

“So who are you muttonheads, anyway?” the archangel finally asks, after a good ten minutes of absolute silence. He seems to be addressing Sam more than he is Dean.

“Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean.”

“And you're helping us because?”

“Because we can,” says Dean. “Now shut up, and keep an eye on Castiel.” Saying the name feels awkward, too long, too formal, and if he wasn't sure that he would never see either of these featherbrains again after tomorrow morning, he'd probably be thinking of a nickname right now. But he won't be seeing them again, so he'll stick with the awkward.

“'Because' is not a satisfactory answer, human,” Gabriel snaps.

“Yeah, well, deal with it, pint-size.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam tense up suddenly, and he's wearing his 'shit, Dean's running his mouth again' bitchface. It's not entirely uncalled for; with no collar and none of the sigils working, Gabriel could have them dead before they could blink, and making fun of him probably isn't the best way to stay alive.

He doesn't see it, but he can hear the quiet rustle of feathers, and he knows Gabriel's are likely puffed up in an angelic show of annoyance- or anger. Dean's sure that the feather-ploofing is supposed to be intimidating, but all it's ever really accomplished for him is giving him a good laugh at the ridiculousness of it. It's probably best that he manages not to laugh this time, especially considering that just because Gabriel hasn't killed him yet doesn't mean that he won't if provoked further.

But for now there seems to be no killing going on, so Dean at least tries to relax- as much as he can with that feeling that he's missed something important nagging at him- and focus on the road.

It takes Sam a little while longer to stop giving both Gabriel and Dean sideways glances, like he's still afraid there's going to be a bloodbath at any given moment.

The rest of the trip is almost painfully silent and for the whole drive Dean tries to convince himself that he should be driving towards H&H instead of towards the apartment. But try as he might, he can't think of a good reason to do it. Or at least, not a good one that isn't “because we could get fired and/or arrested”, since he's already decided to ignore that one.

One he considers for a moment is “we don't know them and they would just as soon kill us if they didn't need us,” which is largely true, but then, Dean's hoping that saving Castiel's life and getting his collar off might go a long way to ensuring that there won't be any killing.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building he still hasn't come up with a reason that he shouldn't be doing this. Plenty for why this is a spectacularly bad idea, but none for why he shouldn't be doing it.

“This is it?” Gabriel snorts, contorting his neck in an uncomfortable looking manner to peer out the windshield better. Despite the dismissive words, Dean thinks there might be the barest hint of relief in there too. He'd probably been expecting an H&H office.

“Yeah, this is it,” says Sam, as he climbs out of the truck. “What were you expecting?”

If Gabriel responds, Dean doesn't hear him- and it probably would have been a lie anyway- as he's already out and heading for the back of the truck to pull Castiel out. He opens up the back, Gabriel practically teleporting out while Dean grabs Castiel and starts to help him out- it's more dragging than helping, since the angel is barely conscious now. He finds himself being shoved away a moment later with surprising force and it takes him a second to realize that Gabriel is standing where he had been, pulling Castiel out of the pool of his own blood and onto the pavement.

“I've got him,” the angel snaps.

Dean looks to Sam who just shrugs and heads up the stairs, then back to Gabriel, who's slung Castiel's arm over his shoulders and is following Sam. Dean shrugs himself and heads up to the apartment, pausing only when the proceedings are halted by Sam tripping on the top step and nearly waiting too long to catch himself again.

With everyone inside the apartment, Dean locks the door every which way he can, but he's still got that nagging feeling gnawing on his brain. He tries to put it out of his mind when he hears Gabriel asking where he should put Castiel.

Sam directs Gabriel to the kitchen- and the dining table- while Dean goes to dig his lockpicking tools out of his desk. He'd always told Ellen that eventually he'd find a use for them other than trying to sneak back into the house after curfew when he'd forgotten his keys. He didn't think it would involve illegally getting an angel out of his collar, though.

In the kitchen, Sam and Gabriel have gotten Castiel up on the table, and the latter is actually sitting up on the edge, albeit with Gabriel holding him up.

“Okay,” says Dean, and he swears all three of them jump. “I'll get the collar off first so he can start healing before he bleeds to death, then we can take care of the wound... What happened, anyway? Shot?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. Though I believe he was aiming for Gabriel.”

“It doesn't matter who he was aiming for, bro, you still got shot.”

“It's probably an Enochian engraved bullet then,” says Sam. “That'll slow the healing process, even once it's out.”

Gabriel's sour look suggests that he's already thought of this problem.

“Can we focus on getting out before we worry about the healing?” says Dean. “Sam, go find the first aid kit, I'll take care of the collar.”

Sam nods and disappears into the living room while Dean gets a closer look at the collar. Looking at the spells laid out in the metal, he wonders how in the hell Castiel is still even remotely himself at the moment. The spells for obedience and power negation are some of the strongest he's ever seen on a normal angel.

The usual safeguards against removal are the same, though; ones to prevent the wearer from being able to get it off, several more to prevent another angel or demon from being able to do it, and even a couple death spells, if the others are circumvented. But even the death spells can be gotten around if you have enough patience. Most don't, which is why it's rare that Dean and Sam have to track down collarless slaves, but it happens.

Still looking at the collar, Dean whistles. “Holy shit, dude. They've got everything known to man on this thing. How are you still functioning?”

“Just get the damn thing off,” Gabriel mutters from his place near the sink.

“No problem.”

And it isn't, because even with all the safeguards, there still isn't one to keep a human from taking the collars off. It's a design flaw Dean had occasionally considered pointing out, but is now glad for.

Sam comes back with the first aid kit just as the lock on the collar clicks and releases. Castiel reaches up with his usable arm and pulls it off, leaving just an angry red mark around his throat. He studies the hunk of metal and leather for a moment, then throws it aside in what would probably be a much angrier manner if he wasn't still bleeding all over the place. Speaking of which...

“Sam, need that kit, and a hand. Cas, this is probably going to hurt like a mother, so... try not to throw us across the room.” He really has no idea where 'Cas' came from, but it sounds a hell of a lot better than Castiel...

Castiel gives him a brief look of confusion at the name. “I'll do my best.”

Getting Castiel's shirt off is somewhat of a challenge, considering the wings, and in the end, Dean opts to cut it off rather than dealing with the mess of buttons in the back that allow for the garment to go around the extra appendages. It's not like it isn't completely ruined from all the blood anyway.

There isn't any throwing of the Winchesters across the room, but it takes Gabriel holding Castiel down to manage that little feat, because it turns out angels don't handle having bullets pulled out of them very well.

Getting the angel stitched up is a hell of a lot easier than trying to get the bullet out. Sam had been right, of course; the somewhat mangled slug is covered in Enochian symbols, and as long as they had to work their magic, it's likely going to be several days before the angel is completely healed, which means he's not likely to be ready to fly by morning... Which Dean is just going to remember is not his problem.

With Castiel patched up, they get him into the living room and on the couch where he promptly conks out, and Dean's sure he's gonna be that way for the rest of the evening.

Dean figures it's safe to leave Gabriel with Castiel, so he goes back to the kitchen to help Sam clean up the copious amounts of angel blood on the table and floor.

“Dude, what the hell are we doing?” Sam hisses, as soon as Dean kneels to clean up the floor.

Dean shrugs, and scrubs at the floor with a rag that's probably too dirty to really do any good. “We're doing the right thing. That good enough?”

“Yes, but if we get caught, we're screwed. Completely.”

“Yeah I know.”

“So what are we gonna do with them?”

“Take 'em with us when we head out to Bobby's tomorrow, get 'em out of the city. Beyond that, I dunno, but we'll think of something...”

“By 'think of something' you mean ask Bobby if he doesn't mind having some house guests until Castiel is healed, right?”

It hadn't actually crossed Dean's mind- he'd been focusing on a 'not our problem' train of thought, after all- but now that Sam mentions it...

Sam apparently sees the gears he's made turn, and sighs. “Bobby's not gonna be happy. What the hell are you even gonna tell him?”

Dean gives his brother a pointed look.

“Of course. You want me to do it.”

“You're better at making shit up.”

“I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but do you lumps have anything to eat in this place?”

Dean raises himself up enough to peer over the table so he can see Gabriel, who's leaning against the kitchen doorway, looking smug. He has the sudden urge to run to the fridge and defend it with his life, because angels eat a ton- another reason on Dean's really, really long list of reasons not to have one around- and there wouldn't likely be much left by the time they got done with it.

He's also yet to meet one that doesn't have some sort of sugar addiction, so it's likely that anything remotely sweet would be devoured first.

“You'll have to wait,” says Sam, and Dean would remind him of why they shouldn't be offering an angel food if said angel weren't right there. “We're a little busy right now. Unless you want to clean this up.”

Gabriel looks at the blood and the smug look disappears. “Thanks,” he says after a moment. “For helping Castiel. You probably saved his life.”

Dean snorts, 'cause there's no probably about it, and judging from Gabriel's expression, he knows it.

“I still don't trust you, but thanks.”

Dean's guessing that's as much as they're going to get in the way of gratitude. “No problem.”

“You're welcome,” says Sam.

“So, about that food...”



Dean avoids their feathered house guests as much as he can for the next several hours, though Sam keeps haunting the living room where Castiel is still sleeping and Gabriel is still hovering. He hears the occasional shout at Ruby about not attacking the feathers, but aside from that everything is pretty much quiet.

Sam goes to bed somewhat earlier than usual, and when he passes Dean's room, he's muttering to himself. All Dean catches of it is “annoying”, “arrogant”, and “asshole”, and he can only assume he's talking about Gabriel.

For his part, Dean can't even think about sleep- though he doubts Sam is sleeping- when there's an archangel in the place that still might kill them if they're not careful.

It's not too long after Sam retreats to his room that Dean leaves his own when he realizes he hasn't eaten anything all day, and that his stomach is seriously contemplating chewing through his spine.

He creeps down the hall towards the kitchen, skirting through the living room as quietly as possible in case the angels are asleep (or still asleep in Castiel's case). All the lights are out, so if they're up, they aren't bothering with lights. The dark doesn't hinder Dean's progress, at least. Sam would be tripping over things left and right- but he does that in the daylight too, so that's not really surprising- but Dean's got pretty decent night vision.

He's in the process of quietly searching the pantry and fridge for anything to eat when he hears the voices. He spends barely a second telling himself he shouldn't be so nosy before he decides to ignore that bit of advice, and creeps towards the doorway so he can hear better.

“-out of here while we can.” That's Gabriel.

“I see no reason to. They haven't shown any signs of turning on us.”

“Oh, like you'd know, Mr. Comatose.”

“If they had, you would have already killed them in some creative manner.”

There's a rustle of feathers after that that might be a shrug, then a long silence that makes Dean think maybe they've decided the conversation is over before Castiel speaks again. “Are you going to leave again, when we return home?”

There's no reply from Gabriel, just a harsh sigh that could have come from either of them, and when the silence continues, Dean decides they're probably done this time and goes back to searching for food.

While setting his findings on the table, he manages to drop a bag of chips. Grumbling to himself, he leans under the table to retrieve it.

“Hello, Dean.”

The only thing Dean's aware of after nearly jumping out of his skin is the fact that his head makes quite a loud bang when colliding with the underside of the table. And that it really frigging hurts.

After a yelp and several curses, Dean manages to stand without hitting his head again, and glares at Castiel, rubbing the spot that he can feel turning into a knot. “Son of a bitch, don't you make noise?”

“Not much, no,” is the matter-of-fact reply. “You were listening to Gabriel and I.”

Dean thinks for a moment what trying to deny it might get him, then decides that going for a change of subject might be better. “How's the shoulder?”

“Healing. Slowly. Gabriel doesn't trust you.”

“Yeah well, he's a dick.”

“I don't trust you, either.”

“Then why did you vote to stick around when you could just skip out while me and Sam are sleeping or something?”

“Because I think you may be our only way out of the city. And because you saved my life.”

Since he won't be bothering anyone by doing so, Dean goes ahead and flicks on the kitchen light before returning to the table. “You're welcome for that, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

There's silence while Dean fixes a sandwich and tries to ignore the fact that the angel is staring at him again. The silence continues until Dean finally asks something that's been bugging him since he'd met Castiel and Gabriel. “So you and the dick... What's up there? I heard you call him 'brother' earlier, but he's-”

“He's my elder brother.”

“... But he's an archangel. Last time I checked, there is a difference between them and you.”

Castiel pulls a loose feather from one wing, and hands it to Dean. Up close, Dean can see that it's not the pure black it looks like from a distance. The over-all color is black, but the edges and tip are a very dark blue that nearly blends in with the black. Only archangels have that particular type of coloring, but in Dean's experience, it's always white edged in another color.

“Gabriel is my half brother. Our mother is an archangel, as was Gabriel's father. Mine was not.”

Which explains why all the spells on the collar hadn't worked very well on him. He'd needed something more keyed to an archangel to keep him under control. It also explains the brief flashes of intense over-protectiveness that Gabriel had shown; he was looking after his baby brother, the same as Dean would.

Dean leaves the feather on the table and grabs his sandwich. Though instead of retreating to his room like he had originally planned, he leans against the sink next to Castiel. They spend a while without saying anything, and Dean's sure the silence should be awkward, but somehow it's comfortable.

It isn't until Dean decides it's time to head to bed that Castiel speaks again. “Why did you help us? Why take the risk?”

Dean shrugs, “It was the right thing to do... And between us, I was hoping you'd escape anyway.”

The angel tilts his head and seems to consider that for a moment before giving his own wing-shrug. “I suspect there is more to it than that. But very well... Goodnight.”

“Night, Cas.”

There's that nickname again, slipping out without any forethought. Castiel gives him the same puzzled look he had earlier, but he makes no comment about it, so Dean just heads back to his room, nearly bumping into Gabriel on the way. Dean wouldn't be surprised if the angel had been eavesdropping.

Gabriel mutters something unintelligible as Dean goes past- probably an insult- then joins his brother in the kitchen. Dean watches the doorway for a moment, then goes into his room and shuts the door. They'll have to head out early tomorrow. May as well get as much sleep as he can, while he can.



The bright numbers on the alarm clock tell Dean that it's 2:15 am when he gets dragged out of sleep by the banging coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the living room... Probably from the door. He blinks for a moment, trying to make his vision focus properly, and the banging starts up again.

He rolls over, trying to decide whether to see what's going on or go back to sleep, and sees that his bedroom door is open. It's open and there's someone standing there. Someone that isn't Sam, and for a moment, Dean forgets about the stray angels they picked up and nearly dives for the gun in the drawer of his bedside table.

“Someone's here,” says a rough, deep voice that reminds Dean of the fact that he and Sam aren't alone in the apartment. “...Someone from H&H.”

Dean had been about to tell Castiel to ignore it and let whoever it was go away, since no one Dean wants anything to do with shows up at two in the goddamn morning, but the second part of the sentence brings that idea crashing down.

“I-... You're sure?”

The shadowy form in the doorway nods.

“Shit. Alright, I'll get rid of them.”

“How?”

“I don't know, I just will. Gimme a second.”

Since he hadn't bothered to take his jeans off earlier, he just grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head. After a moment of consideration, he grabs the gun from the bedside table,and tucks it into the back of his jeans, tugging his shirt over it to hide it.

In the hall, Dean sees Sam peering blearily out his bedroom door. “Hell's goin' on?”

Dean starts to explain, but a new round of knocking starts and he decides Sam can come see for himself. In the living room, Gabriel is standing statue-still near the TV, glaring at the door, not even paying attention to the fact that Ruby is on the floor beside him, chewing on the end of a feather that's still attached to his wing.

There are mutters coming from the other side of the door when Dean unlocks it that go silent when he opens it- not all the way, just enough to see who's out there. Unfortunately that turns out to be Zachariah Adler... And Gordon Walker... And two very big demons. Awesome.

“Hello, Dean,” Zachariah says, with a bright, and absolutely evil grin on his face. “Mind if we come in?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, I do. It's two in the friggin' morning. Go away.” He does his best to sound just groggy and grumpy and not like he's starting to panic, because if Gordon's here, that means Gordon was probably following them the previous afternoon- he knew he'd been missing something- and has probably already told Zachariah what he saw...

He starts to close the door, but a quick snap of the fingers from Zachariah and the demons step forward to shove hard at it, sending the door flying open and Dean stumbling back until he collides with the back of the couch- which, by the way, really hurts.

“Well, well, well,” says Zachariah as he steps into the apartment. “I honestly wasn't sure if I should believe Mr. Walker, but it would appear he was correct.

Gordon follows Zach, looking incredibly smug, and Dean has the overwhelming urge to hit him.

Sam's in the living room now, still looking half-asleep and more than a little confused. Gabriel's still near the TV, but now Castiel has joined him, and they've both got their feathers puffed. Before Dean even realizes what he's doing, he's put himself in between the invading group and the angels. Sam joins him a second later.

Some part of his mind tells him that he's being stupid, and this is a crazy thing to do, but he's already done it, so it's too late now.

Zachariah chuckles at them. “Oh come on now. Don't be stupid, boys. You've already lost your jobs, but if you just let us have them, we might not throw you in prison for theft.”

Gordon looks entirely too happy about that prospect. Goddamn stalker must have thought it was a sign from God when he saw where Sam and Dean had taken the angels...

“Oh, we're not going anywhere with you clowns,” Gabriel says.

“Quiet,” says Gordon. “You weren't being spoken too.”

Zach ignores them and keeps his focus on Dean and Sam. “What's it gonna be, boys? The angels are going with us one way or another, but it's up to you whether you go too...”

Dean glances at Sam, then back at Zachariah, Gordon, and the demons, weighing their options. Unemployed and not in prison is certainly a more appealing option than being both unemployed and imprisoned...

He actually starts to move aside for a moment. Just enough that Gordon moves forward and gestures for the demons to follow him. As Gordon walks past, Dean catches a glance of Castiel. The angel's expression is a mix of resignation, disappointment, anger, and hurt, and damn if it doesn't make Dean feel like the biggest asshole on the planet... The look is still there, even once both Gabriel and Castiel tense up for the fight that's sure to come, and Dean finds himself trying to decide whether to help or leave things be yet again...

God damn it, why does he have to give a shit?

Fuck it, he thinks (again), reaching around and pulling the pistol from his jeans. He sees Sam's shocked look just as he slams the grip in to the back of Gordon's head. The man drops like a bag of bricks, and somehow over his own internal chorus of 'we're fucked, we're fucked, what the hell am I doing, we're fucked' Dean hears Zachariah shout an order at the demons. He doesn't hear what the order is, but he doubts it's anything good.

He doesn't give the demons the chance to fulfill their orders before he has the gun aimed steadily at Zachariah's head. They stop, either out of concern for their master, or enjoyment of seeing him held at gun point... It doesn't really matter, so long as they're not doing what they were told to do.

“Tell them to get out of here,” says Dean, nodding at the demons.

Gabriel looks at the heap that is Gordon. “Not bad, for a human.”

Sam, meanwhile, is still looking shocked. “Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

“Something stupid. Again. Hey, Zach! I said tell the goons to get lost. Now.”

Zachariah gives him a loathing glare, before he turns to the demons. “You two, get back to H&H. And tell-”

But the demons take the first opportunity to vanish in the clouds of black smoke that are their wings, and they don't hear the rest of the order. Dean's guessing that was intentional.

“Whoops. No warning bells set off for you,” says a cheerful Gabriel.

Castiel is remaining quiet, but when Dean looks at him, he can see the gratitude written clearly on the angel's face. He'd damn well better be grateful, because Dean's pretty sure he's just fucked everything up with this stunt.

“It doesn't matter,” says Zach. “You're still not getting away with this. You boys have really fucked up this time... I've been forced to look past your little attempts at charity before, but even Lucifer and Michael can't overlook this one.”

Dean thinks he should be more surprised than he is at the revelation that not only do Michael and Lucifer know, but so does Zach. What's surprising is that the bosses had been forcing Zach not to do anything about it... Which is a mystery for another day, because right now they need to get the hell out of here so Dean can explain this moment of epic insanity to Sam before he does something drastic.

“Sam, if you could find something to knock him over the head with, that'd be great...”

Sam starts to speak just as Zachariah starts up with protests, but Gabriel cuts him off. “Allow me,”he says, at which point he promptly introduces Zachariah's face to his fist.

Zach joins Gordon on the floor.

Which leaves Sam and Dean with two unconscious H&H employees on their living room floor and two demons back at the company building who will have to tell what happened the moment someone gets suspicious and orders them to. Which will be sooner rather than later, if anyone knew where Zachariah and Gordon were going.

...And why in the hell had they showed up at two in the morning? Dean almost wishes he'd thought to ask that while Zachariah was still conscious.

“Okay,” says Sam. “We're so, so screwed.”

“Yeah, I know, Sammy.”

“Dean.” When Dean turns, Castiel is right in front of him, and he thinks a conversation about personal space might be in order. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet. There's no telling when someone else is gonna show up.”

“Then maybe we should, y'know, get out of here,” says Gabriel. “Just an idea.”

“We've gotta get a few things together first,” says Sam, and Dean's surprised he's not balking at leaving.

Regardless, Dean nods at his brother and runs to his room to start throwing any clothes he can find into a duffel bag, along with the assortment of weapons he uses for Hunting. Or had used for Hunting, now, he guesses. God, what the hell has he gotten himself into? There's no way any of this is ending well, not in a million years... And all because goddamn Castiel had just looked at him. Well, partly because goddamn Castiel had just looked at him.

Heading out of his room almost at a run, he nearly collides with Sam coming out of his own room, half-open bags slung over his shoulders.

“You sure about this?” Sam asks, shoving a shirt that's trying to fall out back into his bag and zipping it the rest of the way.

“What the hell else are we gonna do? We can't stay, Sam. Zach and Gordon aren't gonna forget it and move on, and someone's eventually gonna wonder why the demons are back, but they aren't...”

“I know, I know. But, Jesus, Dean, what the hell? You said it yourself, they're not gonna forget this; we're completely fucked right now. Probably forever.”

Dean had been trying not to think about the “forever” part...

“If you morons are done moaning about how screwed you are, can we go?”

Gabriel's at the end of the hall, trying to look casual, but still-puffed feathers betray his anxiety. Castiel's behind him, and pretty much unreadable aside from the same case of ploofed feathers.

“We're coming,” says Sam.

“Too bad we already screwed ourselves over,” Dean mutters. “We could have handed him over, at least.”

Sam snorts. “We? You're the one who decided to do something incredibly stupid for a pair of sad blue eyes.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Please do,” says Gabriel.

Dean flips the angel off and heads for the door, grabbing the truck keys on his way. He hears Sam behind him, until he mutters “one more thing” and his footsteps cease. Dean's about to turn to see what his brother could have forgotten, when he hears a grumpy yowl that sounds suspiciously like Ruby when she's protesting to being touched in any way, shape, or form.

“Oh no, you're not taking that hell-spawn with us,” Dean groans.

“I'm not leaving her here,” Sam protests, shoving past Dean who has to move away before Ruby can hook her claws into his sleeve. “If you get to get us fired and practically sign our arrest warrants yourself in the same day, I get to bring my cat. She's going. Deal with it.”

Dean sighs -and he's pretty sure one, or both of the angels do the same- before following his brother.

Neither Gabriel nor Castiel are exactly happy about having to get into the cramped space that is the back of the truck, but there's not much of a choice since there's not room for either of them in the front- not with the big ass wings- and it's probably best if they're not seen on the way out of the city anyway. Especially not when they go past the guard stations.

The only purposeful breaks in the wards around the entire city that keep angels and demons in (and out) are on the main roads out of the city, so that people traveling with their slaves can come and go as they please. There are weak points, but since the last batch had been fixed, Dean doesn't know where any of them are. Besides which, weak doesn't equal non-existent.

None of them speak on the way out of the city, except for Sam's occasional pleas with Ruby to 'please stop with the happy claws in sensitive areas'.

They go past the guard post without a hitch, not that Dean had really expected any. The guards are really just to keep angels and demons from sneaking in or out, anyway.
Out of the city, Dean takes the most out-of-the-way route he can, heading for the only destination he can think of; Bobby's.

Aside from a few attempts at jokes from Gabriel, the trip continues to be a quiet one, until some time around four am when a chorus of yawns start up. Mostly from Dean and the angels, since Sam is already unconscious in his seat, with his head propped at an odd angle against the window.

Dean's starting to have difficulties staying awake himself. He's not quite to the 'stop now, or die in a ditch' stage, but he's getting close. He knows this area well, though, and there's a small town not too far away. If he remembers correctly there's a cheap motel on the outskirts that'll at least give them a place to sleep...

By the time they actually reach the motel, Dean's eyes are starting to disobey his orders to stay open at all, and a snore from the back tells him that at least one of the angels is out.

“Hey, Sam!” He grabs Sam's shoulder and gives him a good shake. When Sam finishes his flailing- during which Ruby gets knocked out of his lap- he says, “Need you to go get us a room.”

“Wha- why me?”

“'Cause you've spent the past hour sleepin' and I'm about to pass out. Go.”

Sam gives him a bleary-eyed glare before he gets out of the truck and heads to the office. There are a few confused noises from the back when the door shuts, before Cas asks, “Where are we?”

“Where we're stoppin' for the night. I need to sleep.”

“And where exactly are we going?” Gabriel mumbles, shoving his head through the window, into the cab. “I'd love to just take off and leave you guys, but I can't exactly ditch my brother...”

“We're gonna go to my foster dad's place in Sioux Falls...” Bobby's gonna kill them for this, Dean knows it. He doesn't think Bobby will refuse to let the angels stick around for a couple of days though, which is all Castiel needs before he can take off.

“And he can be trusted?” Castiel shoves his brother aside so he can see Dean.

“Yeah, he can. Don't worry, he won't turn us in.”

He ignores any other questions or protests they may have in favor of leaning against the door and letting himself drift off while he waits for Sam. Or he would be, if Ruby wasn't trying to kill his leg...

He's almost asleep- despite the cat burying her claws in his flesh even through denim- by the time Sam returns with a room key, looking like he's about to fall over himself.

The room is probably horrifying, but Dean doesn't really notice when they walk in. His only concern is the fact that there is a bed, and now he can sleep. Two beds actually. Which sort of presents a problem. One that gets solved pretty quickly when Castiel and Gabriel both settle onto the one furthest from the door without any argument (aside from a mumbled 'keep your wings on your side' from Gabriel and a retort in Enochian from Castiel).

Sam shrugs at Dean and they settle into the second bed. It isn't the first time they've had to share, and Dean doubts it will be the last.

Still, Dean feels the need to say, “Don't hog the covers... and keep your cat off of me.”

“I'm not the one who hogs covers,” Sam mutters, lifting the blankets so Ruby can slip under, and curl around his feet.

“Yeah right,” is all Dean manages, before much needed sleep claims him, and for a while he doesn't have to think about just how many ways they're screwed or wonder how the hell they're going to get out of this mess...

That's what tomorrow is for.



NEXT PART