Revolt Chapter 8: You Can Make This World What You Want
Title: Revolt
Author: safiyabat
Artist: stormbrite
Characters & Pairing(s): Castiel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Meg
Rating: M
Word Count: 39,134 / 4,688 (chapter)
Warnings: Past non-con (not described, but it exists.) Violence. Consent issues involving possession.
Summary: Will backup arrive in time?
Castiel tried to stand firm in the face of the threatened onslaught, but only Sam’s bulk behind him kept his trembling hands from becoming visible to the masses. “I should have suspected you would turn traitor eventually, Castiel,” Zachariah sneered, “but I never expected you would sink so low as to order the death of a brother at the hands of a renegade.”
“Oh, Cas didn’t order Junkless’ death,” Dean smirked back. “He didn’t have to. New rule, asshat. You even think about touching my baby brother, you die. Got it?”
Raphael’s lip curled. “Do you honestly believe that we need to even acknowledge that a mud monkey has opened its mouth? You have a destiny, Dean Winchester, and it isn’t tied to that piece of filth that slipped out of your mother’s well-used loins. You are our property, to do with as we see fit, and -“
Dean snarled, and raised the Jewel of Lot. Zachariah had the good sense to duck, and most of the other angels followed his lead. Raphael, though, he had never been anything but arrogant, especially when it came to humans. Castiel supposed that he couldn’t bring himself to believe that a human could have such an item in his possession, or that one could wield it. Whatever the cause, the mighty archangel Raphael, physician of Heaven, froze in place with a shout as a bright green light shot forth from the jewel. The comely, dark-skinned body he’d built for himself thousands of years ago crackled as it was transformed into a pillar of salt, right before the eyes of the gathered crowd.
“Well,” smirked Gabriel. “We’ll never want for venison again.”
Zachariah’s face twisted into a rictus of hate as he stood up. “You’ll pay for that, you hairless monkey!”
An angel near the middle of the crowd produced a bow from somewhere - it could have been anywhere, really. He drew back the string and let the arrow fly. As the projectile arced through the air, a ball of flame attached itself to the sharp head. It found its home not in Dean’s heart - he was too quick for that - but in his shoulder.
The fight was on.
Dean went down with a groan, and Castiel rushed to heal him. The magical barrier kept the enemy out, but they’d anticipated such a tactic and had resorted to the weapons of those they believed to be beneath them. Castiel should have expected that; he should have known that Zachariah was not above such tactics.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grunted, rising to his feet.
Sam stood on the walls, gold eyes a beacon even in the semi-darkness of twilight, and gestured at an angel. The cambion’s face already glistened with sweat, but that didn’t stop him from twisting his hand into a complicated gesture. The angel he’d targeted gasped and clutched at his chest and then fell to the dusty ground, Grace fluttering wildly before the charred imprints of his wings spread out onto the ground.
Dean picked up his bow, and behind him the rest of Hunter Legion picked up bows as well. Castiel frowned. “What are those intended to do? Weapons made of wood and iron cannot harm an angel.”
Balthazar’s eyes lit up. “They can if you soak them in holy oil,” he declared. “Watch this.”
The Hunters unleashed a barrage of arrows upon the angels, and every single arrow found a target of angel-animated flesh. The angels glanced at each other, unaware of any problem. That was when Meg snickered and threw her hands out wide over the gathered enemy. Flames appeared as if from nowhere, igniting the oil-soaked shafts and making the enemy scream aloud in agony. Some of the angels fled their vessels, escaping through the mouth in bright blue shafts of light to return to Heaven and rebuild. Others died where they stood, screaming so loudly that the few trees in the area burst into flame and the humans had to cover their ears.
In the distance, Castiel saw two ominous black clouds, approaching from opposite directions. Demons. Hopefully one of them meant Abaddon’s reinforcements. Unfortunately, one of them was almost certainly Lucifer’s band.
Zachariah cried out an obscenity and launched himself at the gates to the city, which repulsed him with a flash of green light. The seraph was launched backwards onto his rear end, an undignified position for anyone never mind an angel obsessed with his position and status. When he rose, he flew away. He returned a moment later with a massive machine. “Catapult,” he sneered. “No magic, no tricks, just a nice little toy that will tear those walls down.” He pointed at the siege engine, and the thing loaded and aimed itself. “Of course, I do have certain advantages.”
Sam killed another angel with nothing but the power of his mind. The effort left him panting and gray in the face. “We can’t take a lot of hits from one of those,” he said in a low voice to Castiel and Dean. “I’m going to take it out.”
Meg punched him in the arm. “You can’t go out there, Sam! The whole point is that they want you out there and on the other side of the wards!”
“Meg is right,” Castiel told his lover. “We cannot risk you.”
“We can’t risk losing Haven’s physical walls either!” Sam slapped the crenellation in front of him. “They’re not built for that, and as soon as the angels leave, even if they leave Haven standing after all of this, demons will come and take advantage! Lilith’s band is still out there, Crowley’s people are out there -“
Castiel stopped his mouth with a kiss. “Sam. We aren’t risking you. Nothing is worth losing you.”
Gabriel’s eyes bulged. “I did not see that coming. Okay. Well. One dead catapult, coming up.” He squinted at the catapult, snapped his fingers, and the machine shattered into a thousand pieces.
Sam glared at him for a moment. “You couldn’t have said something before my sister punched me?”
“Aw, Sammy got a boo-boo?” the archangel mocked. “Save it, pal.”
Zachariah’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Gabriel. The archangel waved. “You look familiar.” He snorted at Castiel. “You can try to thwart us with this motley crew of renegade demons, half-breeds and pagan scum. But you won’t win, Castiel. This fight is our Father’s wish. You can’t stop it. And that… vile creature you’re so fond of, he isn’t yours to play with. He belongs to Lucifer, created for him in fact, and believe me when I tell you that he is very well used.”
Sam tilted his head to the side. “Can I kill him?”
“I kind of want first dibs, Sammy.” Dean prepared an arrow.
“He’s a traitor to Heaven and to God.” Castiel drew his blade. “I think I’d like to handle him.
“He’s a smarmy dick. Why don’t we all have a little fun?” Meg smiled a sweet smile and whistled.
A low baying sound filled the air. Dean flinched.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “So much posturing.” He extended a hand, and Zachariah started to burn. The stench was terrible, worse than human flesh, and Castiel knew that was because Gabriel was making Zachariah’s Grace burn along with his vessel. It was the worst kind of death, the kind of thing that angels only heard about in hushed warnings when one’s behavior was in danger of crossing a line that could not be uncrossed. He’d never seen it happen before.
He hoped to never see it happen again.
“I wasn’t just our Father’s messenger,” Gabriel said when it was finished. “I was the Archangel of Judgment, too, if you’ll recall.” His eyes flared, amber lights in the darkness for just a moment. “He was a traitor. It was the kind of death that he deserved. He could never have been redeemed, you know.”
The remaining angels had stopped in their paths, milling about in confusion now. “What have you done?” one cried. “Who are you?”
Gabriel sighed. “I think the better question is who are you? You already know that I’m an archangel; I’m not Michael, I’m not Raphael and I’m sure as Hell not Lucifer.” He chuckled at his own pun and produced a piece of rock candy on a stick to suck on.
“My name is Hannah, sir. Why did you kill Zachariah in that way? He was following our Father’s orders!”
“No. He wasn’t. Our Father hasn’t been in Heaven since, oh, about the time Lucifer got the boot. He hasn’t called the shots in a very, very long time. Zachariah lied to you all. I don’t know how far up it goes, if he duped Raffy or if Michael’s involved. But you know, deep down in your hearts, that the orders you’ve been given have been the opposite of what our Father wanted from us. Don’t you?”
Another angel stepped forward. “But they were orders!”
“Shut up, Hester,” Hannah ordered. “Our brother is right. We should have recognized that the orders were against our Father’s will. We are angels, not brainless automatons.” She dismissed her blade, leaving herself empty handed. “We have been misled. I will not fight against Haven, nor will I participate in this fruitless attempt to displease our Father by warring with Lucifer.”
“Nor will I.” Castiel recognized the speaker as Samandriel. “I ought to have spoken up when the kill order against Castiel came down. I didn’t understand it, and I should have questioned further. I was afraid.”
Slowly but surely, the remaining angels lay down their arms. Castiel gaped in amazement. When he turned to look at his fellow angels, he saw similar expressions on their faces. “I can’t believe that worked,” Gabriel muttered. “I was kind of going for a distraction while you guys shot more of them.”
“Good to know.” Sam glowered at him, but didn’t raise his voice.
“I am glad that you are no longer hostile,” Castiel smiled at the defectors. “I must ask you now: what is your intent? Will you return to Heaven, and take up the cause against corruption there? Or will you defend the humans of Earth?”
“If I may,” Balthazar interrupted, clearing his throat, “We do have the slight problem of Lucifer and his people, who are arriving as we speak.”
Castiel had almost forgotten about them, but the first of the demonic clouds was upon them. The stars seemed to fade out as the cloud overtook the sky, but they returned as the cloud sank to the ground and solidified into bodies. Hundreds of bodies, all with blackened eyes and snarling faces.
And at their head: Lucifer. His vessel had been built as a tall, sturdily built man, with short blond hair and a cruel twist to his mouth. “I see I’m just slightly late to the party,” he said. His tone was even, almost soft, and Castiel could almost mistake the coldness underneath it for calmness and indifference. “I hope we haven’t missed all of the festivities; otherwise we’ll have to make our own.” Icy blue eyes surveyed the scene. “Raphael seems to have been misplaced.”
The angels outside the barrier did not bother to hide the sheer terror on their faces. Castiel didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have. “Leave, Lucifer,” he ordered, from his position of safety behind the barrier. “Go forth from this place and trouble the people no more. There is nothing for you here.”
The archangel scoffed. “You think to give me orders? I appreciate your audacity, Castiel, but really, don’t you think that’s a tad premature?” He gestured, and Hester’s vessel exploded. “The angelic side of this equation might have been cancelled out, but Haven has something that belongs to me and I won’t leave unless I have it back.”
Meg was hiding underneath the crenellations, shaking uncontrollably. Castiel squeezed her shoulder. “Nothing belongs to you, Lucifer,” Castiel told him. “And no one belongs to you.”
“Samael,” Lucifer continued, as though Castiel hadn’t spoken. “Come out here, right now, and return to your place at my side. There will be consequences if you resist.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face that of an indulgent parent being presented with a recalcitrant toddler trying to avoid bedtime.
“Oh what, you mean like there won’t be if he does?” Dean prepared another arrow.
“That won’t work on him,” Gabriel hissed, face pale.
“Why not?” the hunter hissed back.
“Archangel,” Sam told his brother, eyes on the one claiming ownership over him. “There isn’t much that can take on an archangel. A knight of Hell and another archangel’s blade, that’s about it.”
Gabriel bit his lip. “I’ve got an idea,” he murmured. “It’s risky.”
“It’s all risky,” Balthazar pointed out. “It’s Lucifer.”
“Alright, valid. But it means that Sammy here’s going to have to trust me. And I mean, really trust me.”
Castiel felt Sam tense beside him. “Is it the only way to stop Lucifer?” his lover asked.
“Unless you’ve got a knight of Hell in your back pocket, yes.” Gabriel smirked. “And I notice that skirt you’re wearing doesn’t have pockets.”
“We do have one on the way,” Meg told them, glaring at Gabriel.
“Great. They can help if they get here before he figures out what we’re doing. Okay, Sam, this is going to hurt. Meg, cover us.”
Gabriel cradled Sam’s face with his hands. A golden halo surrounded both for a moment, and then Gabriel slumped back against the wall. “Alright.” Sam stood up, face no longer gray and no longer trembling from exertion. “I know what we need to do. Whatever happens, don’t let the gate back down until you see Lucifer dead with your own eyes. Got it?” He fixed all three conscious angels with his eyes.
“Wait, what?” Dean asked, even as Castiel reached out for his lover.
“Sam, no.”
But it was too late. Sam climbed to the top of the parapet, stood for a moment, and then jumped. He didn’t plummet to the ground, however, but floated gently to the parched and hard earth beneath. His eyes, Castiel noticed, had gone yellow.
“There’s a good little abomination,” Lucifer said, watching with that same cold little smile as Sam walked across the small expanse of space to the ultimate fallen angel. “It was very naughty of you to run away, Samael. You’ll need to be punished, but I’m sure you knew that already.”
Sam bowed his head. “Of course, Master.” He sank to his knees. “Whatever you see fit, Master.”
Lucifer stared down at Sam for a moment, and then he clenched his fist. Sam cried out as pain shot through his tall, muscular body. The demons with Lucifer laughed, but their leader silenced them with a gesture as Sam’s body jerked around the ground and blood streamed from his nose. After a good five minutes had passed, in which no one on the Haven walls dared to move, Lucifer released Sam. “That will do for now, until we return to camp. I am very displeased with you, Samael.”
“I know you are, Master.” Sam lay in his place for a moment, collecting his breath. Then, he struggled to his feet. No one moved to help him. Even the angels stayed frozen in place.
The other cloud had almost arrived. Castiel still couldn’t tell which demonic tribe it was - Abaddon, Lilith, Crowley or other, he had no way of knowing.
“I have a message for you, Master. From the city - from the inside.” Sam still wasn’t breathing well, and blood welled up at the corner of his mouth before he wiped it away. “From your brothers.”
Lucifer’s lip curled. “Which brothers would those be? It seems to me your little friends turned one of them into a pillar of salt and the other one is too busy looking at mirrors up in Heaven to be bothered.”
So - Michael hadn’t been involved with this conspiracy. He’d allowed it to happen, though. Castiel shuddered away from the implications. He shuddered away from the broken way in which Sam’s body was moving, too, even though he forced himself to watch.
“It’s going to be okay, big brother.” Sam’s mouth curled into a smile, but his eyes flashed amber just for a moment and an archangel’s blade appeared in his hand. It almost looked too small for his huge hand with its long, elegant fingers, but he made it work. “It’s all going to be okay.” He stabbed up and into Lucifer’s chest.
To say that Lucifer was surprised by this act of violent rebellion would be an understatement. His eyes bulged, and his mouth moved without sound. Then, his grace exploded in his vessel, creating a blast wave that knocked all in its path backward. The imprint of all of his wings would never leave the earth.
Gabriel’s vessel woke up with a start. “Wow. That was not fun.”
Dean rounded on him. “What the hell was that?”
“I just stabbed my older brother?” Gabriel blinked and brushed at some dirt that only he could see. “Castiel, you’d better take good care of that kid. He’s not well.”
“You possessed him?” Meg cried.
“You so don’t get to complain about that,” Dean growled.
“You left him out there?” Castiel challenged Gabriel.
“He didn’t give me much choice!” Gabriel leaped to his feet and rushed over to the wall. “He kicked me out as soon as that blade went in. Didn’t want me in there a second longer than necessary.” His face softened. “Not that I can blame him, I guess.”
Out on the field, the demons had processed what had happened to their lord and circled around Sam. The angels attacked, and they were effective as they worked, but there were only about forty angels to the thousands of demons encircling the young cambion.
Sam, of course, was not without resources of his own. One demon near him collapsed in a shower of orange light, then another, and another. Sam was fighting. Meg’s hellhounds, too, jumped into the fray.
The other cloud arrived, demons solidifying on the opposite side of the field from the angels. At their head stood a tall, red-haired female demon, clad in black leather and carrying an axe. The demons with her snarled, barely resembling anything human at this point, and charged without a word from their poised commander.
Castiel turned to the others. “I’m getting Sam out.” He flew into the middle of the fight, where he could still see the flashes of light that heralded the death of a demon.
Sam was still alive, but how long that would remain the case remained to be seen. He seemed to be upright through force of will more than anything else, and staggered with each blow that came in. Castiel felt a stone blade shatter on his armor and a claw rip through his forearm, but these were of no moment to an angel; he picked up his lover and flew back to the safety of the city walls, where he lay the young man down where Gabriel had only recently been propped.
“Sammy?” Dean knelt by his brother’s side, fight outside the walls forgotten. “Sammy, talk to me. Come on, man. You can’t go, not like this.” He grabbed Sam’s hand.
Sam’s eyes were already glazing over. “Dean.” He squeezed the hand in his. “I’m glad.”
“Gabriel.” Castiel turned to the archangel. “Please.”
The prodigal sighed. “He’s pretty bad off, Cassie. Is there someplace we can bring him?”
Balthazar nodded. “He shouldn’t have a problem with the wards and if he does, well, he can tell you how to fix it.”
Castiel gathered Sam to his chest, not caring about the blood. Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel flew them to Balthazar’s cave.
Gabriel didn’t bother with a lot of niceties once they were there. He simply lay Sam out on the floor and put his hands on his chest. “That’s a lot of blood, kiddo.” He closed his eyes and concentrated while Castiel backed away.
He’d wanted to be the one to heal Sam, if it had been necessary, but he knew that the man was beyond what his own powers allowed. Still, the fact that someone else got to heal Sam rankled. Perhaps Sam would prefer a partner of greater power than Castiel. Perhaps he would love someone whose affections were not divided, someone to whom he owed his life. Someone who had helped him to eliminated his most hated tormentor.
He should be out there on the walls anyway, or out among his brethren fighting hand-to-hand against the tribe that Lucifer had led. If Sam chose Gabriel over him, he wouldn’t fight. Sam deserved the best, after all.
He moved to leave the pair alone, but Gabriel stood up and snapped his fingers. The blood disappeared from his own clothes and from Castiel’s. Sam’s destroyed garments he simply replaced with a soft purple tunic. “Cassie, I can see the thoughts tumbling around in your head. Stop. You’re the one that saved his life, okay?”
Castiel stared at Gabriel for a moment, uncertain. Then he looked away, preferring to devote his attention to his lover. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
“He lost a lot of blood. I was able to heal his wounds,” the archangel explained, leaning back on one of Balthazar’s piles of cushions. “It wasn’t easy, but I managed. I couldn’t replenish his blood supply; that’s something that only time can do. I could just manage to keep his organs functioning. And then there’s the whole getting possessed by an archangel thing - I honestly don’t know how he was still functioning after I pulled out of him, never mind able to fight demons.” He shook his head. “He’s a strong kid.” He tilted his head. “So. You and him, and you and Meg, huh?”
“I love them. I love them both, and they love each other.” He squinted at Gabriel, daring him to disapprove.
Gabriel did not. “Hey, man. I’m in no position to judge. Think Big Brother’s going to be so keen on the idea, though?”
Castiel sat beside Sam and put Sam’s head into his lap. “I couldn’t say. He has to know that I would never want to hurt Sam, though.”
“Big brothers aren’t always the most rational when it comes to things like that. I’m going to head back out to the front. We should be okay. Without Lucifer, the demons should be pretty easy pickings, between the angels and Abaddon’s tribe. Still, someone should be out there directing traffic. You stay here and keep an eye on Sam.” He flew away.
Castiel moved Sam back to the bedroom Balthazar had assigned them the day before, tucking his unconscious partner beneath the covers before hesitating, shucking his armor and joining him there. Gabriel had given permission for this, right? He could lie here with Sam, hold him and be with him.
He had never thought of himself as the type of angel that offered comfort, if indeed such a thing existed. He was a warrior of Heaven, brought into being to serve God with sword and Grace. Sam, however, seemed to derive something from his presence that the angel hadn’t been designed to give. His breathing became more even, more comfortable. His brow smoothed out, and when Castiel reached an arm around him his entire body relaxed into the touch.
After two hours, Meg joined them. “The fight is over,” she informed, crawling under his other arm and laying her head on his chest. “We won.”
He kissed the top of her head. “This must have been a very difficult day for you.”
“I still loved him,” she admitted. “Even after. I mean, I wasn’t going to go back, not after everything I saw, not after what he did to Samael. Sam. But I still - I guess I hoped that something could be done for him, that he could get better.”
He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “I think, on some level, we did too. I mean, if what Gabriel said is true then even my Father regretted his exile. But in the end, Lucifer was going to destroy humanity.”
“I know.” She buried her face in his chest and fell silent for a while.
Sam woke about an hour later, still groggy from blood loss but alive. His first act was to pull Castiel in for a kiss. “Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered. “I know I didn’t deserve it.”
Meg flicked the tip of his ear with her fingernail. “Don’t even start that,” she ordered, climbing over Castiel to kiss her brother on the forehead. “I’m proud of you, Sam. You saved the world.”
A prayer from Dean flashed across Castiel’s consciousness, peppered with impatience and obscene language. “Sam, your brother wishes to speak with you. With us, apparently. Are you prepared for that?”
Sam raised himself into a sitting position. “I’d like to see him,” he said with a shy little blush.
Castiel admitted the eager hunter, who strode in with a pale face until he saw his brother’s eyes open and alert. “If you ever scare me like that again, Sammy -“
“You’ll kill me?” Sam smirked.
Dean glowered, then he returned a smirk of his own. “I’ll make you survive on Bobby’s cooking for a week.”
“Dean, that’s cruel and unusual punishment!” Sam squirmed and tried to hide under the covers. “So not fair!”
Dean beamed. “Then we have an understanding.” His face grew serious. “Sam. Now that the battle is over, we need to talk about what happens next.”
Sam bit his lip, and Castiel squeezed his hand. “I can go, Dean, I don’t want to interfere with what you’ve got going on here.”
Dean reached out and flicked the tip of Sam’s other ear with his fingernail. “That’s about enough of that. I just got you back, Sammy. All these years I’ve been without you, and I’ve finally got you back. You think I want you to go again because of a few bigots? They saw what you did. They saw you fight. They saw you all fight. Meg too. They saw everything we all did. If they want to say something about you now, I think the rest of the city is going to run them out on a rail.”
“They’re seriously going to let a demon, and a half-demon, stay in the city.” Meg looked up at him through her lashes. “Give me a break, Dean.”
“It’s for real. There’s even a place for you. Well, us.” He shifted. “I thought we could maybe fix up that old bath house. I talked to Gabriel about it. He thought it would be a good place for a ‘den of debauchery,’ which sounds awesome when he’s not talking about my little brother.”
“Wait - you want to stay with us?” Sam blinked.
Castiel shared his doubt. “Hunter Legion has always been nomadic. Your father was quite insistent.”
“Yeah, well, Dad made some mistakes.” A glimmer of pride surged through Castiel when only a tiny muscle twitched in Dean’s jaw at that. “One of them cost me over a decade with my little brother. And I am incredibly proud of my little brother. So what do you say?”
Sam looked to Castiel and to Meg. “Are you guys okay with this?” he asked. “I don’t want to make decisions that affect you without, you know, asking you first.”
“You’re the one that sleeps at night,” Meg teased. “Although I’m okay with sharing some space with Dean-o if he’s okay with sharing with creepy old things like me.” She smiled sweetly at him.
Dean returned the smile. “I think we can come to an accommodation.”
Thanks to the assistance of Gabriel and Balthazar, renovations to the old bathhouse didn’t take long at all and before long the family was able to move into their opulent new home. The domestic arrangement raised some eyebrows among the humans, who doubtless imagined far more was going on than there was, but it worked for their family.
Back to Chapter Seven -- Back to Masterpost
Author: safiyabat
Artist: stormbrite
Characters & Pairing(s): Castiel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Meg
Rating: M
Word Count: 39,134 / 4,688 (chapter)
Warnings: Past non-con (not described, but it exists.) Violence. Consent issues involving possession.
Summary: Will backup arrive in time?
Castiel tried to stand firm in the face of the threatened onslaught, but only Sam’s bulk behind him kept his trembling hands from becoming visible to the masses. “I should have suspected you would turn traitor eventually, Castiel,” Zachariah sneered, “but I never expected you would sink so low as to order the death of a brother at the hands of a renegade.”
“Oh, Cas didn’t order Junkless’ death,” Dean smirked back. “He didn’t have to. New rule, asshat. You even think about touching my baby brother, you die. Got it?”
Raphael’s lip curled. “Do you honestly believe that we need to even acknowledge that a mud monkey has opened its mouth? You have a destiny, Dean Winchester, and it isn’t tied to that piece of filth that slipped out of your mother’s well-used loins. You are our property, to do with as we see fit, and -“
Dean snarled, and raised the Jewel of Lot. Zachariah had the good sense to duck, and most of the other angels followed his lead. Raphael, though, he had never been anything but arrogant, especially when it came to humans. Castiel supposed that he couldn’t bring himself to believe that a human could have such an item in his possession, or that one could wield it. Whatever the cause, the mighty archangel Raphael, physician of Heaven, froze in place with a shout as a bright green light shot forth from the jewel. The comely, dark-skinned body he’d built for himself thousands of years ago crackled as it was transformed into a pillar of salt, right before the eyes of the gathered crowd.
“Well,” smirked Gabriel. “We’ll never want for venison again.”
Zachariah’s face twisted into a rictus of hate as he stood up. “You’ll pay for that, you hairless monkey!”
An angel near the middle of the crowd produced a bow from somewhere - it could have been anywhere, really. He drew back the string and let the arrow fly. As the projectile arced through the air, a ball of flame attached itself to the sharp head. It found its home not in Dean’s heart - he was too quick for that - but in his shoulder.
The fight was on.
Dean went down with a groan, and Castiel rushed to heal him. The magical barrier kept the enemy out, but they’d anticipated such a tactic and had resorted to the weapons of those they believed to be beneath them. Castiel should have expected that; he should have known that Zachariah was not above such tactics.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grunted, rising to his feet.
Sam stood on the walls, gold eyes a beacon even in the semi-darkness of twilight, and gestured at an angel. The cambion’s face already glistened with sweat, but that didn’t stop him from twisting his hand into a complicated gesture. The angel he’d targeted gasped and clutched at his chest and then fell to the dusty ground, Grace fluttering wildly before the charred imprints of his wings spread out onto the ground.
Dean picked up his bow, and behind him the rest of Hunter Legion picked up bows as well. Castiel frowned. “What are those intended to do? Weapons made of wood and iron cannot harm an angel.”
Balthazar’s eyes lit up. “They can if you soak them in holy oil,” he declared. “Watch this.”
The Hunters unleashed a barrage of arrows upon the angels, and every single arrow found a target of angel-animated flesh. The angels glanced at each other, unaware of any problem. That was when Meg snickered and threw her hands out wide over the gathered enemy. Flames appeared as if from nowhere, igniting the oil-soaked shafts and making the enemy scream aloud in agony. Some of the angels fled their vessels, escaping through the mouth in bright blue shafts of light to return to Heaven and rebuild. Others died where they stood, screaming so loudly that the few trees in the area burst into flame and the humans had to cover their ears.
In the distance, Castiel saw two ominous black clouds, approaching from opposite directions. Demons. Hopefully one of them meant Abaddon’s reinforcements. Unfortunately, one of them was almost certainly Lucifer’s band.
Zachariah cried out an obscenity and launched himself at the gates to the city, which repulsed him with a flash of green light. The seraph was launched backwards onto his rear end, an undignified position for anyone never mind an angel obsessed with his position and status. When he rose, he flew away. He returned a moment later with a massive machine. “Catapult,” he sneered. “No magic, no tricks, just a nice little toy that will tear those walls down.” He pointed at the siege engine, and the thing loaded and aimed itself. “Of course, I do have certain advantages.”
Sam killed another angel with nothing but the power of his mind. The effort left him panting and gray in the face. “We can’t take a lot of hits from one of those,” he said in a low voice to Castiel and Dean. “I’m going to take it out.”
Meg punched him in the arm. “You can’t go out there, Sam! The whole point is that they want you out there and on the other side of the wards!”
“Meg is right,” Castiel told his lover. “We cannot risk you.”
“We can’t risk losing Haven’s physical walls either!” Sam slapped the crenellation in front of him. “They’re not built for that, and as soon as the angels leave, even if they leave Haven standing after all of this, demons will come and take advantage! Lilith’s band is still out there, Crowley’s people are out there -“
Castiel stopped his mouth with a kiss. “Sam. We aren’t risking you. Nothing is worth losing you.”
Gabriel’s eyes bulged. “I did not see that coming. Okay. Well. One dead catapult, coming up.” He squinted at the catapult, snapped his fingers, and the machine shattered into a thousand pieces.
Sam glared at him for a moment. “You couldn’t have said something before my sister punched me?”
“Aw, Sammy got a boo-boo?” the archangel mocked. “Save it, pal.”
Zachariah’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Gabriel. The archangel waved. “You look familiar.” He snorted at Castiel. “You can try to thwart us with this motley crew of renegade demons, half-breeds and pagan scum. But you won’t win, Castiel. This fight is our Father’s wish. You can’t stop it. And that… vile creature you’re so fond of, he isn’t yours to play with. He belongs to Lucifer, created for him in fact, and believe me when I tell you that he is very well used.”
Sam tilted his head to the side. “Can I kill him?”
“I kind of want first dibs, Sammy.” Dean prepared an arrow.
“He’s a traitor to Heaven and to God.” Castiel drew his blade. “I think I’d like to handle him.
“He’s a smarmy dick. Why don’t we all have a little fun?” Meg smiled a sweet smile and whistled.
A low baying sound filled the air. Dean flinched.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “So much posturing.” He extended a hand, and Zachariah started to burn. The stench was terrible, worse than human flesh, and Castiel knew that was because Gabriel was making Zachariah’s Grace burn along with his vessel. It was the worst kind of death, the kind of thing that angels only heard about in hushed warnings when one’s behavior was in danger of crossing a line that could not be uncrossed. He’d never seen it happen before.
He hoped to never see it happen again.
“I wasn’t just our Father’s messenger,” Gabriel said when it was finished. “I was the Archangel of Judgment, too, if you’ll recall.” His eyes flared, amber lights in the darkness for just a moment. “He was a traitor. It was the kind of death that he deserved. He could never have been redeemed, you know.”
The remaining angels had stopped in their paths, milling about in confusion now. “What have you done?” one cried. “Who are you?”
Gabriel sighed. “I think the better question is who are you? You already know that I’m an archangel; I’m not Michael, I’m not Raphael and I’m sure as Hell not Lucifer.” He chuckled at his own pun and produced a piece of rock candy on a stick to suck on.
“My name is Hannah, sir. Why did you kill Zachariah in that way? He was following our Father’s orders!”
“No. He wasn’t. Our Father hasn’t been in Heaven since, oh, about the time Lucifer got the boot. He hasn’t called the shots in a very, very long time. Zachariah lied to you all. I don’t know how far up it goes, if he duped Raffy or if Michael’s involved. But you know, deep down in your hearts, that the orders you’ve been given have been the opposite of what our Father wanted from us. Don’t you?”
Another angel stepped forward. “But they were orders!”
“Shut up, Hester,” Hannah ordered. “Our brother is right. We should have recognized that the orders were against our Father’s will. We are angels, not brainless automatons.” She dismissed her blade, leaving herself empty handed. “We have been misled. I will not fight against Haven, nor will I participate in this fruitless attempt to displease our Father by warring with Lucifer.”
“Nor will I.” Castiel recognized the speaker as Samandriel. “I ought to have spoken up when the kill order against Castiel came down. I didn’t understand it, and I should have questioned further. I was afraid.”
Slowly but surely, the remaining angels lay down their arms. Castiel gaped in amazement. When he turned to look at his fellow angels, he saw similar expressions on their faces. “I can’t believe that worked,” Gabriel muttered. “I was kind of going for a distraction while you guys shot more of them.”
“Good to know.” Sam glowered at him, but didn’t raise his voice.
“I am glad that you are no longer hostile,” Castiel smiled at the defectors. “I must ask you now: what is your intent? Will you return to Heaven, and take up the cause against corruption there? Or will you defend the humans of Earth?”
“If I may,” Balthazar interrupted, clearing his throat, “We do have the slight problem of Lucifer and his people, who are arriving as we speak.”
Castiel had almost forgotten about them, but the first of the demonic clouds was upon them. The stars seemed to fade out as the cloud overtook the sky, but they returned as the cloud sank to the ground and solidified into bodies. Hundreds of bodies, all with blackened eyes and snarling faces.
And at their head: Lucifer. His vessel had been built as a tall, sturdily built man, with short blond hair and a cruel twist to his mouth. “I see I’m just slightly late to the party,” he said. His tone was even, almost soft, and Castiel could almost mistake the coldness underneath it for calmness and indifference. “I hope we haven’t missed all of the festivities; otherwise we’ll have to make our own.” Icy blue eyes surveyed the scene. “Raphael seems to have been misplaced.”
The angels outside the barrier did not bother to hide the sheer terror on their faces. Castiel didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have. “Leave, Lucifer,” he ordered, from his position of safety behind the barrier. “Go forth from this place and trouble the people no more. There is nothing for you here.”
The archangel scoffed. “You think to give me orders? I appreciate your audacity, Castiel, but really, don’t you think that’s a tad premature?” He gestured, and Hester’s vessel exploded. “The angelic side of this equation might have been cancelled out, but Haven has something that belongs to me and I won’t leave unless I have it back.”
Meg was hiding underneath the crenellations, shaking uncontrollably. Castiel squeezed her shoulder. “Nothing belongs to you, Lucifer,” Castiel told him. “And no one belongs to you.”
“Samael,” Lucifer continued, as though Castiel hadn’t spoken. “Come out here, right now, and return to your place at my side. There will be consequences if you resist.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face that of an indulgent parent being presented with a recalcitrant toddler trying to avoid bedtime.
“Oh what, you mean like there won’t be if he does?” Dean prepared another arrow.
“That won’t work on him,” Gabriel hissed, face pale.
“Why not?” the hunter hissed back.
“Archangel,” Sam told his brother, eyes on the one claiming ownership over him. “There isn’t much that can take on an archangel. A knight of Hell and another archangel’s blade, that’s about it.”
Gabriel bit his lip. “I’ve got an idea,” he murmured. “It’s risky.”
“It’s all risky,” Balthazar pointed out. “It’s Lucifer.”
“Alright, valid. But it means that Sammy here’s going to have to trust me. And I mean, really trust me.”
Castiel felt Sam tense beside him. “Is it the only way to stop Lucifer?” his lover asked.
“Unless you’ve got a knight of Hell in your back pocket, yes.” Gabriel smirked. “And I notice that skirt you’re wearing doesn’t have pockets.”
“We do have one on the way,” Meg told them, glaring at Gabriel.
“Great. They can help if they get here before he figures out what we’re doing. Okay, Sam, this is going to hurt. Meg, cover us.”
Gabriel cradled Sam’s face with his hands. A golden halo surrounded both for a moment, and then Gabriel slumped back against the wall. “Alright.” Sam stood up, face no longer gray and no longer trembling from exertion. “I know what we need to do. Whatever happens, don’t let the gate back down until you see Lucifer dead with your own eyes. Got it?” He fixed all three conscious angels with his eyes.
“Wait, what?” Dean asked, even as Castiel reached out for his lover.
“Sam, no.”
But it was too late. Sam climbed to the top of the parapet, stood for a moment, and then jumped. He didn’t plummet to the ground, however, but floated gently to the parched and hard earth beneath. His eyes, Castiel noticed, had gone yellow.
“There’s a good little abomination,” Lucifer said, watching with that same cold little smile as Sam walked across the small expanse of space to the ultimate fallen angel. “It was very naughty of you to run away, Samael. You’ll need to be punished, but I’m sure you knew that already.”
Sam bowed his head. “Of course, Master.” He sank to his knees. “Whatever you see fit, Master.”
Lucifer stared down at Sam for a moment, and then he clenched his fist. Sam cried out as pain shot through his tall, muscular body. The demons with Lucifer laughed, but their leader silenced them with a gesture as Sam’s body jerked around the ground and blood streamed from his nose. After a good five minutes had passed, in which no one on the Haven walls dared to move, Lucifer released Sam. “That will do for now, until we return to camp. I am very displeased with you, Samael.”
“I know you are, Master.” Sam lay in his place for a moment, collecting his breath. Then, he struggled to his feet. No one moved to help him. Even the angels stayed frozen in place.
The other cloud had almost arrived. Castiel still couldn’t tell which demonic tribe it was - Abaddon, Lilith, Crowley or other, he had no way of knowing.
“I have a message for you, Master. From the city - from the inside.” Sam still wasn’t breathing well, and blood welled up at the corner of his mouth before he wiped it away. “From your brothers.”
Lucifer’s lip curled. “Which brothers would those be? It seems to me your little friends turned one of them into a pillar of salt and the other one is too busy looking at mirrors up in Heaven to be bothered.”
So - Michael hadn’t been involved with this conspiracy. He’d allowed it to happen, though. Castiel shuddered away from the implications. He shuddered away from the broken way in which Sam’s body was moving, too, even though he forced himself to watch.
“It’s going to be okay, big brother.” Sam’s mouth curled into a smile, but his eyes flashed amber just for a moment and an archangel’s blade appeared in his hand. It almost looked too small for his huge hand with its long, elegant fingers, but he made it work. “It’s all going to be okay.” He stabbed up and into Lucifer’s chest.
To say that Lucifer was surprised by this act of violent rebellion would be an understatement. His eyes bulged, and his mouth moved without sound. Then, his grace exploded in his vessel, creating a blast wave that knocked all in its path backward. The imprint of all of his wings would never leave the earth.
Gabriel’s vessel woke up with a start. “Wow. That was not fun.”
Dean rounded on him. “What the hell was that?”
“I just stabbed my older brother?” Gabriel blinked and brushed at some dirt that only he could see. “Castiel, you’d better take good care of that kid. He’s not well.”
“You possessed him?” Meg cried.
“You so don’t get to complain about that,” Dean growled.
“You left him out there?” Castiel challenged Gabriel.
“He didn’t give me much choice!” Gabriel leaped to his feet and rushed over to the wall. “He kicked me out as soon as that blade went in. Didn’t want me in there a second longer than necessary.” His face softened. “Not that I can blame him, I guess.”
Out on the field, the demons had processed what had happened to their lord and circled around Sam. The angels attacked, and they were effective as they worked, but there were only about forty angels to the thousands of demons encircling the young cambion.
Sam, of course, was not without resources of his own. One demon near him collapsed in a shower of orange light, then another, and another. Sam was fighting. Meg’s hellhounds, too, jumped into the fray.
The other cloud arrived, demons solidifying on the opposite side of the field from the angels. At their head stood a tall, red-haired female demon, clad in black leather and carrying an axe. The demons with her snarled, barely resembling anything human at this point, and charged without a word from their poised commander.
Castiel turned to the others. “I’m getting Sam out.” He flew into the middle of the fight, where he could still see the flashes of light that heralded the death of a demon.
Sam was still alive, but how long that would remain the case remained to be seen. He seemed to be upright through force of will more than anything else, and staggered with each blow that came in. Castiel felt a stone blade shatter on his armor and a claw rip through his forearm, but these were of no moment to an angel; he picked up his lover and flew back to the safety of the city walls, where he lay the young man down where Gabriel had only recently been propped.
“Sammy?” Dean knelt by his brother’s side, fight outside the walls forgotten. “Sammy, talk to me. Come on, man. You can’t go, not like this.” He grabbed Sam’s hand.
Sam’s eyes were already glazing over. “Dean.” He squeezed the hand in his. “I’m glad.”
“Gabriel.” Castiel turned to the archangel. “Please.”
The prodigal sighed. “He’s pretty bad off, Cassie. Is there someplace we can bring him?”
Balthazar nodded. “He shouldn’t have a problem with the wards and if he does, well, he can tell you how to fix it.”
Castiel gathered Sam to his chest, not caring about the blood. Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel flew them to Balthazar’s cave.
Gabriel didn’t bother with a lot of niceties once they were there. He simply lay Sam out on the floor and put his hands on his chest. “That’s a lot of blood, kiddo.” He closed his eyes and concentrated while Castiel backed away.
He’d wanted to be the one to heal Sam, if it had been necessary, but he knew that the man was beyond what his own powers allowed. Still, the fact that someone else got to heal Sam rankled. Perhaps Sam would prefer a partner of greater power than Castiel. Perhaps he would love someone whose affections were not divided, someone to whom he owed his life. Someone who had helped him to eliminated his most hated tormentor.
He should be out there on the walls anyway, or out among his brethren fighting hand-to-hand against the tribe that Lucifer had led. If Sam chose Gabriel over him, he wouldn’t fight. Sam deserved the best, after all.
He moved to leave the pair alone, but Gabriel stood up and snapped his fingers. The blood disappeared from his own clothes and from Castiel’s. Sam’s destroyed garments he simply replaced with a soft purple tunic. “Cassie, I can see the thoughts tumbling around in your head. Stop. You’re the one that saved his life, okay?”
Castiel stared at Gabriel for a moment, uncertain. Then he looked away, preferring to devote his attention to his lover. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
“He lost a lot of blood. I was able to heal his wounds,” the archangel explained, leaning back on one of Balthazar’s piles of cushions. “It wasn’t easy, but I managed. I couldn’t replenish his blood supply; that’s something that only time can do. I could just manage to keep his organs functioning. And then there’s the whole getting possessed by an archangel thing - I honestly don’t know how he was still functioning after I pulled out of him, never mind able to fight demons.” He shook his head. “He’s a strong kid.” He tilted his head. “So. You and him, and you and Meg, huh?”
“I love them. I love them both, and they love each other.” He squinted at Gabriel, daring him to disapprove.
Gabriel did not. “Hey, man. I’m in no position to judge. Think Big Brother’s going to be so keen on the idea, though?”
Castiel sat beside Sam and put Sam’s head into his lap. “I couldn’t say. He has to know that I would never want to hurt Sam, though.”
“Big brothers aren’t always the most rational when it comes to things like that. I’m going to head back out to the front. We should be okay. Without Lucifer, the demons should be pretty easy pickings, between the angels and Abaddon’s tribe. Still, someone should be out there directing traffic. You stay here and keep an eye on Sam.” He flew away.
Castiel moved Sam back to the bedroom Balthazar had assigned them the day before, tucking his unconscious partner beneath the covers before hesitating, shucking his armor and joining him there. Gabriel had given permission for this, right? He could lie here with Sam, hold him and be with him.
He had never thought of himself as the type of angel that offered comfort, if indeed such a thing existed. He was a warrior of Heaven, brought into being to serve God with sword and Grace. Sam, however, seemed to derive something from his presence that the angel hadn’t been designed to give. His breathing became more even, more comfortable. His brow smoothed out, and when Castiel reached an arm around him his entire body relaxed into the touch.
After two hours, Meg joined them. “The fight is over,” she informed, crawling under his other arm and laying her head on his chest. “We won.”
He kissed the top of her head. “This must have been a very difficult day for you.”
“I still loved him,” she admitted. “Even after. I mean, I wasn’t going to go back, not after everything I saw, not after what he did to Samael. Sam. But I still - I guess I hoped that something could be done for him, that he could get better.”
He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “I think, on some level, we did too. I mean, if what Gabriel said is true then even my Father regretted his exile. But in the end, Lucifer was going to destroy humanity.”
“I know.” She buried her face in his chest and fell silent for a while.
Sam woke about an hour later, still groggy from blood loss but alive. His first act was to pull Castiel in for a kiss. “Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered. “I know I didn’t deserve it.”
Meg flicked the tip of his ear with her fingernail. “Don’t even start that,” she ordered, climbing over Castiel to kiss her brother on the forehead. “I’m proud of you, Sam. You saved the world.”
A prayer from Dean flashed across Castiel’s consciousness, peppered with impatience and obscene language. “Sam, your brother wishes to speak with you. With us, apparently. Are you prepared for that?”
Sam raised himself into a sitting position. “I’d like to see him,” he said with a shy little blush.
Castiel admitted the eager hunter, who strode in with a pale face until he saw his brother’s eyes open and alert. “If you ever scare me like that again, Sammy -“
“You’ll kill me?” Sam smirked.
Dean glowered, then he returned a smirk of his own. “I’ll make you survive on Bobby’s cooking for a week.”
“Dean, that’s cruel and unusual punishment!” Sam squirmed and tried to hide under the covers. “So not fair!”
Dean beamed. “Then we have an understanding.” His face grew serious. “Sam. Now that the battle is over, we need to talk about what happens next.”
Sam bit his lip, and Castiel squeezed his hand. “I can go, Dean, I don’t want to interfere with what you’ve got going on here.”
Dean reached out and flicked the tip of Sam’s other ear with his fingernail. “That’s about enough of that. I just got you back, Sammy. All these years I’ve been without you, and I’ve finally got you back. You think I want you to go again because of a few bigots? They saw what you did. They saw you fight. They saw you all fight. Meg too. They saw everything we all did. If they want to say something about you now, I think the rest of the city is going to run them out on a rail.”
“They’re seriously going to let a demon, and a half-demon, stay in the city.” Meg looked up at him through her lashes. “Give me a break, Dean.”
“It’s for real. There’s even a place for you. Well, us.” He shifted. “I thought we could maybe fix up that old bath house. I talked to Gabriel about it. He thought it would be a good place for a ‘den of debauchery,’ which sounds awesome when he’s not talking about my little brother.”
“Wait - you want to stay with us?” Sam blinked.
Castiel shared his doubt. “Hunter Legion has always been nomadic. Your father was quite insistent.”
“Yeah, well, Dad made some mistakes.” A glimmer of pride surged through Castiel when only a tiny muscle twitched in Dean’s jaw at that. “One of them cost me over a decade with my little brother. And I am incredibly proud of my little brother. So what do you say?”
Sam looked to Castiel and to Meg. “Are you guys okay with this?” he asked. “I don’t want to make decisions that affect you without, you know, asking you first.”
“You’re the one that sleeps at night,” Meg teased. “Although I’m okay with sharing some space with Dean-o if he’s okay with sharing with creepy old things like me.” She smiled sweetly at him.
Dean returned the smile. “I think we can come to an accommodation.”
Thanks to the assistance of Gabriel and Balthazar, renovations to the old bathhouse didn’t take long at all and before long the family was able to move into their opulent new home. The domestic arrangement raised some eyebrows among the humans, who doubtless imagined far more was going on than there was, but it worked for their family.
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