Fic: Rings of Enchantment (Chapter 4)
Chapter 4
Sam wakes to blue eyes staring at him, unblinking.
He jumps, slipping out - it’s a little unnerving.
“Sorry,” he says immediately, settling back under the covers with a reassuring smile. “Just surprised.”
Castiel shakes his head. “You’re beautiful,” he says again, and it still makes Sam blush. “And you smell very good. I enjoyed that very much. Can we do it again?”
Sam blinks as his brain catches up. “What, now?”
“Yes. Your way.”
“Oh. Oh uh… W-wow.”
A tilt of the head, disappointment. “You don’t want to?”
“No! I mean, yes, of course I do! It’s just… very sudden.” And now that the urgency of heat is gone, unexpectedly soon.
“Oh.” The angel lowers his gaze, pensive. “This is not common practice for humans then.”
“Not so abruptly, no,” Sam admits, scratching his head. “They kinda just-”
Cas looks up attentively, and he gently reels the angel in with a hand behind the neck.
“-like this.”
He kisses the other, unhurriedly this time, and Cas smiles, delighted, responding with enthusiasm and cupping Sam’s cheeks in his hands. Sam breaks the kiss for air, mouths his way down the angel’s jaw, and Cas tilts his head back to allow better access, breath hitching as Sam’s lips press to that spot.
“Why do you hesitate?” he asks as Sam moves away, and the witch freezes.
“Cas…” Sam breathes, meeting a blue gaze, conflicted.
The angel stills, again disappointed. “Do you not want to?”
“Of course I do, Cas. I’ve wanted to since… maybe that first kiss outside the library. But if I do, you’ll never be able to go home. An angel mated to an unsanctioned witch - it’s forbidden, isn’t it?”
Castiel scoffs, looking away. “I’m a traitor now, Sam. Treachery is… tricky, almost never forgivable. Unless there is proof that Zachariah’s goals were contrary to that of the Grigori and Heaven’s will, I can never return. Should I forego my mortal life’s happiness for that which may be lost forever?”
Sam flops onto the bed as the strength leaves his body, and he stares, flabbergasted. “Y-you knew that, and still-”
“There are worse fates than this, Sam.” The angel takes his hand, laces their fingers. “I have always been fascinated by humans and their ways. You are my Father’s finest creations, works of art. In ancient times, I often walked amongst you to observe, and when Father decreed the end of our active involvement in human lives in the seventh century, I joined the Grigori as the only exception to that law.” Cas turns to face him. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”
“Of course.”
“I... heard about the interrogations, the forced confessions, and I had questions, I had doubts, still do. Why resort to such methods when we could simply check as I did with you? I want to believe that the cause is just, that the stories are mere rumors. We are supposed to be your shepherds, not your murderers. Even the non-human criminals within our purview - we are to pass judgment upon them in the court of Heaven, not assassinate them. And yet…” The angel sighs. “I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, where I was mistaken, but I know that you are innocent and righteous. I won’t let any harm come to you.”
Sam is already shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this to protect me.”
“No,” Cas agrees. “That would be foolish. I am doing this because I reflected upon my anger after that first time and realized it was because I thought it a mere ruse. It confused me because w- I am not familiar with love that isn’t divine. Still, it is… easy to love you, Sam, though you constantly doubt your worth, and as my Grace wanes, I feel that love grow less divine still.”
“C-”
“If I loved you as I should, as an angel watching over a human charge, I would keep you from me because that is best for you even if it would hurt us both for a short time. Yet, I have welcomed you time and time again, though it endangers us both. Do you think me selfish, Sam?”
“What? Cas, that’s… I’m the one that keeps coming back! Dean thinks I’m crazy, Bobby calls me a lovestruck idjit, and I should probably be worrying about finals, but instead I- You tried to keep me out of this, remember?” he points out. “You didn’t make me walk to the library that evening.”
The angel bows his head for a moment, then looks up, accepting. “Whether our paths be fleeting or eternal, I pray they will never diverge. Earlier, you said your wish mirrors mine, so I ask you again, Sam Winchester.” He offers his neck once more. “Do you not want to?”
For a moment, he doesn’t quite remember how to breathe. Then, “Oh Cas,” Sam tangles the fingers of his free hand in dark hair, eyes shining. “It’s an honor.” He shifts to lie atop the other, their noses touching. “But you said my way; so- Ruusuja,” he murmurs with a smile, and suddenly, the bed is covered in rose petals beneath them.
Cas laughs and embraces him, then they’re kissing again, gently this time, before Sam nips his way down his lover’s jugular, licks at sweat-salty skin as Castiel’s breath and pulse quicken. The scent of ozone is now fainter still, and without it overwhelming his senses, Cas smells even more wonderful. He can hardly believe it, but the angel feels warm beneath him, beautiful and real, and he focuses on that as he bites.
It’s like a lightning strike.
The connection sears into place, so differently than how it was with Jess, so much more intense. He falls, and millennia pass in the blink of eye. Cas feels… incongruous, ancient and yet full of childlike wonder. At once, they are one and yet half, and he’s missed this, this connection, being mated.
“Claim me,” he murmurs, tilting his head.
Cas turns to him, confused. “Doesn’t it o-”
“What kind of commitment would it be if only one of us bears its mark?” Sam grins shyly. “Until I can get you a ring, let me at least have a matching bite.”
Here, Cas huffs a laugh and leans in obligingly. “I only care what is here,” he lays his palm flat over Sam’s heart, “but if it will make you happy.” Castiel’s teeth sink in, and Sam winces slightly as they draw blood. A rose petal is pressed to the mark when Cas pulls back. “I’d heal it, but there wouldn’t be a mark if I did.”
“I hope it scars,” Sam says with a smile, adoring.
It’s Cas who urges him to move, who tightens his hold and makes a sound of impatience. Cas, whose body feels strange and sensitive and for whom all of this is new. Sam hushes his angel - slow, he said, and he fully intends to savor this, to learn and explore.
He mouths his way down to worry a nipple with his teeth and tongue, lacing their fingers. He seems to have struck gold because Cas writhes beneath him, toes curling in the sheets, hand gripping his more tightly, the sound of his name almost a wail. He can smell more precome and slick with every flick of his tongue, and he’s sure Cas is going to come untouched - he can sense it now, through their bond - it’s gratifying. Switching over, he rolls the wet nub between his thumb and forefinger as he sucks on the other, and Cas covers Sam’s eyes with his palm as he cries out, surprised pleasure sparking across their connection.
Sam’s missed this so much.
The angel buries both hands in his hair and tugs up lightly, massaging his scalp when he obliges and capturing his lips again. It’s languid this time, slow, and it feels good, relaxing. Cas rolls them onto their sides, tugs his thigh over Castiel’s hip by the back of his knee to spread him open, and he pants between kisses.
“C-Cas…” He’s fully erect just from the press of fingers and the position.
One hand still buried in his hair, kneading his scalp lightly, the other trails blunt nails up his thigh to squeeze his ass, palms its way back down to straighten his leg and trace circles into the back of his knee. Tugging on his hair again, Cas varies the pressure, changes the path of his touch, dips into the creases, and every sensation seems to go straight to his cock, making it leak, making him whimper.
“You like this.” Castiel’s fingertips brush featherlight over his balls, and his hips jerk.
“Yes.” He turns to nibble on Castiel’s earlobe, trace the shell of the angel’s ear with his tongue. “Inside,” he whispers as Castiel’s fingertips tease at his entrance again. “Please.”
Jess discovered it, and between her and her vibrator, they had the best sex Sam’s ever had. He spent himself and then some, and they stayed in bed almost the entire weekend. He never got that far with Madison and Becky, but the siren reveled in the discovery, and as disastrous as that encounter was, the sex, at least, was phenomenal.
Cas presses in, finger slippery with- His nose tells him it’s Castiel’s own slick, and the thought is unbelievably hot. “Sh-shit, ah-ahhh…” Fuck, but he needs it, and he consciously relaxes, turns his face into Castiel’s hand, kisses the pulse point on the angel’s wrist.
When Cas adds another finger, he winces, so the angel returns to one, lets him get used to the intrusion. His insides clench with desire as it slides deeper. Cas has found it, presses into the spot, and he moans into dark hair, his fingers kneading their way down his lover’s back. Every slide over his prostate brings him closer to the edge, makes the trail of fine hairs brushing against his cock feel more intense as he leaks more precome onto Castiel’s abdomen. When a second finger is added this time, it doesn’t hurt, and when Cas splays his fingers experimentally, he reluctantly grabs the angel’s arm.
“Alphas have a long refractory time,” he explains sheepishly at Castiel’s questioning look.
The angel tilts his head. “Are you in a hurry to leave?”
“No, no, I just-”
“Then let me see.”
Oh.
“I can wait,” Cas adds, and it puts a stop to anything he might have said.
He lets go, locks his gaze with Castiel’s, and he’s sure that’s what does it. The crash of pleasure whites out everything but those blue, blue eyes, and then Cas is sucking on the tip of his cock, swallowing some of his seed, squeezing his knot, and his eyes clamp shut as he comes again, shouting the angel’s name. Cas keeps going though, and he can’t muster the coherence to tell the angel he’s going to be completely spent at this rate, but he’s also suddenly completely certain Cas doesn’t care.
He shivers as he comes down from it, and when he opens his eyes again, Cas is just running clean fingers through his hair with a fond smile. The angel is holding the book in his free hand, was probably reading it again until moments ago.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, hoarse and sheepish. He must have drifted off.
Cas shakes his head. “It was nice. Peaceful. Familiar.”
“Watching me sleep?” He grins, teasing.
Cas rolls to face him, mirroring the grin. “Yes.”
Taking a handful of the rose petals, he scatters them over his lover with a chuckle and pulls them over smooth skin in a caress. “That really is creepy, you know.”
“So I’m told.” The angel pecks him on the lips with a happy smile, uncaring. “I like your way.”
Sam turns him around to spoon him in a tight hug and nuzzle dark hair. “I like you.”
Cas makes a sound, at once contentment and desire, and Sam remembers suddenly that Cas said he’d wait earlier. So he nips his way down his lover’s spine, sweeps his hands over Castiel’s sides. He lingers at the small of Castiel’s back, sucks a mark into the skin there and turns his mate to lie face down. Cas writhes, and Sam slides off the bed to kneel on the floor, resting his arms on the back of Castiel’s knees to hold him still.
Here, the sweet scent is overwhelming, and if he could go again, he’d be hard just from the smell of it. Here, looking at how wet and ready his mate is as he traces circles up slick inner thighs, he can’t help licking a stripe up from behind the balls into velvet heat, and the taste of himself amid the sweet tang… this is something he’ll have to revisit someday.
“S-Sam…” Cas moans, canting his hips up and spreading his legs wider, wanton.
Fuck, he doesn’t know what he was expecting.
He runs the pad of his thumb over Castiel’s skin, parting the way, and traces the lip of Castiel’s entrance with his tongue. Cas keens into the mattress, even more slick flowing onto his tongue, and he can sense how close his mate is again - tension like a wire pulled taut running through Castiel’s frame and across their bond. Covering his eyes like Cas always does, he slips his tongue in and out rapidly, sucks on puckered skin, and-
“Agh-ahh!” Cas tightens around him with a sharp, shattered cry, sinks bonelessly into the mattress.
Sam kisses his way back up Castiel’s spine, climbing back onto the bed. The angel tenses a little when Sam reaches the skin between his shoulder blades, and Sam remembers - standing outside this house, his fingers tingling as they passed through majestic wings. He wants to touch them.
“Can I see?” he asks, knowing his mate will understand.
“...of course.” The hesitation makes him wonder, compels him to blanket Castiel’s body with his own and press his lips gently to the pulse point behind the ear.
“What’s wrong?”
Cas shakes his head. “They… They won’t be like they were that day.”
He runs his fingers soothingly through dark hair, sensing the upset.
“As my Grace wanes, they deteriorate,” Cas elaborates. “But… you should see them now. Before they are gone.”
He nods, focusing on them, and fits his palm between Castiel’s scapulae. “Propali.”
Cas gasps as his wings materialize. They are huge - Cas has to fold them to keep the tips from sweeping the corners of the ceiling, and the long feathers are downy soft on Sam’s skin. He can see signs of the deterioration though. The feathers are a dull black now, and there are broken, unkempt feathers in places. He gently strokes them, removing the broken pieces, and Cas groans softly in pain when his hands nudge the bones.
“They ache,” the angel explains, and beneath the feathers, he can see the skin looks bruised.
“Does this hurt?” he asks, rubbing gently in a circular motion. He wishes he had some kind of soothing balm he could use on them, but he doesn’t know of anything that would work in this case.
“A little, but no,” Cas sighs, relaxing. “Don’t stop. It feels better after.”
So he keeps massaging the angel’s wings, basking in the contented glow emanating from his mate, fits his hand between them to memorize their position. Cas sinks into sleep once more, and he’s glad. There’s nothing he can do to help, but if he can at least comfort Cas in any way, he’s glad. When he’s rubbed down the angel’s entire wingspan several times over, he makes sure he’s picked out all the broken pieces and smoothed the feathers out as best he can before dispelling the magic. Pressing featherlight kisses to where the now incorporeal wings are joined to Castiel’s back, he lies down beside his mate, pulls the covers back over them and picks up the open book beside Cas, curious.
As expected, he has trouble even telling the symbols on the pages apart. He keeps flipping through though, just to see, wishing he could magically understand Sumerian. The book isn’t very thick, maybe around seventy pages is Sam’s guess. Every page looks to have three paragraphs of text and what might be a page number at the bottom.
Hm? If those are page numbers, then maybe the paragraphs are numbered too. These symbols look similar. I wonder if it’s anything like in the movies.
Unexpectedly, Cas stirs beside him. It’s been an hour since the angel drifted off, at best.
“You need to rest a little longer,” he advises when his mate snuggles closer. Now, he doesn’t say.
Cas shakes his head. “What do you see?”
“Hm… Are these numbers?” The taps the page to indicate the symbols he means.
“Yes.”
“Are they in order?”
“No. But putting the pages or the verses in order doesn’t yield any sensible results. The page numbers are all in the thousands and don’t form any known number series either.”
“Perhaps it’s some kind of code? What if the page numbers are the key? Like…” He ducks his head, but, at the risk of sounding silly, presses on. “Well, there’s this show I watched once where the characters used a number code to communicate while undercover. Every number referred to a page, line and word in a book, so they would read 539 as page five, line three, word number nine, and putting those words together formed the hidden message.”
Blue eyes widen, and Cas takes the book from him, flips back and forth through the pages several times. Then he sighs, “The result doesn’t make sense,” visibly deflating.
Sam slumps, sinking into the bed. What are the odds, anyway?
Abruptly, Cas sits up. “Wait. What if-”
Then he’s out of bed and running down the stairs, and Sam is clueless, but he only picks up his boxer briefs and undershirt to put them on before heading down as well. His plaid shirt is where he left it on the bannister, and he takes it with him to where Cas is seated on the couch, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper on the coffee table. Although each day seems warmer than the last, the nights are still cool, and he drapes the much larger shirt over Castiel’s shoulders. Cas doesn’t even seem to notice.
Then, just as suddenly, Cas drops the pen. Turning to him, the angel grabs his face with both hands and kisses him emphatically. He responds, of course, but before he can catch his breath, Cas has pulled back an inch.
“We did it,” Cas says simply, a brilliant smile, and when Sam only blinks dumbly, triumphantly hands the witch the piece of paper he’d been writing on.
“Oh,” Sam manages finally as his brain catches up. He looks down at the piece of paper and reads, “To reveal the four seals of promise, let a triad of keepers join hands where Nanna can be seen in his full glory and repeat the following verse sevenfold:
“Our summon’s come; our trial’s near
The four shall come upon us here
We guardians five, our oaths fulfill
Covenants revive and fate unseal
The day has come for reckoning
The day has come; let judgment ring!”
“That’s translated, of course,” Cas explains, a hint of excitement. “I expect the spell will have to be read in Sumerian. Zachariah said three witches, so the witches are the keepers, and...” He trails off, eyes widening.
Then he jumps to his feet, shoves the book and the papers into a pile and sets the pile on fire.
“Wh- Cas!”
Sam leaps back, away from the flames, pulling Cas with him. “Why are y-?”
“This spell should never be cast. Never. It’s t-”
Just then, the refrain for K-Ci & JoJo’s All My Life starts playing, and Sam runs up the stairs to the landing where they’d left his jeans. It’s probably Dean wanting to know if he’s planning to return to the apartment that day at all. He catches it, just barely, as it slips out of the back pocket and answers.
“Hey!” It is Dean, of course. “I’m just-”
“Sammy?! Don’t y-”
“Hey, baby. You miss your doggy? ‘Cause he sure misses you,” an unknown female voice drawls. In the background, there are the sounds of a struggle, of Dean’s muffled voice, like he’s trying to shout through a gag.
Sam freezes. “Who are you, and what have you done with Dean?!”
“Oh, don’t sweat the small stuff, Sammy.” She chuckles. “You should ask me what I’m gonna do to Deanie-boy here if you don’t do as I say.”
“If you-”
Dean screams in pain in the background, and he stops, drops to sit on the dusty steps as a hole opens up in the pit of his stomach. A nightmare. This is a nightmare.
“Oops, can’t help myself. See, I’m just dying to rip his pretty, pretty face off. But...tell you what.” She drops her voice a little, as if they’re conspiring. “In three days, it’ll be the full moon. So go find yourself two friends, cast that spell, and you can have your pet back. What do you say?” she asks like he has a choice.
“H-how do I know you won’t kill him anyway?”
“Come on, Sam, you’d trust the guy who tried to arrest you, but not me?”
“Definitely.” She knows. She’s been watching them. He’s guessing it’s the woman Brady took orders from, maybe the same one he saw with Brady and Vice President Crowley that day.
“Aww, you sure know how to break a girl’s heart.” Still the same teasing drawl, still Dean’s muffled attempts to shout in the background. “Too bad you’ll just have to take your chances, hm?”
“No,” he says as Cas approaches, looking concerned. “We exchange. The book for Dean.”
She laughs. “You think I don’t know your boyfriend just burned it?”
“Then take me,” Cas says suddenly, grabbing the phone. “In exchange for Dean. I’m the only one on Earth who knows the spell now.”
“Wh- Cas?” No. No, he can’t-
“I understand.” The other hangs up then, breaking Sam out of his shock.
He lunges forward. “Cas!” Grabbing his mate by the shoulders, he shakes the angel. “What- How could- You c- I can’t let you!”
Cas steps forward to embrace him, sighing as he rests his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You want your brother back, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” He hugs the angel tightly, pressing a kiss into the crown of dark hair. “But you’re my mate, Cas. How could you think I’d trade you for him? You’re both just as important to me.”
“Do you have a better way? If only I hadn’t burned the book-”
That’s right. “Why did you?”
“It’s dangerous. The spell, it’s to unseal the Four Horsemen.”
Sam blinks. “The Four Horsemen?” Of the Apocalypse? “Like in Revelations?”
“Yes. Once unsealed, they can unseal Lucifer, and the Apocalypse will begin. The records say the four seals are guarded by four families, and the method to unseal them is guarded by a fifth. Since it seems witches are the keepers of the method, I must assume that the guardian families are also four different species of non-humans.”
“But why?”
It takes Cas a moment to understand the question. “Some demons probably want to unseal Lucifer, their creator. Others might want to use the rings’ powers for their own purposes. If the Grigori… perhaps they wish to purge the world. I don’t know.”
None of those sound good. If they save Dean only to die in the coming Apocalypse, what would be the point? “We can’t let that happen,” he decides.
“No,” his mate agrees. “Let’s try to find your brother.”
“You idjits! Why didn’t you just get the hell out of dodge when you had the chance?”
After trying every seeking spell they knew to no avail, Sam drove them to Bobby’s. Now, sitting in well-worn chairs and surrounded by the familiar smell of old books and motor oil, they’ve just finished explaining the situation to Bobby, who is, as expected, less than pleased.
Sam hangs his head. Alpha or not, Bobby is still the closest thing Sam has to a father. “We thought the danger was over.”
Bobby turns to Cas. “You knew better,” he states, pointing an accusing finger, and Cas nods.
“I did,” the angel admits.
Sam didn’t tell Bobby Cas was Grigori, but it seems Dean did - when he introduced Cas as his mate at the door, the Beta opened his mouth, shut it, searched the sky for patience and let them in with a frustrated growl. Sam is going to take that as a good sign. They have bigger things to worry about than the “of all people you could have chosen” conversation.
“Y-”
“He told me to stay out of it, Bobby,” Sam interrupts what he’s sure is going to be a tirade. “I didn’t listen. This is on me.”
“Damn right it is!” Bobby thumps the table as he rises. “Ain’t you got any good sense, boy?”
“I’m sorry,” Cas says quietly, blue eyes trained on the floor. “If I had only turned Sam away…”
“No.” Sam takes his hand and squeezes it. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that, Cas.”
Bobby grunts, turning to scan his bookshelf. “What have you boys tried?”
“Everything we know,” Sam answers, grateful they’ve moved on to the problem at hand. “Summoning, seeking, scrying - nothing works. Either they’re too far away for me to reach Dean, or they’ve used concealment or shielding spells. Maybe both.”
“Well, you’re missing the obvious.” Bobby sets a heavy tome down loudly upon the cluttered desk. “We know where they’ll be for the exchange tomorrow.”
“Not yet, we don’t,” Cas corrects with a frown. “She said she’d call again today.”
“Same difference. Point is we don’t need to look for Dean. We need to get you both out tomorrow.”
Just then, Sam’s phone rings. It’s Dean’s number, and he rushes to answer without letting his nerves bleed into his voice. “Hello?”
“Excited, aren’t we?” It’s the same woman from yesterday. “I like.”
“I want to talk to Dean.” He needs to know Dean’s still okay, still himself. He needs to breathe.
“Patience, big boy. Still got the unicorn with you?”
Sam furrows his brows. “Unicorn?”
“Rare creature, that one, giving himself up for a dog. Can’t say I get it, but… as long as it’s mine.”
“Yeah, he’s with me.” Cas steps closer to listen better.
“Great. Tell him to come to Evergreen Memorial Park in Omaha tomorrow at sundown. Alone and unarmed, of course. You know the drill.”
“I want to talk to my brother,” he insists.
She sighs. “Aren’t you the ladies man…” From further away now, “So talk, Deano. Tell him how much fun you’re having with li’l ol’ me.”
“Nngh, Sammy?!” It’s Dean. It’s Dean, oh thank God.
“Dean!!”
“Listen, you can’t trust her! You c-mmrngh!!!”
“Dean!!!”
“Well, that’s all, folks!” Back to her cheery drawl. “See you again next time!”
The line goes dead, and he knows better than to try calling back.
“Well?” Bobby asks impatiently, dropping another book on the pile.
“Evergreen Memorial Park,” Cas answers for him. “In Omaha at sundown.”
“Fuckin’ Omaha,” comes a familiar growl from by the door.
“Don’t you dare,” Bobby snipes before anyone else can respond.
Sam smiles as he turns to the African American leaning on the door frame with a tumbler of scotch in hand. “It’s good to see you, Rufus.”
“I can believe it.” Rufus pushes off, taking a few steps into the room, side-eying Bobby. “It must get old dealing with this miserable cuss here all by yourself.”
Sam laughs weakly. “It’s been a while.” Rufus is a match for Bobby in gruff and grouchy, and if possible, likes people even less, so he often stays in dog form and looks as menacing as he can manage.
“You guys wanna get a room or bone up on anti-demon spells?” Bobby adds a few more volumes to the stack with an irritable thud. “Before we’re all screwed.”
Sam and Cas exchange glances. The angel seems… frustrated somehow, and it’s only when Cas steps back with a resigned nod that Sam recognizes the feeling - powerlessness.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Omaha is just over two hours away, and Rufus won’t let anyone else drive, so Bobby is bickering relentlessly with him up front while Cas leans into Sam’s side in the back, lost in thought. Sam has his arms wrapped around his mate, but it doesn’t ease the angel’s disquiet. Sam’s anxious too - he’s worried about Dean, but he doesn’t want to lose Cas, and the thought that he might be trading one for the other, that everything could go wrong today, and they’re all going to end up dead…
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispers the promise, half to himself, and Cas nods.
“That is not what weighs on my mind,” the angel explains at last, just as quietly. “Nothing they can do to me will make me talk. However, your brother, you… They may use you against me. Most of all… I keep coming back to the thought that we may never see each other again, and it’s like… suffocating, and being taken by a creeping chill, all at once.”
Sorrow, Sam thinks - he knows the scent. Fear. “No.” He shakes his head, tightening his embrace. “That’s not going to happen,” and if he has to believe enough for them both, he’ll sure as hell try.
“Human emotions are so… intense, so physical,” Cas muses, sighing as he rests his head wearily on Sam’s shoulder. “Does it not tire you?”
In spite of everything, Sam chuckles. “I’ve had time to adjust.”
Cas smiles up at him fondly, and he kisses the angel on the forehead, protective. They’ve got spells memorized, potions and charms ready to go, and Cas still has Ruby’s weapons as well as his own. Demons are telekinetic too, which means any fights that erupt will have to be settled physically. Regular game hunting makes Bobby the best shot, so the gun is now with him and the knife with Sam. Armed to the teeth doesn’t mean safe though, and he doesn’t trust the woman to play by the rules.
Suddenly, the car jerks as Rufus makes a sharp turn off the highway, and Sam wakes with a start, realizing sheepishly that he drifted off. With all the preparations, they didn’t get much sleep last night.
Cas, too, stirs as Rufus snaps, “That is still a dumbass plan.”
“Yeah? Fine, you come up with a better one,” Bobby retorts from the passenger seat.
“You remember the last time we were here, Bobby?”
“You know what? Screw you. That’s low.”
“I’m sorry,” Cas pipes up then. “This would have been easier if I still had all my powers.”
“Yeah, well, cryin’ over spilt milk ain’t never helped anybody,” says Bobby, and Sam’s not sure if it’s directed at Cas or Rufus.
“You kids got everything?” Rufus asks as he follows a sign to the memorial park.
“Yes, mom,” Sam teases in an effort to lighten the situation. It’s kinda funny hearing Rufus call a millennia-old angel one of the “kids” too.
“Shut up, boy,” the familiar growls before turning back to Bobby as he pulls up by the side of the road. “You get the kids lunch and me a bottle of Blue. I’m going to scope out the place, set some traps.”
Bobby circles around and gets into the driver’s seat. “Hey, you watch yourself,” he says as Rufus shifts into dog form. “No telling if they’d show up early too.” As the rottweiler runs off, he watches from the rearview mirror before shutting the Chevelle’s door. He doesn’t drive away until Rufus is out of sight.
Grabbing lunch at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, Sam learned he’s the only one in the house who hasn’t been there before. The proprietor’s daughter, Jo, asked where Dean was, and he didn’t want to say any more than that they were on their way to pick his brother up and maybe they’ll swing by together on the way back. Between the nerves and sleep deprivation, he and Cas barely manage more than half a burger and a cup of coffee each, and they buy the scotch before heading to the memorial park to meet up with Rufus over an hour before sundown.
The familiar is waiting by the entrance, and Bobby starts sipping from his hip flask as they follow Rufus to one of the gardens. There’s no one around as they walk along the rows of well-kept graves, past vases of colorful flowers, only the rustling of oak and cypress leaves in the evening breeze, but the idyllic landscaping doesn’t quite soften the foreboding peace. Sam takes Castiel’s hand, the angel laces their fingers, and they walk in silence, letting the scent of fresh greenery wash over them.
The sun is just beginning to set when they catch sight of a group of four approaching from the other side of the park. The stench of sulphur precedes them by halfway across the clearing. Two men are carrying Dean slumped between them, and a brunette with long wavy hair wearing a leather jacket over jeans and a tank top leads them.
“There you are… Look who didn’t come alone,” drawls a familiar voice as they approach. The woman twirling a knife in her hand at the front of the group is the one they’ve been talking to over the phone.
“Until you get your friend out of Dean Winchester, I’d say we can call us even,” Cas ripostes coldly, giving all four of them a hard stare.
Sam glances at Cas, then back at Dean worriedly. No wonder he couldn’t reach Dean. The demon probably only let Dean out whenever they were on the phone.
The woman smiles, teasing. “Hi. I’m Meg. I’m a demon,” she says sweetly.
“Yeah, sure,” Sam replies, straightening to his full height and putting every Alpha marker into his most imposing stance. “We weren’t holding out any hopes here. Now you tell your buddy there to smoke out of my brother, or this exchange is off.”
The two demons let Dean go, and the demon possessing him drops the pretense, straightening and stretching his joints with audible cracks. “But it’s nice in here,” not-Dean whines with a grin, green eyes turning black. “Warm and fluffy. You could almost forget it’s a dog.”
Sam reaches for a potion, but Bobby beats him to it, tossing the contents of the flask he’s been pretending to drink from all over Dean as he shoots the demon nearest to him. Switching to an immobilizing potion, Sam flings it at Dean as Rufus tackles the other demon, shifting in midair. Bobby whirls on Meg then, but she disarms him and grabs the gun, then throws him at Rufus even as Cas takes advantage of the struggle to stab the other demon with his angel blade.
Bobby and Rufus roll twice, then “Balls!!!” Bobby swears as the ground gives way beneath them - one of Rufus’ traps, a deep trench.
Sam throws a potion at Meg, but she darts out of the way and kicks him into a few gravestones.
“Sam!” Cas runs to his side and pulls him to his feet, prepared for Meg to attack, but instead, she grabs Dean and presses the knife she is holding to his throat.
“Now you’ve really stepped in it, kids,” she says sharply, flipping her hair out of her face.
The demon wearing Dean smirks. “This knife won’t hurt me, but it will kill your precious puppy.” The knife nicks Dean’s neck as she drags his frozen body backwards, and the demon hisses as a thin line of blood forms.
She grins, fierce. “Oops, my hand slipped. You’re one heavy mutt.”
“Stop.” Sam steps in front of Cas and squares his shoulders. “Just let my brother go. This was supposed to be an exchange.”
“It was until the old man jumped the gun and shot my brother,” Meg retorts, watching them carefully as she continues to back away. “So here’s what’s going to happen, Bullwinkle.” She aims the gun she snatched at the trench where Bobby and Rufus are trapped in the dirt. “You’re going to hand Clarence over, or I’m going to kill everyone here.”
“No.” Cas strides to the front, the tip of his angel blade pressed over his heart. “If you hurt any one of them, the spell will be lost to you forever.”
Sam whirls. “Cas? What are y-”
Meg chuckles. “You really do know how to make a girl’s nethers quiver, don’t you?”
“Angels,” the other demon sighs. “Always in a hurry to be the martyr.”
“Oh, but that’s not just suicide. It’s murder, which is all manner of hot.” She smirks. “That salesman of yours, he sign up to get killed? ‘Cause I know my sweet actress wannabe from Cheboygan here sure as hell didn’t.”
Sam turns to the angel. “Cas, what’s she talking about?”
“Ooh, you didn’t tell loverboy! Naughty, I like.”
“Sam, I-”
“Here, let me bottom-line it for you,” not-Dean interrupts. “Your angel there is just like us, needs to ‘borrow’ a meat suit to walk around in ‘cause we ain’t got no physical form.”
“You’re wrong,” Cas ripostes firmly. “We’re nothing like you. We ask for and are willingly given what you take by force.”
“Tch, semantics,” the demon scoffs. “He dies, the body dies too. Murder by any other name.”
“No,” Cas says again. “Jimmy knows what’s at stake.”
“Jimmy?” And Sam knows, he knows this isn’t the time, but… the revelation suddenly makes it very important. “Then did he… The mating,” he grasps at the words weakly. “Did Jimmy agree to that too?”
Cas opens his mouth to reply, but then Meg shouts, and they turn as Rufus slams into her from the side. The knife sinks into skin, and the demon gurgles wet cackling as Dean’s body falls to the ground, blood gushing from the gash in his neck.
“Dean!” Sam moves towards his familiar, then-
CRACK resounds, loud and sharp. In the silence left behind, Sam searches for the source of the explosion, watches as if in slow motion as the rottweiler falls off Meg to the ground with a dead thud.
“RUFUS!!!”
Bobby is yelling as if from very far away. The gun is smoking in Meg’s hand. Rufus isn’t moving.
He sees Meg run towards Cas and Cas moving to stab himself, but it’s like his body has turned to lead, and he can’t make it move fast enough.
No. No, no, no.
Suddenly, a bright white light illuminates the area, and he shields his eyes against the glare. When it fades, Meg and Dean are lying unconscious on the grass. He glances up just in time to see Cas being grabbed from behind.
“Hello, little brother.”
Sam can’t believe his eyes.
It takes a moment, but blue eyes widen in disbelief as Cas stops struggling long enough to see. “G-Gabriel?”
“Oops,” the newcomer says with a grin. “Can’t have you remembering that after all the trouble I went to.” He presses his hand to Castiel’s brow, and the angel collapses to the ground.
“P-Professor Løkse?” Sam manages to gasp as the man skips towards him.
“Hey there, kiddo.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Your alternative doctor?” Gabriel’s grin is cheeky. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Then his hand is on Sam’s forehead before Sam can react, and the world, once again, flares into brilliant white.
Sam wakes to a white room and the caustic stench of antiseptic, and his first thought has him leaping to his feet off the cot he’s lying on.
Dean! Cas! Rufus! Bobby!
His wildly searching eyes find first Dean, then Cas, lying on what look like hospital beds beside his own, but Rufus and Bobby are nowhere to be seen. Dean is still unconscious, but not even a scar remains of the deep cut that had been over his jugular. Cas, too, looks to be in one piece, and when he makes for the door, sits up with a grimace and offers, “Bobby and Rufus are in the next room.”
Sam stops, going to Castiel’s side instead. “You’re okay… Where are we?”
“A Grigori hospital. You’re just in time. The nurse, Naomi, has gone to tell Michael I’m awake.” The moment of panic must have been obvious, either on his face or over their connection, because Cas takes his hand. “Let’s hear what Michael has to say. It might not be bad news.”
Sam looks at his mate. “You don’t really believe that.”
“No,” Cas agrees, “but we don’t have a choice.”
“Who’s Michael?” Sam asks as it occurs to him.
“Head of the Grigori.”
“Oh.” He looks down at the white gown and sheets. At best, Michael will call him unclean, say he defiled Cas, blacklist them both, or banish Cas. At worst, they’ll be detained and interrogated, then executed. They might never see the light of day again, and no amount of Alpha chutzpah can soften the icy claws of dread sinking into his core.
“About… your question,” Cas says, and Sam glances up, confused. “Jimmy,” his mate clarifies, expression grave.
“Oh,” he says again.
“I… It’s true that angels have no physical form, and this body is not my own. However, we do require a person’s express consent to possess their body, after which their soul remains dormant within. But…” Cas struggles with how best to continue the explanation. “A human body cannot ordinarily sustain more than one of the same type of metaphysical entity at once. As time passes, the stronger will automatically subsume the weaker, and angels without Grace are almost identical to human souls.”
Sam’s eyes widen as realization hits.
“Yes. It is as you have concluded. As my Grace waned, Jimmy’s soul began to merge with mine, and the more time passed, the more similar we grew in both form and experience.” Here, Cas laces their fingers. “So we became less and less two separate beings and more and more two aspects of a single being. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t happen because Angelic Grace prevents it, and possession is often temporary for the mission. But due to the circumstances…” He looks away, troubled. “A full merge takes months. It’s a very gradual process, and the… signs aren’t obvious. By the time I realized what was happening, I no longer had the power to leave Jimmy Novak’s body, and although incomplete, the merge is irreversible. I know not where to begin making amends to his family.”
“But… Then…” Sam doesn’t really know what to ask, what to protest.
“It is easy to say that, due to the soul merge, whatever decisions we make, we make as one. Yet, because I am, at all times, the dominant personality, they are always primarily my choices rather than Jimmy’s.” Cas shakes his head sadly. “Do you… understand, Sam? The answer isn’t so simple, and I’d understand if it doesn’t satisfy you, but-”
“No. You’re my mate, Cas,” Sam interrupts firmly. “I won’t abandon you over something that cannot be undone.” No matter the implications, that much is clear.
Just then, the door opens, and a brunet walks in, just the sort you’d expect - tall, well-built, handsome and regal in a dark gray suit with knowing gray-green eyes gazing out of a proud face. Behind him, in a white suit, an equally proud-looking brunette shuts the door. They’re accompanied by the sharp scent of ozone - both angels.
“Michael,” Cas greets, bowing his head slightly.
Not knowing what to say, Sam only nods.
Michael doesn’t even look at him. “Castiel. Naomi tells me you are well enough to report?”
Cas nods. “I am.”
“Then I will hear it.” He takes the chair on the other side of Castiel’s bed. “We lost all contact after Zachariah’s demise. You may begin from there.”
Sam squeezes his mate’s hand as Cas recounts the events after Zachariah attacked them outside the library leading up to the confrontation with Meg at the cemetery.
That’s when he notices.
“Wait, there’s something-” He shakes his head, then realizes Cas and Michael are staring at him - Cas in question, Michael in mild annoyance at the interruption. Oops, he didn’t notice he was thinking aloud. “No, I mean…” He flails a little, trying to explain. “Cas, what’s the last thing you remember?”
For a moment, Cas furrows his brows, then his eyes widen. “The white light.”
“Right. A white light flared through the cemetery, and the next thing we know, we’re here,” Sam agrees, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But… Doesn’t it feel like something’s missing? I’m quite sure there was something after that, but I’m drawing a blank.” He frowns, frustrated.
Castiel’s expression turns anguished. “I don’t remember either. This cannot be natural. Angels remember everything.” He reaches up to dig his fingers into his temples. “I can’t even remember the spell we fought so hard to protect.”
Michael turns to Naomi. She shakes her head.
He turns back to gaze at them in contemplative silence. “If it is indeed the spell you claim it is, then it is for the best that you’ve forgotten,” he says at last. “Still, this tampering with your memories warrants further investigation. It is no simple feat.”
The word “investigation” calls to mind invasive ear probes and awake live brain dissection, and he probably looks the picture of abject horror, for Cas immediately says, “With all due respect, I don’t think you’ll find the answer in our heads.”
“No,” Naomi agrees, speaking for the first time since she walked in. “I didn’t.”
Sam sits down. Fortunately, there’s a chair right behind him.
Michael rises. “We will look into the incident at the cemetery in Omaha. In the meantime, Castiel, you will return to active duty as soon as you are able.” At Castiel’s look of surprise, he adds, “After Zachariah’s demise, we uncovered much evidence of his many crimes, including conspiring with demons and the abduction of humans. We have since returned Miranda Hazel to her home without the traumatic memories of her abduction and posthumously discharged Zachariah dishonorably. You were right to execute him. Anael has taken over his duties, and you will henceforth report to her, Castiel.”
Cas nods. “I know Anael. What about Sam?”
Sam looks up at Michael, whose considering gaze has finally turned on him, as if in mere afterthought on an insignificant matter.
“In light of your relationship with Castiel, Sam Winchester,” the angel says at length, and the distaste is thinly veiled, “you will be required to apply for Grigori sanction.” He heads to the door.
“Th-that’s it?”
Castiel nudges him pointedly as Michael looks back, puzzled and impatient.
“Were you expecting something else?”
“N-n-no!” He laughs sheepishly. “I just- Uh… Thank you.”
Michael’s expression turns longsuffering, but he simply nods and leaves with Naomi close behind. As soon as the door closes behind them, Sam flops forward onto Castiel’s bed in relief.
They’re going to be okay after all.
Navigation:
Prologue
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Epilogue