Cataclysm, for ratherastory, part 2 of 2
He is ready. Cas hands the fragments of the Angel Tablet over to the new prophet, bids Byron welcome, asking he do what he can to aid his human friends, and prepares to depart with Sam and Jody at his side. Adrenalin can only account for some of the excitement he feels when he finally reaches the battlefield. Most of it, surely, is born of wanting to see Dean again. Of wanting his plan to succeed. We will get Dean back.
Cas is adjusting the straps on the Kevlar vest Jody Mills has insisted they each wear. When he’d started to protest she’d cut him off, briskly saying, “While you might not be entirely human, you are close enough that I don’t want you to take any chances.” Her concern is touching, even if she did use her mom voice as Sam called it, when she spoke to him. He looks to his right and sees Sam pocketing extra clips for his weapon and two flasks of holy water. He is gingerly checking the cutting edge of the Demon Knife and his fingers are absolutely steady. On Castiel’s left side, Jody Mills, also armed, is kneeling, sending up prayers for their safety and it is no small feat to Cas that she includes Dean and those unfortunates taken as demon vessels in her spiritual petitions. When she finishes, he gives her an Angel Blade, excellent for slaying demons. He is becoming very fond of her.
The earlier calm when only the faint sounds of insects and restless movements can be heard below the high, eerie pitch of an angel beacon is broken when Hannah and her harried fellow soldiers suddenly appear on the field to the right.
“Commander, he’s on us!” Hannah’s voice, loud, a little frantic. That is all there is time for.
Sam and Cas take position on the front lines and Jody lines up slightly behind and between them and they all move forward en masse as Dean and his demon troops appear a scant distance away on a small rise. In the brief lull, heavy with tension, Cas sees him. Then the stillness is shattered by sharp movement and the demons surge forward to meet their foes, both human and angel.
Dean stands tall, apart from the others. He is, beyond doubt, in command. Cas takes him in, struck by his presence. He is both beautiful and terrifying in the way that only the most powerful angels, heavenly or demonic, can be. He is dressed in black from head to foot in a close fitting material that forms tightly to his body. He wears a thigh holster and bandolier with a row of silver throwing knives and extra ammo clips strapped in. He has the First Blade at the ready in his right hand and his familiar silver Colt loosely gripped in his left. This sight, in itself, would be enough to give a brave man cause for concern, but that is not the worst of what Castiel sees. The Mark of Cain is glowing on Dean’s forearm burning fiercely bright at the prospect of causing more death. It ignites the air around him with golden, undulating light like sparks thrown skyward by Hellfire. It flickers around him and edges his body like flames. The blaze tips his hair with light, a perverted saint’s halo, and is reflected in the abysmal depths of his dark, impassive, inhuman eyes. Over the place where an anti-possession tattoo once marked his skin, burns a small flaming ring of unholy fire. The scent of brimstone taints the air further marking his presence. Cas fights down a shudder and redoubles his resolve to save his friends. We will get Dean back!
Cas hears Jody inhale sharply behind him and reaches back to offer his hand as a sign of support. The woman clutches his hand briefly, gives it a firm press, and releases it. “Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she says in a breathy whisper, “Dean looks like Hell.” There is no malice in her voice.
Sam is standing, deathly pale, at the edge of Castiel’s vision. He resolutely walks forward, purpose in his strides. His eyes are locked on his brother’s face. Cas sees the pain he feels. God only knows what this is costing him. The anguish, the determination, the great love are all branded as clearly on his features as the Mark that burns on Dean’s right arm.
The demons charge. They are fighting with the desperation of the damned, literally. Castiel faces a large, muscular demon with multiple piercings and a strangely drawn tattoo. He finds the demon a skilled adversary. Dean has chosen his team well. Eventually their stalemate is broken and Cas wrestles the demon to the ground and impales him with his Angel Blade.
Sam is blocked from reaching Dean by a lithe Asian demon. Cas needs Sam to keep Dean in sight. They need Sam to get to Dean, a critical part of the plan. Over the demon’s head Cas sees Dean attack a huge blonde angel whose vessel is nearly as large as Sam but then his attention is diverted by the demon he is facing. Castiel knows Sam can handle himself in a fight but he watches with concern as the demon raises its leg and a powerful kick is launched at Sam’s knee. Sam is equal to the challenge. He takes advantage of his greater reach and steps into the arc of motion to throw the demon off kilter and the demon’s blow lands with little impact. Sam turns with the momentum and rounds on the demon before it can fully recover dragging the Demon Blade over its throat. It drops to the ground, dead.
Jody is standing near by, breathing heavily. She is withdrawing her blade from a demonic corpse at her feet. Cas is relieved to see she is more or less unharmed. A wave of nausea hits him hard, another first. The sight of blood has never troubled him in all the years he’s fought, but now, seeing it covering Jody, he finds it unusually disturbing. Is it hers, the demons? Both perhaps? Then the brief respite is over and they are each facing another demon. There are fewer demons on the field now. Hopefully the battle will soon be over.
Cass fends off a wiry female demon and impales it quickly, looking up in time to see Hannah facing a stocky, well muscled dark-skinned demon as she barely avoids an uppercut from its large fist. She is agile and dodges back throwing her opponent off balance. When he overcorrects she sees her opening and drives her blade into his midsection. He falls away and she runs to help Jody Mills deal with a tall, female demon brandishing an evil looking knife. Hannah is a skilled, efficient fighter. He is glad to have her help. They have managed to kill several demons but there are still others and, of course, his friend, Dean. All are putting up a hellishly difficult fight. Which, he supposes, one should always expect from a band demons. Dean, he knew, would never surrender willingly.
Sam sprints forward, first to reach the next pair of demons with Castiel close at his heels. A demon just over average height rushes him and Sam tackles him. They plummet to the ground. Sam rolls to the side and dodges as the demon pulls his switchblade just nicking Sam’s arm. Sam’s fist connects with a solid right cross staggering the demon momentarily. He pulls the Demon Knife and buries the blade in the demon’s chest who screams in rage and pain. Then the screaming abruptly ceases and the demon sags into an immobile heap in the bloodstained grass.
Cas faces the other demon, in a heavy set, balding vessel, and strikes hard, watching as the creature struggles futilely, clearly he is not a knife fighter, before dropping dead at Castiel’s feet. Ahead of him, Cas sees an angel he isn’t familiar with go down wailing beneath Dean’s blade. The demon, already intent on his next kill, quickly dislodges the bone knife from the holy corpse and stalks toward his brother. Castiel clambers over the fallen demon and runs toward Sam but sees Dean reach him first.
Always an excellent marksman, Dean discharges three tightly grouped rounds into Sam’s chest and continues to advance on him as Sam goes down hard. Holstering the Colt, he kneels over his brother raising the First Blade high to create as much downward momentum as possible. Using the force within every muscle Dean fuels the death stroke.
“Dean, stop! Please Dean, stop. Stop!”
Below him Sam struggles to fend off the dreadful, anticipated blow. He grips Dean’s wrist, fights to rise, to somehow get away, his eyes searching the ground for the holy water flask laying just out of reach. His efforts are met with a brutal fist, a blow that rocks his head back and then Cas is finally there. His hands are restraining the hand that wields the deadly First Blade. Even using all his strength he is hard pressed to keep control of it. Dean lashes out with his left fist and Cas absorbs the punishing impact and hopes to be able to dodge the next one to keep from loosing his grip. Sam scrambles up from the ground plunging a syringe of his purified blood into Dean’s neck and hurls a salvo of holy water into his brother’s chest. Dean growls out a thunderous, roaring, inhuman snarl as the water makes contact burning, steaming, smoldering on his flesh as it touches. Dean writhes, screaming, straining, and shakes free of the hold Cas has on him. Dean is on his feet now, furiously rounding on the angel when Sam launches a second holy water assault. Dean glares at his brother, his face completely devoid of recognition. His features are etched with raw hatred as the holy water burns his flesh and steam rises around him. He stalks toward Sam who is holding the Demon Knife like a shield between himself and the one demon he’d hoped he’d never have to use it on.
Cain appears suddenly between the brothers, facing Dean. “I told you the mark could only be given to someone worthy, that the day would come when I’d ask you to kill me. I faithfully served as a warrior for Hell’s purposes for millennia. I deserve to be able to choose an honorable cause for myself, to do battle with an exemplary opponent. I choose this moment, this place. I choose you. Dean Winchester, It’s time to keep your promise. Kill me, if you can!”
Castiel, now beside Sam, watches as everything but the scene before him seems to drop away into oblivion. Dean and Cain square off, warily assessing one another. They circle, alpha predators, each looking for an opening, each searching for any weakness to exploit. Dean is armed with the First Blade, Cain with Sam’s Demon Knife. Cain makes an aggressive preemptive move. He lunges at Dean and draws first blood. The force of the exchange is minimal. Deflected by Dean’s swift reflexes and years of skill honed by hunting, he knocks Cain’s blade aside. The glancing blow slices across Dean’s collarbone. Dean, snarling his anger, presses forward and lashes out with his knife. Calmly Cain steps into the blade’s arc and unexpectedly drops his guard leaving himself open and unprotected in the breach, a willing sacrifice, as the First Blade pierces his flesh.
As Cain falls, the Mark on Dean’s arm flares a blinding, phosphorescent red then goes rapidly cold, an icy, rippling blue. Latent power surges in the air raising the fine hairs on Cas’ limbs and the distinct scent of ozone sharpens the air around him. The Mark pulses hot and cold, oscillating for a long moment then gradually subsides to a dull, angry, thrumming red. With Cain’s help they have succeeding in weakening the link between Dean and the Mark but the battle is far from over. The Mark will not willingly release him. Castiel sees Cain die with an expression on his face that could be perceived many ways, pride, relief, contentment, redemption. When it is over he subsides quietly, a faint smile on his lips. The impact of Cain’s death is immediate on Dean. He stumbles back from Cain’s body stunned, clearly dazed by what has just transpired and numbly drops the First Blade to the ground. He stands utterly still, transfixed with his obsidian eyes locked on the deadly blade. This is the cue Cas and the others are awaiting. Castiel sprints to Dean’s left side and takes a firm grip on his shoulder. His skin feels impossibly hot beneath Castiel’s touch. Byron is positioned opposite him on Dean’s right. Hannah comes to Sam’s side quickly and a third angel, a petite female with black hair and warm brown eyes, escorts Jody as they are transported instantaneously to the dungeon of the bunker.
Castiel, with Byron’s help, has the spell-etched iron manacles and collar on Dean before he has time to react but it is a near thing. Finding himself trapped he is raving, murderously angry and strains vehemently against his chains.
“You sons of bitches! Let me go! Let me go!”
Cas stands just outside the reach of Dean’s chains and looks around the dungeon. Every inch of the walls are covered by photographs just as he‘d requested. Everywhere are reminders of his friend. A photograph of the boys, much younger then, swimming near an old wooden dock, there a homemade EMF meter made from a busted up Walkman, a battered trucker cap of Bobby’s, the faded stub from a movie ticket, the first small pocket knife Dean had been given by his father, a cooler filled with Dean’s favorite beer. The swelling guitar riff of a Led Zepplin song plays in the background. There is the giant rainbow Slinky Sam had gotten him and a set of silver cufflinks for those rare dress occasions, also useful for detecting the presence of Skinwalkers and other supernatural creatures. The comforting cinnamon laced scent of warm peach pie and greasy cheeseburgers drifts on the air. Dean’s well worn leather jacket is there, as is the photograph he’d kept on his desk since moving into the bunker, the one of his mother smiling as she hugged him. Charlie Bradbury and the brothers in their larping garb smile up from a screensaver on Sam’s laptop, and the small, flat, rust colored rock Dean had collected on a hike with Sam and Cas in Colorado sits nearby. A photograph of his beloved Impala, a tour brochure from a dude ranch in Texas, a baseball scuffed and soiled with use - there are so many parts to the whole. But these are not the most crucial part.
Sam is beside him and he sees on the young man’s face the same emotions he feels rising in his chest. Hope, compassion, joy, forgiveness, love. All the best parts of humanity. These are the qualities that separate men from animals. Men from angels. Men from demons. These are the parts of himself Dean needs to be reminded of.
In Cas’ absence, the prophet had been given the fragments of the Angel Tablet and charged with fusing the broken shards of God’s word together to make them whole again. Not an easy task, Cas knew, but Garth and Mrs. Tran were quite capable if the prophet needed assistance or restraining. They had also been tasked with preparing the dungeon in anticipation of Dean’s arrival. Castiel was pleased to see that the prophet seemed calmer now but, most importantly, that the tablet had successfully been made whole.
The prophet comes forward and tentatively offers his burden to Jody who is standing nearest to him. She thanks him quietly and walks toward Sam placing the Angel Tablet reverently in his hands. She gives his arm a gentle squeeze, and shares a reassuring smile before she takes her place in the circle beside Castiel as Garth, Linda Tran, and Hannah come forward. Together they surround Dean, each taking up a position at one of the five points of the pentagram that forms the devil’s trap, just beyond his reach.
“You sons of bitches! Let me go!”
Resolutely moving forward, Sam grips the Demon Knife in one hand and the Angel Tablet in the other and steps within the boundaries of Dean’s chains. This is the most critical part of the plan. Cas watches vigilantly, sees on his face the tactician in Dean looking for the endgame, searching for a way to escape. His posture is one of barely contained fury, muscles and nerves coiled tightly, tension triggering beneath his skin as he scans the room. He is all but snarling, teeth bared in a fashion that in no way resembles a smile.
Sam faces his brother, raises the knife, and in swift, measured, movements cuts away the black material that covers Dean’s chest and back. Expecting to feel the blade flaying off his exposed skin, Dean stands in a defensive mode, acutely alert, weight evenly dispersed, muscles tensed, bracing himself for the fight, for the pain. When Sam, gently, lightly brushes his fingertips over the scarred ruins of his anti-possession tattoo, Dean gasps and flinches away. Uncertain how to counter this type of attack, he strains, pulling hard on his chains but his actions are abruptly halted as a vigorous shudder courses through his body forcing a hoarse cry from him. Stunned, he rapidly blinks his black eyes and looks hard first at Sam, then at his own hands, as if he is angry with them for betraying him by trembling.
Sam quickly discards the Demon Knife tossing it far away. He pulls his brother into an embrace drawing him in so close that they are pressed into one another.
“Let me go!”
Dean, confused and frightened now, attempts to dodge away and struggles to free himself from this intimate, unwanted confinement. He balks angrily in his brother’s hold, but Sam stubbornly refuses to relinquish what he has fought so hard to gain. He holds tighter still, murmuring to his brother, “I’ve got you Dean. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” while firmly pressing the Angel Tablet against his brother’s bare back as Dean screams his anguish.
“Damn it, Let me go! Let me go! Please, you have to let me go!”
Touching Dean’s flesh, the power of the Angel Tablet ignites and the Holy script creates an undulating lightshow that fills the air, reverberates through the floor and pounds from the walls. The force surges through the room until Dean becomes its point of convergence and it coalesces in him, ravaging his body, purifying him, until no trace of the demon taint remains. Sam holds him close through all this and though the power shakes and tears at them both, he never lets go.
When it is finally over, Castiel retrieves the Angel Tablet gently from Sam’s hand and sets it aside. He works quickly to remove Dean’s restraints. Sam is cradling Dean in his arms, supporting his brother’s limp, immobile weight against his own body and slowly, with great care, lowers them both to the floor sinking down with him. Cas sees the tears bead on Sam’s lashes and for an instant fears that they have failed. He feels suddenly broken, fractured, as if some irreplaceable piece is being torn savagely from him.
Then Sam releases the sequestered breath he has been holding, a breathy rushed exhale. Cas sees a tremor of movement in the still body and a slight smile curves Sam’s lips. The joy that lights his smile brightens further as Dean inhales sharply. Feeling moisture on his face, he opens his eyes. Dean is looking up at his brother. Looking at him with his beautifully green, entirely human, absolutely perfect, eyes.
“Sam?”
Dean raises himself slightly, pushing up weakly on one elbow and scans the room taking in his surroundings quizzically. His gaze acknowledges Cas and a small smile passes between them and continues to each of the others in turn. Castiel is sure now everything will be fine. We have Dean back. Whatever the future holds, it will be fine because Sam has his brother back. Because Cas has his family back. He smiles at Dean and sees the love he feels reflected around the room on each of the other’s faces.
Castiel ushers Garth, Mrs. Tran, Hannah, and Jody Mills gently, quietly into the other room. There will be time, later, for their own happy reunions, but this sacred moment should belong only to the brothers, to his boys, the Winchesters. He pauses to close the doors behind him and hears Dean’s voice, low and smoky soft, in the stillness, “Sam, what’s all this? I told you to let me go.”
Cas can hear the happiness too, buoyant in Sam’s tone as he says, “You should know by now, Dean, we all care too much to let you go. Especially me.”
“You were told to let me go.”
Sam’s tears are flowing down his cheeks when he pulls Dean to him, burying his face against his brother’s shoulder. “I guess you’re gonna to have to tell me again.”
“Hey, Sammy…”
“Yeah, Dean?”
“Thanks for not letting me go. Not ever, deal?” Dean says as he presses in close and holds his brother tightly.
Castiel smiles, brimming with happiness, as he leaves them alone and decides that this is the best day of his entire existence. And that’s saying something considering….