[Fic] DCBB - Round Came the Magpie - Chapter Four
Chapter Four
November 2nd, 2005
Dean could easily admit that he didn’t want to take Sam back to school, which explained why he was in the passenger’s seat that evening and Castiel was behind the wheel. In one of Dean’s more petulant moves he refused to give the keys up when Sam demanded. When Sam threatened to take a bus back, Castiel quite literally wrestled the keys out of his husband’s pants. As the angel stormed from the room he grumbled about childish humans who had the nerve to call him a child on more than one occasion.
“What, Dean, you really think he wouldn’t go in after them? Considering all the things you guys probably get up to, reaching into your jeans is tame,” Sam laughed.
“Oh, so you’re all right with imaging brother-sex now? Would you like me to paint you a picture? Because I can, you know, in vivid detail. Won’t spare the sound effects either,” Dean snarked in return. “I’ve been brushing up on my onomatopoeia and everything.” Dean fell into a sullen pout at Sam’s eye roll and Castiel just sighed as he turned up the radio.
Dean was well-aware that he was acting childish, and perhaps he gave himself more leeway to do so now and then given that he didn’t have to concern himself with being the oldest and most mature now that Castiel was in the picture. Castiel, too, had his moments of naiveté, or those times when something just managed to escape his understanding. Despite Dean’s sometimes-regression however, he was still in this state for the same reasons as always. He needed to protect Sam, plain and simple. Ever since Dad had pushed that squalling bundle into his arms and told him to run, Dean knew that Sam was his responsibility.
There had been times in the past where Sam and Dean had been accused of being co-dependent but neither of them really cared. Just because it didn’t work for most people didn’t mean it didn’t work for Sam and Dean. Things were a little tricky to navigate once Castiel came into the picture but Sam warmed up to the older boy quickly, and perhaps there was a slight bit of admiration there as well. Sammy had always believed in angels. Despite Castiel’s brothers, Castiel wasn’t a dick and fit Sam’s understanding of angels more accurately than perhaps Dean should have allowed his little brother to believe - allowed Sam to believe because Dean had never really shared the truth about angels with the younger boy. That then brought him back to the problem at hand.
Dean’s inability to express his concern over Sam’s welfare arose because Dean had never expressed the very true concerns about Sam’s welfare to Sam. Namely that angels - as stated - were dicks, and they wanted Sam and Dean if not dead then on lockdown. Castiel hadn’t been one hundred percent sure when he fled Heaven that night to save Dean.
February 13th, 1992
Dean was sitting with his legs through the safety bar on the spinning wheel in the park. They had moved on from warmer climates and were once more where snow was a regular thing. The wood was frozen beneath his well-worn jeans and his mittens were doing little to protect his hands from the icy chill of the metal bar where he rested them, but that wasn’t what his concern was. He had his eyes squeezed shut tightly and was whispering Castiel’s name over and over again.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s voice sounded very close.
Dean nearly screamed when the angel suddenly appeared beside him, but he was able to quickly cover it up with what he hoped was a manly sounding cough and not a pathetic choke.
“Dammit, Castiel! Don’t do that, a little warning please?” Dean glared.
“How do you propose I warn you? You called for my appearance, I expected you to expect me,” Castiel seemed genuinely confused and also looked out of place sitting next to a bundled-up Dean in nothing but ratty jeans and an equally fraying t-shirt.
“Dude, you can’t just show up in the middle of winter dressed like that; people will look at you weird.”
Castiel looked down at the clothing and then turned back to Dean. “This is what my vessel was clothed in. I had no choice in the matter.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean broke in suddenly, anger in his tone. “What the hell do you mean by vessel? Don’t tell me that body belongs to some poor bastard.”
Castiel’s near perpetual frown deepened. “It may sound the same at its core but it isn’t like demon possession if that is what you are concerned about, Dean. Young Jimmy Novak is a very devout boy. He prayed for this. I could not enter without his consent and my gracious host is not awake.”
Dean tried not to react to the fact that demons actually possessed people and seemed to be able to fool everyone that they were normal. That’s what Dean gathered at least. He knew the basis of possession, he knew demons and ghosts could do it, but he figured it was more of an Exorcist barfing pea-soup kind of deal. Dean made a note to question Castiel about that later, but he had more pressing matters in mind.
“Well, whatever, just go grab one of Johnny’s coats or something. I don’t want people asking questions if anyone walks by,” Dean ordered.
“Jimmy.” Castiel corrected. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Dean kept a close watch on the spot where Castiel disappeared in order to not be startled again but the damned angel appeared at his other side instead and Dean jumped anyway at the lowly spoken:
“Hello, Dean. Now why did you call?”
Castiel did retrieve a coat like Dean asked but it didn’t seem to be a very good one. It was shabby and a bit too small and looked to be more of a spring jacket than one that was suited to mid-February in New York State.
Dean rolled his eyes. “I guess it will do from far away, but next time get a winter jacket.”
“This is the only jacket Jimmy possesses,” Castiel replied.
“Where does he live?” Dean asked.
“Illinois.”
“Jesus,” Dean murmured. Kid must freeze half to death, half the time. Dean wondered briefly what circumstances would have to occur for a teenage boy to only have one light jacket that didn’t even fit him right. He briefly entertained the thought of asking, but he’d already been out quite a while as it was and Dad told him he was only allowed to go for a few hours. He needed time to get back still.
“I gather you didn’t call me here to inquire about my vessel.”
“No, you’re right. Been trying to get you since Monday, Dude. Where have you been?”
“I apologise. I must attune myself to you more before your prayers are able to reach me on other days of the week. Even if you invoke my name, until we are bound, I can only be truly summoned by an incantation. Today is Thursday and I am that day’s patron angel which is why your prayers reached me now.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. I’m thirteen, Dude, I ain’t getting bound to anyone,” that was unfortunately the only thing that Dean had taken away from Castiel’s entire explanation. At the term, his mind had slammed on the brakes and stopped listening.
“Oh, perhaps the term has different connotations than which I intended. I have not been on Earth for several centuries and perhaps my dialogue is now a bit underdeveloped. I only meant until we know one another better. I have yet to properly familiarise myself with your soul.”
“Still sounding way more pervy than I’m comfy with, Man,” Dean grimaced.
“What did you need, Dean?” Castiel sounded just the slightest bit exasperated at where their conversation had been going so far and Dean sucked it up.
“Really, Man, I just wanna know why,” Dean said sadly.
“Why?”
“Yeah, I mean why me? Why save me? Also, how? How did you know that whatever that blazing light ball thing was would wanna kill me?”
“The simplest answer is because God has plans for you.”
That probably sounded way more ominous than Castiel had intended, but then again, Dean didn’t know for sure.
He swallowed nervously and squeaked, “Wh… what kind of plans?”
Castiel shook his head and seemed hesitant to answer at first but eventually he seemed to come to his decision and replied, “Big plans. Plans that as far as my understanding goes, were not supposed to occur until you were much, much older. The archangel Michael, however, is not known for his patience. He seemed concerned and wanted to… Get things in motion now and he needs you to do that. I was to be responsible for ensuring your compliance.”
Dean backed off suddenly, his eyes going wide, but his position had him relatively trapped. Sure he could get out, but he wouldn’t be faster than Castiel.
Castiel picked up on Dean’s sudden apprehension and instantly turned reassuring. “I have decided to go against these orders. I promise, Dean. That is why I saved you, to protect you from Michael.”
“Why?” Dean asked, still suspicious.
“I tend to be against the kidnapping of children on principle,” Castiel answered with a hint of wryness in his tone that Dean had not heard until now.
Dean smiled a little and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Castiel seemed disbelieving at Dean’s quick compliance.
“Okay,” Dean repeated. “Just, something about you Cas, I trust you. So okay.”
Castiel smiled suddenly and hid his face, looking all the younger in his teenage body.
“What?” Dean asked puzzled, a slight smile of his own in play.
“I just… No one has called me that before and meant it kindly.”
“What?” Dean repeated, growing more confused.
“Cas.”
After a quiet moment, where both were admittedly feeling a little embarrassed but equal parts pleased, Castiel finally went on to explain what it was he understood of Michael’s plan.
There was to be a large fight, the largest in fact - the Apocalypse - and Dean and Sam were apparently key players in it. They were to Michael and another brother who Castiel didn’t mention, what Jimmy was to Castiel - vessels, but not just any vessels - The perfect vessels.
Castiel had only explicitly been told that Michael wanted him to capture both Winchester boys. He was one of the younger angels who had a younger vessel on Earth, which the angels assumed would have resulted in quicker trust. Castiel was hesitant to agree from the start but Zachariah (Michael’s mouthpiece) was his superior and it was instinctive for Castiel to follow orders. He hadn’t given an affirmative answer one way or the other, but Zachariah took the lack of response for assent. It wasn’t until Castiel had eavesdropped (it was entirely accidental) and heard the words, “Once he’s here, kill the boy, put the other somewhere safe until he’s eighteen. We’ll have our victory sooner, far quicker than we were to wait originally,” that he made his decision.
Castiel then explained that under normal circumstances, humans were not allowed to be permanent vessels until they reached the age of majority in most countries. It was a caveat God placed on angels in order to protect the young. Jimmy was a few months shy of eighteen and Castiel was only taking control of him when it was required. Otherwise, he remained dormant and allowed Jimmy to function like a normal teenager, or as normal as he could under the circumstances.
Castiel then went on to explain that he wasn’t sure which boy was to be spared and which was to be murdered so he vowed to protect both regardless.
“So Michael and another dick brother of yours want to wear either Sam or me to the prom? Am I understanding that?”
“I am afraid I do not understand you, Dean,” Castiel replied.
“We act as ‘vessels’ for the big show-down,” Dean clarified.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“That ain’t happening.”
“I whole-heartedly agree.”
Dean turned fierce suddenly. “We keep this between you and me, all right? Sammy and my Dad don’t need to know. Sam would only be afraid and Dad would only worry. We’ll figure it out ourselves.”
“Dean, you are only a child,” Castiel attempted to persuade. “Besides, they will have to know at least some details so I can protect you. There are some things I have to do.”
Dean was quiet for a minute, then, “Give me some time to think it over and come up with a way to tell ‘em, all right?”
“You do not have mu-”
“I need some time,” Dean interrupted firmly.
Castiel nodded, his mouth pressed in a thin line.
Dean took a glance at his watch and cursed. “I needed to be back ten minutes ago!”
Castiel nodded again and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean screamed when he touched ground in front of their motel, looking around wild eyed.
“What the fuck?” Dean snarled.
“I took you back. Goodbye, Dean. Call again when you’ve made your decision.”
Dean cursed again and called out for Castiel to wait. The angel looked hopeful.
“Relax,” Dean shook his head. “I haven’t decided yet, just gimme a sec.”
Castiel nodded uncertainly, but waited.
Dean came out a minute later with a coat, bigger, thicker and warmer than the one Castiel was wearing and handed it over, blushing faintly.
“What is this?” Castiel asked, taking the tan material carefully.
Dean shrugged. “Dad was gonna give it away. It’s a bit small for him through the shoulders. For Jimmy. Kid must get cold. It might be big, but if he wears it over that lame excuse for a jacket he has, then he should be warm. Dude’s scrawny, probably needs all the heat he can get.”
“That’s very kind of you, Dean,” Castiel’s voice softened and dropped some of the weird formality he had been using most of the visit. The angel pulled the tan overcoat on. As expected, it almost hung off Jimmy’s slight frame but it would be warmer and at least it wasn’t too small.
Castiel turned slightly and watched it swish around his calves; he smiled wider, his entire face softening, eyes brightening and even his voice changed, “Thanks, Dean.”
Dean smiled. “No problem. Jim, right?”
The teen nodded gave a little wave and his features shifted back to Castiel’s placidity.
“Very, very kind,” Castiel repeated, almost in awe.
Without warning or word, Castiel disappeared. Dean was left staring at empty air.
“Geeze, it was just a friggin’ coat,” Dean muttered with a little smile playing on his lips.
November 2nd, 2005
The rumbling Impala pulled up in Sam’s student housing lot. There were a few lights on and the bright blue light of a yellow emergency call box a few yards away, but there were no people and no other running vehicles. It was late and dark but the warmth of the day had lingered on slightly. The near perpetual warmth was one thing Dean had to give the state credit for. He watched silently and refused to move as Sam got out of the car. Castiel just glared at Dean then shut off the vehicle and went around the back to get Sam’s bag from the trunk.
Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and saw them lean close as they murmured together, too far away and too quiet for Dean to hear. Dean huffed and refused to look any longer but not before he caught Castiel’s faint gesture and helpless headshake in Dean’s direction. Sam must have made a decision at that because he came around to Dean’s side of the car and leaned in the window.
“Cas is pissed at you, Dude,” Sam remarked idly. “You’re acting like a little bitch, you know that right? Which one of us is supposed to be older again?”
“Just go, Sam. If you wanna get away from me so bad, just go,” Dean refused to look at his brother’s face.
Sam sighed, long-suffering. “Dean, I don’t want to go like this. I never like it when we’re fighting. We just had a pretty awesome hunt, don’t you think? Shouldn’t we be happy about it? I get that you don’t like that I’m so far away, but it’s not like you’re alone. Besides, there’s no rule - written or unwritten - that you can’t visit me. You blow through here often enough I’m sure, what with hunts and everything.”
Dean felt an angry coil in his gut and burst forth with it. “What about, Dad? Huh, Sam? He’s still missing. You just gonna walk away from that? I mean, I get that you guys didn’t part on the greatest of terms, but he’s missing. Do you not even care?”
“Dammit, Dean!” Sam slapped a hand on the Impala’s roof and glared down at his brother. “Don’t say shit like that when you know it’s not true! Of course I care, but you guys don’t need my help. I’m out of the game. I’d just slow you down. Besides, I’ve built a life here, I can’t just abandon that. What about Jess, huh? You just want me to drop her and ride off in the sunset with you and Cas? I love her, Dean. Out of everyone, you should understand that.”
“We’re your family, Sam,” Dean said, voice gruff, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, well I want to make Jess my family too. Do you get it now, Dean?”
Dean blinked, taken-aback by that information, he gaped softly. The knowledge drove Dean out of the car and onto his feet. “You talking the ‘m-word,’ Sammy?”
“Yes, Dean. I got a ring and everything. I was going to propose when we celebrate my getting into law school.”
“You’re too young.”
“That’s the biggest load of fucking bull I’ve ever heard!” Sam roared suddenly. “How old were you, huh? Eighteen?”
“Fuck you, Sam, I was twenty-two,” Dean grimaced after he said it and looked away, he slammed the car door closed.
“Ah ha!” Sam crowed triumphantly. “Gee, who do we know right now who is twenty-two, huh?”
“That’s different!”
“How? How exactly is it different? Please enlighten me. Because that’s the only thing that’s been coming out of your mouth lately and I’m no closer to understanding.”
“Because, Sam, Cas knows exactly what I am! Can you say the same?” Dean was right in Sam’s face and jabbed at his brother’s chest with a hard finger.
This time, Sam flinched and turned away from Dean’s stern gaze.
Moments passed, the only sound their joint angry breathing. Castiel remained at the Impala’s tail, trying to remain as unobtrusive and invisible as possible but unwilling to venture too far in case this little battle of wills came to blows.
Eventually though, Sam seemed to deflate and just looked incredibly sad. “It doesn’t matter, because that’s not who I am anymore. This time I’m done and I mean it. I’m out. Don’t come knocking again,” Sam muttered bitterly. He went around the back of the car and squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. “Bon courage et bonsoir, Aramis.”
“Que Dieu soit avec vous, d’Artagnan,” Castiel replied, squeezing Sam’s shoulder in return. Sam nodded once, smiled sadly and walked away.
Castiel watched him go until he couldn’t see him any longer, then raised himself up to sit on the Impala’s trunk.
“All for one, one for all, my ass,” Dean muttered from where he was now leaning on the passenger side.
Castiel didn’t reply.
Neither man moved.
xx
To say that Sam was feeling like shit was an understatement but he did have seeing Jess to look forward to and that put a much-needed spring in his step. Imaging her smile and her soft coconut scent was already putting Sam at ease. Dean’s heated parting words still lingered in the back of Sam’s mind and the equally heated words Sam returned joined them, but the prospect of holding Jess in his arms tonight was enough to ease the sting slightly. Dean would come around or Sam would cave, either way, he knew they wouldn’t fight forever but while they were it still hurt.
As he approached his apartment he felt a chill creep down his spine and he slowed his steps. There was something off in the air and long-ingrained hunter’s instincts were flaring white hot in his mind. Already he felt the adrenaline begin its quick glide through his veins as he peered around in the dimly lit courtyard. A shadow caught his eye at the foot of the stairs leading to his second floor home and he cautiously approached, hand groping around in his pocket for the Taurus that Dean had bought him when he turned sixteen. He hadn’t the heart to tuck it back in the Impala’s trunk, even if Jess hated guns.
“You’re out late.”
Sam relaxed and felt a smile slide across his lips. He moved his hand away from his inner pocket and then approached the shadow. “Brady, hey, you scared me, Man. You okay?”
Brady had been Sam’s best friend almost since he started at Stanford. Brady was a good guy, but he had been having problems recently - drugs, drinking and sleeping around. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Brady to show up at odd hours when he needed help but he hadn’t come around seeking it for a little while now. Sam thought maybe he was finally doing better, but everyone was entitled to their backsliding, as long as they knew when to get help.
“No, Sam, I’m really not,” Brady said airily.
“Shit, Dude. Sucks. Well, come inside, I’ll make you some coffee and we’ll talk. Sound good?” Sam offered jovially. He was tired and not exactly in the most sociable of moods but Brady needed him and Sam refused to turn his back on his friend, especially not after the fight with Dean that Sam was already regretting. Besides he owed Brady. He had introduced Sam to Jess.
“Well you see, Sam…” Brady’s tone was off. It had an extra edge to it, a hint of danger that made the hair on Sam’s arms stand on end.
Brady continued, “…that’s kinda the problem. I was great, managed to wrangle a favour or two, got a promotion at work and this really sweet assignment - big fun. But then, then I come over here to ah… share and you know what I find? I can’t fucking get in!” Brady’s carefully modulated voice had turned to a roar at the end.
To say Sam was confused was an understatement. “Brady, wha-”
“Some fucking genius decided to ward the whole fucking building against fucking demons and whatever the hell those fucked-up scratchings all along the walls are supposed to block! So, Sam, you can imagine my distress!”
“Brady, I don’t…” Sam felt his stomach sink and his heart start to race.
Brady relaxed, suddenly at ease again and he grinned. “Wow, you’re slow. I don’t know if it’s sad or if it’s crossed the line into pathetic. Here I figured you were the brains of your little merry band of misfits but I guess that’s the little whore your brother fucks. Still haven’t figured him out, by the way. But, Sam, have you got me figured?” Brady’s smile was wicked as he stepped into the soft halo of light cast by the street-lamp. Sam looked up to see his eyes two deep shadows of black and he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light.
“What are you?” Sam whispered. “What have you done?”
“Two great questions, Sam. The first I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to, but big bro always did like to coddle you, huh Widdle Sammy? I’ll give you a hint: starts with a ‘de’ and ends with a ‘mon.’ Awesome, isn’t it?”
Sam eyes widened and he backed away. If what Brady was saying was true - and Sam now had no reason to believe it wasn’t - he had nothing on him that would protect him against a demon. He found it a little hard to recall what even worked on them. Dad had always told Dean and him that demons were rare and they had a hard time crawling out of the pit. Though Dad did have one trick with rock-salt and shotgun shells that Sam seemed to remember - he had neither. Nor did he have any way to trick Brady into a devils trap even if he could, through some miracle, find a way and a moment to draw one.
“I see them cogs a-whirling, Sammy-boy. Good on you. In fact, I’m going to reward you with telling you what the answer is to your second question. It is a little trickier though. You see, like I said, there’s some real interesting fingerpaint up around your home sweet home and fucking salt lines.
“Now, at first I thought I got lucky because the bathroom window had nothing on it and I could squeak my way though. But - and this really, really pissed me off, Sam - as soon as I touched the walls I got burned. Like holy water to the face but with more bite, know what I mean? No? Whatever. Then, you see, I got creative,” Brady grinned. “Jess really is a good girl, Sam. A real… ah… keeper. She’s so, so willing to help. All I had to do was call her up and let her know I was outside and,” Brady adopted a pathetic tone, “all messed up.” His voice returned to normal, “Worked like a charm. I thought, hey, awesome, here’s my chance to gut the little slut, burn her up all nice and crispy just like Sammy’s mommy, but you know what? And this did not help my mood at all, Sam, let me tell you. She really threw a spoke in my wheel what with that god-awful little bobble she had on around her neck - couldn’t touch her. That another one of your brother’s butt-buddy’s little trinkets?”
“What did you do?” Sam whispered, his entire body rigid.
“Well if you’d stop interrupting…” Brady rolled his eyes. “So here was another problem, I made up some bullshit story why I wouldn’t go in, had a good little sob on her shoulder and then bid her adieu. But, I still had my dilemma, didn’t I? The big boss man would be pissed as Hell (and that’s literal) if I screwed this up. Big promotion, big job, big payoff if it succeeded. So I needed it to succeed.
“Now what is it all good businessmen do when they don’t have necessary resources at their disposal or if they meet too many firewalls? Easy-peasy: outsourcing! Hired a few good men and got little Miss Sunshine all snug and secure far underground. Can’t hurt her and won’t lose the satisfaction of killing her myself until I’ve explored all options, so I got her on ice, Sammy.
“So here’s the deal, Sam: you want her back safe and sound, you do what I say. If you don’t do what I say then I’ll just get those same good men to go ahead and kill her. Bargaining chip is probably better use than a dead body anyway. You ever want to see Jess again, Sam?”
“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked through gritted teeth.
“That’s my boy. It’s simple really, all you ha-” suddenly Brady stopped midstream.
Sam stared through the darkness, panic setting in as he heard a faint choking sound come from Brady’s direction. He moved forward to see the tip of a silver blade protruding from the Judas’s chest. Blood trickled out of his mouth as his body convulsed around the light-coloured metal. Sam looked over Brady’s shoulder just as a lightning burst flared underneath Brady’s skin only to meet Castiel’s grim face.
“Are you all right, Sam?” Castiel asked once he let the body drop and returned the angel blade to wherever he pulled it from.
Sam fell to his knees, tears burning sudden and hot, rimming his eyes before trickling down his cheeks.
“No,” the young man whispered.
In that second, Dean knew something was very, very wrong but they couldn’t stay here to figure it out. He ran to his brother and tried to lift him to his feet, but the younger man had fifteen pounds and three inches on him and he wasn’t budging.
“Sammy, we gotta get out of here,” Dean gritted. He tugged at Sam again but it felt as if he were leaded. Before Dean could snap the request at Castiel, the angel was there and helping Dean with Sam as if he weighed nothing. Though the ease in the shift didn’t make it any smoother because the minute Sam was being dragged away he began fighting and thrashing against the grip.
“Dammit, Sam, calm down!” Dean shouted.
“Jess!” Sam cried out.
Dean wanted to bash his head against the wall. How could he have been so stupid? His gaze met Castiel’s in the semi-darkness. Castiel nodded, understanding immediately, and disappeared. He reappeared mere seconds later and shook his head sadly.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. Then his heart skipped a beat in his chest when a very familiar sound crept towards them on the wind - police sirens. A neighbour must have heard the shouting or a scuffle or something and called the police. It probably didn’t take much in this town to drop a bead.
“Get us outta here, Cas.”
They were in the Impala, with Dean behind the wheel in less than a second. Dean was starting her up a few seconds later and he peeled out of the dead-quiet parking lot as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. He pleaded silently that Sam would snap out of it soon enough to tell them what the fuck happened.
Castiel reached out across the seat, gripped one of Dean’s hands and held it tightly, resting on Dean’s knee. Dean squeezed back and drove on.
xx
Dean wouldn’t sit down and Castiel spent the last two hours staring at him while he paced their motel room. Sam still hadn’t said a word, just stared mutely at the wall from where he lay on his side on one of the beds. Usually Dean would book them separate rooms but he wasn’t about the leave his brother on his own this time around.
“What the fuck did that sulphuric bastard do to my little brother?” Dean snarled.
“I imagine it’s more what he told Sam, Dean,” Castiel said sadly.
“Why can’t you fix it?!”
Castiel glared. “Oh I’m sorry, Dean, there’s no cure for fucking sad!”
The cursing stopped Dean dead in his tracks and it looked for a moment like they were about to argue before Dean deflated and turned away. He didn’t sit down though, he just went to their duffle and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. Just give it time.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”
“Dean-”
“I said okay, Castiel!”
Castiel flinched and looked down at the carpet before he got up without a word and left the motel room.
Since Dean had laid claim to the whiskey bottle in their room, Castiel crossed the parking lot to the on-site bar. It looked run-down and little more than a watering hole but even cheap booze would suffice. It wasn’t as if he could ever drink enough for it to help, but the act itself and being surrounded by people occasionally seemed to.
When he entered the single room, low country music was playing from an ancient jukebox in the corner. Men in caps with grizzled beards were playing pool or sitting sullenly at tables. Castiel walked up to the bar and sat down. He ordered a few fingers of scotch and sipped it slowly.
“Work or love-life?” a petite woman with long brunette hair was on the stool next to him. He felt the hair shoot up on his arms and the back of his neck and twisted his head around quickly to see her face; nothing supernatural, just pretty in a slightly exotic way with large brown eyes and red-painted, full lips. A large part of him wondered what was causing the thudding through his veins but if she were a monster, demon or angel Castiel would be able to tell. The only thing really that caught his attention was an odd necklace that she wore. It almost looked like a symbol or sigil but he couldn’t place where it was possibly from and as such had no way of reading it. Which meant it couldn’t be something from this world.
“Both,” Castiel replied eventually. “One is conflicting with the other at the moment.”
“Oh, I totally get that,” she replied. “My work doesn’t leave me much time for long-lasting relationships. Meg, by the way.”
Castiel nodded. “Cas Winchester.”
Her eyes seemed to widen slightly but Castiel wasn’t aware of why.
She smiled and said, “Cas, huh? Funny name. That short for Casper or something?”
“Or something,” Castiel didn’t offer anymore. “That’s an interesting necklace, Miss.”
“Ooo, look at you all formal. Meg, please, just Meg. You like it? I found it at one of those lame craft sales one of my friends dragged me to. Total bore, this chick was selling kitschy jewellery and my friend wouldn’t let me leave the damn fair without buying something. So I just chose this at random. Kinda grown fond of it now.”
“It suits you,” Castiel replied.
The girl smiled mysteriously at him then said, “So, I’m not really a girl for taking it slow. Save the poetry right? Put up or shut up,” she winked. “So I’m gonna throw this out there. That love-life you mentioned, is it in an off-again phase? Because I tell ya, Cas, you’re not exactly hard to look at and I’ve been looking for a little ah… recreation if you get my meaning.”
“I um…” Castiel stuttered. It wasn’t the first woman, or man who had ever flirted with him in a bar but she certainly was the most candid about it.
“Shy?” her lips curled in a slow, cat-like smile, her hand rested high on his thigh without invitation. Castiel felt his vessel’s heart-rate increase as she leaned into his personal space, her smoke and whiskey scent underneath something more flowery and feminine tickled his nose.
“Married,” Castiel put up his hand quickly, licking his lips.
That didn’t seem to deter her. “Well that doesn’t matter if we shut-up about it. Could probably take your mind off of those problems you’re having.”
Castiel downed his drink and shook his head, standing quickly and stepping away from her. “No. Please stop. I’m terribly flattered, truly, you’re a lovely woman but I could never betray him like that. Nor would I want to.”
“Your loss,” she said airily with a shrug.
Castiel raced from the bar and back across the parking lot. He slammed the door to their motel room behind him and leaned back against it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean demanded.
“A woman just attempted to seduce me at the bar. It was very unsettling. She was very persistent. Even after I told her I was married. That was a new experience,” Castiel answered. “One I have no desire to repeat.”
Dean snorted and looked away.
Castiel set his jaw and slumped on their bed.
Interlude: Heaven and Hell
With a sigh Meg slid off of the barstool and sauntered to the washrooms at the back. She pushed open the Ladies’ and went to the last stall on the far end, opening the door to reveal a petite blonde woman, legs and hands bound, a gag over her mouth. Her heavily mascaraed blue eyes were wet with tears, little streaks sketched out in black along her cheeks. Meg cocked her head at the woman and smiled slowly; she leaned forward and removed the gag and before the blonde could scream Meg pressed their lips together, expelling her essence from the brunette’s body.
Once she had settled in the blonde, Meg stood and rotated her neck, snapping the bonds easily and dumping the gag to the ground. The brunette was stirring, eyes wide and terrified, she seemed as if she were about to scream now but Meg backhanded her across the face and leaned down to rip the necklace off of her. She tucked it away in her new host’s pocket.
Meg quickly contemplated killing the girl who was now unconscious on the bathroom floor, but her body had been fun and she might want to take it for a spin again. She left the brunette there and figured the girl would eventually find her way back to Cheboygan. Meg would just find someone else for the blood, it shouldn’t be hard. She was sure Lilith would appreciate finding out the creature that killed Azazel was now calling himself a Winchester and happened to be an angel. Meg could hardly believe her luck. She would also finally have her revenge on her father’s murderers.
Meg dragged some poor sap out behind the bar and smiled sweetly at him before slitting his throat. She caught the blood in an ancient bowl, murmured the incantation and waited for the surface to bubble up.
“Hello, Mother,” she muttered into the bowl. “I have some information… About Father… We were wondering how his death was caused so swiftly… It was an angel. The Winchesters have an angel and one of them has made him his little whore… He lives as human now on Earth, but his powers remain intact… Yes, Mother. I’ve switched bodies. I will try the younger boy, as we originally planned. As Father wished… Thank you, Mother.”
Meg dumped the blood from her bowl, tucked it back in her bag and strolled away with a smile on her face, heading for the highway.
xx
Michael was growing impatient and Zachariah was getting nervous. Michael wasn’t particularly known for restraint and given the fact that he had manipulated time to get to this point in their story, Zachariah needed results and fast. He briefly contemplated seeking Raphael’s assistance but Raphael had his own agenda. More loyalist were Hester and Naomi but the latter was a scary bitch and the former was a cold-hearted one. They were unlikely to fall in line behind Zachariah no matter how much he asked. Now Zachariah was due for a briefing and he had absolutely nothing to report.
He straightened his tie, took a breath and pushed the heavy slab of marble inward, squaring his shoulders for the upcoming confrontation.
“Tell me some good news, Zachariah, I’m growing weary of this entire affair,” Michael said, a resigned tone in his voice. Zachariah stared at the denim-clad back of the dark-haired figure in front of him. They were technically little more than wavelengths of celestial intent but often they would resort to their favourite vessels when speaking to one another in Heaven. It made things easier if they had to pass through the collection of Human Heavens. After all, not many got into the inner sanctum where their true forms were proudly displayed. At least not on a regular basis.
“You see, Sir-”
Michael spun suddenly, his broad, firm frame intimidating, green eyes flashing in anger. “Try again.”
Zachariah couldn’t. That little toad Castiel had completely disappeared off the grid. Not only had he hidden the humans with some underhanded trickery, but he also somehow managed to leave himself relatively concealed. They couldn’t even latch on to his location long enough to begin stripping his powers. He had disappeared as effectively as Gabriel and Balthazar had, who were now presumed dead. Castiel would be the same if the Winchesters didn’t continue to be so damn hard to find.
“Are we closer to locating John?” Michael asked, eyes narrowed and conniving as a plan began to form.
Zachariah swallowed and shook his head.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael began snidely, “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“No, Sir.”
“You know, Zach, there’s one word that I really, really don’t like hearing. Hazard a guess as to what that might be?”
“‘No,’ Sir?”
“That better be your answer.”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Well give the mook a cookie. I’m shocked, Zachariah, just shocked. Now listen here you spineless dick. I don’t like you, I never pretended to like you but you have your uses. Now get me some results before I go back in time, ride John Winchester’s sorry ass forward and go look for them myself! And one of those results better fucking well be Castiel’s head on a pike. Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!”
Zachariah nodded quickly then stuttered, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good, thank the Father, now get out of my sight before I use you for target practice,” Michael dismissed him with a casual wave of a hand.
Zachariah scuttled from the room and down the hall quickly, jumping without pause into the corner-office Heaven of a miserly CEO who’d just managed to squeak by St. Peter. Zachariah slumped in the leather executive chair and pulled out a map from the top drawer of the desk as well as a roughly sketched timeline. They were eight years behind schedule and Zachariah was about to have his ass handed to him. Now where on God’s mired and trodden Earth were those stupid apes?
Previous | Masterpost | Next
November 2nd, 2005
Dean could easily admit that he didn’t want to take Sam back to school, which explained why he was in the passenger’s seat that evening and Castiel was behind the wheel. In one of Dean’s more petulant moves he refused to give the keys up when Sam demanded. When Sam threatened to take a bus back, Castiel quite literally wrestled the keys out of his husband’s pants. As the angel stormed from the room he grumbled about childish humans who had the nerve to call him a child on more than one occasion.
“What, Dean, you really think he wouldn’t go in after them? Considering all the things you guys probably get up to, reaching into your jeans is tame,” Sam laughed.
“Oh, so you’re all right with imaging brother-sex now? Would you like me to paint you a picture? Because I can, you know, in vivid detail. Won’t spare the sound effects either,” Dean snarked in return. “I’ve been brushing up on my onomatopoeia and everything.” Dean fell into a sullen pout at Sam’s eye roll and Castiel just sighed as he turned up the radio.
Dean was well-aware that he was acting childish, and perhaps he gave himself more leeway to do so now and then given that he didn’t have to concern himself with being the oldest and most mature now that Castiel was in the picture. Castiel, too, had his moments of naiveté, or those times when something just managed to escape his understanding. Despite Dean’s sometimes-regression however, he was still in this state for the same reasons as always. He needed to protect Sam, plain and simple. Ever since Dad had pushed that squalling bundle into his arms and told him to run, Dean knew that Sam was his responsibility.
There had been times in the past where Sam and Dean had been accused of being co-dependent but neither of them really cared. Just because it didn’t work for most people didn’t mean it didn’t work for Sam and Dean. Things were a little tricky to navigate once Castiel came into the picture but Sam warmed up to the older boy quickly, and perhaps there was a slight bit of admiration there as well. Sammy had always believed in angels. Despite Castiel’s brothers, Castiel wasn’t a dick and fit Sam’s understanding of angels more accurately than perhaps Dean should have allowed his little brother to believe - allowed Sam to believe because Dean had never really shared the truth about angels with the younger boy. That then brought him back to the problem at hand.
Dean’s inability to express his concern over Sam’s welfare arose because Dean had never expressed the very true concerns about Sam’s welfare to Sam. Namely that angels - as stated - were dicks, and they wanted Sam and Dean if not dead then on lockdown. Castiel hadn’t been one hundred percent sure when he fled Heaven that night to save Dean.
February 13th, 1992
Dean was sitting with his legs through the safety bar on the spinning wheel in the park. They had moved on from warmer climates and were once more where snow was a regular thing. The wood was frozen beneath his well-worn jeans and his mittens were doing little to protect his hands from the icy chill of the metal bar where he rested them, but that wasn’t what his concern was. He had his eyes squeezed shut tightly and was whispering Castiel’s name over and over again.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s voice sounded very close.
Dean nearly screamed when the angel suddenly appeared beside him, but he was able to quickly cover it up with what he hoped was a manly sounding cough and not a pathetic choke.
“Dammit, Castiel! Don’t do that, a little warning please?” Dean glared.
“How do you propose I warn you? You called for my appearance, I expected you to expect me,” Castiel seemed genuinely confused and also looked out of place sitting next to a bundled-up Dean in nothing but ratty jeans and an equally fraying t-shirt.
“Dude, you can’t just show up in the middle of winter dressed like that; people will look at you weird.”
Castiel looked down at the clothing and then turned back to Dean. “This is what my vessel was clothed in. I had no choice in the matter.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean broke in suddenly, anger in his tone. “What the hell do you mean by vessel? Don’t tell me that body belongs to some poor bastard.”
Castiel’s near perpetual frown deepened. “It may sound the same at its core but it isn’t like demon possession if that is what you are concerned about, Dean. Young Jimmy Novak is a very devout boy. He prayed for this. I could not enter without his consent and my gracious host is not awake.”
Dean tried not to react to the fact that demons actually possessed people and seemed to be able to fool everyone that they were normal. That’s what Dean gathered at least. He knew the basis of possession, he knew demons and ghosts could do it, but he figured it was more of an Exorcist barfing pea-soup kind of deal. Dean made a note to question Castiel about that later, but he had more pressing matters in mind.
“Well, whatever, just go grab one of Johnny’s coats or something. I don’t want people asking questions if anyone walks by,” Dean ordered.
“Jimmy.” Castiel corrected. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Dean kept a close watch on the spot where Castiel disappeared in order to not be startled again but the damned angel appeared at his other side instead and Dean jumped anyway at the lowly spoken:
“Hello, Dean. Now why did you call?”
Castiel did retrieve a coat like Dean asked but it didn’t seem to be a very good one. It was shabby and a bit too small and looked to be more of a spring jacket than one that was suited to mid-February in New York State.
Dean rolled his eyes. “I guess it will do from far away, but next time get a winter jacket.”
“This is the only jacket Jimmy possesses,” Castiel replied.
“Where does he live?” Dean asked.
“Illinois.”
“Jesus,” Dean murmured. Kid must freeze half to death, half the time. Dean wondered briefly what circumstances would have to occur for a teenage boy to only have one light jacket that didn’t even fit him right. He briefly entertained the thought of asking, but he’d already been out quite a while as it was and Dad told him he was only allowed to go for a few hours. He needed time to get back still.
“I gather you didn’t call me here to inquire about my vessel.”
“No, you’re right. Been trying to get you since Monday, Dude. Where have you been?”
“I apologise. I must attune myself to you more before your prayers are able to reach me on other days of the week. Even if you invoke my name, until we are bound, I can only be truly summoned by an incantation. Today is Thursday and I am that day’s patron angel which is why your prayers reached me now.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. I’m thirteen, Dude, I ain’t getting bound to anyone,” that was unfortunately the only thing that Dean had taken away from Castiel’s entire explanation. At the term, his mind had slammed on the brakes and stopped listening.
“Oh, perhaps the term has different connotations than which I intended. I have not been on Earth for several centuries and perhaps my dialogue is now a bit underdeveloped. I only meant until we know one another better. I have yet to properly familiarise myself with your soul.”
“Still sounding way more pervy than I’m comfy with, Man,” Dean grimaced.
“What did you need, Dean?” Castiel sounded just the slightest bit exasperated at where their conversation had been going so far and Dean sucked it up.
“Really, Man, I just wanna know why,” Dean said sadly.
“Why?”
“Yeah, I mean why me? Why save me? Also, how? How did you know that whatever that blazing light ball thing was would wanna kill me?”
“The simplest answer is because God has plans for you.”
That probably sounded way more ominous than Castiel had intended, but then again, Dean didn’t know for sure.
He swallowed nervously and squeaked, “Wh… what kind of plans?”
Castiel shook his head and seemed hesitant to answer at first but eventually he seemed to come to his decision and replied, “Big plans. Plans that as far as my understanding goes, were not supposed to occur until you were much, much older. The archangel Michael, however, is not known for his patience. He seemed concerned and wanted to… Get things in motion now and he needs you to do that. I was to be responsible for ensuring your compliance.”
Dean backed off suddenly, his eyes going wide, but his position had him relatively trapped. Sure he could get out, but he wouldn’t be faster than Castiel.
Castiel picked up on Dean’s sudden apprehension and instantly turned reassuring. “I have decided to go against these orders. I promise, Dean. That is why I saved you, to protect you from Michael.”
“Why?” Dean asked, still suspicious.
“I tend to be against the kidnapping of children on principle,” Castiel answered with a hint of wryness in his tone that Dean had not heard until now.
Dean smiled a little and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Castiel seemed disbelieving at Dean’s quick compliance.
“Okay,” Dean repeated. “Just, something about you Cas, I trust you. So okay.”
Castiel smiled suddenly and hid his face, looking all the younger in his teenage body.
“What?” Dean asked puzzled, a slight smile of his own in play.
“I just… No one has called me that before and meant it kindly.”
“What?” Dean repeated, growing more confused.
“Cas.”
After a quiet moment, where both were admittedly feeling a little embarrassed but equal parts pleased, Castiel finally went on to explain what it was he understood of Michael’s plan.
There was to be a large fight, the largest in fact - the Apocalypse - and Dean and Sam were apparently key players in it. They were to Michael and another brother who Castiel didn’t mention, what Jimmy was to Castiel - vessels, but not just any vessels - The perfect vessels.
Castiel had only explicitly been told that Michael wanted him to capture both Winchester boys. He was one of the younger angels who had a younger vessel on Earth, which the angels assumed would have resulted in quicker trust. Castiel was hesitant to agree from the start but Zachariah (Michael’s mouthpiece) was his superior and it was instinctive for Castiel to follow orders. He hadn’t given an affirmative answer one way or the other, but Zachariah took the lack of response for assent. It wasn’t until Castiel had eavesdropped (it was entirely accidental) and heard the words, “Once he’s here, kill the boy, put the other somewhere safe until he’s eighteen. We’ll have our victory sooner, far quicker than we were to wait originally,” that he made his decision.
Castiel then explained that under normal circumstances, humans were not allowed to be permanent vessels until they reached the age of majority in most countries. It was a caveat God placed on angels in order to protect the young. Jimmy was a few months shy of eighteen and Castiel was only taking control of him when it was required. Otherwise, he remained dormant and allowed Jimmy to function like a normal teenager, or as normal as he could under the circumstances.
Castiel then went on to explain that he wasn’t sure which boy was to be spared and which was to be murdered so he vowed to protect both regardless.
“So Michael and another dick brother of yours want to wear either Sam or me to the prom? Am I understanding that?”
“I am afraid I do not understand you, Dean,” Castiel replied.
“We act as ‘vessels’ for the big show-down,” Dean clarified.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“That ain’t happening.”
“I whole-heartedly agree.”
Dean turned fierce suddenly. “We keep this between you and me, all right? Sammy and my Dad don’t need to know. Sam would only be afraid and Dad would only worry. We’ll figure it out ourselves.”
“Dean, you are only a child,” Castiel attempted to persuade. “Besides, they will have to know at least some details so I can protect you. There are some things I have to do.”
Dean was quiet for a minute, then, “Give me some time to think it over and come up with a way to tell ‘em, all right?”
“You do not have mu-”
“I need some time,” Dean interrupted firmly.
Castiel nodded, his mouth pressed in a thin line.
Dean took a glance at his watch and cursed. “I needed to be back ten minutes ago!”
Castiel nodded again and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean screamed when he touched ground in front of their motel, looking around wild eyed.
“What the fuck?” Dean snarled.
“I took you back. Goodbye, Dean. Call again when you’ve made your decision.”
Dean cursed again and called out for Castiel to wait. The angel looked hopeful.
“Relax,” Dean shook his head. “I haven’t decided yet, just gimme a sec.”
Castiel nodded uncertainly, but waited.
Dean came out a minute later with a coat, bigger, thicker and warmer than the one Castiel was wearing and handed it over, blushing faintly.
“What is this?” Castiel asked, taking the tan material carefully.
Dean shrugged. “Dad was gonna give it away. It’s a bit small for him through the shoulders. For Jimmy. Kid must get cold. It might be big, but if he wears it over that lame excuse for a jacket he has, then he should be warm. Dude’s scrawny, probably needs all the heat he can get.”
“That’s very kind of you, Dean,” Castiel’s voice softened and dropped some of the weird formality he had been using most of the visit. The angel pulled the tan overcoat on. As expected, it almost hung off Jimmy’s slight frame but it would be warmer and at least it wasn’t too small.
Castiel turned slightly and watched it swish around his calves; he smiled wider, his entire face softening, eyes brightening and even his voice changed, “Thanks, Dean.”
Dean smiled. “No problem. Jim, right?”
The teen nodded gave a little wave and his features shifted back to Castiel’s placidity.
“Very, very kind,” Castiel repeated, almost in awe.
Without warning or word, Castiel disappeared. Dean was left staring at empty air.
“Geeze, it was just a friggin’ coat,” Dean muttered with a little smile playing on his lips.
November 2nd, 2005
The rumbling Impala pulled up in Sam’s student housing lot. There were a few lights on and the bright blue light of a yellow emergency call box a few yards away, but there were no people and no other running vehicles. It was late and dark but the warmth of the day had lingered on slightly. The near perpetual warmth was one thing Dean had to give the state credit for. He watched silently and refused to move as Sam got out of the car. Castiel just glared at Dean then shut off the vehicle and went around the back to get Sam’s bag from the trunk.
Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and saw them lean close as they murmured together, too far away and too quiet for Dean to hear. Dean huffed and refused to look any longer but not before he caught Castiel’s faint gesture and helpless headshake in Dean’s direction. Sam must have made a decision at that because he came around to Dean’s side of the car and leaned in the window.
“Cas is pissed at you, Dude,” Sam remarked idly. “You’re acting like a little bitch, you know that right? Which one of us is supposed to be older again?”
“Just go, Sam. If you wanna get away from me so bad, just go,” Dean refused to look at his brother’s face.
Sam sighed, long-suffering. “Dean, I don’t want to go like this. I never like it when we’re fighting. We just had a pretty awesome hunt, don’t you think? Shouldn’t we be happy about it? I get that you don’t like that I’m so far away, but it’s not like you’re alone. Besides, there’s no rule - written or unwritten - that you can’t visit me. You blow through here often enough I’m sure, what with hunts and everything.”
Dean felt an angry coil in his gut and burst forth with it. “What about, Dad? Huh, Sam? He’s still missing. You just gonna walk away from that? I mean, I get that you guys didn’t part on the greatest of terms, but he’s missing. Do you not even care?”
“Dammit, Dean!” Sam slapped a hand on the Impala’s roof and glared down at his brother. “Don’t say shit like that when you know it’s not true! Of course I care, but you guys don’t need my help. I’m out of the game. I’d just slow you down. Besides, I’ve built a life here, I can’t just abandon that. What about Jess, huh? You just want me to drop her and ride off in the sunset with you and Cas? I love her, Dean. Out of everyone, you should understand that.”
“We’re your family, Sam,” Dean said, voice gruff, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, well I want to make Jess my family too. Do you get it now, Dean?”
Dean blinked, taken-aback by that information, he gaped softly. The knowledge drove Dean out of the car and onto his feet. “You talking the ‘m-word,’ Sammy?”
“Yes, Dean. I got a ring and everything. I was going to propose when we celebrate my getting into law school.”
“You’re too young.”
“That’s the biggest load of fucking bull I’ve ever heard!” Sam roared suddenly. “How old were you, huh? Eighteen?”
“Fuck you, Sam, I was twenty-two,” Dean grimaced after he said it and looked away, he slammed the car door closed.
“Ah ha!” Sam crowed triumphantly. “Gee, who do we know right now who is twenty-two, huh?”
“That’s different!”
“How? How exactly is it different? Please enlighten me. Because that’s the only thing that’s been coming out of your mouth lately and I’m no closer to understanding.”
“Because, Sam, Cas knows exactly what I am! Can you say the same?” Dean was right in Sam’s face and jabbed at his brother’s chest with a hard finger.
This time, Sam flinched and turned away from Dean’s stern gaze.
Moments passed, the only sound their joint angry breathing. Castiel remained at the Impala’s tail, trying to remain as unobtrusive and invisible as possible but unwilling to venture too far in case this little battle of wills came to blows.
Eventually though, Sam seemed to deflate and just looked incredibly sad. “It doesn’t matter, because that’s not who I am anymore. This time I’m done and I mean it. I’m out. Don’t come knocking again,” Sam muttered bitterly. He went around the back of the car and squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. “Bon courage et bonsoir, Aramis.”
“Que Dieu soit avec vous, d’Artagnan,” Castiel replied, squeezing Sam’s shoulder in return. Sam nodded once, smiled sadly and walked away.
Castiel watched him go until he couldn’t see him any longer, then raised himself up to sit on the Impala’s trunk.
“All for one, one for all, my ass,” Dean muttered from where he was now leaning on the passenger side.
Castiel didn’t reply.
Neither man moved.
xx
To say that Sam was feeling like shit was an understatement but he did have seeing Jess to look forward to and that put a much-needed spring in his step. Imaging her smile and her soft coconut scent was already putting Sam at ease. Dean’s heated parting words still lingered in the back of Sam’s mind and the equally heated words Sam returned joined them, but the prospect of holding Jess in his arms tonight was enough to ease the sting slightly. Dean would come around or Sam would cave, either way, he knew they wouldn’t fight forever but while they were it still hurt.
As he approached his apartment he felt a chill creep down his spine and he slowed his steps. There was something off in the air and long-ingrained hunter’s instincts were flaring white hot in his mind. Already he felt the adrenaline begin its quick glide through his veins as he peered around in the dimly lit courtyard. A shadow caught his eye at the foot of the stairs leading to his second floor home and he cautiously approached, hand groping around in his pocket for the Taurus that Dean had bought him when he turned sixteen. He hadn’t the heart to tuck it back in the Impala’s trunk, even if Jess hated guns.
“You’re out late.”
Sam relaxed and felt a smile slide across his lips. He moved his hand away from his inner pocket and then approached the shadow. “Brady, hey, you scared me, Man. You okay?”
Brady had been Sam’s best friend almost since he started at Stanford. Brady was a good guy, but he had been having problems recently - drugs, drinking and sleeping around. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Brady to show up at odd hours when he needed help but he hadn’t come around seeking it for a little while now. Sam thought maybe he was finally doing better, but everyone was entitled to their backsliding, as long as they knew when to get help.
“No, Sam, I’m really not,” Brady said airily.
“Shit, Dude. Sucks. Well, come inside, I’ll make you some coffee and we’ll talk. Sound good?” Sam offered jovially. He was tired and not exactly in the most sociable of moods but Brady needed him and Sam refused to turn his back on his friend, especially not after the fight with Dean that Sam was already regretting. Besides he owed Brady. He had introduced Sam to Jess.
“Well you see, Sam…” Brady’s tone was off. It had an extra edge to it, a hint of danger that made the hair on Sam’s arms stand on end.
Brady continued, “…that’s kinda the problem. I was great, managed to wrangle a favour or two, got a promotion at work and this really sweet assignment - big fun. But then, then I come over here to ah… share and you know what I find? I can’t fucking get in!” Brady’s carefully modulated voice had turned to a roar at the end.
To say Sam was confused was an understatement. “Brady, wha-”
“Some fucking genius decided to ward the whole fucking building against fucking demons and whatever the hell those fucked-up scratchings all along the walls are supposed to block! So, Sam, you can imagine my distress!”
“Brady, I don’t…” Sam felt his stomach sink and his heart start to race.
Brady relaxed, suddenly at ease again and he grinned. “Wow, you’re slow. I don’t know if it’s sad or if it’s crossed the line into pathetic. Here I figured you were the brains of your little merry band of misfits but I guess that’s the little whore your brother fucks. Still haven’t figured him out, by the way. But, Sam, have you got me figured?” Brady’s smile was wicked as he stepped into the soft halo of light cast by the street-lamp. Sam looked up to see his eyes two deep shadows of black and he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light.
“What are you?” Sam whispered. “What have you done?”
“Two great questions, Sam. The first I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to, but big bro always did like to coddle you, huh Widdle Sammy? I’ll give you a hint: starts with a ‘de’ and ends with a ‘mon.’ Awesome, isn’t it?”
Sam eyes widened and he backed away. If what Brady was saying was true - and Sam now had no reason to believe it wasn’t - he had nothing on him that would protect him against a demon. He found it a little hard to recall what even worked on them. Dad had always told Dean and him that demons were rare and they had a hard time crawling out of the pit. Though Dad did have one trick with rock-salt and shotgun shells that Sam seemed to remember - he had neither. Nor did he have any way to trick Brady into a devils trap even if he could, through some miracle, find a way and a moment to draw one.
“I see them cogs a-whirling, Sammy-boy. Good on you. In fact, I’m going to reward you with telling you what the answer is to your second question. It is a little trickier though. You see, like I said, there’s some real interesting fingerpaint up around your home sweet home and fucking salt lines.
“Now, at first I thought I got lucky because the bathroom window had nothing on it and I could squeak my way though. But - and this really, really pissed me off, Sam - as soon as I touched the walls I got burned. Like holy water to the face but with more bite, know what I mean? No? Whatever. Then, you see, I got creative,” Brady grinned. “Jess really is a good girl, Sam. A real… ah… keeper. She’s so, so willing to help. All I had to do was call her up and let her know I was outside and,” Brady adopted a pathetic tone, “all messed up.” His voice returned to normal, “Worked like a charm. I thought, hey, awesome, here’s my chance to gut the little slut, burn her up all nice and crispy just like Sammy’s mommy, but you know what? And this did not help my mood at all, Sam, let me tell you. She really threw a spoke in my wheel what with that god-awful little bobble she had on around her neck - couldn’t touch her. That another one of your brother’s butt-buddy’s little trinkets?”
“What did you do?” Sam whispered, his entire body rigid.
“Well if you’d stop interrupting…” Brady rolled his eyes. “So here was another problem, I made up some bullshit story why I wouldn’t go in, had a good little sob on her shoulder and then bid her adieu. But, I still had my dilemma, didn’t I? The big boss man would be pissed as Hell (and that’s literal) if I screwed this up. Big promotion, big job, big payoff if it succeeded. So I needed it to succeed.
“Now what is it all good businessmen do when they don’t have necessary resources at their disposal or if they meet too many firewalls? Easy-peasy: outsourcing! Hired a few good men and got little Miss Sunshine all snug and secure far underground. Can’t hurt her and won’t lose the satisfaction of killing her myself until I’ve explored all options, so I got her on ice, Sammy.
“So here’s the deal, Sam: you want her back safe and sound, you do what I say. If you don’t do what I say then I’ll just get those same good men to go ahead and kill her. Bargaining chip is probably better use than a dead body anyway. You ever want to see Jess again, Sam?”
“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked through gritted teeth.
“That’s my boy. It’s simple really, all you ha-” suddenly Brady stopped midstream.
Sam stared through the darkness, panic setting in as he heard a faint choking sound come from Brady’s direction. He moved forward to see the tip of a silver blade protruding from the Judas’s chest. Blood trickled out of his mouth as his body convulsed around the light-coloured metal. Sam looked over Brady’s shoulder just as a lightning burst flared underneath Brady’s skin only to meet Castiel’s grim face.
“Are you all right, Sam?” Castiel asked once he let the body drop and returned the angel blade to wherever he pulled it from.
Sam fell to his knees, tears burning sudden and hot, rimming his eyes before trickling down his cheeks.
“No,” the young man whispered.
In that second, Dean knew something was very, very wrong but they couldn’t stay here to figure it out. He ran to his brother and tried to lift him to his feet, but the younger man had fifteen pounds and three inches on him and he wasn’t budging.
“Sammy, we gotta get out of here,” Dean gritted. He tugged at Sam again but it felt as if he were leaded. Before Dean could snap the request at Castiel, the angel was there and helping Dean with Sam as if he weighed nothing. Though the ease in the shift didn’t make it any smoother because the minute Sam was being dragged away he began fighting and thrashing against the grip.
“Dammit, Sam, calm down!” Dean shouted.
“Jess!” Sam cried out.
Dean wanted to bash his head against the wall. How could he have been so stupid? His gaze met Castiel’s in the semi-darkness. Castiel nodded, understanding immediately, and disappeared. He reappeared mere seconds later and shook his head sadly.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. Then his heart skipped a beat in his chest when a very familiar sound crept towards them on the wind - police sirens. A neighbour must have heard the shouting or a scuffle or something and called the police. It probably didn’t take much in this town to drop a bead.
“Get us outta here, Cas.”
They were in the Impala, with Dean behind the wheel in less than a second. Dean was starting her up a few seconds later and he peeled out of the dead-quiet parking lot as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. He pleaded silently that Sam would snap out of it soon enough to tell them what the fuck happened.
Castiel reached out across the seat, gripped one of Dean’s hands and held it tightly, resting on Dean’s knee. Dean squeezed back and drove on.
xx
Dean wouldn’t sit down and Castiel spent the last two hours staring at him while he paced their motel room. Sam still hadn’t said a word, just stared mutely at the wall from where he lay on his side on one of the beds. Usually Dean would book them separate rooms but he wasn’t about the leave his brother on his own this time around.
“What the fuck did that sulphuric bastard do to my little brother?” Dean snarled.
“I imagine it’s more what he told Sam, Dean,” Castiel said sadly.
“Why can’t you fix it?!”
Castiel glared. “Oh I’m sorry, Dean, there’s no cure for fucking sad!”
The cursing stopped Dean dead in his tracks and it looked for a moment like they were about to argue before Dean deflated and turned away. He didn’t sit down though, he just went to their duffle and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. Just give it time.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”
“Dean-”
“I said okay, Castiel!”
Castiel flinched and looked down at the carpet before he got up without a word and left the motel room.
Since Dean had laid claim to the whiskey bottle in their room, Castiel crossed the parking lot to the on-site bar. It looked run-down and little more than a watering hole but even cheap booze would suffice. It wasn’t as if he could ever drink enough for it to help, but the act itself and being surrounded by people occasionally seemed to.
When he entered the single room, low country music was playing from an ancient jukebox in the corner. Men in caps with grizzled beards were playing pool or sitting sullenly at tables. Castiel walked up to the bar and sat down. He ordered a few fingers of scotch and sipped it slowly.
“Work or love-life?” a petite woman with long brunette hair was on the stool next to him. He felt the hair shoot up on his arms and the back of his neck and twisted his head around quickly to see her face; nothing supernatural, just pretty in a slightly exotic way with large brown eyes and red-painted, full lips. A large part of him wondered what was causing the thudding through his veins but if she were a monster, demon or angel Castiel would be able to tell. The only thing really that caught his attention was an odd necklace that she wore. It almost looked like a symbol or sigil but he couldn’t place where it was possibly from and as such had no way of reading it. Which meant it couldn’t be something from this world.
“Both,” Castiel replied eventually. “One is conflicting with the other at the moment.”
“Oh, I totally get that,” she replied. “My work doesn’t leave me much time for long-lasting relationships. Meg, by the way.”
Castiel nodded. “Cas Winchester.”
Her eyes seemed to widen slightly but Castiel wasn’t aware of why.
She smiled and said, “Cas, huh? Funny name. That short for Casper or something?”
“Or something,” Castiel didn’t offer anymore. “That’s an interesting necklace, Miss.”
“Ooo, look at you all formal. Meg, please, just Meg. You like it? I found it at one of those lame craft sales one of my friends dragged me to. Total bore, this chick was selling kitschy jewellery and my friend wouldn’t let me leave the damn fair without buying something. So I just chose this at random. Kinda grown fond of it now.”
“It suits you,” Castiel replied.
The girl smiled mysteriously at him then said, “So, I’m not really a girl for taking it slow. Save the poetry right? Put up or shut up,” she winked. “So I’m gonna throw this out there. That love-life you mentioned, is it in an off-again phase? Because I tell ya, Cas, you’re not exactly hard to look at and I’ve been looking for a little ah… recreation if you get my meaning.”
“I um…” Castiel stuttered. It wasn’t the first woman, or man who had ever flirted with him in a bar but she certainly was the most candid about it.
“Shy?” her lips curled in a slow, cat-like smile, her hand rested high on his thigh without invitation. Castiel felt his vessel’s heart-rate increase as she leaned into his personal space, her smoke and whiskey scent underneath something more flowery and feminine tickled his nose.
“Married,” Castiel put up his hand quickly, licking his lips.
That didn’t seem to deter her. “Well that doesn’t matter if we shut-up about it. Could probably take your mind off of those problems you’re having.”
Castiel downed his drink and shook his head, standing quickly and stepping away from her. “No. Please stop. I’m terribly flattered, truly, you’re a lovely woman but I could never betray him like that. Nor would I want to.”
“Your loss,” she said airily with a shrug.
Castiel raced from the bar and back across the parking lot. He slammed the door to their motel room behind him and leaned back against it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean demanded.
“A woman just attempted to seduce me at the bar. It was very unsettling. She was very persistent. Even after I told her I was married. That was a new experience,” Castiel answered. “One I have no desire to repeat.”
Dean snorted and looked away.
Castiel set his jaw and slumped on their bed.
Interlude: Heaven and Hell
With a sigh Meg slid off of the barstool and sauntered to the washrooms at the back. She pushed open the Ladies’ and went to the last stall on the far end, opening the door to reveal a petite blonde woman, legs and hands bound, a gag over her mouth. Her heavily mascaraed blue eyes were wet with tears, little streaks sketched out in black along her cheeks. Meg cocked her head at the woman and smiled slowly; she leaned forward and removed the gag and before the blonde could scream Meg pressed their lips together, expelling her essence from the brunette’s body.
Once she had settled in the blonde, Meg stood and rotated her neck, snapping the bonds easily and dumping the gag to the ground. The brunette was stirring, eyes wide and terrified, she seemed as if she were about to scream now but Meg backhanded her across the face and leaned down to rip the necklace off of her. She tucked it away in her new host’s pocket.
Meg quickly contemplated killing the girl who was now unconscious on the bathroom floor, but her body had been fun and she might want to take it for a spin again. She left the brunette there and figured the girl would eventually find her way back to Cheboygan. Meg would just find someone else for the blood, it shouldn’t be hard. She was sure Lilith would appreciate finding out the creature that killed Azazel was now calling himself a Winchester and happened to be an angel. Meg could hardly believe her luck. She would also finally have her revenge on her father’s murderers.
Meg dragged some poor sap out behind the bar and smiled sweetly at him before slitting his throat. She caught the blood in an ancient bowl, murmured the incantation and waited for the surface to bubble up.
“Hello, Mother,” she muttered into the bowl. “I have some information… About Father… We were wondering how his death was caused so swiftly… It was an angel. The Winchesters have an angel and one of them has made him his little whore… He lives as human now on Earth, but his powers remain intact… Yes, Mother. I’ve switched bodies. I will try the younger boy, as we originally planned. As Father wished… Thank you, Mother.”
Meg dumped the blood from her bowl, tucked it back in her bag and strolled away with a smile on her face, heading for the highway.
xx
Michael was growing impatient and Zachariah was getting nervous. Michael wasn’t particularly known for restraint and given the fact that he had manipulated time to get to this point in their story, Zachariah needed results and fast. He briefly contemplated seeking Raphael’s assistance but Raphael had his own agenda. More loyalist were Hester and Naomi but the latter was a scary bitch and the former was a cold-hearted one. They were unlikely to fall in line behind Zachariah no matter how much he asked. Now Zachariah was due for a briefing and he had absolutely nothing to report.
He straightened his tie, took a breath and pushed the heavy slab of marble inward, squaring his shoulders for the upcoming confrontation.
“Tell me some good news, Zachariah, I’m growing weary of this entire affair,” Michael said, a resigned tone in his voice. Zachariah stared at the denim-clad back of the dark-haired figure in front of him. They were technically little more than wavelengths of celestial intent but often they would resort to their favourite vessels when speaking to one another in Heaven. It made things easier if they had to pass through the collection of Human Heavens. After all, not many got into the inner sanctum where their true forms were proudly displayed. At least not on a regular basis.
“You see, Sir-”
Michael spun suddenly, his broad, firm frame intimidating, green eyes flashing in anger. “Try again.”
Zachariah couldn’t. That little toad Castiel had completely disappeared off the grid. Not only had he hidden the humans with some underhanded trickery, but he also somehow managed to leave himself relatively concealed. They couldn’t even latch on to his location long enough to begin stripping his powers. He had disappeared as effectively as Gabriel and Balthazar had, who were now presumed dead. Castiel would be the same if the Winchesters didn’t continue to be so damn hard to find.
“Are we closer to locating John?” Michael asked, eyes narrowed and conniving as a plan began to form.
Zachariah swallowed and shook his head.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael began snidely, “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“No, Sir.”
“You know, Zach, there’s one word that I really, really don’t like hearing. Hazard a guess as to what that might be?”
“‘No,’ Sir?”
“That better be your answer.”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Well give the mook a cookie. I’m shocked, Zachariah, just shocked. Now listen here you spineless dick. I don’t like you, I never pretended to like you but you have your uses. Now get me some results before I go back in time, ride John Winchester’s sorry ass forward and go look for them myself! And one of those results better fucking well be Castiel’s head on a pike. Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!”
Zachariah nodded quickly then stuttered, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good, thank the Father, now get out of my sight before I use you for target practice,” Michael dismissed him with a casual wave of a hand.
Zachariah scuttled from the room and down the hall quickly, jumping without pause into the corner-office Heaven of a miserly CEO who’d just managed to squeak by St. Peter. Zachariah slumped in the leather executive chair and pulled out a map from the top drawer of the desk as well as a roughly sketched timeline. They were eight years behind schedule and Zachariah was about to have his ass handed to him. Now where on God’s mired and trodden Earth were those stupid apes?
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