Blank Pages Part 12
Blank Pages: Blood To Blood
Crowley had reclined the passenger seat as far as it would go, and he let himself sink into it with every breath, eyes closed and his hands folded across his chest. But every breath hurt, rattling in his lungs like death had a grip on him, on his host. “Hey,” he said suddenly, cracking open an eye, “Bobby, do you know anything about Purgatory?”
On the driver’s side Bobby raised an eyebrow, frowning, “Not much, no.”
“It’s the place things like me go when we get what we’re due,” Crowley drawled, nodding slightly and sounding for all the world as though he was bored despite the subject at hand. “I tried to find it once. I thought that because it’s supposed to lie between Heaven and Hell that I, of all people, could find it. Since I have dwelled in both.” He shrugged, staring up at the ceiling of the car with a grim expression set on his face.
“The only thing between here and there is this pocket of mud,” Bobby smirked, “Take it or leave it.”
The demon rolled his eyes, “I have, for thousands of years. But I’m afraid I’m going to be a few years short of seeing the next century.” He frowned, feeling the Hunter’s eyes on him, “I’ve fought a hundred wars, fucked my way through all manners of history’s brightest, and stopped two apocalypses. I’m good.”
Bobby tightened his hands on the wheel, “What’s with the last words? I thought Team Free Will was all about dodging the bullet.”
“With style,” Crowley added, smiling. “Dodge all you want, but someday you just get too worn out to keep running.” He looked away, “I’ve lost the one thing that kept me from giving in all these years. I’m done.”
The Hunter snorted, “And we’re nothing to you? The times you risked your life for those boys and their cause, for me, are worthless‘?”
Crowley chuckled softly, “Hardly. The boys are a pain in my butt and their angels ten times worse. And you . . .” He paused, grinning, “Are the worst crotchety old fool I’ve ever met. Which is saying something with how long I’ve been around.”
“Why thank you,” Bobby huffed.
The demon nodded, sitting up and gesturing towards the side of the road, “Park there, would you? We’re close to the boys’ motel now. Better if we approach from a distance in case that bastard is there.”
“Bastard . . .” Bobby started, the question unspoken.
“Whatever angel or demon killed Aziraphale,” Crowley clarified before he got out of the car and leaned against the door as he closed I. “So, I say that we go in all stealthy like,” he went on once Bobby had come to lean against the truck at his side, “And then basically just storm the castle once we’re close enough. Kapeesh?”
“Sounds reckless.”
“Sounds bloody brilliant to me,” Crowley laughed. He moved then, turning to grab a hold of the front of Bobby’s checked shirt and pulling until their lips clashed together. Bobby started and the demon let him go, rocking back on his heels, “Just thought I might give that back to you.”
Bobby raised an eyebrow, scrubbing at his mouth, “Give what back you idjit?”
Crowley smirked, “Your soul. I’ll let you hang on to the legs free of charge too.”
The Hunter blinked and turned his gaze down to stare at the blacktop between them, “You’re really not planning to leave here, are ya.”
“Sorry, love, not this time,” Crowley murmured, pausing to reach up to squeeze the other’s shoulder, “Just so you know though, you suck at chess.”
Bobby laughed.
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Dean knew it would take awhile to get used to the feeling of waking up with someone beside him, limbs tangled together (and in this case, wings as well), and the tickle of warm breath against his neck. But he knew that he would, given time.
What he would hopefully never get used to was the sudden, panicked scrabble of Castiel’s fingers against his skin, and the muffled cry of someone who was trying to call out just before a hand stifled any noise. Dean sat up so fast that his head spun, and he blinked rapidly as he tried to clear both sleep and dizzying blood rush from his senses. He reached for the hands that had only a moment before clawed desperately at his skin ad froze, arm stretched out just inches away from Castiel as his eyes took in the sight before him.
A stranger, an angel by the way his blue eyes seemed to bear that same knowing glow Cass’ and Gabriel’s did, held Castiel against him, one arm wrapped around the smaller angel’s shoulders to cover his mouth. The other hand twisted one of Castiel’s pure white wings in a way that clearly hurt, and the smaller angel writhed in panic and pain each time the larger angel clenched strong fingers around the joint in his wing. The strange angel gazed at Dean with that same, odd, infinite calm Castiel had had when they’d first met and his faded blue eyes flickered in way that made Dean’s breath catch in fear. This angel wasn’t joking around, and as he straightened, Castiel still pinned against him remaining smothered by his hand, Dean couldn’t help but be sickeningly reminded of Raphael.
“Another Mutant Ninja Angel?” he asked sarcastically, watching the other’s every movement. His whole body itched to just launch across the space between them and snatch Castiel back, but the way the smaller angel’s eyes rolled back in his head when the other tugged at his wing again stopped him. One wrong move and Cass would probably lose that wing. Dean didn’t want to go through that again.
“Hardly,” the angel said lightly, “Raphael and I are nothing alike.”
“Really?” Dean snapped, quickly losing his patience, “Because Raphael had a vendetta against me and Cass too.”
The other laughed, the sound gravelly and dark, and he raised an amused eyebrow as Dean stiffened, “I’m not after you or your booty-call angel, Winchester. I came for the archangel, and since I assume he’s been traveling with you . . .”
“We don’t know where he is,” Dean said, a little too hastily, and the other frowned.
“Oh? Well I hate to break it to you, but that’s the wrong answer,” the angel shifted, lifting his hand from Castiel’s nose and mouth as he wrenched the smaller’s wing right out of it’s socket.
Castiel screamed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Sam stared at the door to the hotel for a long, long time, his arms tightening around Gabriel’s shoulders with every second that passed. He wouldn’t let the archangel go in there, not again. “What happens if we just . . . Refuse to go through this again?” he asked softly, not daring to look down and meet Gabriel’s eyes, knowing the other was watching him.
“We’re stuck here, forever, in this spot. We can’t just wander around the street inside a memory, I have to follow the same path I did the first time around, or nothing happens at all.” Gabriel swallowed, pushing away from the Hunter with grim determination, “I . . . I can’t let you stay trapped in my head, Sammy. Come on.” He stood, turning to face the entrance to the hotel.
“No!” Sam practically leapt to his feet, grabbing the Trickster’s wrist and tugging him back until they stood toe to toe, the startled angel staring up at him in surprise. “I won’t let you die for us again,” Sam hissed as he raised his other hand to touch the side of Gabriel’s face.
Gabriel leaned into the touch and shook his head, “It’s a memory, Sam, I don’t think I can die again.”
“You don’t think,” Sam echoed, disbelieving, “If there was any doubt you’d stay here!”
The archangel laughed then, reaching up to place his hands on Sam’s cheeks, drawing his head down so that they were almost eyelevel, “Idiot,” he whispered, “I died for you. And I would do so a thousand times over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.” Sam inhaled sharply as Gabriel stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, stealing all the air he’d just sucked in away as their lips collided. “Okay?” he asked before pulling away a bit so that their noses brushed as he spoke.
No, Sam wanted to say, not okay. Because that hadn’t felt like a kiss between lovers, friends, or whatever they were (he really wasn’t sure), it had felt like a kiss that whispered, “Goodbye,” in the breath that it took away. But Sam, with Gabriel’s pleading eyes on him, only nodded and prayed that he was wrong.
The next instant they were standing in the dining area of the hotel, Gabriel between him and Lucifer. Sam caught sight of his own back as Dean herded him and Kali out the door and into the lobby, away from the Devil, and he looked away, laying a hand on the archangel’s shoulder as Gabriel drew out an angel blade. When he did so, however, his hand connecting with the fabric of Gabriel’s jacket, he knew something was wrong.
Lucifer circled his younger brother, eyes gleaming, and Sam watched him warily. He couldn’t figure out why this whole situation didn’t feel right. The Hunter wasn’t even listening to the Devil’s drone about family and brotherhood, and he jolted as he realized what was wrong.
This Gabriel, the one he was touching, was cold, in that familiar eerie way he had been when Dean had killed him the first time on the college campus.
A fake, a copy.
Lucifer knew it too. A split second after Sam saw the real Trickster appear behind his brother, so too did the fallen angel, whirling and fisting a hand around the blade the real Gabriel was about to plunge into his back and shoving it instead right into the archangel’s stomach. Sam howled, the illusion in front of him disappearing as Lucifer tugged the short sword free. Gabriel fell to the ground, the white light of his Grace exploding and then fading from his eyes and mouth. Just like that, the Devil was gone, taking one last look at the sibling he’d slain before vanishing as if he’d never been there at all.
Sam moved, sliding across the wooden floor to Gabriel’s side, pressing a hand against the flow of blood from the wound in the Trickster’s gut, though he knew it would do no good. He lifted his other hand and stared at the black smudge streaked across his palm from where he’d touched the ashen imprint of wings on the ground, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat.
Any moment now Gabriel would get up and they could get out of here, out of this hell-hole of memories and back to Dean and Castiel at the motel. But Gabriel didn’t stir. He lay still, his body quickly cooling under Sam’s fingers. The Hunter choked back a sob, taking the angel’s face between his hands and pressing their foreheads together and gulping down air to hold back the anguish that threatened to overwhelm him. Tilting his head he kissed the other’s unresponsive lips, a last desperate attempt.
“Happily Ever After . . .”
He tried again, drawing away slower this time, his eyes flickering helplessly across Gabriel’s motionless form, over candy-gold eyes frozen in shock and stained wing marks spanning the length of the room. Nothing happened.
“No,” Sam whispered hoarsely, “Not like this. Kali said this would save you, not kill you all over again! This isn’t what I wanted!”
The sound of footsteps met his ears then and Sam stilled, afraid he’d turn and find Lucifer had returned to destroy what little remained of his brother. But when he looked up, expecting the worse, he was surprised to come face to face with a different angel.
Aziraphale peered down at him behind his glasses, straight at him in a way that Sam was sure was not a part of the original memory, if this was part of it in any way at all. “You-” Sam started.
“Kissing him won’t work you know,” Aziraphale said, cutting him off and glancing between his brother and the Hunter, “Your story is not the star-crossed love that Dean and Castiel share.”
Star-crossed. That was one he’d have to remember to taunt Dean with later. “Then what is it?” Sam asked, a lump forming in his throat he could barely swallow past, “What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” Aziraphale concluded, kneeling down beside him and pressing his first two fingers to Gabriel’s forehead, “You and my brother were never meant to be, no matter what he felt for you.”
“Felt . . .”
Aziraphale cast him a sidelong glance, “You were his favorite, his beloved in a way none of his other charges ever were. In them, Jesus, Merlin, and Joan, he saw a child that needed a hand to hold. In you, he only saw humanity at it’s finest, flawed, broken, pure in ways no one but him could ever understand, and willing to forgive.” He looked away again and lifted his fingers, “You know, he once told me you had the most beautiful soul he’d ever seen, more so than Lucifer’s Grace before he fell.” The angel paused, looking at the Hunter out of the corners of his eyes, “I see that now.”
Sitting back, Aziraphale twirled his hand around in the air above Gabriel’s still form, like one would a fork in pasta. Sam watched, heart in his throat, as a strong of silver-blue Grace wound around his outstretched fingers, curling up the other angel’s arm. He stood then, holding the appendage that glowed from index finger to shoulder towards Sam, waiting as the human held his arms outstretched, not knowing what the angel wanted from him. Behind them, Gabriel’s body shattered like glass and dispersed into a thousand tiny pieces. The light of the Grace fell from Aziraphale’s arm and into Sam’s hovering just above his skin in a roiling mess before the light went out, and Sam barely had time to react before he caught the thing that fell into his arms.
It was Gabriel as Sam had last seen him outside the memories, a child of no more than four, curling into the warmth of Sam’s chest as he clutched the fledgling to him, relief coursing through him. The Hunter looked up, a thank you on the edge of his tongue until he took in the sight of an empty room, and his heart immediately took root in his throat again as it started to swim around him.
“You and my brother were never meant to be, no matter what he felt for you.”
Dean roared in anger, leaping to his feet in an effort to get to Castiel, who had gone limp in the enemy angel’s arms, but the other simply raised a hand and the oldest Winchester felt himself freeze in place. Not now, not like this. He’d just gotten Cass back, he did not need to deal with this shit.
His eyes darted to the fringes of the room as something snapped and the lights flickered. The curtains, tightly drawn, rattled on their rods as if disturbed by an absent wind. Sam was crouched near the door. Gabriel, still a fledgling, was tucked against his chest. The adversary angel’s eyes instantly went to him, a sick grin lighting up his face.
He dropped Castiel and Dean was instantly at the fallen angel’s side, freed of the hold that had been over him. His fingers flew across his angel’s chest and face, checking for any other injuries besides the wing that hung askew.
Across the room, Sam tightened his hold on the motionless fledgling and glared up at the angel that stalked towards him like a starving cat, “Balthazar,” he breathed, not entirely surprised.
Balthazar paused, raising an eyebrow, “I don’t believe we’ve met, human.”
Sam bared his teeth at him, but didn’t reply, shielding Gabriel as much as possible from the angel’s hungry gaze. “What do you want from him?” he snapped, muscles coiling as he prepared to fight the other off, to dodge a blow or to simply run and get them to safety.
“What does anyone want?” Balthazar laughed, “Power, revenge, a better life in general, the usual.”
“And you plan to take it from him?” Sam snarled, scootching back until he came in contact with the wall. He started as he realized he had nowhere to go.
Behind Balthazar, Dean leaned over Castiel, gripping the angel’s shoulder as he snapped his wing back into his socket with one fluid motion, covering the other’s mouth with a hand when Castiel jolted, another cry threatening to escape him as he jerked back into consciousness. The youngest angel rolled over onto his side, Dean pressing his forehead against his opposite shoulder in silent relief. “Balthazar,” Castiel whispered, just loud enough for Dean to hear, “I thought he was dead.”
“Yeah,” Dean huffed, “We tend to think that about a lot about things that aren’t really dead. Just sayin’.” He sat up a little, keeping a hand on his angel as he eyed the situation for a loophole. “Cass, do you think you could get between him and Sam and get Gabriel out of here? As long as the kid is in the room Sam won’t attack, he’s too scared of hurting him.”
“Then you grab Balthazar from behind,” Castiel murmured, before pushing himself to his knees and saying the words near Dean’s ear as he pressed his blade into the Hunter’s hand, “Try not to get yourself killed.”
“I think that’s my line after last time,” Dean joked grimly, curling a hand around the hilt of the blade. “On three.”
It was some sort of unspoken rule that “On three” really just meant now, and Castiel disappeared and reappeared between Balthazar and Sam. He snatched the tiny archangel up and vanished into thin air, leaving only one shocked angel and two Hunters. Balthazar started, opening his mouth to say something only to feel the press of Castiel’s angel knife against his throat.
“Wanna try that again?” Dean growled behind him while Sam stumbled to his feet, fists clenched at his sides.
Balthazar stood statue still, breath coming in startled gasps as he tried to keep his skin away from the metal of the blade against his Adam’s apple. “Actually,” he said softly, “I think I might.”
All the air whooshed out of Dean as he was flung back against the opposite wall, a hand yanking Castiel’s knife from his hands over a triumphant cry of, “Angel, remember?” and as his head hit the wall, making him see stars behind his eyes. He heard the pained gasp before his vision came back into focus just in time to see Sam with Castiel’s knife protruding from his chest, Balthazar leering over him. “How many times is this now, Winchester?” the angel said gleefully as the blood began to bubble up in Sam’s mouth, the younger brother coughing and gagging on it as his hands scrabbled weakly at the hilt of the blade sticking out of his chest, “Four, five? I think with this one you might beat your brother in ‘Who’s died the most,’ don’t you?”
“No!” Dean howled, trying to get to his feet as the door burst open.
Castiel was there, holding a squirming and flailing Gabriel, who shrieked at the sight in the room. But it wasn’t Cass who surged across the room, the glint of metal in hand, yellow eyes alight with rage.
It was Crowley.
Balthazar jerked back, the blade in the demon’s hand nicking his cheek as he tugged Castiel’s knife out of Sam’s chest, ignoring the Hunter’s gasp of pain. “Ooh! Caphriel, I didn’t know you had it in you! Missing your little angel-boy, are you?” He sneered, catching Crowley’s wrist as the demon swung at him again, “Some revenge this is,” he said coolly, examining the blade held just inches from his heart, trapped between his fingers, “A poor revenge you’ve planned though, this weapon was not meant for the likes of me.” Balthazar grinned, “How the mighty have fallen, demon. I would have thought better of you.”
“And I of you,” Crowley snarled, “But apparently you are still as daft as the day you hatched!” His other arm arced through the air, platinum silver dagger embedding itself in the Balthazar’s throat, “I’m still an angel, you wanker, no matter how long ago I fell.”
Balthazar gurgled, slumping against the demon and falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Against the puce colored carpet of the motel, the light of his Grace burst from his eyes and the ashen print off his wings stretched out across the room, staining the walls and the mattresses in it’s span. The demon smiled grimly and sank to his knees, resting his head in his hands and sucking in a choked breath.
Dean made his way across the room to where Sam lay, falling at his brother’s side and wadding up his favorite leather jacket, pressing it into the gaping hole in Sam’s chest. “Shit, no, no, no,” he hissed between breaths, eyes widening as the blood pooled in Sam’s mouth as he tried to breath, spilling out when he choked on it and gagged. “Cass, do something!”
“I can’t,” Castiel said, and Dean’s eyes snapped to him, “the bond . . . The blood bond he entered with Gabriel prevents me from-”
“Gabe is still a squirt! And if Balthazar could fucking stab him, then you can heal him, something obviously didn’t work!” Dean pressed his coat into the wound harder, crimson seeping through the material. Too fast, too much.
But it was not Castiel who knelt beside the dying Hunter, and Dean fixed startled eyes on the fledgling as he pushed the jacket aside, pressing tiny hands to the wound, blood oozing out between his fingers. When Gabriel spoke, it was not the same, hesitant voice of a four year old Dean was accustomed to by then, though the pitch and youth of it was the same. His words were perfect and unwavering, confident in every breath. “Samuel Winchester, do you complete this blood oath, under the eyes of my Father and your Lord, under the goddess Kali who enacted it and the witnesses who stand here to see it through?”
“Yes,” Sam choked, coughing as scarlet dripped out from between his lips as he spoke.
Gabriel smiled, and Dean met his honey eyes for a split second, taking in the grim resolution in them with a heavy heart. The fledgling leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on the edge of Sam’s stained red lips, “Then I give you my life,” he whispered, “As you were willing to give me yours.”
Beneath the angel’s hands, the gash on Sam’s chest began to glow with the unearthly silver blue of Grace. Sam gasped and arched up against the touch, coughing hard and expelling more blood from his throat and mouth before he sucked in a breath. His skin began to stitch together, leaving a tight, pink scar beneath the Trickster’s fingers as he pulled away.
Chest heaving, Sam twisted his head to the side to stare at the fledgling, opening his mouth to ask something, but the question never came.
Gabriel stood, taking two steps back so that he was out of Sam’s immediate reach. Tiny sparks of light had begun to lift away from his body, evaporating into the air above his head. The lights grew, urethral balls detaching themselves an floating away from the angel one by one until he was surrounded by them as they hurriedly dispersed into the air. And with every illuminated orb, Gabriel became less and less there, appearing almost transparent to Sam’s eyes.
“No,” the word finally escaped the younger Winchester, but when he tried to move Dean held him down. “This isn’t what I wanted, Gabriel!” It was the second time he’d spoken those words in the last hour, and his throat tightened around him.
“Since when does anyone get what they want?” Gabriel laughed bleakly, voice breaking. “What we want and what we get are never the same, Sammy. If anything, that was what you should have learned from my memories.” He shrugged, staring at the ground as he flickered in and out of existence, not too unlike a ghost, “I’m glad, Sam, that you were willing to give your life for me. No one ever has before.” The fledgling angel smiled, and shook his head to banish invisible tears from his eyes, “Thank you.”
“Gabriel-” Sam stretched out his hand as far as he could reach with Dean practically sitting on him to keep him still.
Gabriel leaned down and touched the Hunter’s palm with the tips of his fingers, “We will meet again, Sam. I will find you.”
“I will find you.”
Sam sobbed, watching the last of the lights lift into the air and vanish, leaving nothing of the archangel in their wake.