Fic - Crossing the Rubicon

Dec 05, 2011 11:48

Title: Crossing the Rubicon - Part Six
Author: Lady Eternal
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Word Count: 3,286 - this part
Spoilers: If you’ve watched all of Season Five, none. Specific spoilers for episode 5x18.

Warnings: possible abuse of expository devices, rough sex, angst, canon minor character death, OMCs
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, certain events would NEVER have happened and there would be unabashed pr0n. I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and am only playing with this world for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.

Author’s Note: Angelic Mates ‘verse version of Point of No Return. This fic has been circling around my WiP folder for a while, and it’s finally where I want it. Thanks for that in no short supply go to my beta, secondplatypus, who is an unconquerable soul. Hope you all enjoy.

Feedback is adored, so if you like the fic, please comment! And the more details the better; I love knowing what people like about my work.

Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Part Five



~ooooOOOoooo~

Abariel and Gamaliel hadn’t yet returned. Sam didn’t like it; without the other two seraphim nearby, it felt like they would be spread too thin, leaving them vulnerable. But he and Castiel couldn’t delay Operation Rescue Dean From His Self-Sacrificing Streak any longer.

They’d agreed that Bobby should stay behind as well; he hadn’t been a target of either angels or demons since his paralysis, and if Gabriel needed anything, Bobby was experienced enough to be of help. Sam and Cas would fly Angel Express to Van Nuys and try to fight their way to Dean before Dean either gave up Adam’s location or said yes to breaking the bond and becoming Michael’s Vessel.

Adam had watched their preparations with large blue eyes and a silent, serious face. Sam couldn’t guess what Adam was thinking and wished he had time to talk to his brother, to find out how much of the man the ghoul had echoed, how much of their family’s legacy had bred true despite his isolation from them. But Dean couldn’t afford the delay and he wouldn’t ask Cas to accept one. Family bonding would have to wait.

Just as he and Cas were about to leave, Adam appeared at Sam’s side. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, obviously full. “I’m coming.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Like Hell you are!”

There was a stubborn set to Adam’s jaw that reminded Sam of his father and brother far too well for his liking. “I was premed before I got eaten and I’ve been certified in first aid, CPR and life-guarding by our local EMTs since I was fourteen. If you and Castiel are busy with angels and Dean’s wounded, I can handle it. He’s there because of me. I’m coming.”

Gabriel watched Sam waver, wanting to order Adam to stay behind but seeing the logic in his accompanying them. “Sam…” He watched those hazel eyes snap to his own, saw how they pleaded for his help. “Command decision time, gorgeous,” he said softly in Enochian. “You can’t always keep people out of the line of fire.”

“It could be a trap,” Sam prevaricated. “They could just be holding Dean hoping I show up with Adam in tow. Taking him could play right into their hands.”

“It could,” Gabriel agreed. “Any way they can win, they’ll take. But it’s your call… just like me staying behind was.”

It was a reminder, subtle but effective, that Sam was in charge of this plan. That he’d made a decision both strategic and emotional when it came to leaving Gabriel behind. Sam still hesitated, uncertain about assuming the authority that had always been Dean’s, even when a part of him did so automatically.

*You’re a scion of Michael and Lucifer both, gorgeous,* Gabriel reminded him silently. *Command is written in your bones, just like it is in Dean’s. You can’t let yourself be afraid of your birthright just because you’ve always had more of Lucifer in your personality than Michael. In the end, they’re both there, in both of you, and it’s how you use that that matters.*

For a long moment, Sam held Gabriel’s gaze, making a mirror of bright amber eyes against the conflict in his heart. He wasn’t used to being responsible for other people; usually, Sam was only alpha on a hunt when he was hunting by himself. When Dean was with him, Sam had always let Dean lead, arguing the plan until he brought Dean around to his way of thinking if he disagreed.

But Dean wasn’t the brother staring up at him now, waiting for his acceptance with that mulish set to his jaw that seemed to be part of the Winchester genetic code. Dean was in need of rescue, the innocent rather than the hunter or hunted. And Adam wanted to help.

It was a start.

“You only move in when I tell you to,” Sam finally ordered, fixing his younger brother with cool green-flecked eyes. “You’re not a hunter and I don’t have time to measure how good you are in a fight. You get Dean and get out of there; I don’t care what’s happening in that room. Understand?”

Adam nodded silently.

Not caring about what anyone else thought, Sam stepped close, bent and brushed a soft kiss over Gabriel’s mouth. “I’ll come back,” he promised quietly.

“I know.” Gabriel didn’t want to let him go; knew he needed to. Greater powers than his had attempted to keep the Winchester brothers from trying to save one another, and all had failed. “Go, before you pick up any more passengers for this little road trip.”

Sam nodded. Castiel, silent as death during the exchange, stepped between Sam and Adam. *Do not fear, brother, he assured Gabriel silently. *I will make sure Sam has a clear path to Dean. As much danger to our mates as I can prevent, I will. I promise.*

Gabriel nodded in response, and with a brush of Castiel’s fingers against the mortals’ temples, they vanished through time and space.

* * *

It was the decision that made sense. Strategically, Dean couldn’t ignore that. Sam was prevented from being forced, and even if Sam was told how the bond could be broken, Dean didn’t believe for a second that Sam would do it. His little brother needed the balance, the grounding that Gabriel gave him too much. If it was only love at stake, he wouldn’t be as sure, but Sam recognized the stability that Gabriel gave him, insulating Sam against the darkness that Azazel and Lilith and Ruby and Lucifer had all worked so hard to bring out of him. And Dean knew Gabriel needed Sam on a level that no one would guess without the bindings that wove between them.

Dean loved Castiel. There was no question of that. But he wasn’t in nearly as much danger as Sam was. Had gone without anyone to ground him for most of his life. He’d be all right, and so would Castiel. And it wasn’t like they couldn’t be together without the bond.

Adam had been resurrected to be used, and it had been Zachariah doing the talking. Michael had made personal promises to Dean beyond not leaving him a gibbering vegetable when their task was completed. Much as he hated to think about it, something old and powerful in his bones told him that Michael hadn’t been lying. If Michael made him a promise, he would keep it.

Without Sam to act as Lucifer’s vessel, Michael would jump at the chance to have his Perfect Vessel in the final fight; it would be an advantage the archangel couldn’t resist, with how obsessed he was to follow God’s Last Command to his Firstborn son. That meant Dean could set the price, and Michael would pay it.

He could ensure the safety of those he loved. Bobby and Lisa and Ben and Cassie. Sam and Adam. Gabriel and his seraphs. He could insist upon clemency for Castiel. Full pardon, total immunity from punishment. He could demand that Michael allow him and Castiel to be together when it was all over.

They would all be safe. His sacrifice would keep them safe. And ultimately, he was sure Castiel would understand. His mate might hate him for it for a while, but when all was done and they were together again, unharried by Heaven and unshadowed by Destiny, Castiel would forgive him. They could get past it.

But Dean felt guilty enough to need to tell Castiel the decision was made before Michael was the one doing the talking.

Slowly, he opened the bond again, seeking Castiel. It wouldn’t be easy to say, but Dean loved Castiel too much. He would make himself say it…

Swords flashing. Flickers of power, movements faster than the eye could see. Castiel was nearby. Just outside the boundary. He’d engaged one of the cherubim guarding the room. Dean’s heart froze as the blade came close… so close…

A rush of strength. Of pure will. Castiel reversed the blade and drove it down, through the cherub’s chest, grace flashing bright as it died.

Others. Four more, closing, circling like wolves ready to avenge a fallen packmate. Dean wanted to shout, to warn him. Castiel stood, wary but unafraid, watching them with fierce eyes as the noose drew imperceptibly tighter.

“What are you waiting for?” he snarled, a low growl of impatience as he threw down the cherub’s blade. Dean’s entire being surged in panic as it clattered, fear washing through him like ice. “Come on.”

The noose closed. They were advancing, blades scything, ready to strike… Dean shouted a warning as Castiel tore open his shirt and slammed his palm against his heart…

Nothing in Hell had prepared him. Nothing could have.

Magnesium flame burning bone deep, searing away flesh. Dean’s body crumpled into itself as the fire refused to die, consuming and consuming and consuming until there felt like nothing left and still it burned down through his soulmindbodygracewingsFatherhelpmepleaseithurtsithurtsohGoditburnspleasestopmakeitstopPLEASE…

Hands pulling him up. Dean screamed, didn’t know he’d already been screaming, the contact driving through him like broken glass as he was pulled to his feet, pulled back to himself by the sound of a panicked mortal voice calling his name. Slow, so slow, Dean’s vision cleared enough to see the face pinched with fear above his own.

Blue eyes: not hazel, not blue enough. Blonde hair, not brown or black. “Adam…”

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” Adam insisted. “Can you walk?”

Flame still ripped across every inch of his flesh, but the burn was fading, finally dimming… flickering low and insidious… emptiness echoed in its wake, hollowing him out until he would shatter like brittle clay beneath Adam’s fingertips… realization dawning with unflinching horror… “Cas…?”

“Gone.”

Dean’s vision swam as both he and Adam’s heads shot up. Zachariah stood before them, his smile cruel. Dean shoved Adam behind him, teeth slamming down on the wrenched sound of pain that clawed up in his throat. “You sonuva-”

“Now I’ve been patient,” the archangel continued, almost as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “This assignment’s taught me patience all over again; not easy, mind you, for a creature that’s been alive since before the Creation of this insipid mudball.” One hand lifted, opening in an almost blossoming motion. Adam stumbled away from Dean’s back; Dean half-spun in time to see blood choking up through his youngest brother’s lips. “But even Heaven’s patience has its limits, Dean. You felt the pain of Castiel’s self-banishment? Imagine what it will feel like when we carve out his grace a piece at a time.”

A flicker of movement. Dean couldn’t even manage to shout before Sam was at Zachariah’s back, nearly on top of him, the bloody cherubic short sword Castiel had discarded poised to strike…

Zachariah turned, one hand flashing up…

Sam was stumbling as lightening burst between them, flinging Zachariel back. There was the faintest shimmer of bright teal wings as Zachariel righted himself and stared at Sam. “Impossible…”

“Dean, get Adam and get out of here.” Sam held the cherubic blade low, never taking his eyes from Zachariel. “Hurry.”

“How?” Zachariel demanded. Threads of fury cracked in his voice, betraying the creature beneath the pale, paunched flesh. “It’s not possible…”

Ignoring him, Sam edged towards his brothers, blade still canted in threat. Dean forced himself through the pain, forced himself to move… to think beyond the hollow pain that still burned across the bond and reach for Adam…

“Gabriel?” Zachariel’s voice was incredulous. “You’re mate-bound to Gabriel?”

When Sam didn’t answer, merely sneered, Zachariel responded with pain.

How he got past Gabriel’s shield, Dean didn’t know. He hadn’t known there was a shield to get around until it was Zachariel that went flying back instead of Sam on the first salvo. But now Sam was blasted off his feet, a scream tearing free as he was flung like a rag doll across the room, his limp form tumbling to the floor after slamming into a wall with stunning force.

“Leave them alone!” Dean snapped. It should have been a threat, or a demand. Pain and fear and bone-deep weariness made it into a plea, nearly begging. Dean found he didn’t care. “Dammit, Zachariah!”

“You choose now, Dean,” Zachariel thundered. Shaken by the revelation that Gabriel was Sam’s mate, his angelic nature was showing at the edges. “Either you forsake your bond to the Apostate and fulfill the Destiny you were made for, or you let your baby brother fulfill it for you. Either way, you will make a decision, or your last moments of existence will be filled with their dying screams.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Dean gazed at his brothers. Sam, unconscious across the room, vulnerable despite the potency of his mate’s protection. Adam, who should never have been part of this, choking on his own blood, in agony Dean knew only too well.

Castiel had torn himself to atoms trying to save him. And Dean had felt every excruciating moment of it.

“I’ll do it.”

The words were so soft, Dean himself couldn’t be sure he’d spoken them aloud. But he had and he wouldn’t take them back. It was the right thing to do, the right words to say. This was too important.

Whatever answer Zachariel had been expecting, however, the quiet declaration seemed to take him by surprise. His head quirked to one side, one eyebrow lifting. “What was that?”

“Okay, yes!” Dean had to force the words out. “The answer’s yes.” From somewhere on the floor, Adam moaned Dean’s name. Zachariel paused, wary of a deception so close to the end. Dean’s temper finally snapped as tears burned in his eyes, his throat as raw as if he’d downed a bottle of rotgut whiskey. “Do you hear me!? Call Michael down, you bastard.”

Dean was still shielding; it was a natural instinct for him. Zachariel gauged him carefully, unwilling to risk an upset when he finally appeared to have won. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Do I look like I’m lying?” Dean snapped. “You said he has to be here; now get him here.”

The smug smile firmly back in place, Zachariel turned his back and lifted his head. Dean couldn’t watch him, casting his gaze between his brothers. Adam was coiled around himself, still coughing up blood. Sam was starting to come around, the pupils of his hazel eyes contracted to pinpricks from pain. Gabriel wasn’t crashing through the door, which meant that either he couldn’t sense Sam because of their location or Sam had convinced him to sit things out no matter what. Either way, Dean could see in those eyes that Sam had put it together. Could see the betrayed questioning, the inability to comprehend why Dean would be willing to agree.

Zachariel was still chanting, and Dean let his face relax. Let his brother see past the pain and the fear. And then he winked.

Sam’s expression flickered, the edge leaving his face, and Dean pulled his attention back to the archangel that had just finished the Enochian summoning.

“He’s coming.” Zachariel’s voice was filled with quiet relief, victorious satisfaction.

Fear dropped away. Pain seemed remote, beneath his notice. The still-smoldering embers along the mate-bond were all that remained, flares of heat that reminded Dean of unassuming grace, unyielding devotion. Strength and love that refused to be broken no matter what battered against its walls. “Of course, I have a few conditions.”

Zachariel spun, startled at the temerity of such a statement. “What?”

“A few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes.” He could feel Michael’s presence, a shimmering in his blood, reacting to the bond still firmly in place. Michael wanted him… power surged like a maelstrom, hungry, beseeching…

The last time Dean had been in the presence of the archangel that wanted under his skin, Michael had been using his father as a vessel. He’d felt the tie then, too, but it was nothing like this… then, it had been muted, his father’s flesh acting almost like a buffer between them. This was raw… unencumbered… a pull on his soul… a connection deep as Time itself…

It nearly staggered Dean to feel it, to fully sense it for the first time. But it couldn’t gain a hold. Couldn’t sink deep enough to be irresistible. Remnants of Castiel’s shattered grace melded with his own will to refuse, keeping him centered, staving off the draw created by the connection of angel to vessel.

He understood in that moment the fear and awe and almost-yearning in Sam’s voice when Lucifer had risen from beneath their feet nearly a year ago. Knew how badly he’d underestimated his younger brother’s strength to have resisted all this time.

Had no idea how long either of them would have resisted if it weren’t for the angels in their lives.

If the internal struggle was in any way noticeable, Zachariel missed it in his moment of triumph. He merely shrugged as he turned to fully face Dean, spreading his arms in a magnanimous gesture. “Sure… make a list.”

“But most of all?” Something flared deep within, a spark from his mate that caught against his soul and burned, bright as the evening star. “Michael can’t have me until he disintegrates you.”

Disbelief. Incredulity. The arrogance slipped just a bit as Zachariel sensed too late that Dean was far from broken under the weight of Heaven’s mandates. “What did you say?”

“I said that before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass? He has to turn you into a piece of charcoal.” The spark flared brighter, warding off the tidal pull of Michael’s looming presence within Dean’s blood, burning away everything but his will. His free will, and his love for Castiel.

A short bark of laughter as Zachariel held his gaze, unwilling to believe that Dean might actually be serious… or that there was a possibility that Michael might agree. “You really think Michael’s going to go for that?”

“Who’s more important to him now?” Dean shot back. Confidence filled every pore, doubt far behind him. He had his proof that the mating bond would not allow another angel to claim him. Proof that the connection between him and Castiel, for all that its completion had been forced between them, wasn’t just another weapon in the angelic arsenal against Sam’s and his will to resist. “You… or me?”

The veneer finally broke. Zachariel closed the distance between them and hauled Dean forward by his lapels. “Now you listen to me,” he hissed. “You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm’s ass. You think you’re something special because you’re the Vessel? Because a minor seraph was foolish enough to mate with you in violation of command from the Highest of the Host? You’re nothing. Do you know who I am after I deliver you to Michael?”

“Expendable,” Dean spat. Fury roared through him at the insult to his mate, but Dean stayed his hand… stayed just a moment longer… something beyond Michael was coming, reaching for him, edging at his consciousness…

Another derisive chuckle. “Michael’s not going to kill me.”

“Maybe not,” Dean conceded.

The muscles of his hand were closing before Dean realized there was something solid in place for him to grip. The hilt of a sword, light and warm as Castiel’s grace. Instinct bred through his blood for aeons surged at the contact with angelic steel. “But I will.”

Before Zachariel could react, Dean yanked half a step back. The blade scalloped effortlessly in his hand as he swung up, ramming it through Zachariel’s jaw and into his brain.

Go To Part Seven

rating: nc-17, pairing: dean/castiel, fandom: supernatural, fic: crossing the rubicon, 'verse: angelic mates, warning: character death, pairing: sam/gabriel

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