Let Your Grace Guide You: Chapter Four
Let Your Grace Guide You
Masterpost
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
“I don’t mean to interrupt your little party,” Crowley drawled as he stood at the end of the bed and smirked at the sight before him. “But I’ve made my decision earlier than expected.”
Dean shot up, realizing he was still completely naked with a highly obnoxious and dangerous demon in the room. Castiel stood up from the bed, suddenly fully clothed and Dean wondered why the hell Castiel hadn’t bothered to mojo him into some clothes too. Dean wasn’t exactly shy about his body, but Crowley was the last being he wanted to feel even slightly vulnerable around.
Cas and Crowley seemed to have a silent conversation between each other for a moment and Dean wondered if they were having a psychic chit-chat or just trying to stare each other down. Either way, it did nothing to ease Dean’s awkwardness with the whole situation.
“Dean,” Castiel said as he took his eyes off Crowley for a brief moment. “Gather your clothes and meet us in Bobby’s study.”
“I don’t know; if Dean shows up without clothes I may throw a few more perks into the contract.”
When Cas began glaring at the demon again, Crowley put his hands in the air as a mock sign of surrender. “He’s your territory. I’ll keep my hands off, but looking certainly isn’t off limits.”
“We are leaving,” Cas said, and in flutter of wings he and Crowley were gone.
-
Dean grabbed his clothes off the floor and rushed down to Bobby’s study. When he got there, Bobby was just sitting down at his desk with a steaming cup of coffee and a resigned expression on his face. He was clearly ready to face whatever was coming at them. Cas and Crowley were standing on opposite ends of the room, which left Dean standing in the doorway. He debated entering the room, but didn’t want to feel trapped with Crowley. Dean moved his arm slightly and could feel the reassuring weight of Ruby’s demon-killing knife resting in the inner pocket of his jacket. Though Castiel made him feel safe, his instinct around demons was to always have a plan.
“Now that all parties are present, let’s get down to business,” Crowley said as he pulled a suitcase out of thin air.
The demon opened it and pulled out a large roll of paper. When he unrolled it across Bobby’s desk, it spilled over the edge and tumbled onto the floor. Bobby sighed and began reading the document, while Crowley began summarizing it with the same enthusiasm a used car salesmen might give to a lookie Lou.
“You boys may have been unaware of my new position. Crowley, King of Hell, head honcho downstairs now.”
“Guess it’d have been too much to ask for you to share that with us before,” Bobby interjected as he scanned the document.
“I have more power than you think nowadays,” Crowley continued. “I can get you into Hell safely. I can get you within throwing distance of Lucifer’s cage. Now, getting into it is another task all together. You see, the cage has become quite the tourist attraction down there. Everyone wants to take a look at the two archangels that are currently calling Hell their prison. And Lucifer loyalists make it rather difficult for anyone of importance to get near the cage. There’ve been…attacks.
“To make a long story short what I need is a bodyguard. An angel with near archangel power would make a perfect bodyguard,” Crowley said as he looked towards Cas. “You can come along for the ride, lover boy, but your role in this is minimal. Consider your access to your brothers’ souls as a bonus from me to you. A ‘thank you’ for helping me in the past. Just stay out of my way and you can pick up the leftovers from the cage when Cas and I are finished.
“You see, something far more important than two troublesome Winchester souls is down there in that cage: archangels. Two of them, in fact. Two of the most powerful creatures in all of existence.” Crowley looked away from Dean and turned to Cas. “Things aren’t going well for you in Heaven, are they?”
Dean turned to look at the angel. “Cas?”
“Oh? Don’t you know?” Crowley said without taking his eyes off the angel. “Cas here is public enemy number one upstairs.”
“Dean, I didn’t want to worry you,” Cas said when he looked at Dean. His eyes were strangely sad, almost apologetic. “This is beyond your control. There’s nothing you can do and it has nothing to do with Sam, so I didn’t feel the need to tell you.”
“What? What the hell are we talking about here?”
“I...” Castiel paused and exhaled. It was obvious that he was having trouble finding the right words to explain the situation. “Raphael wants to finish what his brothers started. He wants to restart the apocalypse, and to finish it as it was prophesied. He wants Heaven on Earth.”
“And I think I can say for certain that the one thing the three of us have in common is that none of us want that,” Crowley interjected.
“I and many others do not want armageddon. Our opposition has upset those who remain loyal to Raphael. Some have gone so far as to call us apostates for speaking against the last archangel in Heaven. They say we have renounced our faith in God's plan through the vessels of His will. I’ve become...a sort of symbol for those that wish to prevent the apocalypse. I’m not very well liked by Raphael or his followers. And they just happen to be the majority.”
“So wait, you’re basically the Princess Leia of Heaven?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Dude, really? On Earth for years and you haven’t gotten around to Star Wars yet?” Dean shook his head, momentarily caught up with the urge to tie the angel to a chair and make him watch one of the greatest films in existence. He had to focus, though. Every second that ticked by was several hours that his brother was trapped in the cage. “And what the hell can paying Mikey and Luci a visit do to help you?”
“There are certain rituals...”
“Christ,” Dean snapped. “You can’t be serious. Rituals?”
“They can strip an archangel of its power. With my new strength I would be the most powerful angel in existence. I can take control of the garrison and ensure that the apocalypse doesn’t begin again.”
“And with Lucifer bound in the cage,” Crowley cut in. “I’m undeniably the top dog. The great thing about this spell is that it’s permanent. Lucifer would forever be weakened. His cronies would be fighting a losing battle and I’d always be more powerful than him. Bust him out of the cage? Fine. But he’d never be able to defeat me.”
“What’s it do to them? Make them human?”
“No,” Castiel said. “They’d still be angels. They’d just be weaker than a Cherubim.”
“And what are you?”
“Now? I don’t know. Something...new. But before that I was also a Cherubim. The majority of angels are classified as such. How I’ve managed to survive before I was given my current level of power is somewhat of a miracle.”
“Miracle?” Dean chuckled. “Makes you sound more like a Winchester. We’re too stubborn to die. But still, it doesn’t explain your interest in Mikey and Luci. Why do you need to get to them if you can just bind them or whatever?”
“The ritual needs an archangel feather,” Castiel said. “It would be easier to pluck one from Michael or Lucifer, than Raphael, at this point in time.”
Dean folded his arms and looked at Bobby who was still reading the contract. “Bobby?”
“I’m no expert on legalese, but this contract seems to tip in our favor. I get my soul back. You get a shot at your brothers. Cas and Crowley get an archangel feather. All ya gotta do is get Crowley into the cage.”
“So you think we should take this?”
“What else we got, kid? It’s this or start back at square one.”
Dean turned to Crowley who was smirking at them both. Dean knew that something had to be hidden in that contract. Crowley was the King of the Crossroads - no, King of Hell - he always had an ace up his sleeve. As Bobby said, he was a pro. But he had to do something.
“Fine,” Dean said eventually. “Where do we sign.”
“No signature required,” Crowley said as he held up a small butterfly knife. “Just bleed on the parchment and we’re golden.”
-
When they landed in Hell, Dean immediately tensed. He remembered the rock landscape, the caves filled with tortured souls, the fires of Hell casting a constant red glow on everything. He remembered being strung up in a canyon when he first arrived, chains holding him in place as he roasted over the fires. That, however, was before they moved him to one of the torture rooms where Alistair did his work. After that, exposure to the fires would have been preferable.
Even now he could hear souls screaming in agony as demons found new and creative ways to cause them pain. Nothing had changed. The King may be different, but Hell was still a place of never-ending torture and trauma.
Cas took Dean’s hand immediately when he sensed his fear. The contact calmed Dean, but when the hunter turned around he gasped and his heart began to pound again. This time it wasn’t out of fear. It was awe. Cas' wings were fully visible to Dean's human eyesight: large, white, and beautiful. They were practically glowing with the power of Cas’ Grace thrumming away just below the skin.
Dean was so stunned, he had stopped thinking about about the horrifying world around him. Cas’ wings were arched high in the air and an overwhelming sense of safety coursed through the hunter. He’d seen their shadows before, but he didn’t have the ability to see their physical form...until now. Dean never considered the notion that he’d have the chance to see Cas’ wings with his own eyes. And yet there they were...
“I plan on remodeling,” Crowley quipped, snapping Dean out of his temporary distraction. “The original creators lacked creativity. Fire and brimstone? Really? I can think of a dozen things more terrifying. How about endless bureaucracy? Lines that never end, rooms filled with files stretching for miles...actual red tape.” Crowley laughed smugly at his own joke.
Dean was surprised to find that he could breathe normally in Hell. The Grace inside of him seemed to subconsciously protect him from the harsh terrain. He could definitely go for a tall glass of lemonade, but otherwise he felt pretty damn comfortable. Dean remembered a heat blistering his skin that he no longer felt, and the expected everyday pain and agony that seeped into your bones after forty years of simply existing in that environment was not present. His lungs weren’t on fire with every inhale and exhale. His eyes weren’t watering from the smoky brimstone and seared flesh.
Crowley whistled and a few seconds later a hellhound came walking down the hallway. Dean’s grip on Cas’ hand tightened when the large black beast began to approach them. Cas squeezed Dean’s hand back reassuringly. The hunter hadn’t seen a Hellhound since Lillith’s beast dragged his soul to Hell, but he remembered every agonizing detail of the encounter. Even after years of being carved like a turkey by Alistair, Dean could recall what it felt like to have their claws digging through his gut.
“Relax. This one is mine. Growley, meet Castiel and Dean Winchester. Dean, Cas, meet Growley.” The large black beast sat obediently beside his demon master. It was certainly reminiscent of the hellhounds that pulled Dean apart the first time, but larger and, strangely, almost cuter in the way it wagged its tail when Crowley reached out and scratched him behind his ears. Dean didn’t let the thought of calling the beast ‘cute’ last for more than a second, though. These creatures were certainly not cute.
“He won’t hurt you unless I tell him to. Now come along,” Crowley said as he turned down one of the corridors. “Let’s not announce to the opposition that we’re coming.”
-
When they exited the large maze of brimstone corridors, they found themselves in a large canyon, much like the one that Dean first encountered upon his arrival to Hell. A large black box was suspended from the opposite cliff face by a gigantic red vine that twisted and pulsated all around the obsidian surface. The vine seemed to be alive and Dean wondered how he went forty years in Hell, ten of which he had been given more freedom to roam through Hell’s dark and twisted caverns, and never encountered anything like this before.
Between them and the cage were several hundred demons milling about. Several of them stopped and stared at them, but most were completely enthralled by the cage. The majority of the demons lacked bodies and appeared as black and rotting figured that resembled a charred human form. These were the types of demons Dean saw every day for 40 years. This was what Alistair had looked like before he walked the earth.
Near the base of the box Dean spotted a small, but heavily fortified door. It seemed to be the only way in or out of the box. Crowley hadn’t mentioned needing help with the door so Dean didn’t spend more than a passing second thinking about how they were going to get past it. Instead he needed to focus on getting the demon through the crowd of onlookers that had gathered. That was what the contract discussed. If they could get Crowley to that door they’d have a shot at saving Sam... and Adam.
Growley led the way with Crowley just a step behind him. Dean and Cas brought up the rear of their little party as they began passing through the crowd. One of Cas’ wings protectively hovered around Dean to shield him from any immediate dangers. Dean had Ruby’s knife in one hand and an open flask of holy water in the other, but considering the environment he was in, he felt like those were pretty ineffective as any sort of real defense. He had two other flasks in his pockets and a shotgun loaded with rock salt slung across his back, but it was Castiel who had the best chance of fighting back at any sort of attack. All he had to do was lay his hand on a demon and that was that.
The crowd was getting thicker the closer they got to the box. Dean noticed that almost every single demon was staring at them by that point. Some stepped out of the way as they approached while others had to be nudged aside by Growley. Castiel’s wing pulled Dean even closer until they were shoulder to shoulder as they pushed through the crowd towards the cage. The Grace in Dean thrummed with the contact.
Then the crowd began to push back.
Crowley was suddenly pressed against Castiel and Dean and his hellhound began to snarl and bark at the crowd. The panic had intensified quickly. It was suddenly chaos as demons were shouting and clawing and groping at them.
“That’s it,” Crowley said. “This attempt is over. This is Luci’s crowd. Catch you later.”
Crowley and Growley disappeared, but the space they’d been occupying was immediately filled with angry demons. He heard Castiel cry out and Dean immediately flung the flask of water at the creature gnawing on Cas’ right wing. Castiel was already unleashing his Grace from his body and soon they were surrounded by the multi colored light that Dean was recognized as Castiel’s true form. The light from the wound drove the closest demons back a step, but a few seconds later they were advancing on them again.
He felt Castiel grab onto his arm, hand slotting directly over the print left the last time Cas had pulled him from perdition, and abruptly everything became a blur. Dean felt the snapping sensation that accompanied crossing between two dimensions and suddenly there was nothing but cool air rushing past them at an alarming speed. They were falling, but Castiel was holding Dean tightly to his chest.
They started to twist mid air as the ground came rushing towards them and Castiel spread his wings out as wide as they would go. Their descent immediately slowed, but Dean could now see extent of the damage the demon had caused. He could tell that Castiel was straining to keep them steady. He could feel it deep inside his chest just as easily as he could see it painted across Cas’ features. The wound was deep and incredibly painful, but Cas was too determined to let the injury hold him back.
They came to a stop slowly just inches above the ground. Castiel was very careful to set Dean feet first on the dirt before releasing him, but the second Cas let go it was Dean who was in charge of keeping them on their feet. Castiel’s injury was leaking blood and Grace and he was in no condition to do anything more than hobble up to the house. Though even that appeared to be almost too difficult of a task for Castiel.
“Bobby can’t see it,” Castiel said as he looked at his injured wing. “My Grace. It will blind him.”
“Bobby!” Dean shouted as he opened the door. “Lock your door unless you want your eyes melted out of your head!” He heard Bobby’s study door slam shut and he rushed Castiel to the couch. He heard his phone buzz in his pocket, but he didn’t reach for it until Castiel was comfortably seated across the cushions. Priority number one was getting Castiel somewhere that would give him a chance to recover from his wounds.
What’s going on? Bobby texted.
Cas injured. Sam still in pit. Grace leaking everywhere, Dean replied.
Get me when he’s patched up.
Dean pulled the med kit from under the couch and immediately went to work on cleaning out the wound. The flesh was torn and several blood soaked feather hung precariously from his wing. He looked like a complete mess.
“Why don’t your wings heal like the rest of you?”
“It’s the most physical form my Grace can take. Grace doesn’t heal as easily as my vessel does. They were injured when we met at the barn, but you couldn’t perceive that at the time.”
“They weren’t leaking Grace, though. I think I would have saw that. Before my eyes melted, anyway.”
“No. They were singed from the fires. The skin wasn’t pierced.”
Dean imagined that Sam would be full of questions at that point, but Dean could only muster up an apathetic humming noise. He cleaned out the wound and began to stitch it up. Dean was impressed that Castiel only let out the slightest of noises when the needle first pierced his wing. He knew how raw it felt to have his soul tampered with and now that he could feel what it was like to have Grace in him he understood just how much more intense it must have been. It must have been agonizing.
“What now?” Dean asked as he finished up his work on Castiel’s injury.
“We try something else.”
“What else? I thought that was pretty much our last ditch plan there. I’ve got no other ideas here, Cas. We just gotta go in again.”
“Yes, I agree. But we need to be better prepared.”
“How?”
“I think I may have an idea...” Castiel fell silent.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Dean,” Cas sighed. He hesitated momentarily before continuing. “This will require a large commitment on your part. But it will drastically increase our strength and give us a better shot at saving your brother.”
“I’m listening.”
“Dean, this...” Castiel paused again, carefully considering his next words. “If I give you more of my Grace you may gain enough abilities to fight past hordes of demons.”
“Would I even be human at that point?”
“Probably not.”
“Then what would I be exactly?”
“I’m not sure.” There was an awkward moment of silence. “I know how you feel about your humanity. I know you want to keep it at all costs--”
“Not at all costs, Cas. This is Sam, so...yes. Mojo me. Let’s get this done with.”
“I feel like I need to be more straightforward with you before we proceed.”
“Cas, I already agreed.”
“Dean, this is a cosmic event. The only being who creates angels is God. But I’m giving you a bit of myself. You would in essence be an extension of my own Grace merged with your soul. This is has never been done. I have no idea what the result will be. I can only speculate.”
“But it’ll help us get Sam.”
“Most likely.”
“Then do it.”
“I must warn you, it’ll take some time for the Grace to settle inside of you and for my own to replenish enough to strike again.”
“How long?”
“My own Grace will take a few hours to strengthen. What I’m giving you could take longer.”
“Dammit!”
“Again, this is cosmic. We’ll both need to recover.”
“Then let’s get started. No point dancing around it.” Dean sat on the coffee table right across from Cas and looked at him expectantly. Cas leaned forward, wincing slightly as his right wing stretched against the stitches.
“Whoa, wait,” Dean said suddenly. “Maybe you should wait until your Grace isn’t leaking out of you before you try to give me some of it.”
“Dean, if I wasn’t capable of doing this, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you pushing yourself beyond your limits before. Not now, Cas. I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t. My Grace will need replenishing either way. It’s either now or later. It doesn’t particularly matter when it happens.”
Dean gulped, finally settling into the idea that he was about to take a huge plunge into the unknown. “O-okay. Do it.”
“Do not be afraid, Dean. I would never harm you.” Cas reached out and cupped Dean’s face with his hands, much like had cupped Jimmy Novak’s face when he was lying on the floor dying in that warehouse. Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s. He breathed slowly into Dean’s mouth, and the bright light of his Grace started to transfer from one body to the other. It filled his lungs with warmth and love and pure Castiel. The Grace that was already inside him was buzzing as the new amount began to flood his system.
Then Dean’s whole world went white again as every cell in his body altered itself to accommodate for Castiel’s Grace.
Chapter Five >
Masterpost
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
“I don’t mean to interrupt your little party,” Crowley drawled as he stood at the end of the bed and smirked at the sight before him. “But I’ve made my decision earlier than expected.”
Dean shot up, realizing he was still completely naked with a highly obnoxious and dangerous demon in the room. Castiel stood up from the bed, suddenly fully clothed and Dean wondered why the hell Castiel hadn’t bothered to mojo him into some clothes too. Dean wasn’t exactly shy about his body, but Crowley was the last being he wanted to feel even slightly vulnerable around.
Cas and Crowley seemed to have a silent conversation between each other for a moment and Dean wondered if they were having a psychic chit-chat or just trying to stare each other down. Either way, it did nothing to ease Dean’s awkwardness with the whole situation.
“Dean,” Castiel said as he took his eyes off Crowley for a brief moment. “Gather your clothes and meet us in Bobby’s study.”
“I don’t know; if Dean shows up without clothes I may throw a few more perks into the contract.”
When Cas began glaring at the demon again, Crowley put his hands in the air as a mock sign of surrender. “He’s your territory. I’ll keep my hands off, but looking certainly isn’t off limits.”
“We are leaving,” Cas said, and in flutter of wings he and Crowley were gone.
-
Dean grabbed his clothes off the floor and rushed down to Bobby’s study. When he got there, Bobby was just sitting down at his desk with a steaming cup of coffee and a resigned expression on his face. He was clearly ready to face whatever was coming at them. Cas and Crowley were standing on opposite ends of the room, which left Dean standing in the doorway. He debated entering the room, but didn’t want to feel trapped with Crowley. Dean moved his arm slightly and could feel the reassuring weight of Ruby’s demon-killing knife resting in the inner pocket of his jacket. Though Castiel made him feel safe, his instinct around demons was to always have a plan.
“Now that all parties are present, let’s get down to business,” Crowley said as he pulled a suitcase out of thin air.
The demon opened it and pulled out a large roll of paper. When he unrolled it across Bobby’s desk, it spilled over the edge and tumbled onto the floor. Bobby sighed and began reading the document, while Crowley began summarizing it with the same enthusiasm a used car salesmen might give to a lookie Lou.
“You boys may have been unaware of my new position. Crowley, King of Hell, head honcho downstairs now.”
“Guess it’d have been too much to ask for you to share that with us before,” Bobby interjected as he scanned the document.
“I have more power than you think nowadays,” Crowley continued. “I can get you into Hell safely. I can get you within throwing distance of Lucifer’s cage. Now, getting into it is another task all together. You see, the cage has become quite the tourist attraction down there. Everyone wants to take a look at the two archangels that are currently calling Hell their prison. And Lucifer loyalists make it rather difficult for anyone of importance to get near the cage. There’ve been…attacks.
“To make a long story short what I need is a bodyguard. An angel with near archangel power would make a perfect bodyguard,” Crowley said as he looked towards Cas. “You can come along for the ride, lover boy, but your role in this is minimal. Consider your access to your brothers’ souls as a bonus from me to you. A ‘thank you’ for helping me in the past. Just stay out of my way and you can pick up the leftovers from the cage when Cas and I are finished.
“You see, something far more important than two troublesome Winchester souls is down there in that cage: archangels. Two of them, in fact. Two of the most powerful creatures in all of existence.” Crowley looked away from Dean and turned to Cas. “Things aren’t going well for you in Heaven, are they?”
Dean turned to look at the angel. “Cas?”
“Oh? Don’t you know?” Crowley said without taking his eyes off the angel. “Cas here is public enemy number one upstairs.”
“Dean, I didn’t want to worry you,” Cas said when he looked at Dean. His eyes were strangely sad, almost apologetic. “This is beyond your control. There’s nothing you can do and it has nothing to do with Sam, so I didn’t feel the need to tell you.”
“What? What the hell are we talking about here?”
“I...” Castiel paused and exhaled. It was obvious that he was having trouble finding the right words to explain the situation. “Raphael wants to finish what his brothers started. He wants to restart the apocalypse, and to finish it as it was prophesied. He wants Heaven on Earth.”
“And I think I can say for certain that the one thing the three of us have in common is that none of us want that,” Crowley interjected.
“I and many others do not want armageddon. Our opposition has upset those who remain loyal to Raphael. Some have gone so far as to call us apostates for speaking against the last archangel in Heaven. They say we have renounced our faith in God's plan through the vessels of His will. I’ve become...a sort of symbol for those that wish to prevent the apocalypse. I’m not very well liked by Raphael or his followers. And they just happen to be the majority.”
“So wait, you’re basically the Princess Leia of Heaven?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Dude, really? On Earth for years and you haven’t gotten around to Star Wars yet?” Dean shook his head, momentarily caught up with the urge to tie the angel to a chair and make him watch one of the greatest films in existence. He had to focus, though. Every second that ticked by was several hours that his brother was trapped in the cage. “And what the hell can paying Mikey and Luci a visit do to help you?”
“There are certain rituals...”
“Christ,” Dean snapped. “You can’t be serious. Rituals?”
“They can strip an archangel of its power. With my new strength I would be the most powerful angel in existence. I can take control of the garrison and ensure that the apocalypse doesn’t begin again.”
“And with Lucifer bound in the cage,” Crowley cut in. “I’m undeniably the top dog. The great thing about this spell is that it’s permanent. Lucifer would forever be weakened. His cronies would be fighting a losing battle and I’d always be more powerful than him. Bust him out of the cage? Fine. But he’d never be able to defeat me.”
“What’s it do to them? Make them human?”
“No,” Castiel said. “They’d still be angels. They’d just be weaker than a Cherubim.”
“And what are you?”
“Now? I don’t know. Something...new. But before that I was also a Cherubim. The majority of angels are classified as such. How I’ve managed to survive before I was given my current level of power is somewhat of a miracle.”
“Miracle?” Dean chuckled. “Makes you sound more like a Winchester. We’re too stubborn to die. But still, it doesn’t explain your interest in Mikey and Luci. Why do you need to get to them if you can just bind them or whatever?”
“The ritual needs an archangel feather,” Castiel said. “It would be easier to pluck one from Michael or Lucifer, than Raphael, at this point in time.”
Dean folded his arms and looked at Bobby who was still reading the contract. “Bobby?”
“I’m no expert on legalese, but this contract seems to tip in our favor. I get my soul back. You get a shot at your brothers. Cas and Crowley get an archangel feather. All ya gotta do is get Crowley into the cage.”
“So you think we should take this?”
“What else we got, kid? It’s this or start back at square one.”
Dean turned to Crowley who was smirking at them both. Dean knew that something had to be hidden in that contract. Crowley was the King of the Crossroads - no, King of Hell - he always had an ace up his sleeve. As Bobby said, he was a pro. But he had to do something.
“Fine,” Dean said eventually. “Where do we sign.”
“No signature required,” Crowley said as he held up a small butterfly knife. “Just bleed on the parchment and we’re golden.”
-
When they landed in Hell, Dean immediately tensed. He remembered the rock landscape, the caves filled with tortured souls, the fires of Hell casting a constant red glow on everything. He remembered being strung up in a canyon when he first arrived, chains holding him in place as he roasted over the fires. That, however, was before they moved him to one of the torture rooms where Alistair did his work. After that, exposure to the fires would have been preferable.
Even now he could hear souls screaming in agony as demons found new and creative ways to cause them pain. Nothing had changed. The King may be different, but Hell was still a place of never-ending torture and trauma.
Cas took Dean’s hand immediately when he sensed his fear. The contact calmed Dean, but when the hunter turned around he gasped and his heart began to pound again. This time it wasn’t out of fear. It was awe. Cas' wings were fully visible to Dean's human eyesight: large, white, and beautiful. They were practically glowing with the power of Cas’ Grace thrumming away just below the skin.
Dean was so stunned, he had stopped thinking about about the horrifying world around him. Cas’ wings were arched high in the air and an overwhelming sense of safety coursed through the hunter. He’d seen their shadows before, but he didn’t have the ability to see their physical form...until now. Dean never considered the notion that he’d have the chance to see Cas’ wings with his own eyes. And yet there they were...
“I plan on remodeling,” Crowley quipped, snapping Dean out of his temporary distraction. “The original creators lacked creativity. Fire and brimstone? Really? I can think of a dozen things more terrifying. How about endless bureaucracy? Lines that never end, rooms filled with files stretching for miles...actual red tape.” Crowley laughed smugly at his own joke.
Dean was surprised to find that he could breathe normally in Hell. The Grace inside of him seemed to subconsciously protect him from the harsh terrain. He could definitely go for a tall glass of lemonade, but otherwise he felt pretty damn comfortable. Dean remembered a heat blistering his skin that he no longer felt, and the expected everyday pain and agony that seeped into your bones after forty years of simply existing in that environment was not present. His lungs weren’t on fire with every inhale and exhale. His eyes weren’t watering from the smoky brimstone and seared flesh.
Crowley whistled and a few seconds later a hellhound came walking down the hallway. Dean’s grip on Cas’ hand tightened when the large black beast began to approach them. Cas squeezed Dean’s hand back reassuringly. The hunter hadn’t seen a Hellhound since Lillith’s beast dragged his soul to Hell, but he remembered every agonizing detail of the encounter. Even after years of being carved like a turkey by Alistair, Dean could recall what it felt like to have their claws digging through his gut.
“Relax. This one is mine. Growley, meet Castiel and Dean Winchester. Dean, Cas, meet Growley.” The large black beast sat obediently beside his demon master. It was certainly reminiscent of the hellhounds that pulled Dean apart the first time, but larger and, strangely, almost cuter in the way it wagged its tail when Crowley reached out and scratched him behind his ears. Dean didn’t let the thought of calling the beast ‘cute’ last for more than a second, though. These creatures were certainly not cute.
“He won’t hurt you unless I tell him to. Now come along,” Crowley said as he turned down one of the corridors. “Let’s not announce to the opposition that we’re coming.”
-
When they exited the large maze of brimstone corridors, they found themselves in a large canyon, much like the one that Dean first encountered upon his arrival to Hell. A large black box was suspended from the opposite cliff face by a gigantic red vine that twisted and pulsated all around the obsidian surface. The vine seemed to be alive and Dean wondered how he went forty years in Hell, ten of which he had been given more freedom to roam through Hell’s dark and twisted caverns, and never encountered anything like this before.
Between them and the cage were several hundred demons milling about. Several of them stopped and stared at them, but most were completely enthralled by the cage. The majority of the demons lacked bodies and appeared as black and rotting figured that resembled a charred human form. These were the types of demons Dean saw every day for 40 years. This was what Alistair had looked like before he walked the earth.
Near the base of the box Dean spotted a small, but heavily fortified door. It seemed to be the only way in or out of the box. Crowley hadn’t mentioned needing help with the door so Dean didn’t spend more than a passing second thinking about how they were going to get past it. Instead he needed to focus on getting the demon through the crowd of onlookers that had gathered. That was what the contract discussed. If they could get Crowley to that door they’d have a shot at saving Sam... and Adam.
Growley led the way with Crowley just a step behind him. Dean and Cas brought up the rear of their little party as they began passing through the crowd. One of Cas’ wings protectively hovered around Dean to shield him from any immediate dangers. Dean had Ruby’s knife in one hand and an open flask of holy water in the other, but considering the environment he was in, he felt like those were pretty ineffective as any sort of real defense. He had two other flasks in his pockets and a shotgun loaded with rock salt slung across his back, but it was Castiel who had the best chance of fighting back at any sort of attack. All he had to do was lay his hand on a demon and that was that.
The crowd was getting thicker the closer they got to the box. Dean noticed that almost every single demon was staring at them by that point. Some stepped out of the way as they approached while others had to be nudged aside by Growley. Castiel’s wing pulled Dean even closer until they were shoulder to shoulder as they pushed through the crowd towards the cage. The Grace in Dean thrummed with the contact.
Then the crowd began to push back.
Crowley was suddenly pressed against Castiel and Dean and his hellhound began to snarl and bark at the crowd. The panic had intensified quickly. It was suddenly chaos as demons were shouting and clawing and groping at them.
“That’s it,” Crowley said. “This attempt is over. This is Luci’s crowd. Catch you later.”
Crowley and Growley disappeared, but the space they’d been occupying was immediately filled with angry demons. He heard Castiel cry out and Dean immediately flung the flask of water at the creature gnawing on Cas’ right wing. Castiel was already unleashing his Grace from his body and soon they were surrounded by the multi colored light that Dean was recognized as Castiel’s true form. The light from the wound drove the closest demons back a step, but a few seconds later they were advancing on them again.
He felt Castiel grab onto his arm, hand slotting directly over the print left the last time Cas had pulled him from perdition, and abruptly everything became a blur. Dean felt the snapping sensation that accompanied crossing between two dimensions and suddenly there was nothing but cool air rushing past them at an alarming speed. They were falling, but Castiel was holding Dean tightly to his chest.
They started to twist mid air as the ground came rushing towards them and Castiel spread his wings out as wide as they would go. Their descent immediately slowed, but Dean could now see extent of the damage the demon had caused. He could tell that Castiel was straining to keep them steady. He could feel it deep inside his chest just as easily as he could see it painted across Cas’ features. The wound was deep and incredibly painful, but Cas was too determined to let the injury hold him back.
They came to a stop slowly just inches above the ground. Castiel was very careful to set Dean feet first on the dirt before releasing him, but the second Cas let go it was Dean who was in charge of keeping them on their feet. Castiel’s injury was leaking blood and Grace and he was in no condition to do anything more than hobble up to the house. Though even that appeared to be almost too difficult of a task for Castiel.
“Bobby can’t see it,” Castiel said as he looked at his injured wing. “My Grace. It will blind him.”
“Bobby!” Dean shouted as he opened the door. “Lock your door unless you want your eyes melted out of your head!” He heard Bobby’s study door slam shut and he rushed Castiel to the couch. He heard his phone buzz in his pocket, but he didn’t reach for it until Castiel was comfortably seated across the cushions. Priority number one was getting Castiel somewhere that would give him a chance to recover from his wounds.
What’s going on? Bobby texted.
Cas injured. Sam still in pit. Grace leaking everywhere, Dean replied.
Get me when he’s patched up.
Dean pulled the med kit from under the couch and immediately went to work on cleaning out the wound. The flesh was torn and several blood soaked feather hung precariously from his wing. He looked like a complete mess.
“Why don’t your wings heal like the rest of you?”
“It’s the most physical form my Grace can take. Grace doesn’t heal as easily as my vessel does. They were injured when we met at the barn, but you couldn’t perceive that at the time.”
“They weren’t leaking Grace, though. I think I would have saw that. Before my eyes melted, anyway.”
“No. They were singed from the fires. The skin wasn’t pierced.”
Dean imagined that Sam would be full of questions at that point, but Dean could only muster up an apathetic humming noise. He cleaned out the wound and began to stitch it up. Dean was impressed that Castiel only let out the slightest of noises when the needle first pierced his wing. He knew how raw it felt to have his soul tampered with and now that he could feel what it was like to have Grace in him he understood just how much more intense it must have been. It must have been agonizing.
“What now?” Dean asked as he finished up his work on Castiel’s injury.
“We try something else.”
“What else? I thought that was pretty much our last ditch plan there. I’ve got no other ideas here, Cas. We just gotta go in again.”
“Yes, I agree. But we need to be better prepared.”
“How?”
“I think I may have an idea...” Castiel fell silent.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Dean,” Cas sighed. He hesitated momentarily before continuing. “This will require a large commitment on your part. But it will drastically increase our strength and give us a better shot at saving your brother.”
“I’m listening.”
“Dean, this...” Castiel paused again, carefully considering his next words. “If I give you more of my Grace you may gain enough abilities to fight past hordes of demons.”
“Would I even be human at that point?”
“Probably not.”
“Then what would I be exactly?”
“I’m not sure.” There was an awkward moment of silence. “I know how you feel about your humanity. I know you want to keep it at all costs--”
“Not at all costs, Cas. This is Sam, so...yes. Mojo me. Let’s get this done with.”
“I feel like I need to be more straightforward with you before we proceed.”
“Cas, I already agreed.”
“Dean, this is a cosmic event. The only being who creates angels is God. But I’m giving you a bit of myself. You would in essence be an extension of my own Grace merged with your soul. This is has never been done. I have no idea what the result will be. I can only speculate.”
“But it’ll help us get Sam.”
“Most likely.”
“Then do it.”
“I must warn you, it’ll take some time for the Grace to settle inside of you and for my own to replenish enough to strike again.”
“How long?”
“My own Grace will take a few hours to strengthen. What I’m giving you could take longer.”
“Dammit!”
“Again, this is cosmic. We’ll both need to recover.”
“Then let’s get started. No point dancing around it.” Dean sat on the coffee table right across from Cas and looked at him expectantly. Cas leaned forward, wincing slightly as his right wing stretched against the stitches.
“Whoa, wait,” Dean said suddenly. “Maybe you should wait until your Grace isn’t leaking out of you before you try to give me some of it.”
“Dean, if I wasn’t capable of doing this, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you pushing yourself beyond your limits before. Not now, Cas. I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t. My Grace will need replenishing either way. It’s either now or later. It doesn’t particularly matter when it happens.”
Dean gulped, finally settling into the idea that he was about to take a huge plunge into the unknown. “O-okay. Do it.”
“Do not be afraid, Dean. I would never harm you.” Cas reached out and cupped Dean’s face with his hands, much like had cupped Jimmy Novak’s face when he was lying on the floor dying in that warehouse. Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s. He breathed slowly into Dean’s mouth, and the bright light of his Grace started to transfer from one body to the other. It filled his lungs with warmth and love and pure Castiel. The Grace that was already inside him was buzzing as the new amount began to flood his system.
Then Dean’s whole world went white again as every cell in his body altered itself to accommodate for Castiel’s Grace.
Chapter Five >