Come Out Of Your Cave Walking On Your Hands | SPN | Dean/Cas | PG-13 | Part 1
Masterpost
It began with the beginning of all things, with the creation of life; that spark ignited in the universe, the creation of the Heavens, the creation of Earth and the creation of Man. It began with the Fall, with the original sin. It began with a growing evil, with hidden meanings and hidden purposes. It began with the first gospels, set down within a growing belief. It began in stories, in little miracles, in larger ones, in pomp and circumstance and glory and righteousness. It began in heavenly influences, in heavenly interventions, in things left behind, things forgotten.
257AD, Ephesus, modern day Turkey.
It is time. They approach, Aariel.
The play of light as the sun rose over the hills really was a true reflection of the glory of his Father’s creation. Aariel found himself content to sit and watch the beauty of the changing shadows and colors, even as he knew what was approaching the men who sat in the cave behind him.
Understood, my brothers. Aariel stood, an unknown tightness in the limbs he wore. He stretched tentatively, as if by extending his arms he could burst out of the restricting shell that confined him. Winding up the path from the field below them, were warriors, Decius and his men, come to demand the loyalty that Aariel, and the men he now led, could not allow them to take.
Aariel retreated to the cave, turning slowly when he felt the approach of the solider. “We do not recant,” said Aariel, speaking for them all, as his companions knelt around him. He saw the cold glint in Decius’ eyes, knew then that it was all going to plan, and he dropped gently to his knees to the hard floor of the cave. They had started blocking out the light already, darkness rolling over the seven of them piece by piece. Aariel could feel the tremble in the bodies of the men around him. “Calm,” he urged, “have faith.”
As the last sliver of day began to slip from view, Aariel clasped his hand around the amulet that dangled from his neck. “Now,” he intoned, willing power, Grace, into the small stone; the thrum and intensity of the magic building within him. “Sleep.”
Task successfully fulfilled, Aariel carefully sat his vessel down and prepared for the loosening of the bonds that would free him from the human boundaries and allow him to return to the celestial realm, mission completed.
There was nothing. There was no break, no freedom, no light. Nothing. Aariel frowned within his skin and moved the vessel’s ’s fingers tenatively. He frowned harder and concentrated his attentions again, curling his hand into tight fists.
Still nothing. A small unfamiliar tightness settled in Aariel’s stomach and he opened his eyes to look around him. In training he had encountered no problems with the motions of leaving a vessel, and he ran through the steps once more in his mind, slowly going through them one by one. Nothing. He remained within..
Aariel was not built for panic, but he certainly felt something like it at that point. Castiel, he tried, projecting heavenwards. Castiel, something is not right. Castiel?.
Castiel.
Castiel, why don’t you answer?
...why is there no answer?
My brothers. Brothers?
Brothers?
Utter silence. There was nothing. Everywhere there was nothingness. He could hear no one and no one could hear him. The tightness in Aariel’s stomach grew, and he stumbled to his feet, disorientated. He hadn’t noticed at first, but the hum, the familiar hum of the Host within his being, was gone.
He was alone.
The ever increasing panic settled coldly in his borrowed blood, but he forced himself to move towards the entrance to the cave, soundly blocked in by the soliders. He ran his fingers around the smooth stones, possibilities running through his mind. He could move the stone aside, leave the cave, find another way to leave his vessel and return home. He could transport himself outside the cave without the necessity of moving the stones. He could leave, and consequently there was no need for worry. He would leave the cave, and he would be able to return home. Castiel would be able to explain; he would understand.
Nothing. There was nothing. The stones remained, Aariel remained. He was trapped, truely trapped, without any contact with the host, alone, for the first time in his existence.
Aariel sank to his knees.
“You can hand over the amulet now.”
The voice came from a dark corner of the cave, soft, but with an eerie quality that rasped against Aariel’s ears. He shuddered, turning round to find the source of the voice. A pair of eyes blinked calmly back at him, flashed yellow, blinked back. Aariel gasped and shuddered again, the acrid smell of sulphur filling his nostrils.
“Begone, demon,” he breathed. “This is a place of holiness. It is no place for your kind.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” drawled the demon, stepping forward. “And I don’t think you’re really in the position to be telling me what to do.”
“I will smite you where you stand,” Aariel said, trying to control the tremble that threatened to enter his voice.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re cut off, little angel, far away from home. You can’t call them, they can’t call you. You can try, if you’d like,” he offered, and grinned at Aariel.
Aariel snarled and leaped up, slamming his hand against the demon’s forehead, bracing himself for the burning purifying light.
Nothing. All was nothing.
“Well, now we’ve got that out of the way,” continued the demon, sidestepping from Aariel’s still outstretched arm, “I’ll just take that amulet you’ve got and be on my way.”
“I will not give you the amulet.” He didn’t try to hide the shake in his voice this time. “I would die first.”
“Angels,” sighed the demon, dusting his hands together. “If I kill you, angel, I’ll just take the amulet from your dead meatsuit. I don’t need to kill you; I’ve nothing against you personally, other than the whole, well, you’re an angel.”
“I would die first,” Aariel repeated.
“We don’t all get what we want, little angel. Well, I do, one way or the other, but...”
The knot of panic wasn’t going anywhere, settled in deep as the demon reached forward, grabbing the amulet from where it dangled around Aariel’s neck. “Sigils, little angel. You’re powerless, cut off, and you can’t go anywhere. And now,” he finished, snapping the delicate cord with a quick tug, “the amulet is mine.”
Trapped, alone, scared, Aariel could only blink helplessly as the demon snatched the pendant from him and vanished out of the cave.
“Have fun, little angel.” His voice echoed around the chamber, and Aariel sank back to the ground. He refused to think about what this loss meant to the Host.
His brothers would come for him. He would be free. He would not remain trapped in the darkness without even the glory of light to ease his waiting.
And so it was, that in the village of Ephesus, a miracle of the Lord did occur. Faith had fallen within this land, and thus it was decreed that an Angel of Our Father would descend to the earthly realm to share the heavenly wisdom and faith with a group of devout and true men. And so it was that the Angel did speak to them, and ask of them to trust in the Lord and to give to the Lord a gift. The Angel then did place upon them the sleep of two hundred years, and yet they did not age and they did not die.
The two hundred years thus passed, they did awake, as was forewritten, and made their way to their village of old, where they found their coins and clothes were regarded with confusion. Verily, they were able to prove their heritage, and show to all who looked upon them the true glory and power of the Lord.
(Verses from the lost Book of Jehu)
November 2008, New Hampshire, USA.
“There’s nothing here,” Dean moaned, flopping backwards onto one of the motel beds. “There is literally nothing in this town. Just snow,and hills with snow on. And more snow. Why’ve you dragged me here?”
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, setting up his laptop on the small table in the corner of the room. “Nobody dragged you anywhere, Dean. We agreed that there were definite signs of a haunting of some sort here. There’s a case, Dean, so you can just get used to the snow.”
Dean huffed, picking at the (oh god, were those cherubs?) peeling wallpaper on the walls. “I didn’t realise the case was all the way in Bumfuck, New Hampshire when you told me how vital it was.”
“You didn’t notice you were driving north?”
“I didn’t realise I was driving to the land of snow and mountains. She doesn’t like the snow, Sammy.”
“You knew perfectly well where we were going.”Sam sighed resignedly and turned his attention back down to the pile of newspaper clippings in his hands.
“We’re almost in Canada, Sam. Canada,” exclaimed Dean petulantly, thumping down onto the scrawny comforter. “Canada,” he repeated, drawn out and slow, as if this could change anything about the fact.
Sam rolled his eyes, and continued staring at the papers, flicking back and forth between the stories.
Dean huffed again, and pulled himself back up to seated. “Least we’re not likely to be bothered by any demons up here,” he muttered, glancing over at Sam as he did so. Sam resolutely ignored him. “Bet they don’t like snow. Cold an’ all that.”
“Hmm,” Sam answered non-committally
“...Right.”
“So, there’s this old house on the way out of town, into the forest. Some kids went there on a dare - why are there always dares? - late at night a couple of weeks ago, only one got back out alive. Newspaper report says he was talking about an old lady with a hunchback, dressed shabbily but she managed to grab his friends. One of them drowned in a bath of water, even though the property’s been unoccupied and cut off for years, the other was hanged. The friend managed to get away. He sounds pretty incoherent, unsurprisingly, but apparently she was moaning at them all, something about revenge, something about how it wasn’t true.” Sam gestured at some of the sheets of paper spread all over the small table, and Dean gave them a perfunctory glance.
“We’re changing the subject then,” muttered Dean under his breath. “Fine, Sammy, there’s a case: find the old lady, burn the bones, get the hell out of here back to the warm dry states, please.”
“There’s stories of people going missing dating back years, Dean. This has been going on a while.” Sam was almost gone, Dean could tell, far on the way to being lost in reams of lore and stuffy old newspaper articles and whatever else he could find on that laptop of his.
“Fine, do your research. I’m going out. There must at least be something to eat around here.” Dean grabbed his jacket roughly off the chair. He pulled it across his shoulders, picking desolately at the thin fabric,
“I think I saw a Dollar Store on the way in,” offered Sam, not glancing up from his screen.
“...Great. Great.”
*****
“Sam, I’m cold.”
“Shut up, Dean.”
Dean shivered, then shivered more for effect and glared at his brother. “Why are we outside?”
“Why are you asking stupid questions?” Sam shot back.
“S’not a stupid question when it’s this cold,” Dean mumbled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, inwardly cursing snow and ice as they trudged back to the motel room.
“It’s not my fault her grave wasn’t where the records said it was, Dean.” Sam stopped, hefting the duffel back onto his shoulders.
“Hmmm. Are we back yet? I want a hot shower. And warmth. And blankets. And never to see any snow ever again-““
-We’ll have to search again -” Dean groaned, and hunched himself deeper into his jacket , “- I mean, they said she was a witch, so maybe they buried her somewhere else. Or burned her and it’s just not in the records-“
“-I want to go home.”
Sam stopped and glared at Dean.“Seriously, Dean, stop it. Anyway, it’s all angels and demons and seals away from here. I thought you wanted the normality. For a certain degree of normality.”
“I didn’t want normality in the Arctic Tundra, Sam, I wanted comfy sheets, a decent diner - a decent bar - somewhere that isn’t here.” He dropped the point though; Sam was annoyingly correct. The respite from seals and angelic interference was really rather nice, and meant Dean could try to forget about everything - and keep Sam away from that Ruby bitch demon thing for a while. Back to what they knew best - salt and burn.
His thoughts of respite were shattered when Sam’s phone rang. Sam looked at it, looked back at Dean, and dropped his eyes back to the phone, pressing cancel on the pad. Dean’s heart sank.
“Who was that?” he asked, against his better judgement.
“No one. Unknown number.”
Dean side-eyed Sam. “Should have answered it. Might have been a case. Somewhere warm.”
*****
“Shit.”
Dean looked up from the box of Peeps he was seriously considering demolishing. Nothing else to do, after all. “What?”
“Another incident up at the house - kid in hospital. Police tape clearly means nothing, y’know?”
“We always cross police tape.” Dean grunted.
“That’s different. You know it. We should go interview this kid.”
A Peep found its way into Dean’s mouth. “What good’ll that do?” he said, chewing.
“Give us new information, new clues, I don’t know, Dean - and it’s what we do?” Sam ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
“Kid’s not gonna be able to tell us anything we don’t know already. Evil witch bitch gets ganked centuries ago, her evil witch spirit is pretty angry about it and is killing people where her house used to be, evil witch body is missing. Is the kid gonna be able to help us find her bones, or remains or anything, Sammy?”
Sam hammered noisily at his keyboard, steadfastly staring at the screen, ignoring his brother. Dean sighed, and ate another Peep. This wasn’t normality.
“The spirit is gone.”
...now, that was normality. Distressingly so. Uncomfortably normal, and when did that become their lives?
“A hello would be nice, Cas. Hello, Dean, hello, Sam, how are you? The spirit is gone. That’s what humans do. Hello, Cas.” Dean looked at the scattered remains of his box of Peeps, ignoring the fact that maybe, just maybe, he was kind of glad for the “normality” of Castiel and the small bubble of warm relief that appeared deep in his stomach as the initial surprise of Cas’ entrance died away. Sam wasn’t telling him something, this case was cold and annoying and well, there had to be something positive here somewhere. Although who was Dean kidding; that wasn’t his life. Cas clearly wanted something from him, them; he wouldn’t be here otherwise. He wouldn’t just turn up, Dean was certain of it.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel intoned obediently. “Hello, Sam.”
“Wait, the spirit is gone?” Sam interjected. “What did you do?”
“I released her, set her soul free to live in Heaven.” Cas focussed his gaze on Dean, enough so that Dean shifted slightly uncomfortably under its intensity.
“Heaven?” Dean replied, brow furrowing, ignoring the stare. That was pretty close to normality now as well, and if Dean was going to choose not to think about the fact that he was growing more and more comfortable with Castiel just…staring at him, well, that was Dean’s prerogative.. “Cas, you’re aware she was a witch, right? That her spirit was killing innocent people here?”
“She was misunderstood, Dean,” Castiel stated calmly. “She was not a witch, nor was she ever one. Her spirit was merely angry had having been so ill-treated in her life.”
“Merely angry. Oh, it’s alright, Sam, she was ‘merely angry.’ People died, but the evil witch bitch gets paradise ‘cause she was ‘merely angry.’
“This is beside the point,” Castiel said. “We need your help. There is a seal in the area, and we require your help to stop Lilith from destroying it.”
“Great.” Definitely had been too good to be true. Of course the heavenly douchebags wanted something of them. Of course it all came back to the damned seals. Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Joy of joys. Back to reality. Brilliant. What if we say no, Cas?” he snapped, pacing towards the angel. “What if I say I want to spend a bit of time here, go skiing, climb a mountain? Huh?”
“You dislike the snow,” said Cas, looking confused.
“That’s beside the point! We’re on a case, here, man, you can’t just come and drag us off on some Heavenly goose chase because you can’t deal with it yourself.”
Castiel tilted his head in confusion, attention still focussed entirely on Dean. “You are not on a case. The spirit is gone.”
Dean put his head in his hands, relenting. “Fine. Fine. What’s the deal, what’s the seal? Sammy, start packing up that laptop of yours. We’re needed.”
“There is an amulet, a powerful heavenly artifact. It was...lost to us a number of years ago, and we have remained unaware of its whereabouts until now. It is imperative that we retrieve the amulet.” Cas finally turned his gaze onto Sam, holding out his hands in a form of supplication, before turning back to Dean.
“You lost it? You lost a powerful necklace that happens to be one of the seals that’s preventing Lucifer from breaking out of his cage, and you’re only just getting around to finding it? Am I hearing this right, Sam?” Dean whirled round to face his brother, who was still sat at the table, looking an odd mixture of confused and slightly annoyed. Though, Dean thought, that was fairly normal these days too.
“Uh, I think so, Dean,” replied Sam, moving to stand up from the table.. Dean looked suspiciously at Castiel.
“When did you lose it?” he asked. Cas shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “When, Cas?”
“It was lost at the miracle of Ephesus.”
“Little help, here, Cas.” Dean said, rolling his eyes.
“That really happened?” gasped Sam, mouth agape.
Dean rounded on him incredulously. “Geek.”
“Shut up, Dean, it’s interesting. I thought was just a story, made up after, you know, all the actual stuff that happened.” Sam was already sat back down at his laptop, furiously plugging search terms into Google.
“A lot of what you hear is true in some form or another,” said Cas dismissively. “Around 1750 years ago.”
“1750 years ago? 1750 years ago?” Dean gaped. “Sheesh, Cas, couldn’t you have found it sooner?”
“I have been trying,” said Cas, voice rising. “Aariel did not mean for it to be taken, and I have been searching for it ever since. I have not stopped searching for it, Dean, but it is only now that it has surfaced, and I need your help to retrieve it. I did not know it was a seal; I was only recently informed of that fact by my superiors. I could not have done more to search for it in any case. I have looked, Dean.” Dean declined to ask who Aariel was, one of Cas’ angelic buddies, no doubt. He ignored the small flare of heat that rose up unbidden in his stomach at the sound of Cas talking so...almost passionately about another being. His incipient feelings surrounding Castiel were confusing and mired in problems, and he had not been giving himself time to think about them; this whole Lucifer and Lilith business, Sam and this demon chick were rather more worrying. He couldn’t afford to think about himself right now, or think about any of his feelings. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place and it wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was going to happen between them.
“We’ll find it, Cas,” Sam broke in, tone reassuring. “It’s obviously important beyond being this seal.”
“It is a dangerous weapon,” Cas said dully.
“What...what does it do, Cas? Can you tell us?” Sam asked.
“It has an Enochian name, dosig. It loosely translates as ‘night’, insomuch as it can be translated. It has the power of sleep, which can be applied to one man or many. It is dangerous in anyone’s hands, let alone in Lilith’s, and its status as a seal...”
“Pretty serious, then?” said Sam, solemnly. “What’s the seal, exactly?”
“I am unsure. The prophesies are not clear.” Cas stared into the middle distance. “That which shall sleep shall fall, and shall once more herald the falling of the seal.”
“Well, that’s clear.” Dean ate the last Peep and threw the packet into the trash can. “So, where is this piece of jewellery that you can’t just go and get it then?”
“I am not sure,” frowned Cas. “I know that it is in this vicinity: the Host felt the thrum of its existence for the first time since the disappearance and I came as soon as I could.”
“It’s suspicious, is what it is. It just happens to be here, when we are? I don’t like it,” Dean muttered. “I feel like someone has engineered it so that I have to endure this snow for even longer.”
“I have narrowed location down to a small town not far from here. I think, Gilford, if I am reading the signs correctly. There have been reports of disturbances in the air there. I admit, I was a little surprised to find you here, not there.” Cas sounded confused
“We were on a case, Cas, a case that was here.”
“It was inconsequential,” frowned Cas, tilting his head in the now familiar manner as he looked at Dean. Dean shivered a little from the weight of Cas’ gaze which had really been on him for far too long now. It was starting to give him thoughts. Thoughts that he really really wasn’t going to indulge right now. Instead he coughed, shifted on his heels, before huffing and rolling his eyes.
“Tell that to their families,” he muttered under his breath, earning him a look from Sam that distinctly said: ‘lay off him, Dean, this is obviously important to him, and he’s an angel, he doesn’t always understand these things.’ Dean was an expert at interpreting Sam’s looks. He’d been on the receiving end of them for years.
“We should go,” Castiel said, stretching out his arms towards them, two fingers poised against their foreheads.
Dean stepped back, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no Angel Airways today. We’re taking the car. You said it’s not far. We’re driving.”
“Dean.” Sam was giving him another look, which was getting frankly rather annoying. Sam shouldn’t be giving him looks, Dean was the one who needed to be giving Sam looks for trusting demons with long brown hair, for trusting demons at all. Sam didn’t deserve to be giving him all these looks.
“What?” he huffed.
“You said yourself that the car doesn’t like the roads around here, how the salt and shit that they put on the roads plays havoc on her wheel trims or something. Why not batten her down here and take the quick, warm route, huh?”
Damn, but it was annoying when Sam made sense.
“Put a tarp over her and I’ll fly Angel Air,” he conceded, turning back to Castiel. “Properly, mind. I’m not gonna be happy if we get back and my baby’s damaged.”
“Done, Dean,” said Cas, lips twitching in what Dean would almost be prepared to swear was a hint of a smile.
“Right then, let’s go. Off to see the Wizard.”
“I don’t understand that reference.”
“Just make with the flying.”
*****
Gilford was just as unremarkable as Dean had envisaged, but he had to admit it was pretty, in a boring sort of way. The snow was clinging gamely to the trees, and the views down across to the lake were really quite stunning, especially as Cas had managed to land them on top of a seemingly uninhabited hill.
Dean raised his eyebrows when he saw their location. “Your sense of direction astounds me.”
Cas looked around in confusion. “We should not be here,” he said, sounding perplexed. “This is not where I intended to land.”
“Told you we should have driven, Sammy,” said Dean cheerfully, cuffing Sam round the shoulder, who, unprepared, bumped into a tree and got a hairful of snow. “Ha!” laughed Dean, “still like the snow?”
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam turned to Cas, who was still looking around with a furrowed brow, seemingly unable to comprehend how he was standing on top of a snowy mountain. “Any idea why we ended up here, Cas?”
“I...I think there may be some sort of interference in the atmosphere which affected me. It must be the demon who has the amulet casting some sort of aura to prevent our arrival.”
“Well, try again, then, Cas. Glorious as this hulk of a mountain is, I ain’t Mohammed and I ain’t going to the mountain unless there’s something on it for me. Like a beer.” Dean waved his arms at Cas, “C’mon.”
“You...would like a beer? Now?” Castiel queried, looking between the two brothers with a quizzical expression.
“Yes!” exclaimed Dean, “That’s more like it. Use that angel mojo for something useful.”
“No, Cas,” said Sam, still brushing wet snowflakes from his hair, which had become rather soggy and was dripping into his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we want beer on the mountain. We want to be off the mountain.”
“Well, yes,” nodded Castiel. “I do not wish to be here either. If you will allow me--” He reached forward, fingers outstretched again, ignoring Dean’s continued grumbling. It wasn’t Dean’s fault if he didn’t want to teleport around more than once in a single day. If the angel couldn’t manage to do it right the first time, he probably shouldn’t have bothered. Driving didn’t have these problems. Although, Dean had to admit, as the world blinked out of vision, Cas’ confused expression when they landed in the snow had been quite endearing. Took the stick out of his ass for a moment. Made that warm feeling appear in his stomach again. That one that, yes, he was still very definitely ignoring. Hunters like him didn’t go around getting feelings for angels. Nope. No way.
Dean had never yet managed to work up the courage to open his eyes during one of Cas’ voyages. He wasn’t sure if it was like looking at the true form of an angel: would his eyes burn out by seeing angelic travelling? He wondered if Cas’ wings were visible when he made these trips. He’d seen their shadow, nothing more, and they were impressive. Impressive in a way that made Dean want to see them again. One day, he promised himself, he’d ask Cas about them, maybe ask to see them. When he finally felt solid ground beneath his feet and could open his eyes again, the first thing that assaulted his senses was the noise - a gentle very familiar sounding hubbub, swiftly followed by a very familiar smell.
“Cas!” he exclaimed happily. “You brought us to a bar after all!” Maybe Castiel cared after all. He stepped up to the bar, signalling for a beer. Cas had the perplexed expression on his face again.
“This is not right either.”
Dean was just about to wrap his hand around the cool bottle that had appeared in front of him - it had been days since he had a good cold beer in a bar - when he felt the touch of fingers on his forehead and the now familiar tightening of the atmosphere around him. “No, Cas, nononono,” he began, flailing ineffectively. Clearly not with the caring then.
They popped up again in typically damp, decrepit looking alley way, and Dean, who had been caught off balance when Cas initiated movement again, fell instantly to the ground.
“I hate you,” he glared, petulantly. “You don’t give a man a beer and then snatch it from him. Stop grinning, Sammy. Stop it.”
“You’ll live,” Sam replied, holding out a hand to help his brother up, who stretched and brushed hopelessly at his behind.
“Doesn’t mean I’ll be happy.” He brushed at himself unhappily again. “I’m all wet and I’ve got no beer. This is not a good trip.”
“This is the location,” chimed in Cas. “Over there. It is heavily shielded. I fear I cannot enter.”
“Well, there’s a surprise. Stop it--” Dean shook off Sam’s hand, which had moved to brush some wet leaves off his shoulder. “Are you angels useful for anything? Seems to me like you’re always getting us ‘mudmonkeys’ to do your jobs for you.”
Cas shifted uncomfortably. “Uriel’s opinions are his own. We do not always see eye to eye on our ideas of humanity.”
“Oh, you have ideas about humanity?”
“Dean,” Sam interjected, again. “Not the time. You can argue with Castiel another time, if you must. Let’s get this done, shall we?”
“Fine. What exactly are we doing?” They both turned to look at Castiel, questioning, but before Castiel could answer, there was a rush of cold air through the alley. Castiel swirled round, instantly on the defensive, and Dean did the same, positioning himself slightly in front of Sam. Old habits died hard, after all. Dean could see the glint of angel blade poking from the bottom of Castiel’s sleeve, which reassured him slightly. Castiel was a warrior, he reminded himself. He could fight, for all his portrayed innocence.
There was a man standing at the entrance to the alley way, holding himself tall, stiffly. He was silhouetted against the lowering sun, and Dean squinted trying to get a better glimpse of the man - demon - innocent bystander?
“Aariel?” said Cas quietly.
The figure nodded, and Castiel relaxed. It wasn’t much of a relaxation, but there was a visible difference in his stance. He seemed less threatening, less powerful.
“Aariel, why are you here?” His voice wasn’t angry, merely weary, weathered with sighs.
“I could not--” Aariel’s vessel was young, but dressed in the familiar black suit that Dean had come to associate with all of the angels, minus Castiel and Anna. Black suit clearly equalled dick angel, and from Aariel’s initial demeanour, Dean didn’t see much reason to change his opinion here.
“Wait, Aariel?” Dean pushed forward past Castiel, staring incredulously at the man in front of them. “The one who lost the amulet in the first place? He’s right - why are you here?”
Aariel blinked slowly at Dean. “These humans,” he said, addressing Castiel, “are here to help?”
Castiel nodded. “Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam. It is impossible for us to enter the location of the amulet. Sam and Dean will aid us in this.”
Aariel looked back at Dean. “The Righteous Man, and his tainted-blood brother.”
“Hey!” Dean shouted, surging forward even as Sam grabbed his arm to stop him. Definitely a dick angel. “You don’t get to talk about my family like that. From what I understand, this mess wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.” Sam kept his grip on Dean, wisely, as Dean wasn’t always the wisest when it came to attacking creatures that were more powerful than himself.
“I have admitted my guilt and atoned for my actions,” Aariel replied calmly, approaching the small group. “Have you?”
“That’s -- lemme go, Sam! Let me go!” Dean advanced forward, but even as he writhed against Sam’s grip on his arm, he relaxed slightly, although he remained on the offensive, glaring daggers at Aariel.
“Aariel,” said Cas sharply. “That is enough. Sam and Dean are helping us. I still do not understand why you are here. I was not informed that you would be attending.”
Aariel backed away from Dean, although Dean could swear that the shadows in the alley bristled. Dean didn’t understand Aariel’s reaction; Uriel had been indifferent, and rude, but this seemed like the angel hated him personally. Which was odd, because Dean had never met this Aariel before. Hadn’t heard of him before today.
“As I began to say,” Aariel replied, “bearing responsibility as I do, I could not fail to be here. The loss was my fault.”
“Aariel,” began Castiel wearily. “We have been through this for centuries, do not resurrect this now. You could have done nothing to prevent it. The demon who took this from you was powerful, and his focus on his mission great. You have nothing to feel guilt for.”
“Yet I do, and I do still. You have searching for this for me for years, Castiel, let me be part of the conclusion.” The angel staredhard at Castiel, and the two angels merely looked at each other in silence for what seemed far too long. It was almost like they were conversing in some secret language, and Dean wasn’t entirely down with that. This angel, there was something there, something between him and Castiel, and Dean really, well, he didn’t like that. It made his heart clench. It made him suspicious. And he didn’t like the way Aariel was looking at Castiel right now. Or the way Castiel was looking back, with that intensity. Dean was, he decided, far too used to that look being directly solely at him. And he’d rather like it to stay that way.
Castiel hesitated, looking between Dean and Aariel. “You will stay with me,” he decided.
“This is acceptable,” nodded Aariel, and Dean could have sworn that he smirked at him. He couldn’t have done though - that didn’t fit with any angel behaviour that Dean had experienced thus far, not that he would go so far as to call himself an expert.
“Wait,” said Sam, cutting in, “we still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, or what we’re doing. What’s in there - you said a demon took it? What demon?”
“He gave no name,” said Aariel ruefully. “He smelled heavily of sulfur, and he blinked with yellow eyes.”
Sam and Dean shared a look, the kind of look that most people could probably manage to interpret as ‘oh shit’ mixed with a suitable degree of ‘oh, well, that’s alright then.”
“Can’t be him here now, you must know that, right? He’s dead. Killed him, the bastard,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel. “He’s dead, right? I killed him.”
“To my knowledge, Azazel has not returned. I believe that the amulet has been passed to another, although I cannot be sure: the demons have had possession of it for the past millennium. And now Lilith wants it, so it is even more imperative that we retrieve it.”
Dean nodded, the tight feeling that had settled in his stomach dissipating slightly. “So, what’s the plan?”
“You will enter the building and retrieve the amulet,” Castiel said blinking blankly.
“Simple as that, huh? Why didn’t you say so? We’ll just walk in and grab it, shall we?” Dean raised his eyebrows at Castiel.
“That would seem to be the idea.” Aarie broke in, his tone withering. Dean turned and narrowed his eyes at the angel. He really didn’t like this one, more so than other angels he’d met. There was something else off, something…additional. Witheringly?
Dean sighed, pushing all of that down, and closed his eyes, ignoring Aariel. “He’s not going,” he said, when he opened them again, pointing at Sam.
“Dean!”
“No arguments, Sam. He’s not going, Cas.”
“Dean, you’re not going in there by yourself--” Sam protested.
“And you’re not going in there at all, Sammy. If there’s even a chance that Yellow Eyes has something to do with this, I’m not putting you within range of it.”
“I can make my own decisions, Dean.” Sam flared his nostrils, trying to stare his brother down.
“And I’m making this one for you. No, you’re not going.” Dean added, in his tone that was meant to say ‘no more arguments, Sam, this is what I say and this is what goes.’ Typically, Sam ignored it.
“That’s over, Dean. We killed him and my visions stopped.”
“I’m not risking it, Sammy. It’s all too much of a coincidence: this amulet turns up near where we are, turns out Yellow Eyes is involved, the angels can’t go in -- no, Sam, the answer is no.”
“Your brother speaks some sense,” said Aariel.
“You what?” Dean snapped, rounding on Aariel again, eyes hard.
“It may be better for him to go in alone, to enable him to more successfully avoid detection. It may be easier for him to retrieve the amulet this way.” Aariel
“Excuse me?” exclaimed Sam. “C’mon, Cas, you can’t agree with this?”
“There...is...a certain risk with you, Sam Winchester, that I had failed to consider--” Cas muttered, shamefaced.
Sam huffed loudly and threw his arms out. “Oh, you cannot be serious. I’m fine. There is nothing wrong with me.”
Dean couldn’t contain the slight breath that escaped from him then, and Sam whirled round to glare at him. “What’s that meant to mean, Dean?”
“You know what it means. You’re not exactly normal, Sammy.”
“I’m not doing that anymore, Dean, I told you.” Sam gestured vaguely towards his head, wiggling his fingers. “That’s all over.”
“Sam,” broke in Castiel, “I do, on this occasion, think your brother and Aariel are correct. The circumstances do seem to suggest that it would be unwise to send you in. I should have thought of this, I apologise. Dean,” Castiel continued, “I am sorry for bringing your brother here.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean muttered. “Just, stick with him, and don’t let him follow me.”
“I’m not some animal to be ordered around, Dean!” burst out Sam angrily.
“This isn’t an argument anymore, Sam! It’s not safe for you--”
“And it is for you?”
“Safer than it is for you!”
Castiel looked between the two brothers warily. “Are they always like this?” asked Aariel, peering at them curiously as they continued to bicker, oblivious to their audience.
“Often,” nodded Castiel. “It can be quite interesting to observe as a point of human interaction.”
“I think I prefer our brotherly affections,” decided Aariel, edging closer to Castiel. “Do you remember when--”
“Stop, Aariel.” Cas said quietly, not taking his eyes off the argument still occurring in front of him.
“You used to welcome this,” said the younger angel, pushing an otherworldly wing against Castiel’s. “What happened to change how you feel?”
“This is neither the time nor the place, Aariel. You know I care for you and love you as my brother. Accept that for what it is and nothing more. What there was between us once is no longer.” Cas replied calmly?
“Because of him, because of that human,” Aariel hissed. “He is nothing, Castiel, and you have known him for no time--”
“Enough, Aariel,” glared Castiel, placing a distance between their vessels. “Enough, or you can return to heaven immediately.”
“You will not find what you seek with him,” Aariel continued, despite himself. “He will only lead you to ruin. He is a human; interesting as they are, they are points of interest only, to be observed and studied. You taught me this, Castiel, do you now forget your own teachings?”
“Enough,” growled Cas, harsh enough that Dean and Sam paused in their argument and turned to stare at the two angels. “Aariel was just leaving. Dean, you should go. Do you have the knife?”
Dean nodded mutely, as Aariel glared at Cas, before blinking out of this world with a gust and a flutter of wings. “What got into his feathers?” he asked.
“It is none of your concern. You should concentrate on returning safely, with the amulet.”
“Right,” agreed Dean with a pointed look in Sam’s direction, who glared down at the ground instead. “What am I looking for?”
“A small pendant, on a golden chain. It is, if I remember correctly, made of a purple stone, amethyst maybe.” Cas’ full attention was on Dean again, now Aariel was gone. If Dean wasn’t too busy worrying about Sam and everything involved in that, which, really, was a shitpile of mess right now, he could have sworn that a smile, some emotion, a hint of…concern flitted across Castiel’s face, but it was gone before he could properly register it. It was probably nothing in any case. Probably meant nothing. Castiel was probably still thinking of Aariel. It couldn’t mean anything and besides. Totally not thinking about that.
“Good good. I’ll be off then. Stupidly dangerous annoying mission to get a pretty necklace. Wonderful.” He patted his waist, checking the position of the knife and his other weapons, before walking away down the alley. Just before the end he turned. “Stay here with Cas, Sam. I’ll be back soon.”
“Your brother is a determined individual,” ventured Cas after a few moments of silence. He was unsure of what to say around this tainted one; he could sense the blood upon him, but he was Dean’s brother, which seemed to count for many more things than Cas could understand. He loved and admired all his brothers equally, but he could not imagine one of them being quite so concerned for him? Zachariah certainly would not do that for Castiel, nor would Uriel. He could envisage none of his brothers acting as Dean did towards Sam. Aariel had been different, once, one he had felt a connection deeper than any other of his kin, and this, this...had changed them.
~~~~~
462AD, Ephesus.
“The time has come.”
Zachariah lifted one of his heads - not the lion, which steadfastly ignored Castiel’s comment and merely went on dozing. “You will finally stop going on about it, then.”
“We left Aariel there. Cut off from us all, can you even begin to imagine, Zacha--”
“I can imagine perfectly well, Castiel,” Zachariah sniffed dismissively. The lion yawned. “But he is not dead, so there is no need for any worry. More important is finding out what has happened to the amulet.”
“Which we could have done, by going down there and rescuing Aariel.”
“You know perfectly well we could not do that, Castiel,” he snapped. “Those were not your orders and they were not mine. You know we had to wait and let this run its course.”
“He has been alone,” Castiel stated vehemently. “I intend to see him home safely. Brother, I wish to be charged with the completion of this mission. Do not deny me this.”
Zachariah’s four sets of shoulders shrugged altogether, and the lion snuffled sleepily, before blinking eerily at Castiel. Castiel stared back at the lion, puffing his slightly more diminutive form up as much as he could. “Fine,” said Zachariah, and Castiel relaxed. “You can go. But remember your primary mission, Castiel - see that the miracle is successful, and locate the amulet. Your...student is a secondary concern.”
Castiel’s wings bristled, but he remained silent. Nothing good ever came out of arguing with Zachariah, and he had got what he wanted.
~~
Castiel floated easily down to Earth, pleased he didn’t have to go through the hassle of seeking and persuading a vessel to contain him in this instance. He just needed to observe.
And find Aariel.
The cave was already open, the miracle a success, but of more concern was the dazed and confused expression on the face of the leader of the men. Castiel sent out a tendril of Grace, carefully, and the man’s face relaxed instantly. Castiel nudged the Grace again, felt the answering call as Aariel finally surged free of his earthly vessel and began his journey heavenwards again. Castiel hardly noticed the body fall to the ground as they left, or the gasps of the crowd around them.
Aariel was quiet, Castiel noticed, on the journey back. He had never been loud, but this was a different sort of quiet. Maybe, Castiel imagined, he was overwhelmed by listening to all of the voices again. He hardly heard them anymore, except when he listened, but to Aariel, who had been lost in silence for two centuries...Or perhaps he had simply grown out of the habit of talking. “Brother,” Castiel tried, not quite knowing what to say.
Aariel turned his form back to Castiel, hunched and contained. Castiel sighed. Aariel was hurting. “Brother,” he tried again, “this was not your fault.”
“I let him trick me,” Aariel whispered. “He took the amulet. I should have fought him, I should have sensed his presence.”
“You were not to know, brother! From what you have just told me of this demon, he is cunning and ruthless, like all his kind. You have not encountered his like before, brother, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“He should have killed me, yet he let me live. He knew this shame would be worse punishment, Castiel.”
Castiel sighed, and he brushed a wing softly against Aariel’s. “You will be forgiven, Aariel. The miracle was a success; it was everything our Father wished it to be.”
“I lost the amulet, brother! That amulet, and all its power now lies in the hands of a demon because of me. I should be cast out for my shame.”
“No!” Castiel’s wing grip tightened. “You do not deserve that, Aariel. You could not have prevented this. You did all you could.”
Aariel only answered him with silence.
“I missed your presence, brother,” Castiel ventured. “I missed hearing your voice amongst the chorus. I am glad to have you back.”
“You did not come before.”
“I could not! It was forbidden, brother. I argued with Zachariah over and over again, but he would not let me leave.”
“You could have--”
“You know I could not! Zachariah receives his orders from our Father, Aariel, and I trust in Him. I wanted nothing more than to know you were safe, but I could not.”
Their angelic forms were close, distances not being the same in heavenly circles, but Castiel could feel the space between them as if it were a chasm.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, as softly as he could, stretching his wing beside Aariel’s again. “I am truly sorry you were left there, but my duty is to my Father first and foremost. My love for you remains, Aariel, but I could not disobey our Father’s orders.”
Aariel’s wing did not remain beside his, and Castiel sighed. Maybe with time, Aariel would understand. “We will find the amulet, Aariel. We will reclaim it for Heaven.”
“You can’t be sure of that. It’s been centuries, Castiel, and you have heard nothing of it. Why should it be any different now.”
“We will find it, Aariel.”
“You do not know when. You cannot say why this demon took it from me, and has then not used it for centuries. He must know of its power, but you tell me there has been no indication that it has been used, or even spoken of. You cannot say anything with any certainty, Castiel, none of us can.”
“We will look for it until we find it. I will look for it, brother, until I find it.” Castiel longed to wrap his wing around Aariel’s form, but hesitated, the earlier reaction informing his actions. Aariel felt disconsolate, he felt lost, and Castiel didn’t know what to say or do to relieve that feeling. “We will find it,” he repeated hopelessly.
~~~~~
Part 2
It began with the beginning of all things, with the creation of life; that spark ignited in the universe, the creation of the Heavens, the creation of Earth and the creation of Man. It began with the Fall, with the original sin. It began with a growing evil, with hidden meanings and hidden purposes. It began with the first gospels, set down within a growing belief. It began in stories, in little miracles, in larger ones, in pomp and circumstance and glory and righteousness. It began in heavenly influences, in heavenly interventions, in things left behind, things forgotten.
257AD, Ephesus, modern day Turkey.
It is time. They approach, Aariel.
The play of light as the sun rose over the hills really was a true reflection of the glory of his Father’s creation. Aariel found himself content to sit and watch the beauty of the changing shadows and colors, even as he knew what was approaching the men who sat in the cave behind him.
Understood, my brothers. Aariel stood, an unknown tightness in the limbs he wore. He stretched tentatively, as if by extending his arms he could burst out of the restricting shell that confined him. Winding up the path from the field below them, were warriors, Decius and his men, come to demand the loyalty that Aariel, and the men he now led, could not allow them to take.
Aariel retreated to the cave, turning slowly when he felt the approach of the solider. “We do not recant,” said Aariel, speaking for them all, as his companions knelt around him. He saw the cold glint in Decius’ eyes, knew then that it was all going to plan, and he dropped gently to his knees to the hard floor of the cave. They had started blocking out the light already, darkness rolling over the seven of them piece by piece. Aariel could feel the tremble in the bodies of the men around him. “Calm,” he urged, “have faith.”
As the last sliver of day began to slip from view, Aariel clasped his hand around the amulet that dangled from his neck. “Now,” he intoned, willing power, Grace, into the small stone; the thrum and intensity of the magic building within him. “Sleep.”
Task successfully fulfilled, Aariel carefully sat his vessel down and prepared for the loosening of the bonds that would free him from the human boundaries and allow him to return to the celestial realm, mission completed.
There was nothing. There was no break, no freedom, no light. Nothing. Aariel frowned within his skin and moved the vessel’s ’s fingers tenatively. He frowned harder and concentrated his attentions again, curling his hand into tight fists.
Still nothing. A small unfamiliar tightness settled in Aariel’s stomach and he opened his eyes to look around him. In training he had encountered no problems with the motions of leaving a vessel, and he ran through the steps once more in his mind, slowly going through them one by one. Nothing. He remained within..
Aariel was not built for panic, but he certainly felt something like it at that point. Castiel, he tried, projecting heavenwards. Castiel, something is not right. Castiel?.
Castiel.
Castiel, why don’t you answer?
...why is there no answer?
My brothers. Brothers?
Brothers?
Utter silence. There was nothing. Everywhere there was nothingness. He could hear no one and no one could hear him. The tightness in Aariel’s stomach grew, and he stumbled to his feet, disorientated. He hadn’t noticed at first, but the hum, the familiar hum of the Host within his being, was gone.
He was alone.
The ever increasing panic settled coldly in his borrowed blood, but he forced himself to move towards the entrance to the cave, soundly blocked in by the soliders. He ran his fingers around the smooth stones, possibilities running through his mind. He could move the stone aside, leave the cave, find another way to leave his vessel and return home. He could transport himself outside the cave without the necessity of moving the stones. He could leave, and consequently there was no need for worry. He would leave the cave, and he would be able to return home. Castiel would be able to explain; he would understand.
Nothing. There was nothing. The stones remained, Aariel remained. He was trapped, truely trapped, without any contact with the host, alone, for the first time in his existence.
Aariel sank to his knees.
“You can hand over the amulet now.”
The voice came from a dark corner of the cave, soft, but with an eerie quality that rasped against Aariel’s ears. He shuddered, turning round to find the source of the voice. A pair of eyes blinked calmly back at him, flashed yellow, blinked back. Aariel gasped and shuddered again, the acrid smell of sulphur filling his nostrils.
“Begone, demon,” he breathed. “This is a place of holiness. It is no place for your kind.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” drawled the demon, stepping forward. “And I don’t think you’re really in the position to be telling me what to do.”
“I will smite you where you stand,” Aariel said, trying to control the tremble that threatened to enter his voice.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re cut off, little angel, far away from home. You can’t call them, they can’t call you. You can try, if you’d like,” he offered, and grinned at Aariel.
Aariel snarled and leaped up, slamming his hand against the demon’s forehead, bracing himself for the burning purifying light.
Nothing. All was nothing.
“Well, now we’ve got that out of the way,” continued the demon, sidestepping from Aariel’s still outstretched arm, “I’ll just take that amulet you’ve got and be on my way.”
“I will not give you the amulet.” He didn’t try to hide the shake in his voice this time. “I would die first.”
“Angels,” sighed the demon, dusting his hands together. “If I kill you, angel, I’ll just take the amulet from your dead meatsuit. I don’t need to kill you; I’ve nothing against you personally, other than the whole, well, you’re an angel.”
“I would die first,” Aariel repeated.
“We don’t all get what we want, little angel. Well, I do, one way or the other, but...”
The knot of panic wasn’t going anywhere, settled in deep as the demon reached forward, grabbing the amulet from where it dangled around Aariel’s neck. “Sigils, little angel. You’re powerless, cut off, and you can’t go anywhere. And now,” he finished, snapping the delicate cord with a quick tug, “the amulet is mine.”
Trapped, alone, scared, Aariel could only blink helplessly as the demon snatched the pendant from him and vanished out of the cave.
“Have fun, little angel.” His voice echoed around the chamber, and Aariel sank back to the ground. He refused to think about what this loss meant to the Host.
His brothers would come for him. He would be free. He would not remain trapped in the darkness without even the glory of light to ease his waiting.
And so it was, that in the village of Ephesus, a miracle of the Lord did occur. Faith had fallen within this land, and thus it was decreed that an Angel of Our Father would descend to the earthly realm to share the heavenly wisdom and faith with a group of devout and true men. And so it was that the Angel did speak to them, and ask of them to trust in the Lord and to give to the Lord a gift. The Angel then did place upon them the sleep of two hundred years, and yet they did not age and they did not die.
The two hundred years thus passed, they did awake, as was forewritten, and made their way to their village of old, where they found their coins and clothes were regarded with confusion. Verily, they were able to prove their heritage, and show to all who looked upon them the true glory and power of the Lord.
(Verses from the lost Book of Jehu)
November 2008, New Hampshire, USA.
“There’s nothing here,” Dean moaned, flopping backwards onto one of the motel beds. “There is literally nothing in this town. Just snow,and hills with snow on. And more snow. Why’ve you dragged me here?”
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, setting up his laptop on the small table in the corner of the room. “Nobody dragged you anywhere, Dean. We agreed that there were definite signs of a haunting of some sort here. There’s a case, Dean, so you can just get used to the snow.”
Dean huffed, picking at the (oh god, were those cherubs?) peeling wallpaper on the walls. “I didn’t realise the case was all the way in Bumfuck, New Hampshire when you told me how vital it was.”
“You didn’t notice you were driving north?”
“I didn’t realise I was driving to the land of snow and mountains. She doesn’t like the snow, Sammy.”
“You knew perfectly well where we were going.”Sam sighed resignedly and turned his attention back down to the pile of newspaper clippings in his hands.
“We’re almost in Canada, Sam. Canada,” exclaimed Dean petulantly, thumping down onto the scrawny comforter. “Canada,” he repeated, drawn out and slow, as if this could change anything about the fact.
Sam rolled his eyes, and continued staring at the papers, flicking back and forth between the stories.
Dean huffed again, and pulled himself back up to seated. “Least we’re not likely to be bothered by any demons up here,” he muttered, glancing over at Sam as he did so. Sam resolutely ignored him. “Bet they don’t like snow. Cold an’ all that.”
“Hmm,” Sam answered non-committally
“...Right.”
“So, there’s this old house on the way out of town, into the forest. Some kids went there on a dare - why are there always dares? - late at night a couple of weeks ago, only one got back out alive. Newspaper report says he was talking about an old lady with a hunchback, dressed shabbily but she managed to grab his friends. One of them drowned in a bath of water, even though the property’s been unoccupied and cut off for years, the other was hanged. The friend managed to get away. He sounds pretty incoherent, unsurprisingly, but apparently she was moaning at them all, something about revenge, something about how it wasn’t true.” Sam gestured at some of the sheets of paper spread all over the small table, and Dean gave them a perfunctory glance.
“We’re changing the subject then,” muttered Dean under his breath. “Fine, Sammy, there’s a case: find the old lady, burn the bones, get the hell out of here back to the warm dry states, please.”
“There’s stories of people going missing dating back years, Dean. This has been going on a while.” Sam was almost gone, Dean could tell, far on the way to being lost in reams of lore and stuffy old newspaper articles and whatever else he could find on that laptop of his.
“Fine, do your research. I’m going out. There must at least be something to eat around here.” Dean grabbed his jacket roughly off the chair. He pulled it across his shoulders, picking desolately at the thin fabric,
“I think I saw a Dollar Store on the way in,” offered Sam, not glancing up from his screen.
“...Great. Great.”
*****
“Sam, I’m cold.”
“Shut up, Dean.”
Dean shivered, then shivered more for effect and glared at his brother. “Why are we outside?”
“Why are you asking stupid questions?” Sam shot back.
“S’not a stupid question when it’s this cold,” Dean mumbled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, inwardly cursing snow and ice as they trudged back to the motel room.
“It’s not my fault her grave wasn’t where the records said it was, Dean.” Sam stopped, hefting the duffel back onto his shoulders.
“Hmmm. Are we back yet? I want a hot shower. And warmth. And blankets. And never to see any snow ever again-““
-We’ll have to search again -” Dean groaned, and hunched himself deeper into his jacket , “- I mean, they said she was a witch, so maybe they buried her somewhere else. Or burned her and it’s just not in the records-“
“-I want to go home.”
Sam stopped and glared at Dean.“Seriously, Dean, stop it. Anyway, it’s all angels and demons and seals away from here. I thought you wanted the normality. For a certain degree of normality.”
“I didn’t want normality in the Arctic Tundra, Sam, I wanted comfy sheets, a decent diner - a decent bar - somewhere that isn’t here.” He dropped the point though; Sam was annoyingly correct. The respite from seals and angelic interference was really rather nice, and meant Dean could try to forget about everything - and keep Sam away from that Ruby bitch demon thing for a while. Back to what they knew best - salt and burn.
His thoughts of respite were shattered when Sam’s phone rang. Sam looked at it, looked back at Dean, and dropped his eyes back to the phone, pressing cancel on the pad. Dean’s heart sank.
“Who was that?” he asked, against his better judgement.
“No one. Unknown number.”
Dean side-eyed Sam. “Should have answered it. Might have been a case. Somewhere warm.”
*****
“Shit.”
Dean looked up from the box of Peeps he was seriously considering demolishing. Nothing else to do, after all. “What?”
“Another incident up at the house - kid in hospital. Police tape clearly means nothing, y’know?”
“We always cross police tape.” Dean grunted.
“That’s different. You know it. We should go interview this kid.”
A Peep found its way into Dean’s mouth. “What good’ll that do?” he said, chewing.
“Give us new information, new clues, I don’t know, Dean - and it’s what we do?” Sam ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
“Kid’s not gonna be able to tell us anything we don’t know already. Evil witch bitch gets ganked centuries ago, her evil witch spirit is pretty angry about it and is killing people where her house used to be, evil witch body is missing. Is the kid gonna be able to help us find her bones, or remains or anything, Sammy?”
Sam hammered noisily at his keyboard, steadfastly staring at the screen, ignoring his brother. Dean sighed, and ate another Peep. This wasn’t normality.
“The spirit is gone.”
...now, that was normality. Distressingly so. Uncomfortably normal, and when did that become their lives?
“A hello would be nice, Cas. Hello, Dean, hello, Sam, how are you? The spirit is gone. That’s what humans do. Hello, Cas.” Dean looked at the scattered remains of his box of Peeps, ignoring the fact that maybe, just maybe, he was kind of glad for the “normality” of Castiel and the small bubble of warm relief that appeared deep in his stomach as the initial surprise of Cas’ entrance died away. Sam wasn’t telling him something, this case was cold and annoying and well, there had to be something positive here somewhere. Although who was Dean kidding; that wasn’t his life. Cas clearly wanted something from him, them; he wouldn’t be here otherwise. He wouldn’t just turn up, Dean was certain of it.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel intoned obediently. “Hello, Sam.”
“Wait, the spirit is gone?” Sam interjected. “What did you do?”
“I released her, set her soul free to live in Heaven.” Cas focussed his gaze on Dean, enough so that Dean shifted slightly uncomfortably under its intensity.
“Heaven?” Dean replied, brow furrowing, ignoring the stare. That was pretty close to normality now as well, and if Dean was going to choose not to think about the fact that he was growing more and more comfortable with Castiel just…staring at him, well, that was Dean’s prerogative.. “Cas, you’re aware she was a witch, right? That her spirit was killing innocent people here?”
“She was misunderstood, Dean,” Castiel stated calmly. “She was not a witch, nor was she ever one. Her spirit was merely angry had having been so ill-treated in her life.”
“Merely angry. Oh, it’s alright, Sam, she was ‘merely angry.’ People died, but the evil witch bitch gets paradise ‘cause she was ‘merely angry.’
“This is beside the point,” Castiel said. “We need your help. There is a seal in the area, and we require your help to stop Lilith from destroying it.”
“Great.” Definitely had been too good to be true. Of course the heavenly douchebags wanted something of them. Of course it all came back to the damned seals. Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Joy of joys. Back to reality. Brilliant. What if we say no, Cas?” he snapped, pacing towards the angel. “What if I say I want to spend a bit of time here, go skiing, climb a mountain? Huh?”
“You dislike the snow,” said Cas, looking confused.
“That’s beside the point! We’re on a case, here, man, you can’t just come and drag us off on some Heavenly goose chase because you can’t deal with it yourself.”
Castiel tilted his head in confusion, attention still focussed entirely on Dean. “You are not on a case. The spirit is gone.”
Dean put his head in his hands, relenting. “Fine. Fine. What’s the deal, what’s the seal? Sammy, start packing up that laptop of yours. We’re needed.”
“There is an amulet, a powerful heavenly artifact. It was...lost to us a number of years ago, and we have remained unaware of its whereabouts until now. It is imperative that we retrieve the amulet.” Cas finally turned his gaze onto Sam, holding out his hands in a form of supplication, before turning back to Dean.
“You lost it? You lost a powerful necklace that happens to be one of the seals that’s preventing Lucifer from breaking out of his cage, and you’re only just getting around to finding it? Am I hearing this right, Sam?” Dean whirled round to face his brother, who was still sat at the table, looking an odd mixture of confused and slightly annoyed. Though, Dean thought, that was fairly normal these days too.
“Uh, I think so, Dean,” replied Sam, moving to stand up from the table.. Dean looked suspiciously at Castiel.
“When did you lose it?” he asked. Cas shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “When, Cas?”
“It was lost at the miracle of Ephesus.”
“Little help, here, Cas.” Dean said, rolling his eyes.
“That really happened?” gasped Sam, mouth agape.
Dean rounded on him incredulously. “Geek.”
“Shut up, Dean, it’s interesting. I thought was just a story, made up after, you know, all the actual stuff that happened.” Sam was already sat back down at his laptop, furiously plugging search terms into Google.
“A lot of what you hear is true in some form or another,” said Cas dismissively. “Around 1750 years ago.”
“1750 years ago? 1750 years ago?” Dean gaped. “Sheesh, Cas, couldn’t you have found it sooner?”
“I have been trying,” said Cas, voice rising. “Aariel did not mean for it to be taken, and I have been searching for it ever since. I have not stopped searching for it, Dean, but it is only now that it has surfaced, and I need your help to retrieve it. I did not know it was a seal; I was only recently informed of that fact by my superiors. I could not have done more to search for it in any case. I have looked, Dean.” Dean declined to ask who Aariel was, one of Cas’ angelic buddies, no doubt. He ignored the small flare of heat that rose up unbidden in his stomach at the sound of Cas talking so...almost passionately about another being. His incipient feelings surrounding Castiel were confusing and mired in problems, and he had not been giving himself time to think about them; this whole Lucifer and Lilith business, Sam and this demon chick were rather more worrying. He couldn’t afford to think about himself right now, or think about any of his feelings. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place and it wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was going to happen between them.
“We’ll find it, Cas,” Sam broke in, tone reassuring. “It’s obviously important beyond being this seal.”
“It is a dangerous weapon,” Cas said dully.
“What...what does it do, Cas? Can you tell us?” Sam asked.
“It has an Enochian name, dosig. It loosely translates as ‘night’, insomuch as it can be translated. It has the power of sleep, which can be applied to one man or many. It is dangerous in anyone’s hands, let alone in Lilith’s, and its status as a seal...”
“Pretty serious, then?” said Sam, solemnly. “What’s the seal, exactly?”
“I am unsure. The prophesies are not clear.” Cas stared into the middle distance. “That which shall sleep shall fall, and shall once more herald the falling of the seal.”
“Well, that’s clear.” Dean ate the last Peep and threw the packet into the trash can. “So, where is this piece of jewellery that you can’t just go and get it then?”
“I am not sure,” frowned Cas. “I know that it is in this vicinity: the Host felt the thrum of its existence for the first time since the disappearance and I came as soon as I could.”
“It’s suspicious, is what it is. It just happens to be here, when we are? I don’t like it,” Dean muttered. “I feel like someone has engineered it so that I have to endure this snow for even longer.”
“I have narrowed location down to a small town not far from here. I think, Gilford, if I am reading the signs correctly. There have been reports of disturbances in the air there. I admit, I was a little surprised to find you here, not there.” Cas sounded confused
“We were on a case, Cas, a case that was here.”
“It was inconsequential,” frowned Cas, tilting his head in the now familiar manner as he looked at Dean. Dean shivered a little from the weight of Cas’ gaze which had really been on him for far too long now. It was starting to give him thoughts. Thoughts that he really really wasn’t going to indulge right now. Instead he coughed, shifted on his heels, before huffing and rolling his eyes.
“Tell that to their families,” he muttered under his breath, earning him a look from Sam that distinctly said: ‘lay off him, Dean, this is obviously important to him, and he’s an angel, he doesn’t always understand these things.’ Dean was an expert at interpreting Sam’s looks. He’d been on the receiving end of them for years.
“We should go,” Castiel said, stretching out his arms towards them, two fingers poised against their foreheads.
Dean stepped back, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no Angel Airways today. We’re taking the car. You said it’s not far. We’re driving.”
“Dean.” Sam was giving him another look, which was getting frankly rather annoying. Sam shouldn’t be giving him looks, Dean was the one who needed to be giving Sam looks for trusting demons with long brown hair, for trusting demons at all. Sam didn’t deserve to be giving him all these looks.
“What?” he huffed.
“You said yourself that the car doesn’t like the roads around here, how the salt and shit that they put on the roads plays havoc on her wheel trims or something. Why not batten her down here and take the quick, warm route, huh?”
Damn, but it was annoying when Sam made sense.
“Put a tarp over her and I’ll fly Angel Air,” he conceded, turning back to Castiel. “Properly, mind. I’m not gonna be happy if we get back and my baby’s damaged.”
“Done, Dean,” said Cas, lips twitching in what Dean would almost be prepared to swear was a hint of a smile.
“Right then, let’s go. Off to see the Wizard.”
“I don’t understand that reference.”
“Just make with the flying.”
*****
Gilford was just as unremarkable as Dean had envisaged, but he had to admit it was pretty, in a boring sort of way. The snow was clinging gamely to the trees, and the views down across to the lake were really quite stunning, especially as Cas had managed to land them on top of a seemingly uninhabited hill.
Dean raised his eyebrows when he saw their location. “Your sense of direction astounds me.”
Cas looked around in confusion. “We should not be here,” he said, sounding perplexed. “This is not where I intended to land.”
“Told you we should have driven, Sammy,” said Dean cheerfully, cuffing Sam round the shoulder, who, unprepared, bumped into a tree and got a hairful of snow. “Ha!” laughed Dean, “still like the snow?”
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam turned to Cas, who was still looking around with a furrowed brow, seemingly unable to comprehend how he was standing on top of a snowy mountain. “Any idea why we ended up here, Cas?”
“I...I think there may be some sort of interference in the atmosphere which affected me. It must be the demon who has the amulet casting some sort of aura to prevent our arrival.”
“Well, try again, then, Cas. Glorious as this hulk of a mountain is, I ain’t Mohammed and I ain’t going to the mountain unless there’s something on it for me. Like a beer.” Dean waved his arms at Cas, “C’mon.”
“You...would like a beer? Now?” Castiel queried, looking between the two brothers with a quizzical expression.
“Yes!” exclaimed Dean, “That’s more like it. Use that angel mojo for something useful.”
“No, Cas,” said Sam, still brushing wet snowflakes from his hair, which had become rather soggy and was dripping into his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we want beer on the mountain. We want to be off the mountain.”
“Well, yes,” nodded Castiel. “I do not wish to be here either. If you will allow me--” He reached forward, fingers outstretched again, ignoring Dean’s continued grumbling. It wasn’t Dean’s fault if he didn’t want to teleport around more than once in a single day. If the angel couldn’t manage to do it right the first time, he probably shouldn’t have bothered. Driving didn’t have these problems. Although, Dean had to admit, as the world blinked out of vision, Cas’ confused expression when they landed in the snow had been quite endearing. Took the stick out of his ass for a moment. Made that warm feeling appear in his stomach again. That one that, yes, he was still very definitely ignoring. Hunters like him didn’t go around getting feelings for angels. Nope. No way.
Dean had never yet managed to work up the courage to open his eyes during one of Cas’ voyages. He wasn’t sure if it was like looking at the true form of an angel: would his eyes burn out by seeing angelic travelling? He wondered if Cas’ wings were visible when he made these trips. He’d seen their shadow, nothing more, and they were impressive. Impressive in a way that made Dean want to see them again. One day, he promised himself, he’d ask Cas about them, maybe ask to see them. When he finally felt solid ground beneath his feet and could open his eyes again, the first thing that assaulted his senses was the noise - a gentle very familiar sounding hubbub, swiftly followed by a very familiar smell.
“Cas!” he exclaimed happily. “You brought us to a bar after all!” Maybe Castiel cared after all. He stepped up to the bar, signalling for a beer. Cas had the perplexed expression on his face again.
“This is not right either.”
Dean was just about to wrap his hand around the cool bottle that had appeared in front of him - it had been days since he had a good cold beer in a bar - when he felt the touch of fingers on his forehead and the now familiar tightening of the atmosphere around him. “No, Cas, nononono,” he began, flailing ineffectively. Clearly not with the caring then.
They popped up again in typically damp, decrepit looking alley way, and Dean, who had been caught off balance when Cas initiated movement again, fell instantly to the ground.
“I hate you,” he glared, petulantly. “You don’t give a man a beer and then snatch it from him. Stop grinning, Sammy. Stop it.”
“You’ll live,” Sam replied, holding out a hand to help his brother up, who stretched and brushed hopelessly at his behind.
“Doesn’t mean I’ll be happy.” He brushed at himself unhappily again. “I’m all wet and I’ve got no beer. This is not a good trip.”
“This is the location,” chimed in Cas. “Over there. It is heavily shielded. I fear I cannot enter.”
“Well, there’s a surprise. Stop it--” Dean shook off Sam’s hand, which had moved to brush some wet leaves off his shoulder. “Are you angels useful for anything? Seems to me like you’re always getting us ‘mudmonkeys’ to do your jobs for you.”
Cas shifted uncomfortably. “Uriel’s opinions are his own. We do not always see eye to eye on our ideas of humanity.”
“Oh, you have ideas about humanity?”
“Dean,” Sam interjected, again. “Not the time. You can argue with Castiel another time, if you must. Let’s get this done, shall we?”
“Fine. What exactly are we doing?” They both turned to look at Castiel, questioning, but before Castiel could answer, there was a rush of cold air through the alley. Castiel swirled round, instantly on the defensive, and Dean did the same, positioning himself slightly in front of Sam. Old habits died hard, after all. Dean could see the glint of angel blade poking from the bottom of Castiel’s sleeve, which reassured him slightly. Castiel was a warrior, he reminded himself. He could fight, for all his portrayed innocence.
There was a man standing at the entrance to the alley way, holding himself tall, stiffly. He was silhouetted against the lowering sun, and Dean squinted trying to get a better glimpse of the man - demon - innocent bystander?
“Aariel?” said Cas quietly.
The figure nodded, and Castiel relaxed. It wasn’t much of a relaxation, but there was a visible difference in his stance. He seemed less threatening, less powerful.
“Aariel, why are you here?” His voice wasn’t angry, merely weary, weathered with sighs.
“I could not--” Aariel’s vessel was young, but dressed in the familiar black suit that Dean had come to associate with all of the angels, minus Castiel and Anna. Black suit clearly equalled dick angel, and from Aariel’s initial demeanour, Dean didn’t see much reason to change his opinion here.
“Wait, Aariel?” Dean pushed forward past Castiel, staring incredulously at the man in front of them. “The one who lost the amulet in the first place? He’s right - why are you here?”
Aariel blinked slowly at Dean. “These humans,” he said, addressing Castiel, “are here to help?”
Castiel nodded. “Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam. It is impossible for us to enter the location of the amulet. Sam and Dean will aid us in this.”
Aariel looked back at Dean. “The Righteous Man, and his tainted-blood brother.”
“Hey!” Dean shouted, surging forward even as Sam grabbed his arm to stop him. Definitely a dick angel. “You don’t get to talk about my family like that. From what I understand, this mess wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.” Sam kept his grip on Dean, wisely, as Dean wasn’t always the wisest when it came to attacking creatures that were more powerful than himself.
“I have admitted my guilt and atoned for my actions,” Aariel replied calmly, approaching the small group. “Have you?”
“That’s -- lemme go, Sam! Let me go!” Dean advanced forward, but even as he writhed against Sam’s grip on his arm, he relaxed slightly, although he remained on the offensive, glaring daggers at Aariel.
“Aariel,” said Cas sharply. “That is enough. Sam and Dean are helping us. I still do not understand why you are here. I was not informed that you would be attending.”
Aariel backed away from Dean, although Dean could swear that the shadows in the alley bristled. Dean didn’t understand Aariel’s reaction; Uriel had been indifferent, and rude, but this seemed like the angel hated him personally. Which was odd, because Dean had never met this Aariel before. Hadn’t heard of him before today.
“As I began to say,” Aariel replied, “bearing responsibility as I do, I could not fail to be here. The loss was my fault.”
“Aariel,” began Castiel wearily. “We have been through this for centuries, do not resurrect this now. You could have done nothing to prevent it. The demon who took this from you was powerful, and his focus on his mission great. You have nothing to feel guilt for.”
“Yet I do, and I do still. You have searching for this for me for years, Castiel, let me be part of the conclusion.” The angel staredhard at Castiel, and the two angels merely looked at each other in silence for what seemed far too long. It was almost like they were conversing in some secret language, and Dean wasn’t entirely down with that. This angel, there was something there, something between him and Castiel, and Dean really, well, he didn’t like that. It made his heart clench. It made him suspicious. And he didn’t like the way Aariel was looking at Castiel right now. Or the way Castiel was looking back, with that intensity. Dean was, he decided, far too used to that look being directly solely at him. And he’d rather like it to stay that way.
Castiel hesitated, looking between Dean and Aariel. “You will stay with me,” he decided.
“This is acceptable,” nodded Aariel, and Dean could have sworn that he smirked at him. He couldn’t have done though - that didn’t fit with any angel behaviour that Dean had experienced thus far, not that he would go so far as to call himself an expert.
“Wait,” said Sam, cutting in, “we still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, or what we’re doing. What’s in there - you said a demon took it? What demon?”
“He gave no name,” said Aariel ruefully. “He smelled heavily of sulfur, and he blinked with yellow eyes.”
Sam and Dean shared a look, the kind of look that most people could probably manage to interpret as ‘oh shit’ mixed with a suitable degree of ‘oh, well, that’s alright then.”
“Can’t be him here now, you must know that, right? He’s dead. Killed him, the bastard,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel. “He’s dead, right? I killed him.”
“To my knowledge, Azazel has not returned. I believe that the amulet has been passed to another, although I cannot be sure: the demons have had possession of it for the past millennium. And now Lilith wants it, so it is even more imperative that we retrieve it.”
Dean nodded, the tight feeling that had settled in his stomach dissipating slightly. “So, what’s the plan?”
“You will enter the building and retrieve the amulet,” Castiel said blinking blankly.
“Simple as that, huh? Why didn’t you say so? We’ll just walk in and grab it, shall we?” Dean raised his eyebrows at Castiel.
“That would seem to be the idea.” Aarie broke in, his tone withering. Dean turned and narrowed his eyes at the angel. He really didn’t like this one, more so than other angels he’d met. There was something else off, something…additional. Witheringly?
Dean sighed, pushing all of that down, and closed his eyes, ignoring Aariel. “He’s not going,” he said, when he opened them again, pointing at Sam.
“Dean!”
“No arguments, Sam. He’s not going, Cas.”
“Dean, you’re not going in there by yourself--” Sam protested.
“And you’re not going in there at all, Sammy. If there’s even a chance that Yellow Eyes has something to do with this, I’m not putting you within range of it.”
“I can make my own decisions, Dean.” Sam flared his nostrils, trying to stare his brother down.
“And I’m making this one for you. No, you’re not going.” Dean added, in his tone that was meant to say ‘no more arguments, Sam, this is what I say and this is what goes.’ Typically, Sam ignored it.
“That’s over, Dean. We killed him and my visions stopped.”
“I’m not risking it, Sammy. It’s all too much of a coincidence: this amulet turns up near where we are, turns out Yellow Eyes is involved, the angels can’t go in -- no, Sam, the answer is no.”
“Your brother speaks some sense,” said Aariel.
“You what?” Dean snapped, rounding on Aariel again, eyes hard.
“It may be better for him to go in alone, to enable him to more successfully avoid detection. It may be easier for him to retrieve the amulet this way.” Aariel
“Excuse me?” exclaimed Sam. “C’mon, Cas, you can’t agree with this?”
“There...is...a certain risk with you, Sam Winchester, that I had failed to consider--” Cas muttered, shamefaced.
Sam huffed loudly and threw his arms out. “Oh, you cannot be serious. I’m fine. There is nothing wrong with me.”
Dean couldn’t contain the slight breath that escaped from him then, and Sam whirled round to glare at him. “What’s that meant to mean, Dean?”
“You know what it means. You’re not exactly normal, Sammy.”
“I’m not doing that anymore, Dean, I told you.” Sam gestured vaguely towards his head, wiggling his fingers. “That’s all over.”
“Sam,” broke in Castiel, “I do, on this occasion, think your brother and Aariel are correct. The circumstances do seem to suggest that it would be unwise to send you in. I should have thought of this, I apologise. Dean,” Castiel continued, “I am sorry for bringing your brother here.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean muttered. “Just, stick with him, and don’t let him follow me.”
“I’m not some animal to be ordered around, Dean!” burst out Sam angrily.
“This isn’t an argument anymore, Sam! It’s not safe for you--”
“And it is for you?”
“Safer than it is for you!”
Castiel looked between the two brothers warily. “Are they always like this?” asked Aariel, peering at them curiously as they continued to bicker, oblivious to their audience.
“Often,” nodded Castiel. “It can be quite interesting to observe as a point of human interaction.”
“I think I prefer our brotherly affections,” decided Aariel, edging closer to Castiel. “Do you remember when--”
“Stop, Aariel.” Cas said quietly, not taking his eyes off the argument still occurring in front of him.
“You used to welcome this,” said the younger angel, pushing an otherworldly wing against Castiel’s. “What happened to change how you feel?”
“This is neither the time nor the place, Aariel. You know I care for you and love you as my brother. Accept that for what it is and nothing more. What there was between us once is no longer.” Cas replied calmly?
“Because of him, because of that human,” Aariel hissed. “He is nothing, Castiel, and you have known him for no time--”
“Enough, Aariel,” glared Castiel, placing a distance between their vessels. “Enough, or you can return to heaven immediately.”
“You will not find what you seek with him,” Aariel continued, despite himself. “He will only lead you to ruin. He is a human; interesting as they are, they are points of interest only, to be observed and studied. You taught me this, Castiel, do you now forget your own teachings?”
“Enough,” growled Cas, harsh enough that Dean and Sam paused in their argument and turned to stare at the two angels. “Aariel was just leaving. Dean, you should go. Do you have the knife?”
Dean nodded mutely, as Aariel glared at Cas, before blinking out of this world with a gust and a flutter of wings. “What got into his feathers?” he asked.
“It is none of your concern. You should concentrate on returning safely, with the amulet.”
“Right,” agreed Dean with a pointed look in Sam’s direction, who glared down at the ground instead. “What am I looking for?”
“A small pendant, on a golden chain. It is, if I remember correctly, made of a purple stone, amethyst maybe.” Cas’ full attention was on Dean again, now Aariel was gone. If Dean wasn’t too busy worrying about Sam and everything involved in that, which, really, was a shitpile of mess right now, he could have sworn that a smile, some emotion, a hint of…concern flitted across Castiel’s face, but it was gone before he could properly register it. It was probably nothing in any case. Probably meant nothing. Castiel was probably still thinking of Aariel. It couldn’t mean anything and besides. Totally not thinking about that.
“Good good. I’ll be off then. Stupidly dangerous annoying mission to get a pretty necklace. Wonderful.” He patted his waist, checking the position of the knife and his other weapons, before walking away down the alley. Just before the end he turned. “Stay here with Cas, Sam. I’ll be back soon.”
“Your brother is a determined individual,” ventured Cas after a few moments of silence. He was unsure of what to say around this tainted one; he could sense the blood upon him, but he was Dean’s brother, which seemed to count for many more things than Cas could understand. He loved and admired all his brothers equally, but he could not imagine one of them being quite so concerned for him? Zachariah certainly would not do that for Castiel, nor would Uriel. He could envisage none of his brothers acting as Dean did towards Sam. Aariel had been different, once, one he had felt a connection deeper than any other of his kin, and this, this...had changed them.
~~~~~
462AD, Ephesus.
“The time has come.”
Zachariah lifted one of his heads - not the lion, which steadfastly ignored Castiel’s comment and merely went on dozing. “You will finally stop going on about it, then.”
“We left Aariel there. Cut off from us all, can you even begin to imagine, Zacha--”
“I can imagine perfectly well, Castiel,” Zachariah sniffed dismissively. The lion yawned. “But he is not dead, so there is no need for any worry. More important is finding out what has happened to the amulet.”
“Which we could have done, by going down there and rescuing Aariel.”
“You know perfectly well we could not do that, Castiel,” he snapped. “Those were not your orders and they were not mine. You know we had to wait and let this run its course.”
“He has been alone,” Castiel stated vehemently. “I intend to see him home safely. Brother, I wish to be charged with the completion of this mission. Do not deny me this.”
Zachariah’s four sets of shoulders shrugged altogether, and the lion snuffled sleepily, before blinking eerily at Castiel. Castiel stared back at the lion, puffing his slightly more diminutive form up as much as he could. “Fine,” said Zachariah, and Castiel relaxed. “You can go. But remember your primary mission, Castiel - see that the miracle is successful, and locate the amulet. Your...student is a secondary concern.”
Castiel’s wings bristled, but he remained silent. Nothing good ever came out of arguing with Zachariah, and he had got what he wanted.
~~
Castiel floated easily down to Earth, pleased he didn’t have to go through the hassle of seeking and persuading a vessel to contain him in this instance. He just needed to observe.
And find Aariel.
The cave was already open, the miracle a success, but of more concern was the dazed and confused expression on the face of the leader of the men. Castiel sent out a tendril of Grace, carefully, and the man’s face relaxed instantly. Castiel nudged the Grace again, felt the answering call as Aariel finally surged free of his earthly vessel and began his journey heavenwards again. Castiel hardly noticed the body fall to the ground as they left, or the gasps of the crowd around them.
Aariel was quiet, Castiel noticed, on the journey back. He had never been loud, but this was a different sort of quiet. Maybe, Castiel imagined, he was overwhelmed by listening to all of the voices again. He hardly heard them anymore, except when he listened, but to Aariel, who had been lost in silence for two centuries...Or perhaps he had simply grown out of the habit of talking. “Brother,” Castiel tried, not quite knowing what to say.
Aariel turned his form back to Castiel, hunched and contained. Castiel sighed. Aariel was hurting. “Brother,” he tried again, “this was not your fault.”
“I let him trick me,” Aariel whispered. “He took the amulet. I should have fought him, I should have sensed his presence.”
“You were not to know, brother! From what you have just told me of this demon, he is cunning and ruthless, like all his kind. You have not encountered his like before, brother, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“He should have killed me, yet he let me live. He knew this shame would be worse punishment, Castiel.”
Castiel sighed, and he brushed a wing softly against Aariel’s. “You will be forgiven, Aariel. The miracle was a success; it was everything our Father wished it to be.”
“I lost the amulet, brother! That amulet, and all its power now lies in the hands of a demon because of me. I should be cast out for my shame.”
“No!” Castiel’s wing grip tightened. “You do not deserve that, Aariel. You could not have prevented this. You did all you could.”
Aariel only answered him with silence.
“I missed your presence, brother,” Castiel ventured. “I missed hearing your voice amongst the chorus. I am glad to have you back.”
“You did not come before.”
“I could not! It was forbidden, brother. I argued with Zachariah over and over again, but he would not let me leave.”
“You could have--”
“You know I could not! Zachariah receives his orders from our Father, Aariel, and I trust in Him. I wanted nothing more than to know you were safe, but I could not.”
Their angelic forms were close, distances not being the same in heavenly circles, but Castiel could feel the space between them as if it were a chasm.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, as softly as he could, stretching his wing beside Aariel’s again. “I am truly sorry you were left there, but my duty is to my Father first and foremost. My love for you remains, Aariel, but I could not disobey our Father’s orders.”
Aariel’s wing did not remain beside his, and Castiel sighed. Maybe with time, Aariel would understand. “We will find the amulet, Aariel. We will reclaim it for Heaven.”
“You can’t be sure of that. It’s been centuries, Castiel, and you have heard nothing of it. Why should it be any different now.”
“We will find it, Aariel.”
“You do not know when. You cannot say why this demon took it from me, and has then not used it for centuries. He must know of its power, but you tell me there has been no indication that it has been used, or even spoken of. You cannot say anything with any certainty, Castiel, none of us can.”
“We will look for it until we find it. I will look for it, brother, until I find it.” Castiel longed to wrap his wing around Aariel’s form, but hesitated, the earlier reaction informing his actions. Aariel felt disconsolate, he felt lost, and Castiel didn’t know what to say or do to relieve that feeling. “We will find it,” he repeated hopelessly.
~~~~~
Part 2