Heaven & Hell: The Barn
Castiel is not stalling, no matter what Uriel (who is grumbling less than quietly behind him) might believe. He is merely assessing the situation. Stalling will only prolong the sense of discomfort that this whole situation has elicited
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Well, really.
Who else were they gonna send?
Anna looks at both her brothers for a moment and then turns her attention back fully to Castiel.
"I like the vessel. It's a good look for you.
"The Man in the Coat."
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Castiel has little time for it, particularly at a time such as this. But it seems as if some acknowledgment is called for.
"I am sorry."
He even means it, in part. Or rather, in many parts.
Sorry that she has to die. Sorry that he has to be the one to do it. Sorry that she Fell in the first place. Sorry that she has managed to bind Dean, who has already sustained enough damage, up in her death.
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"No, you're not," she says, calmly.
"Not really.
"You can't be. You don't really know the feeling."
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It makes it easier in a way.
He could refute her, but what would be the point? Even if he had the luxury of time to belabor the point, Castiel would have no desire to do so before an audience.
"Still," he says, "we have a history."
Not always a good one, but a history.
She could at least grant him that. That this is not an easy task God set before him.
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One that cross millenia and worlds, to the end of the universe and back.
"But orders are orders.
"I know.
"Just make it quick."
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Sam clenches his hands at his sides and prepares to try to do something, he's not sure what, when from behind them he hears a chillingly pleasant order.
"Don't you touch a hair on that girl's head."
He spins around to see Alistair standing there, smiling at Castiel and Uriel. Two steps behind him, Ruby hangs limply between a couple of demon thugs, in bad shape, especially if the thick blood all over her shirt is any hint at what lies beneath it.
His gaze meets hers for an instant before they discard her on the ground to one side. Ruby claws her way into shelter among the hay bales stacked there, and Sam swallows hard against a surge of relief and turns back to the others.
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Alastair. Of all the demons.
Alastair cannot take Anna alive.
"Leave, now. Or we lay you to waste."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the demons choose to take their chances with Option 2.
Alastair is not as strong as Lilith, but he's strong enough. While Uriel dispatches the demon's underlings, Castiel, in due course, finds himself down, with Alastair preparing to rip his essence from his vessel.
Strand by strand.
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But seeing him --
Seeing him's like a hot poker to the gut each and every time.
God, but he wants to hurt that motherfucker.
This may go a long way to explain why, when his own personal demon's got his own personal angel down for the count, Dean wallops the fucker over the head with a crowbar.
Not like it's gonna do anything, but in the absence of any better tools --
Damn but it feels good. Almost like old times.
Except for how hard he's wishing it didn't.
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But then, it's not like Anna didn't have centuries upon centuries to study the moves her brother makes in a fight. She used to be the one telling him to make them, after all.
She knows to watch for the moment that Uriel's attention is elsewhere, distracted by the demons he's fighting, knows how long she'll have, knows exactly when to sweep in and pull the vial that contains her Grace from the chain around his neck.
Two choices. Go back or die.
And she's no good to anyone dead.
Easy enough, then. Make the choice, break the vial.
Good-bye, Anna Milton.
"Shut your eyes!"
And let there be light.
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