Big Bang: Where We're Heading To: Interlude on Earth
Interlude on Earth
Castiel was having no luck whatsoever.
He had found neither hide nor hair of Dean Winchester, even though he had looked everywhere he could think. Castiel had even tried calling him, but all he got, after punching the digits into his cell phone, was, "Hey, you've reached Dean Winchester. Leave a message and I'll try to get back to you as quick as I can." He hadn't bothered leaving any message. If Dean wasn't going to pick up, why would he listen to what Castiel had to say?
The angel had no idea what to do now. Dean could literally be anywhere in the country. (He wouldn't have left the country; he didn't have a real passport, and he wouldn't want to take that kind of risk.) Castiel obviously could not use his powers to locate Dean's soul. It was unfortunate that the Apocalypse had caused such an inconvenience.
Castiel could not understand how humans found anyone. Somehow, without the benefit of instantaneous flight, they still managed to track down a portion of the many people who went missing. Perhaps he should ask a human how they did it.
Just like that, it occurred to Castiel how he could find Dean. It would be so easy, he was sure. So he pulled his cell phone back out and tapped in a totally different set of numbers, those that would allow him to connect with the telephone at Singer's Salvage Yard.
It rang a few times before Castiel heard the telltale click that meant it had been answered.
"Hello?" a voice asked, and Castiel frowned, because it was not Bobby's voice. "Is anyone there?" it continued, that voice that spoke in an English accent. Crowley.
"Where's Bobby?" Castiel demanded. He was not particularly in the mood to deal with a demon, even if he was supposedly on their side.
"Castiel?" Crowely asked, ignoring the question for a moment. "What's an angel like you calling for?"
"I need to speak to Bobby," Cas ground out.
"What for?"
Now he was just being difficult, Castiel decided. He answered anyway. Maybe then Crowley would pass over the phone sooner. "I can't find Dean."
"Really?" Crowley sounded pretty surprised. "You lost track of little lover boy? I thought you were good at dealing with Winchesters."
Castiel had a hard time keeping himself from growling at the errant demon. "I was trapped for some time, and I don't know where he went."
"Why don't you just call him? I'm sure he'd be willing to go for whatever you have planned," the demon said suggestively.
"He is mad at me," Castiel admitted. He feared he would get no help from Crowley unless he knew this.
"Oh, what'd you do? Spit in his pie?"
Sighing, Cas said, "I neglected to mention his brother's escape from Hell."
On the other end of the line, Castiel could hear a sharp intake of breath. "Bloody Hell. Why'd you do that for?"
"I did not want him to know that Sam is currently the demon Samael."
Another intake of breath. "That's him? He's quickly becoming a major player. I hear he wants to bring Azazel back from the dead, the crazy bastard."
"A Prophet says that he needs an angel sacrifice to do so."
If Castiel could have seen Crowley's face, he might have seen the demon's eyes widen comically. "Then you and lover boy are royally fucked," he breathed into the phone.
Castiel narrowed his eyes, even though he knew that Crowley couldn't see. It was mostly instinct, anyway. "Why do you say that?"
"Because he actually can bring him back, and he needs you and Dean to do it," Crowley explains. "See, not many demonic rituals call for bucket loads of angel blood, but there is one, which can recreate a demon that has been destroyed."
"But why is Dean necessary for this ritual?" Castiel asked impatiently.
"Hold your horses. I'm getting there," Crowley admonished. After a moment, he continued. "The ritual combines an angel's Grace with the blood of the angel and the soul of the being who killed the demon. Which, in this case, is-"
"Dean," Castiel breathed.
"Got it in one," Crowley said. "I take it you understand the scale of the problem now?"
"Yes, I do," Castiel grumbled. This was. . . bad, to say the least. "But Dean wouldn't allow himself to be captured. We shouldn't worry." It sounded a bit too uncertain for his taste, but it was the best he could at the moment.
It sounded like Crowley shifted uncomfortably. "Normally, that would be true." Castiel didn't interrupt, just waited for the inevitable, "But you said that it was Sam who is performing the ritual. Did you tell Dean about him?"
"Dean now knows that Sam is no longer in Hell," Castiel said slowly. He thought that maybe he knew what Crowley was getting at. "However, I was not able to tell him about my suspicions regarding the connection between Sam and Samael."
"So Dean has no reason whatsoever to doubt his brother's intentions, should he meet him," Crowley confirmed.
Castiel could only sigh. Perhaps he should have told Dean about Sam as soon as he had found out. Then this mess wouldn't be happening, he thought ruefully. But the Prophet had spoken of a happy ending, so maybe this all had to happen this way. He wished desperately that this wasn't true.
"Luckily for you," Crowley said, breaking the silence, "I know where this ritual needs to take place."
Despite his first inclination to mistrust everything the demon said or did, Castiel couldn't help the surge of hope that this one statement provided. "Where?" he demanded, ready to fly off at a moment's notice.
"It was once the site of a devil's gate, but it has been long since sealed shut. Now it is a warehouse in Leadville, Colorado," Crowley said, and rattled off the street address.
"Thank you," Castiel said, and he would have hung up the phone, but he was stuck with a sudden curiosity. "Crowley, where is Bobby?"
The businesslike tone that the demon had been using dropped instantly. "He's sleeping, currently," he said softly. If Castiel was going to be honest, he might have said that Crowley was speaking gently, maybe even fondly.
"Tell him about this when he awakens," Castiel advised.
"Of course." The business voice was back. "Good luck, angel."
Castiel contemplated responding, but he heard the click that meant that Crowley had hung up. That was just as well, because Cas had no idea what he might have said.
Still, Castiel had a goal now. He had to save Dean's soul again, and he had the feeling that he had to do it soon. So he did the best thing he could think of: he flew off to the address that Crowley had provided. Previous~ Next