Big Bang: Where We're Heading To: Part Two
"Feet off the table," Lisa ordered, and Dean grudgingly obliged. It was her house, so he might as well try to live by her rules. But only when she asked.
She smiled at him and proffered a phone. "Bobby for you."
"Thanks," Dean mumbled and grabbed the phone from her. "Hello?" he asked the little piece of electronics expectantly.
"Get your ass over here, you idjit!" Bobby's tinny voice shouted back at him. A dog barked in the background, and Dean might have imagined someone saying something along the lines of, "Oh, bad puppy!"
Dean sat up straighter on the couch. "Bobby? Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not okay!" The eye roll could be heard clearly. Bobby let out a sigh, and his next words are softer. "I've got Meg tied up, and I think you might want to hear what she's been saying."
"Meg?" Dean scoffed. "Why should we believe anything she says?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end before the older hunter answered, "Dean, if she's telling the truth, then this is big. Real big."
"Why? What's happening?"
"Sorry, Dean. You're going to have to hear it for yourself."
Dean frowned. This almost had "trap" written all over it, but. . . Well, Cas hadn't been by in a few weeks, and he was getting a little antsy. (Not that he was willing to admit that to Lisa, who just loved that he was sticking around for Ben.) So Dean made a decision that he might later regret.
"Okay, I'll be over as soon as I can," he told Bobby. Something was bothering him, though, and he couldn't help asking, "What dog is that?"
"Rumsfeld," Bobby said simply.
Dean frowned. "Isn't he dead?" In fact, he could have sworn that Meg had killed him.
"Yeah," Bobby answered and hung up the phone.
It was Lisa's turn to frown, though Dean supposed that she was probably frowning for the entire conversation. "Where're you going?" she asked, like she did every time Cas took him hunting. The unspoken, "When will you be back?" was just as loud as it always was, too.
"Bobby's got a spot of trouble at his place. I'm going to run down there and be back as soon as we're done," Dean answered smoothly, gathering himself up from the couch. He was sorely tempted to crack his back, but Lisa thought that it was totally disgusting. (This only made him want to do it more.)
"What kind of trouble?" Sometimes Lisa was too nosy for her own good.
Dean fidgeted for a moment before he decided he might as well tell the truth. He still wasn't quite used to doing that with people outside his family, but he was slowly getting over it. "Demons. Or, I guess, one demon."
"Oh," she sighed. "Well, Ben gets home in an hour, if you want to wait and say goodbye?"
Glancing at the clock, Dean shook his head. "I should get going as soon right away. Demons are a lot of trouble for one guy."
"Yeah, I guess."
"I'll see you when I get back," Dean said. He took off out the door before Lisa even had a chance to respond.
When he reached the Singer Salvage Yard, Dean was surprised by how quiet it was. No barking, no shouting, and absolutely nothing being destroyed. Maybe Bobby had gotten fed up and just killed the bitch himself. But no, as Dean parked, and the Impala's purr faded to silence, he could hear a dull thumping sound. (Which, honestly, sounded like a kid kicking the back of a theater seat.)
He approached the house cautiously, the idea that this might be a trap prickling at the back of his mind. He still sort of doubted it, but there was no such thing as "too paranoid" in this job, and he check the Knife just to be sure. Yep, right where it belonged.
Dean was about to knock on the door, his other hand curled around the Knife's hilt, but it swung open before he had the chance. Bobby stood there, wearing the expression that meant that he was far too tired of this shit.
"Thank God you're here, boy," Bobby grumbled, herding Dean inside. "I've been regretting this more and more each second I have to spend with her. Now we can finally get this over with."
To be honest, Dean was a little confused about what "this" was about to entail, but whatever. He trusted Bobby enough that it wasn't going to be something idiotic, like talking to Meg and expecting to get an honest answer. Sadly, he realized when Bobby pushed the dog away from the door it was attacking long enough to let them into the room, "this" was exactly that. (He very pointedly did not mention the dog.)
They stood rather lamely before the devil's trap, where Meg's current vessel was tied down to a chair. She grinned when she saw Dean, who just scowled in response.
"How come you haven't called? I thought we were something special!" she mocked, laughing at Dean's disconcerted expression.
"Shut your trap, bitch," was all the answer Dean gave her.
Meg considered her bonds idly. "But, gee, I thought I was here to tell you something." She shrugged in her best imitation of innocence, which was clearly far from reality.
Dean sighed. "And just what are you going to tell me?"
"My Daddy's coming back, of course."
Arching an eyebrow, Dean considered her carefully. "Lucifer? He's trapped in a hole."
The bark of laughter caught him by surprise. "Of course not, silly!" Meg proclaimed, "My real Daddy."
"What do you mean?"
"Lucifer is my Father, like God is yours," she answered, leaving a bit of sarcasm on "God." She smiled, and continued, "You killed my Daddy, you know."
Suddenly Dean understood. "Azazel," he accused, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh, a sharp one, you are!" Meg laughed. "Yup, old Yellow Eyes is soon to curse the Earth with his presence again!" She squirmed in her chair, excitement oozing out of her every pore.
"Why are you telling us this?"
Meg smirked. "Because there's nothing you can do to stop it. And besides, it is always fun to watch you guys squirm."
"They also said that I couldn't stop the Apocalypse," Dean pointed out. "What's to stop me this time?"
"You didn't stop the Apocalypse," Meg laughed. "Sam did. And you don't have him by your side nowadays."
"I do have an angel," he offered.
"But are you sure you can trust him?" the demon asked slyly. "He is just a dick with wings after all."
"Cas is a friend. He's not going to hurt me."
"How can you have so much faith in something that isn't even human? I know how much that matters to you."
"Be quiet," Dean growled. After a moment -- in which the demon actually did as he said -- he continued, "Are you going to tell us anything more about this plan of yours?"
Meg contemplated her answer. "No, I don't think I will," she grinned.
The answering grin that she received from Dean should have worried her. "Then it won't matter if I do this," Dean said, and he plunged Ruby's demon-killing knife right into Meg's stomach.
A familiar flare of red orange light flashed under Meg's skin, burning the demon out of existence. Dean pulled the Knife back out of her flesh, wiping the blood off on his jeans. "I've been wanting to do that for years."
"Well, goodie for you," Bobby drawled, his eyes latched onto the dead human form in his living room. Dean followed his eyes and winced.
"Sorry about that. I'm just going to…" Dean trailed off.
Bobby scowled and whacked Dean in the shoulder. "Run off to your angel and get him to help you with this," he said, glaring. "I ain't touching this one with a five meter pole."
"Aw, come on, Bobby. I could really use your help," Dean said, putting on his best imitation of Sam's trusty puppy dog face. It wouldn't have won any prizes.
And it certainly did not win Bobby over. "I like my legs where they are, boy, and all my other body parts, too. " Bobby scowled some more. "Hunting some demon with you ain't going to help them any."
Dean had no choice but to accept this sad twist of fate. "Fine. I'm going to have to give Cas a call, then." He briefly remembered the angel's strange disappearance the last time they'd spoken, but he hoped that it had been nothing important. Cas was his last hope here.
It was dark by the time Dean arrived back at Lisa's house. Lisa was still up, but Ben was definitely asleep in his bed. Dean didn't particularly want to bother either of them, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be seeing them for quite a while after he left.
"Lisa, I've got to go," he told her, and she seemed oddly understanding.
"This is about Castiel, right?"
"What?" Dean wasn't sure how she had reached that conclusion at all. "This is about the demon, at Bobby's?"
"Oh, of course," Lisa smiled apologetically. This begged for further investigation, but Dean was focused for the moment.
"Can I wake Ben up to say goodbye?" he asked, figuring it was worth a shot, even though it was a week night.
Lisa just smiled some more and agreed willingly. So Dean went off into Ben's bedroom to say his farewells.
While he was gone, Lisa was surprised by the sudden appearance of a familiar angel. And, familiar though he was, Lisa was not used to having a whole person appear out of thin air. She jumped and earned a confused stare from Castiel.
Honestly, his confusion was not for Lisa. He knew her well enough, and he did not begrudge her the automatic reaction that she had not yet learned to suppress. It had taken Dean a while, after all. No, he was confused about the time. He knew that this was not when he had last left Earth, but quite a bit later. He wasn't sure how so much time had passed during a simple conversation in Heaven.
It was irrelevant, of course, and Castiel was reminded of this when Dean came back into the living room.
"Cas?" he asked, his gaze immediately drawn to the angelic presence. It always was, after all.
"Where are you going?" Castiel asked right back, since it was clear that Dean was intending to leave soon.
"Some demon's causing trouble," Dean said. It wasn't exactly an answer, but Castiel understood. It meant that he was going back on the road, with no real destination in sight. Just following leads wherever they took him. Castiel remembered what it was like, when he was searching for God.
Something else bothered Castiel about that answer, and it didn't take him long to figure it out. Because he had just heard about someone else causing trouble, and what exactly were the chances that both Sam Winchester and a new demon escaped the confines of Hell right around the same time? Answer: improbably low. That's not to say that it was impossible, since it seemed that very little was impossible when the Winchesters were involved. But sometimes a white horse was a white horse, and Castiel made a rash decision. One that would not make Dean very happy if he knew about it.
Castiel was not going to tell Dean about Sam.
Instead, he asked, "Would you like my help?"
Dean grinned. "I was kind of banking on it. Bobby's steering clear of this case, and it isn't like I've Sam to fall back on." He was silent for a moment, and Castiel worried that his face was betraying him, but then Dean continued, "So, you're in?"
"Of course," Cas answered, because that was the only answer that the angel could give. Dean needed his help, and he was willing to give it. Besides, he had already thrown his lot in with this human over Heaven, twice now. What more harm would it do to track down a demon that may or may not be in cahoots with Sam, or may even be Sam himself?
"Well, we better hit the road, then."
Castiel would have offered to fly, but he already knew that there was no point. There was nowhere to fly to. So he got into the passenger's seat of Dean's classic car, and Dean drove the Impala off into the night. They didn't stop until Dean couldn't keep his eyes open.
In California, in the middle of December, they finally caught a solid lead. They cornered a demon in a library (it was possessing the librarian) and got it to spit out a name. Samael.
"Samael? Is he an angel?" Dean frowned, thinking. "It sure sounds like an angel name."
Castiel nodded solemnly. "Samael was once an angel, yes."
"How come I've never heard of him?" Dean demanded.
"Perhaps you don't read enough," the angel replied, raising an eyebrow the tiniest bit. "However, he has been locked away for quite a while. In Hell."
"So, what? He's a fallen angel who's coming back to storm Earth with a demon army?" At Castiel's nod, Dean rolled his eyes.
"Sounds like a re-run of Lucifer, if you ask me."
"He and Lucifer are not dissimilar," Cas answered carefully.
"Right. Because Apocalypse two point oh is totally what we need right now."
"I do not think that Samael intends to bring about a second Apocalypse."
"Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?"
"You said that the demon Meg was 'spouting nonsense' about her father returning," Castiel said, barely adjusting his voice to show he was quoting. It was disconcerting, if Dean was going to be honest. "Samael might be attempting to facilitate the revival of Azazel."
"Can they do that? How would they do that?"
"I don't know. I have no idea what happens to demons that are destroyed. As such, I don't know if a demon can come back from the dead."
There was a moment of silence while both angel and hunter thought this through.
It was Dean who broke the silence with an "Aha!" expression on his face. "Chuck would know!"
Castiel agreed. If anyone knew anything, it would be a Prophet.
Dean hurriedly dialed Chuck's number -- and wow, he hoped the guy hadn't moved in the past two years; that would suck -- and waited through a couple rings. Thankfully, it connected and someone answered on the other end.
"Chuck?"
Wait. "Becky?" To say that Dean was surprised would be an understatement. Didn't those two break up, or something?
"Dean?" It sounded like Becky was just as surprised to hear from him.
"No, the tooth fairy." Dean wasn't exactly in the mood to talk with a crazy fangirl. Who liked Sam better. What was wrong with her, anyway? "Where's Chuck?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, before Becky answered, "I haven't seen him since. . ." She trailed off for a second. "Well, it's been almost three years now."
It wasn't Dean's fault that it took a second for his brain to catch up. Chuck and his crazy girlfriend made his head hurt. The implications of Becky's answer reached him, and he had to ask, "Then why are you at his house?"
Becky coughed, and if they had been talking face to face, she probably would have shuffled nervously. That's what it sounded like when she next spoke, "It was empty, and I was falling behind on rent, and. . ."
Dean cut her off. "Okay, never mind." It wasn't that important anyway. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" That was the important thing, finding the wayward Prophet.
A shaky breath echoed on the other end. "I've looked everywhere, and I can't find him. I have the members of morethanbrothers and spn4reals on the case, and no one has seen him."
He wasn't sure what she was talking about, (and he probably didn't want to. What kind of name was "morethanbrothers"? It just sounded like it held creepy incestuous porn.) but it sounded bad. "Well, shit."
"Why?" And damn if she didn't sound excited. It was like doom and gloom were her specialty, so long as she got to help the Winchesters. "What do you need him for?"
"We were hoping he would have some info on a new demon."
"We? You and Sam?" Of course she would want Sam. She was one of those Sam-girls or something. But. . .
"What, you didn't read about the end of the Apocalypse?" He needed to use sarcasm, of course, or else the pain of his loss might overwhelm him.
"The Apocalypse is over?" Becky sounds confused, so she really doesn't know about Sam. Well, Dean wasn't about to tell her. "But we have been seeing demonic signs all over the place!"
It was Dean's turn to question pronoun use now, even though he was pretty sure that he would regret it. "We?"
"Spn4reals." Becky said calmly. "We find proof that the Supernatural books depict real life events." It sounded like a prepared answer, one that she'd probably given many, many times.
"Right." What else could he say to that? "Well it's not the Apocalypse anymore. It's some other demon, Samael."
He got no response for that, though he thought maybe he could hear the quick clacking of keys. "Are you on the computer?" he asked.
"Duh. I'm not at work, so what else would I be doing?"
Dean didn't really have anything to say to that. And it turned out that he didn't need to, since Becky spoke again soon enough.
"I think I know someone you should talk to," she said, quite seriously.
"Really, who?"
"This girl, lastnightonearth." Becky must have realized that Dean wouldn't understand the username, because she quickly corrected herself, "Sarah." That name sounded vaguely familiar to Dean, but that was probably because it was a common name. He'd slept with, like, five Sarah's, he was sure.
"Does she know something about Chuck?"
Becky answered after a moment. She was probably doing something silly like nodding and expecting him to notice. "Nope."
Okay, shaking her head. "But she says she knows about the demon."
Honestly, that just makes Dean doubt this unknown girl even more. "Are you sure she isn't just yanking your chain?" He might not know much about the Internet, but he had heard Sam talk about trolls or something. Sadly, they were the human kind, not the kind that he could kill.
Becky gave an exasperated sigh. "She checks out, don't worry." Her tone practically screamed, "How could you think that I wouldn't have thought of that possibility? Sam wouldn't have underestimated me like that." It made Dean want to echo her sigh.
He didn't though, and waited patiently for her to explain. She did, right away, "She's been writing about the Apocalypse and everything. We never published past you going to Hell, so how could she know about any of the angel stuff?"
Dean was still skeptical. "Didn't Chuck talk about some of the more recent books at the convention?"
"Well, yeah," she dismissed, "but he didn't get into any of the specifics. This girl, she even wrote about me!"
"Well, ain't that special." Dean could be excused for the sarcasm. He really didn't care about what exactly this girl was writing, as long as she could help.
"Trust me, Dean, Sarah is the real deal."
Okay, whatever. Dean could deal with this, really, he could. "So, what, she's some kind of a psychic? Because we have had so much luck with those."
"Dean," Cas said, creeping into the hunter's personal space. He'd been oddly silent the whole conversation, so maybe he had finally begun to understand the concept of privacy. "Ask Becky if the girl's name is Sarah Carter."
"Okay," Dean said, a little confused. To Becky, he asked, "Did you hear that?"
"Was that Castiel? Oh em gee, an angel knows my name!"
"Becky."
"Um, yeah. That's her name," she answered when she'd calmed down a bit. "Why?"
"This girl is the Prophet of the Lord," Castiel replied solemnly.
"Of course she is." Because, really. One Prophet goes missing; of course they find another one. Dean sighed into the phone receiver, "I don't suppose you have an address?"
Becky did. Sarah lived in Butte, Montana, of all places.
"Alright. Cas, get in the car," Dean barked, easily taking control of the situation.
"Why?" Cas asked, tilting his head to consider Dean from a different angle, as though that would make the human into something that he could understand. "I can have us there in a moment." He lifted his hand, two fingers outstretched, to further his point.
Dean shied away from the hand. "We have talked about this. Besides, I'm not leaving my baby here all on her own! I'm not cruel."
Castiel gave a long suffering sigh. "Very well," he conceded.
This Prophet's house was much nicer than Chuck's. If she were inside, typing as Dean and Castiel walked to the door, she most certainly would not describe her abode as "ramshackle". It was an older design, but with a fresh coat of pink paint that made it look like a child's dollhouse. Surprisingly, there was nary a white picket fence to be found, just a short chain-link one.
At the door, Dean had some difficulty locating the doorbell. It was neither to the right nor to the left of the door, and the only other place to look was up. No luck there, either. Fortunately, Dean was saved further frustration when the door swung open on its own.
A slender girl stood in the doorway. She looked up at Dean and Castiel, a grin on her face.
Dean shuffled awkwardly. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with curious siblings, or whoever this was. "Is Sarah here?" he asked.
The girl's grin slipped a little as she answered, "That's me."
"Really?" He couldn't help it. She certainly didn't look like a Prophet. She barely looked like she could drive, honestly. "Sarah Carter?"
"Yes. Prophet of the Lord and all that," she sighed, exasperated. "Are you two going to come in, or what?"
Dean made a face and turned to Castiel. "Well, come on, then," he ordered. The angel complied and followed Dean into the house.
Sarah led the way to her kitchen, a humble little thing with a small table and a large fridge. She gestured to the chairs set around the table, saying, "Sit yourselves down," while she beelined it for the fridge. She grabbed two plates from inside and made her way back to the table.
Dean smiled when he saw what she carried. "Is that apple or peach?" he had to ask.
She set the two plates of pie on the table and smiled back. "One of each," she admitted.
"Nice," Dean said, and reached for one. He glanced over at Castiel, who sat there without moving. "Do you want some?"
Castiel shook his head. "That's quite alright," he said, "I'll leave you to your pastry."
Dean considered the other plate for moment before he pushed it in front of his angel. "Come on. You know you want to."
Frowning, Castiel looked at Dean, and apparently decided that arguing was not worth his time. So he picked up a fork and dug into the pie. If anyone had cared to notice, Dean and Sarah wore very similar gleeful expressions during the whole venture.
Once the fine dining part of the experience was finished, Sarah cleared off the table and Dean grinned at Castiel.
Depositing the dishes on the counter, Sarah abandoned them there and returned to the table. She slid back into her seat and smiled at her guests.
Dean opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider his words. Finally, he said, "You seem to be pretty young for a Prophet."
She raised an eyebrow at that (or tried to, at least). "Since when are you an expert on the ins and outs of Prophethood?"
"Uh…" Dean floundered, muttering something along the lines of, "Yeesh, I was just curious."
"Still," Castiel interjected before Dean could humiliate himself, "seventeen is a younger age than many of the other Prophets."
"How do-" Sarah began, but she shook her head. "Angel of the Lord, right. You could probably tell what I had for breakfast, if you wanted to."
"You have not had breakfast today," Castiel said simply.
Before Cas could confound the girl any further, Dean cut in, saying, "Well, when did you start having visions, anyway?"
"A while after the Supernatural books stopped publishing," she said, thinking. "When you got out of Hell, actually. One night I had a pounding headache, fell asleep, and dreamed of you escaping from a shallow grave."
"That had to be traumatizing."
Sarah laughed. "Are you kidding? It made great fic material."
Dean narrowed his eyes at that. "You're not one of those crazy slash fans, are you? 'Cause Sam and me aren't into any of that incest shit."
"Don't worry," Sarah said, glancing over at Castiel for a moment before focusing on Dean again, "I'm not really into Sam/Dean. I have other pairings."
Though these "other pairings" were worrisome, Dean was content to know that she didn't think he was fucking his brother. Like pretty much every other Supernatural fan he had ever met. (Seriously, what the hell was up with that?)
Sarah looked from Dean to Castiel and cleared her throat loudly. "As much fun as this has been for me," she said, bringing Dean back out of his thoughts. "I am pretty sure you aren't here to hear my life story."
"Right. You told Becky that you knew about the demon," Dean said. He decided to clarify, just for the sake of it, "Samael."
Sarah smiled. "Yeah, I know all about him." She tapped the side of her head, laughing, "I saw him all up here."
"So you will tell us what he plans to do?" Castiel asked, adding, "Besides the obvious."
"You mean you want to know how he intends to bring Azazel back?" the Prophet asked, receiving nods from both of her guests. "I can tell you some," she said carefully.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "But you said you know all about him," he accused.
"I do," she answered, shrugging. "But I can't tell you everything. You need to be kept a little in the dark, alright?"
"No, that's not alright!" Dean protested, and he started to stand up. He was stopped by a hand on his arm. A hand which happened to belong to an angel.
"Dean," he said sternly. "The Prophet has a point. She cannot interfere too much in what must happen."
"What happened to Free Will?" Dean growled. "Isn't that what we were fighting for?"
Castiel sighed. "Occasionally, it is necessary to follow God's Plan."
Dean scowled. "I don't see why. I did things perfectly well on my own before He started interfering with His stupid Gospels."
Sarah chose now to interrupt. "Hey, I can still tell you something, you know. Just, not everything."
Both Dean and Castiel's eyes were drawn back toward the girl sitting across the table from them. Dean was the first to speak, "So, spill, then."
She thought for a moment, probably deciding exactly what information they were allowed to know at the moment. Dean still thought her refusal to share it all was ridiculous, but unless he felt like torturing (which he didn't), he couldn't force the Prophet to do anything.
"Samael needs the blood of an angel," she finally said, after much deliberation.
". . .And?" Dean asked, his eyes focused only on the angel sitting beside him.
"Castiel is the only angel left on Earth," Sarah confirmed, also staring at the current subject of the conversation. "He needs the Grace, as well," she added helpfully.
Dean cleared his throat and placed a hand on Castiel's arm. "You should go back to Heaven. Get off of Earth, you know?"
But Castiel shook his head. "I am not leaving." He frowned. "I am not certain that I could return to Heaven at the moment."
"What?" This caught Dean by surprise. Here he thought Cas was hanging around just for the hell of it. "Aren't you, like, the head honcho or something?"
Sarah frowned. "What, you didn't tell him?"
"I didn't think it was terribly important," Castiel admitted.
"Tell me what?" Dean demanded.
"I was slightly cast out," Cas muttered, pausing to add, "again."
"And you didn't think that was important? What if your mojo crapped out when we needed it?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Sarah reassured. "It was more of a Gabriel type exile. His powers are safe and sound."
"Fine. But why? What'd you do, Cas?"
Castiel sighed. "The others felt that I was too preoccupied to complete my duties," he answered softly.
Dean stopped for a moment, and then he raised an eyebrow. "Because of me?" he asked, skeptically. He said it because there was no other explanation, nothing else that could have captivated Castiel's attention and time. But still he was skeptical because, well, he was Dean Winchester. He still wasn't used to having people outside his family care about him.
Smiling, Castiel agreed, "Yes, because of you."
It was so adorable that Sarah almost hated to ruin it all. She did anyway, saying, "Yeah, he was too distracted to deal with the whole Sam problem."
Everything in the room froze.
Dean was the first to move again, and he turned to glare at Castiel. "What Sam problem?" he ground out.
Castiel met Dean's gaze easily, staring back with those too blue eyes. "Sam has escaped from Hell."
"What?" Besides that one word, Dean was left speechless. He could do nothing but stare with his jaw a sliver away from falling open. When he could form words again, he demanded, "How long?"
"I don't know exactly when Sam left his prison. And don't worry, Lucifer is still trapped."
"That's not what I'm talking about, you son of a bitch," Dean growled. "How long have you known?"
Castiel frowned. "Since we began our hunt for this demon," he answered.
Dean gaped. "And what? You didn't think that it was 'terribly important'? What else haven't you told me?"
"Dean," Castiel tried, reaching for Dean's arm. To his surprise, the hunter pulled away.
"I trusted you, Cas! And you're keeping secrets from me!" Dean fumed, pushing away from the table. In moments, he was at Sarah's front door, pulling it open. He took a second to turn back to the angel before he walked out that door. "You know what? Fuck you, Cas."
And with that, he was outside and heading somewhere far away.
Castiel frowned. What exactly was Dean trying to accomplish? He couldn't leave town fast enough to get out of the angel's sights, and he could fly in at any time. Considering that fact, Castiel decided that he shouldn't wait at all, and thought himself away, into Dean's Impala.
Nothing happened.
He looked around himself, to find that he was exactly where he had been a moment before.
"Sorry," Sarah sighed from her seat at the table. "You know how it is, sometimes."
"No," Castiel said, tilting his head in confusion, "I'm afraid I don't."
Sarah tried to suppress a giggle at the angel's response, but found herself unable to do so. "You know, sometimes things just have to be a certain way for things to turn out just right."
Frowning, Castiel shook his head. "I've never found that to be true."
"Huh." The Prophet made a face. "Time travel. It's kind of like time travel, okay?"
Grudgingly, Castiel nodded. "I suppose that could be true."
Brightening, Sarah smiled. "Good. Well, this is just the way this story goes. You can't follow Dean just yet."
"Why not?"
"Because you would find him."
"I don't understand why that would be a bad thing," Castiel said, though he allowed, "unless he refuses to forgive me."
"Have you ever heard the phrase 'You have to earn your happy ending'?" Sarah asked.
"No," was all the answer she got.
"Of course not." She shook her head. "It means that you need to suffer before you can get the ending you want."
Castiel answered this with a frown. "Dean has suffered much, and he still has not gotten a happy ending. Hasn't he done enough?"
Sarah considered this. "Maybe you haven't, though."
She got a blank stare for her insightful idea. "I nearly fell to help Dean fight a war I was sure we could not win. What else do I have to do?"
"I don't know, okay?" Sarah sighed. "It's not like I'm God or anything. Just a mouthpiece for the inspired word."
Silence stretched between the two of them. Several long moments passed, but still neither made a sound. After some time,
Sarah opened her mouth, but she closed it before she could think of anything to say.
Finally, Castiel broke the oppressive silence. "Why can't I leave?"
"I already told you."
Castiel shook his head. "No. You told me why you won't let me leave. You haven't told me why I am unable to leave."
"Oh," Sarah said, flipping her hand in the air dismissively. "I picked up a bit of Enochian, and I used it to set a warding on the house."
Castiel took a moment to feel out the house, and, sure enough, it was a network of Enochian sigils that prevented his departure. He didn't understand how he had missed it before. Plus, "I was able to come into the house," Castiel said, blinking.
"Well, you walked in."
"Could I walk out?"
"No. Your teleport attempt activated the warding."
Castiel sighed, resigned to his temporary imprisonment. "When can I leave?"
"The warding should last a few more hours," the Prophet replied, watching the angel out of the corner of her eye.
"Dean could be anywhere by then."
"That was kind of the point," Sarah offered. "Weren't you paying any attention?"
Castiel had no answer to give for that. Instead he settled himself to sit quietly. After all, what was a wait of a few hours to an eternal being with infinite patience?
The warding lasted longer than a few hours. In fact, it lasted an entire day. Castiel was surprised that no one came into the house the whole while he was there. When he asked about it, Sarah said that her parents were out of town for the weekend, and her sister was "hanging out" with her girlfriend. (Even though Castiel was sure that was already slang, the way Sarah used it seemed to imply an even different meaning.)
When Castiel finally felt the bindings holding him in place dissipate, he clambered to his feet.
Sarah, who was currently tapping away at a laptop computer, waved her hand in the air. "You're free to go," she announced.
Castiel was aware, thank you very much. However, her continued tapping piqued his interest, and he moved behind her to observe. Just a quick hop, testing his abilities before he left for good. "What are you writing?"
Previously unaware that Castiel had moved, Sarah squeaked when he spoke. She instinctively minimized the document, a red flush spreading across her face. "It's not Gospel, if that's what you're asking," she grumbled.
Castiel frowned. "I saw my name, and Dean's."
Sarah turned an even brighter red. "Well, it's not canon, okay?" She appeared to struggle for the precise word that she needed. "It's, um, apocrypha."
Castiel nodded solemnly. The Prophet was allowed to write whatsoever she wished on her own time. "I must find Dean now," he said.
"Good luck with that," Sarah offered cheerfully. She didn't get an answer. Previous~ Next