Hey everyone!
So it's been a little while before I've posted anything. I moved into a new flat where I now live on my own and couldn't get internet for a couple of weeks and then I started a new, full-time job and I just haven't had the time to properly write. Although I've had this particular fic on the go for a while. It was originally two separate fics, but I kept getting stuck with it so I merged them together and here we are, just past midnight on Christmas day, with a slightly belated present.
This fic starts from the end of episode 7 and kind of skips over episode 8, and continues on from episode 9.
Enjoy.
"Hello, Dean."
"Cas? Hey, you okay? We – we tried to track you down but you were gone," Dean's voice was quick and worried as he stumbled over the words, "we ran into a bunch of demons, wh-what's happening?" Castiel struggled against the force holding him, cutting off his vocal chords, his chest filled with emotion at the sound of his friend's distress. Asmodeus rolled his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk highlighting the scars on his face. He held the phone loosely in front of him, as though this was a shared experience for the angel to enjoy.
"I'm sorry, I'm fine," the Prince of Hell said, pacing a few steps to either side, never out of Castiel's sight. Cas tried to move, to push against the solid air pinning him in place but he couldn't so much as lift a finger. Asmodeus raised an amused eyebrow at him, as though he could feel the meagre fight against his power, meeting his eyes as he spoke using Castiel's own voice, "I tried to call and warn you, but I couldn't get a signal."
Dean, Castiel thought desperately, Dean, please, that's not me. He knew that Dean couldn't hear him, of course. But he still prayed.
"Okay, well what's going on?" Dean's voice had settled slightly, as though hearing Castiel's voice had calmed him somehow. But it was still strained, the calm forced, as though he was making himself speak evenly and reasonably, asking for a fuller explanation rather than demanding one. He was holding back his concern, giving Cas the chance, the choice, to elaborate. It was unusual for his friend, and Castiel would have appreciated it far more if the gesture hadn't been directed at a powerful Prince of Hell in a pristine white suit.
"I'm following a very interesting lead," Asmodeus replied, accepting a drink off a silver tray from one of his lesser demons; Drexel, he thought his name was, "I'll fill you in when I know more. See you soon, Dean." He hung up the phone before Dean could respond and Cas was dragged from the room, passing a man with close cropped dark hair and bruises and - was that Ketch? Castiel's invisible restraints lasted until the second the bars closed behind him, the warding glowing brightly for a moment, sealing him inside. He could still hear the faint voice of Asmodeus and the slick English accent of Ketch, though he couldn't make out their words. The warding apparently muffled his hearing.
"Castiel, baby, you finally decided to show! I was getting worried." Lucifer's voice, dripping with sarcasm, filtered through the bars. Unfortunately, the warding didn't interfere with his hearing that much.
"Yes, well. Apparently I'm the favourite," he sniped back.
"Ouch. No need for the snark, Cas, we're both prisoners here."
If Castiel peered through the bars at the far corner and craned his neck, he could just about see where Lucifer gripped the bars of his own cell. The warding flared but it didn't seem to be doing him any damage. Castiel experimented, grabbing one of the metal bars. He snatched his hand back immediately with a yelp of pain, red welts already sizzling on his skin. Lucifer laughed.
"Yeah, sorry about that, kid, the wards don't work on me. Not like that. I made this place. I might be an egotistical megalomaniac but I'm not self-destructive."
"Shame." Castiel shook his hand, focusing his grace to heal the burns. It faded the sharp pain to a dull throb but the welts didn't fade completely. These weren't the flimsy cells made for human souls and they were more than strong enough to dampen a seraphim's powers. Castiel cursed quietly.
"Again, ouch."
Castiel rolled his eyes, a gesture that Lucifer couldn't see but seemed to suspect because he chuckled.
"If the wards can't hold you, does that mean you can break us out of here?"
Lucifer sighed dramatically, "sadly, no. I'm still powered down, but hey, seeing as we're dormmates now, tell me a secret. What did Azzy Dazzy want with you?"
Cas gritted his teeth, unsure whether or not to tell him. In the end he decided it really made no difference, "he answered my phone using my voice and apparently he wanted an audience. It seems he has the same ego of his creator."
"Ahh," Lucifer said, "the old psychological torture gig? I get that."
Cas grimaced and retreated from the bars, it's not like he could see anything anyway. There was a short pause, then Lucifer's voice came again, quieter, more earnest.
"So, did Dean-o buy it?"
Castiel frowned at the sudden change in tone, "what?"
"Come on. He must've noticed. You've only just met Asmodeus, I've known you for years and still Dean knew something was up when I was possessing you. I mean, granted, it took him a little while to do anything about it but that's not the point. I'm a great actor."
"You're a great pain in the ass," Cas corrected, "how would I know if Dean suspects anything? I didn't exactly get a chance to give him a hint."
"Aww, don't be like that Cassie," Lucifer pouted. Castiel could hear the pout in his voice. He ground his teeth in irritation, he had not missed having Lucifer's voice in his head, "there's no need to hide it from me, I'm pretty sure the whole world knows by now that you can sense if that boy sneezes. Surely you could tell, by his tone or whatever."
"It was a very brief call," Castiel answered shortly, "and I can't sense when he sneezes, that would be ridiculous."
"Right." The devil's tone was amused. Castiel said nothing, hoping this conversation was over. No such luck.
"So let's assume that I'm right and they're on their way here right now. What are we gonna do to help them?"
Castiel sat down heavily on the stone bench and leaned against the wall.
"They're not that stupid."
Lucifer let out a disbelieving 'ehhhh' sound. Unfortunately, Castiel couldn't wholly disagree. The Winchesters might be smart, but they were known to be reckless. Especially Dean. He only hoped that Sam would be able to talk some sense into him.
Xxx
Apparently, he was right. The Winchesters weren't that stupid. It had been several weeks now as far as Castiel could tell, and no word from either of them. Not so much as a quick prayer in note form to keep him updated. It was endlessly frustrating. He couldn't be sure if Asmodeus was continuing to fool the brothers or if they just hadn't called. Lucifer insisted it was the latter,
"If they knew something was up, why would they call back?" He pointed out to Castiel for the eighth time that morning, or whatever time it was, it was impossible to be sure, it was a few minutes before a demon came to check that they were still in their cages. She spat insults at Castiel but didn't dare taunt Lucifer, in fact, walking past his cage she looked as meek and apologetic as Jack had on that drive home to the bunker, what felt like a lifetime ago. Lucifer scoffed in derision and threw out his own threats, which only made the demon walk faster, head bowed in what was either fear, guilt or a healthy dose of self-preservation.
"Suck-ups," Lucifer muttered, bitterly, "she only wants me to think she's sorry I'm in here, thinks I won't vaporise her the second I get out. I bet she's laughing with the others, bowing and scraping for that sodden runt I never should've made," he sighed heavily and Castiel rolled his eyes.
If he was being honest, the fact that Lucifer was here and constantly talking at him was the only thing keeping him sane. How ironic that it was also driving him insane. It did mean that he couldn't zone out during long hours of silence, seeing as he had none, which made it easier to keep at least a rough estimation of how much time had passed.
"Like I said, they wouldn't bother if they knew they were just going to get a fake, it means they can't give away that they know it's not you."
"Wouldn't it be more suspicious if they didn't call to check on me at all?" Castiel sighed.
"Only if you know them," Lucifer said casually, "which Asmodeus doesn't. They'll be here."
"You seem to have a lot of faith in the men that trapped you in another world and have tried to kill you more than once," Castiel snapped. He was tired of Lucifer's goddamn certainty that the Winchesters would come for him. It clashed too painfully with his own doubts.
"And you don't seem to have any," Lucifer shot back, "these are your guys bucko, and you're the one acting like they don't care about you enough to come, which makes zero sense. You were the one that wanted to fill them in on the whole me thing. You thought they'd make themselves useful. Not anymore?"
Castiel clenched his jaw. He didn't have to explain himself to Satan. He heard a scoff through the wall.
"You're afraid they don't care about you enough to come."
"If they came, they'd only be putting themselves in unnecessary danger," Cas retorted, sharply, "I hope they don't come. They're smart enough to know that they can't take on Asmodeus by themselves." He ignored the way that his stomach twisted at Lucifer's words, he knew the archangel was just trying to get a rise out of him, he hated that it was working.
"That never stopped them trying to take on me," Lucifer hissed softly. The smugness in his tone was infuriating, but that didn't make him wrong. The Winchesters had faced down Lucifer with the expectation of death looming over them, without a plan beyond keeping Lucifer away from the Nephilim being born, without so much as a hope that they would actually succeed.
"They have other things to worry about," Castiel said, after a moment's pause, "like your son, they need to find him before Asmodeus or the angels do."
"Sure, sure." Lucifer said dismissively, "but isn't 'family first' their motto or something?"
"No." Castiel said bluntly.
"Really? I coulda sworn it was something dumb like that."
"Their motto is besides the point. Jack is their family now too."
"Ugh, barf,"
Castiel rolled his eyes so hard he almost cricked his neck.
"So, it doesn't bother you at all?" Lucifer asked, "that they might not be coming?"
"They're not coming."
"Why are you so certain?"
"Because they're not looking for me." Castiel snapped.
There was a short pause and then Lucifer began to cackle.
"Oh, ouch. If your precious Dean didn't notice something was off then that's gotta smart somethin' bad. What makes you say that, Castiel? Is your hearing better than mine? How do you know for sure?"
Because if they were worried, Dean would have prayed to me by now.
"I just do."
Lucifer huffed, "well, that's a shame. I mean, just to be clear, those boys are not my favourite people. That being said, they are tenacious, and if anyone could get us out of here, I'd bet on the Winchesters. Oh well, plan B."
"Which is…?" Castiel asked, warily.
"I'll let you know when I've got one," Lucifer's voice contained far more joy than the situation warranted.
"Wonderful," Cas said, leaning back against the wall. The bench was the only decoration in the cell. Unless the rust-brown stains counted as splashes of colour. The wards pulsed dimly if he got too close to them, but otherwise there was no light; he didn't really need light of course, his eyes were far superior to that of a humans. But it did give everything a grey, oppressive air, as though they had been thrown down here to be forgotten. He supposed that was the point.
Castiel couldn't help the way that his thoughts churned when they turned to the Winchesters. It was small and selfish of him but he too had expected them to burst through the doors, spotted with demon blood, knife in hand within a few days at the most. He had been both relieved and disappointed when they hadn't come at all and he hated the contradiction within himself. It meant that they were safe and free to find Jack, but it also meant that that Dean didn't know him as well as he thought he did, or that he didn't know Dean as well as he thought. Neither option brought him any comfort.
He wondered how long it would take them to realise that something was wrong. Asmodeus didn't have much of an option other than being vague and keeping their conversations as short as possible, lest he risk saying something that would be too much of a giveaway or whether the conversation turned to a topic that relied on knowledge of previous conversations. Eventually, surely one of the Winchesters would realise how impersonal he had become.
Stop thinking like that, Castiel chastised himself, it's better for them if they don't think anything's wrong.
But in the brief periods of silence when Lucifer seemed to run out of air, Castiel's thoughts kept returning to the idea that maybe the brothers did guess that something was amiss, but they just didn't care enough to act on it. He tried to wrangle his thoughts into submission, the Winchesters had proven the strength of their friendship time and again, they had saved him and helped him and taken him in when he had nothing, the warmth of their hugs, the sound of their laughter, the joy in their eyes as they had seen him standing by that payphone. They had missed him. Dean had welcomed him home, told him it was good to have him back, forced him into wearing a ridiculous hat and had trusted his decision to go and meet up with Duma alone, without the usual bluster trying to get Cas to stay.
Perhaps he didn't want you to stay, a traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispered, perhaps they had adjusted to life without you and realised that they don't need you anymore.
Castiel shook himself. It was ridiculous, the whole idea that Dean didn't care about him was ridiculous.
"Lucifer," Castiel called to the adjacent cell, seeking out a distraction, "how's plan B coming along?"
Xxx
The monsters in the Bad Place were slightly different to the ones Dean was used to, but they died just the same. It reminded Dean of Purgatory so strongly that for a minute he was there, Cas and Benny at his back, surrounded by vampires and Leviathan, a mission to find a way out. Then he blinked, and it was Sam next to him, not Benny, and these things weren't Leviathan or vamps; they were stronger, faster, harder to predict. More like wendigos, which for some reason had been rarer in Purgatory, only the mission was still the same.
But there weren't just the humanoid creatures, strangely proportioned with long, claw-like fingers and heavy jaws that jutted out, dark, patchy skin that blended in with the shadows of the foliage and large, almost perfectly round eyes, which was disconcerting, it made them look almost childlike. There were larger things here too. Animals that shook the ground when they passed. Dean hadn't gotten a good look at one yet, he had pulled Sam behind the nearest tree and stayed there until the shaking stopped and the birdsong returned. Sam had peeked out to get a glimpse and jerked back, pale and wide-eyed. He refused to describe the thing, and Dean didn't ask. Those things weren't really a concern for him as long as they stayed well away, the things that kept him awake were the things at eye level, the ones that came at them swinging, fangs bared, their claws blurring with speed. They were agile and hard to pin down and they were just as likely to run away after an initial charge as they were to fight to the bloody end. They also moved almost as a complete unit, each of their moves complementing each other and Sam had a theory that they were at least somewhat telepathic. Dean could get behind that, but he didn't understand why they kept coming at them. There was easier prey, small mammals and reptiles and even some things that looked a bit like elk, aside from the fangs. They were actually pretty good to eat, and he and Sam still had some dried fanged-elk from their second day here. It had lasted them a while, though Dean still put snares out every couple of nights for a two-tailed-squirrel thing or a weird creature that looked like a cross between a rabbit and a porcupine, just to keep things fresh. Sam rolled his eyes at the snares and commented that they had plenty of food, but he never refused a leg fresh from the spit. Dean never thought he'd miss hot sauce so much.
They had been travelling for almost two weeks now. The forest was never-ending, broken up only by the occasional stream, which the brothers were always grateful for. Dean had had a hip flask on him when on the boat and thankfully, it had transferred. It didn't hold much, but Sam fashioned a bottle of his own out of the empty (and thoroughly washed out) spray paint can which seemed to work fine.
Dean had noticed a change in his brother's posture over the past fortnight, a weariness and frustration to the set of his shoulders. Sam had borne up reasonably well for the first few days of hiking, but after a week, his brother had clearly begun to tire of the constant vigilance. Dean couldn't blame him, he too had to force himself not to jump at every tiny rustle of leaves.
"I'll take first watch," Dean offered, as he did almost every night. If they were going to get attacked in the night, it was likely to be earlier, and Dean would rather be awake if it happened. Besides, Sam could use the rest, two days before, one of the creatures (Dean had begun calling them Krugers, which annoyed Sam which only made the name stick,) had caught his arm with it's claws. The cut hadn't been deep, and Dean had cleaned it out and wrapped it with a strip of his own flannel, but it meant Sam's arm was a little more restricted in movement which wasn't ideal. Sam rolled his eyes and scratched at the makeshift bandage,
"Dean, I'm fine, I can take first," he said, "you need the sleep more than I do, don't think I haven't noticed how often you just 'forget' to wake me up."
Dean shook his head, smiling slightly, "I don't need to sleep much here anyway." He'd fallen back into Purgatory mode almost without realising, and it actually felt pretty good to not have anything bigger than the next meal or the next attack to worry about. He could push his worry for his mom and Kaia and Jack and Cas out of his mind and focus on the here and now. He'd missed this. The purity of it. The simplicity. He belonged in places like this. Nothing but survival, killing and hunting and living. No complications, no worries, just the rule of nature.
"Oh, I didn't realise you'd stopped being human all of a sudden," Sam said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "don't be an idiot, Dean. Of course you need to sleep."
"Not here, Sam," Dean insisted quietly, he stood, stretched, and stomped out the fire they'd just been using to cook on before sitting back down on a damp log and staring resolutely around at the trees. Having a fire destroyed his night vision, and luckily, the nights here were warm. He'd give his eyes time to adjust to the gloom before it got completely dark. Fire didn't scare away Krugers, it only served to draw other creatures, some predatory, and Dean would much rather try and keep as low a profile as possible during their time here. "And not for at least another six hours."
Sam frowned at him from his own log opposite but said nothing else. He stared into the curling smoke for a while, watching it rise into the sky.
"How are we going to get out of here, Dean?" he asked, softly, his voice pained, "how are we ever going to save Mom when we're stuck in another world?"
"We were already stuck in another world, Sam," Dean replied, "this is just a different one."
"But there we had resources, technology, friends. Here, we've got nothing."
Dean shrugged and lifted his angel blade, "we've got these, and we've got us. Do we really need anything else?"
Sam raised an eyebrow at him, "I get that you're trying to make me feel better, but the thought of being trapped here forever doesn't really appeal to me, and it doesn't help Mom either."
Dean shrugged again, "Jack'll get us back."
"You think so?" It was a genuine question,
"Well," Dean said, gesturing, "there's nothing here but things trying to kill us, so we have to wait on whatever's happening over there, maybe Jack and Kaia made it to Mom and they're back at the bunker, trying to figure out how to open another portal back here. I don't know, Sam but there's nothing that either of us can do but stay alive long enough to get rescued."
Sam snorted at that, "so what, we're damsels in distress now? Since when did we sit on our asses and do nothing?"
"Maybe if we had, less crap would have gone wrong." Dean retorted. His tone was light, he wasn't trying to start a fight, merely stating a fact. Sam looked as though he was about to argue, instead he laughed.
"You know, you're different here," Sam said, looking across the still smoking fire pit at his brother, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, he had a strange expression on his face that Dean couldn't quite define, "it's weird, you almost seem… content."
Dean quirked his lips in a smile and leaned back, looking up at the sky. With no light pollution, it was absolutely teaming with stars, "well, you don't get a view like that from underground," he said. Sam followed his eyes and nodded in silent agreement, then he pressed his lips together and looked down at the ground, he kicked at some damp leaves with his boot.
"How are you coping so well here? Don't you feel useless? I get what you're saying that there's nothing we can do, I know that. I just feel like I should be doing something anyway. Like I'm wasting time just sitting here when we both saw what Mom's going through."
Dean's jaw clenched and he pushed the memory down, focusing on the trees. Yes, he had seen Mary trapped in a metal cage, spikes on the inside, screaming for help. Yes, he had remembered her pain in the echoes he still carried from Hell. But that memory wouldn't help him here. He cleared his throat.
"Honestly? I'm not thinking about it," he said, spinning the angel blade in his hands as he stared into the underbrush, looking anywhere but at his brother.
"You're not thinking about it? You?" Sam said in disbelief, "Dean, pulled a gun on Kaia to get her to come along with us, you said 'no matter what it takes' to save Mom and now you're just not thinking about it?"
Dean shifted his position slightly to glance behind him. Their camp tonight might be on the water's edge, but Krugers could jump pretty far and he had no idea whether or not they could swim. Best to be safe.
"Look, all I know is that we're here. We've got no Jack, no Kaia, no Cas. No one knows where we are, all we can do is stay alive long enough for them to figure it out. So I'm staying alive, and so are you. There's nothing else to think about."
Sam snorted, "right, like you don't normally brood over every bad thing we've ever done or seen or gone through," he said, glancing around himself. He checked his six less often than he should, but Dean had him covered. "I just want to find Mom and go home."
"Wishing don't make it so," Dean said, "she's not even in this universe and we've got no way to make a portal. We have to assume Jack and Kaia got her and they're all fine."
"You have a lot of faith in Jack all of a sudden," Sam said, testily, "you were the one who assumed he was looking for Lucifer."
"Well, now we know different. And he's our only ticket out of here so…" Dean trailed off,
Sam was quiet for a moment,
"I wish I could be as sure," he said, looking somewhere behind Dean.
Dean considered his brother. He looked beaten-down, tired, and Dean felt a rush of guilt. Sammy didn't belong in a place like this, Dean hadn't realised just how big the toll on him was.
"You're meant to be the positive one," he said, gently, trying to catch his brother's eye. When Sam finally looked at him, Dean was surprised to see that there were unshed tears there. "Hey," he said, "I know this place is tough, but we're tougher, okay? We've just gotta stick it out until Jack opens another portal. It can't be much longer, right?"
Sam's smile lasted for half a second.
"We'll be okay," Dean said, "we're the freaking Winchesters. We've faced worse than this."
"Right,"
"I mean it, Sam. We're gonna get home and Mom and Cas and Jack are all gonna be there and we're gonna deal with the next thing." Dean held his brother's gaze, he wasn't entirely lying. He did think that Jack would probably come for them at some point, he just wasn't sure when exactly that would be.
"That's a nice dream, Dean. I just can't believe it right now. This place… it feels so cut off from everything, you know? Like we're trapped here forever, just killing Krugers and hiding from what are basically dinosaurs. It's like a bad movie and I just want out." Sam took a deep breath and exhaled long and slow, clearly calming himself. Dean's guilt churned inside him. He'd been so selfish, focusing only on the man vs monster aspect of this new world that he honestly hadn't given any thought to how they might get back if Jack didn't come through. He'd forgotten that Sam wasn't like Benny, Sam wasn't like him. Sam needed other people, he needed crowded streets and overpriced coffee and things to research. Sam needed humanity. His brother ran a hand through his hair and rolled his head on his neck. Dean heard the bones pop, even from across the fire pit.
"How are you so calm about everything?" Sam asked again, suddenly irritated, "I feel like I'm losing my mind here, but you're more focused than you've been in a long time. I thought you'd be spiralling by now, going crazy trying to find Mom. How are you just… not?"
Dean shrugged, "I dunno, it's just… everything's easier here. It's just making it through the day, the next fight, the next meal. It's not exactly complicated. It's just like Purgatory, you know?"
"I hated it there too," Sam said, "I don't know how you got through it."
"Just focus on the fight. There's nothing else except surviving, so there's no point in worrying."
"Not even about mom?"
Dean stopped, that image of Mary in the cage back in his brain. He shook himself.
"It's easier not to think about that here," he said eventually.
"Right, 'cause that's healthy."
"What do you want me to say?" Dean said heatedly, "I don't hate it here. It's not Hell, there aren't any angels or demons to worry about, there's no sneaking or red tape or good monsters or bad humans, it's clean cut and simple. There's us, and there's them. We don't need the right words to talk them out of being bad, we just need a blade. This is hunting. We kill the monsters and as a bonus, we don't die. The family business."
"And what about saving people?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "we're the only people here, Sam. We're saving ourselves."
"And our friends back home? Our family? Don't you wanna get back to them?"
Dean hesitated and closed his mouth. He had a sudden memory of the kitchen at the bunker, take out food. Laughing at Charlie and Cas as she showed the angel his answer in one of those paper game things. Clinking beers with his brother. Being happy.
"I do," he muttered, hating the way his voice cracked, "but I'd settle for them being okay."
"Whatever," Sam said, standing and walking over to a nearby tree, where he settled down to sleep, a clear dismissal of the conversation.
"Sam?" Dean said, half-turning his head, "for what it's worth, I wish you were back there too."
He heard a huff of breath as Sam turned over.
"It's not worth very much, Dean."
"Yeah, I know."
Silence fell. Sam seemed to fall asleep instantaneously, but it was only after an hour or so that his brother's breathing came deep and even enough to be genuine. Dean kept guard, staring into the darkness, standing to stretch and shift his vantage point every so often, listening to the wind in the leaves and the nocturnal shrieks and calls of the inhabitants of this planet. Ready for the next fight.
So whatcha think?
Do you think this was a decent place for a chapter break? I have quite a bit more written but I didn't want the first chapter to be too long.
I'm not 100% sure where this is going or when I will be able to update next, but I have tomorrow off and then it's only two days until the weekend so I'm hoping the next chapter will be up by the end of the week, (no promises).
I hope I managed to keep in with the characters properly; I've struggled with this one, having fallen out of the mindset I was previously in when I had time and the internet to keep it fresh in my mind.
It's also very different writing a story with the brothers being together for prolonged scenes, it's a very different dynamic and I've tried not to repeat the same point too often, although I may have failed there slightly, apologies.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and cherished.
Love Tibbins xx