The King's Men | Revised

This is chapter's 7 on of where I personally wanted to take this story, as opposed to where I was forced to take it in the other one by the prompter.

AN: I...since having to change the story up in the first place, lost track of my original idea SO HARD that it was quite difficult to recall the ideas that I'd let go of in order to make room for the prompter's demands. This is why it took so long to get this chapter out. Most of first half is even the same. I do apologize for the wait.

There will be probably two to three chapters total for this one. Bear with me. I should, at this point, be able to get them out within a week or so.

.~*~.

He stood and hurried back to his brother. Still on his knees, Sam was trying in vain to reach the wound. "Sammy!" Dean shouted worriedly as he skidded down in front of him. "Sam, its gonna be okay," he told him. His blood ran cold, if that was even possible anymore. Flashbacks of a night in Cold Oak, the devastation and despair, wrecking into him all at once.

Sam was panicking, his breath coming rapidly. Dean didn't even want to look at the wound; didn't want to look away from his brother's face for even a second. "Gonna get you back, Sam. Back to the bunker. I'll patch you up, and it'll be okay," he told him, gathering him up in his arms.

The next moment found them in the library, Dean's best guess for where Castiel might be hanging out. It turns out that he was right.

"What happened?" the angel asked as he approached them.

"Sam's hurt bad," Dean said, voice shaking as he spoke. "I think we might need you to fix it this time, Cas."

"Certainly," he replied as he crouched down beside them.

"I swear I'll find you more grace if I have to," Dean continued. "No matter what happens with Chamuel. I swear it, Cas. Just please...please help Sam..."

"I'm not refusing you, Dean," Castiel replied, eyes narrowing as he appraised the older Winchester. Dean was clearly upset—terrified even—as he lifted Sam's shirts up away from the bloody wound. The younger brother fell forward then, his head leaden on Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean shook him. "Sammy, wake up, kiddo. C'mon. Cas!" he shouted as he searched for a pulse on his brother's neck.

The angel was behind Sam before Dean finished saying his name. He saw where the blood was coming from, and reached out his hand to lay it over the wound. He let the grace within him flow down into Sam, repairing all of the damage it could find.

Dean held onto Sam, one hand still clutching the hems of his brother's shirts up out of the way for Cas. His eyes were closed where his face pressed against the side of Sam's. Sam had stopped breathing before Castiel had touched him—or maybe it just seemed like he did. Dean couldn't tell. All he knew was that this wasn't right, and he was holding his own breath now, waiting and hoping and trying not to fall apart.

Then Sam's once completely pallid body was tensing up, and he was sucking in a breath like coming up out of water. Dean's eyes opened and he pulled away just enough to look at his brother's face.

The last Sam had remembered was Dean shouting to Castiel, everything sounding as though it was being said under water. The pain had been overwhelming, spreading like fire into his chest. Then there was nothing but darkness, no different than any other time he'd lost consciousness, really. Now everything felt okay. He could breathe. The pain was gone. And Dean was looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and panic, and maybe anger, too.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said in a small voice. "I didn't see him. I thought we got them all..."

"You fucking idiot," Dean said in rush of breath as he pulled Sam back into a hug. Sam was surprised to feel his brother's breath shudder from him, and he slid his arms around Dean to hold him. "What if Cas hadn't come here this week, huh?" he said, voice gruff but without enough bite. "What if we hadn't found that grace yet? What the fuck then, huh, Sam?"

"I'm sorry...Dean, I'm sorry..."

"Fuck..." Dean huffed a breath. He was silent for a minute, gears turning in his head. "Cas," he finally spoke. "Go check on Crowley. And uh...just...stay around there for a bit, okay? Till I call."

"Wait," Sam said, looking over at the angel. "Cas, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Castiel narrowed his eyes for a moment, pondering the fact that this man who had nearly died would be asking him that question. "Healing you...depleted a portion of the grace," he told him. "However, I am okay. I should be fine for a while still."

"Thank you," Sam told him. "For helping me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sam. Try and be more careful in the future."

"I will," Sam replied. And then the angel was gone. Sam looked to his brother who was still staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. "Dean?"

Any further questions were cut off when Dean's mouth was suddenly crushed to his. Hard, passionate, needing and wanting, Dean devoured it as he pulled Sam up off of the floor to stand. Sam went with it. He closed his eyes and held on as Dean began to peel Sam out of his button-up shirt. Suddenly Sam heard a squeaking sound beside him and his eyes shot open to look for its source. He was thrown off balance when he realized that they were no longer in the library, but in the shower room; Dean turning the faucet to turn on the water.

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam startled as the water hit him. "A little warning before zapping, please! That's cold! And I'm still dressed, dude!"

"Shut up," Dean replied softly, still busying himself with the task of getting Sam unclothed. "Just shut up, Sam."

.~*~.

The cries of Chamuel rang out when Castiel appeared in the storage unit. He grimaced at the sight. He remembered Samandriel and the state he'd found him in and rescued him from, only to be ordered to kill him in the end.

"Brother, stop this!" Chamuel begged.

Crowley turned around, only now realizing the angel was there. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was asked to come and...check in on your progress," Castiel replied.

"Well there hasn't been any yet, so you may as well bugger off," he told him as he turned back to Chamuel.

"Please, brother," Chamuel pleaded again. "Stop this..."

"You know that I can't do that," Castiel replied. "I need to find my grace, and you are our only viable clue."

"I'll take you to Nathanael!" the angel shouted. "I swear it!"

"He's lying," Crowley said.

"I'm not. I promise you. I will take you to him."

"If you're freed, you'll run to Nathanael and tell him to relocate," Crowley countered, then turned to Castiel. "You can't trust this one."

"Why don't you just tell me where he is?" Castiel questioned the other angel.

"Because the moment I do, you'll have no reason to keep me alive," Chamuel replied. "And even if I told you where he is, or this disgusting creature happens to get the information from me," he motioned to Crowley, "Nathanael will be reluctant to hand over your grace. If you allow me to take you to him, I can convince him to give it back to you."

"And how are you gonna do that?" Crowley asked.

"I'm his messenger," Chamuel spat. "If he believes the order came through Metatron, he will comply."

"If you buy into this, you're a fool, Castiel," Crowley told him.

"Don't confuse angels and demons, Crowley," Castiel replied. "You might be used to betrayal and a strong lack of loyalty, but we are different."

Crowley laughed. "Are you being serious? Have you forgotten even just the past year of your existence?"

"What assurance do I have that you're telling me the truth?" Castiel asked Chamuel.

"I promise on my grace... I will take you to Nathanael and get you your grace back. If I'm lying, and I run off, there's nothing to stop the Winchesters from summoning me again."

"You can't be considering this," Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at Castiel.

Cas held up a hand to silence him, and continued speaking to the other angel. "When we're finished, you and Nathanael will return to Heaven."

"We want to be granted pardon," Chamuel replied. "Let us stay here."

"What could you possibly benefit from staying? Metatron is locked away. You're needed up there. Both of you."

"I'm helping you in order to save my life, Castiel. At least let me live it on my own terms."

"If you stay here, I can't guarantee your safety from the Winchesters. Nor can you be allowed the opportunity for revenge upon them."

"If I promise not to touch them, will you at least let me take my chances?" Chamuel begged.

"Why are you so adamant to stay away from home?" Castiel asked, confused by the angel's relentlessness.

"I've...done things in the name of Metatron. There is going to be...animosity," he explained.

Castiel considered this for a moment. "You must know of the many things I've done," he told him. "I killed...so many of our own kind. I've disobeyed orders countless times. The list goes on, and yet...somehow our brothers and sisters have chosen to grant me forgiveness."

"Not everyone is so lucky, brother," he replied. "Lucifer did lesser things than you have. He was cast out, thrown into the darkest pits of Hell."

"A choice made by our father," Castiel replied. "He doesn't seem to be running things anymore. Not for a long time now."

"It doesn't matter. I know you're trying to convince me, Castiel, but I want to stay. Will you do this for me or not?"

Castiel took in a long breath and let it out. "Fine," he replied as he stepped forward to remove the devices from the angel.

"You're making a mistake, trench coat," Crowley said.

"The purpose of this mission is to retrieve my grace," Cas replied. "If there is a way to do it myself, I'd rather do it than to put the Winchesters at further risk."

"Risk of what, exactly? It seems they can handle themselves pretty well."

"Sam almost died today," Castiel replied, looking at the demon now. "You think Dean is unbalanced now? If he loses Sam because I run out of grace, imagine what will happen. His tether to humanity would no longer exist. Angels and demons wouldn't be the only thing on his to-do list." He pulled the last rod from Chamuel's head and went to work on the restraints. "There is more than one way to start an apocalypse," he continued. "And I believe that Dean Winchester on a rampage as a monumentally powerful demon is one of them."

"He's gonna be pissed that you went without him," Crowley said. "And he's gonna take it out on me."

"I'll likely be back before they even know I've gone," Castiel replied, helping Chamuel out of the chair. "But in the event that it takes longer than I anticipate, please tell him that I said I'm sorry. Perhaps that will...calm him down." With that, the angels disappeared, leaving Crowley alone.

"Bollocks!" Crowley growled.

.~*~.

Dean dropped the last of their sopping wet clothes into a pile beside their boots, and turned back to Sam, kissing him again as he washed away the remnants of his blood from his skin.

"Dean," Sam said softly between kisses. He was a little worried as he could feel Dean somewhere close to trembling, buzzing with some kind of energy he wasn't sure how to interpret. "Dean, are you okay?"

"You almost died," he said again. "I need to feel you. Just..let me..."

"Anything," Sam replied.

Dean pulled back and looked at him for a moment. Then he sunk down to his knees, and Sam braced himself back against the tile. "Turn around," Dean told him, looking up at him still. Sam swallowed, then slowly did as he was asked, placing his palms to the wall. He closed his eyes when he felt Dean's hands on both globes of his ass, thumbs running along the crack. Dean spread Sam's cheeks, eying the winking, pink hole before he moved forward, slipping his tongue over the rim.

"Oh my god..." Sam keened, his forehead pressing into the wall as his brother's tongue slipped inside of him.

.~*~.

"Castiel," Nathanael greeted. He was in a tall, lanky vessel dressed in a blue suit with pinstripes. The interior of the house they were currently in was mostly white, ordained with intricately carved wooden trim around the large fireplace they stood in front of. "Chamuel has assured me that I'm no longer obligated to keep your grace from you."

"I assume you wish to stay here as well," Castiel replied.

"On the contrary, I'm itching to get home," Nathanael told him with a grin. "I didn't much care for Metatron, and I didn't want to choose sides, but there wasn't much choice with the power he had."

"Why didn't you return once he was imprisoned?" Castiel asked with narrowed eyes.

"I had orders," he replied with a shrug. "A soldier doesn't abandon orders just because his commanding officer has been lost. He waits for orders from the new boss. I have yet to receive any."

"There is no...new boss," Castiel told him.

"I heard they were trying to convince you to take the job," he said with a lazy grin.

"I declined. I...just want to be an angel. I just want my grace back; to get back to being what I was meant to be."

"The protector of your charge," Nathanael surmised. Castiel met his eyes, but didn't reply. "Word is, he died. Now he's some kind of...super-charged demon running around destroying all of the strays." Castiel looked away. "Well there's nothing to be ashamed of there, brother," he said with a smile. "I admire the aspiration. What's the saying? 'When life gives you lemons'?"

"He's doing good works, despite his current...situation," Castiel told him. "But his ultimate goal is to be rid of the Mark so that his brother can cure him without further complications."

"Ah yes...Cain." He bent his head closer toward Castiel and whispered. "I've been keeping my eye on that one, myself."

"You know of his location," Castiel surmised.

"Well," Nathanael straightened back up, "I am the master of all things hidden."

"I would be...most appreciative if you could assist us, when the time comes," Castiel said. "There's more to the situation than you might think."

"Castiel, I'm not the type of person to do favors," he replied. "However...I suppose in a way I owe you. I've been keeping your grace from you for a long while, even if it wasn't a personal choice." He pulled the vial from the chain around his neck, and it glowed brightly in the presence of its owner. "Call on me when the time comes, brother," he said with a warm smile, then pulled the vial from the chain and threw it to the ground.

The grace, now free, rose up and into Castiel, and he felt the warmth and peace of it as it filled him up. He felt whole again, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. Then something was wrong, warning him. The extra grace within him was shouting out like a siren as it could sense the presence of danger; an angel sword coming at him from behind.

Cas spun around in time to grab onto Chamuel's wrist before he could thrust the blade into Castiel. "I should have known you would stab my in the back," he told him, then allowed his own sword to drop into his hand from his sleeve.

"Wait!" Chamuel protested. "Wait, I'll go home! I'll go to Heaven!"

"If there is anything I've learned over my years on this plane, it is the loose ends with which men hang themselves," Cas replied before plunging the sword into Chamuel's chest. When the dead angel dropped to the floor, Castiel turned to Nathanael. "That was a quote from Zelda Fitzgerald," he told him calmly, with a hint of sheepishness.

Nathanael, amused, smiled and let out a small laugh.

.~*~.

Dean had Sam wet and stretched and ready for him, constant moans escaping him where he stood up against the wall. Dean abandoned his administrations and stood, turning Sam to face him so that he could kiss him again.

"Dean...Dean, I want you," Sam spoke, words devoured by his brother's mouth. "Please..."

"Bedroom, Sammy," Dean replied, reaching over to turn the water off before he brought them to his room. Sam was used to it now, the instant traveling. The fact that Dean could pick him up and plant him on the bed as if he weighed nothing, was still taking a little getting used to. He spread his legs wide as Dean climbed over him onto the bed. Once between his brother's legs, Dean slid his hand up Sam's hard, leaking cock where it lay against his stomach, causing Sam to suck in a breath through his teeth. He leaned down over Sam and laid his forehead against his. "I love you so much, Sammy," he told him in a shaky voice, eyes wet.

Sam blinked back the sudden stinging in his own eyes as he looked into Dean's. His hands came up to rest on Dean's shoulders. "I love you too," Sam replied. His hands moved up to Dean's face and pulled him down so that he could kiss him again. "More than anything," he said against Dean's lips.

Dean's arms snaked around Sam, between his back and the sheets, as he pressed the length of his hard cock into Sam's and groaned into the kiss. He felt when Sam pulled his knees back.

"C'mon, Dean," he said as he bit down on his brother's lower lip. "Want you. Now."

Dean growled as he reached for the lube on the side table, still sitting there from last time. He poured a generous amount into his palm and then coated his cock before lining himself up. Then he pressed in slowly, waiting for Sam to relax around him this time. Which consequently didn't take long at all.

"C'mon," Sam repeated. "Fuck me...Want you to make me feel it for days..."

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean said, burying his head in the crook of Sam's neck as he pressed all the way in. "Oh fuck...so fucking tight..."

.~*~.

"Perhaps I should have let him go back," Castiel pondered aloud as he stared down at Chamuel's empty vessel.

"You said it yourself," Nathanael replied, "Loose ends and whatnot. I happen to agree with you, by the way."

"I...appreciate you're reassurance," Castiel said with a sigh. "I'm just so tired of the killing. I thought it would be finished once Metatron was locked away."

"But you've got yourself a whole new set of problems, now," Nathanael said.

"Yes," Cas replied. "I just wish I could fix everything. I'm not certain that going to Cain will actually solve our current dilemma."

"You expect him to take back the Mark," he surmised.

"He will be reluctant to do so."

"Dean made a promise to him, you know," Nathanael told him. Castiel's eyes narrowed as his head titled just a little to the side, in question. "Dean promised that when he was through killing Abaddon, he'd find Cain and kill him." Castiel looked away for a moment in thought. "You know...whomever Dean give that Mark to will have that power," he told him. "He will have those same urges to kill, that same rush once it's been done. Cain only ever gave it to Dean once he was truly satisfied that Dean was worthy to take it; able to handle it. And he can, Castiel. Especially now that he's a demon."

"That's exactly the reason he doesn't want it," he replied. "Dean despises what he's become. He's simply taking advantage of the power while he has it. Like you said, 'when life gives you lemons'."

"Getting rid of the Mark won't change that."

"It will," Castiel replied with confidence. "They know how to cure a demon. It was...the last Trial, though Sam was stopped before he could complete it..."

"And they don't want to cure him while he still has the Mark," Nathanael understood. He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "This is not something I can answer for you..."

.

.~*~.

"Fuck, Dean! Oh fuck!" Sam shouted as his brother pounded into him, ropes of come streaking his chest, unintelligible words coming from Dean as he followed him over.

They laid there like that for a while, breath returning to them slowly. Dean placed kisses up his brother's chest, lapping up the come before he met Sam's mouth again. "Mmm...know what's good after great sex?" he asked. "Pie."

Sam laughed. "I doubt you need a reason for pie."

"You're right. I don't. But you were supposed to have lunch."

"Lunch is pie, then?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Dessert. Comes after lunch, genius. You wanna come down to the kitchen with me, or want me to bring something up?"

"You're offering to wait on me?"

"Offer taken back. Come on," Dean said as he rolled off of the bed and went to the dresser to pull out some clothes. "Here ya go," he said as he threw a pair of folded jeans and a dark blue tee shirt at him.

"Boxers," Sam requested. "Top drawer."

"You really need underwear?" Dean asked with a raised brow.

"I...yeah actually. Chaffing isn't worth the easier access," he said, shaking his head.

"Fine," Dean sighed and threw him a pair of black underwear. "All my crap is in my room. I'm gonna go change. Meet you in the kitchen."

Sam watched him as he walked out of the room, and smiled to himself before he pulled on his boxers.

.~*~.

"Why don't we sit, Castiel," Nathanael offered, gesturing to one of the armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace. "I was going to have tea before you showed up. Would you care for some?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Castiel replied as he took his seat.

Nathanael sat down across from him and picked up the still steaming teapot, pouring himself a mug full. "I know we don't require such sustenance, but I've grown quite fond of Earl Grey," he told him.

"I know you don't understand why I'm so insistent in finding a solution to Dean's problem," Castiel began.

"Oh, Castiel," he said with a sigh, sitting back on the chair with his cup. "I've been holding onto that grace long enough to know its secrets. It's shown me things. I know what those boys mean to you. Especially Dean."

"Then you do understand."

"I do," he nodded. "But I'm not sure how to help."

"The only viable solution would be to rid of the Mark completely; to destroy it somehow."

"You would need God for that, I think," Nathanael replied, then took a sip of his tea.

.~*~.

"Dude, it's been...well over six hours," Dean said as he glanced at his watch, a forkful of pie in his other hand where he sat across from Sam at the table. "Why aren't you jonesing?"

Sam had been ready to take a bite of his sandwich, but paused at the question, as if just now realizing the fact to be true. "I...have no idea," he replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It's like it's...gone."

"How is that even possible?" Dean tilted his head. "You didn't go through any detox. No withdrawal symptoms."

"Maybe...maybe when Cas healed me...he somehow healed that too?" he theorized. "I mean...we never tried it before, did we? Maybe he didn't even know he was doing it..."

"Friggin' weird, man," Dean said, shaking his head. "Hell, we should probably go check on him. Christ...I sent him away like an hour ago. Crowley's probably driving him nuts."

"Or the other way around," Sam said with a laugh, pushing away from the table as Dean did. He prepared himself for the fast-travel, closing his eyes when Dean grabbed his shoulder, and picturing the storage unit so he would have his bearings when he opened them again.

"What the hell?" Dean yelled, and Sam opened his eyes to see only Crowley in the room. "Where's Chamuel?"

"I couldn't stop Castiel," Crowley defended. "The idiot let him take him to Nathanael, or at least that's what he said. They've been gone a while. He said if you beat him here, to tell you he was sorry. So...don't shoot the messenger, eh? It was out of my power to stop him."

"You're the one who had to work alone!" Dean shouted. "This is the kinda crap that happens when I ain't lookin'!"

"I'll help find him, all right?" Crowley offered. "I tried to tell him not to listen to the little twit, but he kept on. Told him he was shifty, that one. Cas seemed determined to get his grace back without the two of you. Didn't want you in danger and whatnot."

Dean growled and crouched down to scratch out part of the devil's trap. "You go find him, damnit!" he shouted as he stood back up. "If he's in trouble, you get back here and tell me where he is, pronto."

"Yes, your majesty," Crowley said with a bow, and then disappeared.

"Is it weird that I find it kinda hot that you have that kinda control over him?" Sam asked.

Dean shot a glare at his brother. "Dude...he friggin' left without us," he said, still angry, but softer-spoken with his brother.

"Cas is strong, Dean," Sam assured him. "He can take care of himself. I'm sure he had good reason to trust Chamuel."

Dean took a calming breath, allowing Sam's words to absorb for a moment.

.~*~.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Crowley asked incredulously, where he watched Castiel and Nathanael sitting in front of the fireplace. "I luck out and follow this Chamuel moron's bloody trail to find him dead, and the two of you talkin' over tea!"

"We're discussing important matters," Castiel defended.

"I don't care how important the matters are," he replied angrily. "You left me there alone and they came back; you nowhere in sight and Chamuel missing. I told you it would happen, and I told you they'd be angry with me, and now I'm supposed to trace you down and take you back to them."

"Oh really, Crowley," Nathanael said with amused smile. "You're taking orders from the Winchesters now?"

"Not takin' orders, Natty," Crowley sneered in reply. "We've got an agreement's, all." Nathanael let out a small laugh, a hand covering the evidence of it.

"You two...know each other?" Castiel questioned.

"We used to play hide-and-seek," Crowley said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What was that, a hundred or so years ago?" Nathanael mused reminiscently.

"Pre-Winchester days," the demon said with a shrug. "Things were a lot less chaotic back then."

"Well it's not really their fault," Nathanael said. "Their destinies were planned out for them before they were even created."

"Yeah, yeah. Targets of Heaven and Hell and Fate and blahdy blahdy blah... One big supernatural Days of Our Lives," Crowley sighed.

"Too bad nothing could've been done about free will, eh?" Nathanael said with a laugh. "I'm sure no one planned on the two of them being so strong with it."

"If they didn't have that strong will," Castiel interjected, "The apocalypse would've happened."

"I was being rhetorical," Nathanael told his brother. "I do enjoy the world the way it is. Or rather...the way it was, anyway. Before everything began free-roaming the place."

"Then I suppose you'll be ecstatic to hear that Dean plans to wipe everything off of it," Crowley told him.

"I am," Nathanael replied. "Quite, actually. Except I'd rather he wait until I'm back home. You think he'd give me the same kind of deal he gave you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed for a moment. "How do you know about that?" he asked. "Never mind. I don't even want to know." He sighed. "You'd have to have something to offer him. Something worth letting you come around."

"Aside from what I already told Castiel I'd help with," Nathanael pondered. "Hmm...I do believe I have something that would be a fair bargain. Although it would require Castiel, and you," he said to the demon.

"Me?" he raised his brows.

"You and your little...demon GPS tracking ability, being their king and all."

"I'm already giving them coordinates, so you'll have to find your own bargain-"

"It would be part of a spell, Crowley," the angel interjected.

"A spell to do what, exactly?"

"Spontaneously destroy all demons and angels that aren't where they belong," Nathanael replied quite calmly, maybe even amused.

Castiel's brows pinched as he considered his brother's words. "There's a spell for this? It sounds like another trial. Do you have another tablet?"

Nathanael laughed. "Those tablets...they're a bit much, don't you think? And the Trials? They're suicide for whomever performs them. You think the demon tablet Trials were bad, you should've seen the real angel tablet Trials.

"No, the spell was created as a fail-safe, for if and when the tablets fell into the wrong hands. You see...the tablets can't be kept in Heaven or in Hell for very long. They're disintegrate. Not many know this," he told them, and both Castiel and Crowley shared a slightly apprehensive, knowing look. "I wasn't going to say anything, seeing as I think it'd be the best thing that could happen, really."

"What do you mean, they can't stay in Heaven or Hell?" Crowley asked.

"Because, you numbskull, what's the point in having a key to closing the gates, if the instructions are within the walls? It's quite amusing, really. I mean...if we'd ever been able to hide them in Heaven, don't you think that that's exactly where they'd have been?"

"All right, fine," Crowley muttered. "Guess I have something else to put on the to-do list. So what's the bloody spell, then?"

"If I told you, what's to stop you from sabotaging it?"

"Dean fucking Winchester, that's who," he replied without hesitation. "And secondly, I'm a hundred percent for this little union of wiping out all the disobedient little snots still walking around like they have a soul's-worth of free will. As long as I get to survive it, that is."

"Everyone participating in the spell is immune," Nathanael replied, "Which is why I'll be safe at home before it starts."

"Why has this never been attempted before now?" Castiel asked.

"Other than the fact that you would need a willing angel and a willing demon? Because for one, Cain was hiding. And the other, there's only one remaining abomination of Azazel left..."

TBC...