Chapter One- Lucky Number Thirty-Five
Once a warrior of the Lord felt pain, they knew that it wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. So few were the times in the two thousand years of angels that one was injured, God could count on one of his glorious hands the number of angels who had felt the human sensation of pain.
Needless to say, Castiel had been thoroughly surprised at the sensation around his neck as Alastair tried to squeeze his life force from his vessel. Now as the angel groaned in a small house in the middle of nowhere, the not-disintegrated Alastair staring down at him with orbs of tainted white, Castiel was beginning to understand the concept of pain.
His arms were shackled far above his head. The angel hung nearly limply from chains that extended from the ceiling, blood running freely from the wounds on his exposed torso. He winced as the demon traced the lines of the brand on his chest with a corrupted onyx colored knife. "Not so high and mighty are we now, angel boy."
Castiel closed his eyes and willed himself not to say a word. Giving Alastair a protest or threat would only give the demon satisfaction.
"Thirty-four seals…" The angel's tormentor ran his fingers over the six brands on Castiel's arms. "Six of which you could have prevented, angel boy." With the knife, he pointed to each one of the brands. Each of which, were the symbol of a seal.
He is wrong. He is wrong. Castiel swallowed a sob and squeezed his eyes shut even harder, trying to somehow block out Alastair's words. He told himself that Alastair was only trying to mess with his mind.
"If only you had been just a little more vigilant…just a little bit more watchful over the humans' playground…What's daddy gonna say when big bad Lucifer walks on earth, hmm?" The demon plunged the knife deep into his victim's side, smiling as his action drew a long-anticipated scream out of the angel. He drew the knife back out of the angel, his smile growing wider at the sight of crimson blood dripping off the edge. "Maybe if you hadn't of paid so much attention to the Winchester boys…honestly, you should've just left them to us…left my best buddy Dean in hell…We had something, Dean and I. He had so much promise. So, so much promise."
"My Father has plans for Dean Winchester." Castiel fluttered his eyelids open, looking intently at Alastair with his piercing eyes that were filled with pain. "As He has plans for your death." His voice was weak but it still carried the authority.
The demon laughed. "Well, my master has plans for your death too. You're going to be a seal!" Alastair smirked menacingly. "Isn't that exciting, lucky number thirty-five?"
Once more, the demon traced the edges of the brand on Castiel's chest. The angel whimpered, closing his eyes tightly. Blood poured down from the pentagram, staining the angel's 'tax accountant' pants and dripping onto Alastair's shoes. "Tell me, angel boy, how does it feel to know that no one is coming for you?"
Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Alastair spoke first.
"No, not even daddy knows you're here. Until this brand goes away, and it won't anytime soon, you're stuck in this meat puppet. There's no angel healing, no angel GPS, not angel teleporting, nothing." The demon ruffled Castiel's hair grinning. "It's just me, you, and your grace." He pulled the angel's head up by grabbing a few locks of dark brown hair. Castiel wearily looked him in the eye. "And I'm gonna get to that grace by any means necessary."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"Winchester!" With a roar and a loud cracking smash, Uriel burst through the door of the motel room Dean and Sam had been staying in. The angel's violent approach at an entrance sent angry splinters of wood flying through the air.
Dean rose so quickly off of the bed, he almost dropped the beer he had been holding. Almost. "Whoa there, Chuckles!"
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam came running out of the bathroom, his brown hair dripping wet and clinging to his neck. He was clad in a towel, leaving his thin yet toned body free to view. "Uriel?"
"I knew you would betray us, you demon-blooded mud monkey!" With a flick of his cuffed wrist, the angel sent Sam flying into the back wall of the room, causing Dean to give him a glare that could kill.
"Are you going to tell us what happened or are you just going to use your freaky angel powers to throw my brother against walls?" The hunter smashed the bottle against the bedside table, creating a makeshift weapon but spilling the beloved amber liquid all over the matted blue carpet. He knew full well that the angel was untouchable and virtually indestructible but a weapon always made him feel more secure.
Uriel scowled at the brothers, a spark of pure white light in his eyes igniting an anger unlike anything the Winchesters had ever seen before. "Where have they taken my brother, mud monkeys? Where is Castiel?"
"IHOP!" Dean leaned forward, spitting the words out at Uriel. "I have no clue, shouldn't you be keeping better track of him! How the hell did you lose Cas in the first place?" His green eyes then personified the fury that he felt towards anyone that touched his brother. "Put Sam down and then we'll talk."
Sam fell roughly to the floor. He rolled his shoulders back grimacing and then raised his hand to his right shoulder. "When did you last see him?" The youngest Winchester pushed himself off the carpet gingerly, pleasantly astonished that he had kept his towel through the ordeal.
"Two days ago." The angel continued glaring. "After we left the barn."
"He hasn't contacted us since then. It was the last time we saw him too."
Uriel scowled at the ground. "It's demons. Only by binding him to the vessel would stop all communication."
"Demons have my angel? My angel!?"
"I can't track him. It has to be demons." Uriel sat down on the corner of Dean's bed.
Dean didn't like that. "God knows what they're doing to him and you're just sitting there?" The eldest Winchester ranted at Uriel. "We have to call Bobby! What if he's a seal?... Jesus Christ, Sammy, what if he's a seal?" The hunter jogged over to his leather jacket and dug his phone out of a pocket. He pressed a few buttons and then nearly yelled into the phone. "Bobby!"
Sam sighed. His only input would be questions and questions wouldn't bring Castiel to them.
"It's Castiel, nobody knows where he is. Yeah, even the trigger-happy angel can't find him."
Uriel narrowed his eyes at the green-eyed hunter before giving Sam an extra glare for fairness. Sam raised his hands in surrender and walked back inside the bathroom to put some clothes on.
"We're going to Bobby's." Dean slammed his fist on the bathroom door. "Samantha, we're going to Bobby's, come on."
Uriel stood and impatiently set his eyes on the door. "Robert Singer? Singer's Salvage Yard, South Dakota?"
The hunter stared at him for a second. It would take a while for him to get used to all of these angel powers. "Yeah."
"Very well."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Marian watched the rain drip down the window. She was beginning to grow tiresome with the city. After all, her duty was to heal and Vatican City no longer had any use for her services. Maybe the Father would think of something for her to do.
She absentmindedly ran a finger over the pure silver cross that had been burnt into her wrist. All she had been doing over the past twenty years was running trivial errands for the papacy and working on diplomatic relations. It had been well over thirty years since she had been on the front lines. Of course she had heard the whispers snaking through the Vatican about the seals and about Lilith. Marian sighed. She could help. She could heal and resurrect hunters, smite demons, do something. Her abilities would be of more use on the battlefield than growing weaker while in disuse. If her situation didn't change, she would probably end up going out and finding road kill to heal.
Walking over to the closet, Marian pulled out a brightly striped headscarf. She wrapped it around her face, covering her hair and a good part of her neck. Since the woman blatantly refused to wear a habit, a headscarf was the closest thing. The healer smoothed the wrinkled out of her floor length, sleeveless, black dress and was ready to go out into the city to find something to busy herself with.
Marian nearly fell to the ground. A burning in her chest erupted from her inner self. She was one of the "special ones" blessed by God with holy powers. Her grace and soul became a tangible object within her once she accepted the Father's gift. And now it stung like nothing she had felt before. Her breath wouldn't come.
She gasped, and as quickly as it had appeared the pain subsided. Marian reached a hand up to her desk and pulled herself up off of the marble floor. Her mind was in a panic. What had that been? Never had her grace been painful. Sister Wolfe nearly shed tears once she realized what had happened. She brushed herself off once more and headed into the city. If something happened to her while she reached out, the bishop needed to be present.
"Sister, is something wrong?"
"Where is the bishop?" Marian gazed at the Swiss Guard in front of her calmly. He probably didn't know of grace and such things; there was no use in scaring the boy.
Worry flashed in the guard's eyes for a brief second. "He is visiting with a priest from America, Sister."
"Where? This is urgent."
"Let me take you to him."
"Quickly." Marian followed the guard down a corridor, a set of stairs, and then down another stone corridor. The young man nodded to the two guards standing in front of the door, and they opened it. Without hesitating for formalities, Marian ran inside. She shot the bishop a questioning look and he nodded. The priest wasn't uninformed of demons and angels.
"This is Sister Wolfe, my friend. She is blessed."
Marian forced a smile and then became solemn once more. She walked over to the red armchair the bishop was sitting in and whispered in his ear. "An angel has been injured."
"What? How do you know?"
"I felt it. His grace."
"His? Who is this angel?" The graying bishop stood and looked directly into Marian's eyes.
"Does it matter? An angel has been harmed. An angel's grace has been tainted."
The bishop extended his hand to the priest, shook the man's hand and then led Marian out of the room. "Where? Do you know where he is?"
Marian closed her eyes and waited a few seconds to try to connect with the angel. An ominous black cloud enveloped her mind but nothing happened. "I can't find him."
"What do you mean? You have always been able to find stray angels?"
Her eyes flooded with tears. "I-I can't find him. It's demonic; I can't locate him." A tear broke free of Marian's attempts to keep the floodgates closed.
The bishop pulled her into a comforting hug and instantly knew the identity of the angel just by the woman's reaction. "We will find Castiel."
"His grace." Marian lost her composure and broke down crying. "If it has even been touched, demons are holding him."
"The Lord favors Castiel. He will not allow him to be distorted by Lucifer's spawn. Pray for him, Marian."
She pulled away from the bishop, displeased with his answer. He hadn't seen demons, hadn't bared witness to the sadistic intent showing in their eyes. Marian stormed down the corridor. If the angel had cried out to her and not the Father, there was no way God even knew there was something astray. She prayed that the Father had been alerted now that Castiel's peril had been somewhat revealed, but she doubted it.
"Sister." The guards in front of the archives bowed their heads to her as they pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
She walked inside and continued down the main path until she spied the section she was looking for. All of the books were bound in red leather. Marian counted down to the twelfth shelf, the sixteenth book in, and pulled out the thousand page, Latin scripted, tome.
Sister Wolfe shuddered at the pentagram etched in gold on the cover and found a desk where she could read it. She flipped open the cover and read the title page: Animus Redimio. Soul Binding.