Dean sat up slowly in the bed where Sam had placed him, no more than a couple of hours before. Crowley smiled, excited by the possibilities this turn of events promised. Dean felt strong, powerful and angry, overwhelmingly angry. He turned his head and looked at Crowley. Just seeing the smug grin on his supposed kings face caused his anger to boil over into blind rage. He was off the bed, on his feet and had his would be master, pinned to the wall quicker than he imagined possible. With Deans forearm press tightly across his throat, Crowley struggled to speak.
"Wow, down boy," he croaked, but despite the situation, he found that he was immensely proud of Dean's show of strength. "I'm on your side, Dean. We're playing for the same team now." Dean wasn't about to listen to anything the limey bastard had to say and was planning to snap his neck in response, when the smile on Crowley's face widened. "Sorry Dean gotta go," he said before he disappeared.
Alone in the room, Dean's breathing was heavy, he was livid, having been robbed of the chance to tear Crowley apart. He instinctively knew what he was, he could feel it, right through to his core. He was no longer human, no longer a Winchester. He was violence, darkness and chaos. He was everything he had despised, everything he had hunted. He was evil but he was surprised to find he really didn't mind. This was better, sure he was consumed with anger and craved to see the life slip away from some ones eyes, by his hand, but he felt no fear, no guilt, and no self doubt. He knew what he was and he knew what he needed to do to feel better, to take the edge off. It was simple and right now he was enjoying simple. He looked down at his hand still gripping the First Blade and felt its strength rushing through him. He glanced around his room, his eyes still black, and saw the world differently. Colours, although not gone, were duller, muted like looking through dark glasses or tinted windows. There was nothing left here for him, nothing he needed or wanted.
"Impeccable timing as always Moose," Crowley said, as he popped into existence in the centre of a Devils trap, however, Sam wasn't in the mood for any of Crowley's banter.
"Shut the hell up! You don't speak, you bastard," Sam hissed. "Say another word and I'll drive this through your throat." Crowley eyed the angel's blade that flashed in the taller but younger Winchester's hand and although he wasn't in the least bit intimidated he remained quiet. "You did this," Sam growled. "You got him tangled up with the mark. You got him killed. And now you are going to fix it. Bring him back. I don't care what the terms are, deal, now!" Sam demanded. Crowley continued to remain silent until Sam prompted him with an impatient "Well?"
"Oh right, I'm allowed to speak now, am I?" He replied sarcastically. "You know, it's funny, I was only saying, not five minutes ago, how you Winchesters have become so predictable. I suppose if you are going as long as you two have its inevitable that you would at some point rehash the same story line. But you two don't seem to have another dance move. Oh no he's dead, better try and sell my soul, again."
"Enough small talk, Crowley. Dean. Alive. Now!" Sam yelled at the demon.
"Sorry Sam, no can do. No deal can help your brother now," he replied matter of factly, to which Sam erupted.
"Don't play games with me, you son of a bitch. You are the God damned, now uncontested, King of hell, thanks to us. You owe us. You can and you will bring him back." Sam demanded. For the first time that night, the amused look left Crowley's face.
"First off 'Sammy', let's get one thing straight, I'm the king of hell, once again, thanks to your brother, yes, but in spite of you. You did nothing but cause the weakness that allowed me to lose control in the first place, you and your pointless trials." Crowley yelled. He paused, composing himself once again before he continued. "So you, I owe you nothing. Well perhaps a little pay back but certainly not my help."
"You slimy bastard!" Sam spat as Crowley shrugged his shoulders. "King of Hell, Leader of the Underworld, Demon. Any of these ringing a bell?" Sam tossed the angel blade from one hand to the other. "I guess you are of no use to me then," he said, stepping forward. Crowley raised his hands in defence.
"Look, it's not that I won't make a deal, it's that I honestly can't," he tried to explain.
"Bull!" Sam snapped.
"I'm not lying, Sam, no deal can help him now. I can't bring someone back to life that isn't dead, technically dead anyway." A sly smile slid across his face.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked, afraid to believe that what he was hearing was true.
"Your brother is not dead, Moose. He has, how do I put this delicately, he has switched alliances so to speak, he's playing for 'Team Crowley' now." Crowley was enjoying this more that he had expected, the lost puppy dog look on Jolly Greens face as the realisation set in was too much to bare. "And boy, does he wake up cranky!" Crowley added, but Sam was gone before he could finish his sentence. "I'll just wait here then," he shouted after him, looking at the trap beneath his feet.
Sam tore through the bunker and into Dean's room only to find it empty. Turning quickly he ran back down to the study, but there was no sign of Dean. Looking up, he could see the main door was wide open, his brother long gone. Sam's hands automatically went to either side of his head. He looked around the room in desperation, not knowing what to do or how to feel. His brother might be alive, might be a demon, and might be neither of those things. All he knew for sure was that Dean was missing and that Crowley was going to start talking or he was going to kill him, slowly.
Before heading back down to the demon, Sam tried every number he had for Dean but none led to a response. He prayed to Cas, not knowing if he was alive or dead either and got the same result. The last thing the wanted was to face Crowley again, he was exhausted physically and mentally, running on fumes from an equal mixture of coffee and whiskey, but right now he had no other options. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before venturing back to his captive.
Dean had left his room with the full intent of finding the voices he could hear yelling at each other somewhere in the bunker and allowing his blade to silence them, giving it the fix it was desperately yearning for. However as he had drawn nearer the sound something in him, something very small, but still human, still Dean pleaded with him to leave, told him that he needed to put distance between himself and his brother. Part of him still existed that didn't want Sam to be the first, of many, to feel the effects of the mark or his new lust for death and destruction. So he turned and he ran, clearing the bunker just as Sam was running into his room.
Dean continued running, fighting the hunger inside him. He didn't stop, not once, for fear of losing the small amount of self control he had found. He had been running for over an hour, never tiring, never slowing. He ran with no destination in mind, the only two thoughts in his mind locked in battle for control. On one hand he desperately wanted to, not just kill, but completely destroy someone, anyone, human, angel or demon, it didn't matter. He was sick with the need for it.
On the other side, his human side, he knew that he needed to find somewhere isolated, away from those he cared about or it would be them that would feel their flesh tear under the pressure of his Blade. The longer he ran the more the population around him decreased, until, satisfied that he was in a remote enough area, he slowed. Looking around he found himself on a dark county road in the middle of nowhere. A quick decision took him off the road and into a heavily wooded area to his left. He began to run again, continuing deeper and deeper into the wilderness, until the sun started to rise behind him.
In the morning light he could see an old cabin on the horizon. Little more than a one room shack, clearly abandoned. He didn't need to rest, but he could do with somewhere to clear his head and try to get his thoughts together. He slowed as he approached it. Part of him hoping it was indeed empty. But the now stronger desire was that there was some poor soul inside that he could slowly and mercilessly drain the life from. He was still battling his conflicting wishes as he entered the cabin and he honestly couldn't tell how he felt on discovering that it was in fact empty.
The place looked like it hadn't seen a soul in decades and consisted of nothing more than the four walls he could see from the outside. The small dirt track that led to the cabin had long since overgrown with weeds. Inside a thick layer of dust covered the floor. He wasn't the least bit tired but for want of anything better to do he sunk to the ground and sat with his back resting against the far wall. His mind, the Blade and the Mark were all screaming at him. He was all too aware what would silence them taking all of his self control to fight against what now felt a base instinct. Death, destruction, pain and sorrow were all he craved.
Sam rejoined Crowley, "Ok, start talking, where is he?" He demanded.
"From here, I have no way of knowing," Crowley admitted. Sam said nothing, an idea forming in his head. He walked over to the shelves behind him, selected a couple of items and then laid them out on the floor in front of the devils trap. He rolled open a leather pouch that still contained vials of his blood. "Wow, hold it there Hulk, I'm clean, back on the wagon," Crowley said, clearly fazed by the sight of Sam's blood. Sam looked up at Crowley.
"It's not for that," he said as he emptied two vials into a metal bowl. "But good to know I have some leverage," he said coldly as he stood up and offered the bowl to the demon. "All points bulletin. I want every one of your scumbag demons looking for Dean, to be brought back here to me, unharmed, " he instructed.
"Look Sam, yes I can do that, but no demon on my payroll will be able to bring him in, not if he doesn't want to. Let me out of here, I'll have everyone I own, demon or otherwise, looking for him. But bringing him in, I'm the only one with a hope of talking him down," Crowley explained.
"You think I am going to let you near him, not a chance. You're staying right here," Sam replied.
"A deal then, Sam, you know I can't break a deal. No soul, just my freedom for your brother. I will bring him in if I can, straight to you," Crowley bargained. Sam weighted up his options and to his dismay found he had none.
"If you can't find him or if you can't bring him in, I'll have you back in this trap and so full of my blood you will think you were born a Winchester. You got that?" Sam threatened, as he used the angel blade to scrape a line through the trap before he had a chance to second guess his decision. Crowley didn't hang around, without another word was gone.
Sam was now totally alone, more alone than he had been at any other point in his life. He wasn't an idiot and didn't trust Crowley an inch but what other choice did he have, there was no one else to turn to. He had no idea what to do next. For the first time in years, he let his anger and frustration finally take over. He turned from where he stood to the shelves behind him. In one motion, he swept its entire contents to the floor. Feeling no better for it he moved on to the shelf below. Folders, boxes and jars were thrown across the room. Each crash or smash failing to be the release he so desperately needed. When there was nothing left to destroy he sunk to his knees and in a moment of pure desperation he wept. He cried for his loss, for his pain, for his brother. It was at this, his weakest and darkest moment the angel finally appeared behind him. Castiel said nothing, simply places a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam turned and on seeing his friend, for a moment wept a little harder. Cas stood there, remaining silent until Sam regained control and could stand again.
Dean had been sitting in the cabin for hours, motionless except for his grip on the Blade, his hand tightening and loosening. Still his gaze was drawn to it over and over again. With it, image after image of what he could be doing with it flashed through his head. The longer he sat there, the more consumed with blood lust he became. He knew the pain and the sickness he was feeling could be cured with a slice from his Blade. His anger grew once again into rage, his rage into something new, something bigger, and something more powerful that he had ever experienced before. Convinced now that if he didn't act on what he desired and act on it quick the only outcome would be his own death. It was now a matter of self preservation. He was about to get up and leave the cabin in search of someone to take the edge off on when he heard it, the crunch of gravel under tyres further up the overgrown road. Any shred of humanity left him in an instant, his eyes flashed to black. Even devoid of colour the hunger he felt could be clearly seen in them, a hunger that he was about to feed.
A sickly smile took over Dean's face as he watched, through a crack in the old door, a beat up flat bed truck round the corner and pull up into clearing outside the shack. He couldn't believe his luck; the urge within him was so strong now that he never once questioned why someone would show up here, now, to a cabin that obviously hadn't seen another visitor in years. He could see the driver before she left the truck. He watched her look at the cabin, frown and then, fruitlessly, recheck her sat-nav. She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, pretty but unkempt. Short messy black hair and an old faded black t-shirt. Not that any of that mattered to Dean, all he cared about was that she was breathing now and soon she would not. She grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and jumped out of the truck. Swinging it over her shoulder she headed towards the cabin door. Dean could feel his heart speed up in anticipation of what he was going to do to her. He took a step back and positioned himself in the shadows. She opened the door and entered without hesitation; this girl was either expecting the place to be empty or was completely fearless. From his vantage point, without thinking, Dean instinctively flicked his hand. Immediately an invisible force, acting on his behalf, picked her up and threw her against the far wall where she remained suspended, her feet dangling at least a foot off the ground. Dean hid his surprise at his new found ability and without faltering advanced upon her.
"Lady, this is really not your lucky day," he said through gritted teeth. He was going to take his time with this, savour every last minute. He wanted; no, he needed to see her blood slowly spill into pools on the floor. He raised his Blade but paused when she spoke his name.
"Dean Winchester, I presume," she said, somewhat winded but by no means fearful, a fact that mildly irked Dean, still however, he held no curiosity as to why she was here or even how she knew his name. When he didn't reply she tried again. "Look, I'm here to help you, how about you hear me out before you gut me?" Her speaking and blatant lack of fear where really beginning to annoy Dean; ruining what should have been a perfect moment, a moment he had been fantasising about since he woke up. He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of her, his eyes level with hers. "Oh come on," she continued. "You're Dean Winchester, right? The Dean Winchester who, supposedly, held out under Alistair's knife for nearly thirty years. The same Dean Winchester who fought his way through and out of purgatory. Surely, you of all people, should be able to hold off a little demonic bloodlust for long enough to hear me out?" Dean inched closer to her, clearly angered by her incessant speaking. In what was little more than a whisper, he hissed.
"How about you shut the hell up, you stupid bitch." He grabbed her roughly by the chin in an effort to prevent any further comment. The affect was immediate, as soon as his hand made contact with her face, the black veil disappeared from his eyes. The anger, the need kill began to weaken and finally his demon side waned enough until he was, not wholly, but more human Dean than demon Dean. More human in fact than he had felt in weeks, since he had accepted the mark. Dean withdrew his hand and the demonic force that held the girl to wall released her. She landed on her feet, stood for a moment, looking up at him. Dean could see black fill her eyes. She smiled warmly at him.
"Now, isn't that better?" She said wearily, before dropping to her knees. Dean watched as her body tensed as she seemed to struggle to regain control. She tried to give him a reassuring grin, to let him know she was going to be ok, but instead she doubled over at his feet. He knelt next to her to try and help but she gently pushed him away. "Just give me a second, I'll be okay," She said forcing the words through obvious pain.
Sam had never been so relieved to see the angel. "You're alive, we... I mean, I-I didn't know if you made it, I thought you might be dead." Sam's words spilled out, he stepped forward and hugged the angel. Castiel returned the embrace, reading Sam and the situation correctly yet still not quiet understanding the human need for tactility. "Is it true?" Sam asked, releasing him.
"I'm sorry Sam. I do not know what truth you are referring to," Cas replied.
"Dean, is he a demon? Is he a Knight of Hell?" Sam asked impatiently. Castiel frowned.
"I'm confused, I was informed he was… dead," He replied.
"He is, was, I don't know for sure. You're an angel, can't you tell, sense it or something?" Sam asked.
"Heaven has been shut for sometime; it's still not fully open or functional. The veil is awash with lost souls, too many for us to get a clear picture of who is who," Cas explained and then realising what Sam had said, back tracked. "Wait, what do you mean 'was'?" Sam may have gotten control of his emotions but he was still frantic for answers and wanted to get the angel up to speed as quick as possible.
"He's gone. I don't know how or where. Crowley said…" Castiel cut him off at the mention of the demon.
"Crowley?" He said disapprovingly.
"Yeah, Crowley," Sam said defensively. "I had no where else to go. Dean was gone, you were MIA. What was I supposed to do?" Cas dipped his head in shame.
"I am sorry Sam, I got here as soon as I could."
"You're here now," Sam replied quickly, not willing to waste time hearing Castiel's excuses. "Anyway, Crowley said Dean was, well, I don't know for sure, He said he was awake and had gone dark side." Sam's voice betrayed his panic. The angel thinned his lips.
"I was afraid something like this might happen," Cas muttered, to which Sam erupted.
"What? You knew this was going to happen and you said nothing?"
"I didn't know for sure and if I was right there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it, not once Dean had accepted the mark anyway," Cas attempted to explain himself.
"For Gods sake Cas, if I had known it was even a possibility I would have stayed with him, taken precautions, kept him here, at the very least." Sam was livid. "Not have him out on the wind. Who knows what he is doing out there." He stepped closer to the angel and prodded him in the cheat with his finger. "If he hurts someone, or worse, that is on you, you understand, it's on you, not him." Cas nodded his agreement.
"You're right, I guess I didn't want to admit that it was a possibility, even to my self, let alone you or Dean."
"So you chose to stick your head in the sand, solid plan there Cas, real good," Sam snapped sarcastically.
"I'm sorry Sam, I made a call and it was the wrong one, again. I'm not cut out for the big decisions; I'm not cut out to be in command. I'm a soldier not a leader," Castiel replied. Sam didn't know what the angel was talking about and right now he didn't really care.
"Save your moment of self doubt for another time," he said harshly. "Can you find him? Can you fix him?"
"If he is a Knight of Hell, then no, I can't track him. The knights were gifted with the ability to remain hidden from all angels, bar one, Lucifer."
"Great," Sam said clearly still annoyed at Cas. "Well what about fixing him, can you change him back?" He asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. But if there is a way, on Heaven or Earth, I promise you, I will find it and give you back your brother." Sam gave Castiel as solemn nod; he knew the angel, bad decisions aside, was a man of his word.
"I have Crowley looking for him now. If he finds him, he will bring him back here," Sam informed him.
"And you trust him?" Cas asked.
"Not in the slightest but what else can we do?"
It took her a minute or two but the she was eventually able to right herself, although she still looked pale and drawn. "Sorry about that," she apologised to Dean. "But you packed a bigger punch than I was expecting." She dusted herself off before introducing herself. "Let's try this again. Hello Dean, I'm Faith Patton and I'm pretty sure I've been sent here to help you." She smiled at him, but didn't offer her hand and neither did he. He took a step back. "What are you?" He asked suspiciously.
"I'm not a demon if that's what you're thinking, not an angel or anything like that either. " She replied too vaguely for Deans liking. "Okay, so we have covered what you're not, I'll ask again, what, the hell, are you?" He asked angrily.
"I'm human, just like you, well maybe not you, anymore. Sorry." She fumbled, annoyed at her wording. "I do however, happen to have an ability that I believe, you could benefit from right about now," she added.
"What was that back there, am I still…?" Dean asked, not wanting to say what out loud what he feared but also knowing her answer already.
"No, I'm afraid not, that was just a temporary fix, the darkness will build in you again, over time," Faith said. Dean's mind raced with questions.
"Did Cas send you?" He started with.
"Cas? Oh Castiel, your angel friend, no, I don't know, I don't think so."
"Wait, you don't know who sent you here?" He asked, suspicious again.
"Look, all I know is; about eight hours ago, your name and the coordinates of this place started ringing in my head, over and over again," she stated.
"And what? You just jump in your truck and drive out to the middle of nowhere because a voice in your head told you to? No questions asked?" Dean said in disbelief.
"I'm an Oubliette," Faith replied, as if that would answer all his questions.
"An Oubli-what?" He questioned.
"Shit, sorry, I thought you'd know," she replied, clearly disappointed that she would have to explain further. She was exhausted from calming Dean and could really have done with a couple of hours shut eye. Sighing she continued. "When evil dies, it gets sent to purgatory."
"Yep, been there, done that," Dean commented. Faith looked at him, rolling her eyes.
"Right, but sometimes the evil that dies is deemed, by Heaven, to be too evil, too crafty for even purgatory. When that happens, the big bad get sent to someone like me. My soul is sort of like a super powered compost heap for all things evil." Dean shook his head letting her know that she needed to give him more, that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. "My soul acts like a prison cell for the essence or what ever equates to a soul in the soulless creature that died. My soul takes it in, absorbs the evil and then over a life time or so breaks it down until there is little or nothing left." She paused to let that much sink in.
"But I'm not dead," Dean jumped in. "Not technically anyway, I don't think. How did you do whatever it was you did back there?"
"I guess you could call it a residual effect. It happens to anyone who touches me, demon or human, their rage and anger is drawn out of them and into me, into my soul. You could stick me into the middle of a prison riot and within minutes I could have everyone sitting around holding hands and singing Kumbaya." Faith quietly chuckled at her own analogy as Dean took a minute to process all this before speaking again.
"OK, so if Cas didn't send you, who did?" He asked.
"Sorry Dean I honestly don't know. What I do know is, if I don't get to close my eyes for an hour or so I'm going to fall where I stand." She looked around the shack. "We should get out of here, for one, preferably somewhere I can at least sit down." She shot him a weary smile. "I also think, you need to get in contact with your angel, Castiel. He may be able to help," she added.
"Sam," Dean said, suddenly aware of how worried he must be.
"Your brother?" She replied.
"Yeah, he'll be back at the bunker. We'll head there, I'll drive, you sleep. But when we get there, you are going to answer some questions like how you know so much about me, Sam and Cas," he remarked.
"Hey as long as sleep is involved it sounds like a plan to me," She replied already heading for the door. Dean followed her out; she turned and tossed him her keys before climbing into the passenger seat. Dean hung back, taking out his phone. There were six missed calls, all from Sam. In his rage filled haze he hadn't even heard the phone ring once. Aware of how desperate his brother must be feeling he hit the redial button before putting the phone to his ear.
Sam looked at Cas hopefully as his cell buzzed on the table next to him. He checked the number. "It's him!" He confirmed before answering it. "Dean?" He asked expectantly.
"Hey Sam," Dean replied.
"Dean, are you ok?" He blurted.
"Is that a trick question?" He answered rhetorically and then added, "Pretty far from it, brother. But it looks like I'm still in the game, for now anyway. I'm on my way back to you. Maybe only an hour or two out."
"Dean, Are you a…" Sam trailed off, either unable or unwilling to articulate the question he was dreading the answer to.
"I'm not sure what I am, not human anyway, a demon, maybe a knight." He answered then added quickly, "But I have it under control, for now. I've met someone who seems to be able to help me, I'm bringing her back with me," Dean said cryptically.
"Who? How?" Sam asked.
"Look, I'll explain everything when I get back. In the mean time I need you to try and get in contact with Cas." He instructed.
"He's here with me now." Sam replied
"Good. See what he knows about Oubliettes. I'll be back as soon as I can." Dean ordered.
"Oubli-whats?" Sam replied and Dean allowed himself a smile at what was obviously a typical Winchester response.
"Oubliettes, check the archives too, I'll be with you soon." Dean hung up the phone, leaving Sam with more questions than answers. He climbed into the truck; next to him, Faith was already fast asleep, her head resting against the window.
Sam turned to Cas, a look of disbelief and relief on his face. "He's coming in," he said, placing the phone back on the table.
"Did he say something about Oubliettes?" Cas asked urgently.
"Yeah, you know what that is?"
"Not a what, a who. They are rare, very rare. I've certainly never met one." Cas had a strange glint in his eye and he started to straighten his tie and attempted to brush creases out of his coat. Sam watched him for a minute with a curious confused look.
"Ok Cas, you look fine, what is wrong with you? What the hell is an Oubliette?" He asked again.
"Right ok," the angel replied, some what embarrassed. "Oubliettes are human, but they have special souls, ones acts as a type of container for the worst kinds of evil. Once a being of true malice dies it is imprisoned with the Oubliettes where its soul feeds on the evil, degrading it until there is practically nothing left." Sam seemed a little unsure so Cas thought for a moment before continuing. "The best comparison I can make would be to the Phantom Zone," he added. Sam, still not used to the angels newly found frames of reference, was taken aback.
"As in Superman and General Zod?" He asked.
"Yes, but with the added affect that the longer Zod remained in the Phantom Zone the weaker he would become until he pretty much no longer existed. The power, the evil, the anger and the rage, it all gets stripped away, along with everything else, memories, personality, history, until he doesn't even remember that he ever existed outside the Zone. Its quiet ingenious, there is never any hope of escape as an Oubliettes soul never dies. It simple gets passed from one human host to the next."
"Like reincarnation," Sam suggested.
"In a sense, yes." Cas agreed. I don't know much more. Only an elite few angels were ever entrusted with having a Oubliette in their charge. It is seen as a great honour and shrouded in much secrecy," Cas gushed.
"Ok, rein it in there,Cas," Sam said attempting to bring the angel back to focus. "How can that help Dean?"
"The power of an Oubliettes soul leaks into the human hosts body, allowing them to defuse anger and evil around them. Sort of an internal defence mechanism. Anyone who makes physical contact with an Oubliette has all evil temporally drained from them. If Dean has in fact come across one, his demon side could be kept in check until we find a more permanent solution."
It was a little over an hour and a half later when Dean pulled the truck off the main highway and took the small side road that led down to the bunker. It had only been a couple of hours since Faith had drained him, he was still in control but already feeling the pull of the Blade on him again. His hand reached inside his jacket and rested on the sharp bone. The reassurance it provided him came tainted with a fresh bolt of bloodlust. He glanced over at the still sleeping Faith and imagined how good it would feel to draw the Blades edge across her exposed neck, to see her blood poor down her chest and saturate her top. He pulled his hand back, shocked and frightened at how quickly his mind went to the darkness. He shook her by her shoulder and she reluctantly woke up. "Come on, we're here," he said. He was eager to get inside where there would be others, a distraction from the images still flashing through his head.
Sam and Cas both stood as the bunker door was pulled open.
Dean entered first, closely followed by a still groggy Faith. There was no jovial reunion or welcome. Both the Winchesters maintained an awkward distance from each other. Sam, unsure of who or what his big brother was anymore and Dean, painfully aware that the love he felt for his little brother was now equalled by his desire to rip him apart with his bare hands. It was Castiel who finally broke the silence.
"How are you holding up, Dean?" He asked, also keeping an unusual and obvious distance from his old friend.
"Better," he replied, neither willing nor able to go into greater detail. Faith stepped in and spoke on Dean's behalf, something he was grateful for.
"He's had a pretty rough night. I've been able to take the edge off, somewhat, for now. But it has already started to build again. Right now he is fighting every demonic base instinct inside him." She stepped beyond Dean, approached Sam and Castiel and introduced herself. "You must be Sam, and you, the angel Castiel. It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Faith." Much to Castiel's embarrassment, Sam offered his hand in welcome. Before she could accept, the angel stepped forward and quickly lowered Sam's hand with his own.
"Oubliettes tend to avoid shaking hands, for obvious reasons," he chastised the younger Winchester. "I'm sorry about him," he continued, stepping between Sam and Faith, not having any issue standing uncomfortably close to their guest. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting one of your kind before. It's a true honour."
"Er, thanks?" She replied, more than a little creeped out by the angel's reverence. She took a not so subtle step back, returning to Dean's side.
"I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, but first we need to get our boy here," she placed her hand on Dean's sleeved forearm, "secured in a Devil's Trap, while we still can." Sam and Cas both tensed and looked at Dean, worried how he was going to react to what was being suggested. They had discussed it in his absence but both were reluctant to broche the subject themselves.
"Its okay, she's right. I know I'm a time bomb. Its better I'm contained. And if you're going to do it, it had better be now." He was doing his best to sound non-threatening but his sentence came out more menacing than he would have liked. "Because I promise you, you won't have a hope of getting me in there later." Sam shifted guiltily.
"Ah…, we have a place set up already," He admitted sheepishly. Dean gave him a questioning look. "We hoped we wouldn't need it, but we figured it was better to be safe than sorry. We needed to do something, it was more busy work than anything else," He tried to explain, but he gave up and instead lead the group out a side door. To Dean's surprise didn't head towards the room in the basement where they had kept Crowley. Sam noted Deans reaction.
"It didn't seem right, sticking you in the dungeon, so we did this," he said as he opened the door to one of the many unused bedrooms in the bunker. The majority of the room was taken up with a large Devil's Trap, inside which, was a cot and a small side table with a lamp and Dean's mp3 player. To the left, half in and half outside the circle was a table. One chair conspicuously alone, inside the trap and a couple on the other side, safely outside. Dean looked at Sam incredulously.
"We aren't going to just lock you away, Dean. This is temporary. We will find a way to fix this," Sam promised.
Without a word, Dean unceremoniously stepped across the line into the Devil's Trap. He surveyed the room and gave the bed a little shake. It was securely bolted to the floor, as was everything else inside the circle. "Some busy work," Dean remarked. "But you do realise I don't sleep anymore, don't you Sam?" Sam shrugged, but said nothing. Faith turned to Cas.
"How about we give these two a minute?" She said to the angel and left the room without waiting for a response. Dean said nothing for a minute, and then he noticed that Sam was whispering to himself under his breath.
"Are you trying to exorcise me?" He threw his brother a ridiculing look. "Seriously Sam, I'm not possessed. Do you really think that is going to do anything?" Sam continued the rite, his face telling Dean that he was be willing to try anything. "Besides I tried it on the drive over here. Played the copy you put on my phone." He admitted. "Not so much of a tickle." Sam still said nothing, the physical change in his brother, even now while he jeered him, would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, anyone else but him. He couldn't quiet put his finger on what it was. Dean, although had the potential to be seen as a pretty boy, always had a sternness to him, a hardness that usually counteracted his good looks but now there was something new, an intensity, a coldness in his eyes that made Sam's skin crawl. Put on the spot by Cas and Faith's abrupt exit Sam wasn't sure what he even wanted to say to his brother.
"I'm sorry Sam, about all this, I didn't know." was all Dean could manage, although he wanted to say so much more.
"Yeah, I know me too." Sam replied.
Faith waited until they were out of the Winchesters ear shot before she stopped and turned to Castiel.
"Dean may not be our only problem," she began. Cas looked at her, giving her his full attention, still somewhat in awe of their new found ally. "My soul, it shouldn't be, but it's weakening, has been for some time now. I've been calling my angel for months but she hasn't answered. My soul had been kicking around for over sixty lifetimes, nearly four thousand years and I've never been this weak and she has never gone AWOL before," she explained, fear and concern in her voice. Castiel frowned.
"I may know the reason for that," he remarked. "Heaven has had a lot of trouble lately, it's a long story but the short version is that the doors to Heaven were locked and the angels fell." Faith was shocked.
"What, all of them?" She asked.
"Yes, I'm afraid so, but it could account for your angel going missing and if your soul draws its power from Heaven it too would have been cut off when it went into lock down," Cas explained.
"So, my angel fell, she is out there somewhere, alone?" Faith said panicked. "We have to find her, she is not cut out for a human life," she said.
"We have only just regained control of heaven, angels are returning, but slowly. None the less I will go there now and see if I can locate her. What is her name?" He asked.
"It's Sarah, but that's not her real name. My soul continues on but I am temporary, so she uses a code name to protect her identity, you know after I bite the dust, so to speak," Faith commented.
"We will just have to hope it is enough to go on. I'll return as soon as I can," Cas assured her, turning slightly.
"Wait, Castiel, there's more," she said, unhappy about what she was about to share with him. She dropped her eyes to the floor unsure why she felt so guilty about what she had no control over.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I knew all about the Winchesters and their angel before I was given Dean's coordinates." Cas eyed her suspiciously. "You see, as a demon degrades within me I take on their memories. Learning whatever we can from them, intelligence I suppose. Anyway my latest inmate knew all about you three; it was Sam Winchester who took him down. My prisoner, he holds a serious grudge and there is a lot of history between those boys in there and him."
"Who is it?" Cas asked.
"A high level demon by the name of Alistair, a real piece of work."
"Yes, I am aware of him," Castiel answered sternly.
"Castiel, as my soul weakens he regains his strength, I don't know what will happen if the balance shifts. This is all new ground for me."
"Ok, I had better go. Listen to me, under no circumstances are you to let Dean know who your inmate is. Do you understand?" He warned.
"Better than I'd like to, I've had a first hand account of Dean and Alistair's partnership in hell." Cas nodded and was gone. Faith had hoped she would have felt better having confided her fears in someone else, but the panic she saw in the angels eyes just now only made her worry more.
Crowley had everyone at his disposal either looking for Dean or researching Kings of Hell. He had every intention of returning him to Sam, if and when he found him. But he was going to have a word in his ear before he handed him over. He figured he'd hang around long enough to see his new fledging knight tear apart the Jolly Green Giant before escorting him back to hell to figure out their new relationship. He was excited, if he could control Dean, get him working for Hell, the possibilities were endless. Dean, like Cain, could train him an army of Knights. Allowing Crowley to branch out of Hell and make a bigger, more permanent impact on earth. Hell on Earth; that was the dream anyway. Since his returned to hell however, his mood had quickly gone from excitement to frustration and now to pure annoyance. He was not happy with what he was hearing.
"What exactly are you trying to say?" He yelled at the latest demon to stand in front of him attempting to deliver the information he had the misfortune to uncover.
"Er… ah… It's just that this particular piece of lore suggests that no demon has the power to command a Knight of Hell. Lucifer was an archangel and stronger than any demon." He turned the page and pointed at a paragraph in an attempt to remind his king that this was by no means his personal opinion. "It states here, that only a fallen archangel or a being of equal power and malice may control a Knight of Hell." Crowley stood, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.
"So you're telling me, that I, the God damned King of Hell, am not powerful enough to control a dead, former human, hopped up on juice from a tattoo and a fricken donkeys jaw bone, is that it?" He yelled.
"No sir, I'm not saying that at all, I'm just letting you know what the lore says." The demon spluttered.
"Get out and find me a way of controlling my new knight." Crowley screamed and the demon hurried out, happy to put the large double doors between him and his angry master.
"Bloody angels, never willing to share their toys." Crowley grumbled to himself. He was bitterly disappointed by how this was playing out, but still he held on to the hope that he could convince Dean to side with him anyway. He had cut his teeth as a cross roads demon after all, a born negotiator. Plus they had history; they had bonded over the last year. It was impossible that maybe Crowley, the deal maker extraordinaire, could talk him around, without the need for control over him.
Hannah approached Castiel as soon as reappeared in Heaven. "I'm glad you're back," She said. "Our numbers are growing by the hour as we locate more of our fallen brothers and sisters."
"I'm happy to hear that Hannah, you are doing good work up here," Castiel complimented her. She smiled, happy to have pleased him.
"But there is still much to do and to organise. Now that you are back it will be easier, they will listen to you, they are looking to you for direction," she answered. Castiel looked apologetically at her.
"I'm sorry, Hannah, but I can not stay, there is a situation with the Winchesters and I am needed there. I am here to locate a particular angel and then I must leave again."
"But you are needed here, Castiel, Heaven is not yet fully operational, we need our leader, we need your guidance," Hannah argued.
"On Earth, you were my number two; if you are willing, I hoped you would continue to do so here also," Cas said. It seemed to be enough to placate her for now.
"I would be honoured," she gushed and started to speak rapidly. "There are many thousands of lost souls trapped in the veil, I will send a garrison now and more as we have them to spare," she said delighted with Castiel's show of faith in her. "You said you were looking for an angel. Give me a name and I will get to it personally," she added, still eager to impress him.
"I don't have a name; all I know is that she was charged with an Oubliette. I have her code name, Sarah and nothing else."
"Castiel, you know as well as I do that without an angels name there is no way to track her," Hannah replied.
"I know," Cas agreed bleakly. "I hoped there would be records here that we weren't privy to under the previous regime."
"I don't believe so, Oubliettes identities are a closely guarded secret, it's not something that would be written down." Hannah paused but then her face lit up. "It's a long shot, but perhaps Metatron might know something that could be useful," she suggested.
Hannah had Metatron brought to an integration room where Cas was waiting for him. With his hands and feet in chains, he shuffled to the chair. "Good to see you again Castiel, and so soon," he said as he sat down. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked with a grin.
"I want to know everything you know about Oubliettes," Cas demanded.
"Wow, I don't know what I was expecting but it was not that. A bit random but okay I'll bite. I do know a fair bit about Oubliettes; I guess you could say I wrote the book on them." He was enjoying this, happy to be out of his cell.
"How do I find an Oubliettes angel by only their code name?" Cas asked wanting to speed up this whole affair, he found it difficult to be in the same room as Metatron and not drive his angel blade through his heart, for everything he had done, to Heaven, to his siblings and for what he had done to Dean.
"Slow your roll there Castiel. I have something you want and you have me on chains. I'd be an idiot if I didn't try to use this situation to my advantage." Cas rolled his eyes.
"What is it you want, Metatron?" He asked impatiently.
"I saw what an eternity in a heavenly cell did to Gadreel. I don't want that for me." Cas attempted to interrupt, to tell him that there was no way but Metatron spoke over him. "Now before you jump to conclusions, I know you won't just let me walk out of here, I get that. But you could let me fall," he suggested. "What has this body got left in it? Thirty years tops. Thirty years as a helpless human and then Death. An undignified end, yes, but it seems a better alternative to an eon in that cell."
"That is not an option, you will remain in that cell till the end of time for what you have done," Castiel answered. Metatron nodded, correctly guessing that this would be the angel's response.
"I'm assuming that your interest in all things Oubliette related is due to the fact that during the lock down you've managed to misplace a few thousand angels and now you find yourself in possession of a human prison cell, full of all kinds of nasties, with a lock that is on a count down and you have no idea what to do next," Metatron teased. It annoyed Cas how accurately he had hit it on the nail on the head.
"What is happening out there is no longer a concern of yours," he snapped.
"Okay, how about a freebie then? A show of good faith. A taste of just how helpful I could be to you," Metatron said, he stared at Cas like a teacher trying to tease the correct answer out of a failing student. "Do you know that the relationship between an Oubliette and their angel is held together by nothing more than a stone? No simple stone, mind you. Each angel that is chosen is gifted with a small sacred stone no larger than a pebble, that has been touched by the hand of God. It is this stone and not Heaven, that powers the Oubliette." Castiel tried his best to hold his poker face.
'Damn it!' He thought to himself, he needed his information but he couldn't bring himself to make a deal, not with Metatron. Not the angel who killed Dean and caused him to become the monster he was now. Plus Cas's resent decisions had caused an unfathomable amount of trouble and in turn an equal amount of self doubt within the angel himself. He no longer trusted that he could make the right call. Without saying anything more Castiel got up and left the room. Metatron smiled to himself, he could read the angel like a book. He knew he wouldn't be spending much more time in that small cell.
Hannah followed Castiel out of the room.
"What are you going to do?" She asked.
"I don't know, I really don't like the idea of Metatron loose in the human world," he said.
"But if he was to fall, without his grace he would be next to harmless," she suggested.
"I don't think we should ever consider Metatron harmless," he responded.
"There is something else to consider, another benefit to letting him fall, aside from the information." Hannah added. Cas was unsure of what she was referring to.
"What?" He asked.
"He is a powerful angel, his grace; it could sustain you, indefinitely. I can see you're just about running on empty as it is Castiel and you haven't even begun to look for your grace." Cas could see she had a point.
"I hadn't considered that. See this is the reason I'm glad to have you by my side," he commented.
"So you will take the deal?" She pushed.
"I will need to think on it further." He replied.
"What is there to think about? You get your info and his grace," she tried again.
"I must return to the Winchesters, seek their advice also." Hannah gave him a hurt look. "I am confidant Heaven is in good hands, thank you Hannah." He added.
Dean had barely spoken a word since Faith had rejoined them after Castiel's departure. The three of them had begun to comb through files, in the hope there was something they had missed the first time round. But as time passed, Dean found it harder and harder to concentrate and had eventually abandoned the research altogether. He sat on the edge of the bed playing with the First Blade. Sam and Faith exchanged concerned looks before, finally, Faith addressed Dean.
"I've been thinking," she began. Dean didn't look up from the Blade. "Maybe we should stow that knife, you know for safe keeping." Dean still did look up as he spoke.
"It is safe right here." He replied.
"Right, yeah, it is," she said. "But you see, I can drain you and that's great, but here's thing that bone, it feeds you. It takes your darkness and builds on it. I'd probably have to drain you less often if we were to separate you two," she attempted.
"I said, it's safe where it is," he said, still not meeting her gaze.
"She might have a point, Dean," Sam said stepping in. "I don't see any harm in moving the Blade, at least out of the trap. Give you a little breathing room."
"You don't see any harm? Really Sam, Your track record for not seeing any harm is pretty piss poor, don't you think." Dean snapped, finally looking up. Dean's eyes were jet black. For the first time Sam met his brothers demonic alter ego. "That's what you said when you started chugging down demon juice." He got up and paced the inside of the trap. "Is that what you said after you had your first premonition of sweet Jessica's fiery death. 'Oh I see no harm in this, let's just leave her alone and head off on a road trip with my big bro.'" Sam's heart ached to see Dean like this and to hear the words spurting from his mouth. Dean knew all the buttons to push to really dig in deep to Sam's guilt. He was both speechless and terrified. "Seriously Sam, do you think I would ever take advice from you. You are nothing but one screw up after another. I mean, come on Sam, you have caused more of the evil in this world than you could make up for in a dozen lifetimes," Dean hissed. He was so focused on verbally abusing the giant man-child in front of him, that he never noticed Faith approach him from the side and gently lay her hand on the back of his neck. It was like she had hit an off switch. Dean blinked as if he was just waking up and his eyes returned to their natural green.
"Crap Sam. I'm sorry," Dean said immediately as Faith fell to the floor.
"What the hell?" Sam said. "Is she ok?" he asked, ignoring Dean's apology. Dean crouched next to her.
"Its normal, I think, she should be okay in a minute," Dean answered. But this time it was different, she could feel it.
While she was fighting to gain control of the new evil she had just taken from Dean, she felt a second evil attack her from within. Alistair was using all of his strength to reach outside of her soul. She felt her grip on him slip, just for a moment, but it was long enough for Alistair, with one final push, to take over and manage to speak through her. Her mouth but his voice addressed Dean.
"Hello Grasshopper," he whispered before Faith succeeded in throwing him back into his cell.
"What did she say?" Sam asked.
"I don't know, I couldn't make it out, something about grass maybe," Dean replied. Faith was pulling herself up onto Dean's bed with Sam watching, concerned as her eyes flashed black before returning to normal.
"Are you ok?" Sam asked.
"That wasn't like last time," Dean added. "Did your inmate break loose?" Faith shook her head.
"I think maybe we just left it too long, you were pretty far gone this time," She suggested.
"Or we didn't leave it long enough," Dean added grimly. "Maybe we didn't give you enough time to recharge." Faith rested her elbow on her knees, supporting her head in her hands.
"Either way, Dean, it only proves my point. The Blade, its gotta go." Sam looked at her as if she was insane. She was on the wrong side of the trap to be bringing up this topic again. Dean silently looked at the Blade still in his hand and without turning around he held it out to Sam.
"Take it Sam, before I change my mind." Sam grabbed it without saying a word, in shock as to how easy that was. "There should be a curse box in storage. Bring it up here, we can store it in that, but it stays here, where I can keep an eye on it," Dean ordered, Sam looked to Faith who nodded in agreement. When his brother was gone Dean spoke.
"So what really happened back there?"
"What do you mean?" She answered, fanning ignorance.
"Oh come on don't try and play me. You lost control, maybe only for a second but it happened none the less," he pressed.
"Yeah, ok I did but it's sorted now. He is back where he needs to be and burnt out. I'm pretty sure he just spent the bulk of the strength he had, he doesn't have it in him to try again," she said, doing her best to sound confident even though the experience had scared the crap out of her.
Dean didn't buy or share her false confidence; he had heard what the demon had said loud and clear. He was sure he knew who was riding shot gun in her soul. To Faiths relief, Sam's return put an end to their conversation. He had the curse box and made a show of putting the Blade inside and placed it on a shelf in clear view of Dean. Faith stood.
"If it's okay with you two, I'm going to find an empty room in this maze and sleep for a few days." She exited the room before Dean could question her any further.
"Sam, what I said back there, you've got to believe me, I didn't mean a word of it. I'm so sorry," Dean said earnestly.
"I do and it's okay. Look we've dealt with enough demons to know they go for the jugular every time whether it's true or not." Sam replied, letting his brother know that it was water under the bridge.
Castiel appeared in the doorway.
"Sam, a word," was all he said and was gone off down the corridor. Sam gave Dean an apologetic glance and followed the angel. Dean rolled his eyes in frustration.
"This is total bull," he said to himself.
Cas waited for Sam in the study. "What is it?" Sam asked, joining him.
"I need your advice," the angel replied.
"Ok, well that's a first," Sam remarked.
"Yes, I am trying to not repeat past mistakes and in the absence of your brother I figured you to be the next obvious candidate."
"Nice Cas, thanks," Sam replied sarcastically.
"You're welcome," he responded, obliviously. "Faith's angel is missing and her soul is weakening," he began.
"I think we may have just witnessed that first hand," Sam said. "I'm not sure but it was like her prisoner took control and spoke through her, just now when she defused Dean," he explained.
"What did she say, Sam? Did Dean hear? This is important," Cas asked panicked.
"I couldn't make it out, it was pretty muffled, and I don't think Dean could either. Why?" Sam asked.
"It Alistair, her inmate is Alistair," he admitted.
"What?" Sam replied. "What the hell?" He asked clearly rattled. "It took everything I had to and a boat load of demon blood to put him down and now you are telling me he's here, in the bunker, the only thing between us and him is a weakened Oubliette," he said furious.
"I am aware the situation is less than favourable. That is why I returned to Heaven, to see if I could locate her angel," Castiel said.
"And?"
"And, nothing, I'm afraid," Cas stated. "However I do have another option, I'm just not sure if it is the right thing to do," he explained.
"What you got?" Sam asked, leaning against the table behind him. The angel shifted uncomfortably.
"Metatron," he answered.
"Metatron?" Sam repeated.
"Yes, I have him imprisoned in Heaven but he has information that I need on Oubliettes."
"Wait, what? Metatron's alive? He should be dead. You have him in Heaven and he is still kicking. What the hell Cas? He killed Dean, he's pretty much instrumental in turning him in to a frickin' Knight of Hell, and you let him live," Sam yelled, outraged at the angel's actions.
"I agree with you Sam. But it is more complicated than that. My fellow angels needed to see I was no longer the wrathful Castiel of previous times. To maintain order I had to allow him to live," Cas pleaded for Sam to understand.
"So he'll rot in a Heavenly cell for an eternity, that's something I suppose. " Sam said spitefully.
"That's the thing," Cas began "Faith cannot continue to help Dean without the possibility of completely losing control herself. That would more than likely allow Alistair to gain to upper hand. I need the information Metatron has but he will only give it to me at a price," Cas said, knowing Sam was not going to be happy. "He wants me to allow him to fall."
"No frickin' way," Sam replied immediately.
"Sam, think about this. We need to find Faith's angel or we have no hope of saving Dean." Sam paced the room.
"This is insane, I can't believe we are even considering making a deal with that douche."
"There is more," Cas pressed on eager to get all the bad news out of the way.
"Of course there is," Sam said wearily.
"My stolen grace, it is almost spent. If Metatron was to fall I could take and use his. It is strong enough to power me indefinitely."
"Holy Crap, it's never simple, is it?" Sam said.
"No, I believe it never is," Cas confirmed. "What should I do?" Sam continued to walk the room, running everything through his head.
"I hate this, but its simple; if the roles were reversed Dean would do whatever he had to, to fix me. I have to do the same. If we don't take the deal and we could end up fighting against a demon Dean and Alistair too." Sam frowned "We need to get you and Faith both back up to full power if we have a chance of cleaning up this mess. And if that means letting Metatron walk, I really don't think we have a choice. No matter how much of a bad taste it will leave in our mouths we have got to take the deal," he confirmed.
Dean, alone in the room had nothing better to do but to run through the last forty eight hours again and again. They had been up against the wall before, but this situation, from every angle, looked hopeless. The guilt of what he had said to Sam, also sat heavy on his chest, but yet still he found his gaze drawn time and again to the curse box that housed his Blade. He missed it, regretted giving it up and desperately wanted it back in his hand where it belonged. Although it was only a few feet away with the devils trap between him and it, it may as well still been at the bottom of the ocean.
"How's my favourite Knight doing?" Crowley asked causing Dean to jump.
"You have some nerve showing up here, you son of a bitch," Dean snapped.
"As I tried to explain earlier Dean, I'm here to help you." Crowley walked to the edge of the trap. "Looks like you could certainly use some, no Knight of mine should be penned in like this," he said, motioning to the large circle yet doing nothing about it. "You know, that brother of yours had me searching high and low for you and never had the good manners to let me know that he managed to find you himself. That's just rude, wouldn't you say?" The demon ventured.
"What the hell do you want, Crowley?" Dean demanded, already annoyed by his presence.
"Isn't it obvious? I guess not, becoming a knight didn't make you any less stupid. It's you I want, ya idjit," he said mockingly.
"Don't you dare…," Dean threatened but Crowley interrupted.
"Too much, I know. I knew it myself as soon as I said it," he admitted. Crowley looked Dean up and down, a confused look suddenly on his face. "Hold up. What the hell is wrong with you? You should be rabid by now. How are you still…, well, you?" He asked.
"Who the hell are you?" Faith demanded from behind him. Crowley spun around and smiled.
"The King of Hell, my dear. Save your introductions, I don't care who you are. But my friend here could use a play thing; it must be getting pretty lonely inside that trap." He said as he grabbed Faith by her hair and attempting to throw her to Dean. Her hand instinctively went to his, trying to prevent him from tearing her hair out at the root. As soon as she made contact with him, Crowley drew back. "What in the name of all things unholy are you?" He yelped before retreating back to hell, not waiting for a response.