Till We Have Faces
Author's Note: This story is AT/AH where Castiel appears as Dean is making the deal to bring Sam back to life. In this universe, Castiel is higher up in the angel hierarchy and therefore more powerful and has more freedom (but not all powerful, more info to come in later chapters).
Title comes from a great book by C. S. Lewis.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, and no profit is being made from this story. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintended.
This is my first fanfic so please, be nice!
Summary: What if the angels interfered in the Winchesters' lives earlier? When Sam is killed Dean sells his soul...to Castiel.
Intro:
He kept waiting for Sam to breathe. That's all Dean could think of as he dug a hole for the deal box. He couldn't bury Sammy like Bobby suggested, he wouldn't be able to breathe. His heartbeat taunted him, waiting at the crossroads to make a deal.
"Come on already." Four roads branching out into the night, but no matter where he looked—nothing. "Show your face you bitch!"
"Easy, sugar, you'll wake the neighbors." The red-eyed demon was behind him and his first instinct was to pull his gun and put one right between her eyes. His hand remained where it was, balled into a fist.
The entire time Dean was bargaining with the demon he could almost hear Sam's voice telling him to turn around, that this was one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. Dean ignored the lead feeling in his gut. He had to protect Sammy, that's his job, and that means doing whatever it takes to bring him back.
"I'll give you one year and one year only. So? It's a better deal than your dad ever got."
The hunter balked at the terms; only a year when everyone else got ten was the shit end of the stick and he knew it. The demon feigned a sigh, barely containing her glee; they both knew Dean would take the deal in the end.
"Look, I shouldn't even be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble." She gave a little shrug.
"You're right about that." A gravelly voice interrupted the pair.
Before the hunter could even turn to face the new addition to their little party the crossroads demon shrieked, he spine bowing. Black smoke unfurled from her mouth, the demon trying to escape whatever was being done to its vessel, but some force pushed it right back in, trapping the demon within as the body seemed to burn from the inside out. Within seconds there was only ash, a stain on the loose dirt and gravel road.
"Who the hell are you?" Dean's gun was up, aiming straight for the newcomer's heart. The guy was wearing a rain coat over a rumpled suit, tie askew. With his stoic face and business casual attire, he looked more like an insurance salesman than any demons Dean had hunted before. Didn't mean he wouldn't drop the son of a bitch where he stood.
"That is irrelevant." Blue eyes stared at him intensely, like a bug under glass.
"Yeah, well you just 86'd the demon I was making a deal with so I'd say it's pretty damn important." Dean's adrenaline was pumping, finger tight on the trigger.
"She shouldn't have been making a deal at all. You're...out of her league." For a second it almost seemed like the deranged tax accountant smiled but it must've been a trick of the light. One blink and he was back to blank face.
"Does that make you the floor supervisor? Gotta step in when the drones get out of line?"
"Something like that. Dean Winchester." The man tilted his head in a strange bird-like manner, regarding Dean like he's the crazy one in this situation. "You shouldn't be here."
"If you hadn't ganked that other demon a minute ago I could already be on my way pal." Something about the way the demon's staring at him was making the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand up and do the wave. And when Dean's put off by something he usually shoots first and thinks about maybe asking questions later.
"Since you'll just try to make another deal I might as well step in here." The demon moved closer, ignoring the way Dean's muscles tensed to blow him away. "I offer you the same deal you were going to get. For the return of your brother to this world you get one year and one year only."
Something about this already screwed up situation has Dean's gut churning, but he doesn't have a choice. This is the only shot he's got to bring Sam back, and he's sure as hell gonna take it.
"If you try to weasel your way out, the deal is off. Sam dies and you won't get another chance at this." Is the demon trying to get Dean to reconsider dropping the whole thing? That makes absolutely no fucking sense; demons make deals for souls, that's their SOP.
"Yeah, I got it pal. Now are we gonna seal this thing or what?"
They both move in; the kiss is quick and hard, neither lingering longer than necessary. A huge burst of lightening lit up the night, the familiar smell of ozone in Dean's nostrils as he jumps about a foot in the air. In the split second it takes for his vision to clear, the demon disappears. Not wasting any time, Dean jumps in the Impala and guns it back to the run-down motel where he'd left Sam. He'd never admit to it, not even after downing the better part of a bottle of whiskey, but a part of him is praying with everything he's got that the deal worked, that his brother is alive when he gets there.
Standing on a bridge crossing a sluggish river, Castiel watched the taillights fade in the distance. One brief meeting with Dean Winchester and the man already hates him. That could have gone better, but it is of little consequence now. Castiel has what he came for. The contract for Dean's soul.
When Bobby Singer opened the door and found Sam and Dean standing on the stoop his first thought was that he was losing it, gone bat shit crazy. Too much time as a hunter can do that to a person—that or they live holed up in a bunker thinking every traveling salesman and girl scout is an escaped convict from hell. But then again most of 'em don't live long enough to have to worry about dementia.
His second thought was that something must be possessing Sam's body; a demon, maybe a shape shifter or any number of those tricky beasts they kill on a daily basis. No, not possible, Dean would've put Sam through the usual tests—silver, holy water, the whole nine yards. Which left only one possibility.
As Sam thanked Bobby for patching him up and Dean couldn't quite meet the older man's eyes he knew he was right. Dean had made a deal.
"You stupid ass, what did you do? What did you do?" Dean and Bobby had left Sam inside researching while they went to grab some more books out of the truck. Hoped against all evidence to the contrary that Dean's got something other than rock lyrics and favorite shots from Busty Asian Beauties between his ears. "You made a deal, didn't you? For Sam. How long did they give you?"
"Bobby...," Dean sighed, knowing the man wouldn't give up until he answered. "One year. I got one year."
"Dammit Dean! I could throttle you!" Bobby was equal parts pissed and devastated. He'd already lost John, then Sam and now Dean was next.
"And send me downstairs ahead of schedule? We gotta find this yellow-eyed son a bitch and kill him; I got nothing left to lose now, right?" Dean's got that 'nothing you say is gonna change my mind' look on his face. And no matter how much Bobby wanted to crack him over the head with a liquor bottle, he knew the kid was right.
"Alright, ya idjit. Kill yellow eyes and then we're gonna find that demon you made a deal with and kill the bitch before your contract comes due."
"Dean. What...?" The pair turned to find Sam not too far away and Bobby wanted to throttle Dean again. He'd obviously not told his brother what he'd done, and that's just gonna lead to hours of whining and attempted heart-to-heart chats.
Sam looked like he's about to start in when a foreign sound had Bobby grab the boys and duck behind a rusted clunker. Couple of heartbeats later he caught the intruder, shocked into silence for the first time in years when he realized who's looking back at him.
"Ellen? Oh, god."
Several hours later the four hunters were bruised, battered, and generally look like shit, but they all made it out of the cemetery in one piece. Jake, the guy who killed Sam, is dead and Dean—with help from John Winchester's spirit—had killed the yellow-eyed demon, bringing an end to decades of pain and a relentless bid for revenge.
But they hadn't been in time to stop the opening of the Devil's gate, and now hundreds more demons were unleashed, an army of them free to massacre humans and gather souls.
"Hope to hell you boys are ready," Bobby grunted, loading his gear into his truck alongside Ellen. "'Cause the war has just begun."
"Starting with us finding the demon that Dean made a deal with." Sam was having a hard time coming to grips with what his brother had sacrificed for him. Why couldn't Dean understand that he didn't have to give his life to protect his younger brother?
"That could be a problem, he wasn't your average crossroads demon."
"How so?" Bobby's got that glint in his eye. He and Sam might look worlds apart but Dean knows they both cream their pants when something new and undiscovered pops up.
"He fried the first one that showed up. Burned her from the inside out without even moving." Dean raised an eyebrow at the questioning looks. "Said my soul was out of her league and he was stepping in."
"Well that's unusual, must be someone high up on the food chain." Ellen was resting against the truck's back bumper, shredding a spare shirt to use as makeshift bandages until they got to a motel.
"Doesn't matter," Sam cut in. "We'll find the bastard."
"Well then." Dean nodded, put the Colt in the trunk of the Impala and closed it. "We got work to do."