Author's note: This chapter takes place in season 5, between the episodes "Hammer of the Gods" and "The Devil You Know".
Hell Bent for Leather
Sam and Dean—after riding hell bent for leather all night—passed out in the cheapest motel they could find. They were as far from the Elysian Fields Hotel and its four stars as humanly possible, a distance not often sufficient in their line of work. Thus, when a knock came at their door four hours after the brothers' arrival, a lightly sleeping Dean sprang from bed with his pistol in hand. On the other twin sized, Sam started awake.
Dean padded across the room as softly as the boots still on his feet would allow. Sam retrieved his own gun from the jacket slung across the chair beside his bed. He backed up his older brother as a second knock reverberated through the door.
"Yeah?" questioned Dean in a sleep roughened voice.
A beat of silence passed before a contrastingly female voice answered. "I am a friend to Castiel. He is here with me, but he rests in order to recover from his ordeal. Please, may we come in?"
Dean glanced to Sam for his opinion. The younger brother shrugged his consent before retrieving the colt from his backpack. Dean waited for Sam to make sure a round was loaded before he opened the door as far as the chain would allow.
And closed it again, just as deliberately. "Dude, I think if there were an angels and demons version of punk'd, we'd be on it right now. And I am too tired for crazy." He emphasized with a wave of his gun.
Sam's brow turned up into a U of confusion. "What?"
Dean did not answer. Instead, he waved for his brother to go and see for himself.
Sam looked put-upon as he crossed to the door. "Step back." He commanded through two inches of cheap wood. Sliding the chain free, he came face to face with the woman his brother had been unable to describe.
Their lives necessitated a certain level of calmness in the face of the unexplained. However, that strangeness usually came in the form of archangels, something Sam had half expected to find when he opened the door.
Instead, a petite young woman with short purple hair waited on the other side. With her was an unconscious Castiel, slung across her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Sam raised an eyebrow at the odd sight.
The woman took two careful steps back as Sam hesitated.
"I am sure this scene will attract attention in a short while." The young woman intimated with some urgency. A curtain flickered shut a few doors down, emphasizing her point.
Sam circled behind her, his gun trained at her head. Dean came into the doorway as his younger brother checked Castiel's pulse. It was weak but there. Sam nodded, and Dean stepped to the side, the colt still trained at their unknown visitor.
The brothers' edginess palpable, she walked very slowly into the room before placing Castiel gently upon the bed Sam had vacated. Then, she raised her hands into the air before turning around to face the hunters. Sam followed her in, closing the door behind them.
She smiled tentatively at the pair. "I truly am Castiel's friend, and I would not harm you."
"No offense," replied Sam. "But we've met Cas's other friends, and they're…"
"Dicks." Dean finished for him.
"Dicks." Sam agreed.
The woman did not bother to argue or equivocate. She simply stood there, her gray eyes unblinking.
Only the sound of a drunken couple entering the room next door broke the silence.
"Okay," Dean dropped his arm to his side, gun still aimed. "You see, I had a whole day planned around bacon cheeseburgers and busty Asian beauties, and after last night, I think I deserve it. So, whether or not you are here, that day is going to start in about five minutes."
"Ugh." Sam looked disturbed by his brother's revelation. "I think what he means to say is: thanks for bringing Cas back, but you really need to leave, now."
The woman looked back at Castiel before answering. "Alright, but you should call me if there are any problems."
Dean's arm shot back up as the young woman reached into her jacket pocket. She did not flinch as she removed a card, bending slightly to place it on the bed next to Castiel.
"You got a…" name, Dean was about to ask, but she had disappeared.
"Angels." He, instead, commented in disgust.
Sam picked the card up from the bed. He studied it for a moment, a puzzled look appearing on his face.
"Spit it out, Sammie," griped the overly tired Dean.
"Look at this." He passed the heavy paper card to Dean. "There's no name, no address, nothing but a six digit number."
284362, it read.
"Gee, Sam, it's really interesting that the weird, Goth, angel girl has a weird, Goth, angel number and all, but it's five freakin' a.m. So, how about we stash Cas in the bathtub and get some sleep?"
"No burgers and porn?" Sam quipped, equally amused and appalled.
Dean smiled gamely as he tugged Cas off the bed by his feet. Sam barely managed to catch Cas's arms before the angel hit the ground.
"I'll get around to it, don't you worry, Sammie."
Groans emanating from the bathroom awakened Sam.
"Dean!" He shouted in anger. "I thought you were joking."
Dean spoke from the other bed, startling Sam. "Sammie, I will shoot you, if you don't be quiet. Go check on Cas."
Dean was face down on the bed, a pillow wrapped around his head to muffle outside noise. The older brother had not slept adequately in quite some time, and it was beginning to show.
A touch of worry appeared on Sam's face as he replied. "Sure."
He slipped from the bed to the bathroom in silence, closing the door behind him with a muffled snick. A flip of the switch revealed Castiel still unconscious in the bathtub. Though, the angel seemed to be sleeping now, as he was having a nightmare.
In his mind, Castiel was still stuck in the vortex into which his spell had sucked him. He fully expected the Enochian symbols carved into his chest—with a vast supply of blood to power the spell—to keep him and the other angels trapped until he was fully exsanguinated. An unpleasant situation, at best.
An ethereal figure appeared, though, healing his wound and removing him from the crushing blackness. Thus, the end of the spell allowed Castiel to slip into a more restorative darkness.
Still, Cas's mind wondered at who had rescued him. She appeared familiar, yet changed enough since he had last seen her that he doubted his summation. Indeed, if it was who he suspected—and he did not want to think the name even to himself—the reasons behind her help were unfathomable to Castiel. She had been in Hell for many centuries, after all.
Perhaps Satan wanted Castiel to ally with him, as Raphael suggested?
Sam, unaware of Cas's inner thoughts, reached to shake the angel from his troubling dreams. However, Castiel shot upright in the tub just before Sam's hand made contact, causing the young hunter to jump back.
"Cas." Sam balled his hand into a fist, relieving some of his extra adrenaline. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "How are you feeling?"
Cas took a moment to survey his surroundings before turning to answer Sam in his deadpan and literal way. "Drained. I have lost a great amount of blood."
"Right, yeah, of course..." Sam replied, a little awkward as he had no idea what might aid an angel in recovery. "Uh, we have some orange juice, if you think that might help…and I'm through with the bed."
"No." Cas stated as he stared, completely still, at a tile on the wall in front of him. "I think it best if I do not move, as of yet."
"Alright, I'll just be out here, then." Sam said, gesturing with his thumb to indicate the main room. "Should I leave the light on?"
Cas's eyes were closed, and he did not respond. So, Sam took that as a sign to turn the light off on his way out.
He leaned against the door as he considered his brother, feigning sleep in the hopes that it would arrive. Sam felt the two would be safe enough for the time it took him to walk across the street. The gas station, after all, was sure to offer an unoccupied bathroom and a pre-packaged breakfast. Sam shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed his jacket, locking the door behind him on the way out.
As soon as he was gone, the purple haired woman from hours previous appeared next to Dean. She laid her hand on the hunter's back, sending him instantly into a deep and rejuvenating sleep. Next, she walked over to the bathroom door, rapping softly on it with her knuckles.
"Castiel?" She called.
When no answer was forthcoming, she cracked open the door.
"Ariel." Castiel greeted the young woman. "What are you doing out of hell?"
The Archangel smiled, opening the door fully. "That's only one of my names, Cas. But, yes, I'm back from hell. I think I've accomplished all that is possible there." She looked at Cas meaningfully. "The game has moved to earth, now."
"And what side of the…game is it that you are on, Ariel?" Castiel inquired. He stood and moved into the doorway, scanning the outer room to assess the Winchester's statuses. The sight of Dean sleeping peacefully reassured Castiel, somewhat. The angel quickly focused his gaze back on the gray eyes in front of him.
She answered his unasked question. "Samuel is across the street, purchasing what is possibly the worst breakfast in creation." Ariel seemed hurt by Castiel's worry, though she covered it with humor.
"Ariel." Castiel said sternly, denoting that she had not answered the question.
The archangel crossed her arms, giving up her unaffected pretense. "Don't be like that, Cas; don't force me into this false dichotomy of yours. I am doing what is right, and that doesn't always involve kowtowing to heaven. Even you seem to know that, now."
Castiel's jaw tightened and his gaze moved beyond her.
Ariel sighed. "I am here to offer your powers back, Cas," She finally answered him, "and many more, besides."
"That is not possible." He stated matter-of-factly. "You rebelled against our lord and father; you have barely more power than I."
Ariel rolled her eyes. "I never rebelled, Cas. Abdiel simply had an over-fondness for throwing me into hell." She shrugged. "I saw no reason to stop him. Heaven was no place to be during the war."
"Abdiel…" Castiel began angrily.
"…did not approve of the free reign I enjoyed in all kingdoms." Ariel interrupted. "Why he assumed I would stay in hell is the real mystery. Though, I suspect he thought as you do—that I would be stripped of my powers."
"And why has that not happened, Ariel?" Castiel questioned disapprovingly.
Ariel leaned toward Castiel, the archangel's intensity conveying that this was her real point. "I lost no power, Castiel, for—as Lucifer and I now know—we are separate from heaven. We can even gain power outside of the hierarchy. That is how he has defeated so many of the gods and angels…even Gabriel." The last part of her sentence was hushed with pain.
Castiel seemed shocked by the revelation—both of Satan's new source of power and Gabriel's death.
Ariel let her temptation hang in the air.
"Not only will I return your powers, I will aid in the Winchester's plan to once more trap the devil in his cage." She persuaded, hearing the jingle of Sam's keys outside the door. "Think about it."
Ariel vanished just as Sam entered the room. The youngest Winchester saw Ariel only for a second, but it was enough to pull him forward to check on Dean.
Cas held out a hand to stop him. "He is sleeping, as he will be for some time."
Sam stepped back, wiping a hand over his face as if that would rid him of his worry.
"Who the hell was that, Cas, and what's she done to Dean?" asked Sam.
Castiel dropped his arm, only partially concentrating on what he was saying to Sam.
"That was the archangel Ariel," revealed Cas. "She has laid hands on Dean."
Sam waited for Castiel to continue. When it was clear the angel planned to say nothing more, Sam questioned him again.
"Will he be alright?" Sam took an annoyed step forward. "Do the other angels know where we're at?"
"I believe…" Cas began, debating what he would say. "Ariel is a friend. If I am right, then Dean should only be resting and no other angels know our location."
Sam appeared less than comforted by Cas's summation. The angel continued before Sam could say anything more, however.
"I must go." Castiel vanished, leaving Sam and Dean alone so that he could go and check into Ariel's claims.
Sam had to wait until nighttime for Dean to wake up. When Dean finally did regain consciousness, they hit the road in the impala—where Crowley would later appear with a proposition.
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