Part II
Castiel lifted the lid of yet another crate and scrunched his nose up. He picked up a grotesque ritual mask that looked to be made of actual human skin, grimacing at the gaping, macabre mouth.
"Lucifer always did go for shock value," he muttered.
Anna looked up from the container she was rifling through, mouth twisting at the mask. "He liked the attention."
"So did Gabriel, but he was never so vulgar." Castiel tossed the mask into the corner of the underground crypt.
Anna had discovered this one's location after interrogating several demons, and she and Castiel had been going through its contents for hours now, with nothing to show for it. This cache didn't even have weapons they might take back to the compound to at least show Gabriel that it hadn't been a waste of time. Castiel was getting more and more frustrated.
His gaze idly slid over where he'd chucked the mask, and stopped when he noticed something else on the floor beside it. Frowning, he moved away from the crate and went over to pick the item up. It was a book. Odd that it should be lying on the floor and not in a proper place on a shelf or in a storage container.
Castiel opened it to the middle. It was a journal of some kind, hand written. He started flipping through the pages, and stopped when his eyes caught a glimpse of what looked like a ledger. There was a list of dates and names…
November 2nd, 1983.
Sam Winchester.
Castiel froze. That was the date Azazel had come into Sam's room, the date their mother had been killed walking in on the demon feeding her son its blood.
Castiel frantically skimmed the rest of the names. There was Jake Talley, too. So this must be a list of the special children.
"Anna."
He heard a clatter as she set down whatever she was looking at to come over. "What is it?"
"Azazel's notes on his 'special children,' it would seem," he replied.
She let out a soft gasp. "There's so many. Does it say what their purpose is?"
Castiel turned the page, tracing a finger down the long list of names until it stopped at the bottom of the page and switched to something about a ritual. But the next page over was completely blank. Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach. Several pages of the journal had been torn out.
"Someone's gotten here before us," he said. With Azazel and Lilith dead, someone else must have taken up their mission.
Anna reeled back. "Then we have nothing to go on."
Castiel's jaw clenched. No! They kept coming so close yet were constantly thwarted at every turn.
"Wait," he said, straightening abruptly. "We might be able to see what the last page said."
Anna quirked a confused look at him. "How?"
He cast his gaze around for what he needed, and snatched up a piece of charcoal from a shelf. Laying the journal on a flat surface, he began to lightly rub the charcoal across the page. He'd seen this trick performed on an episode of some show Dean had made him watch once.
As the charcoal smeared across the paper, indentations left in white slowly appeared.
Anna leaned over to get a closer look. "I'm impressed."
"Apparently television can be good for something," Castiel remarked as he narrowed his gaze on the words that had been revealed. This section was long past whatever ritual the special children were intended for, but this last bit appeared to be a spell for locating them when the time came. Castiel felt a quick surge of relief that the warding he'd placed on Sam's ribs would conceal him from it.
"The ingredients for that spell are all in here," Anna said. "Should we try to find some of these people?"
Castiel nodded. "I don't know what ritual they're meant for, but we can be assured it won't be anything good."
Anna's mouth thinned into a grim line at that, and they fanned out to gather the items required for the spell—herbs, sulfur powder, the calcified digits of a lizard's toes. Once they were ready, Anna mixed the ingredients in a bowl while Castiel picked out a name to search for. Since Jake Talley was dead, he figured they should try for the name below his, in case whoever was behind this would be going in order.
But when they performed the spell, nothing happened. The ingredients didn't even smoke and smolder with an ignition.
"Maybe we're missing some components from another page," Anna said.
"Or the person we're trying to find is already dead." Castiel picked a name three lines down and said the incantation for the spell again, focusing his intent on this person.
The mixture in the bowl popped with a puff of smoke, and Castiel felt a ping in his consciousness. He lifted his head. "Found one."
He quickly stuffed Azazel's journal inside his jacket as he and Anna strode out of the crypt and leaped into the ethereal slipstream. Castiel led the way through its currents until they exited into a densely wooded area in northern Michigan. He froze at the sight before them.
A young woman's body lay on the ground with a figure kneeling over her, his back turned to the angels. He was elevating one of her arms as blood from her slit wrist poured into a glass container that was already almost full.
No.
Castiel took a step forward, leaves crunching under his feet, and the figure whirled around, his one white eye standing out against his dark complexion. Castiel's jaw slackened in stupefaction. "Uriel?"
The angel dropped the young woman's arm and rose to his feet, the jar of blood in one hand. His lip curled in a silent snarl.
Castiel could only gape at him. "You're killing the special children?"
Uriel sneered. "I should have figured your heart would bleed for these abominations."
"They're victims," Anna interjected.
He scoffed. "You two are pathetic," he spat.
"What does Hell want with them?" Castiel demanded. If Uriel was hunting them down, he must have been the one to find Lucifer's crypt and take the pages from the journal.
Uriel arched a brow. "Ah, so you haven't figured it out yet? They're the final pieces to usher in Lucifer's arrival."
"Lucifer doesn't need any rituals to ensure his rising," Anna pointed out. "The lock broke with the Devil's Gate opening."
"No, but these will restore his strength. He has languished a long time in the Cage, after all."
Castiel's blood ran cold. So that had been Azazel's plan all along—create special children baptized in demon blood who would then be sacrificed to Lucifer to give him power when he rose. Heaven may have wanted the final battle, but they most definitely would not want the Devil getting a leg up in the fight. So it made sense Uriel was…
Castiel frowned as he finally registered the fact that Uriel hadn't just killed this young woman, he'd drained her blood and collected it…like Jake Talley. This wasn't an execution; it was a sacrifice.
"You're taking up Azazel's work," Castiel breathed. His pulse ratcheted up. "Why?"
Uriel smirked. "To restore our glorious brother, of course."
Castiel felt as though the oxygen got punched from his lungs. "Lucifer."
"You do remember him? How strong he was?" Uriel's tone had turned silky and inviting. "How beautiful? And he didn't bow to humanity. This whining, puking larva. He was punished for defending us."
"Is this a recruitment speech?" Anna retorted.
Uriel sneered. "Perhaps, in the past, I might have asked you to join me. But I know your bleeding hearts too well."
"It's not as though Michael has any love for humanity," Castiel threw out.
"Michael," Uriel jeered. "Perhaps not anymore, but his unerring devotion to God's will in the past was sickening. He was a weak sycophant. Lucifer, though, he is strong. He will lead us into glory."
"Not gonna happen," Anna said darkly.
Uriel's expression morphed into a smug moue. "You're too late. I'm almost finished. I just have one more special child to collect." The corner of his mouth curved upward as he turned his gaze to Castiel. "I saved the best for last."
Castiel's heart leaped for fear, but he clenched his fists, his grace crackling underneath the surface. "You are not taking Sam Winchester."
He took another step forward when a snarl sounded from the bushes. Castiel went rigid and whipped his head around. Dozens of pairs of red eyes were gleaming through gaps in the leaves and branches.
"It seems the blood has attracted a pack of hellhounds," Uriel casually commented. "I wish I could stay and watch them rip you apart, but I have an important matter to see to."
"No!" Castiel lunged for Uriel just as the other angel vanished into the ether, but before he could follow, a hellhound leaped from the bushes straight at him. Castiel unleashed his grace just as the mutt with molten veins hit him, both of them tumbling to the ground. But his panther exploded in an instant, throwing the beast off in the eruption of grace that rippled out and shimmered into an opalescent shield.
Castiel rolled into a crouch, eyes blazing. Anna's lynx was already glowing around her as she danced and pivoted through an onslaught of hellhounds.
Three charged at Castiel, and he spun around, swiping out with a set of claws. He caught two, sending them flying into tree trunks with yelps. The third had launched itself high and landed on his panther's shoulder. Teeth sank into it. He roared and slashed with his claws again, ripping the hellhound off.
Anna's cat yowled sharply, and Castiel darted over to snatch a hound off her flank. Back to back, they shredded the beasts that dared get close enough, until several mauled corpses lay scattered across the ground and the remaining hellhounds fled into the forest.
After a brief moment of catching their breaths, their spirit animals melted down and fizzled out. Castiel gave Anna a quick once-over to make sure she was uninjured. Both of them were breathing heavily, but weren't seriously hurt.
"We have to warn the Winchesters," he said urgently.
Anna nodded, and lowered her voice. "Evasive route Alpha. That spell Uriel has won't lead him to Sam; he may be waiting for us to do that."
Castiel's jaw tightened, and he gave a clipped nod, grateful for his former captain's presence of mind. Perhaps his closeness with his charges was beginning to affect his ability to think clearly.
He let Anna take the lead this time, the two of them diving through the ethereal currents in a seemingly erratic path that took them all the way over to the Rocky Mountains before veering back to the mid-west. It was an effective course for shaking any pursuers, and they saw no sign of Uriel.
They finally landed in the middle of Camp Chitaqua, and Castiel paused in surprise at how quiet it was. Where was everyone?
He started striding purposefully toward the Winchesters' cabin. "Sam! Dean!"
The door of another cabin swung open and a woman, Ellen, stepped out. "What's all the racket?"
Castiel turned sharply toward her. "Where are Sam and Dean?" he demanded.
She crossed her arms, apparently not impressed with his tone. "They left on a supply run hours ago."
Castiel's heart seized. They'd left the safety of the camp? "A supply run? Why? Your stock shouldn't be depleted yet."
"We've got an outbreak of disease and need more medical supplies," she replied, brow furrowing. "What's going on?"
"Disease?" Anna repeated.
"Yeah. Now tell me what the hell has got you so worked up. Are the boys okay?"
Castiel shook his head, snippets from an earlier conversation flitting through his mind, about hospitals being destroyed, right at the time when the camp suddenly needed them? It couldn't be coincidence.
He whipped his head up. "I have to find Sam and Dean."
Anna turned toward him. "The bond?"
He nodded, and closed his eyes to concentrate. The pieces he'd been relentlessly searching for were finally all coming together.
But it may have been too late.
Sam gazed up in relief at the four-story hospital he and their group were standing outside of. It was the third one on their desperate search for medical supplies, as the second town they'd visited was half obliterated by something. Maybe a bomb, though it'd been a long time since the US military had bothered to drop any on the mid-west region.
That, plus those other hospitals being destroyed struck Sam as weird, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. When everything was falling into chaos and ruin, it was just par for the course, wasn't it?
"Okay, we'll split up into teams of two," Dean said. "Locate what we need and grab everything you can carry. We'll make several trips, pack our vehicles to the brim."
"How do you plan on divvying stuff up?" Paul spoke up stiffly.
"For the meds, we'll start with one dose for every person in each group," Dean replied. "Then double it and triple it until we've gone through it all. Sound okay?"
Sam glanced at the older man, who nodded.
"That could take a while," Paul pointed out.
"Everyone's leaving with what they need to survive," Dean said, then checked his handgun. "You run into any demons, yell. Jo, why don't you and- Kathy, was it?- take the pharmacy. Sam and Meredith take the second floor, Keith and Risa the third. Paul and I will check the ER."
Sam nodded, and tried to give the brunette he'd been paired with a friendly smile. Her expression was hard, but not hostilely so. He understood her trepidation; friends were hard to come by these days.
They all made their way to the hospital doors. With no electricity, the sliding mechanisms were off, but the glass had been shattered at some point. Sam's boots crunched on broken bits as he stepped over the frame. They all paused in the lobby to listen, but all seemed quiet. He exchanged a nod with his brother, and then turned for the stairwell along with Keith and Risa.
Sam and Meredith got off at the second floor. Meredith wasn't carrying a weapon, so Sam took the lead navigating the darkened corridor. There was a wheelchair lying on its side against the wall, and further down a tray of lab cups that looked as though it'd been dropped in a hurry, their contents nothing more than discolored stains on the floor now.
They made their way into a patient ward, and Sam figured the nurses probably kept mild medicine around somewhere for easy access. He spotted a closed door marked 'Med Room.' Bingo.
"Hey," he said quietly, nodding that direction.
Meredith paused to follow his gaze, then started toward it. Sam continued to glance up and down the halls as she reached for the doorknob. It was locked. Sam stowed his gun and got out his lock picks, making quick work. When the door swung open, they found the contents of the supply closet relatively untouched, with dozens of boxes of aspirin and other generic drugs in cabinets opposite shelves with trays labeled for specific patients. Sam let out an almost giddy smile, and even Meredith's dour expression loosened some at the sight.
They squished themselves into the small space and started shoving boxes into their knapsacks.
"We should have brought a shopping cart," Sam said light-heartedly.
Meredith shook her head. "Maybe we can get a gurney."
"Good idea."
She stepped out of the closet and back into the hallway. And a moment later screamed.
Sam dropped his bag and whipped his gun up with both hands, heart suddenly thundering against his rib cage. Sucking in a sharp breath, he swept out into the corridor, braced to be under attack by a demon.
Instead he found the dark-skinned man with one eye, holding Meredith by the throat. Uriel.
The angel cast an almost bored look at Sam before suddenly jerking his arm. Sam flinched at the audible crack, and gaped in horror as Uriel let Meredith crumple to the floor like a doll.
There was another scream from somewhere else in the hospital, followed by the distant echo of gunfire.
Sam's heart stuttered, and he raised his gun to shoot, but Uriel pointed a fist his direction, and all of a sudden crippling pain ripped through his stomach. He doubled over from the shock and agony, his gun clattering uselessly to the floor. A bitter copper tang worked its way up the back of his throat, and Sam fell to his knees coughing up blood. He clutched his stomach and gasped as a wave of blazing heat coursed through him, followed by a fierce chill, and back again.
Uriel flexed his hand out and removed a ring from his finger. "Impressive, isn't it?" he mused. "The ring of Pestilence. Quite a nasty piece of work, but fitting that it can wreak such havoc on humanity's frail existence. Humans are a disease themselves, after all."
Sam coughed again, which turned into retching. He tried to reach shaky fingers toward his gun, but Uriel stepped forward and kicked it away.
"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are long dead," the angel went on. "Ironic, really. But their rings still possess their power. Even enough to send a plague out over an entire area."
Sam blinked against spotty vision. Wait, what?
Uriel squatted down in front of him, his lip curling up in distaste. "And like roaches under a battering gale, you went scurrying from your little burrow, just as I expected you to."
Sam gasped, terror as well as whatever was constricting his lungs making it difficult to breathe. It was a trap. "Why?" he gritted out. His first thought was for Cas, but that didn't quite make sense.
Uriel just smirked, and reached out to grip his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "It's God's will."
Sam tried to muster the strength to fight, but in the next instant, he felt himself being yanked forward into a dizzying vortex of swirling lights. His brain had a split second to realize he was probably in the ether before he started choking on the cloying atmosphere, and darkness took him a second after.