Cheryl, Sam, Dean and I walked into the dingy motel room, our sight slowly recovering from the contrast in lighting. The walls were wallpapered green and had off white baseboards running around the entire room. The entire room smelled of cheeseburgers and feet. To the left of the door was a circular table with stacks of manila file folders and Sam's laptop, charging. In front of us was a solitary queen sized bed, the brown and gold coverlet tossed haphazardly to the ground and the sheets rumpled. At the foot of the bed, there were two duffel bags, one halfway opened and revealing clothes. Next to the bed and in front of the tiny, most likely broken television was a small couch. It had two pillows awkwardly bunched in the corners of the cushion, sheets here too, balled up in another corner. At the back of the room, farthest from us was a door, presumably to the bathroom.
"So who got the couch?" I asked smiling as Dean shut the door behind everyone. He moved past me to sit on the edge of the bed and nodded his head in Sam's direction. "That'd be Gigantor, there." Dean chuckled as Sam turned his Bitchface on full blast.
"The ONE time you win at rock-paper-scissors…" Sam muttered as he turned to sit in the chair at the table, flipping his laptop screen up and pushing a lock of his hair behind his ears. I stifled a giggle at the thought of Sam having to fit on that little sofa, his legs draped over the end of the whole thing. Cheryl and I stood in the middle of the room. I looked around and noted with sated interest that indeed there were lines of salt in front of the one window and door.
"So, let's go over what we know," I began, wanting to sound as authoritative as I could.
"One: you told us that Raphael has sent one of his little angel minions with a piece of Moses' staff to take the lives of young men," Cheryl said, counting off on her fingers.
"Okay, two: yesterday I found out that all of the boys were the oldest of their siblings," Sam added as he looked up from his computer.
"Three: all six died at or around midnight with no visible physiological signs as to their deaths." My voice lowered and I scrunched my eyebrows in contemplation. Dean fiddled with the demon-killing knife for a bit before speaking.
"Cas said that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel was a 'traditionalist' and he'd want nothing more than to restart the Apocalypse. Maybe he's working up to that by recreating some other event… What else was the staff of Moses used for?"
"The plague," I spoke quietly, my mouth hanging open and eyes widening in quick realization. Everyone turned to look at me.
"Run that by me again?" Dean asked.
"It's one of the last plagues, isn't it? Moses said that the first born sons would be killed because the Pharaoh refused to release the Israelites. Quick! Give me a Bible!"
"Do I honestly look like I carry a Bible?" Dean retorted with a snarky look on his face.
"Here you go," Sam suddenly spoke up, appearing next to me with a pocket Bible. Cheryl chuckled and said "Oh, that's so cute!" Dean's face of disdain was curiously hostile and he rolled his eyes. I flipped through the pages furiously, landing on the book of Exodus. I read aloud, my voice nearly reverent, "So Moses said to the king, "This is what the Lord says: 'About midnight tonight I will go through all Egypt. Every firstborn son in the land of Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of the king, who sits on his throne, to the firstborn of the slave girl grinding grain. There will be loud outcries everywhere in Egypt, worse than any time before or after this.'" My words fell heavy in the atmosphere; all in the room were stunned into silence.
"Cas!" Dean raised his voice in prayer. His eyes snapped closed and he looked like he was straining to be heard. His head lolled back and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Castiel, we need you immediately! You know where we are and we need your feathery ass NOW. We've got an issue of Biblical proportions." Before he could even finish his sentence, there was a fluttering of invisible wings and a deep, gravelly voice spoke. "Hello, Dean." The air burned with something like ozone and I could feel a full and pressing presence. It was suffocating. Castiel stood stiffly in his suit and trench coat, his black hair sticking in odd directions. His eyes electrifyingly blue pierced mine briefly then turned to Dean. Promptly, Cheryl freaked the fuck out.
"Oh my GOD!" she screamed, jumping back wide-eyed. "Who the- what the fuck? What IS he?" I rushed to her side and she gripped my arm, her nails nearly breaking the skin. She was hyperventilating. This was not good. I had to calm her down before her heart exploded or something. I grabbed her face and made her look me in the eye.
"Cheryl," I said calmly, "That is Castiel. He is an angel of the Lord-" (Amazingly enough, she had enough air to scoff.) "-He is the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition." Cheryl's breathing was becoming less ragged, but her whole body was still tensed in fear. She did a double take at the being still standing near the door. "What?"
"Just go sit down on the couch. You'll be alright." I sighed and led her over to the little couch. I walked up to Castiel softly, bowing my head in respect. I looked up and he turned his nearly emotionless face to mine. "My name is Bella and it's such an incredible honor to meet you." I put out my hand as I spoke. He looked at it confusedly for a moment, and then gripped it in a quick shake. I felt a white-hot spark thrumming up and down my arm when his hand touched mine. This must be Grace, I thought in awe.
Castiel spoke, addressing everyone simultaneously, but only looking at Dean. "I have heard your prayers and I already know. You are correct in your assumptions. Raphael is attempting to recreate the soul gathering of the final plague. His wrath is great and his plan is one no one could predict. Fortunately, the angel responsible was interrupted before they could finish that night."
"Can you tell who it is or when they'll try again?" Sam asked from his spot at the table. I started, having forgotten that he was even in the room. Castiel turned to Sam and a bit sharply said, "Yes. It is Azrael, the Angel of Death. She is the six-winged Archangel that holds the book that carries the names of all the living and the dead. She is the one that ravaged Sodom and Gomorra, that performed the first sweep through Egypt and stole the light from all the firstborns and she has come for a repeat performance."
Sam raised one eyebrow and put one hand on his hip. "Is she like, leader of the Reapers? Does she work for Death then?"
Castiel let out a noise too soft to be a full sigh, but full of disappointment. "What have I said about asking stupid questions? Reapers tremble before her. Death and her have a more... interesting relationship, although they are not related. Father took inspiration from him and created her, the perfect soldier, the most powerful harbinger of death for good and evil alike. She calls Death.. 'Uncle Muerte'." (Cheryl snorted.)
"Well, why would she be working with Raphael?" Sam asked, terrified.
"That IS most confusing. Azrael has only the most profound reverence and obedience for our Father. She would not take orders from any other. He must have convinced her that this task was on His orders."
Sam huffed in disbelief. "Sounds pretty unprofessional if she just listens to anyone who claims the orders came from higher up."
Castiel sighed fully then, his shoulders heaving and his expression becoming one of intense discomfort. "It... is rumored that she often imbibes copious amounts of alcohol," he said. "My 'bender' as you called it pales in comparison. It is likely that Raphael took advantage of her during one such run." Dean's face furrowed in concentration as he said, "So, until we can convince her otherwise we need to protect this school somehow. She's using the staff. What protects from her name brand insta-death?" We all thought silently for a moment when from the couch, Cheryl's voice floated through our little bubble.
"Blood," she stated simply, "Lamb's blood." Four heads whipped around to stare at Cheryl.
"Hey, I get it. That might work," I said incredulously, my face stretching into a smile. I turned back to the brothers who were switching their gazes between me, Cheryl and Castiel. Sam, for once, looked stupefied, his lips slightly tensed. Dean's face was a vision of confusion, his eyebrows uneven, one so high it was nearly touching his hairline, his mouth hung open and I could nearly hear the white noise I'm sure he was thinking. He closed his mouth, took a breath and stood up from the bed, stepping forward and facing Cheryl. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Oh my gosh, have you never seen 'The Prince of Egypt'?" she exclaimed, hands in the air and eyes wide with disbelief.