"What? So now Crowley can just pop in and out of the bunker anytime he feels like it," Sam snapped. "This place is supposed to be secure." He stood, impatiently and wearily rubbing his face. "Right, I guess I had better go lock this place down. The last thing we need is another impromptu visit from that bastard," He said angrily as he left to check and redo the warding sigils across the entire bunker.
"He is just tired," Faith commented, seeing how concerned and frustrated Dean was.
"He's pissed," He corrected. "I mean, I can't blame him, his brother is now the one of the big bad he's has spent his entire life putting down,"
"Between us, we have the experience, the tools and the blind stupidity to fix all this," Faith said, attempting to reassure him. Dean looked up at Faith and said:
"I don't think I've said this yet, but thank you for everything you are doing for us. I mean, you don't know us from Adam and you've just put your life on hold for a demon, an angel and a cranky giant." Faith smiled and gave a small laugh before she replied.
"Oubliettes, we are all about duty, it's a part of us. We are born lucky; for the most part, live uneventful but charmed lives. Besides we know, from the get go, who put us here and why. There is no doubt, no existential questions. We do what we have to do because no one else can and because not doing it isn't an option," she explained.
"And you're okay with that?" Dean questioned. "Just doing what's needed, regardless."
"Pretty much. Look at it this way, my soul and its memories have been around for give or take sixty lifetimes. About fifty of which have passed off without a hitch. That's good innings if you ask me," she explained.
"And the ten that didn't?" Dean asked pessimistically. "What went wrong with them."
"Humans mostly, oppression, wars, crusades, that sort thing. Couple of natural disasters too," she replied
"So, nothing like this then, Knights of Hell, inmates popping up for a chat?" Dean quizzed.
"No, I gotta say this is a first, but then again so were the witch trials," she replied with a toothy grin. Faith was playing a good game, but if she was honest she would have told Dean that she was pretty shaken up. However, thanks to Alistair, she knew these boys well enough to know that they were capable of overcoming almost anything, no matter how the odds were stacked against them. No matter how bad it got, she wasn't going to abandon them, she was seeing this to the end. She tossed him a stack a folders. "Enough of this chit-chat. Make yourself useful," she said.
Castiel had returned once again to Heaven and had Metatron brought to him.
"I'm willing to accept your offer," The angel stated. Metatron did his best to seem surprised but found it hard to stifle his smile.
"I'm glad you have seen sense, Castiel," he answered.
"You must understand, if I feel you have held anything back or lied to me in any way our deal is null and void," Cas said.
"Castiel, you have to understand, I want out of here, that's it. I have no hidden agenda. There is no reason I would lie to you at this point. You've won, Heaven is yours. All I want now is to go back to how I once lived. A comfy chair and all the books I can read. That is it, nothing more," Metatron claimed.
"So, how do I track an angel without their true name?" Cas asked.
"You can't simple as that," Metatron began. "But if you have the angels Oubliette in your back pocket, its soul can tell you the given name of the angel charged to guard them; it is etched into the very soul itself." He paused but Cas knew well enough to interrupt the egotistical angel, who liked nothing more than the sound of his own voice. As Metatron continued it was clear that this time it was working to Castiel's advantage. "But what you have to realise is that the angel itself is nothing more than a run of the mill angel, without the stone gifted to it by God. Each angel received a different type of stone, seven Oubliettes, seven angels, seven stones. It's all very Hans Christian Andersen, I know but that's how it is."
"These stones, how do they work?" Castiel asked.
"The stones, they link everything. The angel to the stone; the stone to the Oubliette. You find the angel you will find the stone and vice versa." He seemed to think on something for a second before continuing. "If your angel is missing, it doesn't bode well for either of them. These angels are chosen for their unparalleled loyalty and duty. They would not abandon their post willingly, not even if their lives depended on it. If, worst case scenario, the angel is no more then you have to find the stone, without it the Oubliette is screwed." He leaned back in his chair. Leaving the floor open for questions.
"If I can't find the stone, what do you mean by 'screwed'?" Castiel questioned.
"Depends, if they haven't received a new inmate during this lifetime, not much. Death, painful but fairly quick."
"And if they have a relatively new inmate?" Cas cut in.
"Well that's a different kettle of fish altogether. The prisoner will drain the Oubliette of every last bit of its power. It is unable to possess the host for anymore than a couple of minutes. Their souls have warding to prevent such a thing happening, so it will be expelled back into the world." Metatron clapped his hands on the arms of the chair. "This is all theoretical of course; it has never happen before so we can't be sure what will happen. One thing I know for sure, if it does make it out, it won't come out weak, it will have absorbed the Oubliettes power. Even with what little is left it will be more than enough juice to fully charge up what ever monster making its escape."
Castiel frowned but asked no further questions. Metatron killed the silence by adding. "That, my dear friend, is everything I know. God never spoke more on the subject, aware of how important it was that their powers and their identities remained secret."
Castiel, rightly or wrongly, believed that the angel had indeed told him everything. "Okay. I will allow you to fall but on Heavens terms, not yours." He rose and stood next to the seated Metatron. "First, your grace." He said as he drew his angel blade and ran it gingerly across the scribe's neck, collecting the glowing grace that seeped out into a vile. After which he laid his hand over the incision and healed it, just as Metatron had done for him. Placing the vile in his coat pocket he stepped back and opened the door behind him. A waiting angel entered the room.
"This is Thomas." Cas introduced.
Without speaking a word Thomas stepped forward and placed his hand on Metatron's chest. Pain, a pain entirely new to him, a human pain tore through his chest. Metatron let out a roar of agony. A moment later Thomas removed his hand but the pain lingered. The scribe shot both Cas and Thomas an angry look, but said nothing.
"Thomas is now linked to you, he can track your every move and will check in on you anytime we see fit," Cas explained.
"That wasn't part of the deal," Metatron complained. Castiel leaned over him threateningly.
"Mark my words. If you put a step wrong you will find yourself back in your cell quicker than you can blink." He turned to Thomas. "You may take him now and set him free," He commanded. Then to the newly human Marv, he advised. "Take it from me; humans are intrinsically good but also tainted with the capacity to do evil. Seek out the good if you want to survive."
Marv didn't respond as Tomas placed a hand on his shoulder and they both disappeared. Castiel stood alone for a moment, self doubt creeping back in, before Hannah entered the room.
"You've done the right thing." She assured him. "With Metatron's grace you will now be strong enough to lead Heaven." Castiel looked troubled.
"That's not what I want, Hannah. And I don't believe I am the leader that Heaven needs, not right now," He confided. Hannah looked at Castiel in disbelief.
"What are you saying?" she asked.
"It needs to be you. Someone who is singular in their objectives. You are honourable and incorruptible. It should be you," He said placing a hand on her shoulder. "I have to focus my time and energy on the Winchesters and earth; you take control of Heaven, fix all this and bring our brothers and sisters home." Hannah could see that Castiel truly believed what he was saying and accepted her new role willingly.
"What about you?" She asked. "You need to take Metatron grace. I can see how weak you are."
"I will," he promised. "But not yet, not until I have no other choice," he explained. "I need to return to Earth. You will do great things here in Heaven; I have more faith in you than in any other angel."
Faith had left Dean in search of Sam, waiting to help with the bunker lock down. She found him in the library, leaning over a large book laid open on the desk. "How are you getting on?" She asked.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I figured out how Crowley has been getting past the wardings." He held out his hand to show her four ancient looking coins. "I found one in each corner of the bunker." He then pointed to the book open in front of him. "Its old magic, like a mix of woodoo and witch craft, only way older than both, most probably a common ancestor of each. According to this, these have the power to void all the wardings we have." He informed her. "Crowley must have stashed them here when he was helping us to get rid of Gadreel." He added.
"Hold up. One, who is Gadreel and two, Crowley? That short sleazy demon from before was helping you?" She asked confused. Through Alistair she knew a lot of the boy's history, but only up to a point. Over the past two days she had picked up tit bits on Abbadon, Metatron and Cain but there were still a lot of blanks they hadn't gotten around to filling in.
"He will have to explain that to you later." Castiel said materialising next to them. "I have new information."
They rejoined Dean before Cas began to recount what he had learnt.
"I can retrieve your angel's name and with that I can find her location." He said careful not to mention Metatron's involvement in front of Dean. He wasn't happy keeping the secret but both Sam and Faith had convinced him that withholding this information was in Dean's best interest.
"That's great news." Faith replied relieved. However the angel did not look as happy about it as Faith was.
"Yes it is and no it isn't." Cas replied. "The true or given name of your angel is inscribed on your soul. I need to read it and to do that I need to touch it." he said grimly. Both the Winchesters signed, obviously not over the moon with what the angel had just suggested.
"Ok, I can't say I'm too encouraged by that response," she said picking up on the boys trepidation.
"I have done this before, successfully," Cas stated trying to assure her. "However, it is never a pleasant experience. It shall be, in fact, quite painful for you," he added.
"Well whatever you do, don't sugar-coat it for me," she said, attempting to lighten the tension in the room. Unfortunately, the angel once again, failed to pick up on the human tendency for sarcasm.
"Your soul is much more powerful than any I have encounter before, I will need to force my way in, add in the fact that I need to get in and out without making contact with your inmate, it could get very dangerous indeed," he added bluntly.
"Shit," she said and stood up and left the room as the three men exchanged confused glances.
"She told me not to sugar-coat it," Cas said in his defence.
"She might just need a minute to, you know, to process it all," Dean said, in answer to the angel. A moment later she returned with a bottle of whiskey.
"Courage in a bottle," she explained light heartedly. She opened it and necked a good couple of inches from it. "Right, if we are going to do this, let's get cracking," she added before taking another large swig. Between the exhaustion, the lack of food and another two hits from the bottle, her head was swimming as Castiel positioned her in the chair and stood over her. His unreadable face bringing her no comfort. She closed her eyes and braced herself, gripping the arms of the chair in anticipation. Castiel placed his hand just below her rib and whispered to her.
"I'm sorry." Faith didn't know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn't what followed. A blinding light spilled from where Castiel's hand had inexplicably vanished into her abdomen, but the light was paled by the searing pain that accompanied it. Her nails dug deep into the wooden chair and if the agony had not robbed her of command of the rest of her body she would have fled. The pain continued to build, at each point Faith swore to herself that it could not get any worse but each time the intensity grew until finally, mercifully she passed out.
Castiel wasn't fairing any better. Her soul was stronger than any he had attempted to touch before and still running on his quickly depleting stolen grace he was struggling to breach it. It was only after Faith was out cold that he was able to reach inside, locate and read the inscription. He gingerly attempted to withdraw his hand but before he was able to fully extract it, he felt something latch on to it.
"Hello Castiel. Good to see you again, old friend." Alistair spoke directly into his mind. "I know now. I know what Dean has become. Under my instruction in hell he showed such promise. But you, you stole him from me. I was angry for so long but now I see it was fate, under your protection he has become so much more than I could have ever hoped. When I get out of here, I will finish the job we both had a hand in. He will be unparalleled in all of history. The world will fall before him, feared by Heaven, worshiped by Hell. And I, I will sit at his right hand." Castiel heard no more, falling to the floor, finally free of Alistair's grip and Faith's soul. Both he and Faith had blood falling from their mouth and nose. His attempt to wipe his clean left a ghoulish red smudge across his face. Sam was at Faiths side checking for a pulse. Dean spoke to Cas from inside the trap.
"You okay Buddy?" He asked. Cas seemed confused and still out of it. "Cas!" Dean yelled concerned for his friend.
"I have a name, Laylah." He dragged himself across the floor to Faith and again laid his hand on her chest. A very faint light passed between them. "She will be okay." He said before he too passed out.
The angel, know as Francis, sat helplessly in the chair, secured at his hands, feet and chest by leather straps with Enochian sigils burnt into them. Around his forehead was a metal brace with guide holes running along the centre. Crowley stood before him, a long silver needle in his hand. The King carefully selected a hole and slowly drove pointed metal through the angel's skull and deep into his brain. The angel briefly screamed in pain but stopped abruptly as Crowley tweaked the position of the needle. Crowley was enjoying himself for the first time in days and as a result chatted to the trapped angel incessantly.
"You see. I'm never one to miss out on an opportunity. So when suddenly earth was overrun with lost and confused angels, well of course I picked myself up a half dozen or so. Easy pickings too." He said, lining up another needle and inserting it a few holes away from the first. He waited patiently for the angel to finish screaming before he continued. "You lot, out of your comfort zone, you can be so naïve, downright gullible." He picked up a third needle and entered the angels from the opposite side of his head. "Burned through the first two or three pretty quickly, embarrassingly so, to be honest. Honing my craft, I suppose." He said, excusing his failures. "I was pretty sure I had it all figured out, that was until your friend over there." He motioned to a headless body dumped in the corner. "Well her head, it just went pop!" He twisted the latest needle until he was happy with its position. "Damn near wet my pants, I don't mind telling you. I've never seen anything like it. It literally, went pop, no exaggeration." He repeated jovially. "Anyway she had just finished explaining to me what she knew about Oubliettes. Not a hell of a lot but more than I did. Let's find out if you know any more, shall we?" He knew now that if he ever wanted Dean Winchester to reach his full potential he needed to separate him from their new toy. Once they were apart, nature would be allowed to take its proper course. Crowley added another needle and twisted it but was still startled when the angel finally began speaking. Robotically he repeated, over and over again. "Metatron has fallen."
"What?" Crowley laughed. "Oh, Castiel, you are the only angel stupid enough to allow the Scribe of God to fall. Well, Heavens loss is Hells gain." He said as he reached for another needle. "It seems my Christmas list is growing longer by the second. First Dean, then an Oubliette and now a Scribe." He selected a hole for the needle and stared to push it in. Half way through there was a loud popping sound and Crowley was covered from head to toe in exploded angel head. "Totally worth it," he scoffed as he scooped angel matter from his eyes.
Sam had moved both Cas and Faith to another room to rest up. They had both been asleep for hours before Castiel was the first to regain consciousness. He joined Sam in the study, who had found he was looking for any excuse to not be alone with Dean. Even calm and drained the subtle differences in his brother unnerved him more and more. Had Bobby still been around he would have likened his reaction to Dean's to soulless Sam.
Cas stumbled across the room, he looked terrible, his face grey and his eyes sunken. Sam was shocked at the angel's appearance.
"No offence Cas, but you look like crap," he said.
"I don't know how not to take offence to that," Cas replied.
"Sorry, I just mean, you have Metatron's grace, why suffer like this? Why not just boost the batteries?" Sam questioned.
"I will, just not yet," the angel replied.
"If not now, when? Seriously we could use you at full power just about now," Sam suggested.
"I will use it when I have to, Sam, I'm fine," Cas snapped, still supporting himself against the table.
"Yeah. Obviously," Sam snapped back. He was stick to death of people in his life telling him they were fine when the contrary was blatantly evident.
"I'm sorry," Cas said. "It's just not that simple. The last time I let something more powerful than me in, well, we all know that didn't end well at all," he admitted.
"Come on Cas, that was different, the Levitations, they were pure evil and there were thousands of them. Metatron might be a total douche but at his core he is, was an angel," Sam said attempting to convince him.
"I suspect what you are saying to be true, but how can we be certain. What if we are wrong again? Do you think the Winchester Brothers are in a position to take down a rogue angel, right now?"
Sam was interrupted before he could respond by loud crash from the direction of Dean's room. He took off immediately, Castiel unable to keep up, hobbled slowly behind him. When Sam entered the room there was a chair in pieces next to him on the floor. He looked at Dean, whose eyes were jet black once again, however when he spoke his voice was steady and calm.
"Hey little brother. I've been thinking, this whole situation is getting bit ridicules, isn't it. I mean, you keep getting that preachy bitch to drain me but I just keep coming right back. Why don't we just accept that this is who I am now?" He held out his arms, both fists clenched and did a little twirl. "We could have some fun with it. We could totally 'Running Man' this thing. You could let me go, I'll be generous and give you a day's head start before I hunt you down and gut you." He threatened, placing his hands behind his back. Sam said nothing, still horrified at the sight his brother, the Knight. "No? Okay then, how about we start smaller?" He continued. "My Blade, take her out of that stupid trinket box and toss her back in here to me. What possible harm can I do with it in this trap, you have nothing to lose," he suggested. Sam shook his head in disbelief.
"You really think that that is going to happen, Dean?" He asked.
"Oh, come on Sammy, you and I, if nothing else, we have always been each others enablers. How about this then? I'll give you, what I know you still desperately crave and in return you give me what I crave, my Blade," he teased.
"Seriously Dean, you have nothing I need," Sam replied defiantly.
"Is that so?" Dean said, as he stepped to the edge of the trap. Sam resisted the urge to retreat a step or two in response. Almost face to face Dean looked his brother in the eye. "Is that what you think?" He whispered. Without hesitation his arms swung from behind his back, he opened his still clenched fists and threw two handfuls of his blood, demon blood directly into Sam's face, splashing across and into his open shocked mouth. Dean laughed hysterically holding up his hands to show two large cuts across his palms. Sam stumbled back, spitting what he could out on to the floor before wiping his mouth.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam stuttered.
"Come on, Sammy. It's your turn now. Do you brother a solid and give me back my Blade," Dean said still smiling.
"You're no brother of mine," Sam spat as he stormed from the room, running into Cas, who had only just managed to catch up, as he exited.
"Ah, Sammy, don't be like that." Dean shouted after him, filling the bunker with maniacal laughter.
Sam paused half way down the corridor, he was livid. He waited for Castiel to catch up to him. "We have to stop this!" He said.
"We're working on it, Sam. Now that we have the angel's name I can locate her. Then we…" Castiel began but Sam cut him off.
"Then what? We keep Faith powered up enough to drain Dean every time he goes dark? All we are doing is putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. It's not enough." He looked at Cas. "Just how long do you think we can keep this up for?" He asked.
"It will give us time, time to find a long term solution." Cas said.
"But that's just it, Cas." Sam explained. "We already have a solution. We have been dancing around it for days now. I can cure him," Sam suggested. Castiel knew this was coming sooner or later. Before he could respond, Dean shouted after them.
"Yeah, great plan Sammy, caused that worked really well on Crowley. Could be a lot of fun though, one brother, a demon hopped up on human blood. The other, a human hopped up on demon blood. We could spend the rest of our days feeding off of each other." Sam turned and silently marched back into Dean's room. "But that's just it Sam, there would be no rest of days for you. Curing me will kill you. How do you think dear old human Dean would feel knowing you died because of him?" He mocked.
"You and I both know that he would be ok with it. I would rather be dead that leave Dean as this monster," Sam remarked.
"Oh be careful Sam, you'll hurt my feelings. Regardless what you think, I am still your bother, just better, stronger, unburdened. Plus who says I can be cured, I'm so much more than a cross roads demon. I'm pretty confident that the process would kill you long before you managed to but a dent in the new me," he speculated. "It's the mark, Sam. I'm no run of the mill demon like Crowley, stronger by far than Abbadon. I am the Father of Murder, mainlining your weak ass blood will do jack shit." He paused and smiled to himself. "But don't let that stop you, give it your best shot, see how it plays out. It will save me having to come back and kill you later." Sam left the room, unable to listen to the mocking tone of his once brothers voice any longer. Cas followed him, shooting Dean a sad helpless look as he left.
"Sam, he's not wrong, it will kill you and we don't know for sure if it will even work." the angel confirmed.
"It doesn't matter, Cas, if this was the other way around, he would have already done the same for me, and he would never have let it go on for this long," Sam shouted at the angel.
"Okay, say you do try this and you fail, with you dead there is no one left on earth that would be able to put him down." Cas turned and looked sharply at Sam. "I know it's unthinkable but if it comes to it, it will have to be you." Cas said doing his best to sound confident in what he was saying.
"There would be you," Sam replied. Cas turned away, worried Sam would see the doubt in his eyes.
"Yes, I suppose there would." Cas replied noncommittally.
"Let's just stow the kamikaze mission until we have exhausted all other possibilities." Sam didn't answer. "When was the last time you slept?" Cas asked. Again Sam didn't respond. "Go, get some rest. I'll watch over Dean. You are no good to anyone 'burnt out' as you put it," he suggested.
"Neither are you," was Sam's only reply before he silently headed off in the direction of his room, still not convinced that there was another option.
Metatron, or Marv as he was now called, wasn't enjoying being a human at all. It had only been a couple of days since his fall, but without his grace and a plethora of new and some what unexpected human needs, things had progressively gone from bad to worse. His first stop had been a sleaze bar.
There, ill prepared for the affects of alcohol on his newly mortal body, he had, after three or four drinks, unwittingly procured himself a few hours of time with an overly friendly woman named Crystal. Crystal had then quickly unburdened the once Scribe of God of the small amount of money he had to his name and left him passed out and unsullied on the floor of a dirty hotel room. He awoke, nursing his first hanger over and promising himself would that it would be his last.
Broke and hungry he had then attempted to steal food from local Gas N' Sip, only to be caught by a shop attendant, who clearly believed in his own swift punishment over that of the local law enforcement.
He now sat penniless and bleeding under an overpass doing his best to stay dry and not think about how incredibly cold and frighten he was. He had made a terrible mistake, he knew that now, he wasn't cut out for life as a human. Earth always seemed like a fine place to him but that had been when he was an angel and needed for nothing more than another story to read. Now there was so much more on the list of growing needs that came ahead of that. Food, shelter, security, a toilet and other things he never had to think about before. Now every noise frightened him, the darkness promised nothing but pain and fear. He spent the night huddled under the bridge too afraid to sleep, staring into the distance, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. However, when a figure did appear from the darkness, he froze, unable to move or flee.
"It's not that easy to be a human, is it? This tiny blue planet can seem so unimaginably large when you don't have any wings," the stranger said, stepping out of the shadows. "The name is Crowley; I don't believe we've met."
Cas left Sam to himself and went to check in on Faith. The sound of the door opening woke her and she sat up slowly in the bed. To her surprise she felt okay and well rested.
"You look confused," the angel remarked.
"Yeah, a little," she answered. "I don't feel like crap. How long have I been out?" She asked.
"A little over twelve hours," he replied.
"Holy Crap. Did it work? Did you get a name?" Faith asked expectantly.
"Yes, I did, Laylah," he said.
"Laylah, huh, suits her," she said with a smile. It was then she noticed the shouting. "What the hell is that? What's going on?" She asked.
"Dean," the angel replied. "I know you've only just woken up but he is in need of your help."
"Oh right, yeah, of course," she said getting up and heading straight for Dean's room. His shouts continued, threats to kill, each of them rang out through the bunker.
Entering the room she could see that Dean was near rabid. Everything that had been inside the circle with him had been torn up and smashed to pieces. He paced inside the trap like a caged lion. Blood and spit pooled in the corners of his mouth. He was sick, fully in the throws of withdrawal from his Blade and his overpowering bloodlust. When he saw Faith, he retreated, attempting to maintain a distance between them. Every step she took he countered in the opposite. He was so fixated on the Oubliette that he didn't notice Cas flank him. The angel grabbed him from behind, throwing his arms around the chest, holding him in place, forcing Deans hands down to his sides.
"Now, Faith! I won't be able to hold him for long," Cas said urgently. She stepped forward into the trap.
"Get the hell away from me you stupid whore. When I get out of here, you are going to be the first I send to hell," Dean promised. Ignoring him, she placed her hand gently across his cheek. Both Dean and Faith fell to their knees in unison as Castiel released his grip. Faith never allowing the contact between them to be broken, not until she saw the last of the black empty from his eyes. Dean felt the sickness leave him first, then the anger and finally the hate subsided. He watched helplessly as Faith fell to the floor and battled against his darkness and finally growing still. He gave her a moment before helping her up, careful not to make any contact with her bare skin.
Once upright, she stumbles out of the trap and over to the corner of the room, where she doubled over and violently vomited thick dark red blood. Wiping her mouth she looked up to see both Dean and Cas staring at her with concern. Cas approached her with the intent of healing what ever physical damage had been done but she held up her hand to keep him at bay.
"No Castiel," she said. "I'll be fine, save your strength," the angel ignored her and placed his hand on her forehead.
"Let's meet half way," he said, only partially healing her. Dean had remained silent, she looked over at him.
"You okay Dean?" She asked him. He was racked with guilt, felt truly awful for what he had done to his brother. He shook his head.
"Sam?" He asked.
"Sleeping," Cas answered.
"Is he okay?" Dean asked, his voice resounding with dread.
"He is fine, frustrated with the situation, but he is fine," the angel confirmed. Faith still used the wall to support herself despite Cas having healed her.
"Sorry to change the subject, but my angel, you have a name, can you find her?" She asked. She wasn't ready to admit it but the last draining had significantly weakened her and she could sense that Alistair was regaining his within her.
"Already done," he replied. "I gave her name to Hannah as soon as I had it. She has come back to me with a location; Dublin; Ireland." He said, releived to have some good news to share. "If I am not needed here I will go and search for her." He suggested. Faith smiled feebly.
"Yes, go, Dean and I, we're both good." She glanced at the Winchester. "Right?" She asked. He looked up at her.
"Yeah, we're good." He replied quietly, the angel looked at Dean unconvinced but disappeared anyway.
Castiel reappeared in a small side street. He was exhausted. His hand went to Metatron's grace, but he shook his head in response to some unspoken question and walked from the alley on to a busy street lined with shops and apartments. Tucked in between an upmarket coffee shop and a trendy clothes store was an ancient church. Castiel always liked Ireland, a perfect mix of the old and the new living side by side without question.
He pulled open the large wooden church doors and entered. He stood for a moment enjoying the peace and reverence of the building before he was approached by a priest.
"Welcome friend, can I help to you at all?" He asked. Castiel had his story ready.
"Hello Father, my name is Reverend James O'Sullivan of the Cathedral of 's, South Dakota," he introduced himself.
"Well then, welcome to Dublin, Reverend. I'm Father Murphy. What has you so far from home?" He asked warmly.
"I'm looking for a parishioner of mine; she went missing nearly a year ago. She was last seen in this area and was quite devote. It is likely she would have stopped by here," Castiel explained.
"We do get a number of Americans stopping in, finding their roots and what not. If you have a name or a photograph I could try to help." He asked.
"She could have been going by either Sarah or Laylah," Cas replied. The priests face dropped and he blessed himself.
"Are you one too?" he asked.
"One what?" Castiel replied. Father Murphy put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a bottle of holy water, which he splashed across the angels face.
"No Father, I am not a demon. I work for Heaven, my name is Castiel, I am an angel," he informed him.
"As was your friend Laylah," the priest replied.
"Was?" Cas asked frowning.
"Please come with me," he answered and led Castiel to the Sacristy.
When they had both entered, he closed the door and locked it behind them. "I am sorry to tell you that your friend passed away. She had been mortally wounded when she made her way into my church looking for sanctuary. She had been attacked by demons, who were trying to capture her." He walked around his desk and opened a wall safe behind it. "She told me her true name and said that if one day a fellow angel showed up looking for her and spoke her name I was to give them this." He handed Castiel a small turquoise stone. "Once she had handed over the stone she passed away. I am very sorry," the priest said apologetically.
"I too a sorry to hear that my sister has perished but this stone is of great importance. Thank you for keeping it safe." Castiel replied.
"How the mighty have fallen," Crowley mocked as he stood above the damp and bleeding Marv. "The troll sits under his bridge."
"What ever you are peddling demon, you can shove it right back into hell," the fallen angel retorted. Crowley scoffed.
"You angels, always up on your horse, thinking you are better than us. You lot have cause just as much pain and suffering as us demons. The only difference is you get to say it was done in Gods name." He made a show of pulling his collar and tightening his jacket, simply to remind Marv how cold and miserable it was under the overpass. "Better PR I suppose. Although it is much easier to sell an old man with a beard, than the horns and pitch fork I've been force to work with." Marv stood up, not that it helped make him seem any more imposing. The King of Hell may have been well endowed, but he could not by any means be considered tall. However, compared to Marv he was practically a moose.
"Did you pop in just to lecture me, demon?" Marv spat.
"No, not at all, I'm here to help you, get you off the streets. Put a roof over your head, a warm meal in you belly." Crowley replied.
"And in return for your kindness, what do you want, my soul?" Marv questioned.
"You and I both know that that piece of fluff taking up space inside you is no more a soul than my heart is a heart. No, I have no interest in that cheap knock off. What I'm after is more cerebral," he said with a grin.
"Ha, you have got to be kidding me? You think I am going to share with you the secrets of Heaven?" Marv laughed. "I may have fallen but I am still loyal to my brothers and sisters." It was Crowley turn to laugh.
"Loyal? From what I heard you locked the doors and then pitted angel against angel in a Heavenly smack down," the demon replied.
"All for the greater good," Marv retorted a little sheepishly, not even convincing himself.
"Well the greater good tossed you out like week old leftovers. Now here are your choices," Crowley said. "You can come with me, willingly, and I will set you up as you've grown accustomed, a nice penthouse apartment, all the food, booze, books and 'Crystals' you could ever want for. Waited on hand and foot by some of my finest employees. And in return all I ask is that you to answer all and any questions I may have." The demon stepped uncomfortably close to Marv before offering the second option. "Or I simply take you, but instead, you come with me to hell, where I peel every bit of information I need from that giant noggin of yours piece by piece."
"Nice try, Crowley, I may look and feel abandoned but I still have an angel on my shoulder, keeping a close eye on me. You so much as lay a finger on me and a garrison of angels will be down here quicker than you could pierce my skin." Marv boasted. Crowley smiled.
"You mean this angel?" He asked as he snapped his fingers. The lifeless head of Thomas appeared in his hand, swinging grotesquely by his bloodied hair. "So which option is it going to be?" He asked.
Sam hadn't managed to sleep much and the little he did get left him feeling grumpy and groggy. He reluctantly returned to Dean's room. Taking one look at Faith, he sent her packing. "Go. Get some sleep, you look terrible," he ordered.
"That's rich coming from you. Did you get any shut eye at all?" She asked.
"Enough," he responded gruffly. Faith could tell that there was no point arguing with him, not in the mood he was in. As soon as she left, Dean turned to Sam, who was doing his best not to make eye contact with his big brother. He didn't want to be in the same room as him, let alone have a trademark Winchester moment.
"Sam, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know what I did was unforgivable, but I just need you to understand..." Dean tried to explain but Sam cut him off.
"Its fine, I'm fine. No harm, no foul, right?" He said coldly, looking in Dean's direction but still not meeting his eye. He began to busy himself with the files Faith had left open on the table. Dean turned away, the sting of anger and frustration in his eyes. He didn't blame Sam for his reaction, he just felt so helpless, so out of control. Even drained as he was now, it was a constant battle to not lash out at everyone in the bunker.
"You were right earlier, you know," Dean said without turning back around, Sam looked up but said nothing. "It's not enough, but I was right too," he said, finally facing Sam again. "You can't cure me. I'm not Crowley. I'm no run of the mill cross roads demon," he said.
"Well, what then? We just have Faith follow you around for the rest of her life?" Sam suggested sarcastically.
"No, not hers, just the rest of mine," Dean replied cryptically.
"What?" Sam questioned a little confused.
"The Blade, it killed Abbadon. Why not me?" Dean asked.
"Because without the Mark the Blade is useless," Sam said.
"I have the Mark, the Blade will work for me," Dean explained.
"What? No, that's suicide," Sam said, shocked.
"And what you do you call trying to cure me in the full knowledge that it would kill you?" Dean said desperately. Sam didn't respond. "Look Sam, no matter how this plays out, I'm not going anywhere pleasant afterwards. I'd rather go now instead of remaining here and becoming this monster," he pleaded.
"I don't know," Sam said.
"What don't you know, Sam? This is the only logical move," Dean said.
"I don't know," Sam repeated, slightly louder. "I think I'm just worried it might actually work," he finally admitted. Dean threw his hands in the air and then slammed them down on his side of the table. Sam visibly flinched, so Dean tried to calm himself.
"All the more reason to try," he said quietly, trying to show he was still in control.
"Look, let's just wait till Cas gets back with Faith's angel. See what she has to say," Sam suggested.
"Don't be so naïve Sam, there is no angel to find. If she was still alive she would have found a way to get back to Faith by now. Get in contact with her at least. She is dead and has been for some time now," Dean said harshly. "We need to do this and we need to do it now. Cas won't get it. He won't understand," he added impatiently.
"No, we wait, end of discussion," Sam said, putting an end to the conversation. Dean sat defeated in the chair, the only piece of furniture to be replaced in the trap. He sat and he stewed. His total lack of control, over himself, his freedom and now even his death was driving him crazy. He sat and didn't speak again. Sam and Faith took it in turns to sit with him, while the other ate, slept or simply stretched their legs. But there was no sign of the angel. Weakening grace or not he should have returned by now.
To Castiel's horror, when Father Murphy had handed him the stone he had felt nothing, no power, no strength and certainly nothing divine. It just felt like a pebble, nothing more. So reluctant to return to the Bunker with only bad news he travelled to Heaven instead. He needed to get a location on Marv; he had to find out how to access the stone's power, assuming it was the stone he was looking for at all. However, when he arrived all those in Heaven seemed to be in a collective panic. Hannah could be seen barking orders at numerous angels, while others frantically accessed computer terminals. But everyone and everything went silent when Castiel's presence was noted. Hannah did not look pleased to see him. She hurriedly approached him and led him off into a side room for privacy.
"What is going on?" He questioned. Hannah frowned, clearly not wanting to tell him. "Hannah?" He pressed not giving her the option.
"It's Metatron, Marv," she said. "We've lost him," she admitted.
"What?" Castiel snapped.
"Thomas is dead. Marv is missing," she said. "From what we can tell, it was demons," she informed him.
"Crowley," the trench-coated angel growled.
"It would seem so. Thomas was one of our most battle seasoned soldiers. A lesser demon would have been no match for him," she stated. "I have several angels on the hunt for Marv already, if he is still alive, we will find him," she promised.
"Nothing is of more importance. Crowley and Metatron together could spell the end of Heaven and Earth, we must, at all costs, separate them," Cas commanded.
"Do you really believe Metatron would betray us to a demon?" Hannah asked.
"I believe he is capable of anything if he feels it may be beneficial to him. I should have killed him when I had the chance," Castiel replied regretfully.
"Did his information help?" She asked, changing the subject and hoping her advise had been of some use. "Did you find the angel?" Castiel frowned at the question.
"She is dead, I'm afraid. I did however, find this." He said as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the turquoise stone. "But as far as I can tell, it is just a stone, it has no power," he added.
"May I?" Hannah asked. Castiel placed the stone in her open palm. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around it. It was clearly having an affect on her. She opened her eyes again and looked at Castiel disbelievingly. "Can you not hear that? Feel that?" She asked in what was almost a whisper.
"No," Cas answered, shaking his head.
"Castiel, this stone is possibly the most powerful thing I have ever held. It speaks," she said.
"I hear nothing," Cas admitted.
"It's your grace; it's so weak you are more human than angel," she closed her hand and eyes once again and repeated what the stone was saying to her. "Whoever accepts this power, accepts its burden," she looked at Cas once more and handed him back the stone. "It needs to be you, I'm sure of it. Castiel, you have to take Metatron's grace. You need to accept the responsibility of the Oubliette."
Dean still sat silently in the chair. He was beginning to slip again. He could feel it start to wash over him. He looked at his watch and frowned. Each time he remained himself for shorter and shorter periods. The situation was unsustainable, he knew it and he knew what he needed to do. He had spent his time on the chair formulating a plan. One that he hoped he could still play out even after the mark had grown stronger. But as his human side began to weaken again he started to doubt he would have enough self control not to seriously hurt someone once he put his plan into action. He needed to do it now before he was too far gone. For the first time he consciously forced his eyes to turn black. He watched as the colour faded from the world around him and then looked up at Faith, who was currently on babysitting duty.
"Shit," she said when she saw him. "Already?" she asked. Dean remained silent, just sat motionless in the chair. She approached him as she would a caged animal. "Easy now," she said as she crossed over into the trap. Still, he didn't move but his eyes followed her every move. Once she was close enough she reached out her hand to touch him. However his arms were longer and quicker. Full force, he drove his fist into her left side until he felt her ribs crack. The sensation brought him immense pleasure as did her face as it was taken over by a mix of shock and pain.
She doubled over, stumbling backwards. Dean stood up, grabbing her by the shoulders straightening her upright once again. He quickly drew back his other hand and landed another blow on the opposite side. The force of the punch caused her to slide backwards. This time, Faith heard the sickening crack. A burning pain shot up her side and along her back as the wind was knocked from her. Desperately her hand grappled for his, unable to locate it. Finally ignoring the agony it caused, she mustered the strength to lift her arm and slam her hand clumsily down onto his neck, making contact, flesh on flesh. As quickly as it began, it ended. Faith dropped to knees and then on to her side, trying to catch her breath while also fighting the evil she had allowed inside. Dean knelt beside her. She attempted to crawl away from him, still in fight or flight mode. She succeeded in dragging herself outside the trap before what had just happened became clear in her head. She looked from him to the floor and then shot him a look that begged him not to do what he was planning, but she was unable to vocalise her plea.
"Crap, I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant…" He stopped mid sentence, realising he didn't have time to explain. He looked up and yelled. "Sam!" In seconds Sam came running.
"What happened?" He asked.
"I did." Dean replied. "Her ribs, maybe a lung. She needs Cas." He ordered.
"He's not back." Sam said in a panic.
"Then she needs a hospital, now," Dean said. Sam looked at him.
"What? No. I can't leave," he said desperately.
"Sam if you don't and she dies. What then? Come on, where am I going to go?" Dean tried to reason. Sam frowned but helped Faith up and walked her out the door.
Dean wasn't happy, he never meant to do so much damage, but he had been darker that he realised. He looked down at the trap; at least it hadn't been for nothing. Where Faiths feet had dragged across the floor there was a four inch gap in the circle. He took a deep breath and stepped outside the trap, he was free.
He immediately went to the curse box hoping against hope that his assumption would be correct. He figured that attempting to gain access to the Blade just after Faith had drained him; he would appear human enough and could bypass the sigils on the box. He laid his hand on the lid but pulled it away quickly as the flesh on his palm began to burn. Regardless of the ugly blisters that appeared he tried again, this time ready for the pain. He managed to open the lid with relative ease, however he left several layers of skin behind, once he let go. It wasn't pleasant but it was bearable. He plunged his hand into the now open box, this time his entire hand up to his wrist burnt and blistered, but he did his best to ignore it. It was a small penance for what he had just done to Faith. He took a tight grip of the Blade and freed it from its own prison. Its power raced through him, healing his hand and filling him with its strengths and desires. If he was going to do this he was going to have to do it quick, while he still had enough control.
Upstairs, Sam and Faith hadn't yet made it as far as the study. Still unable to catch her breath, Faith struggled against Sam's aid as best she could, trying her damnedest to make him turn back and return to Dean. Every time, Sam assumed it was her injuries causing her to slow and pull away from him. She desperately tried to speak, but only whispers came out.
"Don't try to speak, I'm going to get you help," he said, almost picking her up. Frustrated by him not understanding her, she swung her foot and kicked him sharply in the shin. "Ouch," Sam said reflectively. He turned to look at her. "What the hell?" He complained. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head down to her level. With her mouth now next to his ear she tried again.
"He wasn't fully gone. He was faking," she whispered. Realising what this meant, Sam straightened up. Faith took a step back and leaned against the wall releasing Sam from his burden. "Go," she mouthed, pointing in the direction of Dean's room. Sam paused. "Go!" She managed to croak and shot him an impatient glare.
Sam made it back to Dean just in time to see his brother drive the First Blade deep into his own heart.
"Dean!" Sam yelled and was at his side as he fell to his knees, mouthfuls of blood spilling down his chin. "No, Dean, not again," Sam begged. Dean tried to answer, but only a gargling sound came out. He leaned forward, his hands on the floor in front of him as he tried to cough up the blood from his throat. He remained on all fours, waiting for it to end, for it all to be over. However, he quickly realised that he wasn't getting any worse. He felt the power of the Blade begin to build deep within his heart and then movement as it began to retract. The Mark on his arm glowed red as it expelled the Blade and healed him as it exited. He stayed still, unable to prevent his inevitable recovery, until finally the Blade dropped to the floor.
"Oh my God," Sam said, as Dean sat back on his knees, consumed with defeat. Sam pulled at Dean's shirt revealing his chest. Where there should have been a gaping wound there wasn't even a scratch. Dean looked at his brother for a moment not knowing what to say, what could he possibly say?
Then without thinking he grabbed the Blade and bolted from the room. Instincts kicked in, he knew he wasn't going back in that trap. He also knew running was a terrible idea but he had no choice, he needed to go, to get away from here. He didn't even pause as he passed Faith in the hall way, who could do nothing but watch as he sprinted out the door. Sam followed moments behind, making it to Faith as they heard the Impala roar into live and then disappear into the distance.
Cas stood alone, in a manicured garden, this was his favourite place in Heaven, somewhere he could go to be alone and to think. But he wasn't here to think, he had already done enough of that, now wasn't the time for thinking it was time for action. He held the vile of grace in his hand. Hannah was right; he had no choice but to take Metatron's grace. He couldn't put it off any longer. He popped the lid and watched as the white fog like material swirled inside. It slowly rose from the tiny bottle and the angel opened his mouth drawing it in. It took a brief moment to settle, once it had, a blinding light erupted from Castiel. He threw back his head allowing it to engulf him inside and out. He stumbled slightly as the light faded and for a second or two his eyes shone angelic blue.
He hadn't realised how truly weak he had become, how badly he had felt until now. Now that he was back to full power he saw just how close he had come to burning through the last of the stolen grace. He pulled the stone from his pocket and finally experienced the power Hannah had described. He also heard the words.
"Who ever accepts this power, accepts its burden." He closed his fingers around the stone.
"I accept," he said solemnly. This time blue-green light, the colour of the stone, shone through his closed fist. It travelled up his arm stopping in the centre of his chest, illuminating his rib cage. Its light continued to build in intensity until it reached it's peak and imploded into nothing. Cas opened his hand and looked at the stone. It still radiated divine power but having found an angel for its Oubliette, it no longer spoke. Cas cocked his head sensing something new. "Faith," he said before teleporting back to the bunker.
He arrived moments after Dean had made his escape. Faith was propping herself up against a table with her hands as Sam was on the phone. "You have pulled some stupid moves before, but this is a new level of stupid. Seriously, call me back!" Sam shouted down the phone before hanging up and spotting the angel.
"Cas, thank God," Sam said. The angel ignored Sam and went to Faith's side placing a hand on her back. Light passed from the angel to his Oubliette, healing her completely, while also re-powering her soul back to pre-'the fall' levels. Cas stepped back, Faith staring at him in shock. Sam also noticed the change in Cas. "You took Metatron's grace," he said, visibly relieved.
"Sarah, I mean Laylah, she is dead." Faith said sadly, tears in her eyes still staring at Cas, whose eyes were also locked on hers. Sam watched the strange interaction, not grasping what Faith had realised as soon as he touched her.
"I'm sorry," Cas confirmed. She stood silently for a moment, taking the pain and loss that was overwhelming her and burying it deep. She would allow herself to mourn her oldest friend when circumstances were less dire, or at least when she was alone.
"And you're…" She paused, not believing what her soul could feel. "You're my new angel?" She questioned. Still neither the angel nor Oubliette broke their intense eye contact.
"Yes," Cas again confirmed.
"How?" She asked.
"Whoa, hold up," Sam finally said, interrupting them. "Can someone let me know what is going on? Is it true? Are you Faith's new guardian?" He said to Cas. Faith finally looked away from her angel and addressed Sam.
"Castiel, he healed my injuries, but also my soul. I, as he is, am back up to full strength," Faith explained to Sam.
"Is this all because of Metatron's grace?" Sam asked. Both he and Faith turned to him for an answer.
"Partly, I needed his grace to be able to accept the Oubliettes stones power," Cas said cautiously. Faith and Sam exchanged looks of disbelief before Cas spoke again. "I hope you don't mind, I had no other choice," he said, a little unsure of how Faith was reacting to the news.
"Are you kidding me? I'm devastated to have lost Sarah, she has been with me from the very beginning, but I am honoured that you are willing to take on her role. If she could have chosen a replacement she would have approved of you I am sure of it," Faith answered him earnestly.
"How are you feeling Cas?" Sam asked, remembering the angel's fears.
"I harbour no wishes to overthrow Heaven if that is what you mean," he replied.
"Good," Sam said, "Because now, we have a serious problem."
Dean had been on the run for less than thirty minutes when his phone buzzed for the fifth time. He ignored it again, not wanting to try and explain himself or his actions to Sam. He wasn't able to explain it to himself. He didn't have a plan and was positive that by fleeing the bunker, he had made a disastrous mistake. But still, something wouldn't allow him to turn around. He wasn't going back inside that trap; he knew that much for sure.
The phone buzzed again. He relented, wanting to let Sam know he was ok, overpowering his wish to avoid an argument he knew he couldn't win. "Look, I know I shouldn't have left." He said as he answered it. To his surprise it wasn't Sam.
"No idea what you're talking about pal," Garth said, Dean could hear the grin on his face.
"Garth, sorry but now is not a good time," he sighed.
"It never is with you, is it?" Garth responded, in a whisper.
"Seriously Garth, what ever it is will have to wait," Dean replied.
"Not an option, homie, I afraid. I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't life or death," he spoke quickly. "I've got three fairly green hunters, against my advice, about to take on a nasty nest of vamps not far from your location." He said, his voice hurried and hushed. "They desperately need back up. I would go myself but I'm literally in the middle of a hunt myself. I need to take care of this wraith before I can head over, so, I'm going to be late to the party." Dean's phones beeped in his ear. "I've just sent you their coordinates. Thanks buddy, I owe you one," Garth finished, hanging up before Dean could refuse.
"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed as he pulled the car over and punched the coordinates into his GPS. "God damn it," he cursed again. Garth was good; Dean was less than fifteen minutes away. He took a quick internal look. He still felt fine. There was a strong possibility he could make it to the hunt, help take out the nest and be on the road before he started to slip again. Plus the idea of a hunt sounded pretty good to him right about now, a way to relieve some of his pent up anger and frustration.
The traffic was lighter than he had guessed and he pulled up outside an old warehouse in less than ten minutes. Next to a jeep stood three nervous looking kids, the oldest, no more than twenty five, the other two a couple of years younger. Dean got out of the Impala and the eldest approached him.
"You must be Garth," he said, holding out his hand which Dean ignored.
"No, he's running late. Sent me instead," Dean said, annoyed at Garth for not talking these kids out of what would have been a kamikaze mission.
"Great, I'm Peter, and these two here are Toby and Carl," Peter replied.
"Dean," Dean said gruffly. "What do we know?" He asked, not wanting to waste time on small talk and doing his best to ignore the delight on the faces of the younger two. The one on the right mouthed the word 'Winchester' to the other before they excitedly and silently high-fived each other. Peter again, spoke for the group.
"From what we can tell there are seven Vamps inside. They have picked off at least two dozen runaways and vagrants up and down the state over the past two weeks or so. They move on each night, this is the first time we have managed to locate them between feedings. We lose them now, who knows how many more people will be killed before we find them again." Peter explained. Dean looked at the building.
"Entrances and exits?" He asked.
"The main entrance is that door you see there. There is a cargo bay and another exit around the back," Peter informed him. Dean was somewhat impressed, they had done everything right so far and Peter delivered the information quickly and to the point.
"Ok, good work," Dean admitted. "Peter, you and Toby head for the door at the rear, Carl, you're with Me."
"Yes Sir," Carl chimed with an excited smile. Dean rolled his eyes as he headed for the door closest to them, Carl in tow. He watched the other two disappear around the corner of the building and then waited another sixty seconds or so, to give them time to reach their end before he pushed open the steal door and entered the warehouse.
Inside was pitch black but after a few seconds the world cleared up and came into focus for Dean. He realised he could see almost as well as he could outside in the daylight. Carl took out a flash light, clearly not possessing the same night vision as Dean. A noise to the left drew Dean's attention; he focused and found he could now zero in on it. A vampire may not have a heartbeat or have need to draw breath but they still made enough noise for Dean to hear and locate them easily. He could even tell how many there were and whether they were stationary or not without needing to get any closer. And there was the smell. He had never noticed it before but there was a coppery scent in the air. A smell of congealed blood that he instinctively knew was vampire. Turning his senses to the right he scanned the area, it was empty of predators, a couple of rats, an owl and a two dozen or so mice was all that direction promised. He motioned to Carl to head to the right, getting him out of harm and his way. Happy to be back in the hunt, Dean was chomping at the bit, he and his Blade both at the ready, neither wanting nor needing Carl for what was about to happen. He headed off, flanking the vampires until he found the door way into their room. There were five of them standing around a steel drum fire. He entered purposely making enough noise to gain their attention.
"Sorry, am I interrupting anything important?" He asked mockingly. The vampires collectively growled at Dean.
The first attacker was easy pickings. Dean took off in a fast paced sprint towards the scruffy vampire who was attempting to pounce at him. He took him out swiftly, running the First Blade through his neck with little effort. The second and third started at Dean in unison. He turned to the one on his right, giving it the same treatment as the first unlucky vamp, while with a wave of his hand; Dean sent the other flying across the room. The vampire crashed loudly into the opposite wall. The final two still standing, now knowing that Dean wasn't merely a suicidal human, advanced on him, fangs and knives at the ready. From nearly ten feet away, they lunged at him, in a heartbeat, Dean found himself on the other side of the attack, out of striking distance as the vampires landed roughly on the floor with Dean behind them admiring his new power.
"Teleportation. Awesome," he said to himself, smiling proudly. The vampire he had tossed across the room had rejoined his two buddies. Dean shot them a grin.
"Three against one, I like those odds," He taunted. Again, they advanced, one in the centre and the others on either side, slightly ahead. His trusty Blade took the head of the vampire on the right. His bare hand went to the throat of the attacker on his left, his nails digging deep, burrowing through skin, flesh and arteries until he felt spine. He gripped tightly and tore it out with a violent yank, severing the head in one grotesque and bloody motion. Dropping the slippery bone from his hand he let out a roar of ecstasy, distracted, the final vampire was on him before he could defend himself. Dean was knocked to the floor, the vamp straddling his chest; with his arms pined beneath the weight of his attacker, whose fangs were now only inches away from his neck.
Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. The vampire pulled away from him suddenly, his hands on his head in agony. Red light spilled from his eyes, nose and mouth, before the entire vampire exploded into a fine red mist.
Dean sat up, his eyes open again, but shining black and in true awe of his new powers. He had feed his desire but he was hungry for more. Almost on cue, as Dean picked himself up off the floor, Carl entered the room. Dean looked away, forcing his eyes to return to normal.
"Holy shit, I heard you were good, but four vamps, single handed, that's the stuff of legends," Carl said excitedly.
"Five," Dean corrected him. Carl scanned the room, recounting the bodies.
"You sure you counted right man? I only count four." Carl asked. Dean stood next to Carl making a show of counting the dead vampires no aware of the vampire mist hanging in the air.
"Hum, you're right, I must have counted wrong, it was actually six," Dean replied. Carl looked at him to see if he was joking. He continued to watch, frozen in horror, as Dean's hand shot towards his chest, ripping through his ribs and tearing out his heart with ease. Carl's eyes flashed from his own heart to Dean one last time, before he dropped to the floor. Dean threw the heart next to the hunter's lifeless body before leaving the room in search for the other hunters.
He easily found Peter and Toby at the rear of the warehouse, the pair of them standing proudly over two decapitated vampires.
"Where's Carl?" Toby asked, as soon as he spotted Dean approaching them alone.
"Sorry, he didn't make it," Dean grumbled attempting to sound bothered.
"Oh God!" Peter gasped.
"Eh, no, not quite," Dean replied, as he walked towards Peter. As he passed Toby, Dean dug his Blade deep into the unsuspecting hunter's stomach. The novice hunter's eyes widened and his hands went to his wound as Dean, barely pausing, continued advancing on Peter. Peter stepped back, drawing a hand gun and unloading the entire barrel into Dean's chest. Dean flinched but didn't slow as he continued to close in on him.
"What the hell?" Peter said, as he tossed his empty gun aside.
"You're getting warmer," Dean answered. Peter had nowhere left to retreat to; his back was flat against the wall, his feet frozen in place from fear. Dean grinned at him and Peter watched in horror as Dean, purely for dramatic effect turned his eyes black once again.
Neither predator nor prey said another word as Dean slowly pushed the First Blade into Peter's chest and drew it down to his waist. The last thing Peter heard were his insides spilling out and hitting the floor with the sickly splash.
"Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit." Toby babbled, still on his knees. Dean dropped the lifeless Peter to the floor and returned his attention to Toby. "No, please no." Toby begged as Dean bent over him. He tilted Toby's chin upwards exposing his neck. "Please, don't do this, I'm begging you." Toby cried. Dean said nothing, mercilessly tearing his Blade deep into the kid's throat, killing him instantly.
Dean stood there a moment, blood dripping from his hands and his Blade. He felt amazing, better and more alive than he had in years. The pain, the sickness were gone, the bloodlust fed, he was riding high on endorphins. He leaned over Toby one last time, wiping his Blade clean on the back of his jacket before returning outside to the Impala.
He grabbed a bag off of the back seat that had an emergency change of clothes and swapped his bloodied and bullet holed t-shirt for a clean fresh one. He was about to hop into the drivers seat when it dawned on him, he could teleport. He coldly tossed the keys in the mud next to 'Baby' and with a click of his fingers, he was gone.