A/N: Let's see what trouble Cas and Gabriel can get into today...
Episode 2: The New World Order
Castiel set the last candle in place around the edges of the summoning circle, and then lit the bundle of herbs over one of the flames. This was probably a long shot, but he and Gabriel had no other options at this point. If Heaven was closed, reapers probably couldn't get in and out, but Death would be able to. However, Castiel was uncomfortable summoning that entity directly—if he wasn't still sealed himself since the Apocalypse never started. In which case, this entire exercise was most likely futile. Still, they had to try.
Gabriel stood back a few feet, arms crossed and not helping. Castiel ignored him. It was his fault they were in this mess. After years of letting everyone think he was dead, Gabriel had suddenly swooped in like he was the hero they'd all been waiting for. Of course, he just ended up making things worse. Gabriel was no hero; he was a deserter. Castiel didn't know why he'd bothered coming back at all.
Castiel said the incantation that would summon a reaper, and then stepped back to wait. It didn't take long for one to appear in the circle, dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket instead of their customary formal attire. He looked around the abandoned warehouse, nose wrinkling with disdain.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly.
Castiel took a step forward. "We need passage into Heaven."
The reaper barked out a laugh. "Heaven? Don't waste my time."
"We know it's closed," Castiel pressed. "But you must have a back way in. Or…perhaps Death would have access…"
The reaper narrowed his eyes at Castiel, then Gabriel. His brows rose sharply. "You're halos."
"Er, yes," Castiel said.
"And apparently we're on the wrong side of the pearly gates," Gabriel put in impatiently. "So can you give us a lift or not?"
The reaper regarded them shrewdly for a long moment. "Sure," he finally said, taking a step closer and holding out his hands.
Castiel exchanged a look with Gabriel. It was strange not being greeted with hostility and biting hatred. Apparently, the Castiel in this world hadn't made a name for himself as the destroyer, and it seemed Gabriel hadn't become the Trickster, either.
Castiel turned back to the reaper. "Thank you."
He and Gabriel moved closer and let the reaper take hold of their shoulders, and then they were swept into a swirling vortex, not the ethereal currents that angels flew through, but a darker void between planes reserved for those who passed between life and death. It was suffocating to Castiel, but thankfully didn't last very long.
However, instead of coming out in a smooth landing, he was suddenly flung forward. He fell out of the void and crashed into a rock wall in a darkened chamber. Gabriel landed beside him with an oomph. Castiel instantly felt the oppressive pressure of warding, and hurried to push himself upright. There was a groan of metal, and he looked over in time to see the reaper slam an iron door shut. They'd been tossed in a cell.
"What is this?" Castiel demanded as he scrambled to his feet.
The reaper smirked at them. "I don't know where you two pansies came from, but angels are going to make me a very nice profit on the auction block."
"Auction block?" Castiel gripped the bars of their prison. "What are you talking about?"
The reaper just grinned. "You'll see." And with that, he turned and strode away.
Castiel gave the bars a rough yank, but they were firm. He spun toward Gabriel. "Are your wings capable of any flight?"
The Trickster's mouth was pressed into a flat line. "Not with this warding." His eyes roved over their prison with a constipated look.
Castiel furled his hands into fists. He should have mistrusted the reaper's readiness to help them. Things were so different in this world; Castiel should have assumed everything about the natural order would be changed somehow. Now they were stuck biding their time until they could find a way to escape—or at least learn what was going on.
It wasn't long before the reaper returned with four others in tow. They were carrying manacles and chains, and Castiel could see the sigils etched into the metal. He braced himself to fight back, but just as one of the reapers opened the door, the one who'd brought them here shot his palm up. With a flash of light, Castiel and Gabriel were thrown back against the wall and pinned.
Castiel's chest burned with exertion as he struggled against the invisible force, but he couldn't move. Even with the warding on the cell, the reaper should not have possessed this kind of power. Just like the pagan deities they'd encountered shouldn't have possessed the measure of strength they did.
The reapers moved in and snapped the manacles around the angels' wrists and ankles. A chain linked those together, locking their arms in front and pulled down. The chain between their fetters restricted their range of movement to a stumbling shuffle as they were yanked from the wall and hauled out of the cell. Castiel tried to get a sense of their location as they were dragged down a dark corridor, but he couldn't get a read on anything.
Noise filtered down from a passage up ahead, multiple voices shouting short clipped outbursts one right after the other. Then there was the sound of a dull thud, like a hammer striking wood. Castiel squinted against the bright torch light as he and Gabriel were brought into the chamber. It was full of people—well, not humans. Castiel spotted several demons, and even more entities with signatures that felt more like pagan deities. They were crowded in the center of the chamber, all facing a platform set against the back where a reaper in a suit stood at a podium holding a gavel.
"Next up, a bundle of fifty righteous souls," the reaper announced, and another brought up a glass container swirling with the pure light of human souls. "There's even a virgin or two in here," he went on. "Who would like to start off the bidding?"
"Ten gold bricks!"
"Twenty!"
"The Mona Lisa!"
Castiel could only stare, slack jawed. This was much more horrific than he could have imagined. Righteous souls should have been destined for Heaven. But Heaven was closed…and instead of the souls being trapped in the Veil for eternity, the reapers had apparently come up with another way to deal with them. Was this how the pagans had become so powerful even after all these centuries?
He glanced at Gabriel, who looked just as flabbergasted as Castiel felt.
The gavel struck the podium, startling him. "Sold! For the Acathe Grimoire."
The container of souls was removed from the stage, and then Castiel and Gabriel's captors were tugging them forward. Castiel tripped on the steps up to the platform, and gritted his teeth as he was shoved into the center to be put on display.
"This is a rare item, folks," the auctioneer said with a grin. "Two angels, fallen from the sky. More powerful than a hundred human souls. Shall we start the bidding off for the short one at…two hundred?"
"Two hundred?" Gabriel repeated, sounding affronted.
"Two hundred!" someone shouted.
"Two-fifty!"
"A magic carpet!"
"Are you joking?" Gabriel sputtered. "I could whip one of those up like candy."
The auctioneer arched a brow. "Hear that, folks? Buy an angel, get a magic carpet free. I think this one's worth something more rare and valuable."
"Excalibur!"
Gabriel rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Puhleeze. That rusty old sword? That no one can use but Arthur?"
"Thor's Hammer!"
Gabriel paused. "Oh, now that's interesting…"
"Gabriel," Castiel snapped under his breath. How could he find anything amusing about this? They needed to get out of here. …But with how powerful all these entities were with the souls in their possession, escape was seeming less and less possible.
"The Apple of Discord!"
"One hundred thousand souls," a new voice with a deep accent boomed over the crowd.
The din silenced and all heads turned. Through the parting throng, Castiel spotted a man in a white suit with a grizzly beard and scarred face. His eyes flashed yellow. "For both of them."
"Uh-oh," Gabriel murmured.
Oh, now he was worried. But Castiel couldn't help the lump that started constricting his throat with apprehension. That demon…it had been years since Castiel had seen one of his kind, and only from a distance. He was a Prince of Hell.
There was a pregnant pause in the chamber before the auctioneer cleared his throat and banged his gavel. "Sold!"
"No," Castiel growled as his arms were seized and he was manhandled from the platform.
He and Gabriel were dragged from the chamber as the next item came up for auction. They were forced down another dark corridor and into a separate room with crates and boxes in the middle of being packed. The demon in the white suit strode in from another door a few moments later, a canister glowing with souls in his hands. His eyes gleamed hungrily as he looked Castiel and Gabriel up and down.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Asmodeus," the reaper who'd captured them said, taking possession of the canister.
"Oh yes," the demon drawled with a heavy southern accent. "You two boys are mighty fine prizes."
Castiel clenched his jaw. He wasn't a prize, or an object to be bartered.
Gabriel puffed his chest out. "You listen here," he started.
Asmodeus backhanded him across the face so hard the slap reverberated through the room. Gabriel stumbled to the side, almost being knocked off his feet.
"You'll speak when spoken to, boy," the demon spat. He adjusted his suit. "You'll learn, though."
Castiel sucked in a deep breath. They needed to escape, now, before the demon could take them to Hell. An auction item was sitting on a nearby crate—a sword. Castiel snatched it up, and though he was still bound in chains, he swung that sword around with all his might at the reapers behind him. The blade cut them down easily, possessing some kind of magical properties. Castiel spun toward the demon, but before he could strike, the Prince of Hell shot two fingers at him, and a crushing force punched him in the chest, flinging him back into some crates. He crashed to the floor in a shower of splinters and packing straw. The sword was yanked from his hands.
"Lesson one, then," Asmodeus said, deceptively calm. "You're mine now."
Castiel blinked up at the Prince standing over him, but before the demon could do anything, Gabriel tackled him from the side, and they both went sprawling to the ground. But Asmodeus shoved Gabriel off like he was nothing. Not only was this a Prince of Hell, but their powers were cut off and currently bound by the spelled manacles.
Castiel frantically looked around, and snatched up a long nail from the broken crate, palming it just before Asmodeus stomped back over to him. With a flick of his hand, fire erupted in Castiel's stomach, and he curled up with a strangled cry. In the background, he heard Gabriel let out a cry of pain as well.
"I will break you," the demon snarled. He crooked his fingers, and Castiel's world exploded with agony. A hand gripped the back of his neck hard, and in the next instant, he was sucked into a void worse than the one the reaper had traveled through.
When he emerged, he was flung to the hard floor again where he folded double around his cramping stomach. He heard a grunt next to him, and pried his eyelids open to find Gabriel on the ground, also clutching his abdomen. Craning his head, he managed to get a glimpse of stone walls, wrought iron lamp fixtures and torches, and a throne set on a small dais. It looked like a cross between a medieval dungeon and throne room. But it wasn't in Hell, that much Castiel was able to sense.
Asmodeus waved his hand, and chains hitched to the sides of the throne lashed out to wind around the links already binding them, chaining them like dogs on the floor. The demon then casually strode over to an antique cabinet and pulled out a thin wooden box.
"Souls may be the main source of power in this economy," he mused out loud. "But an angel's grace, mm, now that's somethin' special."
He drew out a large syringe with a fat vial. Castiel's eyes blew wide as he recognized that type of make.
Asmodeus turned toward them, yellow eyes gleaming lasciviously.
"Uh, what is that?" Gabriel spoke up.
Asmodeus marched over, and Castiel gritted his teeth as he struggled against the chains. But the demon stopped at Gabriel first. With a leering grin, he grabbed a fistful of Gabriel's hair and yanked his head back and to the side, exposing his neck.
"No!" Castiel shouted as Asmodeus jabbed the needle into Gabriel's carotid. Gabriel let out a cry of surprise and pain, but then as soon as Asmodeus started pulling the plunger back, a scream ripped from the archangel's throat. Swirling blue grace splashed into the vial.
Castiel thrashed in his chains, to no avail.
Asmodeus flashed him a dark look. "Wait your turn," he growled, releasing Gabriel's hair in order to shoot that hand toward Castiel. It felt like barbed hooks tearing into his internal organs, and he collapsed on his side.
A moment later, Asmodeus withdrew the needle. Gabriel crumpled, panting heavily and making a horrible keening noise in the back of his throat. Castiel watched in confusion as the demon rolled up his sleeve and turned the syringe toward his own arm, and then he gaped in horror as Asmodeus injected himself with Gabriel's grace.
The demon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, a contented rumble issuing from him as he absorbed the grace. Was he insane?
When he opened his eyes, the yellow was swirling. "Aah, that's some good stuff." He turned a contemplative look toward Gabriel. "Archangel grade, if I'm not mistaken. How interesting. Which one are you?"
Gabriel didn't answer or even look up, just kept shaking on the floor.
Asmodeus squatted down and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, son, you'll get used to it."
Castiel stiffened as the demon stood again, but Asmodeus didn't seem interested in extracting any of Castiel's grace at the moment. He returned the syringe to the box and put it away, and then left the chamber, leaving them alone.
Castiel immediately fingered the nail he'd grabbed at the auction house and twisted his arms up and around so he could reach the lock on his manacles. He didn't have the best angle, and he wasn't as proficient at this as the Winchesters were, but he'd learned the mechanics and knew he could get it.
After several long moments of struggling, he spared a glance at Gabriel, who was still curled up on the floor, but had stopped shaking.
"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, keeping his voice low.
Gabriel didn't respond right away. "How would you feel if Kentucky Fried vampire sucked out some of your grace?" he finally retorted hoarsely.
Castiel's jaw tightened. "Metatron cut out my grace with an angel blade, so I know it feels like lava when it pours out, and then a cold emptiness, like you've been hollowed out with a scythe and left with nothing but a thin shroud between you and nothingness." He bit back his amplifying bitterness and refocused on picking the lock. "He didn't take all your grace, did he?" he asked a moment later.
Gabriel was quiet. "No, he didn't," he said softly. He pushed himself up with a groan and furrowed his brows. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to pick the lock. Dean taught me not too long ago." With how often he'd been at low power over recent years, it'd seemed prudent to learn some mortal methods of coping with capture.
Gabriel watched him work at it for several more minutes, casting anxious looks toward the door, but there was no sound of Asmodeus returning.
He cleared his throat. "When did Metatron cut out your grace?"
"When he cast the angels from Heaven. There was a little bit left over after his spell, which I got back later. But you didn't care about that then, so why would you now?"
Gabriel lowered his voice. "I didn't know he'd done that to you."
"Because you weren't around."
Castiel gave himself a sharp shake. He needed to concentrate, not hash things out with his AWOL brother while they were still prisoners of a Prince of Hell who wanted to milk them for power like cattle.
He finally heard and felt the click, and jerked ramrod straight as his manacles unlatched. Castiel tore them off, feeling some of his grace unfettered, and bent over to do the shackles on his feet with a renewed sense of urgency. After a few false tries, he finally got those unlocked as well. Casting the chains away, he shifted to undo Gabriel's next.
"So when Metatron took your grace, you were…"
"Human."
"Right. I guess that's when you learned human things like picking locks and driving a car."
"I had to adapt or die," Castiel said. He wasn't going to mention the stolen grace. "And I needed to find a way to fix things. Because I wasn't going to turn my back on Heaven."
The first set of manacles came off, and Castiel moved to the second.
Gabriel looked like he was going to respond, but Castiel had gotten the rhythm down and made quick work of the last lock. The chains fell loose, and he stood quickly.
"Come on."
Gabriel pushed himself up with a struggle, obviously weakened from having a bit of his grace siphoned off. Castiel reached out to take his arm to help brace him as they moved toward the door.
The outer corridor was dark and empty, yet Castiel still kept his guard up as he picked a direction and kept moving. They rounded a corner and pulled up short as two demons blocked their path. Black eyes bored into them as the demons lowered themselves into aggressive crouches.
"Sound the alarm," one hissed.
Castiel whipped his angel blade out and threw it through the air. The blade skewered the second demon through the neck before he could follow the other's orders. Castiel surged forward, meeting the remaining demon head on. He didn't try to smite it, knowing that being cut off from Heaven meant it wouldn't work anyway. He punched the demon in the jaw, blocked a retaliatory blow, and took one hit to the stomach before he managed to pivot around the demon's back and retrieve his angel blade from the dead one. Then Castiel thrust his weapon into the demon's sternum, lighting it up with fractured orange lightning.
Castiel yanked his blade free and let the body drop. "Hurry," he urged, turning to take the lead down the hall in case there were other demons. He could hear Gabriel panting a few paces behind him.
But they made it to the exit without running into any more obstacles, and Castiel burst out onto a porch. Keeping his angel blade firmly in his grip, he waited for Gabriel to catch up, then ushered him ahead so Castiel could cover him from behind.
They hurried down the steps and into the street, making a dash for the woods across the way. Gabriel was staggering, but Castiel kept pushing him. They needed to put a good amount of distance between them and Asmodeus. The demon would not be happy when he realized they'd escaped, and even with his grace now unbound, Castiel didn't think he'd be a match for the Prince of Hell.
They kept going until the woods thinned out into more urban dwellings, and Castiel led the way into a foreclosed pool supply store. Once inside, Gabriel collapsed to the floor against the counter, chest heaving and sweat beading his brow.
Castiel pursed his mouth. With their inability to recharge through a connection to Heaven, Gabriel would probably need longer to recover.
"We can wait here for nightfall," he said. "Then I'll go find us a vehicle."
Gabriel didn't respond for several moments. "Look, Cas," he finally spoke up, "if I'd known what Metatron had done…"
"You knew the angels had been cast out of Heaven."
"Yeah, and I knew that was a mess I really didn't want to get in the middle of."
Castiel whirled on him. "And the spawn of Lucifer is?" He shook his head in frustration. "Why did you come back now?"
Gabriel pushed himself up straighter. "Lucifer's kid is a big deal."
"The Darkness was a big deal. You didn't show up for that."
"Yeah, well, Amara was looneyville. This nephilim…I know what everyone's going to think about it, and I know how demented Luci is. But that's no reason to write the kid off as evil before it's even born."
Castiel let out a derisive scoff. "So you care about a nephew you've never met, but not your other siblings."
"You know I care about my brothers. That's why I couldn't stand the fighting."
"There will be fighting over the nephilim," Castiel retorted. "Or was your plan to just whisk Kelly away and keep the child hidden from everyone yourself?"
Gabriel winced.
Castiel snorted. "Thought so."
"What's wrong with me wanting to keep the peace?" he snapped.
"Your peace, Gabriel. Never mind the consequences to those left behind."
Gabriel opened his mouth, only to hesitate. He swallowed. "Cas—"
Castiel pivoted toward the door. "Get some rest," he said gruffly. "I'll keep watch."
Because as much as he may have wanted to, Castiel didn't abandon his family when they were in need. But he'd come to realize over the past year that his fellow angels weren't really his true family anymore. The Winchesters were. Castiel wanted to get back to them, wanted to help them with the nephilim and protect them if he could.
And Gabriel…Gabriel could leave, just like he always did.
Castiel tipped his head back and watched the sun sink lower in the waning afternoon sky, missing home, and trying not to worry about the dangers in this strange and terrifying new world.