A/N: Thank you guest Kathy for your review! Last chapter, folks. And I regret to announce that I have finally come to the end of a very long and proud posting streak of twice a week for two whole years. Or, I should say my twice a week posting of SPN fics (I do have a Shadowhunters fic that will continue through next week). But my queue for SPN has run out. Not my muse or ideas, and I'm currently working on a fic now, which I hope to have ready for you in another week.
Chapter 3
Dean swept his gaze around the empty library. Where had the intruders gone? And where was Sam? The witches must want something; otherwise why keep prisoners? Dean was betting these were the same guys who had cursed them all to begin with, most likely as a way to throw them off guard. It had worked.
But they were too cocky if they thought one Winchester and an angel didn't need to be guarded, even with one of them blind and Dean's hands cuffed behind him to a steam pipe against the wall.
He drew his legs in tightly and strained to reach the lock pick in his boot. Once he palmed it, he set to work on his cuffs, keeping an eye out for the witches returning. His heart hammered with worry for Sam. What if those bastards were torturing him? Dean wouldn't be able to hear a thing. He looked at Cas, who was still lying on the floor, face devoid of expression. Dean took that to mean Sam wasn't somewhere in the bunker screaming.
The lock finally snicked and Dean slipped out of the cuffs, then turned to undo Cas's. Once they were off, Cas started to push himself up into a sitting position, grimacing as he did so.
Dean frowned. "You okay?"
Cas nodded, but Dean just scowled. Was he really expecting a different answer? He'd seen the witch cast some kind of spell that had knocked the angel out completely, but then he'd gotten his own sucker punch that made him black out for a bit, so he hadn't been able to do anything about it.
Dean cast a tense look around the library again. Now came the tricky part of how to fight against these guys. Cas, unfortunately, wasn't gonna be much help, and Dean hated the feeling of vulnerability from not being able to hear someone coming down the hall toward them. He'd have to be careful.
He slunk forward to one of the study tables and retrieved the gun that was strapped to the underside of it. He checked the magazine and sighed. They needed to get some witch killing bullets. Because killing these guys was how they'd break the curse.
Dean turned back to Cas and tried to speak softly, though it was hard to judge the volume of his own voice. "I need to get to the storage rooms for more ammo."
Cas grabbed the pipe on the wall behind him and started to lever himself up.
Dean's mouth pressed into a thin line as he considered his options. He didn't want to leave Cas here while the angel was vulnerable, but guiding him through the bunker was going to slow him down. He briefly thought about finding a room and asking Cas to stay put, but knew that was never gonna happen. Cas would never sit this out as long as he was worried about the Winchesters. And the last thing Dean needed was his friend stumbling into the middle of a fight unprepared.
So he moved back to Cas and took his arm to help him to his feet. "Stick close."
Cas raised his hand and snagged Dean's sleeve at the elbow, then started following as Dean cautiously made his way into the war room and around to one of the corridors. The snail's pace increased his anxiety, but it was only partly due to guiding Cas; the other part was Dean's own tension at not being able to hear what might be around the corner. So it was slow going, but eventually they made it to one of the storage rooms where they kept their weapon supplies.
Dean disengaged from Cas's grip and patted his hand. "Okay, wait right here."
He moved to one of the shelves and started rifling through the cartridges in search of the special bullets. There they were. Dean ejected the magazine from his gun and quickly started swapping out the ammunition. Once again, he thought about leaving Cas in here where it'd be safer while he ventured out to take care of the witches, but just as he finished loading the gun, Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him to the floor.
Dean landed on his back with a grunt, Cas falling on top of him. Above his head, magic exploded against the wall with a shockwave that Dean felt in his ribcage rather than heard. Sparks flew and the lights went out, replaced by the flashing aura of the red emergency lights.
Cas tumbled off of him and Dean immediately rolled onto his stomach, gun in hand, and fired off three rounds at the female witch standing in the doorway. Her body stumbled backward with the impact until she dropped like a dead weight.
Dean scrambled to his feet and hurried over to make sure she was dead. Vacant eyes reflected red as the emergency lights pulsed, briefly illuminating the bright red liquid pooling around her body. Dammit, so much for stealth. Dean may not have heard any of that, but the other two witches would. He could only hope this would work in his favor, hopefully distract the witches and get them to separate, make it easier to pick them off.
And he dearly hoped they wouldn't hurt Sam if they realized their plan was going to hell.
Dean rushed back into the storage room to reload three more bullets into the mag, then decided to fill a second as backup and tucked it in his pocket. He turned to Cas, who'd gotten up off the floor and was standing rigidly, head slightly canted as though listening.
Dean frowned. "How'd you know she was there?"
Cas pointed to his ears.
He took a deep breath. "Right. Okay." Stepping closer, Dean took Cas's hand and guided it up to take hold of his elbow again. "You be my ears."
Cas nodded, and together they crept out into the hall.
Sam pushed a box aside on the shelf and pulled another one forward, opening it to look inside. He had a hard time holding the flap up and searching through the contents with his wrists cuffed together, but the witches seemed intent on leaving them on. They'd given him a description of the item they'd gone to all this trouble to attain, and Sam had recognized it. He didn't know what it was or what it did, but he figured handing it over to these guys would be a very bad idea, so he was feigning not knowing exactly where it was. Which wasn't technically a lie, but he wasn't giving away that there was a catalog system he could use to look up the item's shelf and slot number.
Instead, Sam kept randomly searching through boxes, hoping he wouldn't accidentally come across it, and hoping he could buy enough time for Dean and Cas to escape and come after them.
…If they could. Dean had been knocked unconscious, and Cas had looked worse, eyes frozen open yet unmoving as he'd been hauled across the floor and dumped next to Dean against the wall. He wasn't dead, though; couldn't be since the witches had bothered to handcuff him, too.
But Sam was still worried, and he kept flicking surreptitious looks around to see if there was any way he could break free from his captors or incapacitate them. The two male witches had stayed with him, while the female had left not long after they'd arrived at the artifact room.
The leader jabbed his shoulder. "What's taking so long?" the guy snapped.
Sam turned and threw his bound hands up dramatically since he couldn't respond with a vocal, "What do you want me to do?"
The witch scowled. "Keep searching."
His companion moved to start tearing into boxes himself, but barely got through the first one when the lights suddenly went out, replaced with the dim pulsing of the emergency lights.
"What the hell?"
Sam felt a thrill of hope that Dean and Cas were probably behind it. These witches really had no idea who they were up against.
"Go find Janice," the leader barked, and the second witch scurried out of the room.
Sam's odds of fighting back were better now… The witch grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the wall.
"Enough games," he snarled. "Tell me where the box is!"
Sam just shot him a pointed look and moved his mouth soundlessly. Yeah, he'd get right on that, as soon as they gave him his voice back.
The witch sneered. "Fine. We'll just kill you and have this place to ourselves to look as long as we need to. Plus, killing the Winchesters and an angel should give us a lot of street cred."
Sam was sorely tempted to roll his eyes. Bigger guns than you have tried, he wanted to say, but, obviously, couldn't. He settled for lunging forward and body slamming the witch with enough force to send the guy crashing backward to the floor. Sam leaped on top of him, intending to knock him out, but wasn't fast enough to stop him from uttering, "Abi!"
Sam's legs flipped out from under him as he went flying, narrowly missing a shelving unit and sliding across the floor instead. He landed near the door, and so scrambled to his feet and darted out into the corridor.
The bunker didn't stay dark long; as Sam sprinted down the passageways, the lights came back on. Another sign that Dean was out there somewhere. Sam headed toward the control center.
He rounded the next corner and promptly skidded to a stop as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun. Dean's eyes widened and he jerked the weapon to the side.
"Sam." Dean looked him up and down. "You okay?"
Sam nodded, giving them quick once-overs as well.
Dean stuffed his gun in his waistband and took Sam's wrists, producing a lock pick. "I killed the chick," Dean said in a low voice, as though he were trying to consciously control his volume. "But I guess she wasn't the one who cursed us."
The handcuffs came free and Dean drew his weapon again. "You take any out?"
Sam shook his head regretfully.
Cas suddenly flailed an arm toward Dean and pointed behind the two of them. Sam tensed as the second male witch rounded the corner down the hall. Dean whipped his gun up and fired, but the bullets slammed into a protective shield that flared up in front of the witch.
Dean blinked in dismay. "Crap."
He and Sam both grabbed Cas's arms and started pulling the angel down the corridor with them the opposite direction. They veered toward the library, and Cas tripped on the two steps at the juncture. Sam and Dean barely slowed down to haul him up and keep moving.
"Anyone have any bright ideas?" Dean shouted.
"Sam, get Dean behind me and both of you shut your eyes," Cas ordered.
Sam's eyes widened as he realized Cas's intentions, but he hesitated as the angel kept jerking his head from side to side. There were too many openings into the library and Cas would be a second too slow trying to pinpoint the witches by hearing alone, especially if they came in at different spots. Someone else would have to be his eyes.
Sam grabbed Cas's arm and Dean's, and dragged them both to a corner where they had the widest view of the room. Sam then took Cas by the shoulders and positioned him so he was facing outward.
"Sam, what—" Dean started, but Sam cut him off by yanking him around behind Cas's shoulder. Sam then pointed to Cas, pointed outward, and waggled his fingers.
Dean gave him a dubious look. "Sparkle fingers?"
Sam shot him a bitch-face and snatched the gun out of his hand, setting it on the nearby shelf and then directing Dean's hands to wrap around Cas's arm and raise it like he was aiming that instead. He then lifted his eyebrows as high as he could in pointed meaning.
Dean's expression shifted in understanding.
Cas fidgeted nervously. "Sam, no. You and Dean have to close your eyes."
Sam clasped his shoulder and squeezed as hard as he could to convey that he understood, and he'd take care of it. He then made eye contact with Dean and pointed two fingers at his eyes, then outward in the gesture to be on the lookout and get ready. Then he stepped behind his brother. Dean straightened and adjusted his hold on Cas's arm as he scanned the library. Sam could hear them coming, even though his brother couldn't. This would all come down to a split second's reaction time. Sam braced himself.
The two witches came charging in from the back corridor. Dean swung Cas's arm toward them and shouted,
"Now!"
Sam clapped his hands tightly over his brother's eyes while squeezing his own shut. Blinding light pushed against his eyelids and screams filled the air.
Castiel retracted his grace the second after its power reached critical mass to incinerate anyone who witnessed the divine glory. The air fizzled with the echo of it, but Dean's hand still firmly wrapped around Castiel's arm assured him that the older Winchester hadn't been hurt in the explosion. He also felt Sam's presence pressed close behind them.
In the next instant, the darkness that had blanketed Castiel's vision suddenly lifted, and he blinked at the sight of the library in disarray, lamp shades on the floor and broken glass from the bulbs scattered about. The bodies of two men were sprawled on the floor as well, eyes burned out. Between them, what looked like a monkey totem lay in pieces.
Castiel turned to Sam and Dean, relieved that he could see for himself that they were okay.
Sam cast a gaping look around the library, then swallowed hard. "Is it over?" he asked tentatively. His face lit up at the sound of his voice. "Oh, thank god."
"I can hear!" Dean exclaimed. He looked at Castiel questioningly.
Castiel gave him a small smile. "The curse has been lifted." He walked over to the bodies and nudged a chunk of the totem with his shoe. "And I don't believe it will ever plague any unsuspecting victims in the future."
"Good riddance," Dean muttered.
Sam came over to stand next to Castiel. "I wonder who these guys were," he mused.
"Nobodies," Dean replied with a scowl. "Nameless schmucks who were too stupid to know better than to try going up against us."
Sam rolled his eyes, but it didn't look like he necessarily disagreed. "Where's the other body?"
"Outside the weapons storage room," Dean answered, shaking his head. "I hate cleaning up after yahoos like this. We should install an in-home incinerator or something."
Sam's nose scrunched up in distaste, though Castiel pondered the usefulness of such an addition. He helped the Winchesters dispose of the bodies and then clean up the library, since it was partly his grace that had damaged the decor. It didn't take too long to straighten everything up between the three of them.
Once it was all done, Castiel sank into a chair at one of the study tables. "I do regret losing yet another vehicle," he commented morosely. It would be difficult to get around without his own set of wheels.
Dean glanced over at him, brow furrowing. He glanced at his watch. "Your truck is probably still there."
"It may not be drivable," Castiel countered glumly.
Dean shrugged. "Then I'll fix it up." He tapped the table. "Come on."
Castiel hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Dean's mouth curved upward at the unmistakable hopefulness Castiel hadn't quite been able to keep out of his tone. "I'm sure. I mean, it's kind of an old piece of junk, but you like it, so…" He cocked his head for Castiel to get up and follow him out. "I'll grab some cables and if it's not drivable, we'll tow it back to the bunker. Baby can handle the haul."
Castiel gave him a soft smile as he rose from his chair. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that."
"You know, Cas," Sam spoke up. "We made quite the team tonight."
Castiel canted his head, mouth quirking fondly. "We usually do."
Sam smiled, but then his eyes sobered meaningfully. "Yeah. So maybe the three of us should look for Lucifer together."
Castiel opened his mouth to immediately respond that Lucifer was his responsibility, but something held him back. He wanted to protect the Winchesters, but tonight's events showed him that being away didn't exactly accomplish that. What if Lucifer had been behind this ploy after all?
Though, even if he had, Castiel didn't imagine the outcome would have been very different. The three of them usually did manage to beat the odds.
Castiel finally nodded. "Maybe we should."
After all, their teamwork was the one thing Lucifer had never been able to defeat.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
