Alpha and Omega
Annaleise Marie
Chapter Three: Rihtwisnes
AN: This chapter required a lot of research, so I'm very sorry if there's anything I missed or got wrong.
Thanks so much to everyone who has read and added this story to their lists so far! Big thanks to Lupinista and sonyakitzmiller for reviewing the last chapter! I loved hearing from you guys.
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The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom; his tongue speaks that which is just. The instruction of his God in his heart, his steps do not falter. – Psalms 37:80
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Dean woke up again with a start, blinking to try to force his eyes to adjust to the dark motel room. Cas was seated at the table, his eyes focused on Alpha. The way they were staring at each other, unblinking, was unnerving to say the least, but it had nothing on the way Omega was staring at Dean.
"Dean." Cas didn't move his eyes from Alpha as he addressed the hunter. "Alpha wants to know how long we must stay here."
"Didn't you hear…" It hit him after a moment and he jumped up. "She ninja'd into my freaking dreams!" It wasn't the first time that a supernatural being had hijacked his dreams for their own purposes, but it still made him feel somehow violated.
"She spoke to you?" Cas' low voice was laced with worry. "So it is starting?"
Dean ran his hand through his short hair, looking around and spotting Sam's phone on the table that separated the two beds. He picked it up and tossed it at his brother, hitting him in the shoulder. "Wake up, Sammy!"
Same came out of sleep swinging for a moment before he remembered where he was, a habit he had developed following his time in the psych ward. "What's goin' on?" His voice was thick with sleep as he blinked blearily at the others.
"My father has spoken to Dean." Cas appeared to be struggling to maintain an unaffected voice. "Privately." He couldn't resist tacking on the bitter word.
Dean couldn't think of anything to say to the angry angel, so he focused instead on relaying the message, and the resulting deal, to them. The story was met with heavy silence.
It was Sam who finally spoke. "A hundred righteous souls…" His brow was furrowed as he mulled it over. "It'll take some time, but it doesn't seem impossible."
"You may be surprised how difficult it will be," Cas disagreed.
"Come on. Dean is a righteous man. Our father was a righteous man. The standards can't be that high."
Dean snorted. "Thanks, Sammy." But his brother had made a fair point. "What exactly makes a soul righteous?"
"You cannot make a soul righteous, they just are."
Sam ignored Cas, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Apparently they drink whiskey like it's water, sleep with anyone who bats an eyelash at them, commits credit fraud, and impersonates federal and private officials." He looked innocently at his brother, his head cocked slightly to the side.
"Oh, screw you, Sam. I'm not the one who hopped into bed with a demon set on bringing about the end of the world."
That shut Sam up. Still, Cas waited a moment to see if the argument would escalate before returning to the original question. You never could tell with the Winchesters.
"My father does not care about such trivial things." He stood up and walked over to Dean, circling the hunter slowly. "As I said, a soul is not made righteous, it simply is righteous. When your language was new, it was called rihtwisnes. It meant, simply, right-ways-ness. A righteous soul will demand to follow the right way, regardless of the mind's attempts to follow any other path. So while Dean may be a drunk, philandering, liar—"
Dean made an irritated noise and raised an eyebrow at the angel, trying to hint at him to get to the point.
Cas, of course, was not the type to pick up on any such hint. He continued as though there had been no interruption. "—and you could argue that he is morally reprehensible in every way, that is not the point. The righteous soul is concerned with what's just, and helping those in need. And above all, the soul puts family first. Particularly spouses and, for some reason, brothers." Cas stopped his slow circling and looked pointedly at Sam. "That is why you are not a righteous man."
"And our father was?" Sam asked, his eyes flashing, jaw set.
"Yes." Cas studied Sam's face for a moment. "I don't understand your anger. This is not new information."
"Based on everything you've said, our father was the very last person who should have been called righteous!" Sam ran his hand through his hair irritably. "I'm not mad because I'm not, I get that, I just don't understand why he was!"
"He put his marriage and his sacred vows before all else when he was alive, and even now he is on the rack to keep other souls off of it." Cas didn't blink, even as Dean made a move as though to grab him angrily.
Dean's hand fell to his side as he turned away. It had felt like a cheap shot, but of course Cas had a point. He had gotten off of the rack. He had put souls on, and picked up the knife, and started the whole stupid thing the first time around.
This time would be different, though. This time he would end it before it even started.
As though he could hear Dean's thoughts, Cas continued. "You've spotted the problem, however. Righteous souls often do not appear so, and wickedness is often meant with the best intentions."
Dean sighed, rolling his neck to relieve the tension that had already settled in, despite only having been awake for a short time. "So how do we find them, then?"
Cas looked puzzled. "We look, of course."
Sam gaped at him and Dean scoffed derisively.
"Great," the older Winchester said dryly. "And here I was worried your answer would be vague."
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A half hour later, the hunters, the angel, and the twins were all crammed into the Impala. Sam was at the wheel as Dean surveyed a list of people they knew who might fit the bill. The problem was, most of the people that came to mind—Jo, Ellen, hell, maybe even Ash—were dead. It left him with a short list. Even if he was right about everyone on it, he still wouldn't have been able to produce enough righteous souls to save Sodom and Gomorrah.
"How do we know if we've found a righteous one?" Sam asked as they pulled out of the motel parking lot. "Can you see them or something?"
It took Cas a moment to realize the younger Winchester was addressing him. "Not on this plane. I could see Dean's soul in Hell. It was how I found him to pull him out. But in Earth…I have to touch."
Sam winced. He knew what that was like, and he had no desire to inflict that pain on anyone else.
Dean, seeing this, turned to look at the occupants of the backseat. "Okay, what about the Wonder Twins, then?" His gaze flickered to Omega, who was staring at him blankly. "What about you, chatterbox? This is your deal, after all."
The girl turned her gaze to Cas, who appeared to be listening intently. "This is not her deal, Dean. She merely relayed the message."
Dean huffed, turning back to face the road. "Got a car full of Confucius here."
Sam looked at Cas in the rearview mirror. "Okay, fair enough, but can they?"
Again Cas seemed to be listening. "No," he finally answered. "Their eyes are the same as mine."
Dean sighed. "Okay then. Hope Bobby's ready for an angel cavity search."
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Through sheer force of will and a complete disregard for driving laws, the group managed to reach Bobby's in just over a day. They found the surly man in one of the many rows of half-salvaged cars, his legs protruding from under the rusted Toyota. The sound of a wrench came reached them, clanking methodically.
"Hey, Bobby!" Dean shouted, slapping the hood harshly. "We need a favor."
"You idjits always need a damned favor." Bobby didn't pause in his work. "Answer the phones, look up what this thing is and how to kill it, find the blood of a nephilim or the horn of a rhino. Like I can just run down to Walmart—"
"And we really appreciate that, Bobby," Sam was quick to interject. "But this a little more personal."
There was a pause and then Bobby slid out from under the car, scrutinizing the two hunters carefully. "What trouble you two in now? Father another monster?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "As if we'd be that stupid." At Bobby's pointed stare he shifted uncomfortably. "Again," he added.
Bobby stood slowly and stretched his back. "Alright, then. What is it? The damned world ending again?"
"Yes." Cas was the one who answered this time. "And I need to reach inside of you."
"Well." Bobby's voice was gruffer than normal as he turned to head for the house. "You'd think you'd at least buy me a drink first."
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A half hour and much protest—during which Bobby continued shifting around the room to stay as far away from "those creepy little kids" as possible—later, the old man was gritting his teeth against the pain, a low groan issuing from his throat. Cas was elbow-deep in his torso, his hand closed around Bobby's soul.
The angel's expression went from one of concentration to alarm, and he quickly withdrew. Bobby sank into the couch, his muscles relaxing, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Balls," he groaned. "I've been shot, been stabbed, been thrown across rooms…but that sucked."
"Well?" Dean prompted Cas, hoping that Bobby's pain wasn't pointless.
The angel still looked troubled. "His soul is of no use to us."
"What? So you're telling me that Bobby, of all people, doesn't have a righteous soul?" Sam's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"It may have been. It is too damaged to say for sure." Cas was rolling the sleeves of his shirt and trenchcoat back down, his eyes still focused on the old hunter.
"What do you mean, damaged?" Dean didn't understand how a soul could become damaged. Yeah, it had happened to Sam, but then Bobby hadn't gone ten rounds in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. "Can't you fix it? You fixed Sam."
"This is not the kind of thing that I can fix, or take on myself." Cas looked at Dean regretfully. "And before you ask, I cannot tell you the source of the damage. I do not believe Bobby would appreciate it if I did."
It had surprised the angel. He never would have guessed that the gruff old man had committed patricide.
If this was the sort of secret that many humans harbored deep within them, then his father had been right in his claim that it would be nearly impossible for them to complete this task.
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AN: Bobby's alive because I still haven't quite come to grips with any other reality yet.
I have a Twitter, and if you like this story you should follow me there as I struggle with it and my sanity. The two are undoubtedly related. My username is AnnaNocturnal.
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See you next chapter. :)