Blue Moon Demon
By: Coffeemaniac
This story is an adventure that spans from pre-series and into Season 7. It's liberally dosed with Bobby Singer, and includes appearances by John Winchester, Crowley and Gabriel (aka the Trickster, aka the Archangel)
Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
PART 3
***Set between Abandon All Hope and Sam, Interrupted.***
December 27, 2009
Sam rolled over wondering what the world be like if he didn't have the floor in Bobby's foyer to sleep on. With the Apocalypse looming and both he and Dean on the block for being angel costumes, he might lose that tiny bit of comfort. He rubbed his eyes wishing doomsday didn't follow his every thought.
Sitting up he glanced towards the couch and found Dean's crumpled blanket but no brother in sight. He pulled himself up, stretched, yawned and padded towards the bathroom. The silent house suggested Dean had gone out. Sam guessed Bobby still slept.
The South Dakota winter hung brutally around them outside. When Sam went to bed the little temperature gauge sitting outside the front door read minus 6 degrees. The weather prediction called for a high of 12 with no snow expected, just cold and wind, and that made him wonder why Dean needed to venture someplace.
When he came out of the bathroom he heard the squeak of Bobby's wheelchair so he headed for the kitchen. Bobby struggled with mornings since he lost the use of his legs but he made it clear he didn't want any help. Sam figured the best thing was to give him privacy and stay out of the way.
Sam stopped in the doorway when he saw Dean sitting at the kitchen table with both of his hands wrapped around a coffee mug.
Dean may have begun to forgive, or maybe just accept, that Sam ingested demon blood and released Lucifer from Hell. But, with the added horror that the two of them were chosen vessels for Lucifer and Michael, he barely managed civility.
Sam wrestled with fear too but Dean exhibited all the signs of depression. The bleakness of their situation had spiraled him into a black hole leaving nothing but negativity and a surly disposition.
Sam wished he'd headed for the cellar or the front porch rather than the kitchen.
Two days earlier, the three of them had spent a sullen Christmas searching for ways to stop the Apocalypse. The only nod made to the holiday was a ham that Bobby baked with some glaze he prepared from scratch and two bottles of aged Scotch that Dean had stashed in the panic room at some point.
They had toasted Ellen and Jo which only served to depress the three of them so they ended Christmas drunk, and hiding from each other in separate corners of the house.
As Sam passed his brother on the way to the coffee maker, he wished Dean a good morning. He grabbed a blue mug and filled it up before sitting down across from his brother. Dean hadn't spoken yet so Sam decided to let him have his thoughts. After a few minutes of silence, Sam got up, warmed both of their cups then rummaged through the refrigerator pulling out the ham leftovers, a chunk of cheddar cheese and a container of eggs.
He couldn't make Dean happier, he couldn't give Bobby back his legs, but he could scramble eggs with fried ham and cheese.
While he stirred the chopped ham with a wooden spoon, Castiel popped into the kitchen. Sam didn't jump. He wondered if he was beyond being surprised anymore. Dean looked at the angel.
"Cas," Dean said sounding almost life-like for the first time since they finished the bottle of Scotch on Christmas night.
"Dean, I bring news," Cas said.
"Want some eggs?" Sam offered, knowing the angel didn't eat.
"No. Thank you."
"What's the word then?" Dean asked.
Cas looked at Dean like a puppy wondering why its ball has been tossed across the room. Sam smiled.
"He means, what news are you bringing?"
"Oh, well, it's nothing good."
"Shocker," Dean said.
"After the decimation of Carthage, the angels are talking about a significant increase in demon activity. It is believed that other cities like the one in Missouri are in similar danger."
"They killed everyone," Sam said softly, feeling grief stab through him as Ellen and Jo flashed in his mind.
The sound of Bobby's wheelchair broke into Sam's grim memory. He turned from the stove to greet him when the air, howling and spinning like a wind tunnel, suddenly overtook Bobby's kitchen. The impossibility slammed into Sam almost as strong as the gust that lifted him off his feet. Twisting inside a great tornado vapor, limbs flailing, Sam screamed in panic. He might have called for Dean or maybe it was mindless noise but a moment later he rolled across a rocky floor scraping legs and arms and torso until he landed in a battered heap against a stone wall.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean heard the wind pick up. He looked towards the kitchen door thinking it must have blown open even as he thought the air wasn't cold enough to be coming from outside. Like background noise he could hear voices but nothing made sense because the door sat securely latched into place like the kitchen window above the sink. And the air wasn't cold enough. And there was a weird pressure through his chest as he spun towards Sam.
The empty space at the stove gave way to all the noise, the clattering as chairs fell over, the shaking of the glass inside the window panes and the cursing from Bobby whose wheelchair was slowly spinning as it ignored physics while it creaked along on one wheel. Another instant found Castiel stopping Bobby from tipping over and setting the chair back on the floor.
Dean took another turn around the kitchen searching for Sam who wasn't there anymore. But there was no hole in the walls or ceiling, no broken glass or open door. He just wasn't there.
"Cas?" Dean said, feeling fear snake from his belly to his legs.
"I don't know," the angel said as he took a turn searching the room with his eyes.
"Where's Sam?" Bobby said.
"He's no longer near," Castiel answered. "I cannot sense his presence."
"In the house," Dean tried to specify.
"Anywhere."
"What?" Dean demanded.
"It makes sense, Dean. He's not here and he is warded from my sight by the sigils. I can't find him because he is protected from the angels.
"But, what does that mean? I mean, we have to be able to find him." Dean stopped. He focused his panic. "Okay, what just happened? Someone, someone took him, right? Someone came in here and took him."
Castiel moved through the kitchen towards the stove. He moved the pan that Sam had been using to cook eggs and put it in the sink.
"Cas," Bobby's voice was tight and angry. "Who took Sam?"
"One moment. Please."
Castiel knelt in front of the stove, placing his hands on the front of the oven then moving up slowly. When he stopped he turned around.
"This is bad," he said.
"What's bad?" Dean asked, as fear sent a cold sweat across his body.
"Angels. There were angels here. They took him."
Dean shook his head, rejecting the words. "No. We're protected. You marked our ribs so this wouldn't happen."
"I know," Castiel said. "I do not believe they defeated the sigils."
"Then how?"
The angel hung his head for a moment. When he looked up his eyes were narrowed. "I believe they followed me."
"Followed you? How could you let that happen?"
"I wanted to tell you about Crowley. I was…careless."
Dean stomped over, rage overwhelming common sense. He grabbed the lapels of Castiel's coat and yanked him forward. "How could you…"
"Dean. Dean!" Bobby's voice barely registered. But, when the older man rammed his wheelchair into Dean's leg the pain broke through.
"Ow, damn it, Bobby."
"Get off him."
Dean let go of Castiel and paced away from him.
"Where's Sam?" Dean yelled.
"I don't know," Castiel answered angrily. "The angels will have him well hidden."
"Why would the angels want Sam?" Bobby said. "It's Lucifer who wants him for a ride."
Castiel shook his head. "I don't know…unless…"
"Unless they want him to say yes to Lucifer," Dean said.
"Why would…what would that accomplish?" Bobby asked.
"Most angels believe the Apocalypse is the will of God. Sam must say yes to Lucifer just as much as Dean must say yes to Michael. Zachariah has, so far, failed to convince Dean of his destiny so…"
"They're trying to jump start the other team," Bobby finished.
"Sam won't say 'yes'," Dean said.
Dean knew Sam was committed to preventing the Apocalypse. Since killing Lilith and putting the whole thing in motion, Sam's guilt alone would stop him. Dean might have pangs of doubt. He might wonder if the whole thing really was fated and there was no way to derail it but Sam remained confident. Sam fully believed that as long as both of them refused to say "yes" then they could end the battle before it started.
"He won't say yes," Dean repeated.
"Whoever has him will likely apply pressure to secure his agreement. It is imperative that we find him as quickly as possible."
Dean filled his lungs to fight off the surge of fear that Castiel's words brought. If he stopped to think too much about Sam being hurt then he wouldn't be able to function.
"Okay. How?" Dean asked.
"First, we must determine which angel. I will attempt to ascertain that information. I suggest that you check the warding on the house."
"Start with Zachariah."
"I agree that he is a likely candidate. However, to my knowledge he remains assigned to you and Michael. Also, I'm bothered by the fact that I did not sense the attack prior to its occurrence. That sort of deception usually requires the power of an archangel."
"Michael?"
"Perhaps."
"Could it be Lucifer himself?" Bobby said.
Castiel didn't respond but Dean saw the worry in his face as he disappeared from the room.
Dean looked at Bobby who huffed before turning his wheelchair and rolling into the study. While Bobby started the research, Dean set his attention on the sigils and symbols set up around the house. He searched the kitchen first then worked his way around through the rest of the rooms. He took his time to do it right. They couldn't risk another breach. He forced himself to concentrate on the task knowing that worrying about where Sam was, or what was happening to him, wouldn't find him any faster.
When he finished the upstairs, Dean joined Bobby in the study where the older man had a large, dusty tome opened on the desk.
"What are you looking for?" Dean asked as he sat in the chair across from him.
"Trying to match up the grab with a similar M.O. We've seen enough angels lately that we know how they appear and disappear. We've heard the flap of wings. The tornado that swept up Sam wasn't like anything we've seen from them before."
"Find anything?"
"Sorry, no. Not yet. Just getting started though."
"What can I do?"
"Grab that book there. The blue one underneath that one that feels like flesh. And start reading."
"I think I should be out there looking. Shaking the bushes."
"And talk to who exactly? Demons and vampires and the rest of the monster band ain't going to know nothing about the business of angels."
"I could pray to Michael."
"Yeah and if he's the one who took Sam, then what? You going to say "yes"?"
"No, of course not, I just…"
"Listen, son, you're scared. So am I. But, we have to be smart."
"What if it's not the angels? Maybe this Crowley character got the jump on us."
"A crossroads demon getting around salt, devil's traps, holy water and everything else? Not likely. No, I think we should trust Cas on this and start with the angels."
Dean rubbed his face then picked up the blue book that Bobby had directed him to. It didn't feel right not to be outside searching through every bush, tree, warehouse and tenement. Doing research worked great when they were preparing for a case, but they had been slammed into the middle of one. Looking through books felt like "way too little, way too late."
"I can't do this," he said after a few minutes. He put the book on top of the stack. "You keep looking. I'm going out."
"Where to?" Bobby sounded frustrated.
"We know angels. I'll drive a couple of towns over and pray. Maybe I can get Anna to answer. If she won't, maybe Gabriel will."
"The Trickster."
"The archangel. He may not like that Sam and I are fighting the Apocalypse, but he's not completely hostile towards us either."
"He wants you and Sam to be party favors, son. He's not on your side. Hell, he might be behind this."
Dean felt a surge of anger as he thrust himself on to his feet. "You know what? I don't care. If he's behind it, or Anna, and Zachariah, or some piss-ant second rate cherub then maybe they'll take me to Sam. Right now, that's all I care about."
"All right, all right. I hear you. Go. Do what you have to do. But, do me a favor. Try not to be stupid about it."
Dean nodded, feeling a little embarrassed about losing his temper with Bobby. He grabbed his sweatshirt and jacket off the back of the kitchen chair, and headed out to brave the freezing winter.