Ruffling Some Feathers
"You do realize, of course, that she's going to betray us?" Castiel asked matter-of-factly as Dean, Sam and Crowley walked next to him into the Bunker's main room.
Crowley was examining a list of ingredients for the spell that Rowena had written for them and checking off some objects with a pen. He raised his eyebrows without looking back at Castiel.
"Naturally, Castiel. I am absolutely certain that that b...", he paused, crinkling up the corner of his mouth and raising one eyebrow before continuing. "...witch is looking for the first opportunity to screw us all over and toss us into the deepest pit of Hell. I'm not that dense, you know." He checked off a final item and handed the list to Sam, pressing it into his chest.
"Off you go, Moose. You have some shopping to do." Sam sighed heavily and nodded at Dean before turning towards the railed concrete stairwell leading down into the Bunker's supply rooms.
Rowena had been sent back to Hell as soon as the contract that Crowley had prepared had been signed, without the requisite kiss, much to everyone's relief.
Castiel's brow was furrowed as he studied Crowley. Crowley exhaled and put his hands in his pockets, an exasperated and slightly impatient look on his face.
"Yes, Castiel? Something on your mind?"
Castiel walked forward. "I don't understand. If you know she's our enemy, then why promise her anything at all? A Dukedom in Hell, for example?"
Crowley smiled. "Choir-boy, we both know what we're doing. Tit-for-tat. She coughs up a spell, I cough up a Dukedom. Now, the real thing puzzling you is this; what are we both really after?" Castiel frowned. "No worries, Castiel," Crowley continued, moving to the table and sitting down in the head chair, swivelling it to the side and propping both of his feet up on the table. "Fool me once, as they say. She won't be getting the better of me this time."
"Us," Dean interjected. Crowley looked up at him and cocked his head. Dean stared back.
"You say something, Squirrel?"
"Us, Crowley," Dean answered, "because, like it or not, we're all shoved into the same life-boat here. So, yeah, while you've got on an eye out on protecting your own ass – no big surprise there- some of us have to worry about the rest of the picture."
"Your point being?", Crowley asked, steepling his fingers and frowning, looking puzzled.
"It means, Crowley, that don't you go thinking for a second that I haven't forgotten what you pulled back there in Mississippi. And if you think you're going to just skate out scot-free and leave us hanging, you've got another thing coming pal."
Crowley smiled and sighed. "'Scot-Free', I like that, Squirrel. You're cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Ok, fine, warning heeded. Is there anything else?"
Dean moved closer to the chair and leaned in. "Yeah, actually, there is. That also means that if there's something you ain't telling us, you better share with the rest of the class. And I do mean right now."
"Or you'll what?", Crowley asked, his face questioning, with a hint of amusement.
Castiel stepped forward, clear warning in his posture. "I really don't think you want to try that, Crowley."
Crowley looked up at Castiel, his smile fading. He swung his feet down and placed his palms on the table, standing up. "It's going to be like that, then, is it?" He raised his head to the both of them.
"If it has to be," Castiel answered simply, stepping closer. "Partner or not, we will not be manipulated by you...um...again", he added after considering for a second.
Crowley gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Fine. What's the question, then?"
"What's Rowena up to?", Dean asked.
Crowley shrugged. "How should I know that?"
"Crowley..." Castiel growled.
""What?", Crowley shot back, exasperated. "Look, fellas, seriously, all I know is what you know. She gave up far too easily in there. That means she's got something brewing. What, exactly, I haven't a clue, honestly. But I'll be keeping out a keen watch for it." He met their eyes expectantly. "That's it. I swear," he added, his arms in surrender, palms up.
Dean considered him, arms crossed. "Yeah, that's worth squat..." he finally answered pacing away. He turned back, face scrunched up in anger. "You know? Why should I trust a single word you say, Crowley?", he added, pointing his finger at him and striding angrily forward. "Give me one good damned reason! Because I can't think of a single frikin' thing keeping me from sending your ass back to that 'Big-Board' there in your office and as far the hell away from us as possible. Cause frankly, the further away we are, the less chance of collateral damage."
Crowley frowned. "Now Squirrel, that hurt...", he mock pouted.
Dean huffed. "I'm outta here," he said, looking at Castiel and ignoring Crowley. "Let me know when Sammy gets back, Cas. I'm going to go find a beer. Or four."
Crowley watched Castiel. "You want I should go as well?"
Castiel walked towards him, staring straight at him and not blinking. "Is he right?"
"Not trusting me? Of course he's right in that. A sign of remarkably good instinct. Not a trait I normally associate with either of those two. But sending me away? Wouldn't recommend it."
Castiel squinted. "Why not?"
Crowley met his gaze steadily. "It's simple; I work with you, I get my throne back. Something that I've had a precarious grip on, unfortunately, since Moose there gave me that blood infusion. Now, I have to make moral decisions whenever I do something," he spat out the word like it was poisonous to him. "Although, let's make one thing perfectly clear here; I can still rationalize just about any action, and if that means stomaching you three whilst regaining my kingdom, than so be it."
"So...we should keep you here just because you can tolerate us just enough to get something that you want?", Castiel asked shaking his head. "That's it?"
Crowley shrugged, "I can be a simple creature sometimes," he answered.
"Sorry, Crowley, but that's not nearly enough...the second you can gain something without having to rely on us, you'll feed us to the wolves again."
"You didn't let me finish," Crowley broke in. "My reasons for wanting to stay here are clear. The reason you should want me to stay is this; you can't trust me? Fine. Let me give you some free insight then. Never turn your back on someone you don't trust when you can keep them in the same room with you. Both eyes on them. You never know when you'll see something important."
The angel half nodded, considering what Crowley told him. He paused, turned, and began to walk away, turning halfway around and looking back over his shoulder after a few paces. "All right then, Crowley. You stay. For now. But remember this," he added slowly, his eyes meeting Crowley's. "We'll be 'keeping a keen watch" out also. And the minute that I think you're putting us in danger to save your own hide, you'll have to answer to me."
Crowley watched Castiel leave the room and sat back down in the chair. He traced his finger on the table. "Wouldn't have expected anything else," he mumbled to himself before leaning back and looking at the ceiling, hand clasped behind his head. "Anything else at all."
An hour later Sam was back in the main room with an armload of jars, bowls, books and quills. He piled them all on the table and called Dean and Castiel back in.
They assembled the spell components and Sam looked questioningly at Crowley, who nodded and shrugged.
"It's all there," he answered the unspoken question. "This should take you straight to Gabriel, wherever he may be."
" 'You', as in, you're not coming with us?," Sam asked.
"Oh, no," Crowley answered, hand raised. "Me and Archangels do not traditionally get along swimmingly. Besides, this spell has an emergency cord built into it. You need someone here to anchor it."
"Emergency cord?", Dean asked, brow furrowing.
Crowley nodded. "The way this spell Rowena made for us works is this; instead of attempting to summon Gabriel through his Sigil, which probably no longer exists, this spell will seek out his unique Angelic frequency, which cannot be changed. Now, that frequency is no good for summoning, but it's fine for locating, much like finding a radio signal. This will send you three to it's strongest point, which, theoretically, is where Gabriel is manifested. Now, in case our dear Gabriel is someplace...inhospitable...or is less than happy to see you three after so much time apart, you will have a small golden thread tied to each of your fingers. Pull it, and it sets off a signal here, at which point, I call you back."
"So...you're going to be air-rescue?", Dean mumbled, not expecting an answer. "That's just great."
"Just try to remember," Crowley responded, looking pointedly at Castiel. "I gain nothing by having you three die just now. So relax."
Castiel nodded to Dean and Dean shrugged. "Let's roll."
Sam, Dean and Castiel grasped the edges of a golden bowl filled with scraps of paper inscribed with angelic script. Crowley poured a thick, golden honey-like liquid over it and chanted a few words. The scraps began to glow and send out a white, cloud-like smoke. Dean and Sam grimaced in pain as the smoke began to curl around their bodies, as a high-pitched whine began to fill their ears. Castiel nodded to himself. The sound of Angelic frequency.
"Hang-on!", he shouted at Sam and Dean as the whining got louder and louder. Sam and Dean's eardrums strained in protest, the pain increasing. They squeezed their eyes shut as the volume increased, the smoke too thick to see through anyway.
There was a lurch and a feeling of pulling, and suddenly the whining was gone. Sam and Dean fell to the ground, grasping their ears, from which a small stream of blood flowed. Their teeth were gritted in pain. Castiel stood and scanned the room. They were in a small entranceway covered in drapes of some type. Castiel frowned, walking towards them and, at the same time, placed a healing hand on Sam and Dean's heads. They gasped in relief and groaned, standing up, and glancing down at their fingers. There was a small golden thread tied on the index fingers of each of their right hands.
Castiel held one of the drapes between two of his fingers and frowned. "It's...soft...like..."
"Velvet, " Dean finished, looking around, confused. "We're in a halls covered in red velvet."
"Do you guys hear that?", Sam asked, moving towards one of the walls.
"Yeah...it sounds like..." Dean replied, moving over towards him.
"Music?", Castiel asked.
Dean nodded, frowning. "Sort of...it's Def Leppard."
Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light
Television lover, baby, go all night
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah
They moved the velvet curtain aside and walked slowly into a darkened room filled with disco balls and strobe lights. It was filled with tables, chairs and at least fifty patrons, their wallets out, paying for drinks and private dances. There was a large stage with poles in the center of it, and three half-naked girls were twirling up and around them, dancing to the music.
Dean nodded appreciatively as he scanned the room. Castiel looked around, his mouth half-open. Dean saw him and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Dean, I don't think we're in the right place..." Castiel began. "I believe Rowena tricked us."
Dean shook his head, smiling, placing a hand on Castiel's' shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially.
"No, Cas, believe me, we're in the right place. Gabriel's here all right."
Pour some sugar on me
Ooh in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Ooh I can't get enough
I'm hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet, yeah
They scanned the room and moved over to the bar. A female bartender in pig-tails and an extremely tight tank-top came over to them. The words "Sugar-Daddies" was written on her shirt in grafitti-style lettering.
"What can I getcha fellas?", she asked, wiping the bar with a cloth.
"Three whiskeys," Dean replied quickly, slapping a twenty down on the counter. "And, maybe a word with 'Sugar-Daddy'. He around?", he asked, looking up at her.
She frowned. "You guys cops?"
Dean and Sam automatically reached into their jackets and pulled out their FBI badges.
"Not exactly", Dean answered, eyes twinkling. "Don't worry, he's not in trouble or anything. Just want to chat."
"You FBI too?", the bartender asked, looking up at Castiel.
"No, I'm an Angel of the Lord," Castiel replied simply. The bartender took a step back, squinting. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Uh, what he meant to say was...", Dean began, smiling. There was a loud screeching noise as the music came to a sudden halt. Dean and Sam both frowned and turned around.
The entire room was frozen in place. A girl was suspended in mid-air in the midst of a leap, another arced around a pole with a seductive smile on her face. Castiel bristled and looked around.
"Gabriel...?", he called out hesitantly.
They turned towards the sound of a glass being placed back on a table in front of a booth covered in shadows in the corner of the room.
"Castiel," came a voice from the booth. "And Sam and Dean as well. Well...isn't this...special?"
A figure stood up from the table and moved into the room, his face resolving. Sam and Dean took a step back when they saw Gabriel. He looked thin, haggard, his face a myriad of lines and creases.
"Your alive," Castiel stated. "And Suriel told us that you..."
"That I stole the Register of Heaven," Gabriel finished, still walking slowly forward. " Which leads me to my next question; how in the hell did you find me?"
"Don't worry about that," Sam answered. "There are more important things going on. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
Gabriel regarded him cooly. "Yes, I believe that I do."
Sam swallowed hard. "Is it...is it you?", he finally asked.
Gabriel squinted at him. "And what if I was? What exactly were you going to do about that?"
Castiel stepped forward. "Then we'd have to stop you."
Gabriel gave him a weak half-smile. "Really Castiel? You gonna beat up your big brother?" He turned his steely blue eyes on Castiel and frowned. "You're different. What did you do?"
Castiel straightened up. His Angel blade slid from the sleeve of his trenchcoat as he kept moving forward. "Father did this."
Gabriel's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Father? You can't mean...seriously? Father father?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed as he regarded Gabriel. "You...you didn't know?"
"That you're practically an Archangel now, if I'm reading that power right? No, Cas, I really didn't."
Castiel relaxed and his shoulders slumped. He put his blade away and shook his head looking at the floor. "It isn't you."
Gabriel nodded slowly. "It isn't me. But it looks like someone went to a lot of trouble making you think that it was."
"But you did steal the Register..."
"Of course I stole the Register!", Gabriel shouted, slamming a fist on one of the tables. "It was the only way to be sure that I couldn't be found! Which, by the way, brings me back to my original question mi amigos, how did you find me exactly?"
"Spell," Dean answered quickly, stepping forward. "Look, Gabe, I'm so glad it isn't you that we're hunting, believe me when I tell you that. But, is there anything you can tell us about who we are looking for? Because, you seem to know something about it."
Gabriel sighed and nodded. "Mi casa, su casa, " he answered glibly, a hint of his old humor shining in his eyes. "Sit down fellas. Have a drink. We have a lot to talk about."