Hello all!
Oh my goodness! Thank you all for your reviews and alerts! You all know how to make a girl feel special. :)
Sorry this took so long. Sometimes I get an idea for a previous chapter while writing the next so working on them in batches. I also had chapter 4 mostly written before I posted chapter 1, so that's why 1-3 came out so speedy. Wanted you all to have a good chunk sink your teeth into!
A note: There's a bit in here about the song Blinded by the Light. If you're unfamiliar with the song (and it's two versions) and curious, you can find out what Dean's talking about pretty easily at the song's wiki page, or by actually listening to the music. (I won't outright ask you to do that because it's like 7 minutes long, but if you haven't heard it, you're missing out!)
But enough about that, on with the show!
Sam regards the Dean-shaped pile of blankets on the bed with unease. He isn't sure if the man is asleep, but at least he's horizontal.
They'd had a long, disturbing conversation when they'd gotten back to the motel, but now he finally understands what's been going on with Dean for the last week. Well, that isn't true. Neither of them really understands what is going on with the elder Winchester, but at least Dean isn't trying to hide it anymore.
Sam sits by his phone and distractedly surfs a few sites on dreams and visions while waiting for Bobby to work his magic. The card table he's sitting at is the only piece of furniture in the sparse room besides a couple of folding chairs and the two lumpy queen sized beds. An out-dated television set flickers in the corner on mute, its light melding with the glow of his laptop in the dark of the room. It's only a little after noon now, but Sam had insisted on turning off the lights after he'd had to practically wrestle his stubborn brother into the bed.
From what he's gathered, Dean's dreams are different from the visions he'd had before they'd ganked ol' Yellow Eyes. Sam's visions had always played out like a movie; he'd watch disembodiedly as his "siblings" wreaked havoc. Dean has been watching through someone else's eyes, feeling someone else's pain, like he's plugging in to their head.
The question is, whose?
"Any leads yet, Sammy?" The flutter of wings and the smell of chocolate herald Gabriel's arrival. Out of the corner of his eye Sam notices Dean go unnaturally still on the bed. Damn, so definitely not sleeping then.
Bringing his full attention back to the angel, he watches in mild annoyance as the guy settles in Dean's abandoned chair and puts his sneakered feet up on the table.
Sam sighs, briefly debating how much he should share with the former trickster. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighs again. The guy had died to help them so trust isn't really an issue here, no matter how big of a jerk he is.
"Well, they fished a body out of a lake this morning. Coroner says she died approximately two days ago. Kathrine Beckett-"
"Flew the coop five days ago," Gabriel says with a small, troubled frown. "She wasn't a VIP vessel, but it's still bad news." He nibbles thoughtfully at a candy bar that has literally appeared from thin air, putting his other hand under his chin. "...First virgins... then this chick disappears, but her body turns up..." His voice is soft and contemplative, most likely thinking out loud.
"Hmm..." He scratches his chin.
"How do you know they were all virgins, anyway?" Sam has been wondering about that for a while now.
Gabriel grins. "We have a list," he says matter-o-factly. "You know, like Santa: naughty or nice."
"That's...creepy." Sam is almost sorry he asked.
"But useful." The angel's grin turns into a leer and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"Right. So." Sam desperately doesn't want to know any details, so he steers the conversation back to its original topic. "This is the first lead the cops have had on the case. Whatever happened to her turned her insides into charcoal. Her eyes and tongue were cooked." Sam fills the angel in on the details and shows him the copy of the file he'd talked the coroner into making for them.
Gabriel lets out a low whistle.
"That's a helluva way to go."
Sam glances nervously at the occupied bed. "There's something else. Dean's been-"
"Seeing dead people. Well, dying people anyway." Dean sighs, sitting up. "Sam, if we're gonna tell him about me going all Haley Joel, then I may as well do it." He watches as Dean scrubs a hand over his face and tiredly looks up. "Thanks for friggin' abandoning us out there by the way." His hand flexes into a fist, but he doesn't move to get off the bed.
"Too much riding around will make you flabby, you'll thank me later," Gabriel ribs, taking a big, hypocritical bite of chocolate. Dean's eyes narrow and his jaw clenches menacingly. Sam is worried that his brother may actually throw a punch. Again.
But then something changes.
An unidentifiable emotion ripples across Dean's features and he suddenly looks away, the anger on his face collapsing into a blank expression. When he starts speaking again his voice sounds brittle, like it's forced and close to breaking.
"I've been having weird dreams for the last week."
"Sounds like a personal problem."
"Well, I sure as hell wish it was." Dean glares. "But apparently it's your problem." He pauses, eyes narrowing. "It- you're not fucking with my head, are you? Because I swear-" he starts, anger boiling to the surface once more.
"Hold your horses, Grumpy. What're you yammering on about? I haven't been screwing with you..." The angel trails off, looking thoughtful for a moment. "...Yeah, no. Not me." And it kind of worries Sam that the guy had to think about it.
"Well, someone's been messing around in there. Like I said, weird dreams. Dying chicks. I recognize most of the women in that file." He slouches forward, closing his eyes and completely missing the look of surprise Sam sees flash across Gabriel's face.
"Bobby's looking into it," Sam says, watching Gabriel for clues. The angel is looking very intensely at Dean. It's reminiscent of the borderline creepy way that Castiel used to stare at his brother. "...But if you have any ideas, we'd, you know, love to hear them."
Gabriel is quiet for a moment, it's kind of unnerving. He stares hard at Dean for a second longer, a mysterious emotion giving his eyes an eerie glint.
"It could be related to your little romp with Count Dickula," he speculates, raising an eyebrow in an oh-yes-I-know-all-about-that face. Sam feels his chest tighten, he still feels guilty about that.
"Don't even start, Sam." Sam's head whips over to find his brother glaring at him knowingly. He shrugs as Gabriel continues.
"But somehow I doubt His Royal Hellness would be working with bloodsuckers." He pauses, examining his fingernails like they're just talking causally about the weather. "...Could be a connection to the other vessels. Since you're the big kahuna's meat suit, I mean. Though I've never heard of that happening before."
"It happened to me and the other kids Azazel 'roided up," Sam points out.
"Angels and demons, kiddo. Apples and rotten oranges. You all also shared a direct link: Azazel's blood. Vessels aren't all blood related. Granted, bloodlines are important, very much so. That's why you had to drink all that demon blood and Adam just had to bend over. But it's more than that, it also has to do with a person's soul."
Oh god, Adam.
Poor Adam, sitting down in the cage all alone with those two.
You can't help him. This time the voice is Adam's own, ringing with the ancient power of the archangel that rode him into the cage. Sam discreetly grips his hand under the table and squeezes the anchoring scar. ...And he swears he sees Gabriel's eyes flicker to the table, swears the angel's lips purse together in... what? Displeasure? ...Worry?... But when he blinks, it's gone. And before Sam can dwell on whether or not he's imagined it, his brother speaks.
"Souls?" Dean asks, face scrunching up in arrant confusion. Sam can see passed the feigned ignorance though, can tell he's trying not to think too hard about their half-brother's fate. It's an unspoken burden that weighs on both of their hearts, especially Dean's. He knows Dean still feels responsible for Michael taking Adam. And even though Sam knows it wasn't exactly Sophie's Choice, Dean was still forced to pick which brother Death saved from the cage. Which is so damn unfair.
Sam is secretly surprised Dean doesn't drink more.
"Yeah, anyone in a bloodline can be a vessel for a little while, depending on how strong the blood is of course. But to be a good vessel, a true vessel, the soul has to be..." Gabriel pauses looking thoughtful and scratches the back of his neck. "How to put it... on the right wavelength, I guess would be the best way I can describe it." He sighs at their twin expressions of blank confusion. "Yeah, sorry. Monkey math? Kinda lacking in the lingo for celestial physics."
"Demon possession is simple in comparison. Demons were once humans, right? So it's like the human body is already hardwired for them. But angels, we're completely different. For one thing, there's the size issue. Demons are human soul sized, easy to fit into a meat suit. Angels are skyscraper sized masses of celestial intent, squeezing that into a person, not gonna lie, it's a little tricky." Sam grimaces at the memories this is pulling out of the fuzzy edges of his mind. Jimmy hadn't been wrong in his comet analogy, it's- unpleasant really is an gross understatement. Having Meg in there with him had been unpleasant. Having Lucifer in there, that had been excruciating.
"The blood gives the body the physical strength to harbor an angel and the soul gives it supernatural resilience and power. A body is born attuned to its soul. A vessel that's jiving with a bright soul holds up against an angel's mojo way better."
"So... brighter souls make better vessels?" Sam slowly tries to piece together the information.
"Yeah..." Gabriel bobbles his head back and forth in thought. "We're much less... restricted." The angel is clearly having to search for words that they'll understand, and Sam appreciates the effort. It doesn't quiet make sense, but he thinks he gets the gist of it.
Dean gives him a look that says I'm glad you understand this shit, because I sure has hell don't. "So, what? My soul is extra shiny?" Dean asks sarcastically.
"Well, can't see it through your bone-bag, but I got glimpses when Gigantor and I were playing Groundhog day." When I killed you all those times. Sam sees in his sheepish grin. He's still a little pissed off about that, but he doesn't do more than subtly clench his teeth.
"Blinded by the Light comes to mind," Gabriel suggests.
"And that would make you the douche," Dean say dryly.
Gabriel arches an eyebrow. "The calliope could always crash on you, you know. That's one I haven't tried yet." The former trickster's face twists into a smirk that makes Sam wonder if that's really supposed to be just a joke.
"Right, Springsteen version it is," Dean concedes, looking uncomfortable with the idea.
"But Sam here must be pretty dazzling himself, considering he got Lucifer to do the flaming hoop trick and he was one of Michael's bench warmers," the angel states, gesturing toward Sam.
"What?" the brothers demand in unison. Sam feels kind of like the world just tipped over.
Dean throws his hands up in a halting motion. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the information train up, School House Rock. Explain."
"You're saying I'm a vessel for Michael?" Sam asks incredulously. Gabriel rolls his eyes skyward and sighs, finally seeming to hit the limits of his patience.
"Don't you two chuckle heads ever listen? Lesser vessels are first come first serve for the little guys, but the big boys? We can only use certain ones, certain blood. We're just special like that. Don't ask me why, dear old Dad just made it that way. You Winchesters are Michael's bloodline," he states with exasperation.
"When the hell did you say any- any of that?" Dean objects. Gabriel just stares at him like he's trying not to turn him into bug and squash him. Which might actually be what's going on, Sam realizes.
"Then why did Lucifer call me his 'true vessel', if I was one of Michael's spares?" Sam draws the attention off his brother with the question. He really does want an answer though. This doesn't make any damn sense.
"Lucy's vessel line got smote to Hell, literally, when he was cast out of Heaven. That Nick guy was one of the last, watered-down leftovers. Think of it as a little extra 'screw you' present from big bro. He figured that since Lucy hated humans so much, he didn't deserve to walk among them anymore. There's a strict dress code you see: no meat suit, no getting into Club Earth. So he had to go find himself a back door into the party. Hence the demonic Ovaltine. Lucifer ordered ol' Yellow Eyes to go find him a strong Michael vessel and infect it. You see, corrupting a vessel with demon blood, Lucifer's "children's" blood, gave him a way in and what better revenge than stealing one of Michael's best toys? Mikey's bloodline had been lost though, as you know, so the best Azazel could do was search for powerful young couples that reeked of divine mojo, potential archangel vessel bloodlines. That Jake kid was one of Raphael's vessels, and Andy and his brother were both mine. Sam, of course, was one of Michael's."
The idea isn't as hard to swallow as it probably should be after the way everyone's been spewing the destiny spiel at him. Maybe Sam is just in shock. It makes sense, he supposes, considering he's also one of John Winchester's sons. He'd wondered about it before, honestly. Why Adam could be Michael's vessel, but he, Sam, wasn't apparently an option. The implications of this information are hard to comprehend though. Why is Gabriel even telling them all of this?
"About what I said back in that warehouse..." the angel says quietly, as if he's been reading Sam's mind. Maybe he has, who knows? "Sam, you should know...The Fight was supposed to be a sure thing and Lucifer chose you long before you were even born. But he chose you, not destiny. I kinda fibbed there."
"Now there's a shocker," Dean scoffs. Gabriel's eye twitches, but he ignores the interruption.
"Demons have been trying to manipulate you since you were six months old. Through it all, you've fought the good fight. Sure, you had a snag or two on the way, a lying demon bitch here, a little blood addition there. But in the end, you and your peach of a brother-" He pauses, giving Dean a writhing look. "-proved all those demons and angels wrong. You beat the Devil at his own game, kiddo. That was all you." And that isn't really an answer, or even an apology, or whatever the hell it's supposed to be, but it's probably all he's going to get.
So then destiny hadn't apparently chosen him to be the vessel of the Devil, Lucifer himself had. Out of spite, no less. Strangely Sam feels a little lighter with that knowledge, like a little bit of the darkness he's carried for years has faded.
He suspects that might have been Gabriel's intent, but he can't for the life of him figure out why.
A contemplative silence stretches between the three.
"So then why didn't Team Apocalypse try to jump his bones then when I said no? Wouldn't it have been easier if Michael had just taken Lucifer's new toy away?" Dean finally asks, he seems to be taking the news in stride, which surprises Sam. Maybe he's just too burnt out to blow another fuse right now.
"The demon blood had the added bonus of ruining the vessel for its intended dance partner. If Michael had tried to tango with Sam, his blood would have rejected him. It would have destroyed his body in hours."
"So, let me get this straight, Lucifer had Azazel crash the archangel bake-off and spit in as many pies as he could?" Sam blanches at Dean's choice of metaphor.
"And had his own little demonic pie contest," the angel continues. "Gift-wrapped the tastiest one for Lucifer." And if the thought isn't disturbing enough, Gabriel chooses that moment to wink suggestively at Sam and the younger Winchester freezes when his stomach does a bizarre little flip-flop.
Oh God. Sam is mortified as he feels his cheeks heat up. He's not going to blush. He's not blushing. Seriously. Goddammit, he'll never hear the end of it.
"Oh- Oh, that's just not right," Dean mutters morosely. "The Devil ate my brother's pie." He puts his face in his hands. And Gabriel is thankfully distracted by staring at Dean again, squinting his eyes in concentration.
"So, what? We're going with this vessel connection theory?" Sam asks quickly, trying really hard to not think about what his brother just said. The last thing he needs right now is to start hellucinating about that.
Gabriel drops his feet from the table and sits forward, eyes never leaving Dean.
"I just got one question for Jean Grey, here." Dean spreads his fingers, eyes peeking out warily from behind his hands. Gabriel is quiet for a moment, deliberating something.
"These dreams, are you seeing the big picture or are you a part of the show?" the angel asks finally. Dean's hands slowly drop to his lap.
"I was there. It was like I was a person there," he says softly, sounding slightly hoarse.
"As the damsel in distress?" Gabriel's eyes narrow.
"No," Dean scoffs.
"As the bad guy?"
"What? -No! I don't know what I was. I was tied up and it fucking hurt. There was fire and red glowing shit written on the walls-" And then Dean freezes, eyes widening. "Sonuvabitch," he breaths.
"What?" Sam asks.
"The crap on the walls, it was Enochian. That's why it looked so damn familiar, they were kinda like the angel proofing Bobby covered the house in when..." Dean trails off, jaw clenching. Sam doesn't need him to finish, he knows what his brother means.
When they were trying to keep Castiel out.
"Man, Crowley really doesn't want you feather heads up in his shit," Dean surmises.
And that's when they both realize that they're short one angel.
"Must run in the family," Sam murmurs, turning back to his laptop as his brother flops back on the bed saying something about dick angels and sucky goodbyes. Sam can't help but smile.
"Well ladies, I got us another lead."
Dean surges up, automatically reaching for his gun. Sam knocks over his chair in his rush to stand at the sudden declaration. Gabriel blinks at them innocently, causally leaning against the wall next to the table as if he'd never left.
"Don't friggin' do that!" Dean shouts, shakily putting his gun down.
"Geez, lighten up," Gabriel huffs, unwrapping a sucker and popping it into his mouth. Sam wonders if angels can get cavities; he really hopes they can.
"Do you guys take lessons in bad entrances? 'Cause you and all your bros, you guys suck at it."
"Yeah, at S-C-Screw-You," the former trickster replies snarkily.
"Look, just-" Sam pauses to rub his forehead, feeling an honest to God normal headache coming on. "-just tell us what you found. Please."
Gabriel deflates some and grins. "Well, since you asked so nicely." He glances at Dean. The man sticks his tongue out. Sam wants to scream.
Luckily, the angel doesn't retaliate. "There's an old building in the woods north-east of here covered in angel proofing. Looks like the typical rat-infested, spooky shit you two to get hard-ons for," he says, pointing between the two.
"Great." Sam sighs, clapping his hands on his thighs.
Dean rolls his eyes and falls back on the bed again.
"One more question." Gabriel produces a piece of paper from nowhere and walks over, shoving it in Dean's face. "Recognize her?"
Dean snatches the paper and holds it above his face, squinting at it for a moment. "No, who is she?"
"She's the other vessel that disappeared. Vanished early in the morning the day I came to see you."
Sam goes over and plucks the paper form Dean's slackened grip, examining it. A pretty young woman with shoulder length dark brown hair and green eyes smiles up at him from what looks like a college graduation photo.
"If you don't recognize her then there's a chance she's still alive."
And with that little revelation, the angel is gone.
It takes them the better part of the afternoon to find the place.
"It had to be an old asylum," Dean mutters to himself as they cover the Camero in fallen pine branches.
They've parked the car at the edge of the woods that circle the abandoned building and Sam has somehow convinced him that it would be wise to camouflage it.
"Hey, coulda been worse," Sam states, covering the back end.
"Oh really? How exactly?" Dean demands, stepping back to admire their work. Yeah, no one would notice this yellow car here. In the woods. Covered in dead branches. Never going to happen.
Sam looks at him and utters one horrifying word.
"Witches."
"...Touche. Right, lets go." And with that they begin their trek through the woods.
An uneventful five minute walk later, they're staring at the building from the tree line of a large, flat clearing of thick, knee-length grass. It stands like a brick monolith, casting a foreboding shadow. Rhode Island State Asylum has been closed for a few years and apparently utterly forgotten by society. It's a perfect place for quietly committing diabolical crimes against nature. Or whatever the hell Crowley is up to.
The place is completely unguarded.
"Dude."
"Yeah, something's not right here."
"Maybe this isn't the place."
"Oh, yeah. Because there are probably four or five friggin' creepy, rundown buildings out here," Dean says sarcastically.
"No, just the one. There's a piss-poorly disguised Camero about a quarter mile from here though," a voice suddenly answers from behind them. Gah, he'd known that was a stupid idea. They turn in unison to stare at the former fake pagan god leaning on a tree behind them. "Honestly, I think it would have looked less conspicuous if you had just set it on fire." Gabriel gives them a dubious look.
"Dude," Dean begins, shoving his finger in Sam's direction. "It was his idea."
Sam huffs indignantly. "It was a good idea!"
"Maybe if we were boyscouts. And twelve."
"Anyway." Sam turns back to the building, cheerfully flipping Dean off. "It looks pretty deserted." And it does. It looks like no one has been there in years. Certainly doesn't look like any hocus pocus shit is going down.
"Well, it's, you know, lit up like a friggin' lite-brite with invisible angel proofing. So something's going on in there."
Gabriel walks forward to join them. "I'm guessing, judging by Dean-o's dream, that there's more warding on the inside too. Look at the windows." Dean squints and sure enough there are red squiggles on every. Single. Window. Dammit.
"And since I'm sure you two scoobies are just gonna go barging in there," Gabriel speculates, his face softening slightly. "A word of warning." The archangel turns his attention on Dean.
"I don't think lil' bro ever told you this, he probably didn't want you to know. Your track record shows that you don't seem to have any trouble with the warding. But Dean, don't go playing leap frog with any holy fire, okay?" Gabriel's looking serious again, and having all that focus focused on him is unnerving.
"Wasn't on my bucket list, but now I gotta ask. Why?" Dean frowns.
"I have it on good authority that when Castiel dragged you outta Hell, he left a fragment of himself behind." Dean isn't sure what he expected Gabriel to say, but that sure as hell hadn't been it.
"What, you mean like, in the pit?" he asks slowly.
"No, in you."
What the fuck?
"That's-" Dean reflexively touches his chest. "Why the hell would he do that?" Dean demands incredulously. Sam remains silent but Dean can see the confusion plain on his face.
He's more than a little disturbed by the idea. Hell, he feels kind of violated. Apparently he's been carrying around a piece of Cas for the last three and a half years? And nobody ever thought to share that information with him? ...Cas never thought to tell him? Sure Gabriel's telling him now, but it's a little late in the ball game. He has no fucking clue what this means.
"I can't answer that," the angel says cryptically. "I just thought you'd like to know you have a piece of lil' bro in there. I'd hate to see anything happen to it." And despite his confusion and anger, Dean can't help but agree with that. He knows for certain that he doesn't want to, unwittingly or no, kill the last bit they have of their friend with holy fire.
And then he begins to wonder if- if he focuses really hard... maybe he can feel...
But no, he doesn't feel anything. There's nothing but the same empty ache that's been there since he watched a trench coated figure sink beneath the dark Municipal Waters of Bootbock, Kansas. That hollow feeling that sits deep inside...
He's going to lose his damn mind before this is over.
Maybe he already has.
Knock it off.
"Good authority? More Chuck?" Sam asks, sounding suspicious and indignant on Dean's behalf.
"Jimmy Novak, actually."
"Jimmy? Jimmy's alive?" Sam echoes Dean's surprised exclamation. A small warm feeling flickers to life in his chest and Dean hates himself for daring to hope so easily.
"No." Gabriel has the decency to look apologetic. And just as fast the feeling snuffs out, as if it never existed, leaving Dean feeling stupidly disappointed and cold.
"Then how?"
"Ol' Jimmy boy's been eating at the great White Castle in the sky since Raphael smote him and lil' bro to Kingdom Come in that prophet's living room. He apparently didn't revive with Cas."
Well that's a bit of a relief. Sad and messed up, but a relief none the less. At least the man hadn't had to suffer through the last two and a half years. And who knows what would have happened to him, trapped in there with the leviathans. They still don't know what really happened...
He's gone. He's dead.
Dean has to physically shake himself out of that train of thought. They have a job to do, he needs to focus on that. They have someone to save now.
"Alright, we'll check this out. Come on, Velma." He motions for Sam to follow him.
His brother rolls his eyes, but obliges. "We'll see you later," Sam throws over his shoulder.
"Hold up a sec," the angel calls behind them. Sam turns around just in time to catch a pouch that's tossed at him. "You might need that."
"What is it? A hex bag?" Dean eyes the leather sack dubiously. For all they know it could come to life and start biting.
"No, call it a supernatural Bat-Signal. Burn it if you run into trouble, it'll tip off the cavalry."
"And how exactly do you plan on get in there?"
"Who says I'll be the one that's coming?" Gabriel waves off Dean's question. "Don't loose it. And don't use it unless it's life or death. I had to call in a favor for that and he wasn't a happy camper." The former trickster smirks and vanishes without elaborating.
Dickwad.
A/N: Anybody still with me? Oh, good. I was a little worried. Not going to lie, this chapter and me? Yeah, we have a rocky relationship. Not going to say that I gave up on it (because I really did try very hard), but I finally accepted that Cuatro is just going to be a difficult child and have since moved on to working on it's much better behaved (and almost finished) little sister, Cinco.
I played with some weird ideas in this chapter. I hope it makes sense to you all. Honestly, I've read this thing so many times I've gone cross-eyed and can't really tell up from down anymore. I figure it must be canon for angels and demons to not be able to see people's souls just by looking at them since no one seems to notice that Sam doesn't have one for a good chunk of time.
Also, Gabriel refused to cooperate and started sneaking random Sabriel in there.
The mascot of S-C-Screw-You is, ironically, a bolt named Hammers.
I'd love to hear from you all and know if any of this makes any sense!
