Chapter Four: Be Still

Dean was testy. He, Sam, and Cas just spent a week at Bobby's researching and waiting for major power outages, and all they had to show for it was an empty fridge and short tempers. Dean sighed and slammed his current bust of a book closed. "That's another..." he glanced at his watch, "six hours of my life down the drain." Dean sat up from where he'd been lounging on Bobby's couch and tossed the book onto the towering discard pile. "Seriously, guys. We've been through Bobby's whole library by now. If there was something here, we'd have found it."

Sam massaged the back of his neck with one hand, jotting down a note with the other. "I hate to admit it, but I think you're right," he said. "We need to find out more about this weapon, but we just don't have the resources here."

Cas closed his own book. "Perhaps we simply need a new source, then." He wore his shifty, 'I'm being a sneaky angel' look.

Dean was always suspicious of that look. "What'd you have in mind, Cas?"

The angel looked him in the eye. "Not what. Who."

Dean cocked his head, eyebrows scrunched.

Sam got it, though. "Balthazar." He tossed the pen he'd been scribbling notes with back onto Bobby's desk and walked over to Cas. "He stole a bunch of weapons from Heaven, so you think he might have taken inventory before he bailed?"

Castiel nodded. "Aside from Virgil, the Weapon's Keeper of Heaven, Balthazar is the foremost expert on the subject."

Dean shook his head and pushed himself off the couch. "That prick hates our guts. No way he helps us."

Cas's chin came up. "He also owes me a debt. I believe he will honor that."

They needed a tiebreaker. Dean and Cas's heads turned toward Sam like they shared a swivel. Sam swallowed.

"Dean and I aren't exactly in Balthazar's fanclub, Cas, and he's definitely not in ours..." Sam sighed. "But if you think it's worth a shot, I say we go for it."

"Excellent. I will summon him immediately." The angel looked at Dean (a bit smugly, too, Dean thought). "I will need myrrh."

Dean rolled his eyes and marched off to grab the myrrh from Bobby's pantry, mouthing "traitor" at Sam as he passed.

Cas made quick work of the angelic summoning spell. A few awkward moments passed, where Dean silently hoped the v-necked dick wouldn't show.

"Haven't you lot ever heard of a telephone?" No such luck, apparently.

Dean was just about to tell the guy to stow the sarcasm, when Balthazar's face switch from cynical to serious. "My god, Cassie. You look terrible." The angel rounded on Dean. "What did you monkeys do to him?!"

Before Dean could react, Balthazar had him up against the wall, a fist in his collar.

"Let him be, Balthazar," Castiel commanded. "I was injured by Raphael."

Balthazar dropped Dean, who glared at Cas for a second. He didn't need rescuing. He wasn't a goddamn princess for fuck's sake. Dean straightened up and pushed himself away from the wall. "Hello to you too, asshole," he spat at Balthazar. "Cas looks like hell because your dick older brother hit him with one of Heaven's weapons. Maybe you know something about that."

Sam stepped in before things got (more) violent. "We're just looking for information," he explained, puppy dog eyes out in full swing. "Cas said you're something of an expert."

Balthazar tore his gaze away from Castiel and shifted between Sam and Dean. "I might know something about something. Which weapon was it?"

"Our brother wielded the Elhiym Yad against my forces in our last battle."

Balthazar whistled a low note. "I know that one, yes. I'm actually surprised you're still standing. Or still existing at all, really."

Something passed between the two angels. Dean didn't like it. Their little silent conversation was weirding him out. "I sold him my soul, okay," he blurted out to break the silence. "Cas is recharging using me."

Balthazar's eyebrows went up, but his gaze didn't leave Cas's face. "So that's how it is," he murmured. Cas put on his best poker face, which was terrible. Dean's confused gaze shifted between the two angels as he tried to figure out what it was Cas was trying to hide. Clearly Dean was missing something here.

Before the tension in the room could get any thicker, Sam sliced through it. "Balthazar, do you know anything about the Deus Manu that might help us against Raphael? Anything at all?"

Balthazar kept his staring contest with Cas going for a long second, then he sighed, apparently not liking what he saw. "Sorry boys, no can do. That weapon was in the section labelled 'don't fuck with this shit' so I steered clear. If there's nothing else..."

Dean lunged forward and grabbed the flakey angel's arm. "Don't you dare take off without telling us anything. You may think jack shit of me and Sam, but Cas is your friend. Fucking act like it!"

Balthazar shoved him off. "That's rich, coming from you, ape. Do you have any idea what Cassie's done to himself by tying his grace to you?"

"Balthazar, that's enough," Cas cut in.

"Cassie," Balthazar started.

"I said enough," Castiel growled, ending the discussion. Dean wanted to press Cas for more information, because if the idiot somehow hurt himself by asking Dean for help instead of someone with a better soul, so help him... But, Dean knew from the look on Cas's face that now was not a good time. Good thing he had something else to interrogate Balthazar about.

"Well, if you don't know anything about Raphael's new toy, what can you tell us about why angels are suddenly buying up human souls? We know you're in that game."

Balthazar did not look thrilled at Dean's choice of topic. Sam just looked puzzled. "Dean, that's a little off topic, isn't it?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But Death, you know the Horseman Death, he thought it was worth looking into." That sure got everyone's attention.

"What? When did Death talk to you about souls?" Sam asked.

"Right after he put yours back where it belongs." Dean was glad to see his name-drop shook Balthazar up a bit. The winged douche gulped and glanced from Dean to Cas and back again.

"You have friends in unexpectedly high places, Dean Winchester."

Dean twisted one hand back and forth in a "maybe" gesture. "Friends might be too strong a word," Dean locked eyes with the angel, "but he was mighty interested in what you and the other wanna-be crossroads demons have been up to."

Balthazar glared and pressed his lips together. Dean decided to push his luck a little more. "C'mon, Balthy. Caring and sharing time. Otherwise I'm gonna have to go back to the boss and tell him you wouldn't squeal."

Balthazar closed his eyes. "Cassie, bring your pet to heel before I lose my temper."

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and raised one eyebrow a millimeter. Dean backed off, reluctantly. One more look at Sam's sincerest sincere puppy dog eyes, and Balthazar decided he didn't want to be on Death's bad side, after all.

"You know that I've only bargained for a few souls in an attempt to save my own ass. As for the rest, Raphael seems to think that whomever wields the Elhiym Yad needs to own the soul supplying its bullets. Big brother has his henchmen buying up any innocent souls that are on the market." He sighed, then looked as Castiel. "There's one more thing, and please don't get yourself killed because of this, Cassie. Raphael's not just looking to reload his latest weapon with souls. He has his lackeys searching for other sources of souls, ones that he wouldn't need to buy. If he gets hold of them, Cassie..."

"I'm dead, along with all of my followers." Castiel nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. Dean could've sworn in that moment that his angel carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Be careful, Cassie." Then Balthazar was gone.

Sam rounded on Dean. "Maybe the next time you have a heart to heart with Death you could let me know?!"

Cas didn't sound any happier. "That is pertinent information that should be shared, Dean."

Dean threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Next time friggin' Death shows up to give me an assignment you two'll be the first to know."

Sam ran his fingers through his (too-long) hair. "So, you're what, researching souls for Death?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. He told me to find out who's buying them and why, especially angels."

"How many souls have claims on them, Dean?" Cas stared into the distance, clearly onto something.

"I don't know," Dean replied, edging closer to Cas. "It sounded like a lot."

"It'd have to be way more than usual to get Death's attention, right?" Sam reasoned.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, and I suspect with what Balthazar mentioned about Raphael looking for more even more souls, now we know why his troops have been laying claims."

Sam and Dean exchanged baffled looks. Castiel adjusted his stance, leaning toward the two hunters before delivering his conclusion. "Raphael is storing up munitions. He is planning a war."

Dean glanced at Sam, who bit his lip, then looked back at Cas. "No offense, Cas, but are you that big a threat? It sounds like ninja turtle's really mobilizing."

Cas shook his head, solemn. "I am not."

"Then what's he gearing up for?" Sam asked.

None of them had a good answer.

For probably the hundredth time in two hours, Sam thanked his lucky stars that Cas didn't share Dean's taste in music. Maybe he should thank his guardian angel instead... Ha. After Balthazar left, Sam focused on the search for power outages and missing persons reports for children. That led them to Ellensburg, a town about two hours east of Seattle, pretty quickly. Five missing kids in as many days, and power surges strong enough to black out the south side of Seattle.

Since Balthazar hadn't had any useful information on the Hand of God, their brilliant plan was: "snatch the Deus Manu out from under the archangel's nose, and don't get killed." Unsurprisingly, Castiel didn't exactly approve of this plan, but he'd flown Dean and Sam across the country this morning anyway (Bobby had a zombie thing to take care of in Dubuque). Then Cas had tracked Raphael's grace to a ramshackle office building on the edge of what passed for the small town's business district. Then the three of them packed into an abandoned (but running, kind of) Pinto and settled in for a stakeout.

Four hours in and still no signs of intelligent life inside the abandoned warehouse... and not too many inside the Pinto, either, Sam thought. Rain dripped in from the cracks in the car's seals and their breath misted in the cold air, but the crappy weather was really no excuse for how testy Dean was being right now. His brother bitched about Sam's choice in music all the time (whatever, Jason Manns is an under-appreciated genius), but falling back on his "driver picks the music" bullshit grated on Sam's last nerve.

"The tonal quality of this music is more pleasant to hear than your choice, Dean," and heck yes the angel liked Sam's music better than AC/DC. Unfortunately, Cas prevented Sam from gloating by waving his fingers to silence the music from the backseat.

"Dude, did you just mojo the radio?" Dean glared.

Cas's face implied he couldn't believe Dean had to ask. "Silence is preferable. We are on a... stakeout."

Dean turned the knob to play the radio again, but nothing happened. He twisted the dial back and forth, but not even static came out of the speakers.

"Cas..." Sam winced at Dean's growl. Doesn't his throat hurt sometimes? Maybe he should've just let Dean play his classic rock. Things had been tense enough between Dean and his angel recently.

"Fix whatever the hell you did to the radio. I'm bored to death, here!"

"No."

"Fuck you."

"Dean – "

"No. I don't want your fucking excuses. Fix the damn car or leave me alone!"

Sam leaned forward, staring at the warehouse. "Guys..."

"Dean you are being unreasonable."

"Screw unreasonable. I love that song!"

Sam pressed his binoculars to his eyes. "Guys."

"Sometimes I think you enjoy listening to your music than you enjoy my company."

"Dude, that doesn't even make any sense. Apples and oranges."

Sam reached over and smacked Dean in the side with his free hand. "Guys!"

"Christ Sam, what?!"

Sam pointed at the only visible window on the ground level of the abandoned office building. A faint light that hadn't been there before glowed from the inside the supposedly empty building.

"I will look into it," Cas intoned.

"Well, you're not going by yourself again." Dean shoved the driver's side door open and climbed out of the Pinto. "You already dodged a bullet finding the joint, and we're not lucky enough for two solo missions on one hunt. Sammy, watch our six."

And then Sam was alone in the car.

He banged his forehead against the dash. If Dean was a whirlwind by himself, he and Cas together were a freaking hurricane. Sam sighed and slid into the driver's seat. Well, lookout duty it is. He knew Dean just didn't want him "straining himself" or something right after getting his soul back, but still... He hadn't been relegated to car duty since he was fourteen.

I know, right? Sam's eyes snapped to the driver's seat Dean left empty. Big brothers can be such a pain in the ass, can't they, Sam? The devil met Sam's wild stare. Never there when you need them, always there when you don't want them, Lucifer whined.

"Stay away from me!" Sam tried the door next to him, but it wouldn't open. The window didn't budge, either.

He turned back toward Lucifer. "How did you get out?"

The devil raised an eyebrow. How did you?

"Dean made a deal with Death – "

That's how your soul got sprung, Lucifer interrupted, waving his hand as if shooing away a pesky fly. What about your body, Sam? Who do you think kicked your meat out of my cage?

Sam strained against the window, trying not to feel trapped. Lucifer chuckled. You are trapped, Sammy. Not gonna get out until I say so...

"What do you want? Go away!"

The devil shook his head slowly. Oh, Sam, you disappoint me. We've been through this. I want you to say "yes."

"Never."

Hm. Your definition of "never" may need some adjustment, seeing as you've already let me in once. Satan leered at him. Remember how much fun that was? I do.

Sam rammed a trembling fist against the window. He heard a crack and thought he might have broken through it until pain flashed up his arm.

Getting the party started early, are we Sam? If I'd known you were that eager for pain, we'd've had this little reunion much sooner.

Sam ground his teeth together. "You're not getting back in me, so just go back to Hell where you belong!"

Lucifer pursed his lips. Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen, Sam. As long as you're topside, I'm topside.

Sam's insides turned cold. "What?"

We're a matched set, Sammy! Lucifer leaned in toward him until Sam couldn't back away any further. I told you, MFEO, joined at the hip... Then he started singing. "Wherever you go, whatever you do..."

The "I will be right here waiting for you" sounded much more romantic and a lot less terrifying when Richard Marx sang it. Sam swallowed.

"You're not real," he tried. "I'm just having a really, really vivid flashback." He dragged a hand over his face. The devil didn't disappear.

Instead, Lucifer pulled a knife out of thin air. A knife so long it probably should be called a sword.

That hurts my feelings, Sam. Of course I'm real. Let me show you.

Sam tensed. "You're not real!" he yelled. He yelled even louder when Lucifer started slicing into his skin.

Despite still being ticked at the angel for the whole "borrowing his soul indefinitely without permission" thing, Dean was really, really glad for the backup as he stared down at the clusterfuck he and Cas discovered in the office building.

"Shit." That was the best summary Dean could come up with. They'd snuck into the first floor of the building by climbing through a busted window. After that, it hadn't taken them long to find the source of the light Sam had seen from the car. The majority of the building's basement had been cleared of debris and then painted floor to ceiling with sigils and lit with dozens of candles. It kinda reminded Dean of Bobby's artwork in that barn the first time he'd first laid eyes on Cas. Well, first time not in Hell, anyway. Not that Dean could remember the in-Hell version of events.

In the center of the floor Dean saw a kid strapped to an upright rack, spread-eagled and struggling. His baseball uniform was already stained with dirt and blood. He wasn't more than nine years old, and Dean heard him crying even through the gag stuffed in his mouth.

Beyond the kid, half a dozen cronies tinkered with God-only-knows-what on a table, but Dean would bet an arm they were setting up for the ritual to recharge the batteries in the Hand of God. What a stupid name for a weapon, Dean thought, not for the first time.

Raphael stood between the kid and the staircase, an ancient book in her hands. And yeah, apparently the archangel's Plan B meatsuit was a chick. Not that it made him (her? Whatever, Dean wasn't going to worry about it) any less imposing.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean turned his head slightly to see his friend, hunkered down next to him behind a few empty and upturned filing cabinets piled in front of the stairs that led down to the basement floor. "Better call in the cavalry, man," he whispered. "This is serious shit."

"I don't think mounted soldiers would be tactically advantageous in this scenario, Dean."

Dean glared. "You know what I mean. Quick fucking around! There's a scared kid down there."

Cas looked back at the scene below them. Raphael walked toward the struggling boy, chanting in a language Dean didn't recognize, but it definitely wasn't Enochian. "There's no one for me to call," Cas murmured.

"What about all the angels you suckered into this civil war versus ninja turtle down there?"

Cas closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Every one of my brothers who joined me in this cause has either surrendered or been killed, many both." When he opened his eyes and looked at Dean, there were actually tears there. "I am only grateful there were not multitudes of them to begin with. It was foolish of me to attempt a direct assault, and now I regret ever involving my brothers."

Damn.

"I'm sorry, Cas." The words were too small, but they were the only ones Dean could think of.

"I..." The angel looked away again, and Dean almost couldn't hear the rest. "I had hoped to receive help from my Father."

Dean's jaw clenched. If God does exist, I'm gonna kill him. "Great." Dean ran a hand down his face. "So you're frickin' Custer." He surveyed the basement again, his brain automatically checking for exists and maneuverability. "Guess it's Last Stand time, then." He reached for his cell. "I'll text Sammy, have him bring in some ammo. If we set up some banishing sigils, I think we stand a chance." Which was total bullshit, but Cas didn't need to know that.

Before Dean could even pull his phone out of his pocket, Cas's hand closed like a vice around his wrist. "No, Dean." Dean opened his mouth to tell Cas just what he could do with his "No, Dean" when Raphael got to the part of the ritual that evidently required the angel to speak in his true voice.

The remaining intact windows in the building exploded and Dean curled into a ball, covering his ears against the screeching. He felt Cas' hands cover his own and it helped, a little. Dean still felt like he'd stuck his head inside a church bell, though.

The sound finally cut out and all Dean could hear was the ringing in his ears. He peeked back down the stairs. Raphael stood directly in front of the kid now, face to face almost. The boy wasn't struggling anymore. He hung limply from the straps, but his eyes were open. Open, and glowing. What the fuck?

Cas' hands moved away from Dean's ears and he put a finger to his lips. Dean tried to ask "what the fuck?" without speaking, knowing he'd be too loud with his hearing shot. Cas leaned close and spoke in Dean's ear. He must have used mojo, too, because his voice came through loud and clear to Dean's deaf ears. "The spell Raphael used has brought the human child's soul forth. I've never seen anything like this before." He grabbed Dean's wrist and pulled. "There is nothing more we can do. We must leave immediately."

"No fucking way." Dean didn't care that he barely heard himself. He would not leave that kid down there to die, or worse.

"Hush!" Cas hissed in Dean's ear. His hand flew up to grip Dean's left arm just below the shoulder, right over the place where he'd been marked by Cas before the angel got re-winged and healed him head to toe at Stull Cemetery.

Dean pulled against Cas's impossible grip. "That kid's notgoing to get turned into a fucking battery because I didn't do anything to stop it!"

"We don't know how to stop it. You cannot fight against this right now." Cas tightened his hold, but Dean kept struggling. The angel snarled as he lost his patience and pushed Dean up against the file cabinet, keeping his hand on the mark. "Be still, Dean!"

Dean felt a flash of heat where Cas held his arm and his words hit Dean's core like a double shot of off-brand tequila. A quick, liquid burning followed by a tingling, numbing lethargy. He felt Cas release him, but Dean no longer possessed any desire to move. It was taxing enough to force his sluggish eyes to track Cas' movement back to the stairs for a better vantage point.

Dean slumped back against the cabinet, staring as Cas returned to watching Raphael. Dean knew, somewhere quiet and deep, that he should be pissed beyond belief at Cas for doing this to him, that he should be down there doing his damnedest to kill that bastard Raphael, but the part of him that demanded that of him had been silenced, all his motivation shoved behind an impregnable wall in the back of his mind.

Dean registered one final thought before his brain shut down completely... When this whateverthehell wore off, Cas was gonna have hell to pay.

Castiel watched his older brother channel the power from a human child's soul and transfer it into a weapon of destruction, and he did nothing to stop it. It felt like shredding his grace inside of him, but if Castiel had learned one thing from his short, futile war against Raphael it was to choose his battles wisely.

This was not a battle he and Dean could win, or even survive. Raphael held a fully charged weapon of Heaven in his hands and enough angels around him to ensure he would have time to use it. Castiel would not sacrifice Dean's life, or his own, for the soul of the poor child below. He could not.

He did note the presence of a reaper, lurking in the corner of the warehouse. He hoped it meant the child merely died as a result of the spell draining his energy, rather than suffering the annihilation of his eternal soul.

The angels below him busied themselves either destroying or storing the remaining ingredients from the ritual. Castiel knew they would leave nothing behind for him to find or use. Raphael himself stretched his wings to leave. Castiel gripped Dean's arm and flew them back to the car.

Dean will be upset with him for stilling his mind. Castiel never anticipated his command to Dean's soul would carry such a dramatic weight. He pondered the phenomenon in the immeasurable time of their flight. He had not accounted for the fact that he currently owned Dean's soul. Perhaps their deepened connection amplified the effect of whatever touches his grace and Dean's soul exchanged. He decided to experiment later, if Dean was ever amenable to the idea. The possibilities intrigued him.

Their bond between soul and grace was itself unique in Castiel's experience. Other angels had used human souls for similar purposes in the past, their energy supplementing the angels' enough to make healing otherwise mortal wounds possible. The soul provided the energy necessary to sustain celestial existence so that the angel could focus his own power on self-healing. If Castiel and Dean's connection was like those others, eventually Dean's soul would have supplied enough energy for Castiel to fully heal the wound in his grace. At that point, his ownership of Dean's soul would become redundant.

But, no Winchester ever did anything the ordinary way. Dean's soul had readily accepted the connection to Castiel's grace. More than that, he seemed to revel in it, forcing the channel between them open wide whenever Castiel's own energy faltered. Castiel tried not to be pleased by how much Dean's spirit cared about his wellbeing. Such feelings were dangerous, though not to Dean.

Castiel knew without a doubt that he could not hurt Dean through their bond. Most likely, his miscalculation in calming the hunter would simply result in a few hours of mindless tranquility. Castiel already felt Dean's soul beginning to shake off the influence of his grace. Soon, Dean would return to his normal state. He'll go back to shouting at me, as usual.

An instant after disappearing from the office building, Castiel reappeared beside their "borrowed" vehicle. Just as he settled Dean on the ground beside the car, Sam thrashed violently within, screaming in pain.

"Sam!" Castiel could not sense the source of Sam's agony, but he rushed inside to attempt to stop it, regardless. When his hand brushed Sam's forehead, three things happened at once.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he stopped screaming.

Dean barked out a surprised laughed from where he sprawled outside.

Castiel sensed his eldest brother for the first time in millennia. He didn't consciously whisper the name, but it came unbidden from his lips.

"Michael."