A/N: Some lines in the later scene are from the episode "Inside Man."
Chapter 6: Raise the Stakes
A guttural moan rumbled in Dean's throat, and his eyelids fluttered blearily, filling his vision with an opaque red haze. What the hell had just happened? He shifted his shoulders, grunting when pain lanced down his spine. The corner of the sliding shelf unit was poking him in the kidney, so he rolled away from it to brace himself on his hands and knees. Wispy tendrils curled along the edges of his sight and he blinked repeatedly to clear them. What was with the red glow? Wait, the bunker's emergency lights were on. Why…?
There was a mechanical whir somewhere within the walls, and the red bulbs extinguished as the main power came back on. Dean's gaze immediately sharpened on Sam lying flat on the floor next to him.
"No." Dean surged forward and gripped Sam by the collar, his other hand frantically shooting toward the gaping stab wound. Only, there wasn't any blood. There wasn't even a hole in Sam's shirt. Dean yanked the flannel up, revealing nothing but skin, whole and intact. He rocked back on his haunches. Sam was alive; Metatron hadn't killed him.
Sam groaned and pried his eyes open. "D'n? Wha-the-'ell happened?" he slurred, and tried to sit up.
"I don't know." He finally looked around the rest of the room. Hannah was slumped upright against the back wall, head turning side to side as she regained her senses. Metatron was on the floor next to her, making a low keening sound, and the prisoner chair had been flung into the far corner. And in the center of the room, amidst a scorched Devil's trap, lay Cas. Dean's heart plummeted into his stomach. Oh god, were those wing prints?
"Son-of-a-bitch." He scrambled toward the angel, scuffing through charred paint. The streaks weren't feathers though, just shadowed ripples burnt into the concrete. "Cas?" Dean gave him a small shake, but got no response. Sam crawled over and held his hand over Castiel's mouth and nose.
"He's breathing. Sort of."
Dean glanced around helplessly, gaze locking with Hannah's as she stumbled to her feet. "What the hell was that?"
She shook her head dazedly.
"Cas?" Sam called, and Dean looked down to find Castiel's face scrunching up as he clawed his way back to consciousness. Hannah inched forward hesitantly.
"Cas?" Dean echoed, squeezing the angel's shoulder.
Cas slowly opened his eyes to reveal pupils blown wide and cloudy. "Wh-what happened?" he asked groggily.
"You tell us," Dean groused. "You alright?"
Cas blinked at him.
Right, stupid question.
"Was it because you healed me?" Sam asked as he and Dean helped haul Cas into a sitting position and hold him steady when he reached up to clutch his forehead. "Which, you know, thanks."
A frown tugged at Castiel's mouth. "I…suppose when I used the grace…there was a surge."
"Understatement," Dean muttered, glancing around at the singed floor and busted chair. It was probably a miracle they hadn't just blown the whole bunker to oblivion.
Metatron coughed then, and pushed himself upright to sag against the wall. "Wow. I gotta say, not even I was expecting that." He made a slurping sound and leaned sideways to spit a glob of blood and saliva on the floor. A gargled chuckle rattled in his throat. "Too bad all that power will kill you. Otherwise you could have been the new God, Castiel—successfully this time."
Cas's face darkened, even though he wasn't currently facing the douche-angel in order to glare daggers at him. Dean almost volunteered to smack the dickhead for him, but the rush of excitement that flooded his system at the prospect was simultaneously like an ice bucket over his head. Dean knew he'd crossed the line earlier. He wasn't even sure when the transition had happened, when he'd gone from purposeful interrogator to reveling in the feel of Metatron's soft flesh giving under his blows. Part of him—a dark, festering blight deep within his soul—blamed Metatron for hurting Sam, wanted to punish the angel more for almost killing his brother. But another part of Dean knew that if he hadn't lost his cool, Metatron wouldn't have been able to catch them off guard. That was on him.
He needed to get away from the dungeon for a little bit. It'd probably even be best if Sam took over the questioning from this point forward. Dean was just lucky Hannah had come in after Metatron's escape attempt, so the angel's injuries could be explained as self-defense. They'd be screwed if she decided to pull the plug because he'd used what she considered 'excessive force.'
Who are you kidding? Dean glanced back at Metatron's swollen cheekbone and split lip. Any normal person would call that excessive.
"Can you stand?" he asked Cas, hoarse voice betraying his simmering emotions. Cas and Hannah were probably too stunned by the mini explosion to pay attention, but Dean knew by the tense set of Sam's jaw that he wasn't fooled. After all, he'd been there and witnessed Dean going off the rails.
Cas nodded, and proceeded to get up off the floor, with the brothers' help. The lights buzzed at a low frequency, causing Dean and Sam to freeze. Hannah merely angled a curious look at the fixtures, while Cas squeezed his eyes shut until the droning stopped.
"Sorry," he rasped.
"Okay, let's sit you down somewhere that's not here." Though, really it was Dean who needed to be elsewhere.
"What about me?" Metatron whined, struggling to stand without the use of his arms for balance. "I'm the victim here!"
Dean's hand subconsciously fisted in Cas's trench coat, but before he could lose it again, Hannah whirled back around and marched toward Metatron. She pressed two fingers to his forehead roughly, and an instant later his cuts and bruises had vanished. All evidence of Dean's crimes erased.
"Now sit down and shut up," she ordered.
Sam arched a surprised brow as Hannah then stormed out of the dungeon. Dean let his brother take most of Castiel's weight as they followed, and he paused in the outer corridor to cast one last look inside before engaging the lock. Metatron's lips curved in a sneer as the sliding shelves skidded shut.
The four of them shuffled out to the library, the second most spacious area besides the garage where Dean could pace through his growing agitation. Sam eased Cas into one of the chairs, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
"What happened in there?" Hannah demanded.
"You saw." Dean gestured at Cas. "Cas had some kind of power surge."
"Not that. With Metatron. How did he get the angel blade away from you?"
Sam flicked a quick look at Dean before dropping his gaze to the floor. Cas probably would've been eyeing him with angelic laser beams if he weren't currently pinching the bridge of his nose against what was likely a killer headache.
Dean lifted his chin as though he had nothin' to hide. He was damn good at faking it, too. "Sam and I were having a little pow-wow on how best to get answers, and Metatron decided to make his move, I guess. It was a stupid move, too." He turned away from their faces though, not wanting to see the pointed glares or 'I-told-you-so' expressions. Because Metatron's 'stupid move' had almost cost Sam his life. And healing Sam could have cost Cas his, not to mention the state of Kansas. Yeah, Dean really needed to get a grip on the Mark.
Sam cleared his throat. "Okay look, we may have had a…hiccup."
Dean canted his head wryly, earning an eye roll in return.
"But we're all okay," Sam continued. "And before Metatron tried to escape, he admitted he does have a Heavenly artifact that can contain the unstable grace. Said it was a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, or whatever."
Hannah's brows knitted together. "Alright. Where is it?"
"Uh, we didn't get that far." Sam once again cast a furtive look Dean's way, which Dean really wished he would stop doing. He'd simply lost his temper for crying out loud; he wasn't the one going radioactive!
Sam lowered his gaze to Cas. "He, uh, also said that removing the stolen grace could kill you unless we have your original grace."
Cas didn't say anything. He didn't look surprised, or panicked, or worried, just thoughtful. "Metatron said my current power level could rival God's…"
Dean felt something inside of him snap. "So what? You planning on going Godstiel on us again?" The look of scorn Cas shot him in return made Dean instantly feel guilty. He knew Cas better than that.
"What that means," Castiel ground out. "Is I may be able to remove the Mark myself."
Sam sucked in a sharp breath, while Dean could only stare dumbly in response. Get rid of the Mark, just like that? He didn't know whether it was desperate desire, or if the Mark somehow sensed that it was true, but Dean's forearm started to tingle.
"Well let's try it," Sam exclaimed.
"Castiel," Hannah interjected urgently. "Using the grace will only accelerate the chain reaction, as you just saw when you healed Sam Winchester."
Dean's hopes snuffed out like a candle in the face of a hurricane. Of course, because when could they ever catch a break?
"But after we get the special container, Cas can remove the Mark, and then we drain the grace before it blows," Sam barreled on, his frenzied expression causing a fissure to rend through Dean's heart; he hated causing his little brother pain.
Hannah pulled her shoulders back in frustration. "More likely you'll detonate the grace before you can safely get it out of Castiel. At the very least he'll be too damaged for even his own grace to save him!"
Sam's cheeks flared as he fought to hold in a return outburst. He wanted to cure Dean so badly, but Dean wasn't willing to sacrifice Cas to do it.
A heavy sigh from Castiel interrupted the mounting tension. "None of this matters because Metatron will not give up the items."
Sam exchanged a defeated look with Dean, who felt a whole fresh wave of guilt at his failure.
He rolled his shoulder, attempting to focus on the problem at hand. "We need to change the game. Change the stakes."
Hannah quirked a brow. "What do you mean?"
Dean fell silent for a long moment as he tried to sort past his tumultuous emotions and come up with a plan. He felt everyone's eyes on him, but it was Cas he looked to first. They needed to succeed for him. His life was on the line, and all because of the maniac angel sitting in their dungeon. Metatron had started all of this when he took Cas's grace, and the fact that they needed him to fix it rankled Dean to no end.
He straightened as an idea began to form, and this time the eagerness that stirred him to life had nothing to do with the Mark's thirst for blood. No, this was pure, unadulterated justice.
"I know what to do."
0-o-0-o-0
The four of them marched back to the dungeon in full accord with their plan. It had taken less convincing than Dean would have thought to get Hannah on board. Despite the disagreements the two of them may have had in the past, at least she genuinely cared about Cas. That was one thing Dean and the angel chick could unite on.
The storage brackets slid open, revealing Metatron sitting on the floor, legs stretched straight out. "Lost your autonomous privileges, I see." He leaned forward. "Good. You all better keep him on a tight leash."
Dean just smiled genially. "No worries, I'm not into fulfilling your bondage fetish. Maybe after we're done here, she will." He cocked his head toward Hannah, who unfortunately couldn't even follow the conversation, and had probably never heard of a dominatrix before.
Metatron pushed himself off the floor to stand, though without the Angel Tablet to juice him up, he was really just a small, pathetic dweeb.
"So, you gonna help us?" Dean asked.
"Mhm, are you gonna pay the piper? And by the way, the cost has doubled."
"You don't get to make demands, Metatron," Cas growled. "You're not in charge here."
The smarmy bastard gave them a simpering smile. "Oh, I'm afraid I am. I know about the Mark. I have your grace. I make the rules. It's called leverage, boys. Learn it, live it, love it."
Castiel looked at Dean, who nodded encouragingly. They had decided Cas should have the honor of doing this, and Dean was gonna savor it.
Cas strode forward, angel blade in hand, and before Metatron could even process what was happening, Cas had sliced the blade across his neck. With his other hand, he held a little glass jar beneath Metatron's chin as bluish-white grace spilled into it. Then he stepped back, and Hannah moved in with a swipe of her hand to heal the slit throat. It all happened in a few seconds, way shorter than the son-of-a-bitch deserved.
Just as Metatron gasped in a startled breath, Sam pulled out a gun and shot him in the leg. Dean was a little jealous he couldn't have participated, but he knew it would have been a bad idea. They needed to make progress here, not five steps back from him losing it. He certainly was enjoying the experience vicariously though.
Metatron yelped and jerked back against the wall. "Ow, ow!" One hand clutched his thigh as the other tried to hold himself up.
"We have your grace, Metatron," Cas said, sounding stronger and more self-assured than he had in days. "You're mortal now. So you will answer our questions, or Sam will, um…what's the phrase? Blow your fricking brains out. It's called leverage, Metatron."
Sam smirked. "Learn it, live it, love it. Now, where's this special box and Cas's grace?"
Metatron's face puffed red as he seethed at them.
Cas cocked his head. "Nothing to say? Fine. Sam, shoot him." He turned a dismissive shoulder on Metatron, who instantly started whimpering like a whipped puppy.
"Alright, alright!" He scowled. "I'll take you to them."
Dean had to work at keeping a smug grin off his face.
Sam moved closer to him, turning his back on Metatron and speaking in a low tone. "Listen, you and Cas should stay here since you're both kinda, um, unstable."
Dean's initial reaction was to yell that there was no friggin' way he was letting Sam go off alone with Metatron, but the concern mixed with anxiety in his brother's face made him reconsider. For one thing, Sam was probably right about Cas. Getting the Heavenly paperweight and his grace to him sooner would be better, but they couldn't very well go off and risk blowing an entire city's power grid. And he shouldn't stay at the bunker by himself. After Sam nearly died, Dean wanted nothing more than to insist he stay with Cas while Dean took Metatron on a road trip. But that was an even more catastrophic idea.
Dean sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Yeah, alright." At least Sam wouldn't actually be alone; Hannah would be going as well. Dean just didn't have much confidence in her as Sam's back-up.
Sam nodded to Hannah, who grabbed Metatron's shoulder and began shoving him toward the exit.
Cas held out the bottle of grace to Dean. "You should hold onto this. I probably shouldn't be anywhere near extra grace right now," he said ruefully.
"Hey, be careful with that!" Metatron carped. "I'll remind you that the Ark isn't going to keep the grace contained forever. Who else are you gonna get to fly it out to Pluto?"
Dean pocketed the small jar. "Actually, that's the one part in all this I do have covered."
Sam gave him a questioning look, but he didn't elaborate.
"Wait!" Metatron blubbered as Hannah propelled him into the hall.
Sam gave Dean and Cas one last look of silent wishes for them to hang tight and stay safe. Dean nodded for Sam to do the same. Then Sam left, and his retreating footsteps gradually petered out.
Dean feigned a shudder. "I'm gonna have to bleach the back of the Impala to get Metatron cooties off it when they get back."
Cas didn't respond, but slumped one shoulder against the wall. He'd either been faking the strength he'd displayed in front of Metatron, or he'd expended what little reserve he had left.
Dean suppressed a sigh, and reached out to take Cas by the elbow. "Okay, back to bed for you."
Cas didn't protest as Dean led him back to his room. He sat on the bed, but didn't lay down on the ice packs, which had long since turned lukewarm and slushy.
"Nice poker face back there," Dean complimented, patting Cas on the back. "Though you may have jumped to threatening to blow his brains out a little fast."
Cas looked away toward the wall, which to Dean screamed classic avoidance mode.
"What the hell—you weren't bluffing." He shook his head. "Come on, Cas, we couldn't actually kill Metatron."
"He's our best option, not our only one," Cas replied.
Dean frowned. "What other option is there? 'Cause I didn't hear you speaking up before."
Cas's shoulders heaved with a sigh, and he finally turned back to meet Dean's gaze. "If Sam and Hannah don't make it back on time, or if Metatron was lying, there's possibly a way to minimize the extent of the explosion. A focusing sigil, something to prevent the grace from wiping out the state. Perhaps only a few acres instead."
Dean blinked at him for a long moment, processing what Cas wasn't saying. "Taking you with it." He surged to his feet. "Dammit, Cas."
"If it becomes necessary, yes. The grace will detonate anyway, Dean. I hope Sam and Hannah find this artifact and make it back in time, but if they don't, I will not be responsible for more deaths if I can help it."
Dean whirled on him. "First of all, stop thinking like that. Sam will find this box and your grace, and we'll save the world by the skin of our teeth like we always do."
"I know," Cas said simply. "I have faith in that. But, Dean, you have to be prepared for the possibility that saving the world does not necessarily include saving me."
"Not an option."
Cas's lips twitched, and he resumed gazing at the wall. Dean's eyes traced the bare shelves. They needed something, something to declare this as 'Cas's' rather than just a guest room. Dean didn't really know what an angel might decorate his living space with; they didn't seem to have anything in the way of personal possessions. Aside from angel blades, of course. Dean would have to pick up some stuff. Maybe a Constantine poster. Cas should understand the reference now, at least.
Yeah, Dean would spiff this place up, in case Cas needed it after the grace transfusion. Or just because he wanted Cas to know this was his home too. And always would be.