Thank you for all your feedback and support ;) I know it hasn't been easy to have the longer breaks in between chapters, but the that will soon diminish as I coax back to my pre-written chapters for this story after this chapter. Even so, I have managed to update this chapter in record time. *Yay me!* Enjoy!
Chapter 6: Inescapable
~SPN~
The brothers got to work tearing into every book and document having to do with angels off the shelves and stacked them by the table in the Map Room. Once they were sure they had gathered everything, they then spent the next three days combing through the pages with a fine-toothed comb.— Sifting through the Enochian lore, all the way through as much of their entire recorded history as they possessed.
"Well, I got diddly with a side of squat. Any of you found the magic cure yet?" Dean lifted the mug of hot coffee to his lips and took another swallow. The situation was hopeless, just as he said, but naturally, he wasn't the optimistic type anymore.
Sam and Bobby finished reading the last words of the upteenth book, and drew a blank in their minds. It appeared as though the information they were searching for was extremely well safeguarded from even the light of day itself. Their only hope was a child-like imaginary man that dressed like a third grader and ate junk food. Not much hope.
"It's unanimous," Bobby replied grudgingly, slamming the back-cover of A Photographed Collection of Monster Bites and Their Remedies, closed. The hunter was sure that he would find the antidote for a similar monster bite, but without knowing the size, shape, or any idea of what it even looked like, the book wasn't any use.
"Woa, you guys look terrible."
Dean jumped as Sully appeared next to him, also feeling an ache at the memory. "Why can't you guys ever use a door?" He grumbled, thankful that he had put his coffee down ahead of time.
"Because it's a waste of time," Sully said simply, his mouth pulled downward into a dreary frown. Dean was confused by it, used to his bubbly nature and up-beat personality that it was almost shocking to see Sully like he was now. Another ache wrenched at his heart.
Cas would've slanted his head lightly off to the side and stared at him with that special look of confusion that crinkled the skin around his eyes, then say, because it is not a productive use of my time, Dean.' Or some other geeky response ending in a whole bunch of technical phrases that he doesn't understand and has to ask about, before the entire purpose of the conversation is lost, and they end up dropping the whole thing. Crap, why was he taking a hike down memory road all of a sudden?
Dean eye-balled him. "Well, to answer your question, we've been up since Tuesday looking for a cure. You'd have the whole red-rimmed eye thing and pale complexion if you've been living off of coffee and toast for the last 32 hours."
"Fair enough." Sully put up his hands in a truce, which shut Dean up enough that he returned to his coffee. This dude was nothing like Cas.
Sam spoke up in a sincere and worried tone that had Dean once again remembering the bigger picture. Dean saw that his brothers eyes were on the verge of tears, which was about where Dean was right now. Just hang in there Sam. "Did you find anything, Sully?"
"Yes, but it's not the news you were hoping for," Sully replied, pacing around the room nervously.
Dean stiffened and spared a wayward glance to Sam that told him everything he was thinking. "What is it?" He bit out, halfway not even wanting to know if it concerned bad news. Although, if there was a chance that they could save their rebellious and hotheaded friend, then they needed to know everything that Sully bore.
Sully began, his voice tense. "I searched all of heaven looking for your angel, as well as Lucky."
"And?" And when I didn't find him, I asked one of the angels, and they said... they said he's been exiled.- the angel, I mean."
Sam didn't miss a beat. "Exiled? Exiled to where?"
"All they said, was a kind of inescapable prison," Sully replied. "They also said that there was a chance that Lucky had also been sucked in with him, as he had committed a grievous act of murder, along with their prisoner."
Dean let out a small breath of relief. It wasn't much to go on, but at least he now knew that there was a strong chance that Castiel, their rebel angel of the Lord, was alive.
Inescapable prison narrowed the list of places to search, down considerably. The most famous was Hell, the second was The Cage, and the third and final was Purgatory. As far as he knew, there weren't any more inescapable places anywhere on earth—but of course they could always be wrong. At least Cas appeared to be alive, for the moment anyway. Though things could always turn on a dim at any moment, he was still counting it a partial blessing. Dean cleared his throat.
"So, Hell. Cage. And Monster Smash-down. Let's get crackin."
The brothers gathered everything they needed for a summoning ritual and placed three candles on the points of the symbol. Dean took out his knife and cut his arm, watching as a few drops flowed freely into the bowl in the center.
Sam struck a match, sending a small shower of sparks to rain down to the floor as the head ignited. He tossed it into the bowl, causing it to burst into flames with a mixture of blue and gold sparks crackling out from it as it roared and rose into the air, then calmed to the tiny flame of a simple candle.
"I have an idea, let's play guess my motive." A smooth voice drawled infront of them.
The brothers directed their gazes over to the devil's trap to find Crowley dressed in his usual priestly suit; without the spirituality and white neckpiece involved, pressing his fingers into a pyramid position.
"You want something from me, and in return for giving you such priceless information I receive my freedom because you trust me as far as you can throw me wearing lead weights. He gestured to the red-painted devils trap surrounding him. "Or after I supposedly give you this information, you double cross me like you've done in the past and I get sent back into that prison room of yours." Crowley raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sam to get his interpretation of their plan by his expression. "What's my score?"
A slight smile ghosted over Dean's lips. "Then I suggest you comply, considering it is your only option. And keep in mind that we've had more than enough opportunities to exterminate you and the only reason you're still alive is because you've been useful. And the second that stops being true, Sam's gonna exorcise your ass and all your smugness is going to smoke out of your mouth and burn to the ground in one sizzling pile of ash."
Crowley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms impetuously. "You've always had a tendency to be over dramatic." The demon sighed, grudgingly accepting his role. "What can I do for you?"
"I want you to search Hell, the Cage, and Purgatory, for Cas," Dean answered swiftly.
Crowley smirked. "Of course, I should've guessed that your date running off would be warrant for all the attitude. Why don't you do what the rest of the world does and gorge yourself on chocolates and listen to corny music? There are plenty of other angel's in the sea." He looked up thoughtfully as if he was pondering something else to say. "Well, that's not technically true, considering the Icarus incident, but you get my point."
Dean's ire was rising with every word, his hands fisted by his side for fear that releasing them would give them free rain to strangle the bastard's neck. But doing so would be pointless, considering the bastard was the only one who could help them find Cas. The hunter took a deep and controlled breath. "Just search the damn, locations," he hissed. So much for controlled.
Crowley shrugged, and briefly closed his eyes, obviously mentally calculating the time it would take to complete such a task instead of dreading the search. When he opened his eyes again, he pointed at the devil's trap and cleared his throat.
Sam looked over to his brother for assurance, but he was seemingly caught in a battle with his conscience, which was understandable. They really had no way of protecting themselves or keeping Crowley to his promise when the devil's trap was broken.—Such was always the dilemma when dealing with the stinking, sulfur-smelling dickwads. Who was to say that Crowley would obey, instead of hurting them or disappearing?
Dean took a menacing step forward. "I'm gonna need more than that before I trust you."
"I told you to never trust anyone, including me. Crowley saw from their faces that he was moving backwards in progress. He spared another glance to the demon trap. "Look, I give you my word that i'll search the locations as soon as you release me and come straight back here."
"You just said not to trust anyone, and now..." Sam said partly, not needing to explain the rest.
Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Good, God. Trust me, don't trust me. I give you my word that I will only complete the task that is required of me by you. It's up to you to either believe it or not."
It had to be done. They couldn't afford to waste time, Crowley was their only means.
After receiving a small nod from Dean, Sam scrapped his foot over the edge of the symbol, creating a skinny white line that marred the symbol from containing the powerful demonic visage any longer.
Cold air swept over him, absorbing into even the marrow of his bones. The icy flooring had already lowered his body temperature to sub zero degrees, as he suspected from the anemic paleness of his skin and the pins and needles stabbing into him with each movement. Castiel shivered violently, his thin trenchcoat provided little protection against the fridged air that from slowley freezing his body. The angel knew that he wouldn't last long in this state, but if he remained stationary, he would surely die of hypothermia.
Sam and Dean would never approve of him giving up, and he could hear their motivational speeches playing in his head, telling him to push through the pain and cold and find a way out. But it was getting harder and harder to stay awake, harder and harder to want to listen to the same words that were spoon-fed into him from day one. The wonderful relief of what unconsiousness would bring, was quickly dimming his fighting spirit.
The angel laid down and let his eyelids close for just a moment of rest from the straining heaviness. Perhapse he should just accept his fate willingly? After all, he wasn't exactly an angel anymore was he? Even if he managed to escape, Castiel was still doomed to die from a simple bite that would destroy him eventually. "All our lives, we've had to fight. Sure, there were some days when we got tired of it, but it got easier when we realized one thing: The people. The innocent lives that would be lost if we just gave up and decided to live a normal life. Me and Sam, we love you like hell and it would really break us if you suddenly just gave up and willingly died. Promise me that you will never willing choose to die, and that you will fight with everything ya got when the time comes?"
A single tear streaked down his cheek. Those were the words Dean had spoken after Lucifer was extracted from Castiel's grace. But even though they all made an impact on him, there was one word in particular that stood out above all the rest. 'Promise.' He had promised Dean that he would fight, and all that he's doing now is wishing and trying to die sooner. What was he thinking of breaking a promise to the Righteous Man?
With renewed fight, Castiel pushed up on his arms and struggled mightily to get to his feet. But the effort was in vain as inevitably fall back down to his knees again. Something was weakening him, turning his body almost human. He roved a stormy gaze over his body before finding silver manacles latched on his wrists. Castiel sighed wearily. That was the reason he wasn't automatically chained to the wall, and why he was so cold and felt so mortal. His grace was now bound from the power of cuffs, reducing him to a mere mortal, again.
The angel remembered the words of Metatron, as he was giving dictation from their father's edict. Such was the punishment for betraying the almighty God, that the traitor be bound and thrown into the darkest abyss from which never shall he return, and left there for the ravages of time to devour his essence until only the skeleton of his vessel remained.
Castiel spared another angry glare to the manacles as if by look alone they would disintegrate. But as he suspected, it did nothing to them. He should have heeded the Winchester's warning. As usual, he thought he was doing the right thing- which couldn't have been farther off the mark. He was heaven's most hated, as he now remembered hearing Jophiel say so venomously, from the confines of Lucifer's mind. Nothing was going to change that. Now, he was sentenced to the most painful death that could befall an angel: Grace Extinction.
As another shiver violently racked his body, Cas folded his arms to try and preserve what little heat that he had left, but it came at a price as his wrists started to ache from the pressure being put on them. Maybe he could never escape even with a willing heart, maybe the wound on his chest would kill him sooner than his punishment would? It was a creature of dark magic that bit him after all. That form of magic had proven to be deadly to angels unless they possessed the purest grace. His fate was surely sealed.
But be that as it may, he was still a warrior. And he had made Dean a promise which he would die trying to keep.
The angel blew life into his hands, the warmth of his breath serving to melt some of the frost away, and bring back enough feeling to put pressure on them. Pitch blackness shrouded his senses, confusing his soul as to if he was even alive as he crawled on his hands and knees. But after a time of wandering around like a blind man who lost his glasses, his hand touched something hard and tangible; like a table of some sort. Cas needed to get a closer look.
Using all his strength, Castiel pulled himself up by his arms, using the table for balance, his feet falling flat and his legs weakly shaking from the strain. The angel wheezed and fell against the object, throat burning as he tried to get air into his oxygen-starved lungs. There had to be a ceiling pipe or window he could break. It was rare that he was ever left in a place without a way to see out; as it was a tactic of his fallen brothers to make his wings twitch with anticipation as he stared out at the random birds that would fly overhead.
Standing on the the tips of his toes, Castiel begin walking forward, his hands sliding along the ceiling for balance as he felt for a latch or pipe of some sort. To his surprise, his hand brushed up against what felt like a metal handle about half way from where he started. Digging deep within himself for even more strength, he pulled down on the latch, gritting his teeth as shooting pain raced up his arms.
Some of the sediment gave away and crumbled to the floor, and the hatch squeaked open.
The angel's eyes no longer reflected his dark quarters, but the millions of stars which peppered the night sky, along with clusters of galaxies interweaved into the fabric of the universe, looking down at him from the 3 ft. diameter hole. His father's creations were truly breathtaking, and like humans, it also gave him a sense of perspective of how small he really was compared to the glowing masses. But as his haze began to clear, he noticed a strange black cylinder pulsing and roaring like a tornado as it spun 360 degrees around him. He was in the eye of something, but what?
The angel remembered the sentence: Bound and thrown into the darkest abyss from which never shall he return. Castiel sank to his knees, a heavy grief weighing on his heart. He was inside a Black Hole. Escape had now been proven to be impossible. Black holes had such a strong gravitational pull, not even light could escape it. Because of this, they were one of heaven's many prisons to imprison the abominations that directly and knowingly defied his father's will by committing the most gruesome acts of evil and defilement.
A Black Hole? Poor Castiel :( What do you think will happen to our dear, sweet angel?