An emotional involvement can only lead to getting involved... emotionally.
- J. Pierpont Finch, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying
The days following were a hundred times more tense and awkward than when Kate first came to the Two Rivers Hotel. Kate visited Metatron's rooms only once a day now, to check in on angel radio and to see if he'd heard anything from Gabriel or Castiel. The first day Metatron attempted to talk to Kate, but she shut him down so thoroughly that for the next two days he merely answered her questions in short, sullen sentences.
The fourth day, he had news.
"It's happening today," he reported, even before Kate could ask, eyes distant in the way he got when he was still half-tuned to angel radio. "Raphael is calling together the angels. When they meet, he'll ask Castiel to swear his allegiance before them."
"And he won't," Kate finished. Metatron hummed in agreement. "Well, Gabriel is looking out for him. Between the two of them he should be able to get out of the conversation alive."
"Right. Gabriel will take care of everything."
Kate chose to ignore the bitter, confrontational tone. "We should get the warehouse ready. Have a warded place for them to come back to. Castiel will probably be injured."
Metatron stared for a moment, then stood, holding out a hand uncertainly. The expression, and the gesture, twisted something in Kate's gut. "I think I'll just drive."
Metatron's hand fell. He glanced away, jaw tight. "Right. I'll just… meet you there, then."
Kate took her time on the road. Before, the sight of the Colorado mountains had always given her a deep sense of peace. But not now. Now, she wondered when, precisely, she'd begun to consider this place home. And where she could call home now, caught as she was between worlds.
It was just as well, really. Even if there had been no way back to her own world, there would have been no reason to stay with Metatron after the civil war in Heaven had been resolved. But for a time, on peaceful days in the hotel, watching movies and ridiculing bad writing, she had felt like she could have stayed longer.
Kate cranked the radio up as loud as she could stand it for the rest of the drive to drown out those thoughts.
The wards were already set up when Kate arrived. Metatron had brought his chair from his rooms, and was sat curled up with a book when Kate entered the room. He'd brought Kate's chair, too, but she ignored it in favor of pacing. She didn't know how long she paced, but she had yet to fully work off the nervous energy before there was a loud flutter of wings and the stumbling of feet behind her.
Kate whipped around. Gabriel was gently lowering Castiel into her abandoned armchair. She rushed over to see the state of Castiel, and winced in sympathy at the amount of blood and bruises he'd managed to acquire. Almost absentmindedly, she sent out a prayer to Balthazar, letting him know where they were, and that Castiel was safe, but hurt.
"Castiel!" Metatron greeted cheerily, ignoring the tension in the room. He closed his book and it vanished, presumably to the top of one of the towering stacks in his rooms. "So. How'd the talk with Raphael go?"
Castiel glared at Metatron, but the effect was diminished a bit, as his left eye was nearly swollen shut. Balthazar appeared as Gabriel pressed a hand to Castiel's forehead. As his cuts began to mend and bruises began to fade, Balthazar demanded, "What happened?"
"Thank you," Castiel nodded to Gabriel, only a little grudging, then turned to answer Balthazar. "Raphael. He was… not as reasonable as I'd hoped."
Kate scoffed a little at the understatement, earning herself a sharp look from Castiel. "He really does want to restart the apocalypse, then?" Balthazar asked nervously.
"Yes, he does," Castiel said grimly. "And he intends to slaughter any angel who opposes him in that goal."
"He nearly killed Cassie," Gabriel added, frowning as he straightened, having healed Castiel's vessel completely. "Would have, if I hadn't stepped in. I was hoping not to have to reveal myself to Raphael just yet, but…" He shrugged, as if it didn't matter, but the line of his shoulders was tense.
"But now, not only does Raphael know Castiel is going to oppose him, he also knows you're involved," Kate said, grimacing. That was not good. She had ideas on how to help this rag-tag team, but she couldn't predict how Raphael might change his strategy now that he knew he'd be fighting another archangel. Would he seek out other weapons? Would he beat them to finding the weapons they needed? "That is… not ideal."
"Not ideal," Balthazar repeated, disbelieving. "Bit of an understatement, there. Castiel. How bad is this?"
Castiel shook his head. "I don't know how many of the angels are loyal to Raphael. How many will fight." Castiel stood, a little unsteadily. "I have to go back. All who oppose Raphael are in danger."
"Yeah, including you," Gabriel snorted, pushing Castiel back down. "I just pulled your ass out of the frying pan, no way am I letting you jump into the fire."
"Our brothers and sisters will die," Castiel insisted.
"If they have any sense at all, the ones who oppose Raphael will run," Balthazar placated. "They know you fought the apocalypse, and Raphael will make it clear you're public enemy number one. The ones who support us will seek you out."
Castiel looked marginally reassured by Balthazar's words, though he still looked worried. He cast a speculative glance at Kate and Metatron. "How many angels will side with Raphael? With us?"
Kate grimaced and shrugged. "I don't know."
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Don't know, or won't say?"
"I don't know," Kate repeated, insistent. "Look, everything I've seen about the possible future was from the point of view of the Winchesters, and you didn't exactly spend much time dropping into their motel room to talk numbers and strategies. I only know the really big stuff."
Castiel leveled an unamused look at Kate which told her he thought the numbers in each faction's ranks was very much 'really big stuff'. "Like what?"
"Like the fact that, without Gabriel and Balthazar, you would have tried to lead the angels on your own, been hopelessly outclassed, and teamed up with Crowley to open the door to Purgatory so you could get a power-up from all the souls it contains, swallowing up more power than your vessel could handle and inadvertently unleashing Leviathans on the Earth," Kate bit back.
Castiel's eyes were wide at the end, but narrowed. "I would never work with Crowley."
Kate scoffed. "You have no idea what you're capable of if you're really pushed, Castiel. And I really hope we never have to find out precisely how far you'll go."
"And how can we trust anything you say?" Castiel growled viciously. "When you let the apocalypse happen?"
"The apocalypse didn't happen!" Kate protested.
"Yes, no thanks to you!"
The conversation descended into bickering after that. Gabriel and Metatron attempted to reason with Castiel, Castiel refused to trust a word of the so-called future according to Kate, and Balthazar looked completely unsure, his loyalty to Castiel caught between his common sense and sense of self-preservation.
Kate tuned them out, pressing a hand to her forehead and trying to think of some way to resolve this stupid fighting. They didn't have time to do trust falls and braid each other's hair. Every moment spent attacking each other was a lost moment of preparation. Raphael would be gathering his forces and amassing weapons while they bickered amongst themselves. He could have already restarted the apocalypse by the time Castiel was ready to play nice with the rest of the team.
Kate racked her brain for some solution. This wasn't like the Avengers—they didn't have an expendable side character's death to inspire all the superheroes on the team to band together against the common enemy. She needed a shortcut. Something, anything, that would make Castiel believe they were telling the truth.
Telling the truth.
Something about that thought niggled at Kate, and she repeated it under her breath, scanning her now-impeccable memory for the source of the chord she'd struck. It was familiar, it was from this universe, it was…
"The Horn of Gabriel!" Kate shouted over the din. The angels paused in their bickering at the sudden exclamation. Gabriel cocked an eyebrow.
"Excuse you?"
"The Horn of Gabriel," she repeated, heart beating quickly in excitement. "Isn't one of its uses to make people tell the truth?"
"Shouldn't you know?" Balthazar snarked.
Kate shrugged. "I've never actually seen that aspect of it in action." She turned to Gabriel hopefully. "So, does it?"
Gabriel grinned a little. "Just so we're clear, you are asking me to toot my own horn."
Kate sighed, exasperated. "Why did I save you? You are the worst. Is that a yes?"
"You love me." Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at her and winked. "Anywho, yes, it does. Never took it for a spin, myself, but yes. Power it up and everyone tells the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but."
Kate spun to Castiel and Balthazar. "Will that satisfy you? We use the Horn of Gabriel. You can ask anything. I'll answer truthfully."
Castiel looked like he was seriously considering it. Balthazar raised any eyebrow. "Anything?"
"Anything," Kate confirmed. If they asked uncomfortable questions, they'd have to be prepared for uncomfortable answers. Not her problem.
Finally, Castiel nodded. Kate sighed in relief.
Gabriel tapped a finger against his mouth thoughtfully. "You know, come to think of it, that old thing could solve our other problem, too."
"What other problem?" asked Castiel.
"Bringing the angels together," Gabriel said, spreading his hands wide and then bringing them together, interlacing his fingers with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, the horn's a lie detector, but its primary purpose? It's a rallying cry. Get the tune just right, and we can call all our allies together. No angel radio required, no tipping off my big bro."
"Where is this horn?" Castiel suddenly looked worried. "If it's in Heaven—"
"Nope!" Gabriel tapped the side of his own forehead. "It's right here." Then, at Castiel's blank look, "In my mind? It's a spell, genius, not a physical object."
"Then we could use it now," Castiel said, eyes lighting up.
"Ah, no," Gabriel corrected. "I need a bit of time to play with it first. Like I said, I've never used it before. Don't want to accidentally call all the angels down on us, do I?"
"Time is of the essence, Gabriel."
"I'm aware," Gabriel said, dryly. "Give me a day, alright? Can you give me a day?" Reluctantly, Castiel nodded. Gabriel smiled and clapped his hands. "Okay, team! Good talk! See you tomorrow!"
Metatron caught Gabriel's eye before he could fly away, and the archangel joined him in the abandoned armchairs for a conversation that seemed to involve a lot of expressive gesturing. Castiel stood awkwardly staring after them, seeming uncertain whether he should follow or leave. Kate waved him down, and he reluctantly approached her.
When he was close, she asked quietly, "You already pulled Sam out from Hell?"
Castiel's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You know about that?"
Kate ignored the question. "His soul is missing."
Castiel's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about—"
"When you pulled Sam from the pit, you left his soul behind. Sam's soul is still in the cage, and meanwhile he's running around Earth all soulless and dangerous," Kate held up a hand to stem any questions or protests from Castiel, distinctly not in the mood to deal with him or anyone else. "Death is one of the few things that has the power to pull Sam's soul out of Hell. Tell Dean to summon Death and work out a deal."
Castiel frowned. "Dean is living a normal life with a human woman and her son. Sam doesn't wish to interfere—"
"First of all," Kate interrupted, "I don't recommend you give too much credence to what Sam wants while he doesn't have a soul. Second, Dean would kill you if he had a chance to save his brother and you withheld the information so he could live some apple pie life. And third, the longer you wait, the more Lucifer and Michael torture Sam's soul, until he's broken, flayed, and insane." Kate heaved a sigh. "That's all. If you need, I can repeat this all 'under oath' once Gabriel has his horn working, but I wanted to tell you now. I know time passes differently in Hell, so every day Sam's soul is still in the cage is weeks to him…" Kate trailed off, then shook her head. "Whatever. I've told you what to do to help him. If you don't follow my advice, then Sam's torture's on you. Don't say I didn't tell you so."
Castiel looked a little thrown off the the overt hostility Kate was radiating, and Kate almost felt bad. It wasn't really his fault. She was just irritated by the useless bickering and his lack of belief in her word, on top of the simmering anger and hurt resulting from Metatrons lies.
"Fucking angels," she muttered, kicking open the door to the the warehouse and storming her way to the borrowed car. She was getting take-out on the way back. And rum. And maybe a pack of cigarettes.
Why not go all out? These idiots were all going to be the death of her anyway.
Gabriel had been discussing what the angel tablet had said about the precise workings of the horn of Gabriel with Metatron when Kate finished her conversation with Castiel and stalked out in a flurry of muttered curses. He whistled at some of the vocabulary, then turned to Metatron with a raised eyebrow. "What's got her so pissed? And not just at Castiel, either." Gabriel squinted at the discomfited, vaguely guilty expression on Metatron's face. "What'd you do, walk in on her naked?"
Metatron's jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke. "I could have sent her home when she first came to me. Over a year ago, now. She just found out." He cast a dirty look in the direction Balthazar had been standing. He and Castiel had finally disappeared, it seemed.
Gabriel's brows shot up. "Oh. So you lied to her face," he summarized bluntly, then squinted at Metatron's sour look. "Can I ask why? Balthazar's right—well, almost right. She's useful to have around, but we don't need her. Not if you know everything she does."
Metatron glanced away, folding his arms defensively. Gabriel just watched him, patient, until Metatron sighed with a heave of his shoulders. "At first? Because she was interesting." Metatron looked back at Gabriel and shrugged again, but his expression was almost hopeful. Like Gabriel would tell him he'd done the right thing, if he only explained himself properly. "She gave me a call to adventure, and I needed her to complete the quest. But then, even after I had all the information, when I could have sent her home... I didn't. I couldn't."
Metatron looked genuinely puzzled at the end of his little speech. Gabriel couldn't help it.
He laughed.
Metatron glared at Gabriel's mirth, and tried to shrug him off when Gabriel's laughter subsided into quiet chuckles and the archangel looped a careless arm around the scribe's shoulder. "Ha!... Oh, brother," Gabriel wiped a tear from his eyes, still grinning. "You've got it bad!"
Metatron gave up trying to dislodge Gabriel's arm so he could stare. "Excuse me?"
"Don't be stupid," Gabriel scolded, rapping one hand gently on Metatron's skull. "You're in love with her. Like, stupid in love with her. Oh, this is priceless."
"I'm not—" Metatron protested, but words wouldn't come. Gabriel's eyes sparkled, and his grin just kept getting wider. It was part joy, part schadenfreude. Okay, mostly schadenfreude.
"Oh, yeah you are. Come on, think. At least a few dozen of those books you buried yourself in had to be love stories, right?"
"No," Metatron denied immediately. "She's human. She's chaos. She's—"
"Your favorite person in the whole wide world?"
"I am not in love with her!" Metatron's voice rose to nearly a shout, and Gabriel backed off, raising his hands defensively.
"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll believe you…" Gabriel paused, then cocked an eyebrow. "If you can come up with one good reason she's still in this universe."
Metatron's jaw worked silently, but no words came. Gabriel snorted. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
This was absurd. Really, truly absurd. Gabriel didn't know what he was talking about.
Except…
I'll believe you, he'd said, if you can come up with one good reason she's still in this universe.
And Metatron tried. He came up with dozens of reasons, even. He was reasonably clever, and more well-read than perhaps anyone else in existence. He had no trouble fabricating reason after reason that Kate was still in this universe. Some of them even sounded convincing.
But none of them quite felt true.
When had this happened? And how hadn't Metatron noticed?
It was like his wayward affection had grown, slowly, stealthily. Like the growth of a tree, which changed so little from day to day, but whose little changes built up until one day a sapling was a towering oak. Kate's favor and still-unbelievable trust in him had planted the seed, and it had blossomed without his notice, or his permission. He hadn't noticed it as it grew, but now that Gabriel had pointed it out to him, Metatron found the feeling was rooted deep.
It wasn't a weed he could pull out. It was part of him.
And why? Because a marginally attractive woman had deigned to spend so much time with him? Because he'd spent so long among humans that their notions of romantic love and partnership had rubbed off on him?
But no. That didn't give Kate, or himself, enough credit.
It didn't matter that Kate's ruffled curls softened the hard angles of her face. It didn't matter that she got small wrinkles around her eyes and her lips quirked up only on one side when she was poking fun at Metatron, but always in good humor. It didn't matter that he admired the pale jut of her wrists, even as his eyes lingered and he wondered whether she'd forgotten to eat again.
It wasn't about her looks. It was about the way she looked at him.
Because this woman was the only one, the only one, who'd ever looked at Metatron and found something valuable. Because she appreciated what he did, and who he was, even when that person was callous and uncaring and cowardly and cruel. Because she cast him disapproving looks and rolled her eyes at him, but always with such fondness that he never felt insult. Because she tore down the mistakes he might have made, but still stubbornly believed in the person he could become, if he cared to try.
And Gabriel was right. He was in love with her. Stupid in love with her, as the archangel had insensitively put it.
And suddenly Metatron knew that no matter how long it took for her to forgive him, how many times Metatron might have to apologize, he'd have to convince her to let him love her. Not because he needed her—though he did, desperately—but because Kate deserved to be loved, deeply and wholly and without reserve, and no one else could ever love her as much as he did.
When Kate arrived in Metatron's rooms the next morning to ask about when they'd be meeting the other angels at the warehouse, Metatron jumped and dropped his book. Kate had stared at the fallen volume, puzzled. Metatron looked from the book, to Kate, and back, finally fixing the novel with a betrayed look.
That was… odd.
"So, same time as yesterday?" Kate asked, when it seemed Metatron had gotten lost in thought staring at his rebellious copy of Much Ado About Nothing.
Metatron jolted and scooped the book up, shoving it on his side table with such force that a few other books toppled off. Kate stared, but Metatron resolutely ignored the fallen volumes, not looking at Kate as he responded quickly, "Yes. Same time."
"O...kay." Kate hovered uncertainly in the doorway. "Anything else I should know?"
For the briefest second, Metatron looked panicked. Then he schooled his expression and shook his head emphatically. "No! Nothing else."
Kate frowned at him thoughtfully. She suspected that wasn't the truth, but at the same time, Metatron wasn't usually so transparently bad at lying.
But Kate wasn't interested in prying. With any luck, this whole heavenly war situation would be resolved soon, and she would go home. And that would be lucky, she told herself sternly, even if the aching pit in her gut said otherwise.
That afternoon when Kate arrived at the warehouse, the angels were already gathered, and a sigil was glowing golden on the wall.
"My lady." Gabriel gestured grandly to a waiting armchair, and Kate sat in their small circle with a roll of her eyes at his theatricality. "A few questions first, just to make sure my horn's working its magic." Gabriel paused to waggle his eyebrows, earning exasperated sighs from Metatron and Balthazar. Castiel looked vaguely confused.
"What—" Gabriel paused dramatically, "is your name?"
"Katherine Ann Fitzgerald."
"What—" Another dramatic pause. "Is your quest?"
Kate was sorely tempted to say that she sought the Holy Grail, but instead said, "To end the civil war in Heaven with minimal casualties."
"What… is your favorite color?"
"Blue," Kate said, but only because an very strong, sigil-induced urge compelled her to. "Can we save the Monty Python nods until we're not at war, please?"
A line formed between Castiel's eyebrows. "If we are truly testing the sigil, then surely we should ask her a question she would not wish to answer, or that she would be inclined to lie to."
Metatron snorted softly. "Good luck with that. I've begun to suspect she's incapable of lying. If an axe murderer came to the door asking where the children were hiding, she'd tell him, and then lecture him on his moral failings."
"I don't recall anyone asking for your input," Kate said coldly.
"How'd you lose your virginity?" Balthazar asked, sounding bored and uninterested in the answer.
Kate pondered for a moment, then decided on, "Enthusiastically."
She was pleased at the boundaries she was discovering with the sigil. She was compelled to tell the truth, yes, but that was never an issue for her anyway. How much of the truth she told seemed to depend on her discretion, the phrasing of the question, and, she suspected, the genuine interest of the person asking the question. To Kate's satisfaction, her short answer seemed to surprise a small huff of laughter from the angel.
"How many men have you had sex with?" He asked then, Kate assumed in an attempt to make her uncomfortable. Unashamed, Kate held up five fingers. "Women?" She dropped three of her fingers. Balthazar sat back with a shrug. "Well, I'm out of ideas."
Castiel was not, nor was he amused by the line of questioning. He leaned forward, eyes hard. "What is the one thing you've done that are most ashamed of?"
It was not something Kate needed to think about for long. "I once broke the heart of a man who still had his own teeth lodged in his throat." Kate said it boldly, frankly, daring any of them to question her further. Metatron, of course, knew the story already, from her drunken confession on her birthday, but the others did not. An awkward silence fell.
Finally Gabriel cleared his throat. "I think that does it. Everybody's telling the truth now—" Kate cut a skeptical look at Metatron, but said nothing, "—so let's get story time over with, shall we?"
"Are you really from an alternate universe?" Castiel asked immediately.
"Yes," Kate said simply.
"Have you really seen what happens in the future of this world?"
Kate tilted her head uncertainly for a moment. She guessed Castiel considered this a yes or no question, but it was a touch more complicated than that. "I have seen one version of possible events for this universe that I strongly believe would play out as I have seen them without my interference," she said finally.
"How did you see these events?"
"This is a television show where I come from." Balthazar's eyebrows quirked up at that. To Metatron and Gabriel this information was not news.
"How did you come to be here?"
Kate pursed her lips. "I fell through what was advertised as a perfectly normal mirror."
"Why did you call out to Metatron when you arrived here?"
Kate rolled her shoulders, frowning. "He seemed the most trustworthy at the time I arrived." Something, probably the sigil, pushed her to say, "You and Balthazar were both still in the garrison, following orders essentially without question, and for a while Gabriel was pretty pro-apocalypse. I figured it was too dangerous to just hand the information to an archangel and hope he did the right thing. Metatron was comparatively less dangerous. Hanging around the Winchesters would have been too risky. I could have altered the timeline, or gotten killed, or both."
"Why didn't you try to stop the apocalypse?" This was clearly the question Castiel most wanted to ask, his eyes still burning with barely-leashed anger at her inaction.
"I honestly believe that the Winchesters are the only ones who could have," Kate said, though she hadn't quite known she believed that until it was out of her mouth. "I was also too afraid that my interfering in any way could have changed the outcome of events in a negative way."
Castiel sat back a little, anger slightly cooled at the response. "What have you changed?"
Kate felt a little nauseous at the question and had to cradle her head for a moment. Castiel shot an uncertain glance at Gabriel and Metatron. "She's not trying to lie," Gabriel said, reading the question on Castiel's face. "Broad questions like that can be a little overwhelming under the influence of the Horn."
Kate nodded, breathing in through her nose slowly. "What I've changed, in total, is probably unknowable. What I have changed on purpose, from what I know of how events were going to play out: Gabriel was supposed to be killed by Lucifer, as were a bunch of pagan gods. I assume those gods are still alive?" Kate glanced at Gabriel, who nodded, looking a little smug.
"I also requested that he save Ellen and Jo Harvelle in that mad bid to shoot Lucifer with the colt." Castiel looked ready to interrupt, but Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, for which Kate was grateful. She wasn't finished, and she thought she might throw up if Castiel asked another question before she finished answering this one.
"They were going to die, as well. After that, I changed nothing until calling this meeting with you. From here on I intend to change countless more things, because the original chain of events tied to the civil war in heaven caused a sort of domino effect of other awful things. And I told you about Sam's soul, so I assume he should be getting it back much sooner and in much better condition than he otherwise would have."
That level of detail seemed to satisfy the sigil, and Kate sighed in relief.
"Why didn't you tell us the colt wouldn't work to kill the devil?" Castiel demanded when she finished.
"I didn't think you'd believe me." Castiel sat back in his chair, looking tired. "Are we done? Have I sufficiently proven myself?" Castiel nodded.
"Excellent," Kate brought her feet up into the armchair to curl up in her preferred position. Metatron stared at her openly for a moment, as if he'd seen a ghost. Kate chose to ignore the expression, and when she started speaking again he shook his head, looking distinctly off-balance. "Now, I'm of basically no use when it comes to angel warfare or strategy, but there are weapons and tools I know of that you can use.
"The first and most obvious are the weapons Balthazar stole when he faked his death." Kate paused as Castiel and Gabriel both turned to Balthazar with raised eyebrows, looking disbelieving and impressed in turn. "Seriously? How has that not come up?"
Gabriel shrugged. "He was more interested in bragging about his menage-a-douze."
"Charming," Kate said dryly, glad the Horn of Gabriel didn't impede sarcasm. "I know about the Staff of Moses, Lot's Salt, and a blade that's capable of killing a Fate, but I assume that's not all. None of those are particularly useful against angels, especially when they're not inhabiting vessels, so I'm hoping that's not all."
"There are others," Balthazar confirmed. "I'll have to rummage through them and see what could be useful. Solomon's ring comes to mind… Maybe something from the Tower of Babel."
God, it was weird that this was all real. Kate had been staunchly atheist in her own world, and while she could handle dealing with angels—who were not unlike bizarre, superpowered aliens—it was still odd to think of stories from the Bible, especially things like the Tower of Babel, as having any real, literal historical merit.
"Please do," she said, setting aside her unease. "The demon Crowley currently has the Lance of Michael, but unless one of you knows more about it, I don't think it's worth going after. For most angels it would just be a slow, agonizing death." Gabriel shook his head, agreeing that the lance wasn't valuable, and she nodded.
"There's the pagan gods, but I assume they won't help unless the fighting comes to Earth?"
"They couldn't get into Heaven anyway, even if they wanted to," Gabriel said.
"Right. Best for last, then. The angel tablet. It's in one of Lucifer's crypts, somewhere in what is now Lincoln Springs, Missouri." Kate closed her eyes, racking her memory for the very specific location details. "Where Downey meets Bond Street. Basement of an abandoned warehouse. That's convenient."
She opened her eyes to three puzzled looks. "How on Earth does your puny little human brain remember all that?" Balthazar asked skeptically.
"How many times did you watch this show?" Gabriel asked, looking almost worried for her.
"Metatron cast a mind-sharpening spell on me, and two-ish," Kate said. "I watched some of my favorite episodes more than others." Gabriel looked intrigued by that, and Kate spoke before he could ask another question. "Anyway, angel tablet. We should get it. I don't think Raphael or Naomi will be looking for it yet, but I don't know for sure that they won't either."
"Naomi?" Castiel frowned, furrowing his brow. "That name…"
Kate winced. "Uh, yeah. I don't know how widespread this is, but when an angel disobeys or questions orders, it's Naomi they're sent to—to have their memories wiped and to have their orders drilled into their skull. In some cases, I suspect literally."
All the angels but Metatron looked vaguely sick. Metatron simply looked angry at the reminder, probably because angels like her were the precise reason he had been driven from Heaven in the first place.
Castiel looked uncertain. "Has she—?"
The Horn didn't seem to care about unvoiced, implied questions, but Kate answered anyway. "On you? Yes. Though I don't know how many times, or for what. I don't know about Balthazar of anyone else. Metatron and Gabriel are fine, because they skipped out ages ago."
Castiel's eyes were dark and full of doubt, clearly searching through his memories and wondering if they were real. Kate cleared her throat. "The angel tablet, in addition to being a huge power boost to whoever holds it, has the added bonus of being able to disrupt Naomi's mind control. I don't know if there's a way to boost that signal, but if there was, I'm guessing Raphael's support and numbers would be a lot weaker than they look right now."
Metatron folded his hands and put them to his lips, looking thoughtful. Kate guessed he was going over the tablet in his mind, thinking on whether such a 'signal boost' was possible.
Castiel stood suddenly. "I will retrieve it immediately."
"Woah, hang on!" Kate caught the edge of his coat sleeve in her fingers before he could fly away. The look he gave her was, she thought, meant to be intimidating. In reality, he looked simply fragile. "I've got to come with you. It's in a box that's warded against angels." Kate then looked skeptically at her own hand, thin and frail and with a very low success rate at opening jars, let alone ancient, warded stone boxes with the word of God inside. "And I'll probably need a crowbar."
Castiel nodded and tugged his coat sleeve out of her grip. "I will return with a crowbar, and we will retrieve it." He vanished with a flutter of wings, and Kate returned her hand to her lap.
"Is that safe?" Metatron asked. "Going into the crypt?"
Kate considered it. "I don't think it's particularly unsafe," she hedged. "I didn't see any guards or traps or anything, at least."
Metatron didn't look entirely reassured. A week ago, Kate would have found the concern heart-warming, but now it grated on her nerves. Partly because it was true, and partly because the mention of 'God's favorite angel' would irk Metatron, Kate added, "Besides, I'm confident that Castiel will protect me from coming to any harm."
Kate was pleased to see Metatron's jaw tighten in irritation. Balthazar, however, frowned. "How long does it take to fetch a crowbar, anyway?"
They all glanced around. That was a good point. Surely it shouldn't take Castiel more than a few seconds to locate a crowbar and return with it? Kate wondered, with a jolt of panic, if he'd been found and intercepted in the short time he'd been outside the warded warehouse—
But she needn't have worried. Castiel reappeared, crowbar in hand, and cast a look at Kate. "Are you ready?" Kate nodded and stood. Castiel reached out and lightly took hold of her shirtsleeve. In the next moment, they were gone from the warded warehouse and in front of another abandoned one.
"This is it, correct?"
Kate glanced around and nodded. "This is it. Should be in the basement." Castiel nodded gravely and led the way into the warehouse. His posture was tense, his steps efficient. Kate watched him move, suddenly keenly aware that this being was a soldier. She wondered briefly how many angels Castiel had killed. How many humans, for that matter.
Castiel forced open the door to the basement and strode fearlessly down the stairs, into the darkness. Kate followed much more slowly, taking her time on the stairs as her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light.
"Where is the crypt?" Castiel's voice sounded from the darkness when Kate stepped off the last step and onto the basement floor. Kate swiped her hand cautiously along the wall, hoping to find a light switch.
"It's behind a wall," Kate said, grimacing as dust coated her fingers. "You'll be able to feel a draft when you get close."
Quick, efficient footsteps crossed the room. There was a loud 'snick' and a few older lamps flickered half-heartedly to life. The basement was still dim, but Kate could at least see. Castiel nodded at her and began to walk the perimeter of the wall. He was working his way from the right, counterclockwise, so Kate followed the wall to the left, trailing her hand along the wall and walking slowly so she wouldn't miss the slight draft if she passed it.
Castiel found the right wall in short order and forced his way through. Katel coughed as she followed him through the hole, waving a hand to try to dispel the dust. When Castiel halted, Kate nearly ran into him. He pointed.
"There. It's the only thing in here warded against angels."
The box was heavy stone, sitting on a small altar. Kate accepted the crowbar and got to work levering the heavy stone lid off the thing.
"I owe you my thanks," Castiel said abruptly. Kate swallowed a curse as her concentration slipped and the crowbar skidded down the side of the stone box. She shot the angel a curious look as she wedged the thing back under the box's lid. "You were right. About Sam. He owes you his sanity." Looking pained, he added, "And it seems that I owe you my life."
"No, you don't," Kate breathed, levering the crowbar and sighing with relief as the stone lid slid away from the box.
Castiel furrowed his brows at her. "But I do. If what you say is true—"
Kate shook her head and scooped the angel tablet out of the box. "Look, Cas, we're on the same team. Teammates don't keep score. They just have each other's backs."
Kate extended the angel tablet to Castiel. He reached out to take it, hesitantly, reverently. His eyes went a little misty as his fingers brushed it, and then hardened when he took it fully from Kate's hands.
"Thank you, Kate."
Outtake: How long does it take to fetch a crowbar?
"—Is that Cas?" Dean hastily left the hotel room, furrowing his brow at the angel, who was staring, dismayed, at the Impala.
"Your trunk is warded," Castiel said, looking put out.
"Of course it's warded—hang on, why the hell are you trying to get into my baby's trunk?"
Castiel blinked. "I need to borrow a crowbar. I didn't think you would mind."
"What does an angel need a crowbar for?" Dean asked, growing more and more confused.
"It's not for me," Castiel said patiently. "It is for an ally of mine."
"A non-angel ally?" Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, a human," Castiel confirmed. "She needs to open a box which is warded against angels. She looks quite weak, and I assume the warded box will be quite heavy. Thus, the crowbar."
"Box, what box?" Dean waved a hand, wondering why every answer Cas gave was only giving him more questions. "And who's this chick you're working with? Why didn't you come to us?"
Castiel tilted his head. "I don't have time to answer all of your questions," Castiel said calmly. "This is angel business. I don't want to trouble you with it, considering your brother currently has no soul." Castiel paused, then shifted a little on his feet. "May I borrow the crowbar?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure, I guess." Dean fumbled in his pockets for his keys. "But Cas, you know if you ever need help, you can come to us, right? No matter what's going on." Dean popped open the trunk and sorted through his tools efficiently, withdrawing a crowbar and holding it out.
Castiel offered him a small smile. "I know, Dean." He took the crowbar. "Thank you for the crowbar. I will return it shortly." And then he was gone.
Dean stared at the spot the angel had just been and closed the trunk with a shake of his head. "What the hell just happened?"
