Chapter Seven – Safe & Sound
Meanwhile, Grace and Rowena approached the coven's meeting house, the dark-haired witch walking ahead of the redhead, "Just let me handle this. I've known most of these people longer than you've been around Sam and Dean. Or Crowley for that matter." She hadn't missed an opportunity to comment on Rowena's mothering, but she had yet to strike a nerve with it. It's hard to offend someone with something they already know.
"Are you implying that your wee friends migh' not trust me?"
Grace stopped short of the door and whipped around to face her companion, nearly making Rowena run into her, "I'm not implyin' anything. I'm flat-out tellin' you. I don't trust you."
The elder witch didn't pretend to be offended by this either; she couldn't care less about what anyone else thought of her, especially this little wisp of a girl, but that certainly wouldn't stop her from antagonizing Grace, "Watch your tone lass. Our feathered friend isn't here to-" the spell was out of Grace's mouth before Rowena could react, and she found herself getting dizzy and lightheaded like she had a bit too much whiskey.
Grace turned again, her eyes smoldering violet like a dying gas flame, "I don't need protecting from you. All I need is a little provocation, and I can take care of myself..." she hissed before releasing her from the hex. She was starting to wish she'd applied another silencing spell before they left. If it wasn't Rowena bumping her gums the whole trip, it was these weird little snippets of other voices suddenly flashing through her head. They had stopped before the girls reached their destination, but they still unsettled her. The voices had sounded garbled and muffled, but familiar still…she just couldn't make out who it was or what they were saying. She thought she heard her name a few times, but it wasn't clear enough to tell. She tried to ignore the instinct to text Cas and check up on them, even though it gnawed at her relentlessly.
They stepped through the door without further incident...more or less. The meeting with the covens went smoothly; spells and the overall situation were exchanged and explained in more detail than was conveyable through phones. One group had found binding runes strong enough to hold entire choirs of angels (they hadn't personally tested it of course, but it was written in the instructions) and another had figured out how to create holy fire without the mess of the rare oil. Some of the loners had procured angel blades and had melted them into a longer, more practical sword. No one wanted to question how they'd come by enough regular angel blades for this (standing on its tip, the sword came up to Graces shoulder and she had to hold it with both hands to lift it), nor who had found an archangel dagger which both Lucifer and Gabriel failed to mention was even missing (and Grace thought she was bad about forgetting things!), and no one volunteered the stories either. Those misadventures were a tale for another day...
The sword wasn't even the main plan; it was the backup in case the spells couldn't stop Michael. It would then be up to someone in the main war party to physically take him out...though who would wield "Morning Glory" as Grace dubbed it, had not been decided. They supposed it would be whoever got to it first in the midst of the fight, or whoever happened to be holding it if (when) their intended target broke loose. They decided to let the boys sort it out among themselves when they got back to the Bunker, as it wouldn't likely be either of them doing the blade swinging.
Grace dug her cellphone out of her cape's pocket to call the Winchesters and the angels and let them know their part was done, but Rowena grabbed her arm before she could hit 'dial'. Confused and startled by how cold her grip was, she jerked away at just the right angle to see why she wanted her attention. A black SUV was parked just out of the porchlight's reach, but its headlights still caught its reflection and gave it away. When the realization hit the two, they again latched onto each other and slipped into the bushes. Luckily for them, Ketch and Mick both turned their heads at the same time that they exited the front door.
"Is that the-?"
"Bloody Men of Letters." Rowena spat, "I knew those fools would show up eventually…"
"Well thanks for telling me!" Grace hissed back, "How did they find us?!"
"Probably tracking somebody else here, the nosy little bastards."
"We need to warn the others…" it was difficult to tell if the Letters were watching the house now, but it was a risk that had to be taken. The witches in the house could not be abandoned to these murderers, "If they come towards the house, stall them as long as you can…I'm going back inside." She crouched below the hedges and inched toward the side of the house.
"What about the sword? Y'gonna stab them with it?" Rowena jabbed her finger at the car just as they heard its front doors creak open and slam closed.
"I don't want to dull the blade on those two…and they shouldn't get that close to me." Grace snapped, and the sword was spirited into the trunk of her car, "If they do, I'll send them back your way." She stealthily crept around back and slipped in the unlocked door. She didn't bother sneaking around once she got in.
"Forget something?"
"Nope. We've got more company, the uninvited kind." She started gathering things into boxes and sending them to safety, out of Mick and Ketch's reach into the warded cellar, "Brace for impact. I don't expect Rowena can hold those two off, or that she will."
"Who?"
"British Men of Letters. They call themselves monster hunters, but they're really just a pack of-"
The door burst open, and Mick stepped inside, gun full of witch-killing bullets drawn and Ketch on his heels. Both were a little worse for wear – Rowena had tried at least- but were still standing and mildly perturbed about the situation.
"A pack of what?" Ketch sneered, his own weapon leveled at her.
"Lucifer, we need help. Now. Please." There was no response, which wasn't comforting regardless of her situation, "Castiel? Gabriel?" still nothing. They would have to handle this alone.
"What's the matter, familiar suddenly got your tongue, little witch?" his attention was so focused on her, and Mick's on the other witches across the room from him, that they didn't hear anyone come up behind them until the dead language had already filled Ketch's ears and he fell quicker than London Bridge.
"It's 'cat got your tongue', jackarse."
Grace wanted to bark, "Took you long enough!" at Rowena, but with Mick slinging bullets she didn't get the chance right away. Spells started flying like the lead from the gun, but the only thing anybody hit was the furniture and the books on the shelves. Ketch got hit once or twice, but in his current state he didn't really notice (he would definitely feel it the next day, however).
It took several stunning spells to finally knock Mick off his feet, but only a direct hit from both Rowena and Grace to really knock his lights out.
"Should we…?" an ominous look passed around the room, but no one wanted that blood on their own hands. They wouldn't sink to their victim's level.
"What're we gonna do with them if we don't?"
"Anybody got a really big trunk on their car? Or drive a truck?" Grace nudged Ketch's head with the toe of her boot. She (briefly) resisted the urge to "nudge" him a little harder, "Anybody got some shovels?"
Much to the dismay of the more bloodthirsty members of the covens, one of the witches drove an El Camino, and he volunteered to toss the Brits in the back and dump them somewhere in the woods on his way home. Rowena was placated when someone else tied their shoelaces together and handcuffed Mick's wrist to his beltloop and Ketch's to his ankle and didn't leave the key. And when their guns were melted into one giant lump, their phones smashed beyond repair. Their car was pushed into a trash ditch behind the house and burned. The B.M.o.L should have been grateful they weren't inside it, but when they met an equally fiery fate at Michael's hands, they couldn't help but wish the witches had been a little less merciful.
Grace had never been so happy to see a building as she was when the Bunker finally came into view. She knew better than to speed down a gravel road, but after surviving that ordeal with the B.M.o.L, she figured she would be alright just this once. Rowena couldn't agree more; what would a little danger hurt now? "Bloody barbarians. Think they c'n just barge in wherever they damn well please." She grumbled, "Didn't know saving the damned world was a crime."
"Us existing is a crime to them. We aren't really human, remember?" Grace whipped Cloud into the garage angrily.
"Jealousy is what it is. Puuure, ugly jealousy." Rowena gathered up the books and bags of ingredients they had salvaged from the attack, leaving her driver to get the sword and the door, "They can't have our powers fer themselves, so we can't have'm either.
Grace huffed in agreement, draping the cloth-wrapped sword across her shoulders. They hoped that the angels had less problems with their recruitment process. The team couldn't take too many more blows before the actual fight, "Well, at least the Downton Abbey rejects didn't get our stuff. I'd hate to know what kind of trouble we'd cause them if they got their mitts on something important."
Rowena rolled her eyes, "Oh no you wouldn'. You'd love every minute of turning the boys loose on those smarmy little ninnies."
"Yeah you're prob'ly right. Guys, we're back!" Grace called through the hallway, not expecting to be met with a panicked Dean, "What's wrong?"
"It's- the angels and, and- just c'mon we need you to look at this."
Grace didn't care for clarification; she bolted down the hall with the sword still in her hands, calling for their winged comrades. Sam answered, which only served to worry her more. She finally found them all in one of the bunks, circled around a first aid kit.
Cas had several cuts across his face and shoulders; they weren't deep, but there were a bunch of them. Lucifer was bruised mostly, but there was one gash down his neck and a few more across his hand, arm and his stomach…obviously defensive wounds. Gabriel was the worst off. He'd been stabbed and cut. None of them were healing.
"Is this why you didn't answer me?!" she cried out, "What happened to you?!"
"Michael beat us to some of the angels." Cas told Grace as she fussed over them and magicked their wounds away (Lucifer protested the healing, but once she caught him by his torn collar there was no escaping without taking a swing at her), "They snuck in, pretended to be on our side…and then…"
"Was he there? Michael?"
"Just missed him…they planned to ambush us and let him in." Lucifer muttered, resisting the urge to reopen his wounds. How could they have been so careless? "G-Gabe took one that was meant for me…I-I tried to stop him but…" As he stared down at his brother, his eyes glassed over and he choked back a growl or a sob, no one could quite tell. He'd hurt him so many times now…with his own hands and by failing to protect him from someone else's. There was no way he'd be forgiven now. And he'd tried.
The younger archangel, though barely conscious, groaned in disagreement, "Quit beating yourself up over it, I'm not dead yet."
"And you won't be any time soon, if I can help it." Grace sat on the edge of the bed beside him, "Why isn't it healing by itself, Gabriel?"
"Angel blade…cuts heal slower…a lot slower."
Sam moved over but didn't get up, "There's something up with these cuts though. The inside is…"
"Black…" she stretched her hands out and held them just over his skin, feeling for anything below the surface that was amiss. After a moment, she locked onto something in his system, and her hands started trembling violently. Gabriel jolted to full consciousness and gasped in agony, "Sorry sweetheart. That's demon blood…strong demon blood and a lot of it…" Grace let go, and the broken angel shuddered from the shock of the pain. With an equally pained frown, she laid her hand on his head and he suddenly went slack.
"What did you just-?" Lucifer panicked and went rigid; Cas had to grab him so he wouldn't throttle whoever got within his reach.
"I put him to sleep temporarily so he doesn't have to feel all of that. Poor thing…" she smoothed his hair back from his eyes, "It'll take me a few hours, but I should be able to run all of it out of his bloodstream faster than it would get out on its own. It won't be fun though…"
That seemed to interest Rowena who had appeared in the doorway, "Meaning?"
Grace stood, "I'll heal these cuts first, to keep his vessel from getting damaged any further. Then I'll make one to draw the demon blood from. I'll have to give him a break in between though, so the pain isn't too much to bear."
Dean seemed a little perplexed by her plan, if not downright suspicious, "So you're going to drag this out instead of taking it all in one go?"
She snapped her head to face him, "Have you ever had demon blood in you, Dean? Just the blood, not the twisted soul that goes with it? Do you know what that feels like, when it doesn't belong?" his eyes flickered to Sam, and Grace's followed, "I bet you wish you could've gotten breaks, huh? You wish you'd had some kind of relief, right?" He nodded.
Lucifer didn't seem to need any further convincing, "Alright, fine. Just, don't…"
"I won't." she reassured him, "Let him rest for now. I'll come back after we get sorted out." Before she turned to pick the sword back up, she drew a blanket up to his shoulders to keep the coolness of the bunker from his bare skin, "One of you needs to stay with him until I come back, just in case though." His older brother, of course, volunteered to assuage his guilt. He should've protected him and the other angels better. He didn't want to know how many they lost on the way out…
Sam didn't question this, and in spite of his obvious exhaustion he told Lucifer to wake him if Gabriel started hallucinating or otherwise acting strange. He, after all, had experience in dealing with this sort of thing. And Lucifer was the most familiar with Gabriel himself, "Stranger than he usually acts, you mean?"
"If that's possible."
"I'm not deaf either, y'know…"
After the sword was placed in a safe along with the spell items the remaining angels were quartered away from the legion of demons Crowley had called (what was left of the legions anyway, after some had been lost to Michael's angels) to prevent any internal strife. Several hours passed without incident, except for the lights flickering and ground trembling while Grace drew out the poison in Gabriel. Fortunately, all the cuts and the single stab wound missed the important stuff -vital organs, arteries, wings – but it still hurt like a mother to purify them. He tried not to scream and scare everyone to death, but the tremors and electrical phenomenon were entirely out of his control. So were the dents in the bedframe where his hands were wrapped around it.
The relative peace so close to the final showdown, of course drove the Winchesters crazy. That didn't happen with them. Ever. Nothing within ten miles of them ever went smoothly, especially not anything major, and most definitely not anything involving people close to them. Well, Gabriel wasn't exactly close-close, but he wasn't an enemy either…he was close enough.
Dean let his paranoia lull him to sleep; somebody would come get him if anything went down. There was no need to wear himself out before then. He would be of no help if he was sleep deprived, he reasoned.
Sam, on the other hand, felt like he was trying to sleep on a concrete slab for all the comfort his mattress was offering. His mind was racing with as many horrible thoughts as it could create… what if Gabriel didn't make it? What if their plan fell through? What if-?
"Stop it." He scolded himself, running his fingers through his hair, "He's strong…he'll be alright. And Grace's obviously no featherweight…she's got this."
"I like your confidence kiddo." Gabriel suddenly appeared at the foot of Sam's bed, his blanket draped around him like a cape, "Beats Lucifer's hovering anyway."
"Gabri-?! What are you doing up?!" he immediately leapt up and threw his own covers off so he could loom over the much shorter archangel. Not that the gesture was really all that threatening, considering the power difference.
"Just trying to escape the helicopter assault. Lucifer stared at me so hard it woke me up. And I heard you praying to me, er, whatever you were doing…" he shrugged with more effort than it should have taken.
"I-I wasn't praying…not on purpose anyway." Sam was not impressed by his logic, and quickly took him by the shoulder and guided him to the mattress before he could collapse on his own, "And I'm pretty sure you heard Grace earlier. You're supposed to be resting, not trolling around the Bunker. Now get in here and lay down, er, something before you hurt yourself." Had it been any other night, and had he been in slightly better condition, Sam would have marched Gabriel into one of the spare rooms down the hall and locked him in rather than trying to cohabitate, but since all of the other rooms were full and the archangel appeared to be on the brink of passing out, it looked like they were stuck being bunkmates for the time being.
Gabriel shot him a lecherous but tired grin as he laid down, "Hey if you wanted to sleep with me Sasquatch, you could've just asked. We both know we wouldn't be the weirdest thing on each other's list."
"You know that's not what I meant." Sam could feel his face burning bright red, both from the suggestion and from the realization that (sad as it was) the second statement was true, "I'm going to tell your brother where you are so he doesn't freak out, and then I'm coming right back. If I catch you out of bed again, I will tie you down and ward the door." The angel snickered, and the human realized too late that he'd only added on to the innuendo.
"Oooh, sounds fun. Didn't think you were that type."
"Go. To. Sleep. And no candy in the bed."
"Now that's just uncalled for." The archangel pouted like the child he was, but complied nonetheless…sort of. He made himself comfortable as Sam skulked down the hall to the main living area, but Gabriel didn't make any moves towards sleeping. Instead, he studied the contents of the room in an effort to fight his drowsiness. He didn't want to sleep. The very idea was foreign to him. Angels didn't need sleep. He'd never slept a day in his life. And yet here it was, creeping up on him like some invisible adversary.
Sam emerged from his room and crept down the hall where Gabriel had originally been with his brother; Lucifer was still sitting inside the room studying the floor intently. His focus only wavered when Sam's hand touched the door and he cleared his throat.
"I'm guessing Gabe's with you?"
Blush flashed across his face again and his jaw tightened, "Y-yeah. Just wanted to let you know…so…you wouldn't be wondering."
The angel quirked his head to the side and smirked with far less malice than the human was expecting, "C'mon Sam, that's not all you wanted and you know it. I know it." He said, "You want to tell me something else. I've seen it eating at you since I got back tonight…I know you well enough to tell."
He took a deep breath, contemplated ignoring Lucifer and stalking back to his room, then went ahead anyway, "Yeah, I uhm…I wanted to th-thank you, I guess." Genuine surprise struck the angel's features, and the retort he had built up evaporated, "I still don't trust you…I mean I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop and set you off…but…"
"But…?"
"But you didn't leave Gabriel and Cas behind earlier. And you…you've actually been pretty helpful with all this…so…thanks…" he coughed awkwardly, nodding his farewell and heading back down the hallway before either of them could make it weirder.
"Hey, Sam?"
He stopped and turned.
"I'm…" there was a heavy pause. Something that had been gnawing at Lucifer appeared and disappeared in the silent air with equal speed and was replaced with, "Don't wait too long for that other shoe, kid. I'm working on it."
It wasn't an outright apology (Sam wondered if he'd ever get one, and doubted it) but it was almost a promise of change, and he was okay with that for now. He nodded again and left. Sam returned to his bedroom and found Gabe still blinking in the lamplight, which mildly frustrated the younger Winchester. He said nothing about it however, only remarking on the fact that, in spite of Gabriel's vessel being smaller than he was, that he was hogging the bed, "Scoot. You might have hi-jacked my room, but you are not pushing me out of the bed."
Gabriel sighed and inched backward, dragging his blanket along with him, "Sam, I probably can't push these sheets any distance. I'm beat, man. But this whole sleep thing is too weird…"
"It's only for tonight. It won't be that bad." He reached over and clicked the light off, cloaking them in blackness, "I just hope you can get some sleep…the demon blood is obviously messing with you."
"That bad, huh?"
"No offense, but you look awful. Like you have the worst case of the flu in history."
"Gee, thanks." They both let out half-hearted chuckles and tried to get comfortable with each other. Sam didn't want to make it awkward by cuddling up too close, Gabriel didn't care if it was awkward or not, he just wanted to rest without being disturbed, "Sam, I promise I won't bite unless you ask. Just- c'mere." He huffed petulantly, draping Sam's arm over his shoulder and curling under it.
"A-are you su-?"
"Goodnight Sam." Gabriel mumbled, not closing his eyes until he felt Sam's head rest on top of his and his breath even out as he drifted off. Sleep wasn't all that bad, now that he thought about it…
"Where's Gabriel?" Cas asked as he came past the bunk that Lucifer was now exiting alone. Grace was also nowhere in sight, but he had seen her go into her own room a few moments ago, after she tended the other angels as best she could, or as best as they would let her. Some of them weren't quite as accustomed to working with witches as he was, he supposed. The demons had no issue with her, obviously. One of them had tried to flirt with her, he was pretty sure.
"Moose hunting." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, actually getting a chuckle out of Castiel, "Little brother doesn't enjoy being babied anymore I guess…not by me anyhow." Lucifer pretended to pout, but in truth he had expected Gabriel to run out on him as soon as he could stand. They may be on the mend, but it's a gradual process; they couldn't just jump into cloudy little bunkbeds and be all brotherly again right out of the gate. However, the two archangels had actually managed to be civil with each other while Grace was fixing the younger one, and even talked alone for a while after she told them goodnight. It wasn't until an awkward silence, not a simple case of concerned hovering, occurred that Gabriel limped out in search of the Winchester he claimed was "longing" for him loud enough to drown out the warding engraved in his ribs.
Lucifer wasn't buying that for a minute, but he let him go anyway. Whatever helped his sibling heal faster, be it prank-calling Crowley or shaving Dean's hair off or spooning with Sam, was fine with him. He'd figured out -finally- that pushing Gabriel wouldn't make things heal any faster. He was still a long way from patient though…
Cas smiled, the same thought in his mind. He was just happy their brother was going to be alright. Another thought came to him, "You don't think he-?"
"C'mon Castiel, really?"
"Well he's certainly got an odd way of showing affection…" Cas recalled some of the tales that he had been told of the Winchester's encounters with the "Trickster", and his own experience in T.V Land.
"I'm starting to think that's a family trait too…aside from our good looks y'know."
"Causing people pain and distress to show that you like them?"
Lucifer shrugged with a twinge of knowing bitterness on his tongue, "Hey, love hurts, doesn't it?"
Cas sighed, "I suppose it does, one way or another…"
Grace had left the door slightly ajar when she shuffled exhaustedly into their room; it creaked at a certain angle and she didn't want to be woken up if and when she was joined by her roommate. He had seemed a little grumpy when she had returned, and she didn't expect that he'd want to sit in silence while she slept…or tried to anyway.
That close call with Mick and Ketch had spooked her more than she wanted to admit. She was still puzzling over how they found them so quickly, and this puzzling was keeping her from resting. Sure, she was technically asleep now, but no sweet dreams were finding her. She tried to keep her troubled thoughts quiet as possible though…she didn't want to draw attention away from anything important. Not for stupid nightmares. The B.M.o.L were no longer an issue for the time being…she didn't need to worry about them, and neither did the others. One Big Bad at a time was all they needed to deal with.
Of course, Michael wasn't exactly a comforting thought to drift off on, but at least she had enough hope for victory to mostly drown him out.
She was dead to the world by the time Lucifer crept in. Her cape was halfway off the end of her bed, with one of her feet caught in the hood. The pale blue corset-dress lay on top of it, but she still wore the white gown that had been underneath. Her boots were haphazardly kicked off to the side; one under the bed and one next to the dresser. Her hair was splayed over the pillow and across her cheek, in its natural state for once, not tied back or braided.
He mentally cursed Rowena for making this poor girl drive all the way to the coven meeting and back; he could tell that there was something else on her mind besides exhaustion, but just as she would focus on it, her thoughts would shift elsewhere and he couldn't read what she was thinking…and he wasn't about to wake her to ask about it. He could (probably) wait if she could.
"Hi…" Grace awoke, rolled from her stomach onto her side, and mumbled drowsily. It wasn't the door that woke her though. She had to pull herself out of a nightmare before he could sense it.
He shook himself out of his thoughts and responded softly, "Hey…" She hummed back, then sighed. Her eyes were barely open, just enough to catch the light from the hallway. She blinked a few times, fighting sleep. He wanted to let her rest, but the worries in the back of his mind got the better of him, "Gracie?" he sat on the floor beside her bed so they were level with one another.
"Hmm?"
"Everything go okay earlier?"
She hesitated before opening her eyes fully, "Well…yeah. I guess."
He knew it, "What happened?"
"Nothing that wasn't taken care of. Just those stupid Men of Letters…" she sighed, almost wishing that she hadn't said anything at all. She could feel the tension growing with each word that filled the air, "They tried to come in and take us out, but all that got them was a free camping trip." She silently wondered if they'd untangled themselves yet, and if they'd managed to find a road out of the forest they'd been dropped in. She hoped not. She almost hoped a coyote or something had found them, but then she realized no coyote had ever offended her enough to wish that on it.
She saw a flash of red in the darkness before he spoke again, "So you could've died or worse, and we wouldn't have known until it was too late?" he hissed.
"But I didn't." She shot back, "You could have died or worse too."
The two 'or worse' scenarios flashed through the heads of both the potential victim and the one that would have been left behind. The thought of that much pain inflicted her own body made Grace quite squeamish, but not as much as the visions of bloody shreds of flannel or handfuls of broken feathers scattered across the ground. His mind had long ago silenced the voices from the Cage, the voices of the tormented souls that filtered through its bars, but the ghost-screams that suddenly rang in his head almost made him jump. The images of broken bodies and empty eyes and scorched wing outlines wouldn't have concerned him if they belonged to anyone outside of the Bunker.
"Yet here I am." Just barely, but that's not the point, he thought inwardly
Grace suppressed a yawn, then flopped back down onto the bed, "We're both here, everybody else is still here, so what are we arguing about?"
He shrugged, playing with the edge of her cloak, "I dunno…"
"Me either," she looped their pinky fingers together, "so let's call a truce and enjoy the rest of the night. Agreed?"
He nodded, pulling her cloak up around her and then retreating to his side of the room, "Goodnight Grace." Lucifer didn't sleep that night, he spent most of it hoping – maybe even praying – that this was not the last silent night that they would all see.
He received no answer to his pleas; he wasn't really expecting one, so he wasn't exactly let down...
