Chapter 7
Sam watches streaks of light wash up the bonnet of the car and disappear over the roof in a mesmerizing rhythm, like watching waves at the ocean it's something to get lost in, and it settles his indignation at being in the passenger seat while his brother drives with awkward movements and stilted breaths, trying not to jar painful ribs.
It's not personal, Sam tells himself. It's not supposed to be some pronouncement on trust, that Dean doesn't trust him to drive, it's just Dean being stubborn, trying to prove to the world at large that he's fine, when he isn't.
But understanding it doesn't make it any less annoying.
"So how did you know?" Sam asks suddenly, dropping the arm propped against the window and sitting straighter in the seat. "How did you know the old guy was a demon?"
Dean's forehead wrinkles thoughtfully. "I don't know... There was something about him. I wasn't sure but I figured sprinkling the old guy with water wasn't going to kill him if I was wrong."
Sam chuffs. "Lucky break."
It sounds condescending which Sam hadn't intended, but honestly, there's no skill in throwing holy water randomly at people, and Sam is relieved he didn't miss any tells.
Dean gives him a quick glance. "Yeah," he admits. "What do you think that demon was doing at the church?"
"I don't know," Sam sighs. He could have found out if he'd had more time. "Some sort of preparations I guess."
"You think he was looking for the priest? Wanted to work some more mojo on him?"
"Maybe."
Dean pauses before asking, "So what happens now?" He stares impassively ahead, can't look at Sam when his lack of experience is showing. "I mean you just got rid of Lilith, is that the end of it?"
"It wasn't Lilith," Sam says flatly, feeling the burn of another lost opportunity. "It was some other demon, some minion."
"Oh." After a thoughtful moment Dean asks, "How do you know. How do you tell these guys apart?
"I just know. The demon told me Lilith was gone."
"Oh well, if the demon told you…" Dean gives him a reproachful glance.
Sam clicks his tongue. "Sometimes demons tell the truth Dean. It's not all lies all the time."
"Well I wouldn't believe it. If the demon said Lilith is gone then I'd be thinking she's somewhere close by."
Sam gives a wry smile. He remembers a time when they used to follow that principal, believe the opposite of whatever came out of a demon mouth, but things are complicated now, not quite so cut and dry. When he's mentally squeezing the life out of a demon he's inclined to believe they tell the truth. But nothing is absolute. And he'd love to believe that Lilith is nearby.
"I'm going to the vending machine for a soda, you want anything?"
Dean is propped on the bed with pillows at his back, nursing his aching ribs with a glass of Jack Daniels. "I'm good." He tries to raise his glass in cheers, but winces at the motion.
Sam waits until he is at reception, sure that he is completely alone, before he pulls out his phone and calls Ruby. "Are you trapped?" he quips.
"You jerk," she growls. "How long were you going to make me wait if I was?"
"Just a few hours," Sam teases, but quickly gets serious. "You still know where Lilith is?"
"No, I don't." Ruby's tone is terse, slow to forgive. "She's moving around a lot. I'd have to find out."
"Then find out," Sam instructs. "I'm pretty sure I could meet you tonight. And I would love to finish off Lilith. If I can kill her quickly Dean needn't know anything about it. Or about what I can do." Almost to himself he adds, "I'm looking forward to being done with these powers."
"Yeah, right," Ruby responds cynically. "There's a bit more going on than just Lilith. I wouldn't be so quick to hang up the six shooter, you're going to need those powers for more than just her."
"We'll see," Sam pushes back, serious in his intentions. Lilith is the grand prize. Once he's dealt with her, he's honestly considering shutting down his ability. But at the same time, there is the nagging thought that there will always be demons…
"Dean."
Castiel's unexpected appearance inside the room makes Dean jump, and the sudden movement has him clutching his chest and grimacing. "Jesus," he croaks, breathing unevenly through the screech of pain. "Where did you come from?"
Castiel ignores the question, perhaps aware that reminding Dean of what he is and what he can do wouldn't be a satisfactory response. "You need to return to the church."
"What church?" Dean asks suspiciously, shifting carefully to regain a comfortable position.
"The one you were last at."
Dean presses his lips together. He hasn't seen Castiel all day, and is irked that apparently he is aware of their movements. "How did you know we were at a church?"
"I was watching."
"Really?" Dean face twists in disgust, imagining Castiel skulking in the shadows. "You're quite the little stalker. How much did you see?"
"I saw everything," Castiel says seriously.
"Did you see the demon?"
"Yes."
"And you decided not to help?" Dean's voice drips sarcasm.
"My help wasn't needed."
Dean gives a small, disbelieving laugh. "My ribs beg to differ."
Castiel doesn't reply, doesn't defend himself, regards Dean pensively and then moves slowly toward him. The closer he gets the more alarmed Dean becomes. "What are you doing?" he asks nervously. The angel doesn't answer, keeps edging closer, and Dean wishes he could move quickly to put some space between them, looks around for anything within reach he could use as a weapon and steels himself to throw a punch if it's required. "Sam will be back in a minute," he threatens, and cringes at how embarrassingly weak it sounds.
Castiel reaches out a hand, and Dean knocks it roughly aside. The angel is unruffled, and simply reaches out with his other hand to lay a light touch on Dean's chest. Dean inhales sharply as a flash of heat flows through him, making him wince for a moment, then suddenly he is free of pain, he notices it immediately, his ribs no longer ache. He take a few deep breaths, to convince himself it's not his imagination, then gazes at Castiel in astonishment, for the first time considering that maybe Castiel is who he says. But at the same time he also searches his mind for what other creature might have the power to heal, the idea of angels still so far-fetched.
Sam opens the door and pauses when he sees Castiel.
"What's going on?" he asks, trying not to act guilty, wondering if the angel knows he was just on the phone to Ruby as he shuts the door.
"You need to return to the church," Castiel urges.
But Sam is looking at his brother, at Dean's shocked expression, staring strangely at Castiel, and he's worried that Castiel has told him something, something that Sam has been trying to keep under wraps. There's a wide range of things it might be.
"Dean?" Sam prompts. "Everything okay?"
Dean looks at him, then looks away. "Yeah," he says unconvincingly, and it frustrates Sam that if Castiel did tell him something Dean would probably keep it to himself, so he cuts through the secrecy and asks Castiel directly, "What did you tell him?"
"That you need to return to the church."
Sam tilts his head. "Is that it?"
"Yes," Castiel replies, and even though the tone is mild Sam can hear the subtext, that he could have said more.
"Is there more?" Dean interjects.
"Yes," Castiel says, at the same time as Sam says, "No."
Dean's eyebrows draw together and Sam amends, "Well yeah, okay, you're missing six years, there's a lot more to tell. But not all at once, not now."
A heavy silence falls upon the room. Sam can feel Castiel's disapproval, and he glares defiantly in return, because he didn't cause this situation, he had it dropped in his lap, and how he chooses to deal with it is none of the angels' business. Before Dean can pursue any questions about what else he should know Sam deliberately returns the conversation to its origin. "Why do we need to return to the church?"
"People are gathering," Castiel declares solemnly. "It looks like the seal might be broken tonight."
"Can't you and yours handle it?" Sam exclaims, eyes flicking worriedly toward Dean. They've already encountered a demon today, possibly the first for his brother in this state. It seems a bit much to ask them to re-enter the lion's den, especially when Dean is already injured.
"We need you," Castiel replies simply.
"Why?" Dean enquires, genuinely puzzled. "You're an angel, just go and smite everybody. Why do you need us?"
"We can't be everywhere," the angel explains. "Everyone has to pull their weight."
"But you could be at the church tonight," Sam persists. "Surely you can spare some guys to save a seal?"
"Better than sending in a couple of under-powered schmoes," Dean adds quietly, and Sam finds it interesting that his brother is not so keen to take on the hunt this time, is actually suggesting they may not be the best people for the job. The encounter with a demon has made an impact. Although Sam is a little insulted at being characterized as an under-powered shmoe. Speak for yourself he thinks.
"Orders need to be followed," Castiel says impassively.
Dean's eyebrows quirk up. "Whose orders? Yours?"
"Heaven's."
"Heaven is ordering us to go to the church?" There's a hard edge to Dean's voice, and Sam can see where the conversation is heading. His brother has always had trouble with authority. The only person who has ever been able to give him an order was Dad, everyone else got a sharp push back.
"Yes." Castiel is oblivious to the tone.
"Okay, you know what?" Dean drops his glass on the side table and rises, puts the bed between him and Castiel. "I think we've been pretty patient with your minimal information and unreasonable requests. I appreciate your help, I mean it was nice of you to, you know…" Dean gestures at his ribs awkwardly, "heal me, or whatever, but maybe it's time we went our separate ways."
The penny drops for Sam. That's why Dean looked so freaked out. Castiel healed him.
Castiel tilts his head, non-plussed, and repeats slowly, "Our separate ways? We have to protect the seals or Lucifer will rise."
"I get that," Dean says quickly. "We'll stay in the fight. I just think it's better if we call our own shots from now on."
The angel's expression darkens as he proclaims, "That's not how it works."
"It is from now on." Dean sets his mouth firmly, meets the angels glare with flinty eyes, and Sam is struck by how like Dad he looks. And he knows there is no arguing with that tone.
Castiel shifts his attention to Sam, looking for help, and Sam shrugs helplessly. Heaven took Dean's memories and now he has no idea how indebted he is to them, no idea that if not for Castiel he would be languishing in hell. And it seems just. Serves heaven right for imposing their will in such a heavy handed way. Sam can't think of anything he could say right now that would change his brother's mind, and isn't minded to even if he could.
The angel shakes his head, looking as angry as Sam has ever seen him, then disappears with a slight rustle.
"Nice doing business with you," Dean shouts into the air, but then casts a serious look at Sam. "Are you cool with ditching that guy? I mean, I know I'm playing catch up …"
"No, that's fine." Not only is Sam cool with it, it could work out great. No more oversight and self-righteous judgment. "But I don't think those guys are so easily ditched. Castiel will be back."
Dean scrunches his nose. "Whatever. What's our play from here?"
"We… go to bed?" Sam says uncertainly, hoping that's their play because he wants to be ready when Ruby calls.
"I was thinking we should go to the church," Dean contradicts. "Schmoes or not I want to see what's going on."
Sam gives a disbelieving laugh. "I thought you didn't want to go. You just argued with an angel about it."
"No, you argued. I just didn't like the way he asked."
When they arrive at the church, the carpark is crowded with cars. Dean parks around the corner and hesitates to get out.
"Maybe we shouldn't be here." He rubs a hand across his mouth, worried. "Maybe we should let the angels finish this one."
Sam gives him a searching look, trying to figure out what's at the heart of the sudden change. He has a sinking feeling that Dean is worried about him, having cold feet about including him in a hunt that involves demons. Whatever Sam says, however much he tries to reassure Dean that he is capable and experienced, Dean isn't able to believe it because he hasn't seen it. It's getting tiring, having to correct his brother's misapprehensions. So rather than tackle the argument head on, he takes lateral aim.
"Yeah, sure, the angels can handle it," Sam agrees. "We'll just watch through the window."
Dean considers for a few seconds, weighing pros and cons.
"We're already here," Sam presses. "We might as well take a look." Dean gives an unwilling nod.
They arm themselves 'just in case', ready for both demon and man, with salt and holy water, guns and knives, then walk around the outside of the church, looking for a good vantage point. The nave windows are too high, and the windows at the entry give only a slim view of what's going on inside.
"How about we sneak in through the back door?" Sam suggests.
Before Dean can say no, Sam is rounding the church, leaving Dean with no choice but to follow. Sam already has his lock pick tools working when Dean catches up.
"Maybe we should think about this," Dean says, mildly anxious. "Work out a plan."
"No, it's fine," Sam reassures. "We'll find a vantage point inside and watch what goes down."
He has no intention of watching. He doesn't think Dean believes him either, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't try to talk him out of it. In a few seconds the door is open and they steal inside, into the run-down kitchen. The devil's trap on the floor has been broken, part of the design scrubbed off and Sam curses inwardly.
"Trap's broken," Sam points out. "Why don't you lay salt around the edge of the room."
Dean narrows his eyes. "While you do what?"
"I'm just going to get a little closer to the action. See what's going on."
"Not without me."
Sam huffs. "Could you lay the salt and then catch up?"
"How about you lay the salt and I'll take a look," Dean counters.
For crying out loud! Sam silently yells. Does Dean have to countermand every instruction he gives? What are they, joined at the hip?
"Fine," Sam says peevishly, not wanting to waste time on the argument. "We'll do it together."
They roughly drop salt in an unbroken line, working to speed rather than neatness, then move slowly toward the nave of the church. They crack open a door and peer in. Pastor Steve is at the pulpit and there are about 50 men, dressed in the garb of various denominations, sitting in the pews.
"I know you've seen the signs," Pastor Steve says, and his voice carries easily thanks to the acoustics in the hall. "You know what it means, we've all read the bible enough times to know the signs of the apocalypse."
There are acknowledging murmurs in reply.
"Where are the angels?" Dean whispers.
Sam shrugs. Seems like those guys are never in the right place at the right time.
"We have to take our service to the next level," Steve preaches. "Talk isn't enough anymore, we have to be prepared to get our hands dirty. Our love of God, our love of humanity, requires us to do what's right, no matter how difficult."
Pastor Steve reaches under the pulpit and pulls something out, Sam sees a glint of metal, but it's kept low and hidden. Sam's thinking either a gun or knife. As the pastor steps down and makes his way into the audience, Sam instructs his brother, "Stay here."
"What?" Dean protests, incredulous.
Sam slips quietly into the church hall, and hears Dean's footfalls right behind him. He's not really surprised, but he despairs a little at his brother's inability to take a suggestion because he only wanted to keep him out of harm's way.
Sam pulls his gun from his waistband, points it in the direction of the pastor, and yells, "Stop." Pastor Steve does, looks at him in surprise. Sam sees recognition in his eyes. "Whatever you're about to do, don't do it," Sam instructs. "Put the weapon down."
"What are you doing here?" Steve asks, then decides he doesn't care what he's doing there, and says, "You need to go. This doesn't involve you."
"It does involve us," Sam replies. "We can help."
Pastor Steve takes a small step, testing Sam. His eyes are on one man in particular, sitting quietly in a pew, a middle aged man greying at the temples, in Catholic garb.
Sam flicks off the safety. "I mean it," he threatens. "You are about to make a mistake of apocalyptic proportion, put your weapon down, and we can talk about it."
Steve's target stands up, with his hands meekly raised, then turns to Sam and blinks a shutter of black. "I am so glad you're here," the demon says, and Sam is thrown backward, pinned against the wall, breath knocked out of him. He takes a few seconds to try to summon his power, see if he can exorcise the demon from the awkward position, without being able to move, but finds he can't direct the energy without the use of his arm. He resolves to work on it with Ruby.
"You okay," Dean says out of the corner of his mouth, gun raised but standing very still, not taking his eyes off the demon.
"Yeah," Sam replies, frustrated, straining against the holding force and gaining no traction.
"Lets all just settle down," Dean commands, even though the room is unnaturally still, visitors frozen by uncertainty, unsure if they are witnessing a planned performance. And Dean is at a loss how to proceed. If he makes a move toward the demon he figures he's going to suffer the same treatment as Sam. Being manhandled from a distance was a surprise to him before, there's a phantom twinge in his ribs that tells him he doesn't want to suffer that fate again.
When Pastor Steve takes another step, bringing him almost within reach of the demon, Dean fires into the air. "You take one more step and the next one is in your leg."
Steve looks at him in annoyance, motions toward the demon. "Do you understand what is going on here? Do you know what that is?"
"I know," Dean replies simply.
"Do you, Dean?" the demon asks, cocking his head in mock sympathy. "I know you've got some issues with your melon. I'm delighted you know what I am."
The Pastor takes advantage of the demon's diverted attention to draw back his arm and thrust a knife toward the greying priest's chest, but before the blow lands the demon flicks his wrist and pushes the priest to the floor, slides him a couple of feet away. "I'll get to you champ," he coos. "You're a credit to your kind. I just need to have a few words with Dean first."
The demon moves toward Dean, makes his way through an empty pew. Dean very slowly inches his free hand toward the inside of his jacket, to the flask of holy water within, preparing to pull it out when the demon is close.
"You don't need that," the demon reprimands, and Dean is pushed backward and pinned to the wall, in the same manner as Sam only a couple of feet away. "We're just going to talk."
"I'm not going to talk." Dean utters it as a threat, eyes blazing as he struggles against the restraint.
"You don't need to," the demon replies. "I just want to help you out, fill in a few blank spots."
Sam goes cold. The demon is going to reveal things he has been trying to keep under wraps, and even though Dean has already indicated he doesn't believe anything a demon might say, sowing seeds is going to have an effect, cause problems, he just knows it.
"Go to hell," Dean snarls, then adds derisively, "I hear it's delightful."
Sam winces.
"You should know," the demon chuckles. "You had a lovely time down there. Did Sam tell you about it?"
Dean doesn't respond but the muscles in his jaw tic. Sam renews his efforts to break the hold, aching to shut the demon up.
"Of course, Sam is one of us now. He's our brightest star," the demon crows. "You should see what he can do."
Suddenly, Sam is released from the hold, stumbles a little away from the wall then catches his balance. In his anger he brings his arm up to exorcise the demon but just as quickly sense prevails and he lowers it. He does not want to use his power in front of Dean. It was not well received the first time around, and there is no reason to believe it would be better received now. Instead, he starts reciting the latin exorcism.
"No, no, no," the demon yells impatiently, and tosses Sam against the wall, hard enough to make him crumple to the ground, but not to do any damage, just making a point. "You know what I want. Show your brother what you can do, or I start mauling priests. Or maybe," he sneers, "I start mauling Dean. Give him a trip down memory lane."
Sam is conflicted. He picks himself up very slowly, pretending to be more hurt than he is, stalling for time and hoping for a miraculous intervention from Ruby or the angels. When Dean gives a yelp, and bloods wells in his shirt at the shoulder, Sam unwillingly raises his arm, and finds it bizarre that the demon is begging to be exorcised. And he is amazed that the seal seems to have been forgotten for the moment, that messing with the Winchesters is more of a priority.
"Are you hoping your demon wife will save the day?" the demon needles. "Because I have it on good authority she is out seeking bigger fish. Have you told Dean how close you and Ruby are? What she does for you?" He gives Dean a theatrical wink. "They are friends with benefits."
Sam mentally squeezes, closes his eyes and lets power flow through. He has to stop the chatter. The demon starts choking, black spurts cough out of the mouth and Dean's eyes go wide with horror, gaze darts between Sam and the demon, trying to make sense of what he is seeing.
Suddenly Castiel is there. Just appears out of nowhere with barely a sound, right beside the demon. He puts a palm on the demon head and sends the evil back to hell with a flash of light and a crack of sound. As grateful as Sam is for the save he mentally curses the angel for his timing. Five minutes sooner and Dean would be none the wiser about Sam's power. Now it's something they're going to have to discuss, Sam is going to have to explain. He wonders if the delay was deliberate, if the angels are still trying to manipulate.
Whatever Dean is thinking, he acts quickly, mind on the job, and yells, "Everyone into the kitchen." He points to the door, "Through here. Into the kitchen. Now."
There's five minutes of pandemonium. The priests don't move fast enough, too dignified to run like children, and there's another demon among them, which makes sense, all that goading of Sam to use his powers was never intended to result in an exorcism, it was supposed to be a show for Dean that would be cut short by the partner.
Priests are killed. Heads are twisted and necks snap. In the confusion Sam can't figure out which body is being inhabited, where the other demon is, and he stays close to Castiel, while Dean herds the increasingly frightened men in the direction of the kitchen, yelling at them not to disturb the salt on the floor.
Pastor Steve is on his feet, knife threateningly in his hand, and he has eyes on someone, looking at him with disgust and terror. The ease with which he seems to identify the demons makes Sam wonder if he was tipped off beforehand about who to look out for. With Castiel and Sam only a few feet away, the pastor plunges his knife into the chest of the target, and for a moment the possessed man regards the pastor with amusement. "Nicely done," he congratulates, and the mouth opens, pouring black smoke into the air which flys in formation into the entry way and under the front door.
The pastor looks nauseous, pale and sweating, as the man he just knifed topples to the floor. "I did it," he chokes, when Sam and Castiel are at his side. "I struck a blow for the righteous and killed that devil."
"No, you didn't," Sam says dejectedly, and can't help but feel a little sorry for the priest, a complete amateur who's been deluded into not only acting against his beliefs (thou shalt not kill) but unwittingly acting against his own interests, furthering the plans of hell. Sam looks around the room and counts five bodies on the floor and realizes with dismay that the seal has been broken.
