Matthias edged away from the grappling demon and angel. He heard the Impala speed out of the parking lot and part of the tension in his body relaxed. Claire was gone. She would be safe. He hesitated, wanting to follow after her but he couldn't rightly leave his brother here to face the demon alone, not when he was bound and weakened.
With a grunt, Dean managed to sling off Castiel. The angel landed in a heap, his head striking the bed frame. For a moment Cas felt woozy and he fought off the sensation that was clouding his mind. Dean struggled to his feet and turned back to Matthias. The fight seemed to have gone out of the youthful angel. He gave Dean a half-smile, looking almost apologetic. He knew he had only been a distraction to buy the two humans time to escape.
Dean let out a long string of curses, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. He could see Castiel attempting to get to his feet once more and he uttered a phrase in an archaic language. Cas cried out, the manacles that were binding his wrists flashing white hot at the activated containment spell. He hunched over and curled protectively around his burning wrists. Dean pointed the First Blade at him.
"You, stay there," he spat the order. The sound of unfurling wings caught his attention as Matthias made an attempt to escape. "Oh no you don't," he muttered angrily, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke and slamming into the angel, forcing them both back into temporal space. He blindly brought the Blade down, feeling the satisfying snag as it caught one of Matthias' wings, half-severing it from his vessel. The angel cried out in shock and pain, crumpling to the ground.
"Dean, stop!" screamed Castiel, a sick horror filling up inside him. Dean turned to him, his eyes pitch black and void of any semblance of the man he once was. Cas knew there would be no getting through the rage of the First Blade to him.
Dean brought the Blade down again, this time completely severing the fall-torn wing from the angel. Matthias let out an agonized scream, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. His ability to keep his vessel's personality separate was beginning to falter. The teenager was becoming aware of the pain and he could feel the boy beginning to panic.
Dean reached under his shirt collar and pulled out a leather cord with a vial at the end. "You might as well make yourself useful for all the trouble you've caused," he growled as he opened the vial. Matthias stared at it dully through the pain searing across his being.
"Secretiora mea numerasti pone lacrimam meam in conspectu tuo sed non in narratione tua," the angel muttered, his voice slurring slightly.
Dean paused, he strange words slowing the tide of the Blade's rage. "Wh-what?" he stammered, confusion crowding out the intense desire to kill.
"'You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book'," translated the angel. Matthias pointed shakily at the vial. "It's a urnae lacyrmales. They were once used to hold the tears of those mourning. It's the only thing that can hold an angel's grace."
He muttered these last words with a tone of defeat. He knew what the demon would now do to him, but he wasn't as frightened as he thought he would be. He turned to Castiel, to the one some of his brethren considered a hero. He trusted that of anyone else in the world, it would be Castiel who would stop this monster and protect his Claire.
"I don't really care what it is," replied Dean. "Sorry, kid, you have something I need." He brought the First Blade up over his head and swung it down in a graceful arch.
The nighttime scenery was a blur as the Impala raced down the Interstate. Sam continuously glanced in the rearview mirror for signs of pursuit, but each time all his saw was empty road stretching on under pale moonlight. He could hear Claire sniffling but he kept his attention fixed on the road in front of him. She was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, her back pointedly towards him. It hurt a little bit, but there would be time to make amends later. The tape player was playing one of Dean's Metallica mixes and Sam angrily turned it off.
A few miles further down and he took the exit that would head back in the direction of the bunker. Sam knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean would go there to look for them, but he had to hope that the Men of Letters' warding would buy them some time.
Sam's mind spun futilely, replaying the interaction with Dean on infinite loop, studying every nuance of expression and every word spoken. Was there any trace of the man that was his brother left in the demon? He thought back to the moment when Dean had tried to appeal to him to help him save Cas. As terrible as the thought was, he couldn't help but wonder if even human-Dean would have been willing to sacrifice Claire for the angel. Surely that mean there was still a part of Dean's humanity left?
Dean stood stunned as he watched the red blood blossom through the Castiel's dress shirt. His eyes shifted back to their human blue-green as fear filled his mind. "You stupid son of a bitch," he muttered, looking between his friend and the young angel he had shoved out of the way.
"Run, Matthias," hissed Castiel as he clutched the seeping wound in his right shoulder. He hoped it wouldn't prove fatal, but he was so weak right now, he couldn't feel confident in that assessment.
The younger angel did not argue. With a stuttering flapping noise, he disappeared. He wouldn't be able to go far with only one wing, and that wing already so damaged by the fall, but that didn't matter. Dean wasn't going to pursue him; he couldn't stop staring at the red spreading across Cas' shirt. The demon's grip tighten on the Blade.
"What the hell are you thinking, Cas?" he yelled, anger bubbling up. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed the angel by the shirt collar, shaking him violently. "Do you just not care? Does it not matter? You're dying, dammit!"
Dean shoved the angel away from himself and began to pace back and forth like a caged animal.
"Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? I kill for you, and it's not enough..." the demon snarled.
"Why do you think I would want you to kill for me?" asked Castiel softly. "Dean..."
"Oh, so I'm 'Dean' again? Not just 'demon'," he snapped. He spun towards the angel his eyes darkening and then shifting completely to black. "I've had it, Castiel. I was never good enough for Dad. All I ever heard was to try harder, to be better, but it was never enough for him."
"Dean..."
"And Sam, he just up and left me alone, ran off to live his little happily ever after life and who cares if Dean is left behind to pick up the pieces and carry the slack..."
"Dean!"
"And you, Cas!" He moved forward, towering over the angel. "You were the worst. You've lied to me, betrayed me, hidden things from me. You were never there for me when I needed you. None of you were ever there for me when I needed you. And now I'm done with all of you."
Dean raised the First Blade, all thoughts of concern for the angel drowned out by rage and hate. Castiel scrambled backwards until he hit the bedpost. He was vaguely aware that tears had formed in the corners of his eyes and were now dripping down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, but he knew nothing would slow the demon's anger now.
Red smoke swirled between them and then condensed into the familiar form of the King of Hell. Crowley held out one hand imploringly to Dean. Castiel gazed at him in surprise.
"Calm down, Squirrel," stated Crowley in a soothing tone. "Think before you act."
Dean's face remained the picture of mindless rage. He hesitated but looked even more perturbed at the interruption.
"Dean," snapped the King of Hell, his own eyes bleeding into the red film of his true nature.
The Knight blinked rapidly, some of the rage slipping away. He let the leather cord holding the vial slip from his grasp and thump against his chest. He suddenly felt almost tired, a feeling he hadn't expected to ever feel again. He moved suddenly, shoving past Crowley, and stalking out of the room into the night.
"I'm done here," he called out over his shoulder, dissolving into darkness and disappearing.
Crowley let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. Castiel fought to regain his feet, his vessel's loss of blood slowing his movements. He prodded at the wound. He would need sleep to heal it. He looked over at the King of Hell and opened his mouth to thank the demon, but hesitated. Crowley glanced up at him expectantly.
"Why?" he asked instead, staring at the short demon in disbelief.
"Because I actually quite like you angel," he answered casually. He frowned as he glanced at the spot where Dean had disappeared from. He turned to Cas, his voice changing to it's usual syrupy sarcasm. "Don't see why you find that so shocking. All these years together after all. Of course I have other reasons," he drawled with a shrug. "I am a demon after all."
Cas snorted and shook his head, soliciting a smile from Crowley.
"One moment does not negate years of betrayal, Crowley," he replied gruffly
The king gave him a sinister smile.
"No, it doesn't, does it angel ?"
Author's Note: So, yeah, another chapter. Lots and lots of thanks to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed. It means so much to me! And makes me squee. Oh, and Matthias is quoting Psalm 56:8, first in Latin and then in the New Living Translation. And no, I don't actually know Latin, got it from . And urnae lacyrmales is a real thing. People in mourning used to carry them and collect their tears in the bottles, which is actually what the verse is referring to. I don't know why I thought it would be neat if they could contain an angel's grace. Guess I'm just weird like that.
