Rose Manor
Balthazar felt them whirl and whirl in the air. The scene in Seattle melted around them and both Dante and himself hit the ground elsewhere. Balthazar had moved them at the speed of light, and while he was very much used to it, Dante was not. Perhaps he had not taken flight in some time or his power to maneuver stemmed from something different than what Balthazar used.
Or perhaps it was that injury. He got up first and resisted the temptation to help Dante up and instead looked at their surroundings. He had been here once before, over ten years ago. And the place looked vastly different from how he remembered. Rose Manor looked haunted. It was once the most prominent mansion in Paradise Rock. Now the white paint had faded from gray to black. The gates were left open and slightly bent out of shape where Dante and Balthazar had landed. The windows were grayed out as well, faint films of dust covering the glass.
"Where are we?" Dante had pulled himself up as well and gripped the gate, keeping it from swinging and dragging him along as he used it for support. He hadn't even looked up at the manor itself.
"You should know. You've been here," said Balthazar with a slight bite to his tone. This manor was given to the demon Lilith as a gift from her "brother", Dean. But before that, it was a manor under the wealthy archaeologist, Dominic Gunn. It was here that Castiel was sent on a mission that he completely and utterly forgot later on, thanks to Dean being here as well. It was the place where Dominion broke.
Dante glanced up at that comment and eyed the mansion. "This is where you decide to bring us?"
"It was the spur of the moment decision. I wanted somewhere quiet and...reserved so we could stop. I could only assume after everything this place has been through, it would be abandoned. Good thing I counted on my intuition," said Balthazar, frowning at Dante.
Dante blinked slowly and released the gate to stagger towards it. "There's a dark taint in this place."
Balthazar was instantly alert by his side, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Who is it?"
Dante closed his eyes and rolled them, looking sideways at Balthazar." I didn't say it was a person...or persons...It's a taint. It's residual...It's been building for quite some time. No wonder this place has been left untouched. Even the humans can probably detect it."
"How did it get here?" Balthazar wondered.
"How do you think? After all that's happened here, I'm not surprised," said Dante coolly. "Heh."
"Well, is it safe for us to go in?" Balthazar asked. "I wouldn't have chosen this place had I known."
"For me...I don't know about you. I wouldn't sleep anywhere for sure," said Dante.
"I don't require sleep," Balthazar answered him.
"Lucky for you," said Dante.
"Come on, let's go," said Balthazar, stepping past him and doing what he originally planned, just hoping it came out smoother. He paused and looked back at Dante with a slightly worried look. "Do you need help?"
"No," said Dante pointedly, releasing the gate with some effort and following Balthazar in step. He looked paler than usual. Like the fight with the demon in Seattle had exhausted him. And maybe it had, but it should not have been doing that, especially since he had healed Dante once they cleared the barrier.
But the demon had taunted them, spoke of a wound that would not heal on Dante. It was why he could not run, could not really make flight, not without great fatigue. It was killing him, slowly.
"What caused that wound on your wing?" Balthazar asked. "And why didn't it heal when I healed you?"
"Because it's a gift from Dean," said Dante coldly.
"So it doesn't heal?"
"No," said Dante, reaching the front door first and nearly collapsing against a white pillar that was decoratively placed on either side of the entrance.
"Is it...," Balthazar trailed off, thinking it was better not to delve into it. He had a feeling he really didn't want to hear it. It probably didn't help their current situation in anyway.
Instead, he looked at the door itself and found that the door was just slightly ajar. The entrance hall was still grand but it still had evidence of the battle that had taken place here. Merrick and Lilith had fought Uriel and himself here and he had bested them at the cost of Uriel's life. The commanding officer at the time was Raphael who had ordered both demons alive after capture, only to kill them later on in front of Dean in vicious act of sadism.
Before that, the mission for the Scripture and where Dominion broke, Balthazar honestly couldn't account for all that.
Dante hadn't been wrong, though. There was a dark taint here. Not quite a presence. He could feel no life. It was simply as if the place had been touched by darkness in the time it had been left without occupancy. Or perhaps it was because of the history that occurred here, that it felt this way.
He stepped into the entrance hall and looked around, looked up the long stairwell that went to both east and west wings, and eyed the broken furniture and cracked floor. This place was beautiful not too long ago. And Balthazar may not have appreciated such beauty in man-made architecture before, but it was different now. And Balthazar actually lamented what was lost here.
Dante trudged past him and rested himself on the edge of the stairs where he flopped down, panting hard and clutching his chest. Really, it seemed like an infection was spreading. But when Balthazar was healing him, he could detect no affliction in the bloodstream. It was just that consistent bloodloss that was weakening him.
"For what it's worth," Balthazar spoke to his back. "I'm sorry about what happened back there with Crowley. I can only imagine the pain that you're going through."
Dante didn't even blink. He managed to shrug one shoulder with a slight wince. "You win some, you lose some. It happens all the time."
Balthazar raised an eyebrow. " I honestly think they say that about baseball cards. Not about demons. You don't have to act tough, Dante. There's no one around to call you out on it. You should know me better."
"Demons are slaves, Balthazar. That's what they were born to be. Why do you think time and time again, Fallen and Demon have been at war? They were built to be our servants. If they die, oh well, you make another one," said Dante dismissively.
"I don't even think you have the strength to make another demon," said Balthazar.
"Considering my first one hasn't died just yet," said Dante with the merest flicker of a smile up at Balthazar. "You jump too quickly to your conclusions, old friend. Crowley isn't dead yet. Weren't you listening to that troll in Seattle? He wasn't there to kill me, he was there to...as he put it, 'rob me of my incentive'. The idea was to capture Crowley or perhaps to capture...you."
"Me?" Balthazar stared, alarmed.
"Whatever incentive I need to go to DC personally," said Dante, bring one foot up and beginning to pull off his boots one at a time with much strain.
"Then why would it be me?" Balthazar gave a dry scoff. "You would never go out of you way for anyone, least of all me."
Dante's eyes gleamed rather coldly. "They...don't know that."
"So you don't plan on making a trip to Washington D.C to confront Dean?"
Dante pulled the last boot off and kicked his shoes far away from him in annoyed fashion, then peered up at Balthazar. "I'm going to kill Dean, Balthazar. And I'm going to kill Castiel. It's just a matter of time. Doesn't that conflict with your desire to save him?"
"I don't think you're going to kill anyone in your state and didn't you mention that if you wanted them dead, they would be? What happened to staying away?"
"Yeah, see that was before my demon got captured...and that was before this wound started to pain me to the point of slow decay," said Dante. "And since he has quite literally turned this entire planet upside down in an attempt to have me killed..," Dante trailed off as if no more needed to be said on the matter. "But it may not be today...or maybe tomorrow...but I will...I have plenty more incentive to do it than Crowley's capture, trust me."
"Dante, you said you could stop Dean...I meant for this to mean...stop. Not kill. If I have to do this alone, I will,"
"You honestly think he won't kill you the second he sees you?" It was Dante's turn to scoff as he flattened both feet on the stair step. "You're a celestial. You're meat. That's all you are to a demon."
"I need to find Castiel," said Balthazar. " Castiel is another fragment. If anyone can reach out to Dean...He can."
"Castiel," Dante repeated, amused. "Castiel would never abandon Dean, no matter what choices he makes. If he kills us all, you can bet on his angel sticking by him to the very end."
"Castiel is-"
"Naive. Trusting. Compassionate. Everything Dean and I are...heh..not," said Dante coolly. "Wrathful, to a point. But he's not like us. He's Compassion, after all. That would make him the weakest."
"He can help save Dean," said Balthazar.
" Listen to me, Balthazar. Every one of us...Dean, Castiel...Myself. We were each given two fragments from Dominion each. It divided evenly that way. Each of our fragments represent us differently. Call one a fragment of Dominion's personality. Call another a fragment of Dominion's power. He became sentient after all."
Balthazar approached and came to sit right next to Dante on the stair step. "So you're saying that...Memory...Compassion. These are personality fragments...and the others like Law and...Havoc, they're not?"
"Memory, Compassion...Despair," Dante paused on the last one for a moment and Balthazar knew why. Despair was him, after all. "Yes, those are fragments of Dominion's personality. Law, Retribution, Havoc...These are just power fragments. What separates us from the next demon and Fallen, you could say."
Funny how he was Despair. Considering he knew Dante well, what had happened to him to make him despair so? Didn't they all have something to despair for? Dean, more so than the others.
Or at least, that's what he thought. What did Dante despair? Falling into Treachery? Losing his place in Heaven?
As always, Balthazar voiced his thought out loud rather than keep it in. "What makes you Despair, Dante? I have...I have known you so very long. I used to think I knew you better than yourself...but you changed. You changed so swiftly. One minute, you were there, the next moment, you're gone. Literally...I don't forget, Dante. I don't forget our last meeting before all this mess. It's like you barely recognized me."
Balthazar leaned forward, raising his knees up and placing his elbows there where he covered his face. "If I had known what it was. If you would have only told me...perhaps all this could have been avoided."
Dante was staring straight ahead where Balthazar could not see. Lost in memory, perhaps like Balthazar had been. "There was nothing you could have done. Nothing you could have said. It was too late...even then."
Balthazar raised his head to look at him with sad eyes. "Dante."
"What's done is done, Balthazar. No one can change the past. No matter how hard you wish it," said Dante firmly.
"We can change the present. That's why I want to save Dean...Get out of this mess with Dominion's fragments," said Balthazar. He took Dante's hand as it rested on his raised thigh. "You were my closest friend, Dante. Can't we just go back to what it was?"
Dante's fingers closed on his very briefly, but he continued to stare ahead. "There is no going back. We can't remove Dominion's fragments without dying ourselves. It is death...or nothing."
"I don't want it to be like that," said Balthazar.
Dante smirked. "Who does."
And he released Balthazar then, standing up and taking a step up on the stairs. "I'm going to rest for a bit. My wound continues to pain me. That makes it imperative that you stay awake, Balthazar. "
"You know how to navigate the place?" said Balthazar, getting up and moving to follow him. He didn't really feel comfortable leaving Dante by himself. The injury was only going to get worse and he honestly felt like if an army of Tarana demons showed up on their doorstep, it was going to be over before it even started. At the same time, Balthazar didn't want to use Dante for his battle prowess alone.
And yet there was no denying, even injured, he was still a much more capable Will user and fighter than he was.
There was a dark taint here, and while Dante prided himself on being a shadow and being one with the darkness, maybe it wouldn't effect him positively either.
"Of course," said Dante, waving a dismissive hand. "This place is like a second home to me."
Hell, 1st Circle- P.R.I.D.E
"Dean, I'm about to get pruney here," Castiel complained lightly as the demon hugged him from behind. True to his word indeed, Dean had Castiel "pay" for that handprint he left on his shoulder. Still very red and raw even as it was under hot water from the shower in Dean's bedroom.
The bathroom steamed over when the water made contact with Dean's heated skin as he wrapped his arms around Castiel and squeezed.
"I'm surprised you even know what the word pruney means...or that you can even get it," said Dean, biting on Castiel's shoulder.
"I'm well informed," said Castiel coolly. " I thought you were getting dressed."
"Why would I do that...when you're naked?" Dean countered, pressing his lips very lightly to a soft patch of wet skin.
"Dean...I'm showering," Castiel murmured, but he leaned towards Dean's warmth anyway. He was certainly warmer than the water itself...and he was a decent conduit to keep the water nice and hot.
"Are you complaining?" Dean's voice was sharp and he turned Castiel around, pulled him close by the wrists until their chests flushed and Castiel felt Dean's heat even more so. Below he could feel his body's reaction to Dean instantly and just as Dean pulled him in for a kiss, Castiel groaned.
"Dean," He said, almost disapprovingly, pulling away from the kiss very reluctantly even as his lips made to chase Dean's. "Are you hoping to test the stamina of an angel?"
"Always," Dean grunted with a hard grind, pushing Castiel against the cold tile which made him shiver as Dean kissed him again.
There was a knock on the door that prevented them from doing anything more. Castiel went still against Dean's mouth, but Dean kept moving, hands splayed out on the tile on either side of him.
"Dean," He said with what little of his mouth he could use.
Dean growled, turning his cheek so Castiel got a full view of the black veins stretching down his neck to his heart. Still disturbing, and yet after being intimate with Dean, he found he was getting used to it.
"Go ahead," said Castiel. "I might actually get clean this time."
"Don't get used to it," Dean replied in that same gravelly tone as he pulled away fully and stepped outside the shower. This time he spoke loudly and in his normal voice, still intoned by that beast-like quality that Castiel noted from before. Maybe he was getting used to that too.
"What do you want?" Dean asked, and not very kindly.
"Your Majesty, Chimera has returned," said the demon outside. He sounded further than expected and that was because he was outside Dean's room, not within. Only the King himself, his demons or his Guardians were permitted to enter.
Dean pulled a silky black robe with gold threading off the hook on the door and slipped it on. "What...are we taking attendance, now? I don't care."
"He has something, Your Majesty. But he is injured. We have him in the new location. He says it is something you'll want to see for yourself," said the demon.
Dean scowled and turned his head in Castiel's direction. "Not the first time I've heard that bit."
"Do you need me?" Castiel asked, pausing in the act of running his hands through his hair.
"No," said Dean. "It's probably soap or something."
"Soap...," Castiel chuckled. "Do your demons not remember how to bathe from their human lives?"
"They remember," Dean conceded. "Doesn't mean they do it."
Castiel stared at Dean's back for a long moment, simply contemplating. But it was Dean's black and "veiny" condition that concerned Castiel in that moment. That show of darkness was only getting worse...Chicago was a testament to his new ruthless nature and then killing the president on live television and calling out Dante...Castiel found himself trying very much not to think about it all. Especially in these moments where it was just Dean and him. He could ignore the show of darkness that made it seem like the demon he once knew was buried deep inside.
At least, for the most part.
"Dean...What we're doing...It's all right, isn't it?"
Dean slowly turned to face him. "Angel..."
"I'm just saying," said Castiel, holding up his hands for a moment, then turning off the faucet so the water no longer ran over him. "I'm sorry...It's becoming bothersome, I know...All this though. It feels like it's still too much."
Dean drew close to him, stepped over the wet floor where he splashed slightly with his bare feet. "Angel...Come on. Of course we're doing the right thing. We're the good guys, remember? Stop torturing yourself with this...moral line you keep thinking you're crossing. You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine."
"Of course, you're right," said Castiel, sighing, patting Dean's shoulder as the demon came close and kissed down his neck where he suckled on the prominent vein there. He chuckled. "Dean."
"Fine. I'm going," said Dean, pulling away again. "I'll be back. You can sleep if you want. I'll be back soon."
"All right," said Castiel.
Dean walked back into the bedroom where he eyed the garments he had tossed aside. He removed the robe and pulled each item of black clothing on one by one, not bothering to fully dry his hair or his body. He instead walked outside the door where the demon was waiting for him. Not a Tarana demon. Just a normal Imperial who continued to kneel, his hand over his heart.
The demon stood up after a moment as Dean adjusted the collar of his jacket. Dean's face darkened into a scowl. "That's the third time Castiel has placed doubt in my actions. Third time."
The demon made no expression and Dean turned to face him fully. "This had better be worth the interruption. What did Chimera find?"
"You'll see," said the demon, beginning to lead Dean down the hall. "I'm very confident it will please you very much, Your Majesty."
Dean sighed. "Unless it's Dante's head on a stake...I'm very much not interested."
The demon said nothing, but a small smile began to show as he led Dean back into the throne room. There stood Chimera...in a pathetic state. Not only had he discarded of his human disguise, he was injured. The robes he had his army wear was ripped and bloodied, all the blood coming down from a pair of holes in his face where his eyes had been. It would have been a disgusting sight to anyone, especially since he had pulled the human skin on his face off and the injury seemed almost ten times more magnified. Chimera was not alone, however, there was a kneeling body in front of him with it's face covered by a black pillow cover.
"Chimera," said Dean, sliding away from the Imperial Demon and moving to sit on the throne in the usual lazy layabout he always took with one knee raised on the seat and his knuckles tucked under his chin. "Exploration of the new terrain did not go well, I can see. What have you brought me?"
Aside from the snarky comment, he made no other concern on Chimera's condition. In fact, he showed more annoyance than actual care for his demon. Chimera was easily replaceable, after all.
"I think you will be pleased with my find, Lord Tarana," said Chimera.
"Yes, everyone keeps saying that," said Dean irritably. "Get. On. With. It."
Chimera pulled the black pillow cover off the victim's face and Dean found himself staring down at Crowley. Crowley looked grotesque because of the burns from Carmen long ago...and in Chicago, Dean had only seen these scars in passing. Now they looked very prominent. A permanent grimace while the other still looked like him. He was handsome once...and he resembled Shadowalker with those dark eyes.
But now that Chimera had decently probably beaten him before bringing him here, the burnt half of his face and body looked particularly gruelsome. There was cuts down his cheeks, slash marks from a dagger and beads of sweat coming from his hair, making it look sweat-ridden and slightly lanky.
"Oh, if it isn't my old Guardian," said Dean, clasping his hands together.
Crowley's eyes slowly raised from the throne up to the face. When he finally came to a stop on Dean's face, he too, smiled. Except his smile looked painful, and his cracked lips seemed to bleed.
"This is pleasing. Look at you, Crowley," said Dean, sitting up slightly. "Not looking so hot. Was the journey here so unpleasant?"
"I had no prior desire to return to Hell, so you can imagine not," Crowley answered him in a croaky voice.
"No, I would imagine going to place where you'd likely be executed on sight wouldn't be the first choice for a vacation," said Dean dryly.
"Your arrogance and attachment to the throne has increased, I see," said Crowley, eyeing him with disdain.
Dean extended his arms as though stating the obvious. "I'm King, Crowley. You were never a king. You were a sovereign. You had your time and it was disastrous."
"Disastrous, was it?" Crowley repeated, amused. "I brought order to your so-called...'throne'. Haven't you noticed that your entire bloodline...Lucifer...Yourself...Carmen. You lead our people to inevitable destruction? Especially you, Dean. Flaunt your crown if you must, all you've ever done is try to conquer everything else. You simply cannot stand being considered weak, so you systematically destroy everyone else. First it was the Fallen, then your own Father...and now Dante, and what? Humanity as a whole after? It's pathetic. It's useless...and it's a waste of time and resources."
"I would watch my tongue, Crowley," said Dean, rising off his seat in one sweep. "You speak in the presence of Dominion."
"Of...Of Dominion? Sorry to break the news to you this way, Dean...But you are not Dominion. You're a fragment. Dominion's dead," said Crowley, adjusting himself on his knees so he could raise his head a few inches. "You would know that best of all, Memory."
Dean groaned. "Ugh...You sound like Dante and it is disgusting. I have some use for you, though Crowley. You're in luck."
"I'm literally quivering with excitement right now," said Crowley, rolling one eye.
"You should be," said Dean, linking his fingers together. "I've got three days...well...Two and a half, now...until your maker comes through the front door."
He pointed to the door which Crowley followed his finger with a scowl. "What makes you think he's going to come to you? Voluntarily? He hates you. Didn't you make a sweet little broadcast just now so the humans could-"
"Oh, you and I both know that he's hard to deny of his real nature. That was just a game. But if I know Dante...like you know Dante...then he'll be here on his own accord. I won't have to lift a finger to capture."
"You, on the other hand, Crowley...You're not so fortunate," said Dean, his eyes gleaming.
"Your Majesty, if you're going to kill me...Don't leave me in suspense...Just get on with it. This business of drawing out deaths is cliche...So...," said Crowley in a bored voice.
" You're not going to die right now, Crowley," said Dean, walking close until he came to a stop right in front of the other demon. He towered over him in a sinister manner. "You have a lot to inform me of...before you die."
"I'm not telling you anything," said Crowley venomously. "I don't owe you a damn thing. You're not my King. I owe you no loyalty."
Dean struck like a snake, both hands splayed on Crowley's head, which felt feverish under the touch. His fingertips felt the blaze of his skin, and he felt the sweat underneath. Dean rubbed his temples...gently...but not without implication of his threat. "What's inside your mind, what you know...is so very important to me. I do hope you're going to cooperate, Crowley...This is going to be so much fun."
