Chapter 9
Suffering is part of the divine idea – Henry Ward Beecher
S-S-S-S-S
Sam's thoughts swirled around and around. The First Blade, Crowley, and the Mark of Cain. What was happening to his brother?
Furthermore, what was happening with Cas? The angel didn't even have time to give Sam a quick update on Dean now. Not that Sam deserved to keep tags on his brother – Sam was a grade A prick.
But still…
He pulled up the contact list on his phone and pushed on Dean's name. The ringing went on until Sam was dumped in voicemail.
"This is Dean's other phone – if I'm not answering this one, just leave a message," came the pre-recorded voice.
Beep.
"Dean, its Sam. I… Okay, so I don't really know what to say aside from I was wrong. I would save you – I know I would, you were right. I was just being a douche-canoe. So, call me?" Sam ended the call and rolled his eyes at how lame he was.
The only thing that would have been dorkier is if he'd said call me maybe.
S-S-S-S-S
Dean took a deep breath and on the exhale he pulled the trigger. The target set up at the edge of the field showed another clean shot in the center of the concentric circles; it wasn't like he had a hell of a lot to do while Crowley worked out the final details on killing Abaddon.
Crowley was a complete waste of space – taking the blade like that.
"Far be it for me to point out to a man with a gun, but your aim is off slightly from true center," Cain said from behind the hunter.
"Damn it Cain, don't sneak up on me like that!" Dean realized he seemed to say that to an awful lot of supernatural beings. It might be possible he needed to be a little more aware of his surroundings.
"I have news from the cage – if you're interested?"
"Wait – the cage? As in the one with Lucifer in Hell? How?" Dean asked.
"Knight of Hell; I go where I please," Cain looked vaguely smug.
"Was Adam there?" Dean asked without thinking. Sam wasn't his only brother, but the poor kid wasn't raised with them. It felt weird calling him brother or family when those words had so much wrapped around it right now.
"Who?" Cain frowned. "There were only two in the cage. Lucifer and Michael. It was an interesting afternoon."
"I've been wondering – I know why I want Abaddon gone, but why do you?" Cain asked.
"She's evil; really that's enough for me," Dean shrugged. What a stupid question.
"So you're on Heaven's side?"
"Not really. They're a bunch of dicks," the hunter frowned. This was almost as bad as 'feelings'.
"So why side with Crowley? He's almost as evil as Abaddon – King of Hell and all," Cain pointed out.
Dean took a second to pause and gather his thoughts. Yes, Crowley was evil, but he was a necessary evil. Like a white lie – you did it but you weren't bothered by it because it didn't really do much damage in the end.
Though Crowley actually could do damage…
"Because both Heaven and Crowley want the bitch dead. Enemy of my enemy is my frienemy," Dean grinned. "Crowley is least of two evils in this case."
"Heaven wants Abaddon to win," Cain frowned in confusion at Dean.
"No they don't. Why would they want her in charge? She'd go after the Host – Crowley just kind of runs his little kingdom down under and leaves the angels alone."
"No," the Knight of Hell shook his head. "If Abaddon wins, the war will start back up. They don't like the status quo Crowley's keeping – the war would heat back up giving the Host something to fight. They're as much a bunch of war seeking idiots as Hell."
"That's complete bullshit," Dean seethed. It couldn't be right. Unfortunately, the words rang a little too true. "Whoever said Man was God's most beloved was a liar – we're his favorite fucking punching bag!"
Cain didn't answer, but gave a small shrug as if to say he didn't disagree. Dean always knew he was being played by Crowley; the angels played them as well, but at least Dean thought the angels were supposed to be protectors or some shit.
"There's just no upside in any of this is there? Not for humans anyway," Dean concluded.
"According to history? No. However, you and your brother seem to relish doing the unexpected," Cain said. Brother? Not so much. But it wasn't worth it to correct the Knight of Hell.
"Yeah," Dean said. "We like to fuck their plans up. What about you though?"
"Me?" Cain asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes you. You were human once. How could you let them use you to destroy so much of humanity in the name of Lucifer?" Dean asked. It had been bugging him that Cain didn't fight the good fight.
"Not all of us were as… noble as the Winchesters," the first son of Adam and Eve said.
Dean tapped his foot as he looked around the empty clearing. Monsters wanted humans dead, ghosts wanted to haunt them, demons tried to possess them, and angels wanted to use them as pawns.
Dean held the gun up towards the sky and pushed the release to eject the empty magazine before reloading.
He checked the safety was on before handing it to Cain.
"Show me what you got Mr. Knight," Dean smirked as he thought carefully about what Cain had said. The man, or knight, or whatever hadn't said anything that Dean himself hadn't worried about in the back of his mind. Heaven was full of angels, and as had been established multiple times, angels were a huge bag of dicks.
Hell rooting for Abaddon wasn't a shocker either – the demons respected power. If Crowley appeared weak, they would follow Abaddon. If the bitch was gone, they'd happily follow Crowley again.
Demons were easy that way – they had no concept of loyalty and could be counted on to support the strongest.
Cain unloaded two shots and looked at the gun as if something was wrong. Yeah buddy; it was the gun that didn't aim straight.
This was the part when Dean usually relied on Sam. The floppy haired giant was amazingly good at putting pieces together into a plan. Sometimes. Usually. He would make connections with this new information about Heaven and have a plan in a freakishly short amount of time.
Too bad he was… out of the picture. Not that Dean missed Samantha or anything.
Sam was the Betrayer and had shrugged Dean off like an old musty coat.
"This gun is broken," Cain said with a frown.
"The gun is fine – you're just in the habit of using your powers," Dean said as he wiggled his fingers to indicate magic.
"Speaking of powers – you never asked me why I went to visit the cage," Cain pointed out.
"Figured you'd either tell me or not," Dean shrugged a little. At Cain's frown, Dean gave a sigh and added, "Fine, why did you do to see the two biggest angelic dicks to ever exist?"
"I… Are you suggesting I saw their penises?" Cain looked horrified.
"What? No!" Dean mentally replayed what he said. "Why did you go see the archangels who also happen to act like giant bags of dicks?"
"I found out why you're able to control the rage," Cain said and took aim again.
"And?"
"Because of your extraordinary adherence to free will. Most humans are easily led – the Winchester brothers are only led by some twisted sense of 'right'," the first brother replied. "To be honest, either of them were quite sure what that meant, just that it didn't serve their needs."
"Hmm," True, they had never really done what people or any supernatural being thought they would. It was sort of their thing.
"Incoming," Cain muttered as he sat the gun down.
"Dean," Cas said as he appeared behind Dean. Son of a bitch – could that angel not land anywhere but almost up in Dean's ass?
"Cas," Dean said without turning around.
"I need to talk to you."
"That so? Then talk," Dean shot a considering look at Cain. "Actually, I got a question – Cas, does the Host want Abaddon to win?"
"I do not see how –" Cas stopped. "They would not be upset if Abaddon won. I did manage to convince the Host to not actively get involved. It was difficult."
"Difficult," the hunter seethed. People were spoon fed stories about how good the angels were and yet… Dean took a deep breath and pushed down the ever present rage.
S-S-S-S-S
It was only the practice of millennia that stopped Cain from taking a step back. The Righteous man was angry – the power bleeding from him was staggering. Cain remembered the beginning when he would consumed with it. Sometimes months would pass before he could gain any semblance of control.
The mark was burning under Dean's skin. The angel didn't notice it, but that sigil had sat on Cain for too long to go unnoticed – even on another Knight.
Even though Dean didn't act like it, he would become a Knight of Hell. There was nothing to stop the Mark from taking over in the end.
"Damn it Cas," Dean muttered as he took a deep breath. The Mark screamed its displeasure with being kept in check.
"Dean, it is very important that you not get sidetracked," the angel continued.
Cain snorted. That winged idiot had zero sense of self preservation.
"You understand Dean could end you with barely more than a thought right now don't you?" Cain asked as he picked the gun again and checked the sight. At this point after the Mark had been seared into his flesh he'd been a mess. No sleep, shaking with rage, and visions of blood playing nonstop on a loop in his mind.
"Dean would never-"
"Dean is Marked. The only thing holding him back from whatever torture is surely running through his mind is his free will. If that were to slip for even a moment…," Cain shrugged.
If Cain had been a fraction of the man Dean was he wouldn't have needed Lucifer to control himself. He wouldn't have needed that purpose the Morning Star had given him. Kill, avenge, torture. That's all there had been.
Dean's free will was used for a different purpose, but just as strong. Protect the innocent.
How different they were.
S-S-S-S-S
It was strange; never before had Dean been the one planning at this level. He'd tried to learn chess from Bobby, but his strategy of a full frontal attack always meant a quick loss. Loosing wasn't an option right now. Too many humans were at risk.
All of them.
Looking around the farm house it was clear he needed to talk Cain again. Once Cas had dropped the bomb of Heaven's real plan, Dean had left to cool off.
Stupid fucking angels. Stupid fucking demons. There was a point when a man had to forge his own path – which led to him sitting with paper in front of him, a pen drawing doodles as he thought. Swirls that he filled in like a stained glass.
First, what did he want? That was an easy one. He wanted peace between Heaven and Hell so they would stop using the Earth as a battlefield. The pen drew a peace sign; it was the dated sigil that had lost all meaning.
Dad had taught them how to make sigils. Not overly powerful ones, but they had all been simple hunters back then. There had been no power to back them up – some sigils were beautiful and complex, but the ones Dean had learned to make were just stacking things that stood for something.
An oval stood for the Heaven and the angels that wore them. Yeah, not so much. The triangle with a line through it stood for the wedge Lucifer had caused. The line was a small arrow to stand for the fall from grace.
Actually, Dean wanted humans safe. He didn't care how it happened. Let Heaven and Hell burn. Ha. Hell burning! He drew little flames licking up the side of a cage with two figures in it. He tossed some wings on the figures.
How did you keep a planet safe from supernatural forces? Hunting had always worked before the apocalypse; that had started to confuse things. Suddenly it was personal sacrifice and souls and all kinds of torture. Loosing things. Loosing Bobby – his father in every way that counted; a mentor that taught him to be a man and stand up for what's right.
Dean moved his pen and kept doodling.
The name Winchester had been striking fear in Heaven and Hell for a while now – it might be time to think as his own man instead of part of a team of two.
D. E. A. N.
Soon it would be the only thing he would be known by – one syllable to strike terror in anything.
Dean.
His pen flew over the paper. A sigil – he needed to figure one out that was fast and easy to sign his work. Abaddon had been sending him messages for years – it was time to send one back.
Nothing left to figure out now except what he wanted the combined forces of Heaven and Hell to pay to him now. Pay everyone back - for the pain they had inflicted on humanity for so long. He'd paid a price and he was going make sure they would feel the pain of Dean's loss a hundred fold. A thousand.
Dean had a plan, and all he needed was some more information from Cain. He tore the last sigil from the page of doodles and folded it before tucking it in his wallet.
He'd need to practice a few times before trying it in the heat of battle. And he had every intention of using it quite a bit.
S-S-S-S-S
Cain frowned. No way was he going to drink what Dean put on the table between them.
"It's good, I promise," Dean gave an encouraging smile.
"I don't know you well enough to know if your promise is worth much right now," the Knight replied. The Dean of old was honorable, but this was a newly made weapon wearing Dean's face…
"It's called a Pickleback. Come on – after you try it you'll know if I'm trustworthy, right?" Dean picked up his own shot of Jameson and tilted his head back pouring the liquid down. Before he was even done swallowing, the shot of pickle juice followed.
He was crazy. A crazy smiling madman.
"Look, I get that a mixed drink is for girls like Sam, but it's okay with this one because it's a chaser," Dean said. The mere mention of his brother showed that he'd tossed more than a few back before Cain arrived.
"Wait – do you drink fruit shit?" Dean looked horrified. It was as if the man's whole opinion of Cain was based on what he drank.
"You're ridiculous," Cain huffed before following Dean's example.
Oh.
"Good, right?"
"Stop gloating; it's not a good look on you."
"Everything is a good look on me," Dean smirked.
Cain raised an eyebrow. This was the most relaxed he'd seen Dean since receiving the Mark. He seemed lighter somehow. Interesting – Surprising. That's exactly what Michael and Lucifer told him though; the only thing you could expect from a Winchester was for them to never do what was expected.
"So, I'm trying to figure out these powers," the man didn't even bother testing the waters before jumping in the deep end.
"I assumed," Cain nodded. "It's complicated."
"This isn't Facebook man. Right, so… Tell me what the Mark does? What kind of crap can I do – how much power do I have at my fingertips?" Dean wiggled his fingers. "I want to know before I go in to kick some red headed bitch ass."
"It's… All three of us can do things like sense the supernatural. We can move things, banish, and force our will on lesser beings. Really that includes everything save archangels." Cain stopped for a moment. There was a pull in the back of his mind. Something just decided to drop in on this little get together and it most likely wasn't for the excellent drinks.
"We all have our own specialties. I can change the passage of time in small increments. No more than a few seconds at a time – though a few seconds can change everything," he explained. An angel. It was an angel standing to the side. Dean hadn't felt him yet, which meant it was of some power.
"That's amazing – time bending. What about the bitch?" Dean asked while looking at his fingers.
"Abaddon can call specialized demons that don't need vessels. They can't be exorcised and they don't die easily. When I say that I mean even angels have trouble with them," Cain explained. Castiel. Little Angel of Thursday was proving as surprising as the Winchesters.
"Angels have trouble killing them. When the angel lays hands on them, instead of standing still as the light cleanses them, they struggle and can attack the angel while he is vulnerable," he paused as Dean nodded.
Time to have their uninvited guest join them.
"Right Castiel?" Cain asked over his shoulder.
"Cas?" Dean asked. The hunter clearly hadn't sensed the angel was nearby.
"He's here. Hidden well, but listening. Manifest angel," Cain demanded.
In the blink of an eye the angel stood before them looking rather rattled at having been caught. Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head back until he faced the sky. Like a prayer to the Heavens for mercy. Judging by the look Dean was shooting at him, Castiel had reason to look contrite and repentant.
"Spying? Seriously Cas?"
Cain sat back and hid a smile. Time to see where this pawn would be played on the board.
S-S-S-S-S
AN:
Pickleback: a very real drink that I had a half dozen soccer-moms slamming on New Year's after my brother in law got he to try it. We drank a fifth of pickle juice taking half shots after full whiskey shots. Try it – seriously. You will thank me. Well, later you will. When you can type again.
Pawn: The smallest and least valuable chess piece. Until it's not. It's either sacrificed to advance your game, or it's part of your strategy to gaining a second Queen.
On a personal note - I'm not done writing, but some encouragement wouldn't come amiss right about now. It's been a really hard year.
