Impetus Rex

Jesse's head was spinning as he started walking back with Leon to the main room. A second Apocalypse? They had lied to him. They told him that they were going to set the world to rights, that they were going to restore the balance of the universe that Castiel and Crowley and the Winchesters had torn apart. They were going to re-establish a hierarchy in Heaven - Hell as well, the Angel had explained. That was why they had to work with the Demon. Without proper leadership, Hell was running wild and unchecked on Earth, and Heaven was too much in disarray to do anything about it. Jesse had believed them. Mostly because...why was it again that he had believed them? He frowned. They had told him that Sam and Dean had sent him on the wrong course. That he could have helped balance out everything before it got so out of control. They had made him feel guilty about leaving as he had. It was something that had always bothered Jesse. Did I make the right decision? Jesse looked over at Leon, who was watching him as if...

"I'm sorry," Jesse shook himself out of his reverie. "What were you saying?"

Leon shrugged and looked away. "Damn, man, nah, s'allright. Obviously you got more important stuff on your mind, huh?" He looked back at Jesse, squinting. "You really didn't hear a damn word I just said, did you?"

Jesse sighed. "Again, I'm sorry Leon...it's just...those two. Those three, really. What they were saying back there..."

Leon nodded. "That's what I was sayin', man. I don't like it."

"What was it...what was it that they told you to get you involved with this Leon?" Jesse figured that Leon might not want to volunteer that information, so he gave a subtle push to his subconscious.

Leon smiled. "It wasn't so big a deal. It's, the world, you know?"

Jesse frowned questioningly. "Huh? The world?"

Leon smiled. "Nah, they didn't promise me like the actual world or nothin' like that. It's just...the way it works, you know? The people in it. It's like, the bigger and badder you are, the more you can keep everyone down - and keep taking them down." Jesse nodded. Leon shrugged as they continued walking back.

"I got tired of it, man. Got tired of being kept down. Watchin' the strong get stronger. I asked, man, I prayed, I said ' I'll give anything, anything to be able to stop it. To make the bastards pay. I just need to be strong.' Next thing I know, I'm in some cemetery with those two, and they laid it all out for me. They'd give me the power to make things right. To take the fight to the ones that were really screwing things up. It sounded so simple, you know? It sounded so right."

"Castiel and Crowley," Jesse murmured. Leon looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah. They told me how they were trying to take over Heaven and Hell and what not. How the Winchesters and them just blasted through everyone to get what they wanted, no matter what the body count was. Somebody was causing all of this crap, someone had to be responsible. It made sense."

Jesse stopped and looked down at Leon. He scanned his face. He couldn't have been much older than fifteen, but in his eyes there was a deep pain.

"Why you, Leon?" Jesse asked.

"What?", Leon asked in return, cocking his head.

"Why you? What happened to make you want power that badly? "

Leon turned away, his shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, man, I shouldn't have pried," Jesse said after a minute.

"Nah, you know, s'ok," Leon replied, not looking back. "You wouldn't know."

"C'mon, let's get back to the others, I have some serious thinking to do," Jesse said, clapping Leon quickly on the back. Leon turned and smiled. They walked down the marble staircase and turned into a hallway leading back to the main parlor.

"It was my kid brother," Leon said quietly as they neared he entrance.

Jesse stopped and turned towards Leon, watching him closely.

"He was...ah man," Leon said haltingly, running a hand under his eye and taking a deep breath.

"It's no big deal, Leon, you don't have to..:"

"I mean, I got picked on. Mugged. You name it. I was always helpless. But the straw that broke my back...that was my kid brother. Darius. He was just walking home from practice is all," Leon continued, his eyes defiant. "His school was on the East side, not in the best neighborhood, if you get what I mean. New districts. My Mom and Dad...they fought the school board, but you know, rules are rules, right?" Jesse nodded. Leon looked out a stained glass window onto a side garden, putting both hands on the medium sized window seat there. "Yeah, anyways, he wasn't doing nothin, you know? But the way home goes through some rough hood. Cops sometimes patrol there. And one day, they see this kid WWB heading down the street, big overstuffed backpack..."

"WWB?", Jesse asked.

"Walking While Black," Leon smiled, tight lipped. Tears were already welling up again in his eyes. "They just flew up to him like he was mugging someone, man. Patrol car jumping the curb. Hands on guns when they came out. My brother...he had no idea what to do. He froze. They kept yelling at him to get on the ground. He tried, but the backpack...I guess it was too heavy. He tried to take it off..." Leon choked up and turned away, taking deep breaths.

"What happened Leon?", Jesse asked reluctantly. He didn't want to press, but Leon seemed to want to get this out.

"They said in their report that they thought he was going for a weapon. A weapon. Did they see something? No. Did he even open the goddamned pack? No. Reach inside? No. He couldn't get down on the ground fast enough, man – that's all. They...Darius..." Leon took another deep breath and turned back to Jesse, eyes full of fury. "Twenty times, man. They shot him twenty times. Probably made the headlines Down Under where you were, too. You know what was in the pack, man?" Jesse shook his head. "A French Horn. My brother, he was terrible with that damned thing..." he cut off as his tears started back up again. "But no, he was determined, so determined to get it right. He just wanted to play in the band, man."

Jesse nodded, understanding. "Leon, I'm sorry."

Leon sniffed and straightened up, forcing a disarming smile onto his face. "Don't be, man. Be sorry for what I did about it." His face contorted into a toothy, aggressive smile, full of pain. "I just made it worse is all. I wanted revenge. Payback. And...yeah. I let them in, Jess- I let them in, and I became something worse than those cops ever were."

"Don't say that, Leon...", Jesse, said, placing a hand on Leon's shoulder.

"No, it's true!," Leon spat back, slapping the hand away. "How many, Turner? How many people are dead, or worse because of me?"

Jesse sighed, and stared right back in Leon's eyes. "Not because of you, Leon. Think. You were in pain, and those two took advantage of that. They're the ones to blame for this, Leon. Not you. They twisted you around. They almost did the same to me." Jesse looked back into the main room before turning back to Leon. "Leon, how well do you know the others? Did...did any of them also have stuff like this happen to them?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah, man, all of 'em. Real collection in there."

"No more, Leon..:" Jesse said, his voice nearly a whisper. "No more. I don't know what these bastards' game is, but it's over. Look, can you tell me who else in there would be most willing to help us?"

Leon nodded slowly.

"Good. Because we're going to need to do some fighting. And the more people that we have, the better."


The Impala roared into a spot in front of the Bunker where the grass had been flattened and was beginning to retreat away from several oil stains. It's engine ticked rhythmically as it cooled down. Sam and Dean climbed out, Dean moving around to pop open the trunk. He hauled out a large duffel bag of supplies and sighed, looking at Sam, who watched him, his typical worried look on his face. Dean smiled tightly.

"Home sweet home," he said, walking towards the Bunker entrance.

They walked in and stopped short in the entranceway.

"Sammy, did you leave the lights on?", Dean asked cautiously. He looked at Sam, noted the alarm on his face, and dropped the pack, drawing his pistol in one smooth motion. Sam already had the Demon Knife out and a pistol in his other hand.

They moved silently down the steps, looking into the side rooms and library. They did a full circuit before working their way to the control center, checking the video feeds and various motion alarms. It was all clear. Dean looked at Sam, puzzled, and they both nodded and tucked their weapons away, moving into the main room.

Two figures stood on the walkway above them.

"So, I heard that you two are out of the game," one of the figures called down to them in a mocking tone. "Can't have that now, can we?"

"What the hell...!" Dean cursed in surprise, his 9mm coming out in a blur. He trained it on them and squinted.

"How in the hell did you get in here?", Sam called out. "This Bunker is warded!"

The two figures glanced at each other. Their faces were in shadow, but their eyes glowed. One with white eyes, the other with red. The one with the red eyes shrugged. He started moving slowly, menacingly down the stairs with his partner.

"Not from us. You see, the Men of Letters were a lot of things; protectors, but also arrogant. Cautious, but also cocky. And, most of all, well-defended, but not psychic." The two reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. The Demon smiled.

"They never saw us coming."


Castiel sighed and looked up as Crowley walked into the office's library. Crowley was pale. Castiel frowned.

"Crowley...?"

Crowley gave his head a small shake, his eyes focusing. "Ah, yes, Castiel," he grunted, re-establishing his typical air of nonchalant superiority. "How is the research coming?"

Castiel frowned, getting up from the long table where he had been sitting, closing the large book in front of him. "Fine," he replied curtly. "Crowley, is everything...?"

"No history of Suriel ever interfering in human affairs? Appearances? Manifestations? Direct action?"

Castiel moved closer, trying to look Crowley in the eyes, but Crowley kept looking away. "No...", he answered. "Not a single one. After the fall in the Garden of Eden, and the first human death – Abel – Suriel became a recluse. She gave up the mantle of death and retreated to her own corner of Heaven. She hasn't been seen until now. Why?"

Crowley blinked, finally turning his eyes towards Castiel. He frowned and took a step back. "Castiel. Personal space. I thought you've been told about that."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Crowley, what's going on? You look like..."

Crowley shook his head slightly, his eyes showing no emotion. "It's nothing. Some bad news. It can wait. Nothing to concern you at the moment." He shoved his hands in his suit pockets and strode away. "What is of immediate concern, however, is Suriel. And, to be more specific, her motivations."

Castiel frowned. "Why is it an immediate concern?"

"Did she ever say why it was that she gave up the mantle of death after Abel's murder?"

Castiel lowered his head and shook it. "Not this again..."

Crowley nodded. "I see. So the rumors are not completely unfounded."

"They're just rumors, Crowley. No one ever substantiated anything..."

"Because several Scriptures state..."

"It wasn't Suriel, Crowley," Castiel said, voice rising. "It was another. One of the Fallen."

Crowley shrugged. "Don't kill the messenger. I'm just trying to make sense of that particular section of Biblical nonsense. It's like it's on purpose, you know what I mean? There are over five different variations on the spelling of her name, and a million different functions and titles, depending on which Holy Book you happen to be subscribing to at the time." He scratched at his beard. "Someone seems to be hiding something there Castiel. That's all that I'm saying."

Castiel let out an exaggerated sigh. "Go ahead, Crowley, say it."

Crowley stepped closer, head to the side. "It's just that, one of the more prominent versions mentions that the Archangel Sariel, spelled slightly differently, at least in the Book of Enoch, can be associated with providing wisdom to man. Sort of like a Judeo-Christian version of Prometheus."

Castiel looked up patiently, his face calm.

"It also mentions something about her, or him, again, according to which book you're reading, being associated to Metatron...or that she could actually be Metatron."

Castiel snorted.

"Thank you for joining the conversation. I will presume that means that you disagree," Crowley replied.

"Crowley, you've actually met Metatron. In person. You've seen the energy patterns. Do you think that he's Suriel?"

Crowley smiled. "Just trying to sort the wheat from the chaff, Castiel, that's all. I do find it curious, however, that Suriel would be considered in that regard. Don't you?"

"I already know where you're going with this Crowley, and..."

"Because the rumors of her sharing knowledge with mankind were because of a particularly interesting reason, I find." Crowley continued, cutting Castiel off. "The best reason of all..." he said, moving to stand closer to Castiel, who glared at him. "Love."

Castiel shook his head and paced away angrily. "Those are the exact same rumors that drove Suriel away in the first place."

"Touched a nerve, Castiel?"

Castiel stared back. "What do you think, Crowley? One of the most powerful and respected Angels in Heaven, driven away by petty gossip. We were all of us weakened by that."

Crowley nodded sympathetically. "And what if some of it were actually true, to a degree?"

Castiel's eyes flashed with fury. Then his shoulders slowly slumped. "I...what is your point, Crowley?"

"I'm just trying to figure out how much trouble I'm in," Crowley replied.

"What are you talking about?"

Crowley strode forward, looking at the floor. "It means, sunshine, that Suriel has just summoned me to a meeting. In Heaven. And she did not sound , shall we say, cheery about it. Now, considering the light of recent events, I would like to know if there is any extra motivation for her to dislike me, say, for instance, like we just killed her ex-boyfriend?"

Castiel stared at Crowley for a minute before he nodded slowly, reluctantly. "I understand. Crowley. All I can promise you is this; Suriel took on the most undesirable job that Heaven had. She bore that burden until she could bear it no longer. If she is actually mourning Abel's death, that will not distract her from her present duty. There is a direct edict from God that we must be allowed to complete our mission. Being an Archangel, Suriel has no choice but to follow that order, no matter how much pain she's in."

Crowley watched him carefully for a minute before sighing loudly. "It'll have to do then. Shame I can't bring you along for support...but rules are rules, it seems." He shrugged his shoulders and straightened his suit jacket. "Well then, Castiel, it appears that I've been summoned to the principal's office. Let's see how much detention I end up getting."