Chapter Nine "Death's Door"
The big guy has been gone for a while when the calm one finally leaves his post against the opposite wall. Dean is having a hard time seeing straight. When the cutting didn't get the desired result out of Dean, the big guy had resorted to hitting him with rock hard fists. Dean has a feeling the guy was going easy to avoid killing him. He could feel his ribs cracking, and he's pretty sure some things are out of joint.
As it is, Dean is not excited to find out just what the silent one has in mind, but when he reaches out his hand with an undeniable look of compassion in his eyes, Dean knows.
"Don't," he manages to say. Taking enough breath to speak sends knives of pain through his torso.
The angel draws his hand back. "Why would you not want to be healed?" He speaks in a soft voice, almost too refined.
"Just so you can mess me up again?"
The angel nods. "I see. That makes sense." His sympathy seems to deepen if that's even possible. "They would only hurt you more. Perhaps they will kill you. Relieve you of pain forever."
That actually sounds really nice to Dean right about now. He has to remind himself that he's still got a reason to live, and he's made a promise. "What's pain?" Dean scoffs.
The angel gets a look of sadness in his eyes so deep, Dean can't help believing it's real. "There are some things no one can endure without losing a part of themselves."
What is he talking about? Is that a threat? "What're you gonna do to me?" Dean asks because he might as well know.
"Nothing. If you do not want me to heal you. That is all I can offer you at the moment."
"Who are you?" Dean has a feeling there's something more going on here than a bunch of grumpy angels out for revenge.
"It does not matter. I am no one."
"Why would you want to help me?"
The angel stares into Dean's eyes, making him want to look away, but he won't. "I believe we are, at heart, compassionate beings. We have forgotten." He stares at the blood and bruises, and Dean wonders if angels can cry because it looks like that's where this is going. "There is so much needless suffering. I cannot make it end on my own."
Wait, is he trying to make some kind of alliance? "What do you want?" Dean asks.
"Later," the angel says. "I will do what I can for you. You must have some patience yet."
The angel leaves the room, and Dean is more confused than he was before the guy started talking. Why would he be here if he wants to help? Is he a spy in Bartholomew's ranks? Is he trying to gain Dean's trust to find Castiel? Dean is pretty sure they call that psychological torture which he's never been all that good at. It takes too much time. Which means he also doesn't know how to fight it. He decides then that he won't speak to the quiet angel anymore. If he doesn't say anything, he can't accidentally lead them to Cas.
None of this helps with his still non-existent escape plan, and Dean finds himself hoping that the angel was telling the truth. That he wants to help. Because Dean could use some help right about now.
~oOo~
The neighborhood seems bigger than it did when Castiel walked halfway around it earlier. Maybe the angels are just walking slowly to unnerve them. It must be odd for them, he thinks, to have to deal with humans in this capacity. Even odder, Castiel doesn't feel all that strange not being an angel. He can't believe he's getting used to humanity. It's about to be over anyway.
They take a meandering route toward the center of the subdivision, through block after block of empty ghosts of homes that never were. It's an eerie feeling, and Castiel isn't sure why. Perhaps the vacant buildings remind him too much of the four vacant bodies that exist together in an underground shelter. He never thought of emptiness this way before. That they are all living in some kind of between stage, not dead yet, but well on their way. Or in Castiel's case, nearly there.
He has abandoned all hope of them getting out of this alive. He is certain of his own demise and suspicious of Crowley and Dean's. Maybe they'll get out. Maybe Dean will keep holding onto life for Kevin's sake. Castiel can't bear to think of him doing so for Crowley.
They eventually arrive at a more finished house in the middle of a block. The windows still have stickers on them. Once inside, Castiel notes the absence of any furniture or fixtures. He wonders if this is really where they are keeping Dean. The location spell did lead them here, so he must be close.
Crowley stops in the entryway, and stands between Castiel and the angels. "Where is he?" he says.
"This way," the head angel gestures toward a hallway.
Crowley doesn't move. "I think we've come far enough."
"You offered us a trade. Do you want to collect your half?" the angel leaves no room for argument, and Castiel is feeling less confident about any of them surviving this. Which is not part of his plan.
"Where is your leader?" Castiel says. He knows he's just a prisoner at this point, but he hopes Crowley will back him up. They don't have much leverage right now, other than their angel blades and a couple of flasks of holy oil tucked into their pockets. Not much against three full powered angels.
"Out," the angel says. "He has more important concerns than one pathetic traitor."
"Then why bother?"
"Your friend just made it so easy. I suspect he's losing his mind after his brother's death. Apparently humans are susceptible to such things."
Castiel feels the strange sensation of wanting to punch the angel in the face. He thinks Dean would be proud of that.
"Lovely as it's been," Crowley says, "I do have to be on my way, so why don't you bring Dean out, and we can leave?"
The angel nods to the other two, who don't go into the hallway, but rather approach with their eyes on Castiel. They can't afford to fight back just now. Not when Dean isn't in sight.
Castiel feels their hands gripping too tightly to his arms to prevent his escape.
"Is this really necessary?" Crowley complains.
"If you want the Winchester, come get him," the angel says.
There's no other choice. Crowley has to go. He has to go through with the deal, and Castiel is shocked to see a flicker of remorse in his expression.
"Fine," Crowley agrees, faking a smile. "But I don't want this one out of my sight until I get what I came for." He points at Castiel.
The angel relents. "Bring him."
The four of them move into the hallway, head angel first, then Crowley, with Castiel and his jailers bringing up the rear. They come out into a small sitting room with a door across from them. The angel opens the door to what looks like it was intended to be a bathroom. Castiel can't see from this angle, but he feels a shudder of contempt rolling off Crowley as the door opens.
"Bad form," Crowley says, barely containing his anger. "Trading me damaged goods?"
Damaged goods.
Pulling against the grasp of the two angels, Castiel finally gets a look at Dean as they move closer, and it's surprising he's even alive. His body is covered in cuts and bruises. Blood soaks through his clothing and still oozes from some of the deeper wounds. His eyes are closed, and he's barely breathing. So many reactions go through Castiel's mind, but he can't physically do anything. His arms are pinned. He's helpless.
So, he settles for words. "Son of a bitch." It doesn't sound the same coming from him, but it works. "You didn't have to hurt him!"
"I didn't," the lead angel said. "Bartholomew's thugs took care of that."
"Bartholomew?" Suddenly it starts to make sense.
"Yes. Though why he thought to ally with Gadreel is beyond me."
Gadreel. The deserter. It's at this moment that Castiel decides he will do whatever it takes to get Dean and Crowley out. He'll die fighting. No surrender here.
By now, Crowley has moved into the small room, looking Dean over with a dark gaze. Castiel is close enough he can smell the blood, amongst other unpleasant things in the room. Seeing Dean chained and bleeding made Castiel want to vomit and kill something all at once. He settles for giving a meaningful look at Crowley and hoping he notices.
He does.
Before the angels know what's happening, Crowley has reached into his jacket for his angel blade and stabbed backward at the lead angel. He doesn't pause for breath as he pulls the blade forward and flings it with uncanny precision at the angel on Castiel's right.
With one arm free, Castiel reaches for his own blade, but before he can get his hand around it, he feels cold metal at his throat. The element of surprise has evaporated. Crowley is unarmed, save a little holy oil, which will definitely kill Castiel as well as the angel holding a blade to his jugular. It is a sacrifice Castiel is willing to make.
Do it, he thinks. Just do it, and get Dean out of here.
But Crowley hesitates. They have failed. Castiel is just beginning to taste the bile rising up in his mouth at the thought of giving up when he feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. The angel releases his grip on Castiel and falls backward. As Castiel turns to see what's happened, he notices a blade sticking through the angel's chest and a tall man behind him, holding the handle of said blade.
There is a moment of stunned silence before the man steps forward and breaks Dean's chains with a mere flick of his hand. "You must go now. I will hold them off," he says.
"Who are you?" Castiel asks.
"Some other time. Run. Now."
Castiel turns back to see Crowley leaning over to lift Dean to his feet. As he does so, there are sounds of a scuffle coming from the direction of the entryway. Their mysterious savior has vanished. Castiel moves to help Crowley, and they drag a half conscious Dean through the opposite door they came in. Thankfully, they soon come upon a back door and pick up speed as they duck between the ghost houses.
Any moment, Castiel is sure the other angels will catch up to them, and they will all be killed. But the enemy never comes. The trip to the car goes much faster than the one to the house, but it feels longer with Dean weighing them down, his blood smearing over their hands and clothing. Crowley bemoans the cost of dry cleaning. The humor keeps Castiel running if nothing else.
They reach the car and half collapse as Crowley lessens his hold to reach for the back passenger door, and Castiel falls under Dean's weight.
Lying on the ground, bleeding, taking painful shallow breaths, Dean looks worse than Castiel has ever seen him.
"Cas.." he speaks in a faint voice, and Castiel finds himself mesmerized. "It's okay, Cas..." What is he saying? "Everything's... gonna be okay."
Castiel isn't sure why Dean feels the need to reassure him until his eyes slip closed, and his breathing halts. Last words. Comfort. A goodbye.
Castiel doesn't know when his fists dig into Dean's shirt and he begins shaking the man so hard that blood pours over his hands. It's only when Crowley grabs him by the shoulder and wrenches him away that Castiel recognizes what he's doing.
Crowley doesn't say anything, but leans over and puts his fingers on Dean's neck. What does that mean? Some kind of test? Castiel can't remember for the life of him.
"He's still alive, you moron," Crowley says. "Help me get him in the car before he really bleeds to death."
I kind of suck at action scenes, but I think this part turned out okay. I suppose it's more about the emotion of it anyway. I think the next chapter is my favorite so far, so be sure to come back next week. It's going to be amazing. I hope.
