Thanks to Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for beta'ing and pre-reading. Love you ladies xxx
Chapter Nine
Castiel was a child.
He was a hero, too. He'd saved Sam from Hell, and that was a debt Dean would never be able to repay, but there were things he just didn't get:like Sam. Like when Sam pushed away his plate and asked, "So, what did I miss?" the correct response was, "Nothing, Sam." Castiel didn't get that.
It wouldn't have satisfied Sam at first, but they could have distracted him with stories of Bobby's hunts and maybe more food and beer. Dean knew Bobby would have been onboard with that plan—he knew what Sam needed almost as well as Dean did—but before they could get a word in, Castiel spoke up and dropped the 'I am at war with Raphael' bomb.
"You mean civil war?" Sam said in an awed tone.
Castiel nodded. "Yes. Raphael and his followers want him to rule Heaven. That is the last thing I and my followers want."
"And if he rules…" Sam said.
"Then the apocalypse will be recommenced. Michael and Lucifer will be freed, and the whole dread mess will start again."
Dean expected Sam to look afraid, freaked, at least worried, but Sam's expression was a mask. Dean wasn't used to that. He could always read Sam by his face. He knew when Sam was hurting, when he was lying, when he was upset. He knew it all just by looking, even if he didn't know the reasoning behind it, but he couldn't see anything now.
Hell, Dean'd had more of a reaction than Sam, and he wasn't just sprung from the cage. If anything, Sam should be the most freaked of them all.
"I will not allow it to happen," Castiel said, and Dean noticed he wasn't speaking to them all, he was addressing Sam.
"How are you going to stop him?" Sam asked.
Castiel sighed. "I do not know, but I will find a way. I must."
"Well, anything we can do, Cas…" Sam said. "You've just got to ask."
Dean nodded his agreement. He would do whatever he could to help. Not just because it was the world at stake, again, but because this was Castiel's fight and Dean owed him.
Castiel looked at them one by one, coming to rest on Sam's face. He smiled slightly. "That is no less than I would expect from you, Sam, from any of you, but this is one fight you cannot join. It's too dangerous."
Dean frowned. "So we're supposed to just sit back and let you risk your neck alone?"
"I am not alone," Castiel said serenely. "I have a host of angels at my command."
"You know what I mean," Dean said dismissively. "We can't just…" He trailed off. He didn't know what to say.
Castiel smiled. "You can, Dean. You have to. It is not safe for you to be involved."
Things had never been safe for them. They were the ones that put themselves at risk for other people. That was the point.
"Dean," Castiel said gently. "This time, it is not your fight."
Did that matter? It was true that the big fights they had come up against had been personal, Azazel, Lilith and Lucifer; they had all ties to the Winchesters which had made it their responsibility to deal with them. This was Castiel's fight, but he was family too.
"It is," he said firmly.
Castiel opened his mouth to reply but Sam caught his eye. His head had snapped up as if someone had called his name. Dean hadn't heard anything though. Sam was looking at Castiel now, and there was a look of intense concentration on the angel's face as he looked back at Sam.
"I have to leave," Castiel said regretfully. "I will come back as soon as I can." Dean noticed that he seemed to be speaking only to Sam again.
Sam nodded. "Okay."
Given how happy Sam had been to see Castiel when he arrived, Dean was surprised that Sam was willing to let him go so easily. He didn't seem upset or worried, he just looked… happy? That wasn't right. He wasn't happy, but he was kinda mellowed out. Like he used to if he'd had a couple of beers and were just settling down to watch a movie… before: in the days before deals and demon blood and the apocalypse. He definitely did not look as though he'd just been sprung from the pit by a legion of angels.
Something was wrong, or maybe that should be right. Whatever it was, it worried Dean a little.
Dean wanted to be there for his brother, but he didn't want to hover. He figured that Sam would come to him when he needed him. If there were two things in the world that you could count on it was that the sun would always rise and that Sam would seek out a chick-flick moment. Dean was relying on it. So when Sam disappeared to shower, he left Bobby clearing up the kitchen and went outside.
He'd not given the Impala a service in too long to think of—when he hadn't been focused on the end of the world, he'd been focused on what it'd cost to save it—so he drove it into the service bay and popped the hood.
He'd been rooting around the engine for about fifteen minutes when he heard footsteps on the planks of the porch. Smiling slightly, he spoke without extricating his head from the hood. "Hey, Sammy. Hand me a metric wrench, will ya?"
"Sure," Bobby said, "as long as you don't call me Sammy again."
Dean jerked his head out, cracking his crown on the open hood. "What are you doing here?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Last I checked, this was my property."
"Where's Sam?"
"Still in the shower, I'm guessing. You need him for something?"
Dean shook his head. "I guess not."
Bobby leaned against the side of the car and crossed his arms over his chest. He had that look about him, the one that told Dean they were about to get into it, so he wiped his oily hands on a rag and waited for Bobby to start.
"Cas is right," he said eventually.
"About what?"
"This war. We can't be part of it, Dean."
Dean frowned. He thought if anyone was going to advocate saddling up and taking out the douche, it was Bobby. He'd never shirked from a fight before. He'd always been there, even when Dean had tried to keep him away for his own good. He'd been saddled to a wheelchair the last year and he still hadn't quit. He didn't believe it was cowardice that was making him say it, Bobby was the furthest thing from a coward he knew, but then what was it?
"Why not?"
"Because we're no match for a regular angel, let alone an archangel. The only weapon we have is holy oil, and there's only so many molotovs we can throw and land. Let's not forget that they can flap off at a moment's notice. Cas only got one in on Michael because he caught him off guard. We can't rely on it happening again."
"So what are we supposed to do?"
"We trust Cas knows what he's talking about and we leave him to it."
"Are you forgetting, Bobby, the last time Cas went up against an archangel, he was exploded like a sack of pudding. And the time before… What was it Chuck said?" He rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah, Raphael smote the crap out of him. Cas isn't a match for Raphael."
"And we are?"
"We've done it before," Dean said doggedly.
"Yeah, against Lucifer and look what that took to finish. Sam had to…"
"I know what Sam had to do," Dean growled. "And you know I won't let that happen again. But we can't leave Cas on his own in this. He's a child."
"Maybe in some ways, but not when it comes to this. He knows more about angels than we could learn in a hundred lifetimes. The only thing we could hope to do to fight Raphael is give Castiel a fort made of our corpses to hide behind. Face it, Dean, he doesn't need us."
"Who doesn't need us?"
Dean had been so intent on their conversation that he didn't notice Sam's approach. He wondered idly if Bobby had heard and decided not to tip Dean off because of some ulterior motive.
Bobby opened his mouth to answer but Dean spoke over him. "Bobby thinks we should let Cas take on Raphael alone."
Sam forked a hand through his damp hair and nodded thoughtfully. "Bobby's right."
"See," Dean started. "Sam agrees with… What?"
"Dean," Sam said patiently. "You heard what he said. It's too dangerous."
He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't heard it himself. Of all of them, Sam owed Castiel more than anyone. He'd gone to Hell to get Sam out. How could Sam be saying they should abandon him now?
"If we get tangled in this, we'll get him killed," Sam continued. "He'll be thinking about us and not the mission. Why do you think Dad always brought us here before taking on a big hunt? He needed us safe so he could concentrate. Cas needs the same. We can't be a part of this."
Dean hated it, hated it, but he thought they just might be right. The last thing he wanted to do was make things harder for Castiel. He was fighting a hell of a battle already without them getting in his way. But if they weren't fighting with him, what were they going to do? Dean looked from one to the other of them and shook his head. "So, what are we supposed to do?"
Bobby shrugged. "Do what you always do. You hunt and save other people. Let Cas do what he needs to do. If there is any way we can help, he'll let us know. Now, I've got to make a run in to town. We need supplies. Anything you boys want?"
"Pie," Dean said automatically, his mind not really with Bobby or Sam; he was thinking of Castiel and how he was supposed to repay him now.
Bobby left and Sam wandered over to the porch again. He sat down on the steps and stared out at the junkers. Dean worked on the car for a few more minutes then he joined Sam on the steps. Judging by the thoughtful look on Sam's face, his brain was kicking into gear, and that was honestly the last thing Dean wanted. There had to be real horrors in there now, and Sam didn't need to sit there stewing over them.
Dean wasn't good at the emotional stuff, he never had been. He thought actions spoke louder than words and tried to stick to that. But he had a feeling that actions weren't going to cut it this time. He was going to have to talk to Sam, to explain that he was there for him if and when he wanted to talk. Sam needed to know that he understood all the things he wasn't saying, because he had been there, too, and he knew what Hell did to a man.
Before he could think of an opener to the 'how's your head, Sammy?' conversation, Sam spoke, and Dean's focus was diverted.
"Did you even try, going to Lisa I mean?"
Dean was momentarily caught off-guard. Of all the things they had to talk about, Sam wanted to talk about that!
"I was going to, Dean said.
"But?"
"But I figured I should wait."
"Wait for what?" Sam asked. "Her to find someone else and settle down?"
Dean was pissed. Sam was acting like he had failed him somehow by not going to Lisa. Sure, that had been what Sam had wanted, and Dean would have gone eventually, but not till he was ready.
"No, Sam," Dean said through gritted teeth. "I was waiting for the day I could close my eyes and not see you disappearing into that hole. I was waiting till it was safe for me to go to them without screwing them up as much as I was. I didn't want to ruin that poor kid's life."
Sam nodded slowly. "Okay, I guess I get that. But what about now?"
"What do you mean now?"
"Why don't you go now?"
Dean gaped at him. Sam's tone was mild, and he didn't look like he was pissed at Dean, so what the hell was going on?
"You want me to go to Lisa now?" he asked, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having with your fresh-from-hell brother.
Sam shrugged. "It's not about what I want, Dean. It's about you. We both know you want that life, so why not go for it?"
"How about because you just got out of Hell!"
Sam smiled. "Exactly. I got out of Hell. I'm back now. Go live the life you want." He turned to Dean and his lips turned down as he caught Dean's fierce scowl. "Dean, for the first time ever, there is nothing for you to fight for. Azazel is dead, Lilith too, Lucifer and Michael are in the cage, we're not needed as vessels anymore, and Cas is going to take care of Raphael. There's no great mission for us."
"And what about you?" Dean asked. "I'm supposed to leave you to get through this alone."
"Get through what?" Sam asked. "I've told you I'm fine."
Dean merely shook his head, marveling at his brother's delusion. This was not over. He might be 'fine' now—and didn't Dean just hate that word—but it wouldn't last. It never did. Dean had felt fine too when he got out. There was nothing quite like the buzz of freedom gained, but it would fade and then the memories and nightmares and all the crap that came out of surviving Hell would come out. Sam was going to need him for that.
He wasn't going anywhere.
"I'm not leaving," he said quietly.
"But…"
"No, Sam!" Dean snapped. "It's not happening, so drop it."
He pushed himself to his feet and walked back into the house, leaving Sam staring after him with a furrowed brow.
So… Cas is an angel on a mission and Dean is waiting for Sam to break. Bless 'em. I know this chapter was a little light on the Sam/Castiel scenes. That will be rectified in coming chapters. I have to set the scene first.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx
