Chapter Nine
"Well, you know what being the lover of an angel is like, don't you?"
With each hit Sam felt stronger, more normal. With each hit, each bead of sweat, he remembered Nuriel's sacrifice. With each hit, he swore he'd make sure what he did would never happen again. Heavier and fiercer, the man beat the punch-bag. One one two. One one two. It was so… easy to forget. To let it go. But where would they be then? He had promised to save her, and he couldn't even do that.
"Dude, you punch that thing any harder, the chain's gonna break." A deep voice interrupted the young man's line of thought. Spinning around, he watched his older brother leaning on the doorframe wearing training gear. "You got me here in this crappy outfit, you gonna get me to do somethin' or what?"
Nodding, Sam instructed him to hold the bag. "We need to talk." Huffing, Dean reluctantly followed his baby brother's orders. He wouldn't do this often, just until Sammy was properly back on his feet. "I've been thinking about-"
"Look, we ain't talking about it. Like I said, it was your call." Opening that can of worms was not gonna happen. It had been going through Dean's mind all night, and it made him sick.
Huffing, Sam struck the bag harder. "No, Dean, I don't regret the grace thing. Look at me! I'm fine. Better, actually." It was just a small lie, Sam did regret taking the grace, but he was better, and that's all that mattered to Dean.
Indicating he wanted to swap roles, Dean began to punch the bag, Sam holding it. "Then why d'ya wanna talk?"
"Cas."
"No." With one heavy strike, the bag almost knocked Sam over. "There ain't anything to talk about on that. Okay? He's gone."
Gritting his teeth, the younger hunter shoved the punch bag out of the way. "Really? Cuz you've been acting like a dick since he left." The younger hunter wasn't blind; he could see his brother was hurting. Every time Cas did this to them, Dean got worse.
Clenching his jaw, the older man turned away. "I have been working my ass off for this war, Sam. I don't have time to mourn the dead."
"He's not-"
"He's as good as."
"He could come back."
Frowning, the blond hunter sat on the bench. "I wouldn't let him in." Grabbing a towel, Dean wiped his face. "The coward ran when I- we needed him… He ain't coming back." There was pain in the last words, as if he meant something else. As if he knew Cas couldn't. Wherever he was, he was trapped.
Suddenly, ringing echoed through the bunker. Both men, shaken from their thoughts, rushed upstairs to greet their guests. "Yo! Dean, Sam, I bought you a present." Grinning, Garth hugged his hunter friends. "The Kev-ster."
Nervously stepping forwards, Kevin nodded, "Is- is, you know, Crowley-"
"Still out for the count, yeah. C'mon." Sitting the team down around the main room's table, Sam passed around the findings. "Demon or not, we need Crowley up and running. He knows everything about demons, maybe even the angels." This war wasn't really full-blast yet, but it was getting worse every day. It was becoming harder for the average Joe to pretend this crap didn't exist, and even harder for the hunters to move unnoticed.
Nodding, Garth grinned and flipped through the intel. "So he's Solomon, right? That's awesome!" The childish enthusiasm in the ex-dentist's face took the others aback. "C'mon, you gotta remember that this guy is, like, really important in Judeo-Christian beliefs." Putting his game-face on, Garth glanced back at the papers, "But I ain't got a clue how to help you here guys."
Raising an eyebrow, Dean tilted his head over to Kevin, who gave a disgruntled squeak. "No! I ain't breaking the King of Hell – my mom's murderer – out of a self-induced coma. Hell no." No one was that stupid. Solomon or not, the demon was King of Hell and embodiment of everything the Prophet hated. "I'm an orphan now because of him!"
Leaning forwards, Sam put on his softest expression. "I understand man, I really do, but, if we don't do this, there will be a whole lot more orphans out there. Crowley's, uh, reformed. If he can do anything to stop the angels and demons, then we've got help him first." The hunter's wide eyes broke the Prophet's resolve, making Kevin reluctantly work through the info.
Frowning, Garth watched as Sam copied. Last he heard, the young Winchester was knocking on Death's door, now he was the same athletic man-boy-giant. Garth's special Garth-Senses were off the scale, he knew that Sammy (don't get him wrong, he'd never call him that to his face) had done something dark… evil, to get better. "Yo, Sam, Dean, can we talk?"
Each raising an eyebrow, the Winchester brothers led the other hunter into the kitchen. Leaning back onto the counter, Dean waited for Garth to make his piece.
Removing Bobby's old trucker cap, the smallest hunter sighed. "What've you boys done now?" Watching the confusion on the other hunters' faces bemused him. "C'mon! You can't tell me Sam's all healthy now. No offence, but you two don't have that kinda luck."
Turning to his baby brother, Dean gave him the 'I told ya so' look'. Shaking his head, Sammy sighed. "We managed to get some hoodoo to help me. That's all."
"Did it involve a cat's skull?"
A deep frown creasing his brow, Sam stepped back a little. "Uh, no. Why?"
As if it was a normal question, Garth huffed. "Well, it ain't a good thing if it needed a cat's skull, and without one the spell wouldn't work." The kindly hunter rarely got this frustrated, but the Winchesters never made anything easy. "Whaddya really do?"
Rubbing his eyes, Sam looked anywhere but the other hunter. "I absorbed the grace of an angel, okay?"
Taken aback, Garth's eyes widened. He had no idea what he had expected, but that was not it. "Whatya idjits go do that for? Do you know what's in that stuff?"
"Yeah, a baby's tears. It was a crap move, but it worked, and you ain't our boss." Dean growled. This didn't concern Garth, as nice as the guy was, he wasn't Bobby, no matter how he dressed or acted.
Rolling his eyes, Sam sat at the kitchen table, and motioned for the tiny man to join him. Unlike his brother, the younger Winchester could admit that it was, perhaps, a little off the reservation. "I honestly have no idea what I was thinking, man. But we have a handle on this."
"For now, sure-"
"-and that's all that matters. We have to take what we can, for now, and deal with the consequences later."
"Are you listening to yourself? Sam, that's the kinda thing we'd all expect from Dean, not you." Shaking his head, the smaller hunter stood and headed for the door. "It's your body, Sam. No one can tell you what to do with it, but you gotta remember that you have people who care." And he was gone, disappearing back into the other room.
Alone together, the Winchester brothers both shared concerned expressions. Both knew Garth was right, that this could only go one of two ways. Sam had hopes for the future. Both men now had purpose, a home. Once this was all over, as he still believed it could be, the younger man wanted to rebuild the Men of Letters. Recreate the legacy. He couldn't do that dead.
In silence, the two of them returned to the main room, and continued to try and find the cure for Crowley. After seventeen hours, they were about to throw in the towel, just as Dean spotted something. Showing the others the page, he let his brother inspect the pages. "C'mon, I did good." The smug grin on the blond man's face amused his baby brother.
Nodding, Sam smiled. "You're right, listen to this: 'Just as a Devil's Trap contains demons, as does the Seal. To free a demon, the Trap must be broken, similarly to the Seal. However, the Seal's power lies with its connection with The King, not the inscription.'"
Chewing on a pen lid, Dean reclined in his chair and pulled the ring from his pocket. "But we've already broken it."
Jumping up, Kevin grabbed the sword from one of the displays. "I've got an idea."
Startled, and slightly frightened by the boy, Dean put his hands up defensively. "Whoa there. What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? I'm gonna cut that bastard's whole hand off."
"It's not on his hand. Put that down now. That is really Clarence. Claresse?"
"Clarent." Mumbled Sam, as he watched his brother struggle with the name. What he wondered was how Dean got that close. Then he remembered it was a sword, and Dean liked them.
"Yeah, that. You break that I'll break your nose."
Huffing, Kevin placed the blade back on the display and stormed off to the kitchen. Dean hated babysitting, especially with Kevin like this. Garth followed after the boy, to ensure he didn't damage anything. This left the brothers alone together.
Eyebrows raised, Sam shook his head. Chuck was more stable than this kid, and, it was sad to admit, but Raphael was probably why. Without protection from an archangel, Kevin was fair game to the demons. Raphael wouldn't have let this happen to him.
Glancing down at the papers, the younger Winchester nodded. "I guess we should look at cleansing rituals." There were so many, though, and Sam doubted their success. For all they knew, they'd just kill Crowley.
Flicking open his laptop, the man found multiple ways of doing it. However, only one seemed legitimate. Beckoned over by his brother, Dean dragged his chair over to him and began reading the screen. "Wow, man, that's kinda… hard. You sure it-"
"Yep."
"Aww, c'mon. I don't even know where to find a red heifer. Let alone know how to… you know."
Frowning, both men headed out on their reluctant mission. Covered in blood, the brothers returned several hours later. An odd silence between them; both were unable to erase the moos from their minds.
As they entered Crowley's room, they noticed he had not moved. Tired with all this, Dean pulled out a hip flask and began flicking the purified, ashy, water. Sure, having the King of Hell on side would be useful, but was it really worth the effort? They had just killed an innocent cow to fix this guy.
After a few seconds, there seemed to be no effect. "Looks like Bessie died in vain," Groaned the older hunter, as he tossed the flask to his brother. "Crowley's a dick, anyway. Maybe we could just-"
"-Dean, gimme the ring a minute." Frown on his face, Sam had an idea. As the Seal of Solomon landed, cold, into his palm, the man poured libations of the ashy water onto it. As the liquid touched the metal, golden steam began to fill the room. "Emundet hac re infecta." Steam rising up, it created a shimmering cloud above them.
Fascinated and confused, Dean watched in awe as it began to rain liquid gold. Most found Crowley's frozen form, entombing him into one solid statue. "Sam… I don't think-"
"Shh!" Excited by the sight, the younger hunter crouched beside the bed, eyes wide.
Suddenly, a giant crack split through the form, revealing a wide-eyed Crowley. "What the bloody hell was that?" Sitting up, the King of Hell glanced around, spotting Sam's face close to his. "Ah, Moose, it didn't take you long to make your moves on me."
Watching his brother's confused frown, Dean laughed, "Yeah, handsome devil like yourself…" It was surprisingly easy to make jokes with Soulful Crowley. "Whaddya remember?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Hell. That angel-girl." Slapping his lips together, the demon tasted something bitter on his tongue. "My mouth is as dry as a devil's armpit. You wouldn't mind fetching me a cup of tea, would you, Moose?" The smirk on the King of Hell's face unsettled Sam. Something wasn't right, but they didn't really have time for that.
Huffing, the tall man left the other two alone to talk. "So… you're Solomon, then?"
"The one and only, I'm afraid." Clicking his joints, Crowley climbed off of the bed and began following Sam's route. Dean in tow, he began to count each limb. To be honest, he had expected far fewer, considering the Winchester track-record. His suit was a mess, crumpled, damp and smelt like ash.
Finding his way into the main room, he sat in front of his new mug of tea. The brothers took their places at the table, facing him. "You gonna tell us about it, then?" Asked Sam, a rare opportunity like this, you don't just pass up. Even Dean was leaning in to listen, and he usually hated stuff like this.
Smirking, Crowley nodded. "If you insist." Was he playing with them? Of course he wanted to say. It was impossible for the guy to pass up an opportunity to brag. "I am King Solomon of Jerusalem, son of David. A prophet of the Lord, magician, exorcist, you name it." Sipping some tea, he winced from the foul taste. "As a King, I had access to the finer things in life, wine, women and song. My palaces and temples reached to the sky and were covered in gold. I indulged in many things, and my wives were very persuasive. Made me turn from God to their pagan ones."
"You had wives?" There was something weird about thinking of Crowley married. It didn't sit well with Dean, who always figured him to be a drifter who liked a bit of both.
"Yes. The books exaggerated it a bit. It couldn't have been more than one hundred wives and fifty concubines." A slight smirk crossed the King's lips, as he watched the humans register it. "And these wives turned me towards the pagan gods, which made me unable to realise a demon deal. I was given a long life of eighty years in return for my ever-lasting." Something behind the words made Sam concerned, as if Crowley was okay with that.
Finishing his drink, the demon continued, explaining that, when he finally did die, he was made Lilith's favourite pet. "'A divine man in Hell!' They'd say. What those bastards didn't know, was that I had earned my place the first time, and I could do it again…" Noticing the suspicious look on Sam's face, Crowley shrugged. "Of course, I regret everything I did now, but to see their faces when I took that crown, became their ruler. It was fantastic, honestly." Playing with the mug, the King seemed to be mulling over something.
Confused, Dean rubbed his bottom lip in thought. "So, that's how Naomi knew you, then?"
Nodding, the demon reclined in his seat, a smirk on his face. "Well, you know what being the lover of an angel is like, don't you?" Watching the hunter squirm awkwardly, Crowley's eyes shone with deviousness. "And I don't mean that Anna."
Confusion crossed Dean's face as he thought back to angels he knew, other than Cas… cuz, you know, Crowley couldn't mean him. Could he? A scowl formed, lips tightening into a line. "Shut it, douche-wad." Storming off down the hall, Sam hurried after him.
"Woah! Dean, wait up, man. What was that about?" Concerned, the younger brother forced Dean to look at him. There it was, in Dean's eyes, the same tiredness he had during the Apocalypse.
Shaking his head, the older hunter growled. "He's a dick." There was something more to it, something he couldn't put his finger on. "I mean, if he's s'posed to have a soul, why ain't he using it?"
Shrugging, Sam sighed. "What I'm getting from him, I'm thinking Solomon wasn't such a nice guy anyway." Yeah, over a hundred wives and lovers, add to that the fact that he ended up making a deal with a demon… Solomon wasn't too different to the Crowley they knew. "Look, I don't like this, or him, either, but what else have we got?"
Shoulders slumping, Dean rested against the corridor wall. All he wanted was a rest from this. Nothing permanent, just something that could clear his mind of it all. It could be a family vacation, or something. No angels or demons. Just him, Sam, Cas and Kevin, hitting casinos, bars and beaches. "Awesome."
Watching his brother's mind wander, Sam frowned. Trying to get into his brother's head when he was making that face was not a good idea. He left Dean to his own thoughts, and went to help Crowley figure out the effects of the prophecy, and cost.
Alone in the dark corridor, Dean rolled his head off of the wall and began to make his way to his bedroom. When they were done with the angels, they were so going to on vacation. Seating himself on his bed, he pulled out his phone. Slowly flicking through the contact list, it landed on 'Cas'. Heart racing with God-knows-what, Dean ran his finger on dial. Calling him would be the reasonable thing to do, right? Sam was always telling him to communicate better, and telling Cas that they- he forgave him was the first step.
Chewing his lip, he pressed the button.
"Hello?" Castiel's early-morning growl cut across the phone line. "Who is this?" Something was different about it, stopping Dean's heart. "If you wish to play games, I'll-"
"Cas?" Was all Dean could manage. Everything he had planned on saying went out the window.
"Hm? Dean?" Lightening up, the voice became softer. There was a ruffle of crisp bed-sheets as Cas sat up. "I didn't have your number to-"
"Stop, Cas." Dean really didn't want his excuses, he just wanted to hear his voice. There was no way the hunter would admit it, but he really missed his best friend. "Why d'ya leave?" It was an easy question, the first thing that came to mind. He didn't want a fight, just an answer.
Silence held the other side of the line for a few moments. "I had to, you know that."
Frowning, Dean bit his cheek, "Really? Cuz I remember gettin' ready to go and you ran off without us." Cas never made it easy to talk, even now, he was being as obscure as ever. His secrets were the whole reason anything in the last four years even happened.
"You wouldn't understand-"
"Cuz I'm human? Newsflash, dick: you are too. Get over yourself." Something about Cas made Dean angry, regardless of how much he liked him. It seemed like forever since Cas had been straight with him.
Something like a sniff cut through the line, before Cas growled. Actual goddamned growled. "Don't call me again, you bastard." With that, the line went dead.
Glancing down at his phone, Dean's blood started to boil. What the hell? No one hangs up on him. Smashing his cell against the wall, Dean lay back on his bed and tried to sleep the day's stress off.
- Sun, sea, sand, everything Kev had asked for. It wasn't usually Dean's thing, but this was awesome. This holiday was awesome, and nothing could ruin it. Reclined on a towel, ice cold beer in hand, Dean watched hot babes in their bikinis wink at him. Later he'd hit the casinos, win big and take chick back to his hotel room. Yes, hotel. God he loved California.
For now, though, he'd catch some rays, but, unlike Sam, he wasn't gonna read while doing it. In the distance, he spotted Castiel giving Kevin a piggyback, whilst trying to walk into the sea. He laughed to himself as he saw them get knocked over by the waves. Dean loved seeing those two unwind cuz it was so rare.
Suddenly, Castiel was beside him, dripping wet, wings fully extended. "Look, Dean! I'm a dog." With the widest grin on his face, Cas shook the water off, and onto Dean. Before Dean could throttle the angel, Cas gave him puppy-eyes to rival Sammy's. Sitting on the towel facing Dean, the angel pretended to scratch his ear with his foot.
Great, thought Dean, Cas is crazy again.
As if Cas heard him, he smirked. "No, Dean, just happy."
Realizing he had never seen Cas' wings, Dean took them in. They were like a raven's, shimmering dark blue. As Dean reached out to touch a feather, Castiel began to fade. "Where're you goin', Cas?" Pain tore through Dean's voice. He didn't want his angel to go.
Panic growing in Cas' giant blue eyes, he begged Dean not to leave him. Not to forget him or let him go. "Please Dean, I need-" –
Bolting upright, Dean sat tangled in his covers and roughly ran his hand over his face. God he hated himself. He wasn't gonna take back what he said, though. He couldn't. If Cas was gonna run off again, maybe he should stay gone, but it didn't mean the ex-angel deserved that. He felt like his dad telling Sammy to never come back.
Groaning, the man rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. His watch said it was only six in the morning. Shrugging off his dirty clothes, Dean washed off the dried blood from yesterday. The past few weeks were killing him. Angels and demons waging war, that damn prophecy, Crowley as Solo- "Crap!" Jumping out of the shower, Dean barely wrapped a towel around his waist, before storming into the main hall. "Sammy, gimme your phone, now." Snatching his startled brother's cell, he got Cas' number up. "C'mon, pick up."
I'm sorry, but the number you have dialled has been disconnected. Please try again.
Raising an eyebrow, Sam was completely disoriented. Why was his half naked brother throwing his phone at the wall? Before he could ask, Dean stormed off again.
Popping his head from the kitchen, Garth asked, "Did Dean want a coffee?"
Half-heartedly finishing his shower, Dean knew he had screwed up. Any chance of saving Cas from the prophecy went out down the chute. Cas had broken all contact with them cuz of one, stupid, stress-fuelled phone call. Resting his head on the tiles, he let the water do its thing. Maybe focusing on the demons and angels would distract him. Yeah… but first, he needed to get alcohol. Lots of it.
As Dean left for the liquor store, Sam and Crowley insisted on tagging along. No one mentioned the phone incident or Cas. Crowley sat in the back seat, watching Dean drive. There was the unmistakeable Winchester turmoil there. Ah, love, such an awful burden, thought Crowley in a mocking tone.
Little time was spent actually in the store; Dean just grabbed his usual pack of beer and bottle of whiskey. Something told Sam that it wasn't to share, so he bought the rest of the team beers. There was so much destroying Dean, the scars were starting to show. After everything, it was a surprise he hadn't broken down already.
Driving back, Dean really wanted the other two to stop staring at him. He began to fumble with a tape and slid it in. – I see a little silhouetto of a man scaramouche scaramouche will you do the fandango… - Frowning, Dean popped the cassette out and replaced it with Styx. -…thunderbolts of lightning very very frightening…- What the hell? He punched the cassette player.
"Dean, just pick a damn tape." Sam sighed, and rubbed his eyes.
Gritting his teeth, Dean glanced over at his brother. "I would, but someone's screwed with them."
"Um, yes, that would be me," said Crowley, as he leant over their shoulders. "From now on. every tape in this car will turn into 'Best of Queen.'"
Groaning, Sam rubbed his eyes. "What the hell? You promised you wouldn't copy the book."
Totally confused, Dean's eyes flicked from Sam to the road. "What? What book?"
Before anyone answered, something sped into the road. Swerving the car, Dean narrowly missed it. Crowley was the first out of the car, followed by Sam and Dean. "Wow, you look just awful," said Crowley to the man in the middle of the road. He was clutching his stomach, blood dripping through his fingers.
Rushing to the man's aid, Sam helped him sit on the grassy verge. "I-I ne-ed to find him." The man was fading fast.
"You're not finding anyone in that state, mate," said Crowley, watching as the brothers struggled to help.
Growling, Dean flicked a glare at the demon, and then turned back to the bleeding man. "What happened?"
"They wanted- tried to find him. They're going- going to kill him. The Avenger, the Judge. He seeks to- to tear him apart." The man groaned in pain. "I saw it. They showed me the end. Oh god! We're all going to die…"
Sharing glances with Sam, Dean continued to question the man. The man, Nathan, said that he was called upon by an angel for a 'higher purpose'. When he said 'yes' to being a vessel, he found out the truth, and fought to push the angel back out. He didn't want to be a murderer. The struggle severely wounded him.
Sam called an ambulance, and it was there within minutes. Sam wasn't sure Nathan would make it, but hoped he would. The death toll was getting pretty high, and was only gonna get worse. Glancing at his blood-soaked brother, he sighed. Dean never worried about himself, and that was gonna destroy him one day.
"'m gonna have to have another shower." There was no expression on Dean's face. Nothing. He remained quiet the rest of the day. Back at the bunker, he flicked through books about Avenging angels and Justice, all the while downing his whiskey.
Dean wasn't gonna admit he was crumbling. But if he did, it was because of the events of the past few years, not because his best friend was on the run from a butt-load of angry angels. And it was definitely not cuz Cas probably hated him now. No, he'd never admit it. Ever.
