10. What Would Dean Do?

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Christine drove as fast as she could away from the house and towards Crowley's warehouse. She took her phone and called Dean Winchester. He didn't pick up, and she kept calling, worrying more and more with each unanswered call. Desperate, she eventually threw the phone on the passenger seat and drove even faster.

Gabriel must be furious, she thought to herself. She could still see in her head the sadness in the angel's eyes, liquid caramel burning in the holy fire. But if she could stop this, then maybe he'd forgive her. If she were to succeed in talking some sense into Cas, then reasoning with Gabriel wouldn't look so impossible.

Then again, reasoning with the angel was something only a crazy person would do.

As she pulled over outside the warehouse, something caught her eye. On the roof of the building was Castiel. He had thrown his trench coat on the ground, and was staring down from the edge of the roof. Christine got out of her car and looked up at him.

"Cas!" she called.

The angel gazed at her for a brief second, then looked away. Christine snorted and ran inside, then up the stairs, and finally she was on the roof too, standing behind Castiel. She grabbed the trench coat and held it in her hand, wondering why he'd taken it off.

"You made him angry," Castiel said firmly.

"Who?"

"My brother."

"Gabe?"

"Yes. He's miserable."

"Cas, I need to talk to you," Christine stated, ignoring his words.

"Do you know how it feels to know that if I fell down from this building on to the ground, I wouldn't even break a bone?"

"I do, actually."

"Oh. Right. You're an abomination."

"I'm not—fine, never mind."

"I'm going to make my father proud. I will save you. I will save you all."

"Cas, this is not the right thing to do."

"Dean will never have to move a muscle again, he will be able to rest, for the first time in his life-"

"Dean wouldn't want you to do this."

"How would you know?"

"Castiel, listen to me-"

"No. Go away Christine. You have no business being here."

"Quite right, my feathered friend," Crowley's voice commented from behind her. Christine turned around with a snort to find the demon sipping from a glass of scotch.

"Crowls, please-"

"Come with me, sweetheart," she soothed. "C'mon," he added, seeing she was hesitating. Reluctantly, Christine followed him inside. There was a weird smell, it burned her nostrils, she couldn't smell anything else.

"What's that smell?" she asked, twitching her nose.

"Probably the oil," he said, pointing at an ancient looking jar on the other side of the empty room. "Holy oil. Never too careful, am I right?"

Christine didn't answer, she just sighed in frustration and looked away. The demon smiled darkly at her and handed her a drink. Christine couldn't smell it, but it looked like whiskey, so she downed it in one long sip.

That's when her head started spinning. She'd felt like this before. But when? Her mind was clouded, she couldn't think straight. Fuckingdemon,was her last thought before she fainted.

Crowley caught her before she could fall to the floor, and gently carried her away.

There were no sounds when Christine woke up. No lights, no voices, nothing. She sat up too quickly and her head started spinning again.

"Dead man's blood," she mumbled to herself, snorting in anger. Of course he didn't want her to smell anything. Fucking demon.

She looked around, and immediately recognized the room. It was her bedroom. She was in her house.

"Gabriel!" she called out, trying not to panic.

No one answered. She jumped off the bed and searched the house, calling the angel's name in hysteria. No one, not a single soul. The clock in the kitchen read 7.30 pm. Maybe she still had time. Her car was outside the door, how nice of Crowley to bring it back. For a second, she thought maybe it would explode when she turned the engine on.

It didn't. She drove faster than ever once again, and reached the warehouse. It was late, nearly midnight, but she didn't give up. When she pulled over on the back of the building, she noticed another car. It had looked like it had been in an awful crash, it stood there upside-down and… Impala.

The boys were there. Christine didn't know whether to be happy or scared. No one seemed to be in the Impala, so they must have been alive…

"Christine?" a voice whispered behind her. Startled, she turned around to find herself facing a bloody and hammered Sam Winchester.

"Sam! Sweet mother of fuck, are you okay?"

"No," Sam breathed, and stepped forwards. Moving seemed to hurt him too much, so Christine tried to help him. Sam reluctantly let her, and they walked to the warehouse not without effort.

They got in the back door and hid behind a wall. Voices came from the room in front of them, Christine recognized Dean's and Gabriel's. Then Crowley spoke, and Castiel's deep voice responded.

"What now?" she asked Sam. The boy knitted his brows, then launched forwards and into the room. "Sam!" Christine whispered. "Bloody hell!" she cursed, before following him in the room.

"Christine!" Dean said, holding up his brother.

"Dean?" she answered, confused. "Gabe," she said, turning to face the angel. "Gabriel, I—" she started, but the angel shook his head as to say "Not now."

Christine looked around the room. There were no signs on the wall, the blood was still in the jar. Castiel and Crowley were bickering, but this time it looked serious. Gabriel's eyes followed Castiel's every move, and Christine began to think maybe he had had a plan all along.