Oh, but this one is long, and again most of it was written on little scraps of paper while on the phone to screaming morons, otherwise known as customers. I think this actually the longest chapter yet, this cannot be a bad thing, and Hecate and Gabriel have actually taken over their bits and won't let me control them properly. Actually I'm slowly building up a folder of stuff that they want me to do that I don't think fits. This cannot be good.
On The Head Of A Pin.
Sam is going to leave him soon, Dean knows this because his brother is restless and talking about Ruby and Dean knows that he is itching to get back out there and find Lillith. The hunter wants to go with him, desperately so, but he knows that he cannot. He is tired, so very tired. He is tired of the nightmares and of losing people that he cares about. He is tired of the angels and their manipulations. He is tired of not knowing what is going on, but above all else, he is so tired of fighting and getting no where.
All his life he has been fighting, whether it be evil or his dad or Sam, he has been fighting just to survive and continue with his way of life. When it gets right down to it, his way of life is pretty damn terrible, a mixture of bad food, no pay and a life time spent being thrown into things, thrown through things, kicked, bitten, punched and generally beaten up. It is not much of a life at all, for all the excitement and freedom that it gives him. Point is, all his life he has been fighting to survive, fighting to have the life that he was raised into and wanted to keep because it was all he knew, and nothing has been made any better by it. All his life he has fought to keep something and everyday it just gets worse and worse, harder and harder and he cannot do it anymore.
Sam tells him to stop being tired and start being mad, but right now Dean is feeling every one of his one hundred and thirty years old, and telling Sam that ten months up here was a century years downstairs has really thrown them both off kilter, and he wonders how he is supposed to find the energy to be angry when he spends his nights drinking his way into Hell and his days running from the memories. He is all used up and he just attended Pamela's funeral. There is nothing left in him to give and he knows that Sam cannot understand that.
Getting back to the motel room to find Castiel and Uriel waiting for them is another kick in the gut. It can only be a bad thing after all, and Dean is not so stupid that he does not realise that they are manipulating him for all that they are worth because that was proved to him back in Greybull. In a way he is hurt that Castiel had to resort to subterfuge to get him to do what was necessary, but he is not overly surprised. Since he got out there on his own, no dad and no Sam to tie him to one way of doing things, he has begun to question more, begun to wonder how things could be done differently and to want answers to his questions.
No matter how much he may want to, Dean knows that he cannot give Castiel the same trust that he allowed when it was just the two of them, when Cas helped him sleep and offered him comfort in his nightmares. The hunter knows that the angel is a warrior, a soldier, but there are feelings there, emotions that Cas tries to hide and tries to control. He likes that the angel does not always succeed.
So, sure, Castiel is a tactician and he is not always one hundred percent truthful with Dean, nor is he all that patient, Cas is a leader, for the most part, he is not accustomed to having to explain things. He is, however, a million times better than Uriel, and that is not just because he 'likes' Dean. Castiel may not be patient, and he may not like to explain things, he may be baffled by Dean's behaviour and he may not be human, but he saw the hunter in the pit and he saw what Hell did to him and, to a degree, Dean likes to think that he understands. Which makes him less of an annoyance and a lot more tolerable in Dean's mind.
Uriel does not have any of those redeeming qualities, in fact Dean doubts that the other angel has the ability to be nice or understanding at all. It sits with him incredibly badly to see Castiel standing quiet and obedient in a corner while Uriel lectures him about being raised from Hell and the fact that he should be grateful for it.
"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Castiel says, voice gravelly with something that Dean would once have labelled as concern.
"And we," Uriel cuts Castiel off with the kind of look that tells Dean that the power has shifted, that something has gone wrong somewhere and Cas is no longer what he was, "don't care. Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."
Something dark and disgusting crawls into Dean's mind at that, something which says 'good' while all the while hinting at the fact that this probably means they are going to ask him to do something that he does not like. He feels a little bad about that, because the Cas did pull him out of Hell and demons are killing off his brothers and sisters, his family and Dean knows how that feels, but he does not want this to turn into something that he will regret.
Dean also hates it when he is right about these things. The angels have Alistair, and with the demon's knowledge of torture it will be a cold day downstairs before he starts talking due to their probably limited knowledge of such methods of persuasion. That cold feeling in his gut intensifies when Castiel speaks, eye compassionate even though his voice does not falter. They want him to torture Alistair.
"No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this," he is begging, babbling almost, but he cannot let that monster out again, not for anything or anyone and he hates that it has come to Castiel, and Uriel but that angel may as well not be in the room for all the response Dean gives him, asking him to become that creature again.
"Who said anything about asking?" Uriel demands, steps forward and presses his fingers to Dean's head and the room vanishes.
The hunter finds himself in a warehouse, looking through the window of a large door and at a devil's trap that contains a heavily bound Alistair. Castiel is talking softly just over his shoulder and Dean thinks that the angel is trying to reassure him, but there is nothing that can make the hunter want to do this, not Castiel's soft assurances that Alistair will not break out of the trap and not Uriel's repetition of the fact that angels are dying. Everyone dies eventually.
"This is too much to ask, I know," Castiel says abruptly and it gets Dean's attention, "but we have to ask it." It is enough to make Dean stand up to Uriel, just enough to get him to crack a half hearted joke that persuades that other angel to leave and Dean finds himself alone with Castiel. It is a decidedly uncomfortable moment but it may be his only opportunity to get answers, so he dives in.
Finding out that this is his fault, that Castiel has been demoted because of him, is another blow. Cas says that his superiors believe he has become too emotional, gotten too close to the humans in his charge but as far as Dean knows there is only one human that Castiel looks out for and that is him. He still tries to persuade the angel that this is a bad idea, that they do not want him to do it, but Castiel is the bigger picture guy and if anyone can talk Dean into walking through that door and taking up the knife, apparently it is him.
"For what it's worth," he says as Dean looks through the door again, back tense and self loathing eating at him because he really is considering it now, "I would give anything not to have you do this." Those are the words that tip Dean over the edge, because they sound so heartfelt and the burn of Castiel's impossible eyes in the back of his neck is so sorrowful that he knows the sentiment is genuine, he knows that even though Castiel will probably ask him to do many things he will not like in the future, if the angel were ever to have a choice this would be the one thing that he would never ask.
"I'll need a few things," he says and closes his eyes, feels Castiel's presence brush behind him as the angel seems to instinctively fetch everything that the hunter is too afraid to ask for.
Facing Alistair's taunts and sly confidence is harder than he had thought it would be, and Dean has had a lot of time to think about this. He has had a century in Hell to plan all of the things that he would do to the demon and he finds that now that he has the chance, he does not want to let it go to waste. The one thing that he is thankful for is the alcohol that Castiel has also provided, he knows that he will need it, especially when Alistair starts talking about how John Winchester completed his century without ever once contemplating climbing off the rack. It hurts to hear, but Dean has been aware of the fact that he is not his father for years now.
The demon's screams do nothing to make Dean feel any better about all of this. If anything they make it all worse, because the whole time the demon is jibing and poking, pulling at the tears and scraps of Dean's soul and feeding all the moments of doubt and hatred. When he finally gets something from Alistair, it is not the words he wanted, not the confession or the information that he was hoping for. He allows himself to hope for a moment that the demon is lying, because demons do lie, but deep down he knows that is not the case now.
"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break," Alistair is slurring the words, but the meaning of them is clear enough even if the demon had not told the hunter what they really meant. Dean got off that rack and he picked up that blade and he broke the first seal.
He keeps his back turned, desperately trying to bring himself back under control and wondering why Castiel did not tell him this, and all the while Alistair is making soft assurances, telling him that this is the truth and not something that the creature would need to lie about. The worst of it is that Dean knows that it is not a lie, feels it right down to the core of his soul and now he understands why the angels pulled him out. They dragged him out so that he could fix the mess that he made.
Turning around to see Alistair loose and grinning at him is hardly a shock after everything else and he entertains the vague hope that the demon will succeed in killing him before the world becomes blackness and pain broken only by a moment of light and hope when Castiel appears in a futile attempt to rescue him.
SPN
Sam is not sure if he is more angry with the angels or with himself when Dean is taken. He knows that there is no way that he could have stopped it from happening, these beings are far more powerful than him after all, but he thinks he should have made more of an effort in the matter. His main concern, though, is that he is certain that the angels do not know just how damaged Dean really is, how far from being able to do this.
Sam calls Ruby, asks her to help him find Dean and he is completely unsurprised her reaction. Initially she is reluctant to help, even before he manages to talk her into coming to the motel, because she is a demon and she has no wish to mess with angels even if they are long gone. He keeps on pushing, keeps on pressing and eventually she turns up, face like thunder and an attitude that almost makes him regret asking.
"I can still smell them," she snaps. "Seriously, Sam, I'm not exactly dying to tangle with angels again."
"I just need you to find Dean," he tries to placate her but they both know that he needs more than that. It has been weeks since she last gave him what he needs and his abilities are growing weaker with each passing day. If he is going to help Dean he will need more blood.
He is well aware of the fact that Ruby does not like his brother and that she fails to see the problem with letting Dean cut Alistair into pieces and get a measure of revenge on the demon for the things that he inflicted on the hunter in Hell. Sam explains it as best he can and yet he knows that the demon is not convinced, he knows that she would rather they leave Dean to rot and they continue on their quest to find and kill Lillith before going after the Trickster. Sam knows that this has become less about revenge on the Trickster now anyway, the demi-god ceased to be a threat when the hunter was told about the seals to Hell being broken.
"Look, you help me find Dean and I'll come back on the road with you," he says abruptly. "He can't do it anymore, angels or not, and someone has to stop this." She considers him for a long moment, face hard and eyes searching, seeking out deception and failing to find any in his earnest gaze.
"Fine," she mutters, scraping blonde hair back off her face and securing it behind her. "Angels aren't interested in covering their tracks anyway so it shouldn't be too hard to find them. You got a map?"
Sam would point out that asking a hunter, and therefore essentially a nomad, if he has a map is like asking a bird if it has wings, except that he still needs her to help so he holds his tongue and fetches it from the car. When he returns with it she is already set up for the spell on the tiny motel table and she stares at him balefully for a moment, like she wants to ask if he is certain that he wants to cross the angels again. This is Dean, though, his only family and he has to protect his brother even though he knows that the other hunter will never thank him for it. He nods, face softening a little because he also knows that Ruby will never understand this bond between them, and the demon begins a soft chant, her words almost hissed. He flinches when the map bursts into flames and the laugh that comes from his companion is hard.
"Relax, we only need the bit that tells us where to find Dean," she smirks at him. "Out," she commands, then, and the flames obediently vanish. "There," she picks up the small circle of paper and hands it to him, "this is where you'll find him."
"Thanks, Ruby," his eyes are almost unseeing as he heads to the door, hands in his pocket and grasping at the hard, cool, metal of the car keys before she stops him.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asks and when he looks at her she already has her jacket off and her knife out of her boot. "If you're going after Alistair you're going to need this."
The demon presses the knife to her arm, crimson welling up around the blade, and Sam is making his way towards her without a thought, even though a part of him is screaming at him to stop this. Ruby's lips curl up in another smirk as he draws closer and steals a harsh kiss from her before taking her arm, lifting it to his mouth and latching over the cut. The blood is thick, warm and coppery, with the under taste of sulphur and it should repulse him but he finds that it slides down more and more easily every time that they do this.
He takes another kiss from her when he is done, the fresh blood rushing through him making him want to do so much more but he knows that there is not time for that. Dean needs him and he breaks away from the demon, promises to call her as soon as he is done and beats a hasty retreat, clambering into the car and taking off so fast that the wheels spin and the breaks squeal.
He is almost too late and he curses Ruby for resisting his pleas in the first place. When he reaches the previously abandoned warehouse Dean is a bloodied and broken mess on the floor, breathing shallow and eyes closed, and Castiel is apparently being forcibly ripped from his borrowed body by Alistair. The angels messed up and Dean has paid the price here, it makes something in Sam snap.
Alistair is hurled against a wall with barely a thought, just a flick of the wrist and he is suddenly very grateful that Ruby reminded him that he needed the blood as much as he did Dean's location. He barely spares a thought for Castiel, but knows that all of this will have been for nothing if he does not get the information that he needs from the demon. So he pushes and he pulls and eventually Alistair admits that he does not know anything, that he never knew anything and Sam believes him, Sam knows that the words are the truth. It takes less than a moment to squeeze the life out of the demon.
He does not regret it.
SPN
The burden of his failure to Dean burns at Castiel as he looks in through the hospital door, sees the hunter hooked up to all manner of machines in an attempt to keep him alive. The angel's orders are simple, look but do not touch and it hurts to have to keep this distance from a man that he has offered comfort to so many times. He knows the instant that Sam sees him that he has been there for too long, even though it was little more than a fleeting glance, and he turns to leave, not surprised by the angry demands of the young man only moments later.
"Get in there and heal him. Miracle. Now!" Sam's words are angry, but Castiel is not going to explain to him no matter what the boy says or demands. He has a point, however, about the trap and the angel resolves to look into it as he moves away, desperately ignoring the human's words and anger because it mirrors his own feelings on the matter too closely and he needs to keep that under control, needs to keep it contained.
He seeks out his conspicuously absent brother instead and finds him on a snowy bench. The cold air curls around his grace as though it is seeking the warmth that it offers and Castiel settles next to him, patiently waiting for his brother to speak. The words are not welcome ones. They have been ordered to stop searching and Castiel can think of only one explanation. Heaven has forsaken them, they are failing and for that they are being punished.
Uriel is apparently of the same opinion, in that moment declaring his intention to disobey and leaving his brother in the snow. Abruptly, Castiel wishes that he knew what had happened to Anna, Anael, so that he could ask her for some form of guidance. Instead he sits in the snow and lets his thoughts consume him, not daring to seek for revelation in case his superiors, his Father, hears the parting words of Uriel and deems him too much of a threat.
His thoughts wander back to the devil's trap, the one that he drew himself and that he knows no demon can break free of. Something in that room was not right, something has to have been tampered with and he decides to expel his suddenly restless energy on finding out who would try to ensure that the Righteous Man dies.
When he reaches the room it does not take him very long to find the answer. A leaky pipe and a steady fall of water onto spelled chalk outline. Given that he checked the room himself before drawing the trap he finds the suddenly loose tap disturbing. It ignites in him an equally troubling suspicion, Uriel's words and actions over the last several months and the simple fact that no demon would be able to break through the barriers created by that trap. Only an angel could have done this and he summons his brother with a thought, tells him what he has found.
"We've been friends for a long time, Uriel. Fought by each other's sides, served together away from home, for what seems like forever. We're brothers, Uriel. Pay me that respect. Tell me the truth," because he already knows in his mind what is about to pass his brother's lips.
"The truth is, the only thing that can kill an angel," there is a flash of silver at Uriel's wrist and the sharp hiss of a blade being drawn, "is another angel." It confirms his suspicions and drives a blade sharper than the one that Uriel carries through his chest.
He had not wanted to believe it and yet here is the proof, staring him in the face and asking him to join in this betrayal of Heaven, of their Father. Even discovering that Uriel has doubts about Him is not as big a shock, every single angel has had them at some point, but that Uriel has gotten away with it, subverted so many of his brothers and sisters, is terrifying. He cannot side with those that would raise Lucifer, no matter how bright his brother once was, because it is not the Will of his Father and it is not what he thinks is right. With the vague thought of rebellion against his superiors in the back of his mind, because Uriel can only have managed this if someone is turning a blind eye, Castiel knows that he has to concentrate on doing what is right.
It is why he is the one to throw the first punch in a fight that he knows he cannot win.
Angels are beings of light and grace and power. When they fight it is fast, it is furious and it is destructive, the building that they are in does not stand a chance against the solid mass that is an angel contained in a vessel and even though he takes Uriel by surprise, the fight quickly goes south for the weaker angel. He knows that he is going to lose this, that Uriel will lay the blame and the betrayal at his door and that Dean will be in even more danger. Still, he has to try, has to believe that his faith will save him.
"You can't win, Uriel," he grates out as his brother picks up a pipe, "I still serve God." The metal hurts when it comes into contact with him, forcing him down and Uriel's wrath is vicious.
"You haven't even met the man," he growls, smashing a fist into Castiel's vessel. "There is no will," he strikes again. "No wrath," and again. "No God."
"Well," a distinctly female voice says and Uriel turns his head, allowing Castiel to catch a glimpse of red black magic as wood and metal is thrust through Uriel's neck, "maybe not, but I figured that maybe I could stand it."
It is Hecate and as Uriel falls she flicks her wrist, twisting her spear out of his body and crying out as his dying grace catches her and flings her against the wall across from him. It takes him a moment to reorientate himself, but he is still faster than her and he has managed to get to his feet and pick up the sword that Uriel would have used to kill him before she has shaken the lights out of her eyes. She is aware of him, however, and she reaches for the spear as he draws nearer, getting to her feet and moving the blade out of sight as best she can. Unfortunately for her, she does not manage it before he manages to get a glimpse of the inscription.
"That is an archangel's blade," he growls, the origins of her weapon adding to his confusion about the reasoning behind her actions. Hecate is a pagan, after all, she has no interest in making sure that the agents of a God who does not tolerate the existence of her kind remain alive.
"So it is," she does not look all that surprised by his words and instead her eyes flicker away from him to the door behind him. "I'll be on my way, then," she says and he can feel her gathering her magic about her, can see the red black strands of it coiling, "there's really no need to thank me."
"Where did you get it?" He demands, curling his free hand into a fist and dispersing the spell she was weaving, using his own grace to push her against the wall and pin her to his mercy once more, the spear pressed tightly and uselessly at the small of her back.
"I just saved your life," she snaps, eyes flashing and magic starting to swirl in an attempt to escape, "let me go."
"I'm not a demon to be bargained with," he reminds her, raising the blade. he can tell that she remembers their last meeting and his threat to her by the way that she draws on her magic, the effort it is now taking to hold her in place.
"Well you won't get an answer if you kill me," she eyes the sword warily, and screams when he twists his grace.
"Tell me," and this time he presses the blade to her stomach at the same time as he tightens his hold on her, "where you got it."
"Only an idiot fights Hell," she grinds out between gritted teeth as she begins to struggle physically, "and only the heir to the throne of the kingdom of idiots starts a war with my kind at the same time." He knows, then, that she is protecting someone, that her words are designed to throw him off his desire to find out where she got the weapon.
"You over estimate your worth to them," he tells her. The pagans are fractious, difficult and self centred, they rarely get along with one another and are just as likely to kill each other as they are to join together against Heaven or Hell.
"Actually, I think you underestimate her value to us," another voice says and this one, though still tinged with madness and death and blood, is male and carries a hint of grace about it. The voice is unfamiliar, but there is a power to the grace in it that is not.
He turns, coming face to face with a small man with mousey hair and eyes that are a rich honey brown. He pushes against the curl of chocolate coloured magic, what the pagans call worship, expecting it to have a weakness. What he finds is something of steel and of grace and there is only one other angel missing from Heaven that Castiel is aware of.
"You," he breathes, unable to say the name that is on the very tip of his tongue because something stops him.
"Hey, bro," the other smirks and behind him Castiel hears Hecate sigh, feels her struggles stop and the muffled thud of her head making contact with the wall. The words have already confirmed Castiel's suspicions as honeyed eyes turn on the goddess. "I told you not to hang around," he says and she shrugs, rolling her eyes as Castiel's attention returns to her fully even though he has not relaxed his graced hold on her. The fact that she has stopped struggling and is more relaxed makes Castiel uneasy, however.
"I know," she responds, "but I also seem to recall telling you not to come after me if I got caught." There is a flash of something dangerous in her eyes, then, almost a warning and Castiel wonders how his powerful brother got mixed up with her.
"Well, you did a bang up job of escaping," he rests a hand on Castiel's arm, sending a jolt of grace so powerful through him that the angel withdraws his grip on Hecate with a start. It is all the answer that he needs, all the confirmation in that one sharp shock that this is Gabriel, the missing archangel.
"Yeah, I was doing fine," she spares Castiel a momentary glare before turning back to his brother, "until you showed up, and now you've blown it." She does not say his name, does not have to, but the implication of her words is clear. Castiel knows that he should turn Gabriel in, that he has to, because the archangel has disobeyed, and clearly Hecate knows the same, her attention as wholly on his brother as Gabriel's is on her.
"What is this?" He asks and is unsurprised when he does not receive an answer. They are so wrapped up in one another, in their bickering about what Gabriel has just done that they hardly seem to notice him. In Heaven, this kind of behaviour would not be unexpected from the archangel, and even now it is not difficult to see it happening, but that Hecate is utterly oblivious to the threat that he poses is a sign of just how much trust she has in his brother.
"He won't say anything," Gabriel finally turns his attention back to the other angel, honey eyes piercing, "will you, Castiel?" It is not so much that the archangel knows his name that startles Castiel as it is the deep flash of gold in his eyes as he speaks, the obvious threat behind the words and it does not even occur to him to disobey that order. "Go tend to your human," he orders and offers his hand to the goddess. "Shall we, Hecate?"
She nods and rests a light hand in his offered one, her smile brilliant. They are gone between one heart beat and the next and Castiel is left no less baffled by this turn of events than he was at seeing the pagan goddess come to his aid. This experience has taught him something unexpected, however, and that is the simple fact that angels disobey all the time, whether they be archangels or common foot soldiers like Anael and Uriel, and unless fate intervenes they seem to be able to get away with it for the most part. Uriel most likely would have if Hecate had not killed him, and the same holds true for Gabriel if Castiel choses not to turn him in. If this is the case for them, would it also hold true for him?
First, however, he needs to see Dean, needs to be certain that the hunter will be alright.
When he reaches the hospital, the room is silent but for the gentle beeps of monitors and the soft rasp of Dean's breathing. There is no sign of Sam, although the room is thick with the scent of the demon that the youngest Winchester runs with. It is clear that the younger brother has abandoned the elder in his hour of need. He settles in a chair near the bed, even though he knows that Dean will likely not want to see him, feeling the man's still silent anguish as the hunter returns to consciousness.
"Are you all right?" He asks it because he knows that it is the right thing to ask, he does not expect a truthful answer.
"No thanks to you," Dean rasps, anger and pain twisting violent in him. Castiel knows that he deserves the response.
"You need to be more careful," he does not mean it to come out sounding like a rebuke or a reprimand, but it does and Dean reacts to it.
"You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap," the words are almost whispered and even though Castiel dislikes having to explain things, believes that orders should be followed, he explains this, tells Dean that Uriel died because he was working against them. He does not tell the hunter how his brother was killed.
"Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?" The change in subject surprises the angel and he looks at his charge, can see the shattered edges of his soul and the deep damage that this revelation has done. Zachariah is not going to be happy with this development, this change. Dean's torment is a threat to his ability to stop this and Castiel has to think quickly to try and minimise the damage. In the end he goes with the truth, tells Dean that they knew of the plan and got there too late, that this is not his fault, that as the righteous man he is the only one who can stop it.
He wishes that he knew what it all meant, that he could give Dean the answers that would allow the hunter to heal a little, but they do not tell him much and even with the hunter calling him on his limited knowledge, there is little more that Castiel can tell him. All he knows is that their fate lies with this broken man.
"Well, then you guys are screwed," there is more emotion here, more heartbreak, than Castiel has ever heard in one person and it touches even him. "I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me." His self doubt has been magnified a thousand fold by these harsh truths and Sam's abandonment, and Castiel has to lean back in his chair as he sees tears begin to fall because he does not know what to do.
He stares at the ceiling for a long moment before reaching over and laying his hand over Dean's the touch gentle and he knows that the hunter understands the compassion and comfort that it is meant to offer. Zachariah is calling for him, however, and he knows he cannot stay. So he stands and goes to the side of the bed, looking down at his charge. Dean is haggard and drawn, still a long way from healing fully, and Castiel knows that he will not heal well if he continues to mentally berate himself this way. The angel brushes two fingers lightly across the hunter's forehead, putting him into a deep, healing, sleep, one that he has been ordered not to give.
For the first time in his existence he has disobeyed. He suspects that it will not be the last.