Dean? I know you're recovering but I just wanted to see- well I suppose you'll let me know when you're fit again.
…
I have a feeling am certain that Hadarniel and Ambriel telepathically communicate. I'm not offended; trusting me completely would be foolish on there part, given all my previous mistakes. Still, it can be lonely in the car.
…
The topography here reminds me of purgatory. Without monsters and leviathan, of course. By the way, thank you for leaving a gun in my glove box. I assume it was you. I'm sure it will prove to be useful.
…
I had hoped to speak with you … well it's no matter. I assume you are still recovering. Take care of yourself and please give Sam and Kevin my regards.
…
"Castiel? Are you ready?"
The sun set as Castiel closed his journal, running his fingers over the now-worn leather cover, and carefully stowed it in the glove compartment. He removed his gun to make room, tucking it into his jeans. Hadarniel watched him carefully.
Castiel nodded at his question and stepped out of the Cavalier into the balmy summer evening, this time in St. Louis, Missouri. For once he wished his car was black and easily hidden in the shadows, but parking far away would have to suffice.
Ambriel sidled up to him as they started to walk towards the dark, hulking shadow of the abandoned hockey arena. Castiel had been surprised at the location, but Hadarniel swore that his visions led them here. Ambriel remained quiet, her sneakers making soft scuffing noises on the sidewalk. Ever since Dean was injured, a tension settled over them that time had yet to heal. Ambriel spoke even less than before and Castiel didn't do anything to stop it.
"We may be walking into a battle, Castiel." She finally uttered.
Castiel snorted. "I was under the impression that we don't know anything about what we're walking into."
"Patience, Castiel." Hadarniel growled. "Your humanity has made you callous."
Castiel rolled his eyes but remained silent. They neared their destination and he pulled out his gun, trying to feel for Dean's handprint in the grip. Dean had shown him how to shoot, but Castiel still longed for his lost angel blade. He glanced enviously at Hadarniel and Ambriel as theirs materialized.
They huddled close to a small side door into the arena, Ambriel pressing her ear close to the rusty metal. "Thirty to forty demons inside. All in hosts. I can feel Abaddon, but she must be behind a warded wall of some kind," She whispered.
Castiel nodded. "Wards are useless against me," he half-snarled. He checked the gun one more time to make sure that his bullets were inscribed properly with devil's traps and demon stunning runes. "Any angelic energy?"
Ambriel squeezed her eyes shut tight as she strained to listen again. "I'm feeling… something. Something that feels like grace." She glanced at Hadarniel. The soft-spoken angel nodded in agreement.
Castiel breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm his thumping heart and shaking hands. He found that "his" body became sensitive to danger once his grace had been taken by Metatron. His mind was still a trained soldier of heaven. His body used to sell ad-time for AM radio.
"I'll go in first," He said, his voice trembling minimally. Ambriel began to protest but Cas cut her off. "Listen. They may have banishing sigils set up. I can lure them out, distract them for a moment, and then you two can come in and blast them away."
"Of all the stupid plans, Castiel. What good will it do if you get killed—"
"Enough, Ambriel." Hadarniel interupted. "Castiel's plan is as sound as possible. Any wound he sustains we can heal. There will be no need to hide our powers once we are revealed."
Ambriel pursed her lips and nodded; her eyes still fiery. Castiel tore his gaze away and placed one hand on the blackened doorknob while the other gripped his gun tighter. "Wait for a gunshot," he muttered. Ambriel and Hadarniel flattened themselves against the outside wall of the arena, all but invisible to any demons that may be waiting behind the door.
Hadarniel looked at Castiel and nodded, and Castiel heard the softshuckk of the deadbolt releasing. With a quick twist Castiel threw the door open and strode inside, gun raised.
Blackness consumed him. The silence was absolute and his human vision made useless by the darkness. He could hear his own heartbeat and muffled footsteps on the dusty floor. He remembered a time when he had gone into a warehouse with nothing but a bleeding chest and a fire in his belly for humanity. At least one human.
A click sounded behind him and, one by one, florescent lights burst on, light flooding the room. The arena was trashed. Clearly no one had played hockey here in a long time and it showed in the layer of grime that covered the floor and overturned tables and chairs of the lobby. The smell was foul, tainted with sulfur.
He followed his nose, circling and scanning the room for any sign of movement. He heard an inhale, followed by a voice.
"Oh Castiel. I'm so glad you're here."
Castiel whipped around towards the direction of the voice. Nothing.
"I've just been itchin' for a fight."
He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked internally. The female voice was definitely not inside his mind. He looked around. Speakers lined the walls, and the voice boomed from all of them.
"Of course, we haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet. But I do always enjoy an encounter with your friends."
She laughed softly.
"Now you can meet some of mine."
Suddenly, a wet cloth soaked in a sickeningly sweet-smelling liquid slapped over his mouth, sealing his mouth shut with a rough hand. An arm locked around his neck. Castiel thrashed, dropping his gun and kicking his legs out, but the fumes were already taking effect.
He heard the voice fading. "And counting down, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...
Hey Cas,
I'm back on my feet. I woulda been fine two days ago, but Kevin gave me a dose of somethin' so he and Sam could stitch me up, and whaddya know, it turns out my substance tolerance is pretty much zero. I'm usually more of a fifth of whiskey and hydrogen peroxide kind of guy, and not even that after Purgatory. It's kinda funny, turns out all the bad guys really need to knock me out for two days is a double dose of Benadryl. The arm's okay. I won't be doing any major league pitching for a week or two but it's all good.
Thanks, you know, for the other day. I know I was seriously out of it, but it was good to have you there. Ya know, figuratively. It was probably tough to not be able to zap and fix everything, and I'm…sorry if I reminded you of that. I didn't want to make you feel like crap, I just needed to hear your voice. I went back and read some of it, and yeah, I was laying on some heavy shit. There's some stuff there that we'd been kinda dancin' around, and um…maybe we should talk about it. If that's something you want. You can um…let me know.
Yeah I left the gun in there just in case. I remember Bobby told me once you'd had a good handle on a sawed off, but those are kind of frowned upon in civilian vehicles. I just thought…wait. What did you want to talk to me about, Cas? Why are you bringing up the gun all the sudden? Are you…what are you guys doing out there? I'm startin' to read some clues here Cas and it's makin' me nervous. You'd let me know before you went off on some suicide angel mission, right? Right?
Cas?