Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this mess for me and Gredelina1 for all your help and support. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It means the world to me.
Chapter Eleven
Dean was waiting impatiently for Sam to get back. It was still early, and if he'd had a good night's sleep before leaving, he wouldn't be there for hours, but Dean suspected he'd be there soon. Sam hadn't been sleeping well since Lucifer was taken, so he wouldn't have slept long.
He stood at the kitchen window, holding a mug of coffee in his hands and staring out at the yard. Bobby and Castiel were at the table eating breakfast. Dean had skipped it, having no real appetite. His head felt better though. His pupils had returned to normal and the weakness had passed. He figured he'd gotten off lucky. Bobby and Castiel seemed better, too. The mystery was still why Bobby's place had been rolled at all. They'd cleaned up and found nothing missing.
"He's not going to come any faster just because you're staring," Bobby said.
Dean turned to face him. "I know."
"Then sit your ass down and eat something. He'll get here when he gets here. You said he sounded fine on the phone and he'd taken care of the wound. He'll be okay."
"You might feel better if you ate," Castiel said.
Dean shook his head. "Not hungry."
Castiel frowned. "You need to take care of yourself."
"Thanks for that, but I am fine." He heard a rumbling engine and turned back to the window. The Impala was pulling around the corner and coming to a stop. "You were saying?" He went to the door and opened it as Sam climbed out of the car. His relief at Sam's arrival quickly became worry when he saw his brilliant black eye. "What happened to you?"
Sam strode across the yard and up the porch steps with the grey box in his arms. Dean stepped back to let him enter and watched him as he crossed to the counter, put down the box, and poured himself a mug of coffee.
"Sam!" Dean said.
Sam sighed. "Some assholes tried to pick a fight with me last night in a bar. One of them got a lucky punch in." He probed the corner of the bruise. "It's fine. I took care of them."
"Are they alive?" Castiel asked.
Dean glared at him, disbelieving the inappropriate question.
"Yes, thank you, Castiel," Sam said. "They're alive. They've got some very mild injuries compared to what they wanted to do to me, and they're probably going to think twice about attacking someone again for no damn reason, but they're fine."
Castiel nodded, satisfied. Dean was going to have a talk with him next time they were alone about the question. He'd never had the best social skills, but there were some things that were just plain shitty to ask, no matter what was on Sam's arm. He conveniently forgot the fact he had seen Sam pound the two guards into unconsciousness the night before. He knew that was just because he had been protecting Dean.
"You hurt your arm any more in the fight?" he asked.
Sam pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt and looked at the bloody dressing covering it. "Huh. Might have popped a stitch."
"Let me see." Dean reached for the dressing and tugged on it before Sam could pull away. The stitches were broad and too tight; the skin around them was white and pinched. One stitch at the edge had torn. "Damn, Sammy."
"You stitch this with your eyes closed?" Bobby said, getting to his feet and peering at the wound.
Sam pulled away from them and rolled down his sleeve to cover the wound. "It's fine."
"It's going to scar nasty," Bobby said.
Sam shrugged. "Then Lucifer will take care of it when he gets back."
There was absolutely no doubt in his words. Now that he had the Blade, Sam was apparently more confident than ever that he would get his lover back. Dean was glad, as it was better than him breaking down and despairing. He even felt a tingle of nerves for himself at Lucifer's return. Things with him and Sam would be right when the archangel was back; he was sure of it. Sam would be back to his open, too soft self, and Dean would be able to relax.
Sam picked up his coffee and sipped it, his eyes drifting to the grey box on the counter.
"That's it then?" Bobby asked. "The Blade?"
Sam nodded. "That's it."
Dean thought he saw a glint in Sam's eyes. He quickly discounted it as the light though, not wanting to look too closely at what might be there while he was feeling good about Sam.
"Can I see it?" Bobby asked.
Sam didn't answer, but he pulled the box towards him and lifted the catches to open the lid. He reached inside and lifted the Blade by the handle. He held it out in front of him, and Bobby stepped forward to get a better look. Castiel pushed his chair back hard, scraping the legs on the floor, and quickly walked away.
"Problem?" Sam asked him truculently.
"That is the weapon of the very first murder," Castiel said.
"Good to know it works then," Sam said evenly.
"It's definitely a scary looking thing," Bobby said.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's powerful, too. I can feel it."
Castiel narrowed his eyes at him but Sam seemed unconcerned. He was turning the Blade from side to side as if admiring it.
"You should put it away," Castiel said.
Sam rolled his eyes but he wrapped the Blade in the cloths it had been stored in and put it back into the box. He closed the lid and looked around the room. "Any word from Crowley?" he asked.
"He disappeared after dropping me back here last night," Dean said. "Haven't heard from him since."
"Well he needs to get his ass here," Sam said. "Sooner he finds Metatron, the better."
"Are you so eager to use the Blade already?" Castiel asked.
Sam froze and his expression became stony. "Am I eager to get the man I love back where he belongs? Yes, Castiel, I am. I'm eager to free all of your family. You think that makes me selfish maybe?"
"No," Castiel said. "I think it makes you impulsive."
Sam cursed and walked towards him. For a moment, Dean thought maybe he was going to attack him, but he merely brushed past him as if he wasn't there and went to the liquor cabinet. He took out the copper bowl and bags of ingredients needed for a demon summoning.
Dean watched him, only looking away as his phone rang. He frowned as he checked the caller ID. "Walt? What's going on?"
"I was going to ask you the same damn question. What's with the demons?"
"They're being taken out by a rogue angel," Dean said. "I thought Bobby already called you and filled you in."
"He did, which is why I was surprised when I spotted a whole swarm of the bastards moving last night."
"A swarm of demons?" Dean repeated in surprise, turning to look at the others.
Sam and Castiel returned his look, but Bobby was moving across the room to the bank of phones on his wall, one of which was ringing.
"Yeah, demons. I thought you Winchesters were supposed to be smart. There's a bunch of them moving across the country, passing through Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado. Basically, all the states surrounding…"
"Wyoming," Dean breathed. "The Devil's Gate."
"Exactly. Me and Roy are on our way there to check it out now, but we thought you would be able to save us a trip. You don't know anything about it?"
"Nothing," Dean said. "We were on a run in Missouri last night. It's nothing to do with us."
"It is now," Walt said. "We're all going to have to band together to take care of this. There's more than there was last time you two busted it open."
"Wait one damn minute," Dean snapped. "We didn't bust open anything. We were there to stop it last time. If we hadn't been, it would have been a helluva lot worse."
"Yeah, sure," he said dismissively. "Shame you weren't there this time, I guess. Now we've got an ass-load more demons to deal with."
Dean bit down his anger and said, "We'll get right on it." He didn't bother to say goodbye. He merely ended the call and stuffed the phone away.
Bobby was still talking, "Yeah, Rufus, I know. I'll let you know what we find." He hung up the phone and said, "Ornery old bastard."
"What's happening?" Castiel asked.
"Something popped open the Devil's Gate in Wyoming last night." Bobby said.
Sam stared at him a moment and then walked into the hall. Dean followed him, his heart sinking as he realized where Sam was going. He pulled open the closet door, and they both saw the safe with its door ripped off at the hinges. The devil's trap that was etched into the steel door had been broken by a deep scratch. It was empty of all but a few of Bobby's more precious books and some paperwork. The antique gun that had been there was missing.
"Well, we know what was taken," Sam said bitterly.
Dean cursed. "Why didn't we look?"
"I don't know," Sam said stiffly. "Why didn't you?" He walked back into the library and said. "The Colt is gone."
Bobby nodded slowly. "Figured. Dammit!"
"Who do you think it was?" Castiel asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "I can think of only one demon that's got something to gain out of swelling his ranks, can't you?"
"Crowley," Dean spat.
Sam went back to the table where he had been setting up the summoning spell. He quickly lit the candles and tipped the ingredients into the bowl, then cut across his palm with his switchblade and dripped the blood into the bowl. He threw in a lit match and the flames licked up.
"Et ad congregandum… Eos coram me."
Crowley appeared with a suitably harried look on his face.
"Crowley," Sam growled.
"You've heard then?" Crowley said. "Good. Saves me having to slow the explanation for the kids in the back." He jerked his head at Castiel.
"What did you do?" Sam asked darkly.
"Me? Nothing! In case you're forgetting, I was with you and Squirrel last night."
"For all of five minutes," Sam said. "We have no idea what you were doing before or after."
Crowley grunted a laugh. "Yeah, I thought it would be fun to go up against myself with an army. That sounds bloody hilarious. No, you idiots, it wasn't me. This is something that was done to me. While I was providing a car service for Mr. Concussion over there and saving the guards from being pounded into meat by you, Sam, someone was working to depose me." He pulled out a hipflask from his pocket and drank a swig. "That's the stuff."
"Who is trying to depose you?" Dean asked doubtfully.
Crowley sighed. "It seems my leadership style isn't to everyone's taste. There's been rumbles for a while, but as I was Lucifer's appointed, they didn't strike. Since Satan got locked up tight, they've been plotting against me. It's someone called Ambrose. Damn stupid name if you ask me. Anyway, he's been turning my people against me on the quiet and yesterday he decided to take a shortcut and cracked open Hell. Now it's me against the pitiful number that escaped Metatron and the backstabbing bastards that are after the throne. They're coming for me, and I'll be lucky to last a week."
"I don't believe you," Bobby said stolidly.
Crowley clapped a hand to his chest. "That hurts, you know. I've been good to you all."
"You've been good to yourself," Castiel said.
"You know what, if I want to hear from the baby human, I'll ask. Let the grown-ups talk, Castiel."
Castiel glowered at him but didn't speak.
"Why should we trust you?" Dean asked.
"Don't," Crowley said. "I don't trust you either. Moose threated to stab me last night after all."
Castiel's eyes darted to Sam and Sam looked blankly back at him. "Problem?"
Castiel shook his head despairingly.
"Trust me or not, the fact is there's hundreds of demons topside now, coming for me, so we have to act quick if we're going to save me."
"Because that's our biggest concern," Dean said sarcastically.
"It should be. I'm the only one that has a chance of tracking down Metatron. Without me, you're pretty much screwed, so you're going to need to work with me. I've come through for you with the Mark and Blade and I will find Metatron, but you have to quit with the bitching and make sure Moose doesn't come at me with that nifty Blade next time he gets a little hormonal."
"You just said you're our best chance at getting Metatron, so why exactly would Sam come after you if you've done nothing wrong?" Bobby asked.
"You missed the hormonal part then," Crowley said with a roll of his eyes. "He's not Mr. Emotional Health right now, it he?"
Dean frowned at him. Sure, Sam hadn't exactly been his best self right lately, but he seemed to be doing better now. He was talking more, saving Dean's life even. And, okay, he was pissed about the colt, but he wasn't raging out at them or downstairs pummeling the punchbag as he had been for weeks. He was doing good.
"You'll be fine," Sam said stiffly. "Bring me Metatron and there will be no need for me to hurt you."
"That's reassuring," Crowley said. "I'm off. Do me a favor—if you see any murderous demons asking about me, stab them and let me know in that order. I'll get back to finding Metatron, and I'll let you know when I have the little squit. Okay? Good."
He disappeared without a sound and Sam sighed as one of Bobby's many phones started ringing.
"You better answer them," he said idly. He went to the counter and picked up the box containing the First Blade. "I'm going to work out a while."
Dean listened to his heavy footfalls on the wooden steps to the basement and he nodded. He was working out again, but he was still talking. He was doing better.
So… The colt is gone, the gate is open, and Crowley's saying he's about to be deposed. So much bad news for the Winchesters.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx
