Here's a bit of a longer chapter for you today- hope you enjoy!
Dean was nowhere to be found when Sam trudged his way into the kitchen the next morning, making a quick stop at their frequently used coffeemaker and taking his steaming cup to what he imagined would be known as their dining room, settling into one of the large wooden chairs and opening up his laptop. His initial plan was to check the papers for a case, seeing as they had nothing on neither the Abaddon nor the Metatron front, but pretty soon he found himself getting up to dig through the Men of Letters archives for the thousandth time, searching for anything they'd missed on Heavenly gates or how to smoke out a Knight of Hell. It wasn't until a few hours later that he noticed the continued lack of activity. It had to be at least ten in the morning by now, yet Dean had yet to make an appearance. Sam couldn't remember the last time his brother had slept in past eight. He paused in his research, suddenly anxious. It was strange that Sam hadn't heard even the slightest noise in all this time. Even when they were avoiding each other (as they often were these days), the bunker was a fairly open space, and sound travelled easily across the echoing walls. Sliding from his chair, Sam made his was towards Dean's room, pulling out his gun as he did so. It was silly, he thought, but better safe than sorry. It was just so quiet. He paused outside the elder hunter's door, listening.
Nothing.
Sam turned the handle slowly, gun at his side as he pushed his way silently into the room, eyes sweeping the dark space. Dean was there on his stomach, face turned towards Sam, covers twisted haphazardly around his ankles. Unmoving. It was a weird kind of unease that settled over Sam. There was something wrong with the whole scenario. First, the sleeping in, and second, the fact that Dean had trained himself to wake at even the slightest noise. And even though Sam was quiet, he had never been able to sneak up on his brother before. Not once. Moving slowly, Sam stepped completely into the room, leaving the door cracked so that the light from the hallway illuminated Dean's unconscious form, casting shadows across his face. Still, there was no change. Sam couldn't remember a time when Dean didn't shift in his sleep, at least a little. He was always moving.
Sam didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to make sure his brother was still breathing. It was inexplicable and irrational, just how badly Sam needed to see just one slight movement, to hear one soft exhale. He stepped closer, leaning in, the gun gripped loosely in his hand.
That one step was enough.
Dean was out of bed before Sam could even blink, body flipping expertly to the side of the mattress farthest from the door, hand reaching to grab the gun that rested on the bedside table there. It wasn't until his finger was positioned against the trigger that Dean's vision finally caught up with his movements and he flipped the safety back on, immediately dropping the gun onto the bedsheets, straightening up violently.
"What the hell Sam?" He bellowed, sweeping a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly with adrenaline.
"I..." Sam had no words, still frozen in shock at the speed at which his brother had moved. It had been fast even for Dean. Almost inhuman.
"Who the hell sneaks up on a guy while he's slee..." Dean paused, his gaze finally landing on the Taurus gripped in his little brother's hand. "Sam...?" he asked warily, eyes flickering back and forth between Sam's face and the gun.
"No I...Dean I didn't hear you get up. It's past ten and it was so quiet...I thought maybe something happened so I was coming to see if you were okay..." Sam tried to explain, immediately placing the weapon lightly on the tall dresser nearest the door. "Dean," he said, turning back to his brother, "I was just checking on you. You never sleep this late."
Dean nodded slowly, his eyes still darting back and forth; first towards the clock on the nightstand to check the time, then back to the gun, then at Sam.
"There's uh, there's coffee ready and I was gonna maybe make some eggs or something if you...wanted some?" Sam said after another moment.
"Yeah okay," Dean replied, rolling out his shoulders and moving to put his own gun back on the nightstand. He then proceeded to straighten out the sheets on his bed as he did every morning, a ritual instilled in both of them by their father that Dean still followed after all these years, though Sam had given it up long ago. Not knowing what else to do, Sam left his brother's room and made his way to the kitchen, pulling out a skillet and a carton of eggs to start breakfast.
Dean joined Sam just as he was divvying up the eggs he'd cooked, placing half on a plate for his brother with a slice of toast on the side. Dean mumbled his thanks, grabbed his plate, and immediately disappeared down the hall. Sam watched him go, considered following, and then sat down at the table with his eggs and a tall glass of water.
The next few days passed with mind-numbing routine. Sam awoke early, went for a run, ate, and then settled back into what seemed like a fruitless search for answers on where Abaddon might be and where Metatron might strike next. It was a miserable way to pass the time, even for Sam, who had always enjoyed research. There was just no system to this kind of research. It was just shuffling through ancient papers and the most recent news articles, hoping an answer or a tracking spell or something would pop out of nowhere and give them a direction to go in.
Most of the time all he found was more nothing.
"We gotta go." Dean's gruff voice interrupted Sam's thoughts one morning as he was polishing off the last of his breakfast. He watched as Dean shuffled his way towards the sink to discard of his empty plate before turning to face Sam. They ate in separate rooms a lot now, with Dean always drifting off to some distant room to work on his own research...or stare at the walls all day, Sam had no way of knowing.
"What's up?" Sam asked, standing quickly to get rid of his own plate.
"Cas just called," Dean said, shaking his phone in the air. "Says he's got an idea on where this doorway to Heaven is. Somewhere in Stillwater Oklahoma. Needs our help."
"He needs our help getting into Heaven? Isn't that kind of off limits for us?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "All I know is he asked for our help. You coming or not?"
"Yeah, coming."
The ride to Oklahoma was turning out to be another silent one with the exception of the music humming softly (softer than usual, thought Sam) through the speakers. After a while, it became unbearable.
"So what do you think we can do?" Sam asked.
"What do you mean?"
"With this whole Heaven thing. I mean we're not really the best people to call in this situation. Mostly because we're, uh, people. It's just kind of weird isn't it? Doesn't Cas have all his angel followers to help out with stuff like this?"
Dean was silent for a while, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. "I don't know," he finally replied, eyes still on the road. "Maybe he just doesn't trust them. It's hard to know who's really on your side sometimes."
"Right but still," Sam pressed, "I'm just not sure what we'll be able to do..."
"That's why we're going Sam," Dean interrupted, suddenly annoyed. "Cas will fill us in. If we can somehow help in getting the angels back to Heaven, I'll do whatever it takes."
Sam sighed, not wanting to push anymore. He could easily see this attempt at conversation turning into another fight, and he would rather take the silence for the next four hours than fall into another pointless feud. Whatever it takes, he thought dully, casting a glance at his brother's right forearm where he knew the Mark still rested, currently concealed under his jacket sleeve. That was always your problem, wasn't it Dean?
Cas looked nervous.
It took a while for Dean to identify the expression worn by the usually stoic angel, and when he finally did, it only served to hike up his own anxiety.
"What's up Cas?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the Impala and made his way over to where Cas stood. They had parked in front of the Sunlight Inn just outside of Stillwater as per Cas's instruction, though the building looked anything but "sunny." It shaped like a large brown "L," with thin white doors that spanned the inside wall every few feet and had taken on more of a faded rust color over the years. The thin morning drizzle that had begun to fall only added to the desolate picture. Cas stood right at the intersection of the "L" in front of room 12, his eyes flickering from Sam to Dean and back again as they walked over to stand just a few feet away.
"I'm glad you're here," Cas said, addressing them both. "We have been able to locate the doorway, but we don't have much time before it moves again. We'll have only a small window within which to strike."
"That's good Cas," Sam said, casting a quick glance towards the sky as the rain picked up suddenly. "That's really good news. I"m guessing you've got a plan laid out? So can we head inside and see what you've got?" He moved towards the door to the motel room, only to have his way blocked, Cas's hand outstretched.
"Cas, what's wrong?" Sam asked warily, taking a step back towards Dean, who tilted his head to the side, regarding Cas curiously.
"What do you mean 'we'?" Dean asked. "Your angel buddies finally cracked the code? I feel like if that were the case, you wouldn't really need our help too, right?"
Sam had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Dean was bringing up the exact concern that had almost ended in an argument between them hours earlier. But as Sam watched Cas stiffen, eyes now resting on Dean, he focused his attention back on the current situation.
"No I..it has become increasingly difficult to trust my brothers and sisters, even those who have sworn their loyalty to me. With something like this, I can only afford the assistance of those who will not betray me. That's..sort of why we're meeting like this," Cas said. "There's something you should know before we attempt to go through with this plan. Something that might deter you from helping me."
"What?" both brothers asked simultaneously.
"It's difficult to explain..." Cas hedged, and Sam didn't miss the way his eyes slid towards the door of the motel as he spoke.
"Cas. Spill." Dean growled. But Sam wasn't in the mood to wait for an explanation. Four and a half hours in the car with an irrational brother would do that to you. So he pushed his way past a protesting Cas and reached for the door, twisting the handle violently and opening it wide.
Everyone froze, including the tall figure standing just inside the room. Sam's voice cut through the silence a moment later, harsh and disbelieving.
"Gadreel?"
Cliffhangers are great, aren't they? Okay, don't answer that lol. Anyways, feedback is great (as usual) and thanks so much for your continued interest!
