Six
Fleming Family Motel
New York City, New York
Wednesday 9 June 2010
A frantic banging on the door wrenched Dean out of the first restful sleep he had had in weeks, propelling him to his feet with one hand grasping for the demon-killing knife. His eyes flitted to Sam and Cas, noting that Sam was already reaching for the gun by his bedside, while Cas was dazedly rising from the chair where he had likely spent the night.
Dean was across the room in seconds, approaching the door with caution in case there might be an angry hunter with a sawed-off on the other side, then chanced a glimpse through the motel door peephole.
Upon recognizing the figure outside, he groaned and rolled his eyes, reaching for the lock.
"Dude, it's six in the morning," he grumbled as he hauled open the door, "tell me why I shouldn't just shoot you right –"
"You lied to me!" Professor Yong cried as he barged into the room, messenger bag flapping and cheeks flushed with color. Dean wasn't sure if that was from his agitation or the sweater-vest he was wearing; most likely the former, considering it wasn't terribly warm outside. The hotel room was another story, so hot and stuffy that Dean had slept in nothing but a bra and boxers the night before. He'd probably have gone to bed shirtless, if he hadn't been sharing space with his baby brother and an ex-angel.
"Sure, come right in," Dean told Yong dryly, closing the door behind him. Sam and Cas both relaxed incrementally, but remained standing.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Yong continued to rant, bow-tie absurdly askew and waving something in his right hand accusingly. "This isn't something I want to find out from – if I had known what kind of baggage you guys had – I should never have –"
"Whoa, whoa, Professor, calm down," Sam said, now out of bed and crossing the room. He had his concerned, damage-control look on his face and his hands were held open in a pacifying gesture. "What's this all about?"
"You have those!" Yong said, pointing at Sam's chest.
"Tits?" Dean couldn't resist asking, earning twin dirty looks from Sam and Yong.
"No – the tattoos," Yong snapped, nodding at Sam's where it peeked out from beneath the collar of his overlarge shirt, and then at Dean's.
"Oh-kay," Sam affirmed slowly. "Yeah, sure. But so do you."
"And your name is Sam," Yong accused, tone frosty, making Sam's eyes widen fractionally. The professor pointed at Cas without looking away, "and his name is Castiel – and – and he was an angel. And if he pulled you –" the finger now jabbed at Dean, " – out of Hell, then…then you're Dean. From the books."
"From the…?" Dean trailed off, and then understanding set in when he noticed exactly what it was that Yong was waving around at them; the familiar black spine of a paperback. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, for Chrissakes…"
"I mean, obviously I'm missing something, but that's…too much to be a coincidence," Yong continued, his voice sounding like he was edging towards hysteria. "But why do you look – like that? And why would you want to go to Hell again? Sam's right there, so the brother story is obviously false – and where is the Impala?"
"Oh, sure, make it sound like I abandoned her on purpose," Dean snapped, at the same time that Sam remarked sourly, "I thought Chuck said he wasn't going to publish those anymore."
Yong's eyes widened, and he looked like he was trying to decide whether to burst into tears out of panic or elation. "So…it's true then. I mean, I thought, there was an off chance…but you're really…?"
"Let me see that," Sam said, not waiting to be offered the book and instead grabbing it from Yong's outstretched hand. Cas wandered over as well, cocking his head at the paperback with mild interest while Sam began to read, "'Supernatural: Lazarus Rising – Dean wakes up in a pine box, freed from Hell, and seeks out Sam and Bobby. Their joyful reunion is cut short, however, by whatever raised Dean in the first place.'" He gave Dean a hard look. "Sounds like the publisher is picking up where the series left off."
"But why?" Dean demanded. "You know what? Screw why. I'm calling Chuck right now and –"
"That is inadvisable," Cas spoke up. "Any contact with the prophet might tip off Raphael to your location."
"The prophet?" Yong squeaked. "Raphael? Like, the archangel?" He looked awed. "So now, not only do you guys have demons after you, but angels too? Oh, man, I was right – why didn't you tell me?!"
'It's a lot worse than that,' Dean wanted to say, but settled for a tart, "You know, you were having less of a freak out when you found out angels were actually real than what you're doing right now. What gives?"
"Because all that stuff that happened in the series – I thought they were made up! But if they're real…I mean, I always thought the books were bullshit. Accurate enough that maybe a hunter had written them, but the plots…" He shook his head. "If stuff like that really happens…"
He didn't seem able to complete the sentence.
"Yeah, well, it's real. It happened. We're over it, moving on," he rattled off.
"And you never answered why you look like –"
"We're moving on," Dean elucidated, not wanting to go into detail.
Yong raised a hand in silent defeat. "No, okay. You look great. Really nice." He laughed nervously, "Although, I'm kind of glad you look the way you do, because, uh, if you looked the way I pictured you in the books I don't think I'd be able to look you in the eye." He attempted to meet Dean's gaze, went beat red, and looked away quickly. "Then again…"
"Just don't tell anyone about us, okay?" Sam cut in as Dean began to consider the pros and cons of stabbing Yong with the demon-killing knife. "This is a temporary thing, but still."
"Who am I going to tell?" Yong squeaked. "I don't know if you've noticed, but people who help you tend to die. And I mean, I don't want to die, but…you guys are the closest thing I've got to finding my father, so…"
There was a tense pause, and then Dean spoke up stiffly, "You'd better have had a smarter reason to come barging in here than just bringing up those books."
"Uh, yeah, actually," Yong said, sounding sheepish. "Jane – I mean, Sam emailed me yesterday to say you had probably gotten hold of a spell to jumpstart the ritual?"
"We don't physically have it yet," Sam said. "There was an incident the other day which kind of…delayed things, but we've been told we'll have it by today or tomorrow."
'Don needs to recharge his batteries after dealing with the stalker witch,' Dean thought in amusement. 'Assuming he'll even have batteries after Maggie's done with him…'
"That's still farther along than we were," Yong said optimistically, and reached into his bag. "I brought along my dad's journal to see if we could maybe parse the rest of the ritual. Now that we've actually got a chance…" He trailed off, and then turned hopeful eyes on Cas. "A lot of it's actually written in Jeju dialect, which I'm not great at deciphering. Could you…?"
'Bullshit,' Dean thought immediately, considering Yong had been perfectly capable of reading the thing when it was just him and Sam.
He was about to point this out, but Cas was already moving across the room and Dean's attention was drawn instead to his friend's jerky, uncomfortable movements. Cas ignored Dean's inquiring gaze, which was slightly weird, but after a second Dean decided Cas was probably just tired.
Yong laid his father's journal out on the table atop the research the brothers had been doing since arriving in New York, pushing aside a few pages that had fallen out with repeated use.
"In theory, we have the spell accounted for," Cas said gravely, "but according to this we will need a keystone –"
"A what?" Sam interrupted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and ambling over closer. He had pulled on a sweater, although that was probably more modesty than actual cold.
"Picture the spell as being the actual door into Hell, but there's a lock on it," Yong explained, sounding excited. "The keystone is what helps you open it and go through – or, at least that's what I think the notes say. Could be something to do with soup."
"No, that comparison is sound," Cas assured him quietly. "When my garrison rescued Dean from Hell, we made use of something similar."
Which, okay, new information.
"Okay, so where do we find one of those?" Dean wanted to know. "I'm guessing we can't just pick up a rock up off the side of the road, huh?"
"A key to Hell would have to be forged in Hell, or in Hell-like conditions," Cas mused thoughtfully, leaning over Yong's and Dean's shoulders. "Consistency varies according to each plane or dimension; I would imagine here on earth, a stone similar in nature to obsidian might suffice."
Sam said something to that and Yong answered, but the actual gist of the conversation momentarily passed Dean by, because he found himself slightly distracted by Cas's close presence. It was a fact which he should have been used to. Except it was different, because for the first time, he noticed that Cas smelled – good; like coffee and fresh cut grass and something else –
'And I am putting way to much thought into that,' he rebuked himself, trying to derail those thoughts by concentrating on the discussion.
" – we'll have to come back to that one," Sam was saying, "What else?"
Yong flipped through a few dog-eared pages. "Well, there's a list of ritual items; most of them are pretty expensive, though –"
"Expensive we can deal with, as long as they exist," Sam assured him. "Go on."
"Right – uh, then you're going to need a guide. You can't just waltz into a Hell dimension and not know where you're going," Yong said.
"That makes sense," Sam put in. "If you look at all the literature on katabasis, all of them have some kind of directions or guide to follow."
"Yes, Dante and Virgil, Herakles and the gods," Yong agreed. Conversationally, he asked, "There's no actual map, but do you know anyone dead who might help you?"
"Who did your father contact?" Sam wanted to know.
"I think I saw something written several pages back," Cas said, and reached over Dean and Yong.
Yet again, Dean could smell him. It was really, really weird, because Cas had never had a scent before. There had always been that lingering trace of burnt ozone and cold that Dean imagined all angels smelled like, but nothing personal.
Maybe it wasn't personal, a small part of his brain mused. It could be that he was just smelling Jimmy's scent, although when he thought about it, he hadn't really noticed this particular smell when he'd had occasion to meet the guy.
"Hey Cas, is Jimmy dead?"
Dean's question was met with silence, and when he looked up three sets of eyes were on him: Yong and Sam seemed slightly thrown-off, but Cas only tilted his head to one side.
"His soul passed on to Heaven when Raphael slew me," he answered slowly, an inquiring note in his words. Yong made a strangled noise at that revelation.
"Oh," Dean said, unsure of why there was an odd sense of relief at knowing that. "Cool." This time both Cas and Sam looked at him like he was crazy, and he mentally reviewed what he'd just said. "Oh – no, I meant. It's a good thing he's not suffering? And you know, maybe he could be our guide?"
"I would not feel…comfortable, requesting Jimmy's help in this, considering all that he has already given," Cas said after a moment of thought, and then added, "Besides, I believe ideally, a soul from the realm we are seeking to enter would be more suitable. It would not need the same protection as we would when we travel."
"Which brings us to the most important part of this entire thing," Yong spoke up hurriedly, while Sam shot Dean a 'what the hell?' look. "'The Protection of Death'. None of the other stuff matters unless you can get that, because as far as I know, only the souls of the dead can enter the Afterlife. And usually that means they're not coming back, so you're going to need some kind of supernatural exemption card."
"Bari said we could ask any other death god," Dean suggested. "There's got to be a whole bunch of them."
"There are quite a few deities associated with death," Yong agreed, "More than a few. Death is such a vital rite of passage in any belief system, given our own cultural preoccupation with it, that –"
"Yeah, yeah, everyone thinks Death is great," Dean made a dismissive gesture, "You ask me, the guy needs to get checked for tapeworm, with the amount he eats."
"'He'?" Yong asked, and then his eyes widened, "You mean you've – ?"
"Met the big guy? Yeah. One time too many," Dean shuddered, remembering being immobilized by the empty eyes of the Great Destroyer. "And before you suggest calling him up, don't. He was pretty clear on not wanting the Cage opened up again."
'And on that note, I've got to find a way to get him his ring back without actually having to see him again,' Dean thought dimly. 'I wonder if he uses FedEx?'
Yong's eyes remained as wide as plates.
"I've obviously missed a whole lot...damn it, and the next book doesn't come out until next month." Dean jabbed a finger at him warningly, lips pursed and Yong cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh…well, moving on. Heh." He swallowed. "Now that I know they really exist, there are a few pagan gods we can try looking up. I think we'll need Cas – Castiel's know-how there."
Yong sounded uncomfortable trying to use the nickname Dean had given the angel, and Dean tried not to feel too smug about that. Drooling fanboy could suck it.
Dean made a disgusted face at himself. 'No, wait, knowing him he might.'
And, whoa, again, bad imagery!
"…not completely sure about the local psychopomps or even if location is a factor," the professor continued, "but the major religions of the world are pretty obvious choices. Hades, Anubis, Morrigan – there are even gods of other domains sometimes associates with death, like Persephone or Kali –"
"Hey, there's an idea," Sam said. "Then again, she might still be a bit ticked at us for dropping her off at that truck stop outside Muncie."
"Screw that, we saved her life," Dean pointed out. "And Bari said that's a huge deal. We should –
But what they should do was interrupted by yet another loud pounding on the door. Everyone froze for a moment, before a muffled voice called out, "Jane? It's Sarah."
Dean shot his brother a lewd look, and Sam quickly shoved the Supernatural book under some of their laundry.
"Don't say anything to her about who we are," Sam ordered Yong, while Dean strode to the door and opened it up.
Sarah was standing on the stoop, one hand on her hips and a container with four cups of coffee in the other.
"Well, damn, if any of that's for me, I might have to kiss you," Dean said slyly.
"I think your husband might object," Sarah replied dryly, striding past Dean and setting her burden down.
Dean grimaced and replied in a would-be-light tone, "Well, you know how every red-blooded American guy loves a bit of girl-on-girl in the morning."
Sam shot him a scandalized look, while Cas looked away and murmured, "I am not American."
Sarah blinked, curious, and Sam quickly amended, "He's from Canada."
"Oh," Sarah said, like it explained a lot, and then peered over at Yong. "Sorry, I don't think we've…if I had known they had company, I would have brought more than four coffees."
"I do not drink it," Cas said while Yong quickly whisked his journal and other materials off the table.
"Sarah, this is Professor Yong from NYCU," Sam introduced, "Yong, this is Sarah Blake. She works with art and relics." As they shook hands, he turned his attention back to Sarah. "How are Maggie and Don?"
"Back home and resting, as of last night when I stopped by – and calling off the divorce. Apparently Don did a hell of a lot of grovelling," Sarah said, while Dean helped himself to one of the paper cups. "They asked me to give you this. Don said you fulfilled you end of the deal."
She held something up to them, and Dean saw that it was one of those two-inch long flash drives that secret government agencies were always trying to get their hands on in the movies.
"That's it?" he asked, incredulous at the sight of the small device.
"Yeah."
"I thought it would be, like, on some kind of scroll."
"Witches have computers too," Sarah said, sounding amused. "The magic's been infused into the words, you just have to read them."
Sam stepped forward and reached for the drive.
"Not so fast," Sarah said, drawing away before he could grab it. "There's a catch."
Sam frowned. "When isn't there?"
"It's spelled so that only I can unlock it for you," Sarah told him, crossing her arms defiantly. "Maggie and Don want to know the reason you're trying to get to Hell."
"'Maggie and Don', huh?" Dean repeated snidely, putting down the coffee he had been about to drink. "Why don't I believe that?"
"You can believe what you want. But they told me that opening the gate requires calling upon the demon they serve – meaning it's a one-time thing, and once it's done they're both probably going to be in some hot water," she replied calmly. "So you're not getting it until I know why you want to go there in the first place."
"And what, they asked you to report back?" Sam wanted to know.
"They told me to use my judgement," Sarah stated.
From the mulish gleam in her eyes, arguing with her wasn't going to work. Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, who nodded slowly.
"Our brother Adam is trapped there," he said. When Yong made an incredulous sound at the back of his throat, he added, "We only met him recently, it turned out our dad had a…thing once, and he…"
"The kid was normal and got mixed up in our shit and ended up in Hell for his trouble," Dean ploughed onward. "So now we're trying to get him out." He glared challengingly at Sarah. "And if that isn't worthy enough, you can take your spell and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Sarah pursed her lips for a moment, and then nodded, handing over the drive.
"What about the spell?" Sam wanted to know.
"I lied," Sarah said easily. "I just wanted to know why you were going through all this trouble – though the part about the demon is true. It's a one-use kind of spell." Then, without waiting for a response or to be invited, she peered over at the research Yong was still clutching, "So what else do you need to pull this thing off?"
Dean grimaced, torn between being angry or once again impressed by her. Deciding it was too early to try to discourage the woman, he picked up the coffee again and instead watched how his brother was taking the new development. Sam was eying Sarah and shaking his head, like he couldn't believe she was real.
'Even after everything, he still likes her,' Dean thought to himself, as Yong filled her in on the requirements for the ritual. Cas watched the exchange warily, like he was trying to understand something. Likely how Sarah had suddenly become part of their little team; when he looked up at Dean, questioning, Dean made a pacifying gesture with his hand. They didn't really need Cas to go all Old Testament on a potential ally, mortal with a dislocated shoulder or not.
Dean was going to have to explain the concept of hunter networking at some point, but right now he was too tired and too invested in the piping hot cup of black coffee to care. Cas appeared to take this as a sign to relax, because he once again joined the conversation.
"It has been quite a while since I interacted with anyone from that particular pantheon, but I believe the ritual will be similar to the one we performed to summon Bari," the ex-angel said. "Although, I don't believe any of us wish to voluntarily sever our hands for the cause, which is unfortunately a requirement."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "Yum."
"Does it have to be a fresh hand?" Sarah asked, earning incredulous looks from Sam and Yong. She shrugged, "Maggie had me purchase a Hand of Glory at an auction down in New Orleans last year, and then decided she didn't need it. It's been rotting away in a curse box, but I can probably buy it off of her at a reduced rate."
"There is no specific requirement that it be newly severed," Cas said after a moment's thought. "When will you be able to procure it?"
"If I head out now, I can probably have it for you guys before noon today," Sarah said.
"That'd be great," Sam said genuinely. "Thanks Sarah. For that, and, you know, the coffee."
"I figured if I was waking you guys up at the butt crack of dawn, I might as well bring offerings," she shrugged. "I know I can't get started without a concentrated hit of caffeine, anyway."
She bid them all a brief farewell and promised to return in a few hours. Yong watched her go with a calculating expression on his face, which suddenly morphed into realization. "Wait a second…Sarah? As in…?"
"Yes," Sam said shortly, "and if you don't want to end up unconscious, you'll stop mentioning the books."
Yong looked away. "Right."
"Summoning Kali requires something additional," Cas said. "Fresh blood."
"Of course it does," Sam said wearily. "That doesn't mean we have to bleed someone out, does it?"
"No – just enough for her to imbibe as part of the rite. Menstrual blood would be ideal."
Sam, Dean and Yong all made identical faces at that.
"Why do you say things I can't unhear?" Dean groaned, and when Cas opened his mouth he went on, "Don't answer that."
"Any alternative?" Sam choked out. "We're fresh out of that."
"Thank God," Dean added, refusing to think of the fact that at some point that might not be the case. 'Just, no. I am getting my body back before then.'
"The blood of a virgin would also suffice," Castiel supposed. "It would be considered pure and untainted."
"Oh, well, good, we've got that covered, right?" Dean said, nudging the ex-angel playfully on his uninjured shoulder.
Cas stared at the spot where Dean's elbow had touched him, and then looked up blankly. "Technically, this body was Jimmy's. It was not cobbled together from nothing, but restored to its previous condition both times that I was resurrected."
"And Jimmy was married," Sam finished, realization tingeing his words. "Crap."
They were silent for a moment, and then the brothers looked at Yong in unison.
The professor noticed their expressions and yelped, "Don't look at me! I'm in a committed relationship with a barista who's a tiger in the sack. And I faint at the sight of blood, anyway."
Dean made a face. "Great."
"You or Sam would fit the requirements," Cas said suddenly, tilting his head like he was sizing them up. "Both your bodies are newly crafted, and in the sense that is important to the spell, you would both be well-suited."
"I thought you said our blood was too precious?" Sam inquired.
"It is too precious to smear on walls where any angel could trace it if they tried, or to leave in a bowl," Cas said, voice almost chiding, "As Kali drinks blood, there would be no remnant of it after the spell was carried out. Also, your blood in particular would satisfy the spell's requirements of a valuable offering."
"Fine, but Sam's going to be our donor today," Dean huffed.
"What? Why me?" Sam demanded.
"Because, asshole, knowing your girlfriend, she's going to find a way how to stick around for the ritual –"
" – she's not my – !"
" – And you had the bright idea to tell her that Cas and I are a thing – a married thing," Dean continued, "and last time I checked, marriage involves sex, which we are not actually having –"
"Thanks for that image," Sam complained while color flooded Cas's cheeks. Probably that angelic modesty thing again. "And it's not like we have to announce out loud that we're using virgin blood in the same room as Sarah. You're just being a dick."
Dean fixed him with a significant stare. "You really want to be the one cutting on me, Sammy? You know the exact amount of pressure to use? What about the right knife? Or do you want to spend the rest of the day haulin' my ass to the ER because you scratched just a little too deep?"
Dean didn't like thinking or talking about Hell. Even though in the context of this conversation it was geared toward trying to remain practical, he especially didn't like the idea of using whatever depraved skills he'd learned down under on his brother. Still, while Sam had told him about some of the stuff he had done while he was hunting on his own, that was limited to torturing demons for information. Dean had long since learned that humans – even if they were only souls – were fragile.
'But if Kali thinks that means she's going to have some kind of pagan lojack on Sam because of this, I'll show her just how fragile gods are,' he thought with a determined frown.
Cas was actually meeting his gaze right now, a silent question there. Dean remembered how unhappy Cas had been when Uriel had wanted him to torture Alistair; obviously the ex-angel was worried about Dean's mental state.
He shook his head, returning the gaze with a shrug of indifference. This was unlike that day in the warehouse. Sam must have followed their silent conversation, because he sighed.
"Fine, I'll do it," he said, before adopting a peevish look and pointing out snidely, "but the next time we need a virgin sacrifice, that's on you."
"Oh, hell no," Dean replied forcefully, recognizing Sam's attempt at lightening the mood for what it was. He allowed himself to grin. "As soon as I can, I'm going to rectify my little virginity problem. Once again, I've been –"
"So help me, Dean, if you say 're-hymenated' once more in this lifetime, I will cockblock you so hard you'll die a virgin," Sam promised him.
(*)
'Dean was dead-on,' Sam thought, with the usual annoyance that came from an older sibling being right.
Sarah was just as stubborn to be included as she had been when he first met her. After arriving with the Hand of Glory, she insisted on being around for the actual summoning of Kali, despite both Sam and Dean trying to convince her that it was dangerous and that none of this was her problem anyhow. Nothing could make her budge, and though he was pretty sure physically taking her down would work, Sam didn't really want to resort to that.
'Besides, maybe coming face to face with a Hindu war goddess will make her re-evaluate her life a bit,' he thought hopefully; Kali was freaking scary, and that was before she set herself on fire and brought out all her extra arms.
Toleration to Sarah's presence aside, Dean had practically pushed Yong out of the motel room when the professor casually suggested calling in sick to his afternoon lecture.
"If we live through this, we'll tell you all about it," Dean had insisted, already closing the door behind him as Yong tried to say goodbye to Castiel. "Friggen' fanboy."
"I do not believe that is the proper way to bid a friend farewell," Castiel had commented, although there was a dryness to his speech that Sam had come to recognize as his version of humour.
"Good thing he's not a friend," Dean had muttered, before heading out of the room to check out. They had decided that given Kali's taste for violence, a motel room was probably not the best place to summon her. Sarah had volunteered her loft apartment for the ritual, but Dean had overruled that, deciding on finding an abandoned house or farm outside of the city.
Once they had relocated, Sarah had helped them prepare, as Castiel was still supposed to be taking it easy with his injury. Several times Dean had to physically maneuver him into a sitting position while he, Sam and Sarah moved old furniture around the abandoned living room, ignoring the ex-angels protests about wanting to be useful as he did.
Still, Castiel got his way later when they started to place the ritual items within the cleared space on the floor, as he was the one who knew what he was doing and they didn't.
The dilapidated living room was darkened by closed blinds, and Dean had disconnected the ancient smoke detector in the room, considering with their luck the candles and incense might still set it off. The Hand of Glory was placed in a wide bowl, turned palm-side up to cup a mixture of hibiscus, sandalwood, ganja and water lily petals. Beside the bowl lay a smooth black onyx stone.
Once they finished setting up the makeshift ritual space, Castiel stepped forward and began to intone the quiet incantation, from memory.
Castiel would be the one to speak the invocation summoning Kali, not least of all because his pronunciation was a lot better than Sam's. Sam was surprised that Sarah hadn't commented on the guy's seemingly limitless knowledge of the occult, but it was possible she was sticking with her first impression of him being an 'academic'.
"Kali Mahamaya," Castiel began to murmur quietly, "hamēm suna…"
The constant stream of Hindi washed over them, and Sam found himself listening in fascination despite being unable to understand any of it. He was so lost in the sound, that Dean had to nudge him to remind him that he also had a part to play in this.
Wincing as the ex-angel expectantly held out a small clay bowl, Sam watched Dean take up the small silver knife and put it to his skin. His brother had an unreadable expression on his face, which Sam knew came from his dislike of the idea of cutting into him; still, Dean knew better than anyone just how much force was needed to get a certain amount of blood, and if Sam trusted anyone to do this, it was Dean.
His brother made quick, careful cuts, which stung but which Sam endured with ease – almost ten years in Hell had increased his tolerance for pain – although he heard a sharp intake of breath from Sarah's direction. Castiel collected the blood that ran down Sam's arms and wrists in the clay bowl, and then placed it on the table they were using as a makeshift altar.
While Sarah handed Sam bandages to staunch the flow of the blood, Castiel dipped the black onyx in the blood and placed it into the bowl with the herbs and Had of Glory. Using one of the candles to light the contents of the bowl on fire, he spoke the last word of the summoning and stepped back.
A horrendous smell of burning flesh and pot filled the room as the contents of the bowl smoldered and smoked. Then, without warning, the entire room trembled and the smoke in the bowl grew in volume, spilling downward and out until it took a vaguely humanoid form.
When it cleared, the familiar figure of a brown skinned, black-eyed woman in red and gold silk stood there. And judging from her expression, she wasn't happy.
"Who are you that you dare to summon me like a dog?" Kali hissed, looking at them each with fury in her eyes; Sam wouldn't have been surprised if there was actual flame burning in her irises. "Give me one good reason why I should not drain the blood from your bodies and bathe in it?"
"Aw, come on, princess, we're old friends, remember?" Dean suggested, and Sam held back a groan at his brother's lack of tact. "Muncie, Indiana ringing any bells?"
Angry eyes narrowed further, but there was a gleam of recognition there. "Michael and Lucifer's receptacles." She narrowed her eyes. "Your forms are different."
"That's a long story," Sam said, eyes flitting to Sarah who was staring at Kali in undisguised awe. Clearly she had never summoned a pagan god before.
"Too bad. I don't have the time to hear it," she said coldly.
Dean suddenly began to choke, grasping at his throat. Sam saw blood begin to leak over his brother's lips, but when he tried to make a move, the same thing happened to him.
'Well this was a great idea,' he couldn't help thinking as he gasped for breath.
Businesslike, Kali turned to Castiel and Sarah, ignoring Sam and Dean's choking. "What excuse do you two have to escape a similar fate?"
"They saved your life," Castiel told her quietly, face carefully blank and holding up a hand to keep Sarah from intervening. "You understand the bond that creates. Killing them would not erase it, and then you would never be free of it."
"Maybe," she said with a terrible smile that Sam could only just make out over his blurring eyes. Blood was running down his nose, now too. "But maybe I'm willing to accept that. I lost family in that godforsaken, rat-infested hole. And it's their fault."
"The angels would just bring them back," Castiel was saying. "They would be put back to the use intended of them by the Host, and then you would become a target again."
"More of a target than I am now?" she snapped. She peered closely at him. "And who are you, that you know so much about the Judeo-Christian tyrants?"
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you have an advantage right now that you are choking to death."
At Castiel's continued stare, Kali let out a huff of breath and snapped her finger.
Instantly, Sam could breathe again, and Dean let out a hushed string of swearing.
'Go, Cas,' Sam thought with a wheeze.
"Lady, if you do this to people who help you, I really don't want to see what you do to people you don't like," Dean rasped, his voice sounding like sandpaper.
"Are you guys okay?" Sarah whispered, speaking for the first time. She continued to stare at Kali, though, like she expected the same thing to happen to her, but Kali was once again focussed on the brothers.
"Why have you brought me here?" Kali demanded then, crossing her arms. "You're taking me away from urgent business in Afghanistan."
"We – uh, we were wondering if we could ask a favor of you," Sam said hesitantly, not liking the way her attention was suddenly sharply focussed on him. "See, we're trying to –"
"We need the Protection of Death," Dean broke in, his impatience obviously winning over caution. "We heard you can do that for us."
Kali blinked, obviously not having expected that. She gazed at Castiel, suspicious, and then back at the brothers. "You seek the Afterlife."
"More like someone in it," Dean corrected. "But yeah."
"And you think I would grant you this most sacred protection?" Kali scoffed. "Others have asked this of me, and I have refused."
"Had they saved your lives?" Sam reminded her.
She pursed her lips, sharp eyes watching him, and he had to force himself not to look away. Eventually it was Kali who broke the link, only to turn to the altar and pick up the clay bowl of blood. Frowning thoughtfully, she brought it to her lips, and Sam ignored the way goosebumps appeared across his back and arms at the knowledge that she was drinking his blood.
She turned back to them, lips stained red.
"Very well," she said, unconcernedly dropping the clay bowl to the ground, where it shattered. "I will grant you this protection, but under one condition. There is something I need you to do for me."
"Hey, lady, you're the one that owes us," Dean protested.
"And you're the ones asking for help, so the terms are mine to dictate," Kali replied, smiling unkindly.
Which was probably the best deal they were going to get that didn't end in them choking up their lungs, so after a quick glance to one another, both Sam and Dean nodded.
"I need you to find someone for me," Kali told them.
"If you ask us to find another damn witch, you can go screw yourself," Dean grumbled, ignoring Sam when he elbowed him.
"I have no use for a whore," Kali said airily. Sarah opened her mouth to object, but Sam managed to catch her eye before she did, and she closed her mouth into a thin line. "The person I seek is of a more distinguished pedigree."
"And you've never heard of Google?" Dean wanted to know.
She ignored him, and Sam tentatively asked, "Exactly…what kind of pedigree are we talking here?"
"The kind that can contain this," Kali replied, pulling something out from beneath her scarf. It was a necklace, he realized, and at the end of it a vial where something bright and smokey swirled…something very familiar…
"Is that…?" Sam asked, eyes widening.
"It is," Castiel spoke up, staring at the object in Kali's hands and then at her with a calculating expression. "Even mortal, I can sense it."
"Wait, what?" Sarah asked, wrenching her gaze from the alluring trinket over to Castiel.
"That's an angel's grace," Dean stated, ignoring her.
"Archangel's, actually," Castiel said. "Gabriel's. But it is not whole."
There was a pause as his words sunk in, and Sarah balked.
"Gabriel's?" she repeated. "The archangel Gabriel? Like, came to Mary and told her she had bun in the oven 'Gabriel'?"
"That's him," Dean put in, "Though we called him 'douchebag."
Kali bristled, and Sam quickly asked Castiel, "How do you know? I thought he died – I mean – he said he was dead, in that message he left to us."
"Only Death can truly destroy any being," Kali maintained coolly. "Until he has his say, there is no such thing as oblivion. Loki endures."
"Wait, Loki?" Sarah asked. "I'm clearly missing something here."
"Later," Dean cut her off, and faced Kali again. "So you're saying you can resurrect him?"
"Yes."
"Then why the hell didn't you do that before?" he demanded. "We could have used an archangel that actually liked humanity on our side when the shit went down!"
"Because she did not know it was possible," Castiel declared before the goddess could reply. Then, to Sam and Dean's surprise and Sarah's confusion, he tilted his head toward Kali deferentially, "I assume Gabriel left you something of his, something that retained a spark of his essence. Is that how Balthazar found you?"
Kali's eyes flashed in understanding. "Yes."
"Who the hell is Balthazar?" Sarah demanded, while Sam shrugged.
"Don't look at me, I don't know any more than you do right now," he said, "though I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Balthazar is his brother."
'Possibly the one who's been hiding Bobby,' he thought.
"You are the one who sent the angel to track down whatever shards of grace he could," Kali stated, and then looked Castiel over again. "Yet you are mortal."
"Yes, I –"
"Alright, time out, everyone shut up!" Dean declared, waving his arms in a demand of attention. He rounded on Castiel. "Cas, what the fuck is going on here?"
Castiel considered Dean for a second, and then an expression of guilt passed over his features. "I apologize. This was not relevant to your retrieval of your brother, and so I did not think it needed to be mentioned."
"Didn't think…?" Dean trailed off, anger and disbelief warring for control of his face.
"Raphael is the last archangel in Heaven, and has such as been attempting to restart the Apocalypse, as you know," Castiel explained. "With Michael and Lucifer in the Cage, the only one with a chance of stopping Raphael is another archangel."
"But you –" Sam started, but stopped when Castiel gave him a warning look. 'Oh. Right. Talking about how high on the food chain he was in front of Kali is probably not a good idea.'
"So, what, you left orders to find Gabriel with one of your dick brothers?" Dean asked.
"'Brother'?" Sarah spoke up, and Sam could hear frustration beginning to overtake her confusion. He opened his mouth to try to calm the situation, but Dean was ranting again.
"Why didn't you just tell us?! You trust him over us? Her, even?"
"I could rip your tongue out," Kali warned conversationally.
"I have been trying to keep you out of Heaven's affairs as you wished," Castiel explained, sounding annoyed. "And I had not realized that Gabriel would have entrusted anything to a pagan." He looked at Kali again. "Nor did I realize Balthazar would either. When he tracked the remnants of Gabriel's presence to you, his first reaction must have been to try to destroy you. And yet you stand here, with shards of Gabriel's grace intact. You must have been very convincing to persuade one of God's soldiers to leave an archangel's grace in your keeping."
"He seemed a little busy at the time," Kali replied, her tone suggesting she had no intention of revealing what had happened. "Something about a dumpy old hunter running him ragged. I suppose he simply couldn't handle the burden."
Castiel's eyes snapped angrily, and he made an aborted movement like he was going for a sword that was no longer there.
"Not the point, Cas!" Dean put in, his own annoyance effectively diffusing the situation. "This is something we could be helping you with."
"All while avoiding your enemies and trying to enter Hell?" Castiel questioned, and Sam nearly did a double take at the use of sarcasm. Even Dean was caught off guard, if his decision to clamp his mouth shut and glare was anything to go by.
Because unfortunately, Castiel was right.
'One problem at a time,' Sam told himself, checking to see if Sarah's head had exploded from information overload yet. He was just glad their identities hadn't come up yet. He was pretty sure that would be the tipping point.
"Look, whatever's done is done," Sam spoke up. "Let's try to deal with this Gabriel issue first."
"That would be wise, as we are not the only ones trying to find Gabriel's grace," Castiel agreed, grudging. "Or his new vessel."
"Raphael," Sam proposed.
"Yes," Castiel said. "Once he realizes that someone is trying to return Gabriel to Heaven, he will do his best to stop it from happening."
"Ninja turtle boy likes being the only cock of the walk, huh?" Dean posited.
Sam turned to Kali. "Why can't you just teleport up to whoever's sacred enough to contain Gabriel and ask them if they don't mind lending their body out long enough to stop Raphael?"
"If that were even possible, I would have done it already," the goddess sniffed. "This little summoning of yours? Is little more than an extremely powerful form of astral projection or bilocation. Those like me cannot simply appear and disappear on a whim – not since the old days. Which makes it a little hard to track down a vessel."
"Not only that, but only angels know the identity of their respective vessels," Castiel added, "and only they can make it known. The Host knew of you both because Michael and Lucifer were hunting you. But generally, we do not share our vessels' identities because it would be dangerous."
"So how the hell are we supposed to find Gabriel's vessel if no one but him knew where it was?"
"That is problematic," Castiel agreed. "It is possible that we could engage in research to track down the last vessel and then trace his descent, but there would be –" Castiel's eyes shifted out of focus, like he was realizing something, and then he was staring back at Sam and Dean as though something had just occurred to him. "You two."
Dean tensed. "What about us?"
"There was one place where the vessels of all the angels were written down," Castiel said. "The War Scroll."
"The Wa – wait, that thing from 1954?" Sam clarified.
"Yes. You have both seen it."
Sarah's head swivelled around to look at him. He winced, remembering that as an expert in relics, she would know about the missing end section of one of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
"But it got destroyed," Dean said, tensely. Sam knew he didn't like thinking about that particular trip to New York very much.
"It does not matter. You looked upon it. No doubt you would have glimpsed the lineage of Gabriel's vessels, whether by accident or by design."
"That's a great leap in logic, Cas, but I don't remember anything on it except for yours and ours," Dean said. He looked sideways at his brother. "You?"
Sam shook his head, then asked, "Besides, even if I did remember, what's to stop Raphael from just going back in time for it before it's destroyed? Or going back in time to when it was written?"
"The same thing which makes it impossible for any angel to do that," Castiel replied. "The scroll can only be seen by humans. Angels cannot even put their hands on it."
"So why can't they just mindfuck some Joe Schmo human to read it for them?" Dean wanted to know. "Zachariah got those religious fanatics to do his dirty work before."
"That would be impossible. Those scrolls were penned by prophets – God's might protects those scrolls, preventing any angel from gaining its knowledge," Castiel intoned. "Even through the use of…loopholes."
"Oh yeah? How can you be sure?"
"If it were possible, it would have been done already," Castiel said, sounding testy. "Raphael is nothing if not opportunistic."
Dean asked, "Then why do we have to worry about Raphael even finding this vessel?"
"Because while he may not be able to find the vessel immediately, he has the full power of the Host and all its tools at his disposal," Castiel said. "He can track omens, prophecies, convergent timelines – eventually he will find the vessel. I wouldn't be surprised if he has already narrowed down the time of birth and general area."
"So we have to get there first," Sam realized.
"Not only that – we must convince the vessel to take Gabriel's grace into him or her," Castiel said. "Otherwise Raphael will destroy every possible vessel to ensure he remains the only archangel in Heaven."
"Great," Dean sighed. "And how are we doing this again?"
"Well, not to interrupt your little brainstorming session," Kali spoke up, a sinister smile appearing on her lips, "but if you're interested, I may have a way."
Sam and Dean exchanged wary glances, neither of them liking the look on her face.
(*)
"Damn it, it's like the ice cream headache from Hell," Dean complained. "She mind-raped me – why didn't she mind-rape you? You totally have the nerd brain and she was lookin' at you, and everything –"
"Probably because I didn't spend the afternoon baiting her," Sam replied as he searched through online profiles. Typing the name 'Jason Williams' into the search engine kept bringing up links to the websites of professional athletes, and so he was hoping that the guy at least used Facebook or some other social media site. Other windows had links to census records and he was toying with the idea of hacking into the social security network.
It figured that even once Kali pulled her weird Vulcan mind-meld thing on Dean and he had rattled off the name they needed with a creepy, vacant expression ("Gabriel…borne by the progeny of Azaziah…Sidney Johnson, who begat Jason Williams…"), she had told them they would have to find him without her.
"If Raphael and his followers are already there, and they sense Gabriel's grace on me, I might as well just bend my neck and wait for them to chop it off," she had told them with a sniff. "Now if you excuse me, I have a flight to book. Call me once you find the vessel."
And after leaving a cellphone number, she had disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Sarah had stood completely still for a long moment, and then looked at Sam and Dean in turn.
"I'm going to…go get rid of that mess," she told them, slowly, like she was trying to keep her voice from wavering. Hesitantly approaching the remnants of the altar, like she was expecting Kali to jump out again and bite her, she took the herbs and the burned Hand of Glory and disappeared.
She stayed away a little longer than it should have taken. Sam had a feeling she was just trying to compose herself, because he didn't hear the telltale sound of a car door slamming or wheels on gravel. Kali wasn't exactly the fluffy bunny of the hunting world, and if Sam had only been a part of that world for five years, he would have needed a moment to figure things out as well.
'Of course, maybe she's just talking herself into getting the hell out of here,' he had thought as he booted up his laptop and started searching for their mysterious vessel. 'It'd be the smart thing to do.'
While he tried to distract himself, Dean and Castiel packed away whatever supplies they had brought inside with them.
"She shouldn't have been here for this," Sam murmured idly as he waited for his browser to load. "We should have made her leave after getting the Hand."
"'We'?" Dean snorted. "You're the one who wouldn't say 'no' when she invited herself along. And she was the one who didn't leave when we told her it would be a lot to handle. This is on you two."
"Then why didn't you step in and say something!" Sam grumbled. "You're not exactly known for keeping your opinion to yourself."
"I was busy trying to stop that nutcase from humping Cas' leg," Dean shot back, ignoring the sharp look of confusion the former angel sent his way. "Besides, wasn't it your cunning plan to have Kali scare the crap out of her enough that she wants to leave? This is a good thing."
"Yeah? And what if she doesn't?"
"Doesn't what?"
"Doesn't leave?" Sam pressed. "Remember last time? Instead of calling the cops on us, she helped us break into a crypt. We're not exactly dealing with some naïve girl next door. What are we going to tell her if she wants answers?"
"Why should we tell her anything?" Dean countered. "We're heading out as soon as you figure out where our vessel friend is. She's not."
Sam paused for a moment. "Maybe she should."
Dean whirled around to stare at him. "What?"
"That is not a good idea," Castiel stated immediately.
"Just…hear me out," Sam said, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Right now, we need all the help we can get. Yong's already in our corner – Bobby vouched for him, and he's got a personal stake in this," Sam went on. "Not to mention now that he knows who we are, he's probably going to lock himself inside a protective bunker because he thinks people who work with us get killed."
"Because they do," Dean put in.
"But Sarah's not completely on our side," Sam went on. "I mean, she helped us out with the witch and the summoning, because that's just the type of person she is. She helps people. But she also just heard a whole lot of stuff about us, most of it bad –"
"Your fault," Dean interrupted.
"Which might make her less inclined to help us," Sam continued on as though he hadn't heard, "And we need all the help we can get right now. With Bobby out of the game, and Cas grounded –" Castiel folded his arms, looking both regretful and annoyed, "– she could be useful."
Dean licked his lips and fixed Sam with a knowing stare. "You sure this is just about her being useful and not you wanting to bone her?"
"Dean!" Sam hissed. "God! What is wrong with you!"
"What? It's obvious you still have a thing for her," Dean shrugged. "And she strikes me as pretty open-minded, so the girl thing probably wouldn't bother her –"
"She's – that's not the point!" Sam attempted.
"Dude, you need to get laid. Probably more than I do. And right now she's your best option, unless you intend to invest in a pulse-action showerhead in the near future –"
"What the hell!" Sam groaned out loud, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. "Damn it, Dean, not everything is about sex!"
"Of course not!" Dean looked momentarily scandalized at the suggestion, and then grinned, "Some stuff's about pie."
"Okay, you know what? Fine, you're right," Sam muttered, looking away. "It's probably best if she stays here. I mean…what would we even tell her anyway?"
"Doesn't matter. We're leaving her here?"
"We've got to tell her something, Dean, especially after what she just saw. Damage control."
"You could always lead with the truth," Dean suggested. "I think we've established that she's pretty good with the weird."
"Yeah, no, obviously," Sam rolled his eyes. "But…how much of the truth?"
His brother sent him an odd look. "Wanna elaborate on that thought?"
"Obviously we'd tell her about the archangels and Lucifer and the Cage and all that, but…what about this?" he gestured at his chest meaningfully.
"She's gonna find out at some point – in fact, I'd be amazed if she hasn't heard about us through hunter channels," Dean shrugged as he threw a bunch of candles into a box. "Open-minded, remember? I bet she'd understand."
They heard footsteps on the porch outside, and Sam jabbed a finger at his brother. "Don't you say one word to her about –"
"Relax, Samantha, I'll let you be the bearer of that particular batch of bad news," Dean shrugged. "Just make sure I'm around when you tell her. I want to see her face."
"You know, I'm beginning to miss the days of working tech support at Sandover," Sam groused as the sound of the front door opening signified Sarah's return.
"Nah, that uniform made you look like a giant banana."
Sarah's expression was carefully blank as she entered the living room where they had conducted the summoning ritual, and after standing uncertainly for half a second, she sat down heavily on a moth-eaten ottoman and fixed them with an apprehensive look.
"So," she began, voice neutral. "Angels."
"Sarah, we don't have to…"
"Yes we do," she said, swallowing and setting her shoulders. "There's too much about this world I still don't know, and there are angels out there now, too..." She shook her head and leaned forward, a determined set to her brow and her fingers steepled beneath her chin. "So, they're real."
Sam exchanged a look with Dean, who made a 'hands-off' gesture, and then sighed. "Yeah."
"That's kind of…I mean, I knew demons…" she started, then stopped, a perplexed expression on her face, before she tried again. "If angels exist, does that mean…God?"
"Is a dick," Dean put in helpfully. Sam glared at him, and even Castiel offered him a look of resigned disapproval. Considering he was sure God had resurrected him in the graveyard at Stull, the former angel was back to having faith in his absent father. Not that Dean seemed to care about that, because he mirrored their unimpressed looks right back. "What? I'd like to see you argue that point."
"You could be a little more tactful about it," Sam chided.
"We don't have time for tact," Dean shrugged.
"It's okay," Sarah spoke up cautiously. "I'm not really into that stuff. I mean, my mom was, but after she died…anyway. I've always believed in deism, personally."
"Translation, for those of us who weren't nerdy enough for college?" Dean deadpanned.
"In short, it's the divine watchmaker analogy," Sam explained. "God creates the universe and then steps back to let it run on its own."
"Look how well that turned out," Dean grumbled. "Angels Gone Wild."
"You mean, angels are bad?" Sarah asked.
"No," Castiel told her firmly. "Angels are soldiers. We – they exist to follow God's orders and carry out His will. It is not within our – their nature to ascribe to dichotomies, only to ensure His will is done – and His will is just."
"Oh," she said, nodding as though she got it although Sam could tell she really didn't. She squinted at Castiel. "So, you were an angel?"
"Yes."
"But you're…not. Anymore."
"No."
"And you gave up your…'grace' was it?"
Castiel paused for a moment, glancing at Dean and Sam as though to ask if he had to continue the charade; when they both gave him identical nods, he tilted his head in acquiescence. "…Yes."
"Because you were in love with Erica," Sarah posited cautiously.
Sam noticed Dean flinch and Castiel's eyes suddenly flicker with something almost resembling panic, before he coughed, and said, "I love all my Father's creations, but humanity especially."
Which for some reason sounded almost like a cop-out to Sam, even though he knew it was true. Castiel always looked a little shifty when he attempted to lie, and right now he was sporting that same look.
'Maybe it's lying about being in love with a woman that doesn't technically exist,' Sam mused. 'I mean, he's never been in love, so I guess pretending he is, is weird. Even if it is really Dean.'
"But you married her," Sarah pressed. "I mean, you wouldn't have done that if –"
"Can we focus on something other than that right now?" Dean demanded, color rising in his cheeks and eyes shooting invisible daggers Sam's way. "Like the heavenly civil war that we're about to get in the middle of?"
"Yeah," Sarah said, sounding as though she was embarrassed for inquiring into their nonexistent personal life. She shifted uneasily, and then turned her attention on Castiel once again. "So that body – your body – is that a…a vessel?"
"It was."
"You mean it belonged to someone else?" Sarah's eyes widened. "And you just…took it?"
"Jimmy was a pious man whose faith was rewarded," Castiel said, his jaw tightening with something akin to anger. "He gave his permission for me to use this body. I had every intention of returning it to him before Raphael struck us down. His soul resides in Heaven now, and he is at peace."
"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," Sarah said quickly. "It's just…this is a lot to take in. Angels and vessels…I thought I'd gotten a handle on this supernatural stuff because I exorcised a few spirits, but you guys are…" Once again, she trailed off and then looked at Sam and Dean. "And you're both vessels too? To Michael and…" she swallowed, "…Lucifer?"
"Guilty," Dean said easily. "Though you can see we're both archangel and devil free, at the moment." He grinned lazily. "Care to guess who's who? I bet you it'd surprise you."
"That's not funny," Sam snapped.
"It's a little funny," Dean pointed out. "You know, after all the Apocalypse crap, if you sit down and think about it."
"Hold on, wait – the Apocalypse?" Sarah interrupted. "That's what's been going on the last year?"
Sam carefully hid his surprise at that. He hadn't realized that there were hunters out there that didn't know what was going on. He would have expected someone who was friends with two witches to have gotten the memo, but judging by Sarah's completely flabbergasted expression, that discussion had obviously never come up.
'I guess de-ghosting haunted antiques is a far cry from Revelations,' he thought as Dean said, "Got it in one – Lucifer versus Michael, Celebrity Death Match."
"But it's not going on now," Sarah said carefully. "I take it you stopped it."
"More like delayed it until it's actually supposed to happen," Sam corrected.
"How?" Sarah asked, genuinely curious.
"Hail Mary Pass basically," Dean said. "We managed to trick him into the Cage. Along with our pal Mikey. It's a lot more complicated than it sounds, but I figure you want the cliff-notes version of this."
Sarah made a choked noise, and turned her gaze to Sam, looking pained and impressed all at once. "Did you two…?"
"Nah, we didn't angel up and throw down against each other," Dean assured her, skating over the truth of what had happened. As much as Sam wanted to be honest with Sarah, he wasn't ready for her to know everything he had done up to the point where he said 'yes' to Lucifer. He was glad Dean was leaving all that out, even though his brother probably trusted him to reveal it on his own.
'Along with the fact that my body used to be male,' he thought grimly.
There were several moments of silence where she processed the story. Meanwhile Sam, and probably Dean if his expression was anything to go by, relived those tense thirty-six hours. Or, in Sam's case, almost ten years.
"So where does the brother in Hell come into play?" Sarah wanted to know, her tone tentative. "Or was that just a lie?"
"No, that part's true," Dean said grimly. "Know how we said we tricked Lucifer and Michael into the Cage?"
"Yeah."
"The angelic prick that is Michael went and shanghaied Adam before we could stop him."
"That's what you meant when you say he got caught up in your lives," Sarah murmured, sympathy and understanding flooding her words. "Did he…die?"
"No, pretty sure he's still alive," Dean said tightly. "He's just trapped in Hell, in a Cage with Michael and Lucifer."
"And that's why you're going through all of this?"
"He's family," Dean shrugged.
Sarah shook her head, and then exhaled lowly. "Wow."
"Yeah," Sam agreed
"So if you're vessels and you deal with angels all the time, why can't you just get one of your angel friends to help you free him?"
"Freeing a soul from the Pit requires the concentrated force of the Host," Castiel broke in, "which we do not have the luxury of now. And breaking into the Cage without freeing Michael and Lucifer requires something that is no longer in my power to give. As for 'friends', there are few angels whom would be trustworthy enough to call upon. Even then, they would not likely venture into Hell of their own volition for one mortal soul. The last time such a thing happened, we perceived it to be God's command."
"'We'?" Sarah repeated. "You've been to Hell? Holy –" She swallowed, looking sheepish, then cleared her throat, and asked, "Who was important enough to get rescued from Hell?"
There was a long silence in the room, where both Sam and Castiel's gazes went to Dean, who tensed and kept a determinedly blank expression. Sarah followed their attention, and her jaw went completely slack. "No way – you were dead?"
"Temporarily," Dean said stiffly. "And no, it wasn't because I killed babies or talked at the movies." He waved his hand, impatient and understandably reluctant to talk about that period of time. "Moving on."
But Sarah continued to stare in awe. "But you were important enough that God –"
"Hey, it's not what you think," Dean snapped defensively. "It was just Michael wanting his vessel topside, okay? Don't go thinking I'm some kind of…holy something or other."
"Your soul –" Castiel began.
"If you start waxing poetry about my soul again, I will beat you," Dean warned. "Screwy shoulder or not."
Castiel made a face that Sam might have described as a pout if he didn't know the ex-angel so well, and said mutinously, "You killed the Whore of Babylon. Only a true servant of God could have –"
"You know what? I've got a car to pack," Dean said, throwing up his hands and standing. "Call me when you guys stop gossiping about how I'm about to be canonized or some shit."
He stomped out.
"And that would be D – Erica exercising her remarkable capacity for denial until she pulls something," Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. Castiel looked torn, like he wanted nothing more than to follow Dean, but something was keeping him back. To Sam's surprise, he remained behind with them.
'Now that's weird,' Sam thought. Castiel was practically Dean's shadow since they had rescued him from Detroit, and all of a sudden he was discovering a sense of individuality?
"Okay," Sarah interrupted Sam's thoughts. "So, the angels aren't going to want to help. Or, some of them. Didn't you say there was another one? Balthazar?"
"Yes," Castiel sad, "he is an ally, but he is leading the angels who resist Raphael at the moment. I am…worried, though, that his capabilities are being stretched too thin."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"Balthazar's ability to help is severely limited," Castiel lamented. "I already overstepped when I asked to have him seek out Gabriel's grace…" He clenched his good fist. "Much as it goes against all that I am to say it, it is fortunate that he encountered Kali and that she proved amenable to taking up the task. It was…commendable, for a pagan."
"Right, scary goddess lady," Sarah put in, perking up a little. "Didn't she call Gabriel 'Loki'?"
"Gabriel was in 'witness protection', as he put it," Sam explained.
Sarah blinked.
"Witness protection," she echoed, incredulous.
"Yeah. He got tired of the angelic in-fighting and decided to run away and pretend to be a pagan for a millennium or two," Sam clarified. "Oh, and apparently he and Kali had a thing."
"So that's why she wants to bring him back."
"I guess," Sam agreed. "I'm still a bit confused about that, because she was kind of pissed at him the last time they were together."
"I feel like I've fallen into an episode of Passions," Sarah confided.
"You do not appear overcome by lust," Castiel observed.
"Pop-culture reference, Cas," Sam corrected because Dean wasn't there to do it, while Sarah appeared bemused.
"One last question," she pronounced.
"I don't believe you," Sam told her plainly, earning a small smile from her. He ignored the way his stomach did a little flip at the sight.
"Should have asked this at the beginning – why does Gabriel – or any angel for that matter – need a vessel?" Sarah wanted to know. "You guys are all powerful, right? Don't you have your own bodies?"
"Our true forms are harmful to mortals, and when we walk on earth we must take human form," Castiel explained.
"Okay, I get that – but this whole Apocalypse thing. If Michael and Lucifer were going to battle it out, why did they need bodies to do it?"
"Because it was prophesied," Castiel said.
"But why?"
Castiel stared at Sarah as though she was speaking some language that he didn't understand, and Sam quickly spoke up, "I'm guessing whoever made the prophecy had a reason, but Cas wouldn't know, right?"
"It was, as you say, above my pay grade," Castiel agreed hesitantly.
"Is it prophesied that Gabriel needs a body? Or is that just Kali wanting her boyfriend back?" Sarah wanted to know, which honestly, hadn't even occurred to Sam to think.
"Not entirely," Castiel allowed. "With his grace scattered, Gabriel will be unable to reform by himself within the next few billion years. A receptacle is required to contain his grace, as more than a few shards in one place will be noticeable. Rapahel's forces could find and take it from Kali at any time, right now."
"And finding a vessel helps, how?" Sam asked.
"If we find the vessel and the vessel agrees to take the shards in, the grace will be safe. The body will provide a place for Gabriel to become whole again."
"But what about the person? The vessel?" Sarah asked. "Do they just…disappear?"
"The souls of vessels remain in the same body, usually. However, in this circumstance, I would imagine that it will be a long while before this vessel cedes control of himself even if he agrees," Castiel said. "Not with so little of Gabriel's grace within him. If we are unlucky, it will take his entire mortal life or longer time before Gabriel is made whole."
"You're kidding me," Sam choked, because he did not want this war in Heaven taking the rest of a mortal lifetime, least of all because it meant he and Dean might be stuck as women forever.
"No. Once he is found, we will need to ensure his protection," Castiel went on. "Obviously it is my hope that our allies will be able to track down Gabriel's grace faster than a mortal lifetime."
"I see," Sarah said, for lack of anything else to say.
Castiel nodded, and an uncomfortable silence passed over them, fraught with Sarah trying to process everything and Sam trying to talk himself into revealing the last little bit of information he had been holding back. He shifted uncomfortably, opening his mouth several times to speak up, and closing it just as abruptly when he couldn't find the words.
Castiel observed him with vague interest, training his clear blue eyes on him curiously. Sam started to feel a little bit like a goldfish being watched by a really invested kid.
"Hey, Cas, why don't you go check on Erica?" Sam suggested, smiling encouragingly. "Make sure she isn't angsting all over the car."
"That sounds unpleasant," Castiel frowned, although he rose to do just that.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Sam exhaled and turned to Sarah. "There's something else."
"I figured," she nodded. "Does it have anything to do with what Kali said? About how you and your sister don't always look like this?"
"Yeah," Sam said, and then swallowed. This was it – the perfect opening to admit the truth to Sarah. But right now, she was looking at him like a friend and without a hint of discomfort. That would go away when she found out that he was a guy she had slept with a few years before, only now with magically grown breasts and a vagina.
Or worse, she would be pissed off because he hadn't told her the minute he ran into her at Maggie Stark's gallery. Jess used to get unjustifiably mad at little stuff like that, which he had learned to live with, and now that his own brain was thinking on different wavelengths, he could sort of see that side of the story.
Didn't mean he wanted to experience the fallout, though.
"It's sort of a spell. We're kind of in our own…witness protection program," Sam explained hesitantly, completely waffling out. "There are a lot of people not too happy with our role in the Apocalypse right now –"
"But that wasn't your fault!"
"Try telling them that," Sam shrugged. "It never works."
"That sucks."
"Tell me about it."
"So how do you two normally look?"
"Uhm…bigger," Sam managed, his mind drawing a blank both at how much he should actually tell her and how to describe himself. He'd never really given it any thought before. "Shorter hair…kinda the same as now, only different."
Sarah laughed at this. "What, you don't have any pictures of yourself?"
"Not here," Sam told her. "We got rid of all our old IDs and pictures after the change, just in case."
"But you're going to turn back, right?"
"Eventually," Sam said. 'I hope.'
"Well, I hope it's sooner rather than later, because I'd hate to get to know you, then have you go away and come back a completely different person."
"I'm the same person," Sam protested quickly. "Just my looks are different. If I were to change back…you'd know."
'Or not,' he thought ruefully, considering their current situation.
"Is there anything else I should know?" Sarah asked.
The moment hung there between them, telling Sam it was time to confess.
"…Not really," he finally muttered.
"Good," she said decisively.
They were quiet for a spell, listening to the muffled sound of arguing out front – Cas was probably trying to convince Dean of the purity of his soul or something – before Sam spoke up again. "So are you…okay?"
"I'm processing," Sarah replied. "It'll take a bit."
"Oh." Sam looked away.
There must have been something in his tone, because Sarah asked, "Why?"
Sam frowned to himself as he thought about how he was going to answer her. Dean and Cas were right to have objections, but Sam couldn't shake the niggling feeling he had that it would be a bad idea to leave Sarah behind.
What was to say the forces of Heaven and Hell wouldn't decide to go after every person the Winchesters had ever met before Dean made his deal in an attempt to find them? Neither side was exactly known for their forgiving nature. A more immediate concern was the fact that Sarah was admitted friends with a bunch of witches and who knew what else. He doubted she would outright tell anyone anything about him and Dean, but even a small slip might cause problems. He was still wary of the Starks knowing that he and Dean had their bodies altered.
"Jane?" Sarah prompted, and Sam glanced up.
'Dean's going to kill me,' he thought as he made up his mind.
(*)
"This is the worst idea you've had in a long time," Dean muttered, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while they waited for Sarah to come out of her apartment. "We're burning daylight here."
"You've said that already," Sam answered with forced patience. "Six times in the last hour."
After Sarah and Sam had come out of the abandoned farmhouse, Sam had announced that Sarah was going to be coming along with them, all the while giving Dean meaningful looks that begged him not to argue. Despite the rush they were in Dean had decided to hear his brother out.
At the moment, though, he was sorely tempted to just peel away from the apartment before Sarah could return with her things.
"I too am somewhat confused," Cas agreed from the shotgun. "I thought you had agreed that leaving her behind would be in everyone's best interests."
"Well, I thought about it and I don't think it is," Sam grimaced, a petulant tone in his voice. "And I already told you why."
"Using Bobby being AWOL is still grasping at straws," Dean shot back.
"Dean, this is a huge pile of crap we've landed in, and we need all the help we can get."
"What the hell, Sammy, this is just our average Wednesday," Dean protested. "Bringing her along, she's just going to get in the way – or worse, get hurt."
"Who's to say she won't get hurt just for having some kind of connection to us?" Sam argued. "It's happened before, with Mom's people – all of them were killed because a demon decided it wanted to tie up loose ends."
"So, what, now you want to go find every person we've ever helped and make sure they don't have some kind of supernatural target on their forehead?" Dean snapped, "Or is it just the chicks you've slept with who haven't died yet?" Sam recoiled so violently it made the car move, and Dean saw the pain in his brother's expression through the rear-view mirror. He sighed, knowing he had just crossed a line, and rubbed his temple. "Dude, look, I didn't mean…"
"It's fine," Sam replied tightly, in a way Dean knew he wasn't fine with but was letting go in the interest of keeping the peace between them. "And no, that's not what I'm saying. It's just, she's here, now, and she does have connections, and we do need the help, so we should take advantage of it. Damn it, Dean, there are angels so determined to get to us that we changed our bodies – so, barging into this vessel's life and hoping Godzilla and Mothra don't notice? It just seems kind of sloppy. And as good an ally as Castiel is, what if they recognize him?"
"Not every angel in the Host has seen my vessel," Cas offered helpfully.
"But some have," Sam insisted. "And I doubt they're all friends with you. It's too much to hang a 'maybe' on."
Dean gritted his teeth. "We've made due with a lot less."
"Okay, what about having to keep our identities secret?" Sam pressed. "No offense, Cas, but you're not the most convincing when we're trying to pull a con – not yet, at least. And you're injured. If someone recognizes you, they'll definitely take advantage of that."
Dean turned around and fixed him with a sour glare. "What are you getting at?"
"Wouldn't it be a better option to have an extra set of eyes and hands?" Sam suggested. "It'd keep us from splitting our focus and then messing up the entire thing."
What he didn't say was that Cas screwing up a job was the least troubling thing that could happen. They both knew that if any angel that was loyal to Raphael found out Cas was alive – or worse, that he was human – they'd be in a whole other kind of trouble. Dean remembered how the angels had hunted down Anna after her defection. Cas's reasons for falling wouldn't be enough to sway those douchebags into leniency, and they all knew it.
"As much as I dislike this logic based on the premise that I am no more than an invalid, Sam makes an interesting point," Cas allowed after a second's thought. Clearly he was on the same page as they were. "Coupled with the other arguments, perhaps it would be best to bring her along."
"Whoa, hold on – best for her or best for us?" Dean wanted to know. "We're not exactly going to Candyland, here, and your brothers are dicks. She could get hurt – You don't want that, do you, Sam?"
"Of course not!" Sam insisted. "But at least we can protect her if she's in the same place as us."
Dean could see from both his brother and the ex-angel's expressions that they were in agreement on this, and he cursed the fact that he was in the minority on this one. One of the few things he disliked about Cas being along was that he tended to side with Sam on a lot of things, which left Dean as the odd man out.
"Sarah hears you talking about her like that, she's going to kick your ass," Dean pointed out moodily, giving in without actually saying so out loud. "She wasn't too impressed with the knight in shining armor act last time."
The woman in question seemed to notice the tension in the car when she returned with an old backpack, because she remained quiet as they head up the northbound I-95. On their way to Sarah's apartment, Sam had managed to narrow down their options as being primarily on the east coast, and after another hour's work he managed to discover the location of the vessel Dean had been mind-raped into revealing.
He shuddered at the memory of the phantom, cold claws going through his brain and decided that the next time they were stupid enough to contact a pagan god for help, someone else was getting their brain violated.
Sam had managed to pinpoint Jason Williams whereabouts using Facebook profiles ("What the hell is a face-book?" "Seriously? Can you come live in the twenty-first century please?" "Bite me.") and the social security network, and had discovered he was an eighteen year old student at Brookline High School in Boston.
Dean wasn't too pleased with the idea of going to some kid and informing him that the future of Heaven, and furthermore, the world rested on his shoulders, but the way Cas told it, this kid was still getting a better deal than any other vessel usually got.
And the knowledge that somewhere in the Pit, an innocent kid not much older than Jason was being flayed and burned over and over helped to desensitize him a little bit. Whether he'd actually be able to do anything about it when they came face to face with the teen, he didn't know, but for now, heading to Boston was at least doing something.
"They've got job openings at the school," Sam announced after an hour of uncomfortable silence filled only by Dean flipping through the channels trying to find some decent music. Not for the first time did he mourn the loss of the Impala and hold onto the vain hope that his tapes hadn't been destroyed in the fire.
Cas was asleep in the shotgun, twitching every now and then and murmuring incomprehensible words, while Sarah sent out a bunch of texts that probably explained to her usual clients why she wasn't going to be around for a while.
"Yeah? Well, you get to be the gym teacher this time, those shorts were way too short to be legal," Dean said. "And with my ass? I'm surprised I wasn't hauled off to jail."
"Just remember that your ass was bigger then," Sam told him sourly.
"Don't be a bitch."
"Jerk."
"Anyway," Sarah interrupted, leaning over to Sam and tugging his Treo out of his hands. "It says here that they're looking for substitute teachers for Art and English, which I guess settles who's going undercover."
"Wait, what?" Sam blinked, surprised.
"Do you know enough about art to be able to teach it?" Sarah inquired meaningfully. "I don't think so. And Castiel is injured, which won't look good in an interview, and Erica doesn't strike me as someone who's going to be able to explain literature to a bunch of bored teens."
"Hey, I read," Dean protested.
"Skin mags don't count," Sam muttered, quiet enough that Sarah didn't hear him but with him sitting directly behind Dean, it was easily audible.
Dean glared.
"Jane and I can handle this, and we can get close to this boy," Sarah said. "Just to make sure he's alright. And you and Castiel can check out his home life, maybe talk to his parents to get an idea of how he's going to react to all of this. I mean, we can't just barge into his life, right?"
"It's worked before," Dean muttered.
The rest of the three hour trip dissolved into a discussion of logistics and strategies, which Dean was more than happy to allow Sam to deal with. His brother had the patience to deal with Sarah, although Dean was pretty sure that was some version of foreplay.
Of course, if he had said that out loud, Sam would have decked him.
For a moment, Dean considered doing just that. It was almost worth it for the look on both their faces.
In the end, he decided to be the cool older brother and not to give into the temptation to tease. For now, at least.
They reached Boston in good time, although it took them a while to find anywhere to stay.
"Damn it, have either of you seen one motel since we got here?" Dean demanded, annoyed as they passed yet another picturesque looking bed and breakfast, probably run by some kindly old couple.
"It's Boston, what do you expect?" Sarah asked. "Their tourism industry is based on charming B&Bs and inns. Plus we're in the early days of their on-season. I'll be surprised if we even find anywhere that has room for us right now."
After an extra hour of driving around, they did finally find a small inn off the side of the highway. By that time, Dean was practically grinding his teeth in annoyance, and Sarah volunteered to get their rooms.
"Because if you go to reception now, they'll turn you away on principle," she told him as she got out of the car. "Hey Castiel, why don't you come with me? You look a little green."
"I do not enjoy driving," Cas admitted, unbuckling his seatbelt and following her out of the car.
After startling himself awake, the ex-angel had spent the rest of the drive curled tensely into the front-passenger seat, back to Dean. It bothered him, but Dean knew better than to ask about it while Sarah was around. Hell, he wasn't comfortable asking about it with Sam in the car either.
"Don't worry, buddy, we're going to fix that," Dean told him easily. "Soon as we get a better ride than this one. You'll see, we'll make a driver out of you."
Even as Sarah led him away, Cas's expression remained doubtful.
"She's got a point," Sam said, and Dean could hear the quirk of his lips as he grinned at Dean. "You kind of suck with people when you're in a mood."
"Oh, yeah, you're smug now," Dean deadpanned, glancing around to pin Sam with an unimpressed look, "but I'm still not one hundred percent on board with her being here. Plus, I notice you still haven't 'fessed up to her yet about who we are."
Sam pursed his lips. "I tried. I was going to. And then I just…"
"Pussied out?" Dean finished for him. "Telling her's not that big a deal."
"Yeah, it is," Sam protested.
"It's really not."
"Dean, once I tell her that, then I have to tell her other things. She's going to want to know more about the past five years," Sam muttered uncomfortably. "How we got to where we are. And not the cliff-notes version, either. And…on the off chance that she isn't majorly pissed that we've been keeping this from her, I kind of like her remembering me as 'me' and not as the demon-blood-junkie-vessel-of-Satan."
"But you are," Dean pointed out. "Or, you were. You can't change the past, Sammy. You just gotta deal with it."
"I'm glad you're so Zen about this, but it's not really about you. Okay, you went to Hell and you tortured souls – I'm not trying to devalue that, but Dean –"
" – sure sounds like it," Dean said quietly, reigning in the urge to punch Sam.
" – but you were in Hell because you sacrificed yourself for me. You did something so selfless, and in the end, I trusted a demon over you – I betrayed you and started the Apocalypse and I said 'yes' to the Devil, and he would have destroyed everything," Sam blurt out. "And I'm the reason Adam's still down there being torn apart, all because you're so invested in me that your guardian angel gave up his wings to get me out. Because he thought me being down there would be worse for you than Adam – when in reality, it's exactly what I deserve."
Dean exhaled a silent curse. The outburst was not entirely unexpected – to be honest, he had been awaiting his little brother's mental freak-out since the day Sam showed up at Lisa's house. Things had been so messy and busy lately, though, and they had been so concentrated first on finding Cas, and then on finding Adam, that Sam hadn't really had a chance to process things.
Seeing Sarah again and dealing with the fact that he obviously still liked her had probably put enough stress on the kid that his resolve was cracking.
'Girly hormones don't help, I guess,' Dean thought.
"Okay, listen up," he ordered, glancing back to the inn entrance to make sure they still had a time. "'Cause we don't have a lot of time for me to say this before they get back."
"What - ?"
"Adam is down there because Dad was a prick and didn't tell us about him. If we had known, we would have taught the kid – we would have protected him and kept him from saying yes to Michael. Then the dickless wonder wouldn't have piggy-backed into Hell with you. So that? That's not your fault."
"Dean –"
"And Cas trading his grace for you? Okay, that might have been inspired by the fact me and him are buds and we have that 'profound bond' you like to make fun of – hauling a person out of Hell does that," Dean allowed, "But he never would have done that if you were really the fuck-up you think you are. If Cas thought there was even the remotest chance you weren't worth being saved, he wouldn't have gotten you out. Even for me."
"But – !"
"And guess what, moron?" Dean went on, cutting his brother's protests off again, "He's responsible for you being out of the Cage now, too; which means you've got a connection with him, just like me. He's been on my ass for two years about not thinking I deserve to be saved, and so help me, I will get him on your ass about it too if that means you knock off with the emo-shit, got it?"
Sam was quiet for a moment, but Dean knew his brother well enough to know it wasn't an acquiescing silence. Sam needed some time to think this over and let it marinate a bit before he agreed that Dean was right and the smartest older brother ever. So instead of dwelling on whatever chick-moment they were on the verge of, he went on, "Now about Sarah? You've got to tell her."
Sam's head shot up. "Dean, I can't – !"
"It's going to come out at some point," Dean reminded him. "You've already lucked out about her not putting two and two together yet, but she's smart. Sooner or later, one of us is going to slip up. I'm actually amazed Cas hasn't already." He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and straightened himself back up in the driver's seat. "Now grow a pair."
They climbed out of the car, and Dean resolutely ignored the grateful look his brother sent his way.
"We're all set," Sarah said as they started unloading their things from the trunk. "You and Cas have the room on the first floor, and Jane and I are just upstairs."
"Wait, what?" Dean blinked.
"They only had a few rooms left," Sarah said, and then smiled kindly. "I bet it's been a while since you and Cas had some alone time. I can keep Jane occupied for a few hours." She turned to Sam and said, "Come on."
She didn't see the panicked look that Sam sent Dean, or the equally uncomfortable look Cas had on his face.
"She was very insistent," the ex-angel said quietly when Dean glared at him expectantly.
"I'm getting that," Dean groused. "Well, it's not like we can do anything about it right now. And maybe something good will come of this."
Cas glanced questioningly at him. "Good?"
"Yeah, maybe Sam will get laid," Dean joked, hoisting his duffel over his shoulder and grabbing Cas's as well. "Come on."
"I find that highly unlikely, given his reluctance to inform Sarah of his identity," Cas reasoned, following Dean into the inn and down the hallway that led to their room. "I may not be well-schooled in the rules of courtship, but I believe honesty is a component, yes?"
Dean snorted. "Dude, if that were true, I wouldn't have gotten half the amount of sex I've had. Girls let themselves see what they want, and if they want to see you as a stunt driver for Fast and the Furious instead of a homeless dude that hasn't shaved in a few days, they will."
"I see," Castiel said, his voice flat. "And these lies for the purpose of sexual relations appeal to you?"
"It's the only way to go," Dean agreed, opening up the door and walking into the room.
He stopped short as he got in there.
"Oh, hell no," Dean said, staring at the lone queen that took up most of the room. "I'm going to kill Sam."
"Why?" Cas asked, peering around Dean. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "I suppose, because he told Sarah that we are married, and she inferred…"
He trailed off, and Dean shot Cas a sharp look; he was surprised to see the troubled expression on the former angel's face. It was gone a moment later, as Cas shook his head slightly.
"There is no need for your discomfort," he told Dean, not looking at him and instead walking into the room with his duffel. "I will likely not sleep, anyhow. I managed to rest in the car."
"If you're telling me you're going to spend the night sitting in the chair looking at me sleep, you've got another thing coming," Dean snapped. "That's one thing when Sam's in the room too, but if it's just me that's creepy, dude."
"But –"
"We'll figure something out," Dean promised him, "but right now, I need to shower and we need to get some food." He grinned at Cas. "How's about testing out your food tolerance on a cheeseburger tonight?"
Cas's puzzling expression disappeared, and an almost shy one took its place. "I believe…that might make me happy."
(*)
Dean growled in frustration and thumped his fist angrily at the tiles of the shower.
He had to be doing this wrong – either that, or all women were secretly double jointed – because the position Dean found himself in was far from comfortable or sexy. It was also doing absolutely zilch to help him bleed off the tension that had been coiling in the pit of his stomach for the past four days.
It didn't help that this particular shower was the size of a British telephone box.
Warm water ran down his back and shoulders as he tried to maneuver himself into a better standing position, one foot on the faucet and weight balanced on the other. He made a face, because this didn't feel right either, and there was no way in hell he was doing this if he wasn't comfortable.
The whole point to this was to relax, but his brain kept getting in the way and his wrists wouldn't fucking bend that way!
'What. The. Hell.' he thought again, glaring down in the direction of the borrowed vagina – which he couldn't see because the borrowed tits were in the way. 'I've done this, like, a million times. Maybe not on me, but still. The mechanics aren't different, seriously!'
In the days following his transformation, he had been understandably upset at the literal loss of his manhood and hadn't paid too much attention to the new modifications to his body in any capacity that wasn't to complain. But once that wore off (mostly), he hadn't managed to hold back to curiosity at how things down there would feel.
He had already, occasionally, in the privacy of the shower, dipped his hand between his legs and sought out that little nub he knew drove women wild. And the sharp quiver of pleasure that it sent sparking unexpectedly through his body had been somewhat reassuring as well. But he had always backed off relatively quickly, because it felt too much like if he enjoyed anything in this body, it meant accepting it.
But in the past days, he had been so on edge, that his hands had wandered in that direction more often. And while gently teasing the sensitive flesh in that area – and yes, he was being a child about avoiding using actual names for things, because it meant accepting that they were attached to him – was more than gratifying, he hadn't gone all the way yet. So to speak.
Dean had done a lot of kinky shit, and he was game to try anything at least once, but getting his brain to shut up long enough to actually do anything right now was becoming a problem.
He tried leaning back against the tiles and continued to rub the small bundle of nerves in a slow, circular motion; a few failed first attempts had told him he was way too sensitive down there to try anything faster. As it was, the sensations shooting up through his nervous system and the heat moving through him felt good, but incomplete somehow. He needed something else.
'Need more room, is what,' he winced, once again trying to crook his fingers properly without twisting his wrist. How did women do this? He had never missed his dick more than he did right now, if only for the beautiful simplicity of jerking off. 'Of course, bunking with Cas means all those options are off the table.'
He smirked idly, momentarily amusing himself by imagining Cas's shell-shocked expression if he were to ever walk in on Dean sprawled on the bed, legs spread and fingers working the way they were now. Oddly enough, imaginary Cas's expression didn't stay shell-shocked; in Dean's mind's eye, it morphed into the same intense, penetrating stare that Cas had always fixed on him when he was still an angel.
There was a sudden strong pulse of pleasure that washed over him, making his hips jerk and he bit his lip, because that image was –
Dean froze in mid-motion, his hands immediately stilling as he realized what he was doing.
'Oh, fuck, no.'
He had the water turned off and a towel wrapped around himself so quickly, he was surprised he didn't slip as he hastened out of the shower. He busied himself with wrapping his hair up in the too-small extra towel and tried to banish whatever thoughts he had just been having. It was made all the harder because of the feeling of discontent that came from not getting off.
The mirror in the room was foggy, and he swiped a hand across it, revealing flushed cheeks and a panicked expression. He formed the latter into a glare aimed at his reflection, daring the woman he saw there to challenge him.
"Just because I'm stuck in this body, does not mean I'm into dudes," he hissed quietly in an attempt to reassure himself. "Especially not that one!"
He turned before his girl-brain could convince him that his reflection was giving him a knowing stare, and stalked out of the bathroom.
The curtains were shut, but ass o'clock in the morning still shone through the heavy red cloth, bathing the room in a pinkish hue. There was also an odd sound coming from the other side of the bed.
Cautious, because he really didn't want to get caught unaware while wearing nothing but a towel, he crept forward and peeked around the bed.
The sound was coming from the thick pallet of blankets on the floor beside it, and Dean relaxed momentarily. Weird sex-freak-out aside, Cas was the last thing on the long list of shit that Dean had to be afraid of.
Dean had made the nest of blankets up for himself the night before, arguing that Cas wasn't used to having to bunk out on floors the way Dean and Sam were. Cas had reasoned, once again, that he would likely spend most of the night awake and it was needless for Dean to miss out on sleep on his behalf. Eventually Dean had given in, but not without ensuring the pallet was at least comfortable.
Which it had appeared to be; Dean had noticed when he walked past it on the way to the bathroom earlier, Cas had been completely wound up in the blankets, sleeping like the dead.
'Except he's not right now,' Dean realized with a frown as he neared the thrashing figure that was Cas.
The ex-angel was writhing and mumbling something in his sleep, eyes closed in a frown and sweat beading on his forehead. He really seemed to be in distress, and Dean reached out to him, before pausing. He had just been thinking about the guy in the shower…while he was touching himself. Hell, he still had the remnants of that hot, shivery feeling running through him. How was he supposed to look Cas in the eye?
The ex-angel suddenly let out what sounded suspiciously like a whimper, and Dean's hesitation vanished. He clasped Cas gently on his right shoulder. "Cas, wake up."
"Dean," Cas groaned as his eyes shot open and, whoa, the hot shivery feeling that suddenly moved through Dean and settled somewhere behind his pelvis? Totally not caused by Cas's sleep-laden slur; it had to be the heating vent Dean was crouched next to.
Which was off.
He swallowed, attempting to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. 'Christ, I need my body back.' Out loud, he croaked, "You okay?"
Awareness seeped into Cas's eyes, which were oddly distended, and he sat up abruptly and pointedly faced away from Dean. "I am alright."
"Apparently you're not," Dean replied, trying to ignore the way his friend's body language actually kind of hurt. "Cas, man, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."
"Your…bath sheet is slipping," Cas hedged, still not looking at him, and Dean mumbled a curse under his breath as he reached down to adjust it before he accidentally offered the ex-angel a peep show. While he was distracted, though, Cas maneuvered up and around him, and by the time Dean managed to readjust the towel, Cas had slammed the door behind him.
"Sooner or later you're gonna have to tell me what's going on!" he said loudly, and when he didn't get a response, he grumbled and set about looking for his clothes.
Cas had been acting off all week, and Dean didn't want to admit it, but it was making him worry. The former angel was having more trouble sleeping, and the past few times he had awoken from whatever he was dreaming, he had either clammed up and refused to talk about it, or locked himself in the bathroom if they were in a motel.
And sure, everyone needed to be alone with their thoughts sometimes, and when you were sharing room with more than one person, the bathroom was sometimes the only refuge – as Dean had discovered. But it was getting ridiculous now.
Cas would make excuses, assurances that he was fine, but Dean had seen the freaked-out looks the ex-angel had been casting him.
Cas was anything but fine.
'Still, I'm sure he'll tell me when he's ready,' Dean told himself. Cas wasn't exactly known for bottling up his thoughts; on the contrary, he was annoyingly candid. Eventually his inexperience with suppressing human emotion was going to win out.
Deciding it was early enough that Sam and Sarah probably hadn't left for the job yet, Dean threw on some jeans, a bra and a Henley and headed upstairs to their shared room.
They had been in Boston for a day and a half now, working together to create a convincing cover story and doing recon. It wouldn't do to go after this Jason kid without knowing all the angles. It was too important that they get this right.
Sam opened up several seconds after Dean knocked, blinking the bleary stare of someone who had just gotten up.
"Have a good night?" Dean leered.
"Very funny," Sam said, adopting his usual unimpressed bitchface. "What about you and Cas?"
"Wore him out," Dean joked good-naturedly.
Sam bitchfaced and moved aside. "Thanks for the visual."
"What can I say? Ask and ye shall receive – whoa."
Sam and Sarah's room – which had two beds, Dean was annoyed to learn – looked as though a tornado had hit it. Although it was clear that Sarah was not around, from the look of the clothes and toiletry items strewn clear across the room, it seemed rooming with a girl didn't necessarily mean rooming with a neat-freak.
Dean fingered a lacy pink bra that definitely didn't belong to his brother and raised an eyebrow. "Things went that good, huh?"
"Nothing happened," Sam hissed, snatching the bra and tossing it across the room. "We both passed out around ten trying to finish all our supporting documentation. We're just lucky the school's in such a fix, or I don't think we'd be getting in as subs."
"I'll bet," Dean said, "So where is lover-girl, anyway?"
"Dean…" Sam gave him a long-suffering look, and Dean raised his hands in surrender. "She went for a jog. She said it helps her de-stress before a job."
"I'm surprised she didn't ask you to go with her."
"She did. I'm just, uh, not feeling it today," Sam said, sounding evasive.
"I can see why," Dean said, poking at a bunch of candy wrappers on the bureau. He snorted, "Dude, I know we're basically trying to rebuild the guy that used to be the Trickster, but if your plan was to use candy as bait, you kind of messed up."
"It was late and I needed a sugar fix," Sam defended. "Those Mini Egg things are like crack, I swear."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Next you'll be telling me you want to go shopping for some shoes."
"Dean, you watch Dr. Sexy."
"And you watch All My Children. For shame, Sammy."
"Hey, you know what? I've got work to get to," Sam grumbled. "Why don't you go be a bitch to Cas? He actually tolerates it."
"Can't. Guy's locked in the bathroom."
"Again?" Sam asked, worry replacing his annoyance. "Another nightmare?"
"I guess – maybe? I dunno, he's has been weird lately."
"Weirder than usual, you mean."
"Yeah – I think we're gonna have to talk to him about the not sleeping thing," Dean frowned. "He can't even get through an hour long cat-nap without waking up moaning and groaning." He shuddered. "I'd hate to see what his subconscious has been putting him through."
Sam shrugged. "If it's something serious, we could always look into finding a psychic who can help him through it. Maybe if we get a hold of this Balthazar guy we can convince him to put some mental blocks on Cas."
"I guess," Dean said, not liking the idea of someone dicking around in Cas's head, even if it was one of his brothers. Especially not if it was one of his brothers.
"But we could be getting ahead of ourselves," Sam suddenly said thoughtfully. "It might be something really normal."
"Like what?"
Sam focused an unimpressed look on him. "He's been a human for almost a month now, Dean. A human guy."
Dean stared.
Then blinked.
'Oh. Oh!'
"No way," he said immediately. "There's just no…I don't think Cas even knows how to…you know…"
"His body's human – and even when he was an angel, it had cravings – remember Famine?" Sam pointed out. "Obviously the stress caused by the change and all of his nightmares is beginning to go away, leaving room for…other things."
"I guess," Dean said vaguely. To be honest, he was a little surprised at the concept of Cas being, well, horny. It didn't jive with the image in his head of the emotionless warrior of Heaven he had come to know. He had never really considered Cas to be a sexual being, not after that disastrous brothel visit back in September. But suddenly, it looked like another trip might be in order.
For whatever reason, the idea didn't sit well with him.
Sam was frowning at him, and Dean realized he had missed something his brother had said. "What?"
"I said, 'this is a good thing'," Sam repeated. "Healthy even."
"What? Yeah, no, I know," Dean said defensively. "I just – it's weird, okay? It's like a Ken-doll suddenly coming to life."
"Very nice. I'll be sure to tell him you said that."
"It's not like he'd get it," Dean rolled his eyes.
His mind flashed back to the dream he had woken Cas from and realized suddenly that it had had nothing to do with nightmares. How could he have been so dense? He'd woken up from his share of racy dreams in the past – and if he had never had one before and been woken up by Sam or Cas? Yeah, he could see wanting to escape in order to get rid of the evidence.
An idea occurred to him.
"You know what this means, right?" Dean grinned. "You have to give him the speech."
"The speech?" Sam repeated. His eyes widened in realization, and he stood up abruptly, hands raised into the 'hands-off' position. "No. Hell, no. That is not happening."
"Hey, I already had to give it once, it's your turn," Dean retorted. "Be the responsible older brother."
"Jimmy was older than either of us and Cas remembers time before the Neanderthals," Sam protested. "And he's not my brother."
"He might as well be, for all he's done for us."
"Okay, yeah, point, but…but he's your angel!"
"He's not an angel and he – he is not my anything," Dean retorted, color flooding his cheeks. "You're the one with more tact, anyway."
"And Cas is one of the few people on this planet that don't care about tact," Sam countered. "I mean it, Dean, this one's on you."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Play you for it."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You'll play scissors, as usual, and I'll win. Now go deal with your horny ex-angel."
"Sam," Dean said warningly, raising his hands into the usual rock-paper-scissors position.
Sam sighed and held out his hands as well.
They counted out the strikes and then threw down, and Dean cursed.
"Seriously?" Sam smirked.
"I had a strategy," Dean protested as he stalked back out the door.
"Make sure you tell him about the importance of locking the door," Sam called after him.
(*)
'I've faced down a horde of zombies and a town full of the Croatoan virus. This should be easy,' Sam coached himself, swallowing back his nerves.
Of course, in all of those cases he had had a sawed off at the ready and wasn't wearing pantyhose and heels that he had spent a good part of the day before learning how to walk in. He'd lied to Sarah and told her that it was because he never needed to wear them while hunting, and after she had finished laughing at him, she had helped him out.
Still feeling ridiculous, he cleared his throat.
"Good morning everyone," he said in a voice he hoped was carrying to the back of the room and over the hubbub of thirty teenagers chatting with one another. He had to repeat himself several times at increasing volumes before the kids finally got the message, and then he offered a wan smile. "Thanks. Okay, so, I'm Miss McVie, and I'll be subbing for the next little while."
'And God, I hope it's no more than a day.'
Only ten out of the thirty kids in the class were actually listening to him, the others either plugged into their mp3 players or texting. If he were really a teacher he would have been annoyed at that, but as it was, he just wanted to get through the day with relative ease.
He turned to write his name on the board, the way he remembered several teachers in his high school do.
Having more or less witnessed Dean's exploits in the public school system, Sam knew to expect some trouble. The first rolled up ball of paper bouncing off the back of his head, he ignored, hoping that if they saw him not react to it, they would stop. If he remembered his psychology classes properly, teenagers just wanted to get a reaction.
That logic held for about ten minutes before the second paper bounce off his forehead while he was going over the attendance, and his mind flashed hopefully to the butterfly knife he had tucked into his skirt (and hadn't that been a joy sneaking past the school metal detectors?)
Instead of giving in to the impulse toward violence, he remained calm, catching the third paper projectile with a snapping motion in his hand. He stared out at the class, unblinking in what he hoped was his best impression of Castiel.
"Next person who throws something at me writes a thousand word essay summarizing Boston tax law," he said in a deadly serious voice, hauling out the first boring topic he could think of. "And it'll be handwritten."
That got a few groans, but another ten students suddenly sat up straighter.
Sam offered them a tight smile and went on, "So, according to the note Mrs. Ross left, you're supposed to use this period to review for the end of year exams. It also says if you don't want to do that, you should be working on the final drafts of your Fitzgerald essays. This is individual work, so the only time you should be talking is if you need to ask me a question."
An instruction which bit him in the ass about ten minutes later, when a line of students had formed up to his desk (he had had to sit down, because the heels were killing his feet), bombarding him with a barrage of one-on-one conversations ranging from avoiding comma splices to football players trying to flirt with him.
'Must find this Jason kid, and fast,' he thought as he grit his teeth through another teenaged boy's veiled attempt to look down his shirt.
By the time the bell rang to signify recess, Sam was more than pleased to get out of the classroom – although, in his haste he put his foot down wrong and he suddenly found himself on his ass on the floor while a bunch of kids laughed at him.
Two girls scrambled to help him up while every teenaged boy walking by tried to get a look under his skirt, and Sam thanked his lucky stars that Dean hadn't been around to see that particular move.
If Sam had ever entertained the notion of becoming a teacher back when he was worried law school might now pan out, he emphatically let go of it right then.
He wandered out into the hallway, more careful this time. He had volunteered for supervision duty, which probably meant he had to keep the kids from killing each other in the fifteen minutes of proscribed freedom they got before lunch, but really he was trying to find the vessel.
The hallways were completely packed with a sea of teens in their various social cliques, and Sam felt just as out of place in these hallways as he had in every single school Dad had enrolled him in growing up. He had always hated navigating through the community minefield of the corridors, preferring the library or study hall.
Dean had always mocked him for that, but then again, Dean had preferred the broom closets and the boiler rooms, so where did he get off judging?
It was as he was making yet another careful round of the hallway that he caught sight of his target.
Jason Williams was standing about thirty feet away, separated from Sam by a section of lockers and the kids that loitered around them. Sam knew it was him, because he had looked up the kid's social profile.
Jason's Facebook photos hadn't been very revealing, as he seemed to prefer posting amusing pictures and witty sayings rather than pictures of himself. Even his profile picture showed some shadowy photo, but eventually Sam had managed to find a clear enough shot.
Staring at the boy now, Sam was again struck by the similarities to Gabriel's old vessel.
The kid looked a little older than his eighteen years, the same height and build as the former vessel, similar hair and eye color. They even had the same impish twist to their mouths, which Sam thought was impressive, considering Gabriel had probably used the same vessel for thousands of years. Apparently, certain traits had remained within that bloodline.
Sam's attention to Jason was drawn when he noticed movement behind the boy. At first he tensed, thinking it might be someone going for Jason, but the solid wall of three strapping girls who probably played field hockey headed instead for the redheaded girl in glasses who had the locker across from Jason's. They assumed a familiar looking flanking position.
Even among the hubbub and separated by bodies, if Sam focussed he could hear snatches of conversation.
" – heard you had a Carrie moment at Gwen's party –"
" – just leave me alone –"
" – of all nights to wear a white shirt, huh – ?"
" – knock it off – !"
Sam frowned, already starting over there. If there was one thing thirty-five or so schools had instilled in him, it was a hatred of bullying.
Ostensibly, Jason was ignoring the commotion going on in back of him, reaching deep into his backpack for something. As Sam neared, he saw that it was a can of soda, which the kid considered, and then promptly began to shake up.
Businesslike expression on his face, Jason turned toward the three teens whose backs were still toward him and held the can of pop out at an angle, cracking open the lid at just the right angle that the fizzy drink came shooting out like a miniature geyser, dousing the three girls' hair and bookbags before they even realized what was happening.
Shrieks of anger and disgust emanated from the girls, who rounded on him. Sam was closer now, able to better hear what was being said, but there were still about half a dozen backpack wearing kids hemming him in, and his heels were making his progress slow.
"What the hell, Williams?!" the center girl snarled, glaring down at the emptying pop-can in his hands.
"Oh, how clumsy of me," Jason intoned, eyes wide with feigned innocence. The redheaded girl shot Jason a grateful look, and then disappeared. "I honestly had no idea that shaking up carbonated drinks would do that. Mea culpa."
"Don't be a smart ass!" the girl spat.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "Just like you wouldn't dream of bugging Danielle anymore about what was obviously just some bad luck."
"Why? You like her?" the girl's tone was mocking.
"You like not having photos of you giving Coach Thompson a lap dance hitting Facebook?" he replied easily, to which the girl's face turned a sick shade of pale. "Can you say, 'blackmail'?"
"Can you say 'slow, painful death'?" the girl growled, looking to her left and right for support from her friends, who seemed unsurprised by the information and were already looming over Jason. It said something that all three were taller than him.
Jason smirked. "'Slow, painful death'."
"I mean it, Williams, you upload any of that shit and I swear the mouse clicking will be the last sound you ever hear," the girl snarled.
Which was the exact moment where Sam finally made it to the little group. "What's going on here?"
Jason adopted a wide smile and a high, cheerful voice. "We were slacking off, Miss. And before that? We were smoking!"
Sam's lip twitched at that, and he eyed the trio. "I think you girls might want to go have a discussion with the vice principal about the school's anti-bullying policy."
He wasn't even sure this school had one, but he wanted them gone right now. If he wasn't on such a time limit, he'd hunt the three of them down and explain exactly what kind of crap could happen to people who bullied others in school. The memory of Dirk McGregor was still fresh in his mind.
"But Miss – !"
"Now," he ordered, infusing his tone with the same command Dad had always used on him.
The trio sent Jason a look that promised him hell the next time they saw him, and trounced off.
"You didn't have to do that," Jason said, his grin having faded and a sullen glare taking its place. "The situation was totally under control."
"Last time I checked, beating up girls isn't something you should be boasting about," Sam deadpanned. "Or blackmailing them."
"Are you kidding?" Jason said, eyes wide. "Those She-Hulks in hockey kilts could murder me! If I managed to stay conscious long enough to run away, I'd still leave this place as a legend."
Sam sighed. "Listen…you're Jason, right?"
"Last time I checked, though I've been considering changing my name to the Great Orgasmo," he waggled his eyebrows.
'And that's the dick we've been looking for,' Sam thought with an inner groan.
"Jason, I think you and I need to have a chat about proper ways of dealing with aggression," Sam told him firmly.
"Hey, they got their just desserts, why do I get to be punished for it?" Jason demanded.
"You're not being punished, I just need to talk to –"
The bell rang, cutting Sam off, and Jason perked up.
"Listen, it's been lovely, teach, but if I miss any more math, Mr. Grey is going to flunk me and then my mother's gonna make me join the army," he said, backing away. He mimed two pistols with his fingers. "Catch you later, okay? And then we can continue this little…thing."
In an instant, hundreds of student hurrying to their next classes separated them.
"Damn it," Sam growled under his breath.
"Well, that went well," an amused voice said, and Sam turned around to see Sarah standing behind him, coffee cup in hand. It smelled really good, and Sam was tempted to grab a sip from it before he remembered that that was a couple thing to do, and they weren't a couple. "So, how's your day been?"
Sam scowled.
"The man who invented high heels – and it was a man, because no woman would ever be self-loathing enough to come up with them – should be dragged through a desert of cacti and then shot – not killed, just wounded, and be forced to crawl after someone holding a glass of water just out of reach," he informed her.
Sarah stared at him. "Wow. That good, huh?"
"I forgot how much I hated high school," Sam sighed. "The learning part was okay, but all the rest…just sucked."
"Tell me about it – I spent four years with people calling me Sara Lee. It was tough."
Sam frowned. "Why's that so bad?"
"Because I was about twenty pounds overweight," she answered. "They used to joke that you could shut me up by stuffing cakes in my mouth. Which happened on occasion."
"I stand corrected – that sucks."
"Oh, not always," Sarah smiled. "They were usually pretty good cakes."
They exchanged a warm look, and then Sam cleared his throat. "Well, you look great today – I mean, you always look – I mean –"
"I know what you mean," Sarah laughed, and Sam felt suitably mortified. He was grateful when she changed the subject, nodding in the direction Jason was wandering away in. "What was that all about?"
"I forgot how much teenagers don't trust teachers," Sam said ruefully. "Which is funny, because after dealing with D – Erica growing up, you'd think I'd expect it."
"It's really not that hard, you just have to find some common ground," Sarah told him cheerily. "For example, I know that Jason is a huge fan of Kung Fu movies and graphic novels. He hates Chinese food, doesn't really have many friends here because nobody 'gets him', he accidentally set the science lab on fire last week because he was 'bored' and is only sticking in school so that he can get a diploma so he can get a job to help support his step-mother and half-sister."
Sam stared. "You got all of that in one morning?"
"We bonded over art," Sarah said. "He's a very talented comic artist."
"No way he told you all of that."
"Well, not all of it," Sarah admitted. "I spoke to his guidance councillor before class started, and she told me the stuff about his family."
This time Sam laughed. "Sneaky. Did you happen to find out where his next class is?"
"You know, I actually did," Sarah said, mock thoughtful.
Sam grinned, glad that they might finally be able to make some headway. Glancing up to see if Jason was still in the hallway, he saw something that made his blood run cold instead.
Jason was still there, but he wasn't alone. He was talking to a tall blond woman wearing a pantsuit. She could have been a teacher, or maybe an administrator, but the stiff way she held herself, almost like she was not used to her body, suggested she was neither. Sam recognized the posture from having watched Castiel for two years.
She said something to the boy, gesturing somewhere unseen, and Jason's face fell. He nodded quickly, and the woman gestured again. As she moved, the lights in the hallway flickered and in the brief moment where things became too bright, Sam saw the huge shadowy wings splayed out against the lockers.
A second later, they were gone.
"No way our luck can be that bad," Sam murmured, even as the woman motioned for Jason to follow her. As they turned the corner, he saw the telling gleam of silver that his imagination suggested was an angel blade. 'Apparently, it can.'
"Go get the car," Sam ordered Sarah, already walking quickly after Jason and the angel. "And the hex bags."
"Jane –?"
"Just do it!" Sam ordered, and took off at a run and hoping he wasn't seconds away from tripping over his heels again.
(*)
"I do not understand. Sam said that I could remove this," Cas complained, gesturing at the much abused sling.
"And I'm saying, tough it out for another few hours," Dean replied. "I have a plan."
"Fewer words are more ominous."
Dean snorted. "Look at you, workin' the sarcasm. Makes a guy proud. Next we'll have to work on your cursing, because seriously? I haven't forgotten the 'assbutt' thing."
Dean and Cas were wandering down the sidewalk of the suburban neighborhood where Jason Williams lived with his family. They had spent the morning scoping out the diner where his mother worked from the coffee-shop across the street, and when she had left, Dean decided to head her off near her own house.
"What is the point of speaking to this woman?" Cas asked yet again. "She is not part of Gabriel's line. She has nothing to do with this endeavor."
"She's the kid's mother for all intents and purposes, I'd say that means she's got something to do with it," Dean retorted. "We're going to try to convince her son to take Gabriel's grace into him and effectively erase the guy out of existence."
"He will not be erased –"
"I know that, and you know that, but that's how she's gonna see it if we go with the truth," Dean explained. "I need to get a read on her before I can decide what we're going to tell her. And him, provided Sam ever makes contact with the kid."
"Sam has not yet contacted you?"
"No."
"And what of Sarah?" Cas asked, and then frowned. "I still question the wisdom in allowing her to take part in this job when she is not even an active hunter."
"Take a look in the mirror, buddy, you're not at full capacity right now either," Dean said lightly, automatically defending Sam even when he didn't completely support him. "Besides, she's one of the few people who doesn't want us dead right now."
"Possibly because you have not been honest with your identities."
"Hey, that's Sam's job, not ours."
"You keep saying that, however I do not understand the logic," Cas admitted.
Dean rolled his eyes, glancing toward the house where the Williams family lived. At some point, Mrs. Williams was going to arrive, and that's when he and Cas would make their move.
"A few years ago, Sam and Sarah had a thing."
"An object?"
"No, a…they had a one-night stand," Dean amended, and when Cas continued to look blank, "Sex."
"Ah."
"Yeah. So they have history together. And it must have left some kind of lasting impression, because Sam still likes her. There's still a connection there, I guess."
"And because they have a history it is his responsibility to inform of the truth concerning your transformation," Cas intoned slowly, like he was trying to understand.
"Yeah," Dean said.
Cas made a face. "I believe this will be yet another human custom that I fail to see the point of."
"Yeah, well, we do weird things," Dean said airily, his brother's words from earlier that morning suddenly coming back to him.
He studied the ex-angel's still confused face, and after another cursory glance at the Williams house and still not seeing their mark, decided now was as good a time as any to bite the bullet.
"So…Cas," Dean began, and then winced, because that sounded completely lame.
His friend raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"
His eyes were doing that scrutinizing gaze thing, and Dean had to look away because it reminded him too much of what he had been thinking about in the shower that morning. Mental territory he did not want to retrace.
"Uh, so, this morning," Dean went on, "you were kind of…agitated. Sounded like you were having one hell of a dream."
"It is nothing," Cas said tonelessly. "I allowed myself to fall asleep when I should not have. I apologize if I was curt with you."
"What? Hey, no, that's not –" Dean cursed inwardly, because this was going about as awkwardly as he had thought it would. He sighed with resignation. 'Oh, hell, might as well get right down to it.' "It's just, that didn't look like your usual nightmare thrashing."
Cas stiffened. "I do not wish to talk about this."
"Yeah, well, neither do I, but seeing as Sam's a wuss and I doubt Gabriel was the kind of older brother to explain this to you, I guess you're stuck with me."
"I am not an infant, Dean," Cas said coolly. "I understand the physiological implications of what my vessel's…what my brain is communicating to me."
"Yeah, not talking about your upstairs brain right now, unfortunately," Dean said through gritted teeth, and then took another breath to calm himself down. "Okay, this isn't working out like…let's try another angle." He forcibly held Cas's gaze. "First of all, you have to get over this 'not-sleeping' thing. You're a human now, which means you've got to deal with human needs. As shitty as nightmares are, sleep is one of those needs. So give up that battle, dude, because it's one you're not going to win."
Cas looked mutinous, but didn't say anything, so Dean took it as a sign that he should continue.
"On that note, there are loads of other ways to cope with your subconscious beating you around, and it looks like, er, you sort of found one of them," Dean blathered, trying not to pay too much attention to his own words.
"I do not understand what you're referring to," Cas said, evasive.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Morning wood ain't something to be afraid of, Cas. In fact, you should be afraid if nothing were happening down there."
He gestured vaguely in the direction of Cas's crotch; by now both they were both red in the face.
"Dean, I do not wish to –"
"Just shut up and let me finish so that we can never have this conversation again, okay?" Dean ground out. "You've been dealing with this alone, right?"
"Of course," Cas said stiffly. "Having anyone else around would be distracting."
"'Distracting'?" Dean repeated, momentarily puzzled. And then, knowing he was going to regret it, he asked, "What exactly are you doing?"
"I simply sit quietly until it goes away," Cas said, perplexed.
"You –? Sweet mother of – ! Are you kidding me?" Dean gaped. "That's not what you're supposed to do!"
"I understand that it is common for human males to use manual stimulation to eradicate an unwanted erection, but the idea is distasteful to me," Cas said primly. "Like all biological responses, this one only requires patience and strength of will to deal with, although I thank you for your concern."
"Dude, no! Your subconscious wants to get laid, not to engage in a full-on Ghandi in our bathroom every morning," Dean groaned, scrubbing his hand down his face. "Those dreams of yours? They're telling you exactly what your body wants right now."
"No they are not!" Cas said, sounding panicked for some reason. Once again he refused to look at Dean, which was getting annoying.
"There's nothing wrong with dreams and fantasies," Dean assured him. "Hell, I've got some awesome ones involving Carmen Electra, Denise Richards and a cherry pie – but that's all they are, man. Fantasies. They don't mean anything."
"Dean –"
"It's all your imagination trying to give you a happy," Dean said, clapping Cas on his right shoulder. "You don't have to worry about that, because they never happen in real life. Okay?"
"I…yes," Cas said, looking down at his feet. Dean could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment cross his friend's face. For a moment, he debated with giving in to his curiosity and asking what he had dreamed, but he stopped himself. There was an unwritten rule about asking another guy what he liked to fantasize about to take the edge off; unless Cas volunteered, Dean didn't want to know.
Even then, he didn't want to know.
He coughed. "So, we good?"
"Yes, I believe so," Cas said, carefully.
"Awesome. Let's go to work then, she just walked around the corner," Dean said, grabbing on to Cas's good arm and hauling him forward. "Act natural."
"H-how does one act 'natural'?" Cas asked, sounding a little breathless as Dean pulled him farther in the direction of Mrs. Williams.
"Ugh, never mind," Dean said, pasting a false smile on his face as they walked, all the while trying to ignore the fact that he was once again close enough to smell Cas's unique scent. "Just keep acting like we're married."
"I –"
"In about six seconds we'll be within stepping distance from her, and I'm gonna pretend to faint," Dean said out of the corner of his mouth. "If she asks what happened, just say I have low blood sugar, okay?"
"What - ?" Cas began, but cut off as Dean suddenly crumpled forward.
As he hit the sidewalk painfully, he thought, 'Damn it, he could have at least tried to catch.'
"Dean!" Cas exclaimed, and Dean mentally rolled his eyes, glad that at least Sarah wasn't around and hoping the woman had heard 'Jean'.
"Oh my gosh, is she alright?" he heard her exclaim, and squinting out from beneath his lids he saw Mrs. Williams run forward.
"Low…blood sugar," Cas explained, sounding confused enough that Dean cracked an eye open to glare at him.
'Real convincing,' he thought sarcastically, and rather than let Cas take point on this one, he let out a moan. "What happened?"
"Hey, are you okay?" Mrs. Williams asked. "You fainted – do you need me to call an ambulance?"
"No," Dean moaned, "just need somewhere to sit down. Maybe something to drink."
"Oh – of course! Come with me," the woman said, motioning for them to follow her. When Cas tried to help move him, Mrs. Williams stopped him. "Oh, no, let me – I wouldn't want to jostle your arm."
'That was easy,' Dean thought as he pretended to allow her to help him into her home. 'Good thing I'm not someone coming after her with bad intent…'
The Williams house was small and quaint, but with the second-hand quality that suggested they weren't well-off people. Dean recognized the atmosphere from the one that he had grown up in, although the home was considerably cleaner than the motels his family had shacked up in.
"I'm Donna, by the way," the woman said as she motioned for Dean to take a seat on a small couch.
"Jean," he replied, sticking with what she might have heard, "And this is Cas."
"I am her husband," Cas added helpfully, and Dean held back a curse, because of course the angel would choose now to be forthcoming with a cover story.
"We just moved in down the street and took a walk," Dean went on, forcing his voice to remain muddled. He tried to joke. "Well, he took a walk. I took a fall."
"If it helps, welcome to the neighborhood," Donna said, moving around the kitchen in a hurry. "Any preferences? We've got OJ, Apple or…or soda? There's actually tons of sugary drinks here, my son's got a major sweet-tooth."
'I'd kill for a beer,' Dean wanted to say, but instead murmured, "OJ sounds good."
Within seconds, Donna had pressed two glasses forward, one for Dean and one for Cas.
"Are these your kids?" Dean asked as he took a sip of the citrus drink, gesturing to the photographs on a nearby table. They showed a small brown haired girl resembling Donna and a teenager that was the spitting image of Gabriel's old vessel.
"Yeah," Donna said, smiling fondly. "I love that photo. It's the first one we took together after…well, after their father died." Her expression sobered. "Jason took it really hard. I mean, he'd already lost his mom when he was seven, and then losing his dad…"
"So, you're his step-mom?"
"Legally," Donna said. "But I practically raised him after I married his dad. Richard worked a lot, was never really home. I think Jason resented it, because he was acting out in school for a while. Things got horrible after his dad died, and he actually ran away for a few weeks this year."
"But things got better?" Dean prompted.
"Yeah, almost overnight," Donna admitted. "It was this past April. He just…completely stepped up the plate. The phone calls from school stopped, he started filling out job applications, he started really spending time with his sister again..." She gave a shuddering sigh. "I think he must have had some kind of scare. I have no idea what it was, and I'm glad nothing horrible happened to him – but I am so grateful." She swallowed, a fierce look in her eyes. "My boy's meant for greater things."
"Sounds like it," Dean agreed tightly.
"Oh, listen to me," Donna shook her head and rubbed her hands nervously. "You're having a medical emergency, and I'm rambling."
"No, I feel a lot better," Dean assured her. "Like I said. Low blood-sugar. It's a curse."
"Still, I shouldn't have gotten so personal…"
"Family's important," Dean told her seriously.
They chatted for a while longer, before Donna said she had some errands to run before picking up her daughter.
"Don't be a stranger," she told Dean and Cas as she walked them to the door. "Say 'hi' next time you're in this part of the neighborhood."
"We will," Dean assured her, and then led Cas away by the hand.
As soon as they rounded the corner, he let go of the ex-angel and put a socially acceptable distance between them.
"I still think that was a waste of our time," Cas remarked.
"I don't," Dean replied, frowning pensively.
"We did not learn anything we did not already know, besides the fact that this woman and the vessel are not blood related," Cas pointed out.
Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Clearly you need to work on your listening skills, dude."
"Why?"
"She said this Jason kid started turning his life around in April, right?"
"Yes?"
"So what happened in April?"
"I have no idea," Cas answered. "Your arbitrary human divisions of time meant nothing to me until a few weeks ago."
"'Scuse me for being the lowly earthling, Spock," Dean rolled his eyes.
"I do not understand that reference."
Dean sighed. He was going to have to set Cas up with a Netflix account or something.
"Coincidentally – and I'm saying that with irony, because I don't actually believe in coincidences –" Dean said, " – that's around the same time Gabe grew a pair and stood up to big brother."
Cas was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "You are right. Given the circumstances, coincidence is highly unlikely. You believe there is a link?"
"Knowing Gabriel? I'd say 'yeah'," Dean said grimly.
(*)
The corridors were emptying quickly.
'This is ridiculous,' Sam thought to himself as he hurried onward, his progress slowed by the unfamiliar shoes. As he saw Jason and the mysterious angel move around yet another corner, he made an executive decision to ditch the heels and go barefoot. His cover didn't matter anymore now that the forces of Heaven were involved.
They hadn't counted on any angels showing up so quickly, and there was no time to figure out if said angel was on their side or to come up with a plan in case it wasn't. Still, Sam's mind raced to figure out some way to get Jason and himself out of this alive. All he really had to rely on right now was the element of surprise the Enochian sigils on his ribs provided and the assurances of a pagan god that her transformation magic would hide him.
'Hell of a way to test it out,' he thought as he rounded the corner and found a windowed classroom door close. Fear that he was going to be too late crept up on him, and he practically skidded down the waxed floor in his haste to get there. At the same time, he brought is knife out and sliced into the palm of his hand.
Honestly, he had no idea how he still had any blood left in his veins with the amount he had been losing lately. He drew a rough sigil into his palm, wincing at the idea that this might be in vain. It had worked the night he and Dean had encountered Raphael, and he could only hope it would again.
Through the door, he could hear a muffled, "Hey, I thought you said we were going to see Principal Steward?"
Looking through the classroom door window, he saw that the woman was already reaching out with the customary two-fingered angel salute. She was too far away for the banishing to work.
'Element of surprise it is,' he decided and threw himself at the door, causing it to fly open and bang against the wall. It had the desired effect of drawing the attention of both the angel and the boy.
"Jason, get away from her," he ordered, striding forward.
"What –?" the kid began, but his eyes widened in surprise. The angel was letting her sword slip farther down in her grasp. Sam's suspicion about the glinting metal object had been correct.
"You are interfering," the angel said, making an opening motion with her hand. It sent Sam flying into the nearby chalkboard, pinning him there. She cocked her head to one side, a perversion of the gesture Castiel often used, and then frowned. "And you are invisible. Yet not." She stepped forward, Jason momentarily forgotten. "Something shields you."
Sam gritted his teeth as she got closer, peering at him like she was trying to see into his soul. Maybe she was. She had long since come into his range, if only he could press his palm against the wall he could be able to send her packing. He knew the sigils on his ribs were good, but eventually she was going to clue into them soon – maybe even etch them out one by one.
"Tell me why a lowly human would need such protection, and I will allow you to walk away," she said.
'Unlikely,' he thought, but said, "And the boy?"
"No," she replied. "He will be dealt with, not that it is your concern."
"No deal," Sam bit out. She gazed at him for a second, and then her eyes fell down to his palm. He felt the blood dripping from his fingers to the floor. She reached out, cold hands grasping him by the wrist so hard that he felt the bones grind together.
He groaned out in pain as she considered the bleeding gash, before passing a finger over it. Instantly, the skin and tissue healed itself, although she left his wrist untended. She smiled unpleasantly at him.
"Your little banishing spell won't work now, girl," she said quietly, looking Sam deeply in the eye. "I will give you one last chance to explain who you are and what you are doing here before I find out myself. It will be…unpleasant."
But she was already reaching for Sam's forehead, like she was going to suck the thoughts out of his brain. He tried to jerk back, but her power immobilized him –
The lights began to flicker and there was the sputter of electricity. The angel looked up in shock, staring around.
"What? No –!"
There was a brilliant explosion of light that Sam had to shut his eyes against, and then the angel's hold was broken. He fell to the floor, jarring his now swelling wrist, and looked around to find that the angel was gone.
The reason for that was several yards away, kneeling on the linoleum, hands bloody.
Jason was staring down at the roughly drawn angel banishing sigil in front of him; a discarded, bloody pocket-knife lay beside it.
"Holy shit," the kid whispered, eyes wide with an expression that Sam had seen once before on a mortal Anna when she had done much the same thing. "Holy shit, that should never have worked." His head shot up and he pinned Sam with a terrified stare. "What the hell is going on?!"
It was exactly what Sam wanted to know, because he had not expected this.
There was no time to dwell on it, though; the banishing was only a temporary solution.
Sam staggered to his feet, focussing all of his attention on the terrified teenager before him. "Come on, Jason, we need to get out of here. She'll be back."
Jason was on his feet in an instant, looking around for an escape. "No way, lady – I'm not going anywhere with you. You're not even a teacher, are you?"
"No, I'm not," Sam told him, deciding to stick with honesty. After what Jason had just seen, he would probably appreciate it more. "What I am is someone who wants to help." He nodded at Jason's hands. "First of all, bandaging you up before you bleed to death. After that we can talk more."
Jason shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I go anywhere with you, my family never sees me again."
"You stay here, your family never sees you again," Sam told him plainly. "With me you stand a chance." At Jason's distrustful look, he sighed, "Look, I'd like this to be your choice, but we need to get out of here before anyone notices what's happened. If that means I've got to knock you out, I'll do it. Broken wrist or not."
"I could take you," Jason said, uncertainly.
"You can try," Sam told him.
There was another long moment of staring, and then Jason swallowed and nodded.
"Come on," Sam said. "I've got a car waiting in the lot."
(*)
The abandoned warehouse on the industrial side of town was dark and hostile looking, but Dean had squatted in worse.
As soon as Sam had called to say that he and Sarah had found Jason – found and abducted, technically – Dean had made the executive decision not to bring him back to the inn where they were staying. With an angel on the kid's ass, anywhere with people was probably a bad idea.
He had seen a few likely looking places on their drive into town, and so when the call came in, he told Sam to drive them to a warehouse just off the highway. Then he and Cas grabbed a cab and met them there.
Gabriel's vessel was a kid that looked eerily like him, so much so that Dean would have been tempted to clock the guy one if he hadn't looked so completely freaked out. He was pale and silent when Sam gave the hasty introductions, a defiant expression on his face. While Sam hurriedly explained what had happened at the school, Sarah worked on his injured wrist, setting up a temporary brace.
'Good thing she knows some first-aid, 'cause we don't have time for a hospital right now,' Dean thought. 'This hasn't been a good month for injuries.'
The kid's hands, now swathed in bandages from the Charger's First-Aid kit, were shaking when Sam got to the part about how he inexplicably banished the angel. Taking pity on him, Dean reached into his jacket for his flask of Hunter's Helper, which the kid accepted gratefully.
"So how did you know to use the sigil?" Dean asked.
"Because the guy told me to," Jason replied after taking a sip from the flask, grimacing, and handing it back.
"Who told you?" Dean asked, shooting Sam and Cas a meaningful look.
"I don't know, just this…this guy," Jason said with a shrug, picking at the bandages on his palms. "It was a month or so ago, and I was…I was at the park on Juniper Street, sleeping off…" He looked at them warily for a second. "You guys really aren't teachers, right?"
"No," Dean assured him.
"Right, well, I was coming down from this seriously bad trip," Jason went on, shaking his head. "I figured I needed to sober up before heading home. My mom…" He trailed off, gave another shrug and refused to meet their gazes. "Anyway. I drifted off or something, because I was suddenly waking up and there was this guy next to me on the bench. Just sitting there, watching me and suckin' on a lollipop. It was fucking creepy, is what it was."
"Be glad that's all he did to you," Dean thought he heard Sam say, too low for the kid to hear. Sarah shot him a curious look, but didn't make any attempt to interrupt the story.
"So, I freak out, I'm trying to get up and get away as fast as possible, but he just looks at me and…I can't move."
"He paralyzed you?" Sam asked.
Jason made a face, and then said, "No, it was like…his eyes, man, they were fucking intense. I just…felt like I didn't want to move, like he knew everything about me and if I moved, he was gonna see more." He shuddered. "It was messed up."
"The sigil?" Dean prompted.
"Yeah, yeah…right," Jason looked for the flask hopefully, and Dean was tempted to give him another hit but thought better of it; getting the kid shit-faced while they were dealing with an angel problem wasn't a good idea. He shook his head and put away the flask. "So, he reaches over – and is totally in my personal space like you wouldn't believe – and smacks me in the head, and suddenly I'm completely sober. It's like…I wasn't even craving anything anymore. I was just…completely fine. And then he starts talking – and the stuff he says…"
The kid's eyes were suddenly bright, and his jaw was set in a way that Dean recognized as trying to hold himself together.
"What did he say?" Sam said gently, in the caring, sympathetic voice that people were just helpless against.
Jason cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, before replying, "He said…he said my dad hadn't left me because he wanted to, and it was more than he could say about some fathers. He told me trying to deal with it the way I was doing only worked so long. That I needed to get my ass in gear, or one day some flannel wearing douchebags were going call me on my shit and I wasn't going to like it."
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Then he said he was about to do something really stupid to make up for some things he'd done, and then he leaned over, and handed me this piece of paper…it had that symbol on it," Jason went on. "He said I needed to memorize it, because one day someone might come for me and I'd need to know. Just in case." He frowned. "He said he wanted to have all of his bases covered."
There was quiet as everyone processed this.
"Well, congratulations, little man, you've been slapped by an angel," Dean finally said, his tone wry.
"What?" Jason asked, eyes round.
"The guy on that bench with you was the archangel Gabriel," Sam explained. "And the woman who came after you today was an agent of Raphael, another archangel."
Jason stared, and then started to get up. "Yeah…okay, where's the exit? No offense, but I'm gonna back away, slowly…"
"Kid, I wish we were crazy. It'd actually make more sense than some of the things we've seen," Dean said quietly. "But it's the truth. You saw what that sigil did, so you know we're on the level."
"No, I don't," the kid said frantically. "For all I know, that chick was S.H.I.E.L.D and you guys are HYDRA, and you're trying to mess me up."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You would be a Marvel-fan."
Jason's expression turned dark. "Got a problem with that, grandma?"
"One word, chump – Batman."
"Hey!" Sam interjected, frowning at both of them. "Can we focus?"
"Heaven is in disarray," Cas spoke up, looking directly at Jason. "The one in charge right now is Raphael, who wishes nothing more than to put an end to everything. There's no one powerful enough to stand up to him that we can turn to. Except Gabriel."
"That's great," Jason ground out. "So why don't you go find him and leave me alone?"
"Even if we did, the forces of Heaven would not," Cas replied quietly. "I would imagine that right now, one of their prime directives is to find and destroy you."
Jason took in the serious faces trained on him, and shook his head, laughing nervously. "Okay, say for a second I pretend you're telling me the truth – why the hell would angels be after me?"
"Because you are the vessel of Gabriel," Cas answered firmly. "Raphael seeks to ensure that he never returns to Heaven by destroying his vessel: you."
"Vessel?" the kid repeated. "The hell is that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Sam said. "Your body's basically a container. It has the strength to hold an angel – archangel, technically."
"Sure…" Jason said, raising an eyebrow. "Because that makes total sense. So tell me this – if I'm a vessel, who was this Gabriel guy wearing when he showed up in the park?"
"A distant ancestor of yours," Cas explained. "Likely one born in Judea over two thousand years ago."
"So why can't he keep that one?"
"Because he was killed and his body discarded," Cas told him. "You are the last vessel of the angel Gabriel on this planet. As you can imagine, that makes you rather important."
"Yeah, but if he's dead – ?"
"A friend of ours has begun collecting shards of his grace to bring him back," Sam explained. "It's dangerous to collect the grace without anywhere to store it. Which is where you would come in, if you agreed."
There was another lingering silence as the kid processes what they were asking him.
"No," Jason said, shaking his head. "No freaking way. I'm not – I'm not going to become a – an incubator for an angel! That's so many degrees of wrong!"
"You have little choice," Cas replied firmly. "The angels will keep coming after you no matter what. And if you think they will stop at infringing on your life, think of the lives of your loved ones. Angels are strategic. They will go after your weakness."
"What are you, some kind of angel expert?" the kid demanded, sulkily.
"You could say that," Cas allowed.
"Look, kid, believe it or not, we know what you're going through," Dean said helpfully. "S – see, Jane and me? Exact same boat. Destiny decided we were supposed to be angel condoms. Only, in our case? The game plan was to destroy the world."
"The guy who you'd be carrying around?" Sam added, "He's the only archangel we've ever met that actually wants to keep this planet spinning."
"Well, the only one whose grace is still accessible," Dean pointed out. He eyed Cas. "Dude, if you were still all full of grace…"
"I am aware," Cas replied shortly, in a tone that was fast becoming the Castiel equivalent of Sam's bitchface. Dean wasn't sure whether he should resent it or not, considering it finally meant that Cas was displaying emotion.
Jason turned his gaze on Cas, tense. "You? You were an archangel?"
"For little more than an hour," Cas granted. "It was necessary to give up that power at the time."
"Why?" Jason demanded. "Why couldn't you have kept it? Then you wouldn't have to be here telling me I've got to give up…everything."
"I did it to save my family," Cas said. "Surely you can understand that?"
Both Dean and Sam sent Cas surprised yet pleased looks. Dean had known the angel considered them his friends, but anything more than that? It was oddly heartwarming, in a Family-Channel-Special sort of way.
The moment was broken by the sudden, faint chime emanating from Jason's pocket. The kid took it out and flipped it open, staring at the screen uncomprehendingly. "It's my mom. She says she heard about me leaving school. I need to go home right now."
"Yeah, well, sorry kiddo, but that's not happening any time soon," Dean told him. "Not until we've got a better game plan – what?"
Jason was staring up at them, his face drawn and an odd, guarded look on his features. "My mom doesn't text." He held up the phone, showing the message. "And if she does…it's usually really long sentences. Like, she spends forever on them."
The text on screen was full of misspelled words and abbreviations, looking rather like how Cas's texts to Dean and Sam looked.
"We're too late, then," Cas said, sparing the briefest of glances to the message. "I told you that once they realized you've been hidden, the angels would go for your weakness." He drew his mouth into a thin line. "They have made their move, against your family."
"What?!" Jason demanded, jumping up again. "Then we have to go –"
"Sit down," Dean said, roughly pushing the kid back into his seat. "Going for them now would be suicide."
"Fine," Jason glowered. "Then give me that grace stuff. Angel me up."
"It is not that easy," Cas told him. "Even if Kali arrived here this instant, the shards of Gabriel's grace that she has are too little to make much of a change. If you were to take it in to yourself now, you would still be no match for those who hunt you."
"They'd probably kill you and then scatter the grace again," Sam pointed out.
"I don't care! That's my mom we're talking about!" Jason snapped. "And probably my sister too! You can't expect me to just sit here while they're being held by the people who want to kill me. Who says they won't just kill them to make a point? It's the number one plot point of every comic book out there."
"This ain't a comic book, kid," Dean retorted. "We've got to have a plan before we can just waltz in."
He didn't need Sam's expression to understand the irony of those words coming from his mouth.
"We should not be dancing anywhere," Cas said, frowning. "The most prudent course of action would be to take the boy and flee."
"Hey! Watch who you're calling 'boy'! I'm eighteen!" Jason snapped, and Dean rolled his eyes. Damn, but teenage guys were predictable. "And are you deaf? I'm not going anywhere without my mom and my sister."
"You'd be putting them in danger," Sam told him gently. "The angels will keep looking for you, and they'll go through them. Trust us on this one."
"Raphael's forces will not rest until you are dead," Castiel confirmed.
"Not…not necessarily."
Everyone looked over at Sarah, who was frowning and staring into the middle distance. Dean had almost forgotten that she was there, given her silence, but judging from the set of her jaw and wrinkle in her brow, she had been doing more than just sitting there and listening.
"Care to share with the class?" Dean inquired, mock-politely.
"Okay, so those slivers of grace aren't enough to make him as strong as Gabriel, right?" Sarah asked, earning a hesitant nod from Cas. "But maybe we can use them some other way?"
(*)
Sam shifted uncomfortably, willing the pain meds he had swallowed to take away some more of the sting in his wrist. His discomfort was not aided by the fact that he and Dean were currently crouching within a crawl space in the warehouse, surrounded by hex bags and protective sigils to keep their presence a secret.
Across the warehouse floor, Cas was similarly hidden, although his placement was temporary – something Dean had bitched about but eventually given in once Sam and Cas talked him around.
In the middle of the open-space, Sarah stood with a nervous but determined looking Jason.
"Ready when you are," she told him, her voice echoing with the building's acoustics; Sam could hear the encouragement and assurance in her tone. This was the part he hadn't liked. Sarah had no business confronting the angels, but they needed someone nonthreatening and not magically protected to back the kid up and help get his family to safety.
If that part of the plan worked, anyhow.
From the crawlspace, Sam saw Jason nod jerkily and look to his cellphone. There was the silent clicking sound of him texting, probably sending some generic message about hanging out with a friend. There was a chime, likely him being asked his location, which he gave.
He hadn't even put his phone down when the air rippled with the sound of feathers and the angel from that morning stood there.
"Hello, Jason," the woman said, her voice just as high and cold as before. There was a pause, and she looked at Sarah. "You are not the woman I saw before. The shielded one. Where is she?"
"Around," Sarah said stiffly, and Sam was proud at how her voice didn't even shake. Experience had taught the Winchesters that lying to angels wasn't a good idea, although lying with the truth still tended to work.
"This is not your business," the angel said quietly. "It would be wise if you left."
"Where's my mom?" Jason demanded, breathless. He actually did sound nervous, but resolute. "And my sister."
"They are unharmed."
"I want to see them."
There was a snapping noise, and the fluttering of wings. Sam chanced a glance outside of his hiding spot and saw two angels in male vessels flanking the female one, each with a captive in hand: a woman and girl about seven years old. Apparently the blond angel wanted this situation to be finished quickly, because she had given in without comment.
When his family caught sight of Jason, they both cried out his name and tried to get away from the angels, but their captors held them fast.
"Let them go!" Jason ordered. "They've got nothing to do with this."
The female angel cocked her head to one side.
"Jason? What's going on?" his mother whispered, panicked, while the sister cried silently.
"Mom, Jenna – everything's gonna be okay," Jason promised, his voice breaking.
"As you can see, your family is unharmed," the angel said. "Cooperate, and they will remain so. Heaven is not unjust in these matters."
"Just…let them leave and I'll do what you want," Jason begged. "They shouldn't…don't make them watch this."
The angel considered this again, and then nodded. She looked at Sarah. "Take them from this place. And don't return, or we will not be so lenient next time."
Sarah made a noise of affirmation.
The angels allowed the woman and the girl to go; the latter ran across the floor to grasp onto Jason, who hugged them briefly before practically pushing them toward Sarah. He murmured encouragements and promises to them, and soon Sarah was leading them out of the building, somehow managing to keep a hold of the Jason's step-mother, who continued to strain towards him.
'She's stronger than when we first met,' Sam thought idly, impressed, before his thoughts jerked back to the current situation.
"Now you will come with us," the angel said, already reaching for Jason.
The kid took an automatic step back just as another voice rang out. "Not so fast."
From out of the shadows where he had been hiding, obscured by hexbags, Castiel appeared. In a fluent movement, he tossed something across the space and flame erupted, creating a circle of Holy Fire around the space where the three angels stood.
Taking that as their cue, Sam and Dean crept out of their spot as well, remaining at the ready the minute Castiel gave the signal.
The female angel made an angry noise, and then hissed, "Castiel."
"Suriel," Castiel said calmly.
"You have fallen far, brother," she sneered. "I don't feel even the lingering echo of your grace any longer."
"There is none to sense," Castiel replied curtly, "although you are welcome to try."
"Why would I waste the energy?" Suriel demanded. She frowned at him. "I cannot sense this form any longer either. You are shielded." Her eyes narrowed. "Is that what your friends are?" She smiled a cruel smile. "Are you all fallen angels? Traitors who have managed to find protection? It is a vain hope, brother. You know how Raphael feels about the fallen ones."
"I would imagine it is the same way he feels about every being with the misfortune of not being created an angel," Castiel answered honestly. "And this is the one you choose to serve? Have you completely forgotten our Father's love of humanity?"
"Father is no longer here," Suriel replied. "His inactivity during the Apocalypse is a testament to that." She folded her arms, a remarkably human gesture. "Not that you have any right to call him your Father any longer. You have taken the grace he granted you and squandered it."
"We are not here to talk about my grace, sister," Castiel reminded her. "Your interest in Gabriel's final vessel suggests you are looking for his."
"As if you are not seeking the same," Suriel bristled.
"If the grace is what Raphael wants, then I propose a trade," Castiel said gravely. "We will give you the shards that we have. In return, you will leave this vessel and his family alone. The boy has no interest in hosting Gabriel."
"Hollow words, brother, you do not have any of Gabriel's grace here," Suriel pointed out.
"No, not here," Castiel allowed. "It would be foolish to…bring all our cards to the table, I believe is the saying?"
"Even if you had it here, it would make no difference," Suriel replied. "My orders are to procure the vessel as well."
Sam frowned at that, because the way she said it implied something more than just destruction. Castiel seemed to notice this too, because he tilted his head to one side, thoughtful.
"That does explain your anomalous behaviour," he said. "You have had ample times to kill this boy, and yet you haven't yet. In the past, you would not have hesitated to strike him down before he saw it coming."
"It is not your business."
"It would seem that Raphael is not content simply with the shards of Gabriel's self," Castiel mused. "Perhaps he too is 'covering all his bases'."
Suriel remained stubbornly quiet while Castiel spoke, and Sam had a feeling that the ex-angel was voicing his thoughts for the Winchester's benefit more than his own.
"If Raphael had control of this vessel as well as the grace he is collecting, he could control how long it would take to return Gabriel to his former self…all the while, he could instruct the vessel in his understanding of Father's plan," Castiel realized. "He would gain a readymade ally to restart the Apocalypse." He sighed. "And by withholding the last of that grace, he could keep Gabriel under his control."
"Gabriel squandered his place by consorting with pagans!" Suriel cried. "He gave up his right to an archangel's place in Heaven."
"Be that as it may, sister, I am afraid Raphael's plan will not work out."
"Oh really?" Suriel spat. "And what are you going to do, abomination? You know what difficulties there are in defying an archangel. He's already killed you once."
"True," Castiel allowed, "but you forget that I have helped resist the plans of two archangels. And as to what I can do…" He trailed off, and suddenly whipped around, a silver blade glinting in his hand before he shoved it into Jason's abdomen.
Sam felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, dread and anger warring for supremacy. Beside Sam, Dean jerked and let out a silent curse.
The teenager choked, staring at Cas in horror as the ex-angel hauled the blade out. "But…but you– ?"
"I am sorry," Castiel told him quietly, "but Raphael cannot acquire Gabriel's vessel. If you are dead, you cannot give permission either."
Jason's knees gave out and he fell to the ground.
From behind the ring of Holy Fire, Suriel stared dispassionately at Jason's crumpled form, and then looked at Castiel. "That is only a temporary obstacle, brother. And we will still find Gabriel's grace."
"Yes," Castiel agreed. "But not today."
He made a motion with his hands, and Sam and Dean moved into action, flicking open their lighters and igniting the Holy Oil sodden rags within the glass bottles they carried. As soon as there was light, they hurled them at the angels on either side of Suriel.
There were twin shrieks of anger and pain as the angels went up in black, stinking flames. Suriel howled in rage, and glared out at the three of them.
"Your taste in allies has not improved, Castiel," she hissed. "If anything, it has declined. At least the Winchesters were the vessels of the Sons of Light. You consort with human whores now?"
And, okay, ouch, but it was nice to know that whatever mystical transformation Aggie had performed on them, the angels couldn't even sense who they were when they were in the same room.
"I am sorry that you cannot see the truth, sister," Castiel said, approaching the flaming circle with the still bloody knife and a pouch of sand.
"Go on. What difference does another angel's life make to you?" Suriel spat. "You are already a traitor and a murderer."
Castiel considered her. "I have no intention of killing you."
"If you don't, I will come for you," she promised. "I will dog you until the end of your pathetic human life and then hurl you into the Pit myself."
There was a long silence, and then Sam saw something in the light that looked almost like the ex-angel was smirking.
"So what else is new?" he said conversationally, cleaning the knife he had used to stab Jason. At Suriel's wordless fury, he added, "You will deliver a message to Raphael." He knelt down, drawing the knife across his palm and began to draw the banishing sigil, and then looked up. "Tell him he's still my little bitch."
He emptied the bag of sand along the edge of the circle, extinguishing the flames there. At the exact moment Suriel reached out for Castiel, he pressed his bloody palm against the floor.
Suriel disappeared with a howling shriek and a flash of light.
(*)
There was a groan from the floor, and Cas was suddenly down on his knees, shrugging out of his flannel outer-shirt and pressing it to the boy's wound.
"…when did this become the plan?" Dean heard the kid groan weakly as he and Sam hurried out of their hiding spots and toward the prone figure.
"It was always the plan," Dean told him as he dug into his pocket for his cellphone. "We couldn't tell you because you had to be convincing."
"No one's convincing when they're expecting to get stabbed," Sam added.
During the brief period where Cas and Sam had talked Dean into Sarah's plan to use herself and Cas as a guinea pig, they had come up with that last little change.
It was also something Dean hadn't been too keen on.
The kid groaned again. "When I angel up, I'm smiting the shit out of you people."
'If you live that long,' Dean thought grimly. Stomach wounds were notoriously temperamental, even when precisely inflected. They could kill a man in anywhere from two minutes to thirty minutes, and had been a huge risk on their part.
Dean punched the speed-dial while Sam brought out his own phone; probably calling Sarah to assure her that everything was fine and to have her keep Jason's family away until he was healed.
"Is it done?" a sharp voice demanded in Dean's ear.
"Yeah, they're gone," Dean assured.
"I'm ten minutes away. Will he survive that long?"
"Driving a little faster wouldn't hurt," Dean replied, hanging up.
They had had to make sure Kali was within driving distance before they even attempted this plan. Luckily she had been back in the country since after they summoned her, but no one was really pleased by the rushed nature of the latest events.
Dean came to kneel beside Cas and Jason, trying to read his friend's expression. To be honest, Dean was a pretty proud at how Cas had held up through the entire ordeal; the whole exchange had proven yet again that his nerd angel friend was one bad ass motherfucker, even as a human.
But one thing continued to bother Dean.
"I still think we could have done this differently," Dean muttered.
"The angels had to think Gabriel's vessel a lost cause," Cas told him patiently. "It has bought us time."
"I know," Dean retorted. "But now they're going to be looking for you. Raphael thought you were dead, man, and now he's gonna know you're not."
"It was necessary in order to ensure Gabriel the time to regain some of his grace, so that he can at least defend himself," Cas said. "Although, I do understand your concerns." He frowned. "Perhaps I should take my leave."
"What?" Dean cried before he could completely control himself. "Why?"
"You and Sam would likely have a better chance if I were to depart from you," Cas said reasonably. "Raphael's attentions would then be split, looking for you and looking for me."
"Dude, you wouldn't last five minutes on your own."
Cas frowned. "I have observed enough about humans to interact with them convincingly. And I have taken a bus before, which would fulfill the need for transportation."
"And where are you going to get money for that?" Dean demanded. "Besides, you don't even know how to do your own laundry yet. And you're too trusting, so someone's gonna take advantage of that. Raphael'll pick you up no problem."
"Perhaps you are right," Cas agreed after a moment, though he sounded disgruntled doing so. He looked down at Jason. "Perhaps I will go with Gabriel. He will know more about blending in, and I can be of service aiding him in finding his grace."
"Unless Raphael pulls a Michael and sends your face to every freak of nature preacher out there," Dean pointed out, his mind churning out many different reasons why splitting up was a bad idea. "Then not only are you caught, but they'll catch Gabriel. Then all this was for nothing."
"And I will kill you if that happens," Jason piped up. "In case you forgot? You stabbed me." He pointed at his gut. "Right there."
"Butt out, brat, grown-ups are talking," Dean growled, while Cas went quiet.
"So I either endanger you and Sam, or my brother," the ex-angel finally said, dismayed. "I could now get you two caught as well."
"Hey, we're used to being on the run – I really hate to say it, but right now Gabe's your best bet for beating Raphael, not us, so let him do his thing," Dean said. "And we're not kicking you out, man. We'll deal, the way we always do."
Cas tilted his head, studying Dean, and then smiled fractionally. "Very well. I will remain with you."
Dean steadily ignored the flare of relief and happiness that warmed his insides at that.
"Good."
"Are you guys going to kiss?" Jason asked. "Because I could do without the sappy chick flick stuff."
"You know, that looks like it might become infected, kid," Dean scowled. "I've got some alcohol here somewhere…"
"No, no, I'm good, shutting up," Jason choked.
There was a banging noise that sounded very much like a door being busted in, and then the sharp clack-clack of heels. Kali appeared in the room, a business like expression on her face.
"This is the vessel?" she demanded when she was several feet away, staring down at Jason. "It's broken."
Jason was staring at her in awe. "Who's the MILF?"
"The blow did not pierce any of his vital organs," Cas told her mildly.
"Perhaps," Kali said grudgingly, kneeling down by the teenager as she brought out the vial of grace. The tiny wisps of light within were swirling crazily within it, as though they could sense the presence of the vessel.
"I should do that," Cas said, reaching for the vial. Kali pulled away, and he gave her a pointed look. "Even a sliver of grace has the power to burn the profane on contact. You remain a pagan god, while this body is still a vessel. Unless you wish to be dissolved once that phial opened, I would suggest backing away."
"Great, now there're gods, too?" Jason mumbled sourly, while Kali bristled and relinquished the vial. It occurred to Dean just how invested in this she actually was.
'Huh. Maybe she actually did love the guy,' he thought, though it was a mystery why. Gabriel, dead or alive, was still a douche. Instead of voicing the opinion to Cas, though, he simply told his friend, "Vessel or not, buddy, you're going to have to watch your eyes. Trust me, you really don't want to go through this mortal thing with no peepers."
Cas nodded to show that he was listening, and then leaned over Jason with the vial in his hand. He was murmuring something quietly which Dean couldn't quite make out because he was backing away. Kali did the same, and they all shielded their faces in anticipation.
There was a gasping, choking sound, like someone inhaling or imbibing something quickly and then the tinkle of glass hitting the floor. There was movement – likely Cas getting out of the way – and then a sensation of warmth hitting him in the face.
Dean clenched his eyes tightly shut, aware even through this that the bright light that emanated from the direction where Cas and Jason lay was not the same brilliance of a full powered angel.
When it was gone, he opened his eyes and stared over to where Jason continued to lie on the ground. For a fleeting second, Dean thought maybe the plan hadn't worked, and all the grace had done was exacerbate the wound.
The kid groaned.
"My brothers keep stabbing me," he mumbled, blinking up at the ceiling. "I'm beginning to resent it." He reached down slowly, pulling at the material of his shirt and revealing to everyone that the fatal wound was gone. He snorted. "It's totally unwarranted, too. I'm not even the black sheep in the family. Off-white, maybe. Grey at the very most."
An expression of cautious relief spread over Cas's face, and within him, Dean felt some tension he hadn't realized he was holding on to let go. It had worked.
"Gabriel?" Cas asked, stepping forward to help his re-angeled brother up.
The kid grinned.
"More like Jason-Plus, right now," he said, and then his gaze fell on Sam and Dean. There was a familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, it's you two chuckleheads, is it? Gotta say, lovin' the re-model. Ninety-percent less dick."
"You talkin' about you or us now?" Dean retorted, and the kid cracked up laughing.
When he calmed down, the Trickster look had faded and instead was replaced with wide-eyed, childish enthusiasm. "Holy crap, you guys, I feel like I just snorted a line of coke! Only, you know, without the actual drugs! You've gotta try this!" He paused, peered at Sam, and then added, "Well, maybe not you."
"Loki?" Kali asked, her tone cautious and carefully guarded as she too stepped forward.
The kid eyed her for a moment, eyes performing an obvious up and down flick. The Trickster look returned and his grin turned into an all-out leer. "Bonjour, mon amour."
Kali might have been about to smile, but a sudden commotion nearby ruined the moment. Donna was running into the building, Jenna and Sarah at her heels. Apparently Sarah hadn't been able to keep them occupied much longer.
"Jason! Jason, are you okay?" his step-mother cried, pushing past human and pagan-god alike to envelop the teenager into a hug. "What happened? Where are those…those people? And what was that light?"
"Mom – Mom, relax," Jason said, holding an arm around the shaking shoulders of his step-mother. He hugged his little sister with the other. "Everything's going to be okay now, alright? I'm not going anywhere." Kali and Cas sent him a sharp look, which he returned with warning in his eyes, and then continued, "Not until I'm sure you're alright."
Donna pulled away, staring at Jason in disbelief. "Not until…?"
"Hey, I've got important work to do, okay? And I'll explain it all, I promise," he told them. "You just gotta know that I'll always be a phone call away."
"Jason, I don't…understand."
"Later," he promised, and motioned for the pagan goddess. "Right now, I want you to meet Kali. She's an old…friend." The look he shot Kali implied something a little stronger than friendship, though. "She's going to drive us home, okay? I just need to talk to these guys first and then we're going home."
Donna still looked monumentally freaked, but folded at Jason's calm and resolute tone.
Kali seemed a little annoyed, but inclined her head once at the kid's gaze. She led Donna and Jenna out of the building. Jason watched them go, and then rolled his shoulders, turning to the Winchesters, Cas and Sarah.
Sarah mostly.
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said smoothly. "You said your name was Sarah? I'm guessing you're Sammy's girl."
"'Sammy'?" Sarah echoed, and Dean saw his brother pale.
"Yeah, Sammy," Jason grinned. "Or does he always tell you to call him 'Sam' too?" He turned his attention on Sam and Dean, eyebrows raised in a question. At Sam's infinitesimal shake of the head, his eyes widened. "You haven't told her yet?"
"Told me what?" Sarah demanded.
"Not right now," Sam said tightly, the order both at Jason and Sarah.
Taking pity on his brother, Dean jumped in, "So how much do you remember about being Gabriel?"
"About the last hour or so of my life," Jason answered, still watching Sam like he was debating about spilling the beans; eventually he looked away. Sarah was frowning, apparently trying to bore a hole in the side of Sam's head using only her eyes. "Which, I gotta say, was really anticlimactic. Hoisted by my own petard. Lame."
"You might not want to advertise that," Dean pointed out.
Jason snorted, looking at them both in turn again. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you muttonheads pulled this off. I'm going to take a guess, but the Apocalypse – you stopped it?"
"Michael and Lucifer are in the Cage," Dean confirmed. "But there was…a bit of a snag."
His eyes flicked over to Cas, and Jason's eyes tracked it.
"Yeah, I was going to ask how little bro ended up slumming," he said, frowning. "But we're tight on time, so I'll have to drop in for war stories later. I've got to get my mom and Jenna somewhere safe right now. Raphael's not going to fall for this little con very long, and when he figures out that my soul isn't in Heaven where it would be if I actually died, he's going to come looking for me."
"Picturing you with a soul…kinda new territory," Dean remarked.
"I know, right?" Jason grinned.
"You should contact Balthazar," Cas spoke up. "He has hidden an ally of ours before, he will likely do so again."
"Complaining all the way," Jason agreed. "Will do."
He turned to leave, and his shoulders slumped a bit. "Ugh, I can't wait until I get my wings back. I loved to drive, but now that I remember flying…" He sent Cas a look. "How do you deal with it?"
"By remembering that I gave it up for a reason," Cas said quietly.
The former angels shared a look Dean couldn't interpret, and Jason actually offered a real smile for once. "Really? Huh. Well, just use protection, okay, bro? Remember what a hassle the Nephilim were."
This one Dean didn't understand at all, and Cas too had a puzzled look on his face as he asked, "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?"
They watched Gabriel leave, and Sarah rounded on Sam. "What was he talking about? You said you had told me everything. How does he know Sam?"
"Uh," Sam swallowed, not knowing what to answer first.
Dean promptly turned around and started walking away. Much as he had wanted to see Sarah's face when she learned the truth when he had thought it would be humorous, she looked kind of scary right now.
"I'm bushed, what about you?" he asked Cas loudly, and dug out his phone. "What's say we order a pizza and head back to the motel for a well-deserved night-off?"
"We might wish to switch accommodations first," Cas replied reasonably as Dean glanced down at his phone screen and saw that he had missed four phone calls. Flicking to the home screen, he noticed he had several voicemails as well.
'Never a good sign,' he thought with a frown while Sam stuttered through some kind of explanation or another, obviously still trying to keep from giving the big reveal. Dean's stomach clenched when he saw that it was Lisa who was phoning him. 'Something's up.'
He wandered away from the others, pressing his phone to one ear and plugging his finger into the other, waiting for the stupid phone voice to stop chatting and get to the message.
When it finally did, he felt like the air had been crushed from his lungs.
"Dean," Lisa's recorded voice was frantic and it sounded like she had been crying. "Dean, you need to come back – it's Ben – Dean, he's missing."
