Chapter 12 - The Hardest Part

Ducky set down his scalpel with a heavy sigh. McGee's autopsy was complete. The cause of death was obvious: a stab wound through the heart. The only thing unusual was the fact that McGee's blood had congealed and been reduced to a thick black sludge. He could only assume that it was a side effect of being possessed by Orochi.

He had written up a truthful autopsy report. He decided that he would edit it once he was filled in properly by the rest of the team, when and if they managed to free Jethro from the demon's clutches. He would change the date and times on the autopsy after he had finished correcting it to make it seem somewhat believable to Director Vance. He could only hope that the director didn't decide to visit autopsy before he had a chance to get McGee in a drawer, or he would have quite a bit of explaining to do, and the explanation was not one that Vance would believe.

He began stitching up the Y incision he had made down the young agent's chest, absorbed by his own thoughts. Just as he was finishing, he heard the autopsy doors slide open. He restrained himself from letting out a loud curse as he spun. He had been hoping to avoid visitors in an attempt to keep McGee's sudden death a secret, dimming the lights in autopsy and trying to make it seem as though he wasn't even there. Apparently, his plan to remain inconspicuous had failed.

Abby entered into the frigid room, flicking on the lights as she did so. "Hey, Ducky, have you heard anything from Gibbs? I haven't talked to him since early this morning. Oh, and why are the lights off?" she asked, turning to face him. Her eyes stuck on the body he was bent over, and they widened significantly. Her expression turned to one of pure horror.

"Abby, you cannot be here right now."

"Oh my God."

"Abby, please, you-"

She raced forward to get a closer look, and when her gaze found McGee's peaceful and still face, tears flooded her eyes. "No, no, no," she whispered, spinning to face Ducky. The forensic scientist towered over him. "How did this happen!?" she said, her volume rising as two tears traced their way down her cheeks. "He can't... how..." she faltered, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a harsh sob.

"Abigail, I will explain, but autopsy is not the place for you right now," Ducky said, trying his best to calm her. "Please. If you wait for me in your lab, I will explain everything once I am done with Timothy."

Abby nodded dimly, her face now streaked with tears. Ducky set a hand on her shoulder. "Okay," she murmured, wiping at her eyes.

"And please, do not tell anyone what you've seen here. As I'm sure you can guess, this involves the demon," Ducky said. Abby nodded again before quickly departing autopsy, not daring to look back at McGee's body. Ducky looked back at the agent's corpse. "She cares for you deeply, Timothy. I was hoping to keep your death from her for a little while longer, but apparently it was not meant to be."

Tony stared down the demon. How dare this thing inhabit his boss, use his body like some kind of plaything. Anger bubbled inside of him, and he was suddenly glad that he would be able to not only save Gibbs (hopefully) but also kill Orochi. Two for one deal, he thought before pacing forward, needle in hand. "Give me your neck," he demanded.

Orochi snorted before leveling a defiant glare at him. "I don't want your filthy blood."

"Cooperating is probably in your best interest right now, considering you're strapped to a chair with zero leverage," Tony replied, eyeing the outside line of the devil's trap. "I can step into this, right?" he asked, directing the question at Castiel, who nodded in affirmation.

"Oh, I may not be able to hurt you physically while you have me trapped in here... but there are so many interesting ways to destroy you just using what's inside this meat suit's head," Orochi said, a malicious smiling curving his lips.

"Don't call him that."

Orochi chuckled. "You humans, you always try so hard to make your lives seem more relevant than they actually are. I've lived a life hundreds of times longer than your pathetic existence... you're nothing, kid. Just a bag of organs waiting for the slaughter," the demon drawled.

"Do not let him provoke you," Castiel warned from beside him. "He can use your anger against you."

Tony roughly grabbed the side of his head and forced it to the side, exposing his neck. "Me, angry?" Tony asked, stabbing the syringe into the demon's carotid artery, eliciting a wince and a growl from Orochi. "Never."

"I'll kill you," Orochi spat as Tony depressed the plunger. "I'll rip out your intestines and force them down your throat."

"How very cliché of you," Tony retorted, turning his back on Orochi and making his way down the aisle between the pews. "Castiel, I'm not staying in here with that thing. Is the entrance hall still hallowed ground?" he asked.

"Yes," the angel responded, and he followed Tony as they exited the sanctuary.

"I'll be waiting for you, Tony!" Orochi shouted after him, a threat hanging in his voice. Tony suppressed a shiver as the doors shut behind he and Castiel. He sank down on a set of carpeted steps. A tarnished gold sign on the banister read that it led to a prayer room. Castiel sat down on the opposite side of the step, his hands resting on his lap as he stared at Tony.

"You're a fan of eye contact, I guess?" Tony asked, glancing sidelong at the angel.

"Yes. Dean has informed me that it's 'awkward', but I find that it's a difficult habit to break," Castiel responded, deadpan. Tony snorted slightly, leaning back. This was the first chance he'd had to just sit since they'd left NCIS to investigate Lance Corporal Belisarius's death.

His body felt like he'd been hit by a truck. His nose throbbed horribly, and every word he spoke sent a thrill of agony up his jaw, which he was almost positive was fractured. He was also fairly sure that he was concussed, if the fuzzy disorder of his thoughts were any indication.

He rubbed at his face, wincing as his fingers grazed the significant bruising there. He could feel the dried blood on much of the bottom of his face as well. He wondered briefly if Castiel could heal his injuries, but then remembered that the angel needed to conserve his Grace so he could get to Japan and find the Kusunagi. He rose from where he sat, looking around.

"Do you know if this place still has running water?" Tony inquired, looking around for a door that would lead to a bathroom. He spotted a side door by the entrance that looked promising.

"I believe so," Castiel said. Tony nodded, making his way to the restroom. Once inside, he wiped the dust off of a mirror and started the sink. He splashed water on his face, scrubbing gingerly around his nose and mouth to get rid of the blood. He wiped his face off with a paper towel before lifting his head to look at his reflection.

He looked old, a hell of a lot older than forty two. His entire face being a mess of bruises and lacerations didn't help. The thing that caught him the most were his eyes. Not the fact that most of the skin around them was black and blue, but that they looked so... empty. He hadn't seen his eyes look like that since Kate died.

He'd promised himself that day that he would never lose another partner, and he'd thought after he, McGee, and Gibbs had rescued Ziva from Somalia, he had succeeded in keeping that promise. After all, he'd crossed the world and fought tooth and nail to get Ziva back. If a massive terrorist organization couldn't break up their team, then what could?

Demons, apparently, he thought, clenching the sides of the sink, his grip white-knuckled. If he hadn't seen proof right in front of him, he still wouldn't believe it. Monsters were supposed to stay in closets, under beds, in nightmares - where they belonged.

He withdrew from the sink. Now wasn't the time for this. Once this ritual was over and Orochi was gone, then he'd wallow in the mess of emotions that were clawing at his chest. Or shove them down so far that he couldn't feel them and then drown them in alcohol. The second option certainly seemed more favorable.

Tony departed the bathroom and returned to the step, where Castiel was waiting for him, staring into the distance contemplatively. Tony sank down on the step once more, considering the angel. He leaned his head against the banister, closing his eyes. "Talk to me, Castiel. Tell me something. It's hard for me to get words out, right now."

"What do you wish me to talk about?"

"I don't know, anything. You're an angel, you must have some pretty crazy stories, right?" Tony said. "Tell me about you and the Winchesters. How'd you meet them?"

"The demon could require our attention at any moment. It would not be wise to get distracted by conversation."

"Oh, come on. We've got time," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Castiel pursed his lips.

"I raised Dean from Hell," he began. Tony blinked. Hell? I thought he was a good guy? "He'd been trapped there for the equivalent of forty years. I raised him from Perdition, as he was destined to be the Righteous Man, the one who would stop the apocalypse..." Castiel paused. "How much of Dean and Sam's current situation are you aware of?"

"Well, you guys mentioned Lucifer and Michael a couple of times when you first showed up. Lucifer, I knew, obviously, but Michael I wasn't so sure of. So, I Googled him. He's an archangel who's supposed to battle Lucifer in the 'end times'. You said apocalypse, so I put one and two together that you guys are trying to stop Judgment Day," Tony explained.

"That is correct."

"Okay. Keep going."

"When Lucifer originally fell from Heaven, he created the first demon, Lilith, by tormenting a human soul until no humanity remained. God punished him for this by locking him in the Cage, a prison deep within Hell; inescapable, unless sixty-six of the six hundred and sixty-six seals were broken. Dean inadvertently broke the first seal, and after that, the demons spent the following year trying to break the other sixty-five. For the first time in hundreds of years, the angels returned to Earth. We'd been in Heaven for a very long time. I was in a garrison of angels, the soldiers sent to fight the demons. When I first took a vessel and walked the Earth in human form, I was... almost mindless. An emotionless drone."

Tony was tempted to comment on how Castiel still seemed pretty emotionless to him, but decided the effort required to speak wasn't worth it, so he remained silent as the angel continued.

"Meeting Dean... err, the Winchesters," he amended quickly. "It changed me. I began to develop feelings and attachments. I began to question the orders I was receiving. The angels were losing the war to stop the seals from being broken open, and things were not going well. Heaven began to doubt my judgment. I was punished severely. When I returned, the last seal was set to open."

"Truthfully, the angels were never trying to stop the apocalypse. We - they wanted it to happen, so Michael could win and there would be Paradise on Earth... though there would have been billions of human casualties." Tony noticed that Castiel's tone had turned bitter. "We were meant to be their shepherds, but the Host wanted nothing more than to destroy what our Father had built. Dean was spirited away by an angel named Zachariah while Sam was hunting Lilith. She was the final seal; killing her would free Lucifer from his Cage. Lilith was the demon responsible for Dean going to Hell, and Sam had been tracking her for a long time. He was thrilled to have the chance to finally kill her."

"Dean begged me to help him reach Sam before he killed Lilith, to free him from the temporary prison Zachariah had placed him in. At first, I declined, but then..." Castiel lowered his eyes. "I realized that if I was going to stand for something, I was going to stand for the man who'd never told me a lie. The man who showed me that there were things on this Earth worth saving. Before him, all I saw was pain, but... he showed me something else. Something different, something good. I made the decision to stand for mankind. I betrayed the other angels and fell. I helped Dean escape and took him to the prophet, the man who knew where Lucifer's Cage was, and where Lilith was. Unfortunately... another archangel, Raphael, sought to stop us from doing so. We found the location and I sent Dean away. I tried to stall Raphael long enough for Dean to stop Sam from breaking the final seal."

Castiel's gaze was distant as he continued. "I failed. We all failed. Dean didn't arrive fast enough to stop Sam. He killed Lilith and set the devil free, and Raphael killed me. This happened five months ago. However, when Lucifer was freed, I was resurrected. I can only assume that it was God. This was when the entire scheme of both Heaven and Hell was revealed. Dean is the archangel Michael's destined vessel, and Sam is Lucifer's. Angels, like demons, need a host, and only certain bloodlines can handle angels. Dean and Sam are the only ones who can be permanent vessels for the two of them. They were the swords that the two of them were going to use to fight the apocalypse and end the world... but there's a condition that must be met."

"Dean and Sam have to give consent for Lucifer and Michael to use their bodies. So far, they have refused to do so. As long as they say no, the apocalypse cannot happen. We are trying to find a way to rid the world of Lucifer without having to resort to Dean and Sam surrendering themselves to the archangels. The amount of human casualties would be astronomical. That is where we're at now."

After a beat of silence, Castiel look at him again, waiting for some reaction. "Wow," Tony said, searching for words that would be appropriate for the story Castiel had just told. Before all of this, he would've never believed such a tale, but now, he clearly didn't have a choice. "That would make a really good movie. Depressing as all hell, but... still good."

Ziva had been attempting to sleep in the backseat of the Impala since Tony and Castiel had entered the chapel. She had rested her head on the seat, pulling the leather jacket that Dean had lent her over herself like a blanket. However, every time she closed her eyes, the events that led them here played in her mind's eye, and she found that sleep was unreachable. She did need to rest, however, so she remained there, a pit of worry for Tony and Gibbs gnawing its way through her stomach.

Family goes beyond blood. That was the lesson she had learned in Somalia. Abandoned by her biological family, it had been McGee, Gibbs, and Tony that had saved her from Saleem and his terrorist cell. The bond they had, it was forged in fire, and it didn't matter that they weren't related. They were family.

She felt like she did after Ari had died. Was killed, she corrected herself. Killed by you.

The next eight hours would be absolute torture, and she'd been through the real thing. She only wished that she could be in there with Tony, but she understood that this was something that the older agent needed to do by himself - or rather, with only Castiel. Angels were exceptions, she supposed.

Ziva jumped slightly when she felt Tony's phone vibrate in her pocket. She withdrew it, checking the caller ID. She gulped when she saw that it was Abby. She brushed her concern to the side, telling herself not to worry. Surely, Abby hadn't discovered McGee's body... Ducky would have kept her out of autopsy...

"Yes?" she answered the phone, still wary.

"Ziva," Abby said on the other end, and from the broken sound of her voice, Ziva knew in an instant that something was not at all right with her friend. "I..."

She heard Ducky's subdued Scottish accent in the background, and a moment later, he was talking to her instead. "I am sorry, Ziva. Abigail dropped in on me unexpectedly, she saw... well, I'm sure you can imagine."

"It is alright, Ducky," she said with a small sigh. "It was wrong of us to keep it from her. I just wish that... well, I wish for many things right now."

There was a sound of fumbling, and Abby was back. "Ziva, you've got to promise me something right now," she demanded, a sob breaking her sentence halfway through.

"Abby..."

"Promise me you'll kill the son of a bitch," she hissed out, acid in every word she spoke. "Promise me that you and Tony will save Gibbs and kill the monster that-" she faltered, and another sob erupted on her end.

Ziva felt tears welling in her own eyes, and she nodded dimly. She knew that making promises she might not be able to keep was unwise, but she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to live with herself if she didn't follow through.

"I promise, Abby," she whispered. "I promise."