Castiel woke almost blinded by white light. He rubbed his eyes, waiting as they adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering in through a dirty window next to his bed. Where was he? A quick look around indicated a generic hotel room. The air was still and the room stuffy. Someone had removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket thrown on top of a scratchy comforter.
He was filthy. Dust mixed with sweat caked his skin, and his clothes were stiff with it. Pain pulsed through his head and shoulders, but it was dull and fading. He stumbled out of bed, clutching the night stand for support as blood rushed to his head, making the room spin. Black and blue spots speckled in his eyes sight. He stumbled towards an open door on the other side of the room, assuming it was the bathroom. He fumbled to turn the light on and grimaced at his reflection.
Tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face, leading up to eyes that were red-rimmed and swollen. A nasty looking bruise bloomed from the collar of his t-shirt, outlined with three or four messy puncture wounds. He splashed warm water on his face and neck, watching the water come away brown and dingy. After toweling off he entered the empty room once again, checking to be sure the door was locked.
He had no memory of arriving here. Memories flashed through his mind in the form of light and sound, never a clear picture. A wall covered in angel grace. Crowley, tied to a chair next to him. A syringe full of dark liquid. The plunger pushing poison into his body. Screams. Hands holding him down. Then nothing.
Where we his angels?
As if answering his question, he heard a rustle outside the door. Wings? And then familiar voices. He pressed his ear up to the door, straining to hear the exchange.
"I don't support this, Ambriel."
"That's fine, Hadarniel, because I do not need your permission."
"You need me to keep up the act."
"It's not an act. It's what's best for Castiel."
Castiel heard an exasperated noise. "I'll be back later. He's awake inside." Another swish, and then Castiel could hear a key jiggling in the doorknob. He retreated to the other side of the room, trying to appear as though he was examining his fingernails with intense concentration.
Ambriel strode in, pocketing the rusted motel key. "Good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Her smile was minimal, but present.
Cas cleared his throat. "Like I was injected with a large amount of demon blood."
Ambriel nodded, acknowledging his statement of fact. "It seems to have worked out of your system. You wouldn't be upright if it was still affecting you."
Castiel shrugged, sitting back down on the corner of the bed. "What happened?" If the state of his clothing was any indication, it had not been an easy escape. "After I was drugged, I mean."
She clasped her hands behind her back. "Hadarniel and I were able to find a way through the angel proofing. We found where she was keeping you and I removed you while Hadarniel destroyed the jars and the spell keeping the angels hostage."
Castiel squinted at her. "So… the angels…"
"Are free," she finished for him, "And Abaddon and her demons blown away. Safe to say that she will not be emerging again for a while."
Cas nodded, wincing as pain washed through his head again. Behind his eyes he saw a white light, angel fire, and couldn't shake the sensation that someone was covering his eyes. Was it a memory? A hallucination left over from the demon blood? And were those green eyes watching him? He felt the shadow of calloused fingers caress his hand, immediately shaking his head to clear it.
Looking up, he saw Ambriel staring out the window, her back to him with her hands clasped behind her back. Always a soldier "Ambriel… I apologize for not listening to you. I could have jeopardized the whole mission. Thank you. For saving me."
He couldn't see her face, but Ambriel's shoulders tensed. "No thanks necessary Castiel, though I accept your apology. The angels are free now, that's the most important thing."
Something nagged at the back of Castiel's skull. "Yes… Though I can't help but pity all the new vessels."
"They still need to consent." She turned around. "It's a good system. The only one we have right now."
Castiel remained silent. He thought of his own vessel, beaten, bruised, stuffed full of leviathan, dragged through purgatory and out again and then… nothing. Falling from the sky had brought a loneliness to his mind that he hadn't known in years. Jimmy was gone.
"I suppose I should let you rest," Ambriel continued, interrupting his thoughts, "We'll depart as soon as you feel well enough to drive."
Castiel nodded, internally dreading the cramped feeling of being in the car with two angels. He didn't feel much inclined to climbing back into the scratchy motel bed either. He knew he should write to Dean, his last letters had been sufficiently cryptic and Dean was surely angry at him.
He made his way towards the door, remembering his journal stowed away in his vehicle's glove compartment. "I'll rest as soon as I write to Dean—"
Ambriel was in front of him with a swish. "You should rest first. The hunter can wait a little longer."
He furrowed his brow, "Ambriel, I wish to write to Dean, let me go get my journal."
Before he could back away, she slowly raised two fingers to his forehead, her face stern. "Rest first."
Cas? Are you up yet?
…
Please, tell me you didn't mean that shit. It's okay, we've all done the demon spell-warping our emotions thing. Just let me know, man.
…
Oh god, you meant it. Cas, come on I know I've screwed up, but I've pulled my weight, right? I played nice with your angels when Ambriel asked. I came and got you from that torture chamber. We saved the angels' Grace and stopped Abaddon and all that, but you gotta know it was all for you. Everything was for you. Please, buddy. Talk to me.
…
No moree Cas. No more. I won't mess anythin' else up for you. Ambriel and Had can take care of you, she made thatcrtsya crista VERY clear when I left. In fact, maybe you should have left me in Hell where you found me, and maybe your life wouldn't be such a wreck now. Coulda still had your wings, CAsTIEL, if oyou hadn't started rollin' in the mud with us humans. Would probably be hurtin' less about now, though maybe that's just me. Maybe you're just fine, laughin' it up at Dean WiNChester and the hole in his chest that he hasn't been able to fix since he pushed you away.
Goodbye Castiel, non-Angel of thee Lord,
Dean Winchseter
Dean knocked back another glass of scotch as he scrawled his name at the bottom of the page. Maybe it was uncouth to get shitfaced out of a crystal tumbler, but hey, blame it on his upbringing. A few stray drops landed on his writing, beading bright gold on the creamy paper. Dean tried to dab it up before it smudged the pages, but his hands weren't workin' too good and besides, he didn't care. The journal closed with a slap that Dean felt in his bones. He shook his head and sought out the decanter for another splash, though it turned into more of a river as Dean filled the glass.
"I thought you didn't drink anymore." Dean put the bottle down heavy as Sam made his way up the few steps to the library. He was still pale, and leaning more of his weight on the safety railing than Dean liked.
"You should be in bed, little brother," Dean grumbled, the liquor burning nicely as it slicked down his throat.
"I'm worried about you."
"Why?" Dean demanded, plastering on a jaw aching grin, "I'm celebrating! Cas is safe, he's makin' friends, he doesn't want anything more to do with us…" His smile disappeared quicker as he'd slapped it on, and Dean suddenly found the contents of his glass freakin' fascinating.
"What?" Sam looked confused, "That doesn't sound like Cas."
"Sounded like him when he said it." Dean frowned. There was somethin' not quite right with that sentence. Whatever. A bead of scotch still clung to the bottom of his glass and Dean watched it track back and forth as he swirled it. It was hypnotic. Comforting, really.
"Dean."
"What?" Dean snapped.
"What actually happened?" Sam asked, dropping into the chair beside Dean.
"I already told you," Dean sulked.
"No," Sam corrected, "You poofed into the war room, practically bit Kevin's head off when he asked about Cas, threw Crowley in the dungeon 'for safe keeping', and you've basically been in here with that bottle ever since. Tell me, Dean."
"Abaddon," Dean mumbled, "She…she shot him full of demon blood."
"Jesus," Sam breathed.
"Yeah. Well, we got 'im out, and Ambriel was tellin' me he was gonna be okay," Dean continued, "Cas starts comin' round and I'm there with him. Just, the minute he figures its actually me he flips shit man, worse than that time with Alfie and Naomi. Like, full on waterworks and beggin' me to get out. Tells me I'll ruin everything. Tells me…tells me he's better off without me." He must have drank too much, 'cause his voice is gettin' rough. And when did his head end up in his hands? A hand lands solid on his shoulder, Sam's giant paw a warm and steady weight against his swimming vision. Dean had to laugh despite himself.
"I tell you what Sammy," he admitted, "Ever since Purgatory, my tolerance is absolute shit."
"I think we could both use some rest," is all Sam said.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "Yeah okay. You need any help?"
Sam's smile is bare and sad.
"Sure Dean," he said, rising and offering Dean a hand up, "I can always use some help."
… Goodbye Castiel, non-Angel of thee Lord,
Dean Winchseter
Castiel never understood why diner patrons felt the need to talk so loud. Most of the time he enjoyed the sound of laughter. But it was too hot. The air too still. And Dean had rescued him from Abaddon and Ambriel had let him believe that he hallucinated it all. The eyes had been Dean's and the touch his alone. Dean had carried him out of the arena, brought him to safety, and then disappeared, only to resurface in a hurt, seemingly drunken letter.
He was missing crucial information and would seek it out from the source.
Castiel set his pen down slowly, staring at Ambriel while she read the newspaper, seemingly innocent. His ears burned as he watched her, and if he didn't already have an excuse to loathe her while she accomplished mundane activities, he did now.
Ambriel's eyes had followed him as he took the journal from the glove box and carried it into the diner with them. She still watched him out of the corner of her eye when he opened it after the waitress took their breakfast order (pancakes for Castiel, coffee for the angels). As he read the words her gaze drifted away, landing on a random local newspaper the last customer left behind. He tried to catch her eye now, but she appeared engrossed.
"Castiel?"
Hadarniel's voice broke through his thoughts, snapping his concentrated rage. "Yes?" He spat.
The older angel's brow knitted together. "Are you alright?"
Castiel forced a smile on his face, nearly splitting his skin in half. "Of course. Thank you for your concern." He snatched his keys and the journal from the table and stood up. "Ambriel, could I speak with you outside, in private?"
Ambriel looked up from her paper as if she hadn't been listening and watching all along. He loathed how her eyebrows raised as she nodded silently and how her pink pants stood in blinding contrast to the beige and white of the diner.
Outside, the day was drizzly and hot, the sky a creamy white. Ambriel followed him wordlessly, stopping with him when he halted next to the Cavalier. She squinted in confusion while he flipped through the pages of his journal, arriving at one near the middle and shoving it at her to read.
She took the book slowly and scanned the page. "I don't understand," she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes, "The strange communication between you and Dean Winchester remains an enigma to me, what are you trying to tell me?"
Castiel laughed, a bitter taste stinging the back of his throat. "You feign ignorance so well, Ambriel." He turned away, crossing his arms.
He heard the crunch of the gravel as she stepped toward him. "Castiel-"
"Dean is drunk," he continued, "To explain the poor handwriting and spelling. I imagine that's the only reason he's even speaking to me. Something tells me you know the reason behind his anger."
He turned around to look at her, and her young face halted his anger for a moment. But through her eyes he knew she was no child, but an ancient creature that proved to be far from human.
"You were hurt, Castiel. In a way I couldn't heal. I wanted you to be able to heal without stress. I don't regret my decision," she explained, her voice sounding flat and thick in his ears.
"What decision?"
Ambriel looked around, itching to fly away. "You walked into that arena without any thought as to how dangerous it was. How you put us all in danger. You let your emotions and your hero complex get the better of you and then I had to fix it." Her voice rose in volume, and she planted her hands on her narrow hips. "The wards were sound, we needed a human. I only knew of one who would help us. So I went and got your Winchester. I asked him for help I knew he would give."
Castiel laughed bitterly, his lips curling under his teeth. "I would never want you to bring Dean in this. You had no right—"
"I did what I had to. To save you. I called Dean and he carried you out of there while Hadarniel smashed the bottles holding all the angels, that much was true. We got you back to the hotel. You were mostly unconscious."
"Mostly? Were you lying about the demon blood too?" he spat.
"I wish, Castiel." Ambriel shivered as the rain began to fall in earnest. "We got you to safety. And when you came to you were half out of your mind. I stood outside. Dean tried to bring you back to yourself, talk you out of it, but it was hopeless. You could see Abaddon, you thought she was holding Dean hostage. You said hateful things to him. I imagine it was to get him to leave the imagined danger."
Cas exhaled, his lungs deflating. "And you… you let him go?"
She nodded, her eyes locked with his. "I did what was best. His presence was causing you duress. You needed rest for the demon blood to run its course."
He turned away, letting his eyes fall shut. "I… want to believe that you have the best intentions, Ambriel."
"My intentions are to help our family, Castiel. You running after Dean Winchester is hardly our objective."
He nodded, pursing his lips. "So letting me believe that I was hallucinating him seemed like the best alternative to you?"
"Yes. It was the best decision for our mission."
"Our mission?" Castiel's voice cracked. He whipped around to face her again. "What mission, Ambriel? The angels are free. They're ransacking host bodies as we speak, and taking lives away from innocent humans who have no idea what they are saying yes to." He looked down at himself, sighing.
"We can help, just let me-"
"And now Dean-" He swallowed hard. "Dean thinks that I…" He turned away again, bracing his hands against the roof of his car, not letting her see the muscles of his face jerk and twist.
"I want to save our family, Ambriel. Our home." He ran a hand through his own hair, pulling hard enough to sting. "But I can't just forget about the one I've made here on Earth. I've already ruined so much."
Ambriel sighed and strode over to Castiel, facing him with her piercing hazel eyes. "Listen." She said with finality. She pushed his journal into his chest with a smack, snatching his car keys from his hands.
With surprise Castiel turned and watched as she keyed open the trunk to his car, rummaging around until she found what she was searching for.
She held up a faintly glowing jar. Hi stomach dropped and bile rose into his throat.
"Is that-"
She held up a hand to silence him. "Please. Just listen. Go back into the diner and get Hadarniel. He has to explain something to you. And then I'll tell you my plan."
"Your plan?"
"To save Sam Winchester."