Disclaimer/Spoilers: See Chapter 1
A/N: Sup. That's all I gots. Enjoy! Don't forget to tip your editor on the way out!
Heroes Fall
When all the heroes fall,
The world plays its wicked games,
And I am left defenseless
'Cause I know the sky's gonna say my name.
The sky's gonna say my name.
A pennant
Waiting for a rescue.
Sam bolted upright in bed and threw the covers from his legs, turning automatically to squint at the clock on the nightstand. An ultimately futile effort to gauge how long he'd actually slept, since he had no idea what time it had been when Bobby had finally forced him into bed. He'd resisted, not wanting to leave the hunt for Dean for even an hour, but after running nearly four days on nothing more than caffeine and micro naps, the older hunter had gone so far as to threaten Sam with Castiel if he didn't sleep at least a few hours.
He looked toward the door to his room, blinking away the fuzz of a stretch of sleep much shorter than his mind or body truly wanted, and thought about the angel from his dream. Part of Sam – the rational part that had very nearly been a lawyer – believed that maybe it had really been just that, a dream. The result of an overly tired, desperately hopeful imagination. Except it had felt too . . . real. And if it had been a dream, why the hell would his brain have conjured the image of an angel telling him that his college buddy was a demon?
He pushed himself up from the bed and quickly changed into a clean shirt and pair of jeans before heading toward the main rooms of the bunker. It didn't take him long to locate Castiel in the library, glaring down at the screen of an open laptop like he didn't trust the thing. And possibly like he expected it to betray him.
Sam glanced around the room before asking, "where's Bobby?" Despite the older hunter's threats, he had a hard time believing the man had paused the search in order to sleep himself.
"Food run," Cas answered distractedly, jabbing a finger against the keyboard. He frowned when the computer clearly failed to do what he wanted.
Sam pulled out at a chair across the table and sank into it, taking a moment to really look at the angel. He was a bit surprised to see Cas sitting still; since Dean went missing, Castiel had been going nonstop, same as Sam, popping in and out of the bunker as he checked out every lead he could think of. He hadn't known it was possible, but the angel looked worn and tired and in desperate need of a break. If angels even took breaks.
Sam cleared his throat. "Hey, Cas?"
Castiel looked up from the computer screen, shoving the offending object away with disappointment. His gaze fell on Sam's face and he narrowed his eyes. "Something's troubling you," he said slowly. Then, considering, "Other than the obvious, of course."
Sam rolled his lips against his teeth as he tried to figure out how to ask about the angel in his dream. He finally decided to stick with a direct approach, since it had served him well so far. "Cas, do you know an angel called Seraphiel?"
Cas cocked his head, eyebrows worming together. "How do you know that name?"
Sam shifted in his seat and dropped his gaze to where his hands were splayed against the tabletop. "She, uh, appeared in my dream this morning."
"Interesting." Castiel leaned forward in his chair, clasping his own hands in front of him.
"Interesting?" Sam parroted, lifting his head. It wasn't quite the response he'd been expecting, or hoping for, and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. "Why interesting?"
"In the previous timeline, much like Michael, Seraphiel wasn't directly involved in the events unfolding. Instead, she stayed in heaven, directing forces from there and working through lower class angels stationed on earth." Cas frowned thoughtfully. "I don't believe she ever left heaven."
Sam nodded encouragingly. "Who is she?"
"Seraphiel is the commander of the Seraphim and protector of the scribe of God. She works directly under Michael and the other archangels. If she's on Earth . . ." Cas shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "What exactly did she say to you?"
Sam swallowed thickly, also uncomfortable with the idea of such a powerful being visiting him in his dream. "She said she wanted to help find Dean. She said he was important." He paused, watching the angel's expression carefully as he asked, "can we trust her?"
"I am unsure of her intentions," he finally admitted. "But . . ." Castiel nodded. "Dean's safety would be a priority."
Sam released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relieved to know there was at least one more angel out there who had his brother's back. But that didn't mean he didn't still have some reservations about Seraphiel. Clearly, it showed on his face.
"What is it?" Castiel asked.
He chewed his lip. "She also said that if Meg and Lilith found out what Dean is that they'll kill him and make sure no one can bring him back."
Cas brought his clasped hands up to his chin and leaned into them, contemplating. He was quiet for long enough that Sam started to fidget, before finally the angel broke the thick silence. He lifted his chin, settling against his seatback. He sighed, then told Sam, "Dean is the archangel Michael's vessel. His true vessel." The angel eyed Sam carefully as he spoke. "A fact very few angels knew until after Lucifer's rise and even then, only a select few knew much more than Dean was meant to lead the forces of heaven against the devil."
Sam frowned, shaking his head. "I don't . . . I don't understand."
00000
In the span of a blink, the agony in his head reached levels Dean thought were impossible. Searing heat ripped through him, like he was being torn in pieces. He sucked in a breath that felt like a thousand serrated blades swirling in his lungs, and he was sure that he was dying.
Except he didn't die.
Dean gasped as the sunburst of pain suddenly disappeared, as quickly as it had come on. He fell forward, trying to curl around himself, but was stopped by the bloodied binds at his wrists. What breath he could draw came in short, quick gasps that skipped and stuttered across his lungs. His ears were ringing, through the din he could just make out Meg and Uriel arguing, but the sounds were warbly, lost in the dull drone and floating by him with little significance.
Heart thudding painfully against his ribcage, Dean struggled to get his breathing under control. Whatever the angel had done – had tried to do – had hurt like a son of a bitch, and while the fiercest of the pain had faded away, his entire body ached and trembled in aftershocks. His fingers curled around the arms of the chair, and he bit his lip to keep from groaning.
A hand snagged his chin, gripping with bruising force and yanking his head up so viciously that Dean heard something crack in his neck.
"You think you're clever, boy?" Uriel sneered, glaring down at him.
"Generally," Dean replied through squeezed cheeks. He blinked furiously in an effort to clear his fuzzy vision, shifted as best he could within the angel's grasp. He wasn't exactly thinking straight and had no idea what the feathered freak was referring to.
The angel's nostrils flared. "That seal can only protect you for so long." He released Dean's face, roughly shoving his head back.
Dean's features folded in confusion as he searched his scrambled thoughts. It took him far too long for his own liking to realize what Junkless was talking about. The seal he'd used to merge his present and future souls together – he'd added an extra sigil he found while translating the spell for the seal. A concealment sigil, a locked door to hide and protect all his memories so Gabriel and those like him couldn't take what wasn't theirs to take.
He leaned forward, clenching his hands into tight fists to absorb the pain the motion caused, and gave Uriel a half-cocked smirk. "Guess you won't just be taking what you want after all."
The angel returned the expression with a sneer of his own, looking down his nose at Dean. "That's where you are wrong." He looked away, shook his head with an arrogant, amused chuckle, one that filled Dean with dread and made him feel about two inches tall. "I doubt a hairless mud monkey like you read the fine print on those sigils, so allow me to alleviate you of your ignorance. Those sigils are only as powerful as the bearer's will." He leaned in closer, until Dean could smell his curdled breath. "Tell me Dean Winchester, do you think your will is stronger than mine?"
He clenched his jaw, sucking in slow, steady breaths as he narrowed his eyes up at the angel. If Uriel wanted to see Dean squirm, well, he'd be damned before giving him the satisfaction.
But when Uriel reached out and placed a palm against the side of his head, Dean flinched in spite of himself. A cruel smile split the angel's face.
"Let's find out then, shall we?"
The angel placed his other hand on the opposite side of his head, and Dean's world exploded all over again in white hot pain.
000000
Shoulders slumping, Sam let out a frustrated growl as he slammed the lid of his laptop shut and shoved the computer across the tabletop.
Across the table, Bobby lifted his gaze from his own screen, face folding in unwanted, unnecessary concern. Before the older hunter could launch into another pep talk, or tell him one more damn time that everything was going to be okay, the heavy iron door at the top of the spiral staircase screeched open, saving them both the trouble.
Sam pushed out of his seat and turned his attention toward the war room, looking up with wide eyes as Castiel appeared in the bunker, fresh off a new lead. The angel solemnly shook his head, indicating another dead end, one more goose chase, and Sam leaned forward, digging his fingers into his hair.
"Sam . . ." Bobby started softly.
"Bobby don't." Sam reached out and wrapped his fingers around the back of the chair, gripping it tightly as he talked. "It's been five days. Five days. What if . . ." He bit down on his bottom lip and turned his face away from the others, unwilling to even finish the thought.
A tense silence fell over the room, a not-unexpected pause as the others no doubt entertained darks thoughts of their own. But as the quiet stretched on, without Bobby's reassurance or Castiel detailing his next move, Sam sighed heavily and turned back to the others, only to find the library empty. He recoiled, hand lifting reflexively from the chair. "The hell?"
"Close, but try the other direction."
He twisted in surprise toward the female voice cutting through the room, eyes widening as he saw the angel sitting on the end of the table. "Seraphiel," Sam breathed, gaping.
"There you go," she responded evenly, propping her feet up on one of the chairs.
Sam raised his eyebrows, gazing around the library. It looked just as it had only a moment ago, just without Bobby and Cas. "Is this . . ."
"A dream?" Seraphiel nodded. "You fell asleep. Well, sort of. I may have helped."
"Helped?"
The angel waved a dismissive hand. "You'll be fine." She jumped down from the table, squaring up to Sam. "We needed to talk."
Sam nodded dumbly. He raised a palm to his chest, thinking about the sigils Castiel had carved there. He frowned. "How – "
" – did I find you?" She shrugged carelessly. "I didn't. I found Cas, and he led me to you." The angel narrowed her gaze. "Might wanna talk to him about being a bit more careful 'bout things like that."
"All right," Sam answered automatically, but he had no idea what she expected him to say to Castiel, how he was supposed to pull rank with an angel. His head was spinning, and he felt completely over his head, but Seraphiel had come to him, had said she wanted to help him, so he pushed forward. "If you know where I am, then why not just come in? Why . . . " he gestured vaguely around the space around them.
She lifted her chin. "I have my reasons."
"Which are?"
"Mine," the angel said shortly. "Do you want my help or not?"
Sam held his hands up in capitulation. The last thing he wanted was to annoy – or worse, insult – Serapiel out of helping him find Dean. That came before all else, so he shoved down his insatiable curiosity and motioned for the angel to continue as respectfully as he could.
She nodded, satisfied. "Due to the same sigils carved into your brother's ribs, it took a bit to locate him. But—"
"You found, Dean?" Sam interrupted, stepping closer as hope surged through his chest. His heart thumped wildly. "How? Where? Is he okay?"
The angel's eyes narrowed, a moment's hesitation before she answered. "He's alive, currently. In Cold Oak, South Dakota. I believe you're already familiar with the area."
Sam swallowed thickly, remembering all-too-well the events that taken place at Cold Oak. "Why would she take him there?"
Seraphiel folded her arms over her chest. "It's hidden, for one. Nobody in their right mind would go there, and as a known supernatural hotbed, it would be easily overlooked."
"But if you know where he is," Sam started, that curiosity once more rearing its untimely head, "can't you just – "
"No," the angel responded shortly, and simply, not giving any further reason.
Sam bobbed his chin, head spinning and focus shot as he started compiling a mental list of the supplies they'd need to get his brother, then to get Dean home safely. A question pushed unbidden to the front of his mind, and he was too out of sorts to bite it back. "If the sigils keep you from finding us, then how did you find Dean?"
Seraphiel didn't answer right away, face folding in a frown as she took a deliberate, obvious moment to debate her response.
Sam didn't know the angel, but he could tell the hesitation was uncharacteristic. The uneasy expression looked out of place on her and that alone filled his gut with dread.
"I heard him," she finally said.
"Praying?" Sam asked, confusion pinching his face.
"Screaming," she corrected, her tone softer and tinged faintly with regret. "He called out for help, and the sound shook the heavens."
Nausea surged in Sam's gut, and he placed his hands against the table as he struggled to steady the suddenly tilting bunker. "Why . . . " He swallowed thickly, trying to get his thoughts in order, to ask the right questions so he could be sure he wasn't about to walk the others into an ambush. His heart yelled trust her, told him to get his ass to Cold Oak and get his brother. But his head needed to know exactly how she'd managed to find Dean in just one day when they'd been looking for five. He had to ask, because he didn't need to trust her, just her information. "If . . . heaven . . . could hear him, why couldn't Castiel?"
"I can't say for sure, but I believe some of the demon's warding was placed specifically with Castiel in mind. It was only after I realized he couldn't hear his charge that I thought it prudent to intervene on Dean's behalf."
Sam felt the overwhelming need to sit down before he fell down, legs rubbery and weak as he digested this new information. He tried desperately not to imagine what it would take for his tough, resilient, unstoppable big brother to not only cry out for help, but to do it desperately that it would literally shake the heavens. All that could be dealt with once Dean was home safe. And he would be, now that they knew where to look for him.
He pursed his lips and nodded, raising his gaze to the angel. Sam blinked as she and the room around her began to waver like a shuddering filmstrip. Somewhere behind him, an urgent voice was talking but he couldn't make out the words; it sounded like the person was speaking from the other end of a long tunnel. He thought maybe he recognized the voice, but before he could put his finger on it, everything went dark.
Fingers tapped against Sam's cheek, lightly at first, and then with more urgency as awareness began to return.
"Come on, kid."
He could tell now that it was Bobby, sounding nervous but not panicked. Somewhere behind the older hunter, Castiel's deep cadence mumbled something indecipherable.
"You think I didn't try?" Bobby snapped back. The pad of his thumb rubbed against Sam's cheek, trying to coax him back. "Come on, Sam. Wake up."
But Sam wasn't sure he could. His eyes felt so heavy, and it would be much easier to just sink back into the soft oblivion. But a sudden realization jolted through him and his eyes snapped open as he sucked in a sharp breath.
Bobby released a shaky, stressed breath of his own. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, kid. I told you, you need to – "
"Bobby," Sam said urgently, cutting the man off as he reached up to grip his arm tightly. He looked into the old hunter's face, then glanced over to an equally as worried Cas standing just beyond Bobby's shoulder. "I know where Dean is."