Chapter Twenty Five:

Fading Light of Grace

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"Sam." The booming calm voice sounded sad and the miniaturized hunter didn't want to hear that right now. Or ever. "Sam?"

"No." He muttered, pencil lead stabbing absently at the neon post it note paper with a bit more force then was warranted.

"Sam. You... you can't stay here by yourself. You know that." Jody left out the numerous reasons why out of respect for the small soul. There was no need to pour salt in wounds. "And I can't stay here either. Claire has school, I have to return to work. I have to. I'm not saying we're giving up, far from it. We're just... relocating the home base to my house."

Sam cocked his head to the side, eyeing up the huge human. "I'll be fine here." He ground out, then softened. "I'll be alright. It's not the first time I've hunted Dean down solo." Shrugging off the concerned expression overhead.

"No, you won't be fine all on your own, Sam. You can't even get in and out of the bunker and half of the electronics don't work well with your energy. What would you do if someone came here, knowing you're by yourself and..." she let it hang in the hair, waving a hand around at the enormity of the bunker and reluctantly at how small he was to defend it. The bunker would actually be safer if it were empty. Anything hunting the Winchesters wouldn't be drawn to it if they weren't seen going in an out. It was amazing that they weren't ambushed sooner with how famous the brothers were. Surely, at some point, some vengeful monster had followed them back from a hunt all the way home. Maybe that's what happened this time.

Sam wasn't privy to her internal musings, responding to what she last said, "I can get in an out if someone storms the castle." He rolled his eyes but it was too small for Jody to notice. "Just. I dunno, leave the garage door open a crack. That will be enough. I don't need to be inside a vessel to cross the threshold wards in and out. Crowley's spell solved that. I'll be alright. But you two should go. Get back to civilization." he chuckled and turned back towards the police band radio, twirling the pencil lead in hand.

Jody frowned and stood up again from where she'd been kneeling in front of the table. She pulled out a chair nearby and sat down in it, folding her hands in front of her but still giving Sam some space. "Sam, listen, I'm worried sick about them too. But we've all been searching for days. You haven't even slept."

"I don't need to sleep." Sam waved a hand towards the power outlet that was placed on the table for him. Specifically to recharge his 'batteries'. "If... when, I find something, I'll call. But I can't... I can't..." Sam struggled to find a good enough reason for him to stay at the bunker. Coming up with the thin excuse that it was because this is his home. This was where Cas and Dean would return to if they could come back on their own. He felt like he was abandoning them if he left the bunker.

"Can't... what?" Jody decided to put a little pressure on him. Get him to see the bigger picture. "Can't come with us because you think we can't protect you? You'd be better off without us?" She asked, knowing that wasn't the main issue, but had to find out if it played a part in his stubbornness. Claire sucked in a breath and they both realized she was close enough to hear their discussion. Jody turned towards her, regretful in her choice of words.

Sam saw the giant teen stand and start to leave the room, trying not to show how upset that thought made her. Claire let her hair fall in front of her face to hide it from view, and she pulled out her cell phone as a distraction. The young woman kept trying to prove herself to them and hearing that it wasn't enough... "No! No, you two are ok, great, even. I appreciate all the hard work you both did! I just... I don't want to..." Sam accidentally broke the bit of pencil lead in his fist. He dropped it next to himself and growled a little in frustration. He took a breath or two. Feeling Jody watching him, expecting an answer. Claire was gone already. Sam hoped he didn't hurt her too bad. "I don't want..." his voice trailed off. He didn't want them in any more trouble. They'd already done so much for him.

Jody leaned back, hands in her lap. That probably was his answer. He just didn't want to. She nodded a bunch of times. "I won't make you come with us. I'm not going to do that. I am just saying, that, we should stick together. You should, could, stay with us. Offer's open, and it will stay open." Jody grinned at him, heart breaking but there was still that glimmer of hope. "It's a long way to Souix Falls is all, and the trains leaving the station in an half an hour. You know the way there right? Can you fly that far?"

Sam's eyes went a little wide and his jaw dropped open. He was fully expecting to have some kind of argument about this, or even be manhandled into coming with her. But her acceptance of his decision made him think twice about why he was making that decision to split up their little group at all. Everything she said was true. Even the things she wasn't saying. That they were stronger together. They were a family, after all they'd been through together.

Jody stood from the table and nodded once more at Sam who turned in his seat to watch her walk away. Claire came back in momentarily to gather up her notes from the table, and followed after Jody to the bedrooms to gather up their things. The ladies had to borrow a few clothes from Dean's room because their own limited wardrobes needed washing. Bad. Sam's old clothes were just too large for them, and Cas rarely switched up his clothes at all. The angel's tattered hobo sweatshirt and pants were far from desirable. Sam said they could probably even keep Dean's clothes if they wanted, they all got their shirts and pants from thrift stores and army surplus. It wont be missed, but, Claire and Jody insisted on returning them in good condition.

Sam was alone in the library so he turned back to the police band radio, listening to the static. No reports had come in for anything in hours. Not even a cat stuck up a tree. Sam knew there were no more leads to be found in Lebanon. His brother and best friend were nowhere near here. He could pack up a few things and go with Jody and Claire and it wouldn't be as hard to be alone. Sam already felt lonely with the ladies gone from sight. Even knowing they were probably just in the laundry room fetching their things from the dryer wasn't enough to squash that ache in his chest. The empty hole where his family was supposed to be.

Sam couldn't hear them at all from his table in the library, but figured that was the next logical step for them in packing up and taking off. When they get back to Souix Falls, they're gonna be too busy with their own stuff to search as diligently as they did here. Jody said it herself, she needs to work and Claire has school. And if he does happen to find Cas and Dean, he would have to wait six hours minimum for Jody to drop everything and drive to the bunker to get him, then however long after that to go get Dean and Cas. Precious time wasted.

Sam made up his mind. His stuff was frequently moved from the bunker to the Impala and back again every time they went on any hunt. This wouldn't be much different. He'd just need to have Jody grab their spare weapons and things from around the place and throw them in the rear of Jody's jeep. Making it the new 'Impala' until they get the real one back again.

Jody came back into the library and then walked past Sam's table, dropping the couple of bags down at the base of the stairs leading up. Claire soon followed with her own bags and a pillow under an arm. Sam had offered his memory foam pillow to her after hearing how much she loved using it there.

"Jody?" Sam called over and at first thought he wasn't loud enough but she turned towards him, intent of giving him her full attention. She came closer, a wary look in her eyes as she knelt down again to be more eye level with him.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Got any room for one more?"

Her smile lit up the room and she wiped a surprise tear from her cheek. "Yes. But uh, you should know, you're gonna have to somehow squeeze into the back. Claire already called shotgun."

"I think I'll manage." He smiled back up. That ache lifting a little from his chest.

It took a bit of time, but eventually the three of them gathered up all of the essentials from around the bunker and locked it back down again. None of them knowing how long it will sit empty this time, but hoping it wouldn't be too long at all.

Jody stashed all of Sam's weapons in the rear hold, under their bags to help hide it from civilian's eyes. Claire had already made up a spot for Sam between the front seats. An origami like folded chair/bed made out of a sweatshirt. Sam found it very comfortable and let himself rest his eyes. He'd worry about the decision to leave the bunker later. They had a six hour drive ahead of them, and, like Jody said, he hadn't rested in days. He would be useless to them if he wore himself out. Electrical energy was not a permanent substitute for his soul's natural recharging energy.

Claire waited awhile for Sam to drop off to sleep before draping her hand and arm behind and partially around his bed. Ready to protect the small man from whatever came their way. Jody glanced over and pretended not to notice how serious her adopted daughter was taking the role of guardian. Even if there was trouble or a car accident on the drive back home, Sam's the one that would make it out, out of the three of them. He'd probably instinctively go back to being an incorporeal soul on impact and just float through the car itself.

However, the sheriff couldn't deny the urge to protect someone so little. A person that was hardly bigger then a mouse. She too wanted to hold him tight and promise that every thing is gonna be alright. Sam lost so much already, and now, he even lost his brother and Cas to an unknown enemy. Jody knew it was in their hands to keep Sam safe, even from himself. There was no telling what would happen if he was left alone there. With his inability to sense time, it was completely possible that he'd be there, in that bunker for years without even knowing it. Devolving into madness at the absence of life there. The lack of family. They need him to stay 'Sam'. Because it would be too easy loose himself in the timeless quite loneliness.

Jody can not let that happen. For now, she let Claire take over the roll of caretaker, while she focused on the road ahead. Praying to God above that Cas and Dean are alright. Then, praying to Cas directly to let him know what they're doing. She had no idea if the angel ever got any of her prayers, but couldn't find it in herself to just stop. If there was even a remote chance he was listening, she'd keep doing it because he needed to know. It also made her feel better. Thinking that he'd find some comfort in the prayers, wherever they were. That they were missed and they wouldn't stop searching for them.

Castiel's knuckles were bloody and leaking thin traces of blue-white grace light by the time he lost the strength to keep pounding his fists on the door. The wards on the other side sapped nearly all of his grace from his body. He had to stop or else die there. He slumped against the wall next to the door and wept as hard as he did the day the brothers died. He failed. He had one job, to protect them and he failed spectacularly. He should have just kept Dean inside his vessel. Kept him safe. He'd still be alive right now if Castiel had just... if he just kept Dean safe. He was one small four inch tall man. How hard of a job was it to keep him safe?

Castiel had been beating up himself almost as much as the door, and neither got him any closer to Dean. He had to stop. He had to think rationally. He had to come up with a plan of action. But damn, did his body need to rest. Right now, he was seconds from passing out. He kept himself up, attacking the door, the walls, the wards beyond with his already limited grace and now it's like he's only got this thin wisp of it left inside of him. He could barely call himself an angel right now.

There were humans, formal angel vessels walking around with more grace then he's got. The traces of grace that an angel leaves behind in their bodies... the fingerprints. Those humans have more grace then he does right now. That muffled realization had him nearly crying out but he knew it would only be petty self pity. So he shoved it aside and leaned up against the corner. Closing his eyes and letting himself rest for a minute. If he didn't, if he pushed himself too hard, he'd pass out. Waking up after that would be nearly impossible until his body healed all the way. If he rested by choice, he would have a better chance at waking when the need arose.

It was painfully obvious that he wasn't getting out of there unless he was let out by those malformed guards. Best he can do now is get some of his strength back. He blinked an eye open at the 'food' on his tray and swallowed down the urge to vomit at the sight and smell of the Okami flesh. The 'Pound of flesh for his few ounces', is what that creature said. As if the righteous man could be summed up in his current size alone, and not deeds and worth. Castiel shuddered against the corners of the wall and pushed the tray to the far corner to get some space from it.

He then brought his knees up to his chest as he sat on the floor, hugging his legs and letting his head drop back. A dull 'thunk' echoed in his stainless steel room from the minor impact. He knew well the sounds of his fists, feet, knees, and even elbows had on the walls and floors, and just added the sound of his head dropping in despairing sadness to the list.

Sometimes he would feel a faint whisper in his head, and imagined it was a prayer aimed to him. Of course, with as much warding and sigils as there were here, it could easily be his imagination. But, he liked to think of them as prayers because that meant that he wasn't alone here. That someone gave a damn about him, that wasn't just the brothers. A nagging voice in his head commented unhelpfully that the Winchesters were probably only with him out of their own needs and desperate necessity.

The 'maybe' prayers that he's been hearing here, now, had felt differently then the casual way that Sam and Dean had prayed to him in the past. The brothers prayed to him as if they were shouting from another room, or sending a text, over the more traditional prayers he's heard and overheard over the eons. Castiel knew that he wasn't a well known angel to anyone that still prays, and it was exceedingly rare to be prayed to because of his near anonymity. So it was probably someone that just saw his name in a book of angels and thought it would be funny to pray to his name at random. Or perhaps they meant to pray to his angelic name doppelganger, as Sam had put it, Cassiel, and they were stuck with him instead. A near graceless angel that can't even open a door to save his friend.

Castiel shook his head side to side. He had to stop putting himself down like this. A never ending cycle of self flagellation and regrets. Castiel felt that little whisper again and could almost feel words coming through this time. It felt like a reassurance more then anything and he let himself smile at that. Someone was praying to him, he heard his nickname instead of his full name. Only humans that know him call him 'Cas'. Someone did give a crap about him. He just wished he was able to fully understand the prayer and to reciprocate.

Castiel woke to the sound of his door being unlocked and he scrambled to his knees to get away. The feeling of freezing in place came back and he watched in mute anger as the monster that had taken Dean from him had returned to his cell.

This time, it was holding a pair of angel sigiled handcuffs in it's clawed hands. Castiel noticed that the bag Dean had disappeared into was no longer at it's side and he was scared of what that implied. Of course, he couldn't do anything about it, he was held completely still by this foul beasts unnatural power. Castiel's hands were pulled in front of himself and the cuffs were expertly attached to his wrists. Maneuvered around like a mannequin, he seethed with rage on the inside. Knowing that this creature did the same to Dean, and likely worse... Castiel would give anything to smite this abomination from the Earth right now. Nobody hurts his family. Nobody.

The monster rubbed its thumb along his frozen hand and looked into his eyes for a moment. It then frowned at Castiel. It started to growl but remembered itself and asked in English instead, "Angel, why have you spent so much of your grace?"

Castiel couldn't answer of course, but it didn't look like the beast was expecting him to.

The monster tutted him like scolding a child as the thumb rubbed harder against the back of his cupped hand. Castiel felt his grace roil inside of himself, becoming slightly stronger the longer the thing touched his hand. It started talking as it did so, head cocked to the side slightly. "This should hold you over till afterwards." Looking Castiel dead in the eyes. "Do not waste it again."

The beast yanked upwards on the cuffs and Castiel was forced to stand up abruptly. Then, the thing turned and walked out of the cell, tugging on the handcuff's leash and Castiel was forced to start following behind. His legs and body moving against his will. He mustered up enough free will and struggled hard against the cuffs, but they squeezed his wrists tighter and he was compelled to obey that much more. His muscles locking up before moving into a stiff legged obedient walk. Back straight and arms forward enough to give the monster a better angle at holding his cuffs as he led the way.

"Fighting against it only makes my job easier." The beast noted and stopped to look down at the angel. It was nearly a foot taller then him, forcing Castiel to cast his gaze higher. His jaw was still locked shut so he glared since he couldn't speak. The monster went on, "I prefer if you didn't fight me. I had a rough day already." and turned briskly forward without explaining anything further.

Castiel was bewildered and outraged that this creature would say something like that to him. This thing took Dean and likely ate him. Castiel has every right to fight against him every step of the way. But the cuffs made him compliant, and he followed crisp and dutifully behind him. Nary a step out of pace with the larger, and currently more powerful, being.

Castiel was led into a large kind of storage room that had a number of empty cages and tanks in it. Only a few of the containers still had living things inside. Castiel struggled to see past the one that led him into the room to see any way of escaping. Loud voices were in another room down the hall, past a heavy door, nearly all the voices were muffled and excited. The loudest one was barking something at the rest and he could feel the floor vibrate with the activities.

Castiel's attention was snapped back to his own predicament as he was being shoved and artfully arranged into a glass box about the size of an upright coffin. His feet legs pushed and pulled to stay straight and pressed to the corners of the glass box. Probably for him to keep his balance intact should the box be turned or tilted. His heart started beating faster as his arms were also arranged with precision. This monster had done this before. Many times.

Another imprisoned being was being inspecting by other werewolf/troll thing. The small being stood at about 6 inches, and appeared to be some kind of fairy with arachnid appendages. Castiel had heard of such a thing once from one of his brothers, it's an Aranick. However Castiel knew for a fact that it was from the Fae realm. He thought that all the portals to the Fae worlds were closed. This one must have gotten itself stuck here, somehow. Now, it was far from home, in an unsympathetic world, as it was being carried out while still inside a fish tank. It was if this was something that happened every day going by the mechanical way the creatures in control moved and worked. Occasionally barking or growling something to each other as if bored of their task.

The one that was manipulating his body left to retrieve something across the room and Castiel now saw long elegant scripts all around the inside of the Aranick's tank. Most of the languages of the Fae were based more in prose then getting to the point, but this one was a plea for help in at least a dozen of the Faery's written languages. Castiel noticed that either the creatures that ran this place didn't see the words blocking out most of the view of the Aranick, or they simply didn't care. Either way, it was a pitiful sight to see something like a great Aranick being toted around like a scared, trapped, animal.

The small Aranick flew up to the latch and started to scratch ferociously at the immovable lid. Screeching desperately for release before the tank was lifted and held against the tall creatures hip as it carried it towards the heavy door that led to the commotion down the hall. The door closed behind them, and a fresh way of cheers and calls sounded out.

Castiel felt dread deep within himself at the fate that befell all of the ones that had been in this room. Dean had mentioned an auction. Surely that was what was happening not far away. An auction that sold off intelligent, living beings. His eyes darted back to the monster when it came back over to him. Holding another pair of angelic handcuffs. Clicking it into a built in ring on his right hand side, and securely affixing it to his right wrist. The monster shook his hand around, out and to the sides. Making sure that Castiel wouldn't be able to get much free and easy motions once the monster was gone, taking with it the strange power it had to keep Castiel from moving. It then unlatched the original cuff from his secured right hand to hook onto an identical ring on his left side. It nodded to itself at Castiel's position, and stepped up close one last time to fix his hair, and straighten out his simple white shirt using just the tips of its claws, before closing the lid on his tall glass container.

The werewolf troll took one last long look at him inside the container and Castiel hated that it was supposed to be a permanent display case at worst, a temporary transportation crate at best. He was seen as an object now. Not an intelligent being. If they had no respect for an Aranick, keeping it in a tank, than there was little hope that they'd see him worthy of freedom either. A small part of him was jealous of the fact that the Aranick at least got enough room to move around. Meanwhile he was given about five inches of space all around and that was it.

The tall creature nodded to itself in a fairly pleased manner before it left the room. Another one came in with a label that was affixed to the front of his glass display case at about chest level. He couldn't read it from inside, but guessed that it had information on his species, because all of the other empty cases and tanks had similar labels that were written on tape. His was printed on nice thick paper. La de dah.

Castiel felt a little of his muscles respond to him again the further away the head creature's went, and he looked around the room for any sign of Dean. If he'd been in this room at all, Castiel couldn't tell. The only things left now was a rock with some crystals on it on a shelf, and a tank filled with fog on a table close to the door. Castiel squinted and saw a dead thing in that tank and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it killed itself.

The sounds in the next room over grew louder and one growled out word rang out above the others which sent dread down his spine.

"Sold!"

He was up next for auction.