"I'm going."
"You're not!"
"I have to!"
"I won't allow it!"
"You're not the boss of me, Sherlock!"
The whole room was in a sta two friends fought. Beside John sat a duffel bag, hastily packed. He had just received a call from a man called Lestrade; apparently, someone had shot at John's wife several times.
"She'll be fine, god knows she can handle herself!" Sherlock snapped.
"She's pregnant, Sherlock. Very, very pregnant."
"Well whose fault is that?"
John looked very agitated; he was turning a violent shade of red.
"Maybe we should just bring her here," Sam suggested. "I mean, a lot of the others have already left or are leaving to work on their missions, so we have the room. And you are a doctor, right John?"
John frowned but looked considerate. "That's . . . not a bad idea. Perhaps if the Doctor would give me a lift?"
"Of course," the Doctor, who had grown quite fond of his little group, exclaimed, already on his way to the TARDIS.
Dean looked around at the others. "While we wait, we need to talk about drawing our boys out."
"Top wanted list?" Clara suggested, and Ash gave a nod.
"That's a good idea," he said, grabbing a black marker and flipping the white board to the blank side. On it, he wrote Abaddon, Moriarty, Master, Metatron, and Lucifer.
"Number one for Abaddon?"
"Crowley," the entire room said in unison, and Crowley looked very annoyed – he glared at the rather smug looking Bobby – and drained his glass of scotch.
Ash nodded and wrote the demons name under 'Abaddon.'
"Sherlock, obviously, for Moriarty, and the Doc for the Master . . . Sam goes under Lucifer . . . what about Metatron?"
"Cas," Dean said reluctantly.
"Or Meg," Sam supplied. "She ripped his eyes out, y'know."
"Lucifer is gonna be out for her, too," Jo threw in. "Leaving his side for Castiel, that's no gonna go well with him."
"Lucifer can pick a reason to kill any one of us," Sam said. "And we don't have any way to kill him."
"We'll worry about Lucifer when we gotta, what we really need is an Archangel," Dean said.
"Hannah feels like Gabriel must be in trouble, or he would have found us by now," Charlie said from where she rested on the couch. "Michael, too."
"Awesome," Dean muttered, crossing his arms. "So, what besides the Cage can keep an archangel under wraps?"
Charlie shook her head. "No idea. From either of us."
"Unless they're both still in there," Sam said as it dawned upon him. "Why would Metatron let them out? Lucifer is the one that's going to cause all the trouble."
"He's right," Crowley acknowledged. "You'll have to open the Cage to let the others."
"How do we do that?"
"We'll have to go through downstairs," Crowley said.
"What, you mean just walk through hell until we stumble across the cage?" Dean snorted. "Hell isn't even in your hands anymore, Crowley. It'll be crawling with Abaddon's demons."
"So we'll create a diversion." Sam was nodding. "Cause a ruckus up here so some of us can sneak in and open the door. Opening the door will be a lot easier this time, from the outside, because we're just walking in – not trapping someone."
"Alright, then," Dean nodded. "So let's talk plan. I'll go in and get Gabriel –"
"No," Sam said firmly. "You're not going down there. Who knows what that could do to you, Dean."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Sammy . . ."
Sam shook his head. "Crowley and I are gonna go."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Dean snorted, and Crowley looked slightly offended. "Sam, if somethin' goes wrong down there and you get . . . messed up, no one is going to be there for you. I can't let you go alone."
"I'll go," Clara said, stepping forward.
Sam shook his head, his eyes furious. "No way!"
"Why? Don't think I can handle it?" Clara demanded, and the room was suddenly very tense.
"Clara, I won't put you in that kind of danger."
"I've seen worse."
"No, you really haven't!"
Clara glared and crossed her arms. "I'm going with or without you, Sam. I suppose if you want to stay here, Mr. Crowley and I will go instead."
"I wouldn't leave you alone with him for two seconds!" Sam said angrily.
"Then I guess you're coming with us," Clara said, turning the tables. "Because I'm going."
Sam wanted to argue, but he knew they were right; they'd have a better chance with three than with four.
"Harvelle and co, you're with me. Professor Song, Charlie – err, Hannah – Harlie, I guess . . . Let's confuse the hell outta some bad guys," Dean said.
The war was officially beginning.
At midnight, Dean, Jo, Charlie and River arrived at the warehouse Cas and Meg had investigated. Ellen, Bobby, and Ash were in the truck behind them. As they all exited the vehicles, blades and guns were distributed.
"All right," Dean said. "Here's the plan: Go in there and stab stuff. Any questions? Awesome. Jo?"
Jo nodded and sent a text to Sam. It's a go.
Sam was pacing when he received the message. He looked at Crowley and Clara, swallowed, and nodded.
Crowley snapped his fingers.
In the blink of an eye, they were suddenly all three standing in a filthy black cell. The sounds of screaming and begging could be heard all around them, and the stench of sulfur and sweat rose in the air.
"What's the plan?" Clara whispered to them as they opened the door a little.
"I've got one," Crowley whispered back, and he placed both hands on Clara's shoulders and shoved her into the hallway.
She stumbled back, landing against the wall, but she didn't notice that; two demons were already upon her, eyes black and faces sneering. Gasping, Clara stabbed one through the chest with her angel blade, forcing it through the demon's flesh and bone with both hands. The other was shocked, but only for a moment, as the next moment a blade was forced through its chest by Crowley.
More demons were arriving, and Sam shoved Clara behind him, killing two in a single swipe, slashing their necks. Clara moved to stand back to back with him, stabbing another one herself as Sam took on one more. Crowley had two bodies at his feet and was finishing with a third.
The three of them stood there in shock for a moment.
"Lovely job, dear," Crowley nodded to Clara. "You make great bait."
Sam crossed the hallway in one swift motion, his arm pressed against Crowley's throat and his blade pointed at his heart. "If you ever do that again . . ."
Clara put a hand on Sam's arm. "It's okay. Look, I'm fine."
"That was a cheap trick," Sam growled, really tempted to stab his blade through the demon's chest.
"By all means, mate, I much rather would have used you," Crowley said calmly. "But you're the size of a bloody giraffe, aren't you?"
"Boys," Clara cleared her throat. "We need to get going before the others arrive. They're bound to notice Dean's attack is staged at some point."
Sam was still irate, but he removed his arm, shoving past Crowley and pulling Clara directly in front of him, where he could see her.
They walked for quite a ways, Crowley giving directions and the three occasionally stopping to fight some of Abaddon's supporters. Finally, they stopped in front of a huge wrought iron door, thicker than a safe and surrounded by an archway of fire.
"Holy fire," Crowley informed them. "We need a few key ingredients to get the door open." He slid his palm open with a silver knife, and pressed the gushing wound against the door. As the blood trickled down the door, locks tumbled and clicked.
"There's the demon blood," Crowley said bitterly, before pulling a vial of blood from his coat. He opened the vial and tossed it on the door, letting it drip over the demon blood; it made a violent hissing noise and steamed.
"Would have been nice if it was fresh, but I work with what dear Castiel gives me," Crowley said. "Miss Oswald?"
"Whoa, hey, maybe I should," Sam said, stopping Clara from sliding the blade across her palm.
She shook her head. "You've still got demon blood in your system, Sam. It should be pure human." With a quick flick of the blade, she pressed her bloody wound against the door. The final locks fell out of place, and the door opened with a rumbling sound.
Sam's heart was beating fast and hard as they entered the Cage, and he froze for a moment, memories of his time locked in here rushing through his head.
"Sam," Clara said gently. "Just wait here, okay? We'll just grab Gabriel and Michael and be right out, alright? Just, wait here." She turned, jogging back to Crowley.
"I see you haven't told him about our little agreement," Crowley remarked.
"I don't see why he needs to know," Clara replied, squinting into the darkness.
"Relationships don't go well when based on lies, love," Crowley told her, taking a few steps forward.
"What do you know about relationships?"
"Lots. I consider you and me great friends, for example."
"You just threw me to the demons!"
"So? That doesn't mean I don't like you."
"Well, well, well, if it ain't his Royal Highness Sir Dicksalot." The mocking voice was suddenly behind them, and both Clara and Crowley spun around. He was dirty and looked exhausted - and he had an angel blade in his hand. "You guys make the decoys more and more lifelike every day. Your Sam Winchester trick was easy, one blow to the head and he was out like a light." He twirled the blade. "Which one of you wants to go next?"
"We're not fakes, you winged monkey," Crowley replied. "We're here to get you out of here, you and your brother."
Gabriel's eyes flashed. "My brother is gone."
"What happened?" Clara asked, and Gabriel's eyes darted to her.
"I don't know you," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Please," Clara said, taking a step forward. "I'm a friend of Castiel's. We've been searching for you."
"Castiel is alive?"
"For the mo'," Crowley supplied. "His grace is fading rather fast. Listen, I'd love to sit and chat, but this place is about to be swarming with Abaddon supporters and we need to go now. Can you fly us out of here or not?"
"Are you kidding? I don't have any power left at the moment, I use it fighting my way through the Cage everyday."
"Then we have to hurry." He nodded at Clara. "Go tend to your Moose. We'll be with you shortly."
Clara nodded and ran back towards the front of the cage, leaning next to Sam, who was indeed unconscious. She felt his head and was relieved that there was no blood; he was just knocked out.
"Sam," Clara said gently, slapping the side of his face gently. "Sam, wake up, we've got to go." She shook him. "Come on, you great oaf, get off your bum." He groaned, and Clara was relieved. "Up and at 'em, sunshine." She pressed her lips against his, and she almost laughed in relief when she felt his mouth respond and a strong hand on her back.
"Should we leave and come back?" Crowley demanded, and Clara pulled away, smiling as Sam struggled to sit up.
"Sorry, Sasquatch," Gabriel said, helping the Winchester up. "To be fair I thought you were a demon. But hey, you need the beauty rest."
"Remind me to kick your ass later," Sam groaned, and Clara grinned.
They followed Crowley out, the demons coming thicker and faster through the tunnels as they neared the spot they had come in. In the blink of an eye, they were back in the bunker, filthy, sweaty, and panting for breath.
Dean was on the couch, stitching up a cut on Jo's arm. Bobby was drinking whiskey from the bottle and wrapping his knee. Ellen was unharmed for the most part, a little bruised here and there, but nothing major. Ash and River were almost totally unscathed; Sam imagined River must have a lot of training, and Ash probably shot from a distance.
"Everyone alright?" Dean grunted, and Sam gave a nod.
"Headache," he said, glaring at Gabriel, who had snatched the whiskey bottle from Bobby.
"Where's the other one?" Jo frowned.
"Michael is gone," Gabriel said roughly, and no one asked him to explain.
The door opened, and Meg and Cas entered. While Meg looked shocked and uncomfortable at Ellen and Jo's aliveness, Castiel looked relieved.
"Hey, bro," Gabriel said weakly.