A/N: New Daddy Drabble and new chapter of Ordinary Human up on my profile now!
Dean knew. Sam knew that Dean knew. And yet neither brother said a thing because even though they were Hunters, they were also Winchesters and that meant being able to hold onto hope even when there wasn't any, even when your fingers were tired and stiff from keeping such a tight grip.
He didn't know about the Angel they mean to summon but Dean knew something was going on because Sam refused to look him in the eye except when he was coddling him, wouldn't give him any straight answers. Bobby was never around anymore, always claiming to be out working on the junkers in the lot but Dean could hear movement in the basement when there shouldn't have been any.
Dave sat with him now because Sam was lying and Bobby was busy but neither one wanted Dean left alone, especially Sam. The doctor became a constant presence, blending into the room as much as the chair by the bed or the lamp on the beside table. Even when mysterious thumps came from below the floorboard, he said nothing, gave Dean no hint at what was going on, only glancing up to track the steady progress of the footprint as it ate Dean Winchester whole.
Dean knew.
Xxx
It happened on a Thursday morning at sunrise when Dean was asleep, recovering from a brutal fit that had kept him up the night before. Dave was confident he wouldn't wake any time soon but none of them had ever summoned an angel before so just to be sure, the doctor slipped a small dose of sedative into Hunter's IV line.
"Okay," Dave said, joining the other two in the basement. "He should be knocked out for a few hours at least, the door to his room is locked; I think he's good."
"I guess that's it then," Sam said, looking and sounding too nervous for own liking. He was glad Bobby was there as the older Hunter seemed to have taken the lead. He'd already drawn the angel trap – at least that's what they were calling it – and the bowl of ingredients sat in the middle of it. Surprisingly, nothing too exotic had been put into the mix besides the human heart, some rare herbs and spices, but Bobby kept those in stock and had had everything they needed.
"Now or never," Bobby grunted. "Sam? You want to do the honors? I never was too smooth at Latin." Bobby handed over the sheet of paper, trying to ignore the fact that Sam's fingers were trembling. He didn't care to think too hard about what they were going to do if this didn't work or if the summoning went sideways in any manner. At the end of the day though, there's wasn't much to lose. Bobby would rather die trying to save Dean than not do anything at all and he was sure Sam felt the same. And Dave…well, the guy could have ditched if he wanted to and Bobby didn't dwell on that fact.
"Just light the ingredients," he handed Sam the matches, "and read the incantation and then get out of the trap as quick as you can. But you gotta say the words while you're standing in it."
"Right. Okay." Sam took a match out and before he could let himself stall any longer, he stepped forward into the trap and then lit the match, crouching down and letting the ingredients catch the flame.
A summis cælorum usque ad rimas et foramina terrae animo simus inter nos provocet orta ex superioribus.
His Latin wasn't perfect but it was pretty damn close and he'd been practicing the words in his head for enough days that they rolled off his tongue like multiplication tables in second grade, easy and second nature. Somehow in the midst of the spell, his mind flashed back to John drilling him at a motel, saying how important it was that Sam know this, how vital.
John had been right.
He backed out of the sigil-laden trap as quick as he could, expecting an angel to appear before him in a puff of smoke, just like a demon would.
Nothing happened.
"Did I – did I say it right?" Sam asked, squinting at the paper.
"Sounded right to me," Bobby offered. He'd taken off his ballcap and it was currently being crunched to death in his hands.
"Maybe it was the ingredients," Dave said, taking a step closer to the trap. "You sure that heart was good?"
"You think I ripped it out of a dead person?" Bobby snapped, tense from anticipation. "I killed the guy then and there. You need a video?"
Dave was just about to snap back when a clap of thunder cracked. All three men ducked instinctively and Sam was glad they had given Dean the sedative after all.
"Am I going crazy or did that come from the floor?" Bobby said, nodding toward the trap. The sigils – painted in both Sam and Dean's blood – started to glow and then tremble as they stared at them, writhing in place like snakes.
"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Sam asked. Bobby was saved answering when the floor – the concrete floor – of the basement rolled like waves in the ocean. Dave was thrown to his knees while Bobby and Sam stumbled backwards until their bodies hit the wall.
"What the hell?" Sam yelled because now a wailing had joined the bucking floor. He had no choice but to drop to his knees with his hands over his ears. That didn't make a difference.
The noise climbed in decimals that made Sam's skin shiver over his bones, his ears drip blood, but it his eyes remained open until the light came. It was white but a thousand colors at the same time, filling every crevice of the room, every fissure in the entire basement, sliding between Sam's ribs and bruising his veins with the force of it. Every flaw of his burst forward and he saw himself at five finding out about Hunting, he saw Dean at thirteen in a hospital bed for the first time, his father's face the night Sam walked out the door for California. He couldn't decide what was worse: the overwhelming rush of memories he had tried so hard to repress or the assault on his senses as the light and noise continued to batter his body as it hunched on the floor.
And then it stopped and the silence was perhaps even more powerful, as if every molecule in the air had frozen, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
When the overwhelming light faded to a mere glow, Sam Winchester looked up, palms smeared with blood and blinking away images that shouldn't have been there. Slowly, the basement came back into focus.
Crouching in the middle of the Angel Trap was a man. Down on his heels with his palms flat on the floor, Sam could see the leather cuffs wrapped around his wrists. As he watched, Bobby bent over the edge of the trap and locked a similar cuff around the man's neck.
A collar.
His dark hair – almost black – was tousled, his fingers white at the knuckles as they dug into the floor, creating divots in the concrete.
"Who are you?" Even after the screeching of the Angel, Bobby's voice was too loud. The man on the floor flinched and Sam took a step forward, feeling a new flash of intense doubt. The man – creature – pulsed with energy and power and danger, a live electrical wire. Sam noticed that Dave had left the room.
"I said, who are you?" Bobby repeated. Finally, the Angel lifted his head and Bobby stumbled back a step, catching himself on a table with an outstretched hand.
"Bobby!" Sam said, wondering if the creature had managed to hurt his uncle with a such a simple gesture.
"I'm good," Bobby muttered, shaking his head. " But the damn thing's talking to me inside my head." But then the Angel raised his mop of hair and fixed his gaze on Sam.
His eyes were blue. Not blue like the sky or the ocean but blue like a river that had been frozen for the winter and was just beginning to thaw. There was a depth to them but no emotion, just sapphire glass that held thousand – millions – of ancient secrets. The eyes seemed glued to Sam's for an interminable amount of time.
"Sam!" He jerked at his name being shouted. "Sam? You with me?"
"I'm here," Sam said, tearing his gaze away from the man whose head was now cocked, eyes narrowed into slits. His eyelashes were just as dark as his hair.
"What'd he say to you?" Bobby asked.
"What?"
"He was talking to you, right? When you zoned out there?"
"No," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Well he ain't shutting up to me," Bobby growled, glaring at the Angel. "And he's about to get a good thrashing if he doesn't cut it out."
"No," Sam said automatically, moving himself in between the Hunter and the Angel. "Don't hurt him."
"Sam, keep your head on straight," Bobby snapped. "That thing ain't human. I'm not saying he's bad but we don't know if he's good either. We don't know what kind of Angel we called down here.
"I know," Sam said, but there was just something pulling at him that told him this Angel wasn't bad. Somehow he just knew. He crouched down just outside the Angel Trap. The man dropped his eyes back down to the floor, had rocked back on his heels and was staring at his hands.
Inspecting.
"Sam, see if you can get him to be quiet." Bobby said. "It's driving me crazy. I'm going to have to leave."
"Hey," Sam said softly. The Angel didn't look up. "Hey!" Sam said and the guy flinched against the sound. Sam reached out, hearing Bobby take a step closer at the motion.
"Careful," the Hunter warned.
The Angel's skin was cool and clean-shaven where Sam gripped his chin, tilting it up. He braced himself against the onslaught of ice shards but wasn't ready for the grunt of surprise that came from the Angel when their skin connected. Sam's arm snapped back as the Angel reeled at the sudden noise from his throat, blue eyes becoming wide and almost innocent looking. Closer up, Sam could see that the guy was sweating enough that his hair was damp against his forehead.
"Can you understand me?" Sam asked.
"Y-yes." The word came out garbled and hoarse and again, the surprised look returned to his face. He rubbed his fingertips over his lips. "I don't want to be here," he said, voice sounding like tires over gravel. It didn't match his delicate frame. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't like it here."
"That's the same thing he's repeating in my head," Bobby said. The Angel's eyes flicked upward.
"Who are you?" he asked with reproach.
"I think we'll be asking the questions," Bobby said. Sam stood up and backed way, watching the Angel discover the leather collar around his neck.
"What have you done?" he asked, the first hint of emotion breaking through the frozen exterior.
"Just take it easy," Sam said, trying not to look as nervous as he felt when the Angel tugged on the cuffs around his wrist. They held. The Angel then stood and glanced behind him, looking for something.
"Who are you?" Bobby asked, repeating the Angel's earlier question. Somehow, the creature managed to look at both of them at once, his shoulders lifting in authority as he spoke the next sentence.
"I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord."
xxx
Sam hardly believed that they had done it; that they had managed to call down from heaven an actual Angel. Castiel. Who was standing in Bobby's basement looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"Please let me go," he said for the thousandth time. Bobby groaned and reached for a bottle of whiskey he had brought down an hour ago. At least the damn thing had stopped talking in his head but hearing the words over and over again out loud wasn't much better.
It was just the three of them; Dean was still sleeping upstairs – unaware of celestial being in the basement – and Dave was with him. Bobby hadn't asked when he checked on the two a while ago but seeing that Dave was halfway through his own bottle of liquor made him assume the Angel had one hell of an aura.
"I'd like to leave. I do not like it here."
"You think there's any way of resetting him?" Bobby grumbled to Sam as they watched from the perimeter of the room. "If you find the button, I'll press it." Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at already bloodshot eyes.
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," he said, sounding himself like a broken record. He wished he could be as resolved as Bobby about the situation but his emotions were all over the place.
"Hey," Bobby said, "It's only been half a day. You've got to have patience, Sam. You know that. Sometimes, Hunting takes time. Didn't your daddy teach you that?"
"Dean doesn't have time," Sam replied, unconsciously glancing toward the stairs. He was beginning to feel frantic and trapped, tethered to his brother's every breath.
"Listen up," Bobby said, putting down his glass and walking toward Castiel. "Besides going home – wherever that is – is there anything else you want? Food? Water?"
"I do not eat in human form," Castiel said. "Nor drink."
"Alright then. You mind if me and my buddy here talk to you?"
"I do not like it here."
"Well, you're staying," Bobby said. "So you can stop moaning about it."
"We need your help," Sam tried. When the Angel didn't say anything he continued. "My brother is sick and I need you to help him."
The Angel was wearing a beige trench coat, open at the front. He tugged at the lapels.
"You humans are fragile."
"Yes," Sam said but he sounded unsure.
"It is not my responsibility to fix what is broken." Sam's jaw dropped and Bobby put a hand on the boy's shoulder, but Sam shook him off.
"But you're an Angel!"
"I am." Sam remained dumbstruck. He had never considered that they would be refused help. All his energy had gone into the actual summoning, not the aftermath. This though, would have been hard to predict. Here they had a real-life Angel sitting in front of them and the goddamn thing was refusing to help. So the stories weren't true.
"So you're not going to do anything?" Castiel glared at Sam, whose stomach crumpled in on itself under the gaze.
"You, Sam Winchester – yes, I know your name – are greedy. You call me down here," he displayed his wrists, "You chain me to your magic and then demand that I heal your brother."
"What else was I supposed to do?" Sam asked, on the defensive. A trapped animal on his own turf, the panic swelled to new heights.
"Did you try praying?" He said this with the utmost casualty not even looking at Sam but further examining the cuffs.
"Did I -," Sam started then shut his mouth and looked back at Bobby who shrugged.
"Of course I prayed, you jackass!" Sam said. "I prayed from the moment the demon attacked to yesterday afternoon." Castiel had resumed interest in the conversation at the mention of demon. Blue eyes scanned Sam and Bobby head to toe as if sizing them up.
"If you prayed and your prayers were not answered as you wished them to be, then you must let fate run its course. I will not answer your prayers any more adequately than those who have already heard your pleas. You were wrong to bring me here and I will not reward you for that."
Bobby managed to wrestle Sam out of the room before he launched himself at the Angel.
A/N: Hey guys! Just a quick reminder that I don't update on holiday weeks so the next chapters for both this story and Ordinary Human will be in two weeks time. There will, however, be a Thanksgiving-themed Daddy Drabble up around next Wednesday, so look for that if you're interested. Happy Thanksgiving to anyone celebrating!