A/N:
I know, the chapter's title may be a bit dramatic … but hey, sue me. Supernatural is all about the drama, isn't it? ?
I needed to split this one in two – or else this chapter would've had about 8k ^^ I dig looong chapter, but that may would have been too much. So … there are 2 now.
Chapter 24 ~ Losing Samuel
Flakes of ashes covered the ground.
Everything was covered in grey and white.
Smoldering trees were seaming the extensive clearing. In its middle a white church. Untouched by the fire.
Sam looked around, his chest heaving, searching the trees, the clearing, the ground.
He felt it pulsating beneath his feet, and when he looked down, he saw his bare feet buried in ashes. When he looked back up, he saw veins of orange-red light gleaming in the same pulsating rhythm he was feeling.
Sam felt himself. Felt different. smaller. Younger maybe …
"And now … you are going to tell me, what you've seen.", a gravelly voice reached out towards his fogged mind.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Bobby startled awake by a clanking noise.
He had holed up in a gas-station behind the counter for some shut-eye, as he had been so tired and exhausted and his knees had hurt like a bitch. Bobby was no 20 anymore, he had to admit to himself.
Last night, it had seemed like a good idea, to crash there.
But now, that he was coming to awareness, he figured, he should've chosen a place, which wasn't as close to one of the main-roads as the gas-station was.
Footfalls – heavy and loud – were heard, and then the bell at the door rang.
Bobby's fingers tightened around the colt, next to his face on the floor. Ever so slowly, he cocked the gun – so not to make any loud noise. His lips formed into a tight line, and he cursed to himself, when the soft click was clearly heard.
"Bobby.", a girl's voice echoed through the room.
When he looked up, he saw a mop of red hair dangling down above the counter, and a happily smiling Charlie beamed down at him. "We've been looking for you."
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
… Sam's in the dungeon … Dad's possessed … play dead mouse
… play dead mouse
… play dead mouse
… because Dad's possessed … no one's home right now …
This time, when Dean woke up, his mind felt a lot clearer. His thoughts not as mixed and torn up into pieces as it had been the last time.
… play dead mouse
Dean played dead mouse. He was the most awesome dead-mouse-player ever.
The heavy hand was still – or yet again – resting on his, atop of the covers.
… play dead mouse … don't give away that you're on full-power
It had been important to Castiel, so it had to be important to Dean too.
So, he kept on playing, and he kept on thinking, putting the pieces of his puzzled thoughts together – slowly.
… don't give away that you're on full-power … whatever that was supposed to mean. – Then again. Dean Winchester was all charged up. Why and how this was possible, he wasn't sure yet. After all he could clearly remember, that Sam had gone death-star, and that it had cost him most of his juice, to not get grilled in the process. And after that, he had a short refill from the vials he's gotten from Cesar – which wouldn't reach out to feel like he felt right now.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Castiel was busy in the kitchen, back turned towards the entrance, when John Winchester entered.
"I know that you know, you know?", his voice broke the silence, like thunder the silence before the storm.
Castiel stilled. He straightened up.
"Since you are not John. – Who are you?", he asked calmly and turned around to face the abomination.
"Asmodeus. In the blood. - Angel without a cause.", John answered with a dark grin, his eyes of a morbid yellow.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Bobby was in the backseat of Cesar's truck. Charlie holding two bottles of water, handing one of them to the old man as soon as he had emptied the one he was clutching to.
He gave the girl a grateful smile. "We need to get there, before shit hits the fan."
Cesar floored the accelerator some more.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
The angel without a cause hadn't gone down easy. He's fought like a warrior. Had even landed a few punches, before Asmodeus had gotten sick of him, and had thrown him into a wall.
For the first time, Castiel was unhappy with his choice to walk the earth as a human, without using grace and everything else that had made him an angel for eons.
He had sliced himself loose from it, like cutting a threat.
There was no way rebuilding the connection to his abandoned powers, which lay deeply buried somewhere deep down.
When he came to himself, he was bound, chained to a wall in a standing position, in the bunker's dungeon.
There was an angry cut on his cheek, and blood dripping from his lower lip, as he had bit his tongue when hitting the wall.
Castiel looked around the room, blinked, looked some more.
Asmodeus was not there – had left him in the dark – obviously certain, that Castiel wouldn't be able to free himself due to the lack of grace.
Which, may was a logic thing to assume.
Though, underestimating an ex-angel, soldier of the lord, was never a wise thing to do.
Even though, Castiel may was no angel anymore, he still was a soldier. Well trained. Still dangerous (as fuck, Dean would may add) – Even if it didn't look like that ever since he's dedicated himself to relish humanity and all it's delicious treats. Like Marihuana (only for example).
He got, what he had been aiming for: Getting to know WHO and WHAT they were up against. Admittance to the dungeon – to SAM.
Castiel straightened up, tested his bindings. He flexed his aching muscles – especially the ones in his neck, since he's been in an awkward position for who knew how long.
He pressed his lips tight together and moved his tongue visibly from one cheek to the another, until the tip of a small piece of metal peaked out from in between his lips …
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Dean waited patiently – unmoved – until the hand disappeared, until the rustling of clothes was heard, until his father's boots made that unique sound when they hit ground, until the infirmary's door creaked open and slid into the lock.
Then there was the faint clattering of metal against metal. The sound of a key being shoved into a lock, and the click, when it snapped shut.
Dean's eyes flew open. High awake and alert.
He threw the covers off of him and gritted his teeth, swallowing a groan, when he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. The air was cool against his heated skin, as he was only dressed in boxers.
He looked down on himself, spotting the bandage on his side, covering the gashes, the hound had left behind before it had gotten ripped off of him.
Dean tugged at the edge of the bandage and then ripped it off in one fast go. He suppressed a yelp at the tearing sensation of tiny hairs being torn out.
The wounds were nearly healed, about 24 hours away from becoming scars, and another 24 hours from where there wouldn't be left a mark behind.
Dean took a deep breath and pushed it out of his lungs, steeling himself. He gripped the edge of the mattress tight with both hands.
He took another deep inhale, before he pushed himself to his feet. A surprised "huh" fell from his lips, when he swayed, one hand still on the mattress for support – to catch himself in case his knees would go weak.
Dean spotted neatly folded clothes on the other bed. A smirk formed on his lips. Cas had hopefully thought about weapons too …
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
They decided against parking the Pick Up in the garage, nor in front of the bunker. Neither did they decide to enter the bunker through the garage or the main-entrance.
They chose to path their way through the woods surrounding the bunker, and go in over the ventilation system. Hopefully, the demon wouldn't know they were coming.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Castiel held a hair-pin (with a unicorn glued to its end) in his already freed hand, and was working on the other one.
"Sam?", he asked, keeping his voice low. He's heard movement somewhere to his left. He's heard a soft noise. Something that led on, that he wasn't alone.
Which he was glad about, because it meant, that Sam was not dead – yet. It meant, John-Thing had truly locked him away, and had not killed him (as Castiel had originally assumed).
Once he was freed, he tugged the hair-pin (with a unicorn glued to its end), into the pocket of his harem-pants.
"Sam?", he whispered into the darkness to his left.
No answer. No rustling of clothes. No noises. Nothing.
"Samuel? Are you there?", he asked again.
Castiel let the bottoms of his boots slide along the concrete, when he took careful small steps towards where he thought he heard the promising sounds earlier.
Tentatively, he made his way into the darkness. At some point, he decided it would be more advantageous to squat down and use his hands instead of feet to feel for something – someone.
He eventually brushed along something soft with the tips of his fingers.
"Sam?", he asked again, fingers groping along and through soft strands of what he supposed was hair.
Castiel kneeled down, tentative hands feeling around the mop of long hair, until they found something solid. He searched some more, until he found what was supposedly someone's neck. Exhaling a breath of relief, when he found a soft and steady pulse against his fingertips, he sat back on his haunches.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Charlie hung from the ventilation-system's opening and let go from the edge, making contact with the tiled floor of the library a couple of feet beneath her.
The others followed her example short after.
Charlie drew her revolver, holding it with both hands, lowered to the ground.
Bobby cocked the colt.
Cesar and Jesse held their riffles ready.
Like a professional tag-team, they made their way into the map's room. Precise – soundless – steps. Covering each other's backs.
Eyes like the ones of hawks, ears like foxes, assessing everything – high alert, in search for their prey.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Dean fastened the holster around his hip.
His Taurus was hidden under the mattress of the bed, on which his clothes had been prepared for him.
The demon-killing-knife was tugged into his boots, hidden with balled up socks. – Practically in plain sight.
Castiel putting together Dean's gear meant, that his friend was certain. Like 99% certain, that his dad was not his dad at the moment.
As much as the thought ached him, he needed to take it into consideration.
What bothered him more was, that no common demon was able to enter the bunker. With or without host. Which meant they probably had no low-level-bitch to deal with.
Dean thought for a moment, considering to check out the Impala, if the lance would still be there … The Impala could be in the garage. Or maybe outside the bunker.
The lance could be in the Impala. Or stored in the room with their arsenal. Or anywhere else in the bunker, since he hadn't been around to give it a proper place.
… Sam's in the dungeon … Dean shoved the thought into the back of his mind. First take out the threat – then save the hostage.
But Sam wasn't only a hostage. He was no civilian.
Sam was a hunter. He was even more than that. He was a damn demon-hunter, and he knew exactly how and what he was doing. He's probably hunted down and killed more of them in the past couple of years, as he and his pack altogether in their lifetime.
Dean steeled himself, when he walked up to the door and tested the knob. So, he hadn't been mistaken when he heard, it being locked.
It didn't take more than medical forceps and a broken scalpel for the Winchester to pick it…
"Dungeon it is.", he whispered to himself, as he opened the door silently, blue sparks lighting up in his green irises.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Castiel shrugged off his shirt and folded it sloppily into a roll-like something. He then searched for the man's head in the darkness. Once he found what he was looking for, he lifted Sam's head enough to get the makeshift pillow in between the floor and him.
He then scooted over, fingertips flaying tentatively over Sam's form, assessing the position he lay in and if there was any suspicious dampness which may would have led on, that he was hurt.
"I had hoped, that you will be able to help us escape, Samuel.", Castiel said with a bitter undertone. Then went to undo the cuffs fastened to Sam's wrists with the hair-pin.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
Dean snuck around the corner, aiming for the dungeon, but when he was about to pass the kitchen, he heard the clutter of dishes and a curse.
Dean froze, hand on his gun, drawing it slowly.
"I know that you're out there, Dean.", John's voice rose like a swiftly narrowing stampede towards him. "Why don't you join your daddy?"
Dean flipped the safety off and drew the weapon. He walked through the threshold and made a step into the kitchen, aiming at John's back.
"You won't need this.", John said, rose his hand so Dean could see it, and snapped with his fingers.
The very moment, Dean's Taurus started to warm up and turned hot within seconds, so that it became unbearable to hold onto it anymore.
The gun slid from the watcher-angel's grip and landed on the floor too his feet.
John turned on his heels and gave his son a dirty smirk. With the next blink of his eyelids, the man's eyes turned yellow, snake-like irises in their middle.
Dean made a step towards the demon. "Leonardo's dead. So, which one are you? Donatello, Raphael or Michelangelo?"
Asmodeus chuckled amused, pointing at Dean. "It's a shame that I've to kill you." He shrugged. "Can't let a potential threat alive now, can I? – Besides … You've killed Dagon …" He scrunched his nose up and shook his head in dismay. "I cannot allow you gettin' away with such a misdeed against my kin."
Dean may should've gone to find the lance first … At least he'd have a bit of leverage with it.
Asmodeus strode towards the counter and opened one of the drawers, and pulled a kitchen-knife from it.
Dean's eyes narrowed. – He wouldn't go down without a fight. Not ever.
So, he did, what he thought was the right thing to do in this dead-end-situation. Going down in a blaze of glory.
With the yell of a warrior, he threw himself at the demon, his knife in hand, but found himself flung into the wall and pinned there midair.
Asmodeus laughed out loud. "Are you insane, son?", he asked mockingly. He bit his lower lip, giving Dean a longing once-over.
"Freeze!", Charlie yelled, as she stormed into the room, followed by her companions.
Asmodeus swallowed a laugh. "Wow. – I'm impressed.", he said – but didn't mean it. "Bobby! Buddy. – How are you doin'?"
Bobby cocked an eyebrow at the man, who was so not John.
"Well, well … Family reunion it is." Asmodeus smacked his lips, toying with the knife in his hand. "Meet you all in hell."
And with that, Asmodeus rose the knife and set it to his host's throat and barely nicked the skin, when a single shot rang out.
The smell and taste of gunpowder filled the room. A bullet whirred through the air. Asmodeus dropped the knife, when an agonized yell ripped from his throat and he clutched his thigh.
"There are not a lot of weapons that can actually hurt a Yellow Eyed Bitch like you.", Bobby said calmly, stepping up beside Charlie and cocked the gun once more, aiming it at John Winchester's head. "There are two options: Option one: I'll shoot you in the head. And you die. Right here. Right now. Option two: You haul ass, dumb wad."
The demon made up its decision pretty fast, when it smoked out of its host, a thick black-yellow cloud worming its way out of John's mouth, and disappeared through the ventilation system.
Dean thumped to the floor, catching himself, so not to faceplant on the tiles
"Charlie, Jesse, - Go find out why the warding failed.", Dean ordered as soon as he was back on his feet.
Both nodded, turned on their heels and were out of the kitchen in an instant.
Dean hurried towards his father on the floor, which lay there panting, gasping for air. "Dad. – You okay?", he asked, catching his father's gaze.
Huge horrified eyes stared up at him. "Dungeon.", John gasped. "Go. – They're in the dungeon."
Dean gave him a curt nod.
"Cesar?", he asked.
"I'll take care of John.", he said and took Dean's place beside the man, instantly beginning to examine the bullet-wound.
Bobby followed Dean towards the dungeon.
As soon as they reached it, Dean didn't hesitate to take two precise shots at the lock, before he kicked it in, Bobby hot on his heels, already searching for the light-switch, before Dean was even thinking about it. The watcher-angel aimed straight for the shelves and shoved them apart.
Nearly the same moment, the lights flickered on.
Metal screeched along concrete.
Bobby brushed past the younger Winchester and stopped dead in his tracks only a few feet into the room. "Sam.", Bobby breathed relieved … and though like he's been put through a wringer.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~