"Brother," Uriel said, "you called for me?"
Lucifer was sitting upon a decked-out chair he'd announced as his throne, and seeming quite bored. His vessel, the paltry thing that it was, was burning to pieces around him and any human would shudder at his disfigurement. Beautiful? Surely not. Yet Uriel could see the light that shone from underneath the skin; even now it took his breath away.
"I need you to recruit someone for me," Lucifer said, glancing lazily in Uriel's direction.
Uriel's brow furrowed. He'd already decimated his garrison in Heaven, converting some angels and killing those who were intractable before being discovered; but the network he'd created was already spreading its filaments through Heaven. Angels secretly bringing angels to the cause; there was no way, now, to know how many would keep to Heaven's corrupt plan—and how many would join the right path, when the time came. Lucifer knew full well that Uriel had been cut off from Heaven. It was degrading, but Uriel had resorted to eating souls as a way to keep his grace replenished; better to eat the mud monkeys than to fall to become one of them.
"Of course," he said. "Who did you have in mind?"
"Cas-ti-el," Lucifer drawled. "You knew him. Seraph, head of your garrison, right?"
"I did," Uriel agreed. "But, brother," he spoke delicately, for Lucifer didn't like being contradicted— "he died in the incursion into Hell two years ago."
"Yeah, not so much," Lucifer said. "You know how I know?" he leaned forward, put a finger to his temple. "Angel radio. My own private frequency. I can sense every angel who fell to become a Prince of my domain, like a little tickling. And it's telling me Castiel is still alive, and on Earth. Find him, and bring him to me." He leaned back, and waved a hand. "Go on, you're dismissed; go on."
Uriel winged away, his mind buzzing. Castiel, alive? And one of the Fallen, no less.
The battle in Hell had been fragmented. The whole incursion, meant to rescue the Righteous Man, had gone pear-shaped; the last anyone had been certain, Castiel had been at the fore, but then had gotten separated from the rest of the garrison. No one had actually seen him die. Had Castiel, too, been on their side the whole time—with Uriel all unknowing? Even so, to Fall—that had not happened since just after the very first demon was made, when Lucifer had been so angered that the only way he would trust those angels that stayed with him in a losing battle was to bind them to his eternal servitude and sever them from the Host of Heaven forever.
And yet Lucifer acted as though he hadn't been a party to this Fall; as though he'd been as surprised by the fact as anyone else.
Uriel was therefore prepared for any number of things when he finally found Castiel, hiding in a warehouse. Alone—good. No one would be around to spy on their meeting.
He winged in, and when he had entered, Castiel was standing, looking toward him.
"Uriel," Castiel said.
"Cas," Uriel said, smiling. "I thought you'd died."
"Obviously not," Castiel said. "As you seemed to know just where to find me."
Uriel nodded. "The truth is, I was sent here."
Castiel looked aside. "I see," he said flatly.
"Our brother wants you to stand with us," Uriel said, stepping forward. "The bringer of dawn is tired of being punished for not bowing to humanity. I can see that you understand what that's like."
"Why," Castiel said bitterly. "Because I, too, was punished by God? Is that why I 'understand?'" He held his fingers up in air quotes to emphasize his words, then let his hands fall to his side again.
"Perhaps," Uriel said. He stopped some feet away. "It's not just those of your kind who've joined us," he said encouragingly. "Other angels have, too. Many that you would recognize from our own garrison." He stepped forward, spoke now with more force. "Come, brother, now is the time to fight side-by-side. To take our rightful place in this world and in the Apocalypse."
"We've been friends for a long time," Castiel said slowly. "Brothers in arms for centuries." He turned his head to face Uriel, then, and there was a fury and a malice in his blazing yellow eyes that Uriel didn't recall from the obedient seraph he'd once served with. "I Fell. And yet, you chose this without provocation." Castiel stepped forward. "You disgust me."
"If that's the way you feel…" Uriel said, and let his angel blade slip from his sleeve. "Then I don't think we have anything more to say to one another."
"No," Castiel said. "We don't." He attacked.
Uriel fended off the Prince of Hell easily, at first; he had a blade and the Prince had only the powers at his disposal.
Lightning flashed in the warehouse, thunder rolled at every step between them. Fire rolled down Castiel's arms and flared in his hands; Uriel winged away and reappeared behind Castiel, aiming for the Prince's back, but Castiel, sensing his presence, winged away and reappeared some steps from Uriel. The air was charged with static, and outside the warehouse, a piercing rain began to fall.
White light filled the room, casting their shadows into small black pools at their feet.
Uriel held out a hand, throwing Castiel across the space, and the Prince landed heavily; but before Uriel could take advantage, Castiel had held up his own hand and did the same to Uriel.
Climbing to their feet, they circled each other again.
A wind was rising, shrieking its way through the broken windows. Uriel darted in close and managed a punch to Castiel's jaw, red blood running over the Prince's cheek at the force; Castiel raised a burning hand and grappled with the knife that Uriel stabbed toward him after the punch in quick succession.
But Uriel's aim was true.
The angel blade went through the Prince's belly with a wet, slick sound, and with a gasp, Castiel swayed, falling to his knees. The fire on his hands went out; he brought them to the hilt of the knife.
Uriel stepped back and smiled.
But—wait. No bright light of an angelic explosion was building; nor was there the deep, fiery flicker of a dying demon. Instead, Castiel pulled the knife out of himself, spun the blade in his hand, and in the same fluid movement had stabbed upward into Uriel's own body.
Uriel fell with a gasp to the floor. In the seconds before being unmade, he looked up into Castiel's pitiless, shining gaze.
/
"Did I ever tell you about what it was like?" Dean said. "Before I died. My life, I mean."
"No," Cas said. He smiled, a fractured thing, in Dean's direction. "We don't tend to talk much."
Dean leaned back. Against the headboard, his naked body cooled; scratches, raised and red, traveled across his chest; his hips—full, womanly—marked with bruises. Some yellowed, some purpling and new. The handprint brand had followed him even into this new body; it was a deep thing, a soul-thing; and the flesh there was shiny and inflamed.
"We should," Dean said.
His eyes slipped to the ceiling. On the plaster, an old water-stain had darkened the corner.
"I checked up on Sam, you know," Dean said. "I wanted to see—what had happened to him. He's still alive."
"That doesn't surprise me," Cas said. "Seeing as Michael and Lucifer aren't yet ravaging the Earth."
"Doesn't it, you dick?" Dean said bitterly. "You told me—made me think he was possessed. That the devil had him. You lied."
"Yes," Cas said. "I lied. It served its purpose, didn't it?"
Dean glanced over at Cas. In the half-light from the window, those yellow eyes were cold as bile.
"I guess it did," Dean said. He looked away.
"See," Cas said, crawling up beside him; he pressed kisses across Dean's neck, lingering on his branded shoulder for a moment where Cas breathed out warm, slow breath against the injury; pressed his tongue to it and swirled, as though savoring the salt-sweat on his skin; "this is why we shouldn't talk."
He was right.
I think, Dean didn't say, that I could've loved you, if things had been different.
He pressed a soft, uncalloused hand to Cas's neck; felt the tendon there, and didn't rip it from him.
I think, Dean didn't say, that I ruined the world; that it was me, and not Sammy at all.
He leaned forward, a slow, leisurely press against Cas' waking cock, his breasts hanging full. He pressed against the demon's unblemished chest, that borrowed skin, and felt the soft friction between their bodies, rising and falling.
I think, Dean didn't say, that I left myself behind in the Pit; the me who could feel something for you. And I think, if that's true, you're down there too—
A blue-eyed angel, a storm in the dark.
/
Skirmishes were turning to battles were turning to war. Pestilence and Famine had been taken out of the game by Sam and Anna before Bela had even fought her way out of Hell, but it would all be for nothing if they didn't know a way to stop Lucifer.
Every throw Bela made, kneeling on the floor in Bobby's house and flickering, trying to keep enough form to move even one astragalos, let alone four, landed the same. Snake eyes. Snake eyes. Snake eyes.
"Maybe you should stop doing that," Tessa advised, appearing beside her. "I don't think you're gonna get a different answer."
Bela leaned back and sighed, her gaze slipping away from the knucklebones' ominous warning. "There has to be something. Some clue we're missing. How's the search for Death?"
"Found him," Tessa said. "Chicago. Actually, he said he wanted to speak with you."
"Me?" Bela raised an eyebrow. "Really, what for?"
"He wouldn't say," Tessa said with a shrug. "But he did say he's been paying attention and, though he has no opinion on the Apocalypse one way or another, he's pretty pissed Lucifer has him on a leash."
Another horseman out of the picture, maybe; if they could get the ring off. Bela stood. "All right," she said. "Lead the way."
They flickered out of existence and back in again, standing outside a pizza shop. Through the windows, Bela could see that there was only one thing breathing inside, amid slumped-over bodies seated at tables. She stepped through the glass, and as she did, the bell on the door rang, as though a wind had shaken it.
Death looked up. "Ah," he said. "Bela. It's good to see you. I'd ask you to eat with me if you were alive; the pizza here is delicious."
"What's the idea?" Bela said, eyeing the ring on Death's hand. She wished she'd been able to bring her angel blade with her; it had been too heavy to carry with her from Hell but it would sure be useful now.
Death noticed her looking.
"I think my reaper explained the details," he said.
"So you're just gonna give it to me?" Bela asked.
"I'll do one better," Death said. "I'll give you something else, too. That 'one clue' you were looking for?" He took off his ring, held it in his palm. "The rings that belong to the horsemen will draw together if you have all four. Throw them anywhere and recite these words: Bvtmon, Tabges, Babalon. The door to the Cage will open, and if the devil jumps inside, it will close again behind him, locking him in."
"And the devil will want to jump in, why?" Bela asked.
"He won't want to. But I hear he's been looking for his vessel. Sam Winchester. Perhaps, if the boy said yes, he'd be able to wrestle control for the instant you need."
Death put the ring in Bela's hand, and even as a spirit who felt no hunger or cold, the weight of the ring seemed to shiver along her limbs. It was heavy, and her fingers flickered and fritzed with the effort of keeping it aloft.
"I need a promise," Death said. "That you will do everything in your power to make that happen."
"Then I want a promise too," Bela said.
Death leaned back, a slightly amused expression on his face. "Bargaining?"
"I fought my way out of Hell," Bela said. "If I do this, I'll be saving the world. I want you to get me into Heaven."
"I could do that," Death said. He tapped his fingers on the table contemplatively. "Of course it's just like a human, to have such an inflated sense of her own importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well…. Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Bela. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."
"Insignificant," Bela said. "But you still need me."
Death considered her for a long moment. "And if I don't make you that promise," he said. "What would you choose to do?" He looked, meaningfully, toward the ring, and then at her.
Bela was fucking tired of being self-sacrificial. But she had no other play here; nothing else to leverage for her salvation. Could she really bluff the whole world on her own soul? And if Death called that bluff—what, then?
Could she destroy it?
.
.
.
Notes:
1) The idea of Uriel eating souls to make up for being cut off from heaven is taken from the grigori in 10.20, "Angel Heart" where it's shown that the watcher angels, thought to have gone extinct ages ago have been existing under the radar by eating souls.
2) It's my theory that the yellow eyed demon was a prince of hell & that he, along with the other princes of hell, were fallen angels.
For one thing, Lucifer contacts two separate princes through what seems to be a variant on angel radio (Azazel in the flashback section of 4.22 "Lucifer Rising" and Dagon in 12.17 "The British Invasion" & 12.19 "The Future") while he does not ever communicate that way to other demons. The only other person he contacts in a similar [but not exactly the same] manner is Sam, but as Cas explains in 5.03 "Free to Be You and Me", "There's, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial" — which implies that's actually a different method of communication.)
The princes of hell have the powers of possession like demons do, but their super strength is basically at angel levels. Asmodeus could kill demons by choking them like Darth Vader, similar to the angels being able to smite demons & Dagon could kill angels; Ramiel proved to be immune to angel and demon killing blades (& it's implied that the only things that can kill a prince of hell are the colt, the first blade, the lance of michael or death's scythe); Azazel, when he brought back Sam in exchange for the colt, was shown to be able to resurrect the dead without taking a soul in the deal, unlike any other demon but similar to angels who can resurrect the dead. Azazel was also shown to have the powers of dream walking which only angels were otherwise shown to be able to do; and when he showed up to the children's nurseries the scope of the weirdness that happened, electronics going haywire, the weather acting up, thunder and lightning, etc is very similar to how angels are portrayed—especially Cas and Anna in some of their key early scenes.
Both Asmodeus and Dagon were shown to have mind control/compulsion/hypnosis powers, unlike any other demons but like Cas was able to do to the government men in 12.08 "LOTUS". Ramiel, in 12.12 "Stuck in the Middle (With You)" is shown to be able to be trapped by holy fire but not a devil's trap. It's also interesting to note that in other lore he's named as an angel (the Bible) or fallen angel (The Book of Enoch).