Dean approached the library that afternoon after Sam and Cas had left. He gazed across the length of the table, which was adorned with a huge array of books. There were a few things on his mind that he wanted to look into, but the pure amount of books, papers, and notes scattered around took his attention. He ran a hand across open pages as he passed, realizing a lot of them were ancient techniques for removing various curses, biblical decipherings and differentiating translations opened to Genesis, and… wow. Just a lot of topics that could only be related to each other if Cas had been trying to figure out something about the Mark of Cain. He must have been working non-stop on it since Dean and Sam had left the bunker a while ago. There looked to have been some effort to organize things, but there was too much to clean up if Cas had had his mind on multiple different things at once. Most of the very, very neat handwriting was done in another language that Dean couldn't even recognize, let alone read- and Google Translate wasn't able to help, either. Only one thing was discernible from the remnants of a determined angel- most of it had led to a dead end so far. He wasn't sure what he'd expected.
Dean only disturbed a couple of books as he rifled through information about angels. The Men of Letters hadn't been in many encounters with God's messengers, but they were extremely interested in what little they'd been able to find in the lore. Eventually, he found a foreign language verse that was familiar. He read it over to himself many times that night, muttering Latin words that felt strangely powerful on his lips.
Sam pulled the binoculars away from his face, having already swept his gaze along the scene of the playground from where he and Cas sat in the car, in front of a forgotten house a ways down the road. He couldn't help frowning. "That's the stairway to Heaven?"
"It's not a stairway," the angel corrected impatiently. He didn't understand why everyone immediately consented to using Dean's terminology. "The sandbox acts as a portal, and activates with the presence of angels."
He brought the binoculars up again. There was one woman reading a book on a park bench; but beyond that, nothing moved. "Why a sandbox, of all-?"
"Sam."
His, "Sorry," came quickly. "I'm just not seeing any barriers. Why can't you run up to it?"
"If I was to rush in alone, they would surely stop me, or at least be close behind and alert others. And unfortunately, we don't have much leniency for time in the first place."
"So we can't chat, and I'm not supposed to hurt anyone. Were you thinking of a distraction?"
Cas sighed and clasped his hands. "I guess, if you have a good idea for it."
"Not really," Sam admitted, his mouth tightening into a line. But he knew they needed to find a solution to the Mark, and fast; it was the only thing on his mind. There was one angel on guard. One wingless angel. Even if the distraction didn't go well for him, how terrible could it get? "Okay, y'know what? We're doing this now. Get as close as you can without risking anything and wait for my signal."
"What's your signal?"
He tossed the binoculars into the backseat and grabbed a knife, just in case. "You'll know it when you see it."
And that's how Cas came to be standing by the edge of the woods, still oddly close to the car, while Sam took a long route around and walked towards the park from the opposite way they'd parked the car. The woman glanced up from her book and folded her hands neatly in her lap, giving off the smug sense that she had nothing to be worried of. "Sam Winchester. Do you need something?"
"Sort of…" Sometimes he wished he was able to whip stories out of his ass as good as Dean. "There's, um, this angel I'm looking for, and I figured you'd've seen him last. But-"
She stood up, still polite, as if on the verge of smiling. "Angels are none of your business. You should leave."
"Yeah- um, I'm not going anywhere," he promised, letting a blade drop into his hand. Though, it was partially a lie. He was more prepared to start running in the opposite direction than fight, considering the whole not-killing part.
The angel bit her lip as a multitude of others materialized, some from the outskirts of the park, others from the brink of the trees. There had to be at least a dozen angels, maybe more. None of them were looking very happy to see a Winchester snooping around their holy grounds. Sam could already tell this was going to be a bitch of a scenario to get out of, and he kicked himself as a few more angels followed their siblings' leads. There was that whole invisible-soldiers thing he'd forgotten about. A warning from Cas might have been nice, too, but he was already trapped in their proximity, and there was no going back now. Each of the angels displayed their own weapons- and then the distraction really got going as Sam tore off in the direction of the trees. He could only hope he was able to outrun them, since now they were probably still adjusting to moving without their wings. The distraction required all the angels to be chasing him, if it was going to work properly… but the idea of that many angels behind him, just waiting for the glorious moment where they could wring his neck, wasn't exactly pleasant.
This kind of forest was fairly easy to get through. Its trees were skinny and spread out, and most bushes were weak enough to push past. And yet, unsurprisingly, he was having major second thoughts at about thirty seconds in. The angels weren't getting scraped up and worn down quite like he was, and it was already showing. Their footfalls became ever so slightly louder with each second.
He wasn't sure how he tugged out his phone, but there came Dean's voice against his ear as he came face-to-face with some kind of branch and sputtered his way by. "Sam? What's going on?" His brother was instinctively tuned in for a code-red. It was pretty relieving, though the high pitch of his voice threw Sam off for a split second.
"Hey- uh-" he tried to catch his breath, "Do you know any way to get rid of angels- besides- uh- the sigil?"
"What?"
Dean sounded more unimpressed than confused, so he took that to mean his words didn't sound like a garbled mess of heavy breathing. "Quickly, maybe?"
"Sure, yeah." His voice became distant. "I've got the exorcism somewhere."
Sam was tempted to shout "perfect!", but the less the angels were clued in on, the better. Another thin branch whizzed past, only managing to avoid his eye by a slight margarine. He continued to zig-zag among the trees. The sounds of less clunky, more poised footfalls grew louder, and Sam guessed there might be only a few meagre yards left between him and some of the more eager angels. One overgrown root, and it'd be safe to say he was done for.
"'Kay." Dean had returned. "Should I say it?"
Like slamming into a wall, Sam's feet stopped dead and he pitched forward, though his torso seemed unable to move, too. The feeling of falling forward but being magically held upright led to instant vertigo. He still had the phone gripped firmly in his right hand, but Sam was struggling to move in any noticeable way. It was as if he was restrained at all angles, but he hated how awfully prone he was- his arms dangling uselessly in the act of catching himself, his back turned away from the approaching hoard. He knew one of the angels must have managed to nip him with their telekinesis. Only the sounds of their footsteps allowed Sam to get a picture of when he was about to get stabbed. They'd all slowed down, probably making themselves look more dignified again. He groaned at the idea of sitting through a couple angel monologues for his last minutes on Earth.
And that was when the phone, which he'd put on speaker only a second before getting frozen, blasted Dean's voice. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then. Omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco…"
Instantly, the footsteps stopped, and the force holding his muscles back weakened.
"... potestatem invoco, abrogo terra, hoc angelorum in obse quentum, Domine expuere…"
The telekinetic force subsided entirely, and he turned around to face the two dozen- or more- angels while they began to glow. As Dean finished the exorcism, he had to shield his eyes from the way they all flashed out of their meatsuits, on a speedy return trip to Heaven. Nobody had been killed, just like Cas wanted… and on the other hand, those angels had been sent up to where Cas was supposed to be performing a jailbreak, and he didn't know how helpful this would be.
"Sam? Sam?"
"I'm here." He knew his brother was bound to have a million questions. There was a fugitive angel who'd be popping out with Cas any minute now, and a growing group of former vessels who were waking up. He didn't have the energy to make up more stories, even though Dean might go full brotherly-mode in the meantime. "Thanks for the save. When'd you find an angel exorcism, anyway?"
Dean hesitated on the other end. "I got reminded of it at the hospital. Well, I never heard it, but you told me about Alastair using it. Turns out the Men of Letters had some shaky files. There were a few really old recordings-"
"You've done all this since we left?" He distanced himself from the victims of angel possession and gave them the universal sign to let him have a moment. One more minute was all he needed to keep Dean off-track and get back to making Metatron spit out what his "river shall send at the source" speech meant.
"I was bored."
Sam sighed. "I thought I told you to drop this kind of stuff, take a break. Especially after your stupid concussion."
"You're lucky I didn't then, Hannibal. I mean, seriously? How do you get dragged into so much trouble that you've got angels on your ass while hunting a wendigo?"
There it was; the question he'd been hoping to avoid. Sam closed his eyes and wondered why it was impossible for one thing to go right on this Mark-curing goosechase. "I dunno. Look, I'll call you later, they left vessels behind."
"Right." Dean didn't make it sound sarcastic, but Sam was left feeling unsure of himself as they hung up. The group of people was packed more tightly together, watching him as though he was the answer to their lives getting uprooted. But, there was one bonus- it seemed like everyone had survived, which was an uncommon sight after an exorcism. It might have had something to do with angels regenerating vessels rather than simply holding them together, but he really didn't care. Sam was just glad to see something unexpectedly good for the first time in a long time.
OOO
Cas watched from the edge of the forest as Sam hesitated, with a gaze that darted between the incredible number of angels that'd been sent to guard the area. If they weren't looking out for the wellbeings of humans on Earth, he supposed it made sense that there were a few extras to spare here. All it took was someone like him to jump through the portal and bring back one of the most sinful angels he could imagine. He really hated the idea of giving Metatron any semblance of freedom- but they didn't have a choice. Dean needed to be brought back to normal in more ways than one. And, secretly, he liked the idea of getting answers out of Metatron after the angel had vowed to never give them any useful information again. With time… Dean would have to understand.
As the angels drew closer to Sam, the Winchester finally summoned enough courage to dash out of there with a small but lengthy, "Fuck!" as he skidded on dirt and pulled himself into the cover of trees, soon to be followed by everyone else. That seemed like as good a signal as any. With one last sweep to make sure no other angel was watching the portal, Cas made a break for it.
Heaven was pretty quiet when Cas entered. He still wasn't very accustomed to traversing the halls in order to get anywhere, but it was his home, and what a human might call a 'instinctual feeling' led him very quickly to the cells. They were very rarely used, and visited almost just as frequently. Only a select few angels had been imprisoned there, and it was known that an angel could never escape the area on their own. But strange things had developed over the past few years, and Cas nearly barreled into one of his brothers who was guarding the door.
The angel tensed, already holding a spear tipped with the same material of Cas' angel blade. They stood just a few apart. He anticipated the need to sidestep the spear and use it to send the angel off-balance, but an attack never came. His brother's face clouded in recognition and fear as he spoke softly. "Castiel."
"Ansiel," he returned. It had been a while since an angel hadn't jumped on the chance to kill him. Cas couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the worry that quite obviously plagued the angel, and if there were many more of his brethren who were also… scared. Of him. He didn't like that idea. The blade felt cold in his grasp again, and he pulled it away. "They have someone guarding the jail cells, now?"
"Yes. I presume this is why." Ansiel's words came out in Enochian, and hesitantly, too, even while the angel kept a rigid stance- as if Cas was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
Cas sighed. "I have to get through that door. It'd be better for the both of us if you aren't here when I leave Heaven."
"I have orders."
"I know," he said, recalling how tempting it always was to just listen to an order, though the order might be dangerous to yourself or others. It would always be easiest to skip the contemplation part. "But I have to ask this nonetheless."
He could see the confliction on Ansiel's face, and finally decided to throw his hands up and shuffle to the side. "Go to the gateway," he motioned with his head, "And say you heard something. I'm sure there will be commotion there soon, and no one will be any the wiser." It would've been considered treasonous to let Cas or Metatron by.
Ansiel didn't appear to consider why Cas would need to speak to Metatron in the first place; all he did, after a hefty moment, was follow Cas' directions. But Cas didn't have the time to dwell on why some angels weren't able to shake their conditioning; he was simply glad he didn't have to see the angelic light drain out of another one of his brother's faces. Most of his siblings were still largely innocent. That is, except for the one that sat behind Heavenly bars.
As he entered the room, he grabbed the ring of keys from its hook on the wall. There was only one cell worth approaching, and he tried to keep his eyes on the lock, instead of the despicable little smirk from a few feet away.
OOO
Sam was running up from the direction of the road as Castiel appeared from the portal, with Metatron in tow. There were Enochian-ingrained handcuffs secured around his wrists, just to be on the safe side. They had passed Ansiel again on the way out, and while Metatron had made some stupid comment, Ansiel had just nodded while locking eyes with Cas; "angel radio" was swarming with demands that the portal be looked into, and he was giving them once last chance to get out before the others caught up. He muttered his thanks. Sam produced a gun at the edge of the playground, and Metatron- whose grace had been drained as soon as Cas unlocked the cell- was more than happy to follow their lead towards the car when he saw it.
Dean was his usual height, and had his usual strength back- but for some reason, he felt powerless while Cas and Sam tugged him backwards, deeper into the dungeon's dark abyss, where he knew a devil's trap was painted on the ground even before it drew his gaze downwards. He whirled around with a strange sort of rage in his heart, and without anything short of an insane scream, he demanded they let him out. They watched him, confused, worried, contemptuous.
They didn't trust him.
They didn't want him around.
They didn't understand what it was like.
What it was like, to have this thing on your arm. If the devil's trap wasn't restraining him yet, it would be soon. They wouldn't let him hunt. They wouldn't let him do anything. He could already taste the blood rising up from his lungs before they had closed the door to the dungeon.
He didn't want to be stuck here, in silence, in darkness, alone. He didn't want to feel those demonic powers coursing through his veins again. He didn't want to be stuck in a little devil's trap forever, left to rot like the monster he was destined to become.
But he couldn't move. No matter what he did, he couldn't move.
A/N:
Hey! I hope everyone's doing alright during the Christmas season. It's great to see people still reading and commenting. ^-^
If you're wondering what I plan to post next week, or when something else is getting updated, I'll now be keeping a rough schedule on my profile!
