Chapter Thirteen
Countdown
Thursday December 17, 2009
(18:30)
Dean tried to avoid looking at the blazing sunset in front of him as he drove. It seemed to mock him with each ray of light that melted into darkness. Something sinister hung in the air, and he couldn't put his finger on it. The soft flutter of snow didn't help his morose mood.
"Are we doing the right thing?"
Sam's voice was soft, and Dean almost didn't hear his brother. Bobby hummed from the backseat, and Dean didn't have to look to know Rowen was thinking about his brother's question.
"We're about to help beat the crap outta the Devil. I think that constitutes the 'right' thing."
"Dean, you know-" Sam sighed and shook his head looking out the window, "Nevermind."
Dean frowned at his brother's tone, but let it slide. They were doing the right thing. They wouldn't leave Castiel to face Lucifer with an archangel they barely knew and her pet demon. No way in Hell.
(19:00)
Castiel watched passively as his sister dug through a trunk of items. Crowley wasn't around, and he thanked Father for it. With a small 'aha!' Azrial sat up pulling out two angel blades.
"I knew I had extras lying around. They'd made their way onto the black market a few years back. Here, you should really have a spare."
Castiel took the blade after several seconds, but had nowhere to put it. Azrial reached back down and pulled out a belt with two holders on it.
"This should be big enough for you, if not I'll rig something. Make sure your shirt is covering them."
"Of course."
He took the leather belt as his sister turned back to digging through the trunk. With each happy exclamation or curious comment the guilt he felt faded. Crowley was a demon, and as soon as a better opportunity came along he'd turn on Azrial without a thought. She had been family, and as the Winchesters and Bobby taught him, real family stuck together. When Crowley finally betrayed them Castiel would be there to help his sister and put an end to the demonic nuisance.
(19:30)
Crowley ignored Castiel's distrustful gaze, who was looking every bit a flannel covered nightmare, in favor of watching Azrial. She slipped her archangel blade into a modified gun holster that kept the blade close to her side. She grabbed her spare angel blade, slipping it into the holster on her left side. The archangel looked focused, and there was a sharp awareness in her dark blue eyes. He could almost see every calculation and possible choice play through her mind and offered, "Drink, darling?"
Her eyes turned toward him, and he swore he'd only seen her this serious once before, and that's when they'd parted ways three years ago.
"Not this time, Crowley. I'll have to take an IOU."
Azrial turned toward the small mirror and with a speed that spoke of muscle memory, her fingers started twisting her hair into a loose braid. It wouldn't hold up too much, but it kept it out of her face and out of her way. He'd never seen her do it before, but the nostalgic look that passed over Castiel's face spoke volumes.
After tonight there would be no more need to hide. Lucifer would be swept aside or running in fear. Either way, all of their plans were going to come to fruition.
He'd be cashing in on that IOU as soon as they got back.
(19:35)
Azrial stared at herself for several moments and wondered if she could really do this. When was the last time she'd seen Lucifer? It had been thousands of years. Would he attack her outright, or would he be too shocked? She shoved the questions down and caught Crowley watching her in the mirror and wished she knew what was going through his head. They were so close, and all she had to do was finish this. Disarm or kill was the name of the game. She knew it well, and she was near an expert at this point in her long life.
Then why was there a sense of dread settling in the back of her mind? As if nothing good would come out of this confrontation.
"Drink, darling?"
Crowley's voice carried his own tension though, she doubted Castiel noticed. She wondered if her brother was prepared for what was coming. She hoped he wasn't doing this out of spite or desperation, she had no desire to bury him. Azrial turned toward Crowley, "Not this time, Crowley. I'll have to take an IOU."
The heavy feeling settled in her chest, and she swore to herself they'd both make it back for that drink. She'd give the world to make sure no one died on this mission.
After all, she was a commander. The God Spear. She'd never lost troops before, and she wouldn't start now.
(19:45)
It had been hours since Sam had poised his question, and Bobby couldn't help but ponder it longer than Lord knew he should have. Were they doing the right thing, or were they just walking to their deaths against the advice of someone who knew what they were facing?
Dean wouldn't have been convinced otherwise once Castiel spilled the location of the meeting, and Bobby would burn before he let his boys go out and face Lucifer alone.
"Bobby?"
Rowen's voice was quiet, so quite he knew the boys wouldn't hear it over the music that was blaring in a vain attempt to block out the silence.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
Bobby's brow furrowed, and he muttered back, "The hell you on about?"
"I'm sorry about the fight yesterday. I'm sorry about the fight 30 years ago, and I'm sorry about having to ask you this."
Bobby stiffened. They had an unspoken agreement never to speak about that fight, and the fact Rowen was bringing it up now almost scared him.
"What?"
"If I die, tell Sue I'm sorry. When faced with an open door, I couldn't stop myself from walking through."
Bobby tried to comprehend what Rowen was saying, but nothing clicked. Especially with how sad the man sounded. It was like he'd gone against his beliefs.
"Tell her your damn self," Bobby paused and added, "As far as the fights, the one yesterday was my temper. The one 30 years ago," Bobby ran a hand over his face and whispered, "It wasn't how it should have gone but it was inevitable, Rowen. We both damn well know that."
Silence greeted his statement even as Rowen bumped his knee against his in silent understanding. Somewhere along the line, the man had been proven right. Things had stopped being black and white, and Bobby realized they were staring down a storm of grey.
(19:50)
Rowen remained silent after his words to Bobby. The list of regrets he had was short. He put that down to his faith and was grateful for never drowning in what-ifs or should-haves. Yet in the past 24 hours, two of his only regrets had crawled back into the present with a vengeance. One of them sat next to him. He never forgave himself for that fight 30 years ago, even if Bobby had forgiven him. He'd been cruel, hurtful, and had been in a horrible mental place. When all was said in done he and Bobby hadn't spoken for a year. When he finally swung by again, he'd gotten decked in the face and then offered a beer.
It was never mentioned again.
Then there was Lily.
The woman who turned out to be a reaper. The reaper who had died to save his life when he'd likely botched an exorcism. Sold her life, because it was a life no matter what a hunter may tell him, to allow him to live his own. Yet he couldn't remember a thing about her.
Did she like sunsets? Did she laugh at his corny jokes? Was she gentle or abrasive? Had she hoped to stay with him until his end? Did she love him?
He hated himself for letting those questions swirl in his head, and he pulled out his phone and began typing out a text message. Something about this situation, about the way the sunset bled rather than shone brightly, that put him on edge. It felt like a final walk, and he swore that he'd clean the slate if he made it out of this.
"Please, God," he whispered with his head hanging as he stared down at the apology on his phone, "Don't let this be in vain."
(19:55)
Sam was scared.
Not for himself, no he'd stopped fearing for his own life when he'd unleashed Lucifer on the world. He couldn't forgive himself for that and was willing to walk to his death if it meant putting the bastard down.
He feared for Dean. For Bobby and Cas. For Rowen who seemed repentant from the moment they'd gotten on the road.
He even found himself, reluctantly, fearing for Crowley and Azrial.
Lucifer was toxic. He was manipulative and cruel, and Sam didn't need Azrial to tell him that. The bastard was in his dreams enough to pick up on those facts. Come hell or high water Sam swore he'd see the end of Lucifer.
"Looks like we're here."
Dean's voice was heavy, and Sam stared out the window at the disturbingly empty town. It shouldn't be this quiet, or this empty.
"Well, let's suit up."
Sam tried to sound hopeful, really he did, but it came out wary.
They'd all walk away from this. They had to. All he could do was have faith.
(20:00)
Bright eyes stared down at the deep hole, and cracked lips curled cruelly as a dark voice sang, "It's showtime, everyone."
