Chapter Eighteen
Heaven Knows
December 23, 2009
Bobby looked up from the book he truly wasn't reading at the sound of tires coming up his driveway. That was one of the perks of a gravel road he enjoyed, and he sighed, taking a deep swig of his whiskey before standing up. Dean was in the kitchen trying to put a meal together, and Sam was off in town stocking up on supplies with Castiel. It felt longer than the measly five days that had passed since their confrontation with Lucifer. Gabriel had never come back after lecturing them, and neither had Crowley.
Bobby was quietly running under the assumption that Azrial had died.
He wouldn't say a word to Castiel about his thoughts, but it seemed likely at this point. Sam and Dean decided to stay through until at least Christmas to see if they got any news, and Bobby knew they were doing it for Castiel's sake. It was nice having the company, but it was tinged with worry. Bobby sighed and shoved the door open, smiling slightly at the sight of Ellen. The woman was practically stomping up to his porch with Jo trailing behind her with an amused smirk. It was too bad Rowen had left on the 19th, he'd have enjoyed Ellen ripping into all of them. Bobby sighed, his smile falling at the thought of the exorcist. It seemed anytime one of them left there was an argument. When would they learn?
"Glad you could make it."
It was inflammatory, and he damn well knew it, but the flash of fury in the woman's dark eyes made him chuckle. He needed a bit of amusement after everything that happened. In less then a week his world had been turned upside down, and now they were stuck in the waiting loop from hell. It seemed as good a time as any to celebrate Christmas with everyone.
"I can't believe you let those boys bench us, Singer."
The slight growl of annoyance lacked any real heat. Ellen understood, Bobby was sure, that the Winchesters couldn't stand the thought of losing anyone else. Hell, he was sure the idjits would have tried to leave him at home if they weren't sure he'd shoot them for it.
"The boys all came out unscathed, minus a few bumps and bruises. Given what happened, it's best the two of you weren't there."
Ellen sighed and Bobby turned his gaze toward Jo. "How have you been?"
The young women shrugged and grinned slightly, "Been hunting. Can't let the world ending slow us down, right?"
Ellen rolled her eyes and Bobby snorted in agreement. "Guess so. Dean's inside makin lunch."
Jo's grin became a touch predatory and she went inside to harass Dean, just as Bobby had hoped. Ellen didn't move and Bobby sighed as soon as he heard Jo teasing Dean, who of course started in with his false bravado to amuse her. The volume meant there was no way to be overheard with the screen door shut.
"Ask."
His blunt statement had the woman leaning against the porch railing eyeing him skeptically.
"They're really all okay? Even that angel that's been running with them?"
"Yeah, they're fine. Dean had a brush with Lucifer but-"
Bobby trailed off and shut his eyes in thought. How did he even begin to explain everything that had happened?
"But?"
The terse question made him hum and he gave Ellen a pacifying look, "But Azrial stopped Lucifer by taking the blow. So Dean is fine."
"Where is this elusive archangel anyway? Sam just said to come out here for the holidays. When I tried to ask what happened he said he'd tell us in person."
Ellen's curiosity caused Bobby to wince, and the woman narrowed her eyes on him. He decided to be honest with her; after all, Ellen had no connection with Azrial.
"Honestly, I think she's dead."
The blunt statement caused Ellen to stare at him for several moments before she sighed. There were several seconds of silence before she asked softly,
"And you haven't shared that thought with anyone, have you?"
Bobby huffed and looked back toward the driveway. At least he didn't have to worry about Castiel simply appearing next to him.
"No."
"Are you trying to spare Castiel, or is it something else?"
The probing question surprised him and he turned back to Ellen with a raised eyebrow.
"What else would it be?"
"Well, Dean did go on about her looks."
The teasing tone made Bobby laugh. Of course, Dean would, though he was sure that was the only complimentary thing he said.
"Did he?"
"He did follow it up with calling her a frigid bitch."
"That I believe."
A comfortable silence fell over them, and Ellen moved to stand next to him. Bobby didn't bother to look back at her and stared out at the driveway in thought. When Ellen didn't respond he added, "I'm old, not dead, Ellen."
Ellen bristled slightly at his admission, and Bobby sighed trying to soothe the woman's temper. He hadn't expected the joking comment to be taken badly.
"Azrial saved Dean's life, something I didn't see happening."
His voice sounded contemplative even to his own ears, and Bobby shut his eyes trying to ignore the piercing look Ellen was shooting him.
"And?"
"And nothin'. As I said, I'm pretty sure she died for her efforts. Even if that wasn't the case, what do you think could have been going on?"
Ellen sighed but didn't respond. Bobby was happy with their arrangement, but he knew at times the woman wanted far more than he could give. With Jo grown and the Winchesters long past the point of needing immediate supervision, Ellen had put a touch more pressure on him for something more serious then she used to. If times were different, if the world weren't ending, he may have even entertained the idea. Now wasn't the time though so he did his best to reassure her.
"Azrial and Crowley were shacking up. Lucifer decided to spill the beans, but honestly, I'd already guessed."
Ellen made a small sound in the back of her throat that sounded like she'd swallowed wrong, "An archangel and a demon?"
"Yeah. She even hopped into his meatsuit during the fight. That was," Bobby paused, opening his eyes at the sound of tires on the driveway to see the Impala coming up the road. "It was something else. I always thought Rowen was BSing me about feeling the power of supernaturals but not anymore."
"How is that even possible? Not the fucking mind you, but them sharing a vessel. Wouldn't she purify him?"
Bobby had been mulling over that very question before Ellen arrived. Best he could figure, either Azrial wasn't what she said or Crowley was more then he appeared. Given everything he'd seen, it was probably the latter. This had him combing through demonic lore trying to find the missing part of the puzzle that allowed the two beings to get up close and personal. It also begged the question if they could do it again, and would doing it in advance be tactically sound.
Assuming, of course, he was wrong and Azrial had survived.
"Sam, Castiel, it's good to see you again."
The subject dropped like it had never come up as Ellen greeted the boys. Bobby saw the mildly pleased look at Castiel's new attire as she leaned in to hug Sam. Castiel stiffened slightly as she did the same to him but gave her a gentle hug back after a moment. Ellen pulled away and smirked at them both.
"Heard you boys have quite the story to tell. Why don't we get outta the cold and get some beers?"
Sam grinned and held the door for Ellen and the two headed inside. Castiel looked back out at the setting sun, and Bobby could practically read his thoughts.
"She's probably still recovering."
It was a lie, and by the way Castiel looked at him, Bobby was sure the angel knew. Yet there was no anger, just a strange look of appreciation.
"You're probably right."
That statement felt loaded, and Bobby had a feeling it wasn't directed at what he actually said. Instead of dwelling on it, he patted Castiel's arm.
"Let's get inside. It's too damn cold out here."
Castiel nodded and they walked into the house, and Bobby smiled slightly at the laughter and conversation that had taken hold of his normally quiet house. They were all alive, and for the most part well. They may not know what's coming, but when did they ever? He was grateful for this moment.
For what it's worth, he prayed silently, doubting it would ever reach its recipient, thanks for saving them.
Line Break
Azrial woke with a start, adrenaline shooting through her body as if she'd been electrocuted. She bolted upright, and immediately regretted the movement as she practically screamed in pain. The bed seemed to move at her action, and her hands groped around thinking Crowley may have stayed with her. She almost jumped at the feeling of fur under her fingers. A soft growl met her ears as a nose pressed tightly into her hand.
"Oh."
She rasped softly sitting up fully to look at the hellhound whose large body was taking up a majority of the bed. Red eyes stared back at her, almost critically Azrail mused, and she reached out to scratch him behind the ears.
"It's been a long time, Growley. How's my favorite hellhound?"
The hound huffed but kept his head on the bed clearly enjoying the attention while Azrial wracked her brain trying to remember what happened. She was also trying to figure out what had woken her up. It was like an itch at the back of her head, and Azrial frowned trying to mull over the feeling. It felt familiar, yet somehow foreign to her all the same. As if instinctively she should know what it was but she wasn't personally aware of the phenomenon that had jolted her into awareness.
A crash in the other room made her stiffen, and she slowly pulled herself off the bed. Growley moved away but didn't seem bothered by the noise. Maybe it was just Crowley? If that were the case why hadn't he come in after hearing that she was awake? These walls were paper thin, and she was sure he would have heard her talking.
"Fuck," she cursed softly as she struggled to stand. It felt like she'd been hit by a damn truck. "What the hell happened?"
Azrial shook her head, and grabbed at a loose t-shirt that had been thrown over the chair in the corner of the room. Slipping into it was agony, and her back screamed in protest as she lifted her hands over her head. As she struggled with it her fingers brushed her chest as she pulled the fabric down and she froze at the feeling of scar tissue under her fingers. The shirt she'd worked so hard to get on was practically ripped off as she stumbled into the bathroom. Her hands fell to the sink as she braced herself against the cool porcelain and stared horrified at her reflection.
"What-?"
The question died in her throat as she stared mutely in the mirror. Her once flawless skin was marred by a huge, star-shaped, scar that seemed to dominate her chest between her breasts. It was slightly off-center, and her brain mutely added that it looked to be a heart shot, but she still couldn't manage a coherent thought about what she was seeing. Her fingers reached out to touch the mirror, and she bit her lip at the realization that it truly was her.
She needed answers.
Azrial ignored her body's protests and slipped the shirt back on again. She looked around the room frantically and her eyes came back to the chair she'd found the shirt on to see a pair of sweatpants.
She could never say Crowley didn't look out for her.
The thought was comforting as she pulled the pants on. Her legs felt heavy, and if she were honest with herself, Azrial felt weak. It scared her, and she hoped that nothing needed her immediate attention in the outside world. She wasn't sure she could face a kitten at this point, let alone a full fight. Azrial stumbled out of the bedroom, and the smell of expensive whiskey hit her like a wall. Her nose twitched, and she saw Crowley nursing a glass at the small table.
"You're finally up."
The statement was said flatly and lacked any indication of the demon's feelings. It was only years of knowing Crowley that cued her into the quiet fury that was burning under his skin. There was the slightest twitch of his fingers, like he wanted nothing more than to burn something to a crisp, and the fact was he didn't get drunk when he was in a good mood.
"Was I asleep for long?"
Azrial tried to make a joke out of it, but the whiskey glass slammed into the table with a harsh click as Crowley turned on her. His eyes were a swarm of, well she wasn't sure. Anger? Annoyance? Yet neither seemed to fit with the way his hand shook. She'd never seen that from him before.
"It's been five days."
The statement was snarled, and Azrial stared at him not knowing what to say. She walked closer to the table but didn't take the seat across from Crowley. Something in the back of her mind was saying she should recognize this behavior, but her brain was only sluggishly chugging along at this point.
"What happened? I don't remember anything past-"
The words died in her throat, as Azrial remembered the feeling of being far too close to Crowley's demonic aura. She could still recall the way it clung to her grace. It had felt like she was being devoured, but it also felt comforting. It was warm in a way she never was, and she couldn't help but compare it to sitting in the fading rays of a summer sunset. Those few moments where the warmth was coveted, and felt all the sweeter because it was so brief.
"Past what?"
The question was asked gruffly, and Azrial shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to tread carefully with him, and she simply wasn't in the right state of mind to do so.
"Past sharing your vessel."
The quiet admission hung in the air between them, and Crowley picked the glass back up, finishing his drink with a strange look. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and Azrial frowned wondering how much he'd actually drunk at this point.
"You should have let me die."
The words were hissed, and they hit Azrial like a whip. Crowley finally met her eyes and now there was no question, he was pissed.
"Pardon?"
She couldn't help the snark that crept its way into the question. Crowley stood up, setting the glass back down with an audible click. He glared at her for several seconds before responding.
"You should have let me die, Azrial. At least then," he huffed and turned away from her. "Well, I would have died with my damn dignity."
Azrial bit her lip to stop the knee jerk response to that asinine statement, and instead opted to gently ask, "Then look me in the eye and say that."
The soft prompt caused the demon to growl, and stalk toward her. Azrial didn't move an inch as she looked up at Crowley. He was in her space, not something she was averse to, but there was a heavy tension. It was like he was a moment from snapping, and she wasn't sure what that would entail. When was the last time he'd been drunk? Azrial couldn't remember, but also couldn't blame him given everything that happened. Still, she needed to know how she was injured. Her money was on Lucifer, but that still left the question of how and why his attack had scarred her vessel.
"Say what, Azrial? That I wish you'd let Lucifer kill me?"
Azrial stiffened at the harsh question, but couldn't break away from his cold gaze. There was something else there, but for the life of her all she could see was the anger and judgment right now.
"You don't mean that."
Despite how sure she was of that, Azrial could distinctly hear the waver in her voice. Crowley smirked and she almost jumped as he grabbed her chin. She stiffened as he leaned close, as if he was about to kiss her, but stopped a few inches from her lips.
"I do. Just like I mean this," he paused and Azrial wished she could see his face better, and that her heart would stop trying to beat out of her chest. "I'm bored of you, Azrial."
She felt breathless. Not that lovely breathless from a week ago, but the suffocating type she associated with so many horrible memories. She knew there was more going on, but all her exhausted mind could comprehend was the cruelty of what Crowley was saying given the circumstances.
"Then," her voice sounded shattered even to her ears and as Crowley pulled away from her she saw a triumphant gleam in his dark eyes. "then I'll go."
Crowley smirked, but somehow it didn't reach his eyes. He pulled away from her and walked back over to his empty glass, pouring another from the tumbler on the table.
"You do that, darling."
The emotionless reply lacked any of the snark or amusement she'd expect to hear if he'd meant it. At the same time, Azrial needed to get away from him. For the first time in more than a decade she needed to put distance between her and Crowley before she did or said something she'd regret. Without a word she turned away from the table, praying she could keep it together long enough to get out of this stupid safe house. She didn't even bother to grab anything, all she wanted was to be away from Crowley.
With that thought, she was gone from the safe house and stumbled several feet before collapsing in an alleyway Father only knew where. She fell to her knees retching weakly into the dirty snow and trying to breathe through the pain. Fuck that hurt, that hurt more than anything she'd ever experienced.
Azrial lifted her head at the sound of snow crunching and stared in shock at the person looking down at her, "Gabe?"
She muttered the name in confusion, her head starting to spin again. Maybe this hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done. Strong hands were helping her up, and the feeling of grace licking at her aching body eased some of her pain. It seemed her instincts were still going strong even if nothing else was.
"Hey, sis. Need a place to stay?"
There was no judgment in his voice even though Azrial was sure she looked like a mess. There were no pointless questions of why she was out here or what happened.
She looked up at her brother searchingly, "You know what happened, don't you?"
His hazel eyes darkened and he gave a slight nod. "I do, why don't we go inside and chat?"
A door appeared on the stone wall of the alley, and Azrial could feel Gabriel's grace dripping all over the area. She knew he was doing it on purpose, silently proving who he was while making sure there was no one else around. She simply nodded and leaned against her brother as he helped her walk.
"Yeah, sounds good. Got anything to drink?"
The question was met by a snort, and Gabriel hummed as they stepped through the door into a cozy loft that seemed to smell of nothing but sugar and fresh herbs. It was a jarring combination, but Azrial didn't care.
It was safe, and that's all she needed. That and to get wasted.
Maybe Crowley had the right idea on that.
She ignored the painful wave of emotion that crashed over her at the thought of the demon and smiled tightly as Gabriel handed her a glass, not caring in the slightest what was in it.
She tilted it and in a flat voice whispered, "Cheers."
