Thank you so much VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading. Thank you all for reading.
Chapter Nine
Sam flexed his wings and looked from side to side to examine them. Their shape was more defined now; he could see outlines that looked like feathers in the shape of them. As his grace replenished, his ability to see them grew. He thought he would be able to see them clearly when it was fully charged again, and he wondered what they would look like to archangel eyes.
"You're growing stronger," Violet observed.
"I am," Sam agreed. "That's good. I am going to need strength."
She bit her lip. "What are you going to do with your strength?"
Sam eyed her nervous face and smiled slightly. "Are you asking if I plan to start another apocalypse? I'm not. I just plan to settle a score and then… I don't know what I'll do after." He drew his wings in at his back and sat down on the couch. "Violet, do the souls still scream in the veil?"
She looked startled by the question. "Not all of them, the newer ones are quiet, but that doesn't last long. There are always more joining them. Why?"
Sam shrugged. "Just curious."
"So… do you still need me?" she asked hesitantly.
Sam looked at her, seeing the poorly concealed hope in her eyes, and felt a wave of pity. She'd been with him for two weeks now, teaching him everything that he was apparently capable of. He thought he had a handle on it all now, and he was stronger than he'd been after he'd last parted from Chuck, but he was unwilling to let her go. He'd be alone again, and he'd enjoyed having company.
Ultimately, he could think of no good reason, apart from selfishness, to keep her around, so he nodded and said, "You can go, but listen for me if I call. And if you hear anything about Michael, find me at once."
Violet nodded eagerly and disappeared.
Sam sighed and looked around the cabin. He didn't know what to do next, and he was already feeling lonely. He wanted someone with him, someone that saw the real Sam, not Lucifer. There was no one that could though. Chuck had done too good a job, leaving only Billie knowing the truth, and Sam didn't think she'd be open to visiting him.
Sam ran a hand through his hair and looked around. The cabin had once been a kind of haven to him and Dean. Not the way the bunker was or Bobby's house, but they'd been here together, shared meals here. They'd laughed here, lived here, they'd grieved Bobby here.
Sam felt a wave of longing. He would give anything to have Bobby with him now. He would know what to do. He could help. But Bobby in Heaven, and Sam was here.
Though did he have to be?
An idea kindling, Sam stood then spread his wings and let his instincts guide him to Midwest America, where a generic playground with an important sandbox resided.
The first thing he saw when he arrived was Castiel. He didn't seem to notice Sam's arrival. He was distracted, sitting on a bench with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging as he muttered to the air, the words having the air of being spoken many times before.
"Naomi, please. I need to speak to you. The world is in terrible danger and I need your help." Castiel looked up at the sandbox and then bowed his head again. "Naomi, please…"
"What help do you think you're going to get, Cas?" Sam asked.
Castiel jumped to his feet, his blade dropping into his hand and his face aghast. "Lucifer."
Sam ignored the painful reaction and asked, "What help do you think you'll get?" He frowned. "Are you looking for a way to stop Michael or me?"
Gabriel roused in his mind. Why are you even asking, Sam?
Castiel swallowed hard and licked his lips. "Michael."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're going to kill Michael but leave me alone."
"Michael is the most dangerous."
Sam could tell he didn't really believe it. Castiel had proven himself to be a skilled liar in the past, but he was scared now and that was sapping his ability to deceive. They were looking for a way to kill them both.
Sam wasn't scared for himself as Dean was the one that posed a threat to him, and as far as Sam knew, he had no weapon that would work. The archangel blade could only be wielded by an archangel. Dean was just human. The only other weapons were the blades he and Michael wielded, and Dean couldn't get them.
However his foretold death came about, it wasn't coming yet. What mattered more was that Sam stop them putting themselves in the line of fire.
If they went after Michael, if Dean did, he would be at risk. Michael would either use him as a vessel or kill him. Neither was an outcome Sam could bear.
Sam fixed his eyes on Castiel. "You're going to stop."
"Stop what?"
"Hunting Michael. You can spend as much time coming for me as you like, but Michael is mine. I am going to be the one to end him. All you're doing going after Michael is putting yourselves in danger."
Castiel seemed to gird himself. "Why would you care?"
For a moment, Sam considered telling Castiel the truth, to make him understand, but he didn't want to deal with disbelief. It wouldn't work anyway. Castiel would never believe, and Sam would be left with nothing but disappointment and perhaps Castiel's hateful words.
Sam wasn't weak by any means, but hearing his friend, practically a brother, spewing hatred at him wasn't something he wanted to expose himself to.
"Just keep away from Michael," he said. "If Dean gives consent, even if he makes a deal, Michael will never let him go."
"Dean would never give consent," Castiel said.
"He would if… his brother was in danger. If Michael threatened him, Dean would do anything Michael wanted."
Sam couldn't bring himself to use Nick's name in the same sentence as brother. Nick wasn't Dean's brother, no matter how different he was now he had a second chance. Sam was Dean's family. Nick was just a cruel trick played by Chuck.
Castiel seemed to consider his words. "You might be right, but I still don't understand why you care."
"It doesn't matter why, it only matters that I do. The best thing you can do to stop Michael is keep Nick safe and Dean away from him."
Castiel looked wary, almost afraid, and Sam decided he'd spent enough time with him. He raised his voice and spoke to the air. "Naomi, open the gate!"
Castiel's eyes moved from him to the sandbox as light began to spill from it and move upwards. Sam stepped towards it and then stopped as he saw Castiel poised to jump into it.
"You're not coming," Sam growled. "You don't need more information than you already have since you're standing down."
Castiel hesitated a moment then seemed to decide his need was greater than his fear. He jumped toward the light and Sam waved a hand, sending Castiel flying back to collide with the climbing frame.
Sam glanced at him, seeing Castiel's distress, and then stepped into the light. There was a feeling of warmth and something indefinable that Sam could only connect to the feeling of riding in the Impala beside Dean, and then he was standing in a long white hall with doors bearing names and dates on it.
"I don't remember this," he muttered.
The Heaven he'd seen had been memories and familiar places. This seemed to be the place only angels could access, each door leading into a personal heaven.
He set off walking and came to a junction that made him stop and consider. He needed another angel, not a stroll through endless heavens. He wanted to find Bobby and the names on these doors were all variations of Sarah Clarke.
"Little help here," he called.
There were footsteps and he looked right to see an angel he recognized walking towards him.
It was Naomi, and she looked tense but not angry as she came to a stop in front of him and said, "Lucifer. How can I help you?"
"I want to see Bobby Singer."
She frowned. "Mr. Singer? Why?"
"That's not important. Just take me to him."
She stared at him for a moment and then said, "I will, of course, but there is something I would like to discuss with you while you're here. There has been a development since you… left us."
"I had things to do," Sam said dismissively, walking toward her. "What's this development."
"We think we have a way to save Heaven."
As if to punctuate her words, the lights dipped and rose again. Castiel had told them this was happening when he was here, a sign that the power was fading, and Sam felt a prickle of unease at the proof.
He came to a stop and looked at her. "How can you save it?"
"There is a spell, well, more of a theory really. It requires the power of an archangel and the power of the souls. If we can harness the power of one soul, it can sustain its own heaven. If there were more, it could sustain the whole of Heaven."
"What happens to the soul while they're being used as nuclear reactors?" he asked.
"Nothing. They will continue on in their heavens as before. The problem is, we need more. If we can open the gates, the souls that would flood in would be more than enough."
"The power of an archangel," he mused. "You want my grace?"
He couldn't give that up as he needed to be strong to kill Michael.
"No, just your power to perform the spell."
Sam sorted through the information, searching for a lie or flaw. He didn't trust Naomi, or any angel apart from Castiel really, but this was a big thing. If he could save heaven, open it again, all the people they'd lost would have peace. The Veil would empty of all the waiting souls that could be saved, those that weren't too far gone, the tethered vengeful sprits.
"Okay," he said. "I'll do it. Set up whatever you need and I'll do whatever you need."
She looked startled but pleased and said, "I'll do it now."
"No, you won't," Sam corrected. "You'll take me to Bobby first. Once I've seen him, I'll do what you need. Take me to his heaven."
"Bobby Singer isn't in his own heaven at the moment."
"He's heaven hopping?" Sam chuckled. "Damn, Ash, you're good."
"No," Naomi said calmly. "He's imprisoned."
Sam's heart jolted and fury flooded him. "He's what?"
She looked confused, clearly wondering why he cared.
He grabbed the collar of her jacket and lifted her so they were almost nose to nose. "What did you do to him?"
"He created chaos," she said, her voice constricted with fear. "He was working with Castiel and Nick Winchester. He disturbed other souls. Angels were hurt."
Sam couldn't understand why he'd not thought of this before, why Castiel hadn't known. Bobby had said in his letter that he expected some price for what he'd done, but Sam had never imagined he'd be locked away for it.
Sam shoved Naomi away from him, throwing her into the wall where she slid into a crumpled heap and raised her hands.
"It's Heaven's law, Lucifer."
Sam spoke through gritted teeth. "Take me to him. Now!"
She got to her feet and drew a breath, seeming to be summoning courage as she smoothed her jacket and then started off along the hall, coming to a door at the end and pushing it open. Sam followed her through it, close on her heels, to another hall, though this one had doors without names.
"The Axis Mundi?" he guessed.
"Of course," she said, looking puzzled. "It's not far."
They walked in silence, Sam's anger still bubbling under the surface, to a door that Naomi opened and gestured him through. Sam didn't hesitate, eager to get to Bobby, and found himself in a room with stone walls and barred cells to the right. There was a pile of rubble and twisted metal at the end that Sam assumed was the cell Gadreel had blasted apart when he'd died to free Castiel.
In the first cell was a familiar figure. Bobby sat on a carved stone bench, the peak of his hat casting shadow over his face.
He glowered as he fixed his eyes on Sam. "Lucifer," he snarled. "What do you want, you son of a bitch?"
Sam's breath caught and he felt a wave of sadness and love for his surrogate father that made its home in his voice. "Bobby…"
Bobby leaped to his feet and marched towards the bars and gripped them. "You can cut that crap. Whatever game this is, I'm not buying into it. I know what you are."
"I'm not who you think," Sam said, his heart aching with sadness.
Bobby snorted. "Sure, and you didn't spout crap like that at Nick when you were trying to get the big yes either. You didn't try to fool him." His voice rose to a shout. "You didn't torture him for nearly two centuries because of it! You hurt my boy, you bastard! I don't care what you come at me with now, I'll take it because he did."
"I'm not going to hurt you, Bobby," Sam said quietly.
He had come with the intent of seeing his friend, maybe trying to make him see the truth, but there was no point. He couldn't do it. He could maybe have borne the hatred and disbelief in Castiel, but he couldn't bear it from Bobby.
He turned away and said, "Take him back to his heaven. Tell me what I need to do."
He heard a murmur of her voice in his head, calling to an angel named Dumah on angel radio which he was still growing accustomed to, and then a dark-haired female angel appeared at the door and said, "Yes, Naomi. What do you need?" She shot Lucifer a wary look. "Or do you need me… uh… sir?"
"Take Mr. Singer back to his heaven," Naomi said. "See him settled and then come to the throne room. Lucifer is going to help us."
"He's going to what?" Bobby asked. "Now, look here, whatever that monster is promising you, you can't trust him. Shove him in this damn cell instead of me."
Sam forced himself not to flinch from Bobby's anger as Dumah opened the cell and pulled Bobby out by the elbow.
A question occurred to him. He didn't want to ask it as he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he owed it to Bobby. When Bobby and Dumah were gone, he addressed Naomi. "Did Castiel know what happened to Bobby?"
"Yes."
Sam squeezed his eyes closed as heat raced through his veins. It was potent as an electric shock and created a buzzing in his ears.
"Did he try to help him?" he asked.
"He appealed for him at first, but when he came later, it was with an appeal for us to help him. He didn't ask again."
Sam's hands fisted, and he had to fight down an urge to attack her in place of the one he wanted to hurt. That Castiel had done this, had known and hidden it from him and Dean, enraged him.
He drew a breath and said, "Okay. What do I need for this spell, theory, whatever?"
"We need to prepare the throne room for it, and there's an ingredient you will have to retrieve from one of us."
"What ingredient?" Sam asked.
"Grace. The spell requires the grace of an angel. You need to take mine."
Sam narrowed his eyes, the fury still pulsing through him, and a smile curved his lips. "Never mind your grace, there's another angel I can use."
You sure about this, Sam? Gabriel asked. I get that you're pissed, but this is a bit extreme.
She tilted her head to the side. "Are you talking about Castiel?"
Sam spoke through his teeth. "Yes. Get him here."
The walls of the room were daubed with sigils that had been painted in deep red blood.
Naomi had explained the blood had come from a holy man. She'd been confused when he'd questioned whether the man had lived, not understanding why he'd think it mattered. To Lucifer—and to her—it wouldn't. Sam was the one that cared.
On the strange white throne was a silver bowl with a blue fire burning inside it. There were ingredients in the bowl that Sam didn't know the names of, though he knew one was a piece of the rubble from the cell Gadreel had broken.
Beside him stood Naomi with a glass vial in her hand. "You need to pour the grace into the fire as you say the Enochian," she instructed.
It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to say he didn't know much Enochian, and then he realized, with a sense of dawning realization, that he did. Every word and intonation was seared into his mind. More, he was speaking Enochian to her and had been since he arrived.
"What do I have to say," he asked.
"Open the way," she said.
"And you really think this will work?" he asked.
"We hope it will. Indra has been working on it for months in seclusion, studying the oldest texts and tales."
"And the spell will turn the souls into power, too?"
"It will start the process. When the souls reach their heavens, they will create the path themselves. You need to say 'Bring light'"
Sam nodded and looked around the room. "They're taking too long. I need Castiel here now."
Stop and think about this, Sam… Gabriel started, but Sam ignored the voice and looked around as he heard a disturbance in the hall.
Castiel was dragged in by two angels. His eyes roved and settled on Sam. "What are you doing, Lucifer?"
Sam marched towards him and grabbed him by the throat. He shoved him against the wall and lifted him until his feet were dangling. "You knew!" he growled. "Bobby was in that cell all this time and you never told us!"
Castiel couldn't speak, but his eyes asked the question.
Sam pulled him from the wall and slammed him back into it, his head colliding with a thunk. "I care because he was my family. He belonged to us and you left him there."
"Lucifer," Naomi said hesitantly. "What are you saying?"
Sam ignored her and drew his blade. He released Castiel who slumped and tried to escape, rolling to the right and getting to his feet. Sam kicked his legs out from under him and bent over him.
"You're the abomination, Castiel," he said. "Not me. You're the monster here."
Castiel's eyes widened as Sam brought the tip of his blade to his throat.
"I'm taking your grace," he said. "You can go back to Dean and tell him what I did and why. You can explain what you did to Bobby. Let him see what a monster you are."
Castiel shook his head jerkily, and Gabriel's voice in Sam's mind spoke up again, Stop and think, Sam! You don't want to do this. It's Cas!
Sam was on the point of doing it, cutting Castiel's throat, when Gabriel shouted, Think about Dean! He's got Michael after him. Are you seriously going to take away his strongest ally?
His words penetrated, and Sam gasped. He couldn't believe how close he had come to leaving Dean vulnerable.
Reason returned and, he changed his aim from Castiel to Naomi and made a swift cut of his blade through her neck.
Blood trickled with the grace that spilled out of the small wound. Sam grabbed the vial from her hand and held it up. The grace flowed into it and he waited until the last was gone before he pressed his thumb over the opening to seal it inside and then healed Naomi's throat.
That's it, Gabriel said. Now the spell.
Sam went to the throne and tipped the grace into the fire as he chanted the Enochian, "Odo a fafen. Olpirt ugear."
The flames roared up and he took a step back. There was nothing for a moment but the heat of the fire on his face and shocked breaths behind him, and then there was a sonorous clang, the floor began to shake and a howling wind swept through the room like a gale. Dumah and Naomi were thrown to the floor, and Castiel skidded on his back into a wall, but Sam remained standing, the wind rushing through his hair and wings.
"It's working," he said gleefully. "I can feel it."
In the wind were voices and laughter. He could hear the souls rejoicing as they passed him by, relishing their arrival in their rightful place at last.
It seemed to last forever before the wind died, and Sam looked up the ceiling. The lights that had dipped periodically were glowing brighter than ever before.
It was more than the physical proof that made Sam sure it had worked though; it was the feeling of the place. The warmth and sense of home he felt were stronger now, more potent. It was the feeling of Dean.
It's home, Gabriel said.
Sam looked around as Dumah stood and helped Naomi to her feet. She was wavering, and Sam could see the shock in her pale face.
Castiel was still on the floor, watching Sam as if he expected him to strike at any moment. Sam walked towards him and bent so their faces were close.
"You get to keep your grace and live, Castiel," he said. "Now go tell Dean what you've done."
Easy, Sam, Gabriel said gently.
Sam straightened up and addressed Dumah. "Get him out of here, Naomi, too. Take her… wherever. Set her up with what she needs."
Dumah nodded and edged Naomi to the door then turned back and looked at Castiel. "You should come," she advised. "I don't think his mercy will last."
Sam huffed a laugh. "No, it really won't."
That wasn't entirely true. Now that it was over, he felt calm. Castiel had betrayed them, left Bobby to suffer, but he didn't deserve to die for it. He didn't want Castiel leaving with the impression that he was going to be kind though. He wanted him knowing he'd gotten off lightly and that Sam was a threat. If he could impart that message to Dean and the others, they would take him seriously when it came to Michael. They would hopefully leave him to complete his task without interfering and putting Dean in danger.
Castiel scrambled to his feet and rushed out of the room after Naomi and Dumah.
Sam stopped a moment and just breathed, and then he felt a stirring in his chest that made his wings prickle.
Seeing Bobby had been a failure, he'd not achieved what he wanted but there was someone else he could see, even if she couldn't see him.
He headed to the door and marched in the opposite direction to that which Dumah and her charges had taken. He strode along the hall, drawn by the instinct that he would end up where he needed to be.
It took time but he didn't tire. If anything, he grew more energized. And when he reached the door he wanted, he thrust it open and peered inside to see a magical scene.
Charlie Bradbury was sitting on the floor of a living room decorated in pale blues and greens. In front of her was a Christmas tree laden with baubles, tinsel, and blinking lights. Sitting opposite her were two people he assumed were her parents. They were beaming at her, love in their eyes as she tore into the gift-wrap on a box. She looked so happy; they all did. They were together as Charlie had wished they were for many long lonely years of her life.
Sam closed the door and started off along the hall again. He'd done something good, bringing all those souls to heaven and sustaining it for them in future, and his reward had been seeing Charlie.
The only pang he felt in that moment was that he hadn't been able to share the moment with Dean. It would have meant as much to him as it had Sam.
Charlie was with her family again and she was happy. And for a while, maybe just an hour, Sam would be happy too.
So… That was dramatic. Heaven is open again, which is awesome, but Castiel very nearly lost his grace for it. In the original draft of this chapter, Sam was a lot darker and more determined to punish. When I came back to rewrite, I realized I'd gone too far, so I toned it down.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx