A/N: I just wanted to do a little write up and explanation on Felix. He was meant to serve a fairly specific purpose and I feel I have not done him justice in my writing. I have, from the beginning, been fascinated by the idea of a vessel. Here is a person, trapped, with no control over their own body, stuck with another individual for however long they are occupied. I have toyed with the idea of this unique perspective before in this fic, with writing Sam's perspective on the scene in Swan Song, and I have considered writing a Sam POV for the Lucifer scene in The End (One-shot. Different fic). Felix is a play on that same theme. It occurred to me that Gabriel has had the same vessel for an incredibly long time, and given that, that we know of, he has never been killed, the body's original owner is logically alive and well. Having been that close to someone, literally riding in the same skin, for that long, would obviously result in an interesting relationship. If we throw into the mix that Gabriel is not particularly easy to get along with, he hasn't exactly been flying around saving the world like Cas does, and that Felix is relatively serious, I thought it could be interesting. I was aiming for something approaching a close friends/old married couple type dynamic. I am fairly certain that I failed. I apologize.
On to the regular author's note!
Hello everyone! Thanks for reading. CarverEdlundtheLast: Glad you enjoyed! I'm so glad you like the songs. I put a lot of work into them, and just knowing that it improves even one person's experience of the fic… it means a lot. Thank you. Emma Winchester 424: Always wonderful to meet a new reader! I'm glad that you've enjoyed so far, and hope that you stay with me for the rest of the ride. I love you, and thanks for reviewing!
I do not own Supernatural or its characters.
Chapter 35: The Great Escape: Part 2
Dean pretended to read his lore book, stealing glances at Cas when the angel's back was turned. Finally he sighed, flipping the book closed and swinging his legs off the library table, "Cas, is there something I should know?"
The other man didn't look at him, continuing to peruse the shelves, "What do you mean, Dean?"
Dean looked at the floor, worrying his upper lip as he thought, "I mean the way you've been acting ever since this whole thing started. The way you've been walking on eggshells and looking like you killed a puppy any time one of the kids walk in the room. That whole speech to Dean about how you'd failed us, how this is your fault."
Cas glanced at him briefly, "I- I have failed you, and betrayed you, on multiple occasions." He looked back at the bookshelf as he continued speaking, "I am certain you can name several at this moment."
Dean stood up, pacing the room to stand near the angel, "Come on, Cas. 'Far worse like me, for example'? You weren't talking about feeling guilty for crap that happened a few years ago. Now what's going on?"
Cas looked down, not meeting Dean's gaze, "This is my fault, all of it."
"How could this possibly be…" He stopped, stayed by the expression on Cas's face. His voice turned worried, "Cas?"
The angel didn't look up, "Do you remember Anna? Her attack on your parents?"
"Yeah, of course I do."
"The Michael from your time cleaned up the incident well, erased your parent's memories, eliminated all signs of angelic interference. No one in heaven could determine who or what had perpetrated the attack. However, it brought to their attention the fact that they were not the only ones with an interest in your family. There were other things -other forces- that would be only too glad to monopolize that advantage. You had to be protected. So, they assigned a guard."
"Who…" Realization came over Dean's face. "Cas, how long have you been watching us?"
"Since, maybe, a month after the attack? Possibly less."
Dean was silent. He wasn't sure how he felt about this revelation, the idea that Cas had been involved in his life since before he was born. It also brought up another disturbing thought, "1979? You were assigned in 1979?" There was a pause. "Were you there then? That night? When Yellow Eyes showed up?"
Cas's eyes were apologetic, "I'm sorry, Dean. My orders forbade me to interfere. I was to watch, hidden, and report all developments to my commander. I didn't mean-" He sighed, "I should have ignored my orders. I should have stopped it. I should have-"
Dean held up a hand, "Forget it. It's been over thirty years, Cas. Thirty years of grade A crap. It's okay. I'm too tired to care. I don't have a lot of people left, and you're one of them, so, I really couldn't give a damn about your orders." He smiled slightly, "'Sides, have you met you back then? No offense, but you were kind of a dick." He chuckled a little, a dry, tired chuckle.
Cas watched him sadly. The man was trying to change the subject, ignore the issue until he could drink it away like everything else, and a part of Cas wanted him to succeed. However he wasn't finished, "There's more, Dean."
Dean obviously really wanted to drop it. "Cas, I don't-"
"You asked why I blame myself for this. I am going to tell you. This shouldn't have happened. It's my fault. If it wasn't for me they would have been protected anyway and Michael never would have felt the need to send them to you for protection."
"What are you talking about?"
The angel sighed, "I was assigned to watch over you, and your brother. His dreams. I… interfered in one."
Dean looked confused, "So you helped him."
"No. I thought I was helping him. He was in a great deal of distress, and I entered the dream to aid him. He was- it was of Armageddon. Lucifer was inside him, beating you, in the minutes before Sam took back control. It was perhaps the worst memory he has outside of the Cage."
"You got him out of it. Thanks."
"It's not that simple. Anna found me retuning to my post. It was disobedience, Dean. She could have had me killed. Instead she banished me to Heaven. Because of me, you were both left unguarded."
Dean paused, "Cas… look, whatever happened, it's fine, okay? You can't keep beating yourself up over this stuff. I mean, come on, if I held onto all the stuff like that I've done, I don't think I'd be able to function. Come on, let's just… let's find this damn symbol, then we can deal with whatever other crap comes up."
"All right."
Cas watched him walk off toward the kitchen, most likely to find some alcohol. That was his usual recourse when he gained some new knowledge he hadn't wanted. The angel was worried about the repercussions of what had been said. Dean may have dropped it for now, but Cas knew him too well to believe he was as unaffected as he claimed. Most likely the man would sit and think about it, letting it fester until it came out in some unhealthy display of his emotions. It was the usual cycle, and Cas was used to it. What worried him was the thinking that would be done in the meantime. Could Dean actually forgive this? Their friendship had survived so much strain, Cas couldn't help but wonder with each new problem what would be the breaking point. What if this was it?
1985
The dark-suited figure stood in the center of the old warehouse, checking his watch. He had been waiting thirty minutes, the lack of respect demonstrated by this forced follower of his really was most infuriating. The King of the Crossroads stood, chafing at the delay, until he finally heard the door open behind him. He spoke, "Well?"
The demon that had just entered lazily strolled across the room, smiling, before taking a seat on some boxes, "Nice to see you too. Hmm, see you kept your vessel. Any particular reason?"
Crowley sighed. The small talk was getting ridiculous, "I'm sentimental. Now, you requested this bloody meeting, presumably you had a reason."
A comically wounded look came over its face, "You're really rude, you know that? Quite a son of a bitch."
"Yes, she was rather. Now enouph chat, what do you want?"
It grinned, "Well, to get right down to it, I know how to kill a Knight."
Crowley's eyebrows went up, "Really?"
"Yeah. It wasn't easy to dig up. I'll expect something good for this."
"We already discussed your payment. You're doing a favor for me in return for Alastair and Azazal staying in the dark about you. Don't worry though, you fulfill your end of the bargain and they never have to hear a thing. Promise."
It paused, "What's to stop me just going to them with your little plan? You're the only one that knows about me."
Crowley smiled innocently, "What plan? Kill Abaddon if she shows her murderous face? Please. I don't have followers or a faction, I'm not a threat. I bring in revenue, lots of it. I'm useful. What do the big bosses care if I have a hobby? You've got nothing on me, mate."
It sighed, leaning forward, "Okay, fine. You need a special weapon. There's only one thing that can kill a Knight of Hell. The First Blade."
Crowley was incredulous, "The First Blade. You mean bloody Cain."
It nodded, "Yeah."
Crowley sighed, "Bollocks." That was unfortunate. Cain was the last person he wanted to go near, not that anyone in hell knew where he was. Still… It couldn't hurt to know how to find him, just in case. Besides, maybe he didn't have the blade anymore. The demon scoffed. Yeah, right, like he'd be that lucky. More likely he'd show up to meet the man and get stabbed. It had been a long time since anyone had heard anything about him, Cain had gone completely off the radar. The Mark had to be hungry by now, and Cain did not have a good track record with demons. He spoke, "Okay, next, I need to know how to find the bloody thing. There's a woman, widow of one of the Men of Letters. She might know something. I want you to talk to her."
"Doesn't sound too hard. How do I find her?"
"She lives in Illinois. Town called Normal. Name's Millie Winchester."
The creature looked confused, "Winchester? Like the gun?"
Idiot. "Yeah. Like the gun."
Sam snatched his phone as it went off, answering on the first ring, "Dean. You're on speaker"
"Hey. Okay, so we found the symbol. I'll text it to you in a second. You want to put it on the wall, doesn't matter where."
"Wall. Got it."
"Good. It's a blood sigil. You know, like an angel banishing sigil or something. Gotta be done in the casters blood. Same drill: draw it, then touch to activate."
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
He hung up, leaving Sam and the child staring at each other in silence. Dean spoke, "Where do you want me?"
"Uh…" He walked over, picking him up and lifting him over the flames to stand in the middle of the circle, "Stay there." Sam's phone made a small noise, and Sam glanced at it to see a texted picture of the symbol.
He walked across the room, taking out a knife and slicing a shallow cut in his arm. He slicked his fingers with blood from it, then started to paint the wall, drawing three sigils in various locations, with the hope that this would ensure his being near one of them if it was needed.
He glanced at Dean, noticing his worried and pained expression, "Uh, it's okay. This doesn't hurt me all that much; I'm used to it."
Dean didn't look away, "But this isn't how it's supposed to be." He protested.
Sam looked confused, "What?"
"You're not supposed to have to do this stuff. Dad does it, and I will do it, but you're not supposed to." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, "You're supposed to be a kid… You're supposed to be happy."
"I- I am. I mean, sure hunting sucks sometimes, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy."
Dean stopped talking, but he still looked like he wanted to cry and Sam rather doubted that he had actually convinced him of anything.
A few lightbulbs broke and Sam rushed for one wall, "Okay, here we go. Get ready."
Dean held his breath as the door blew open.
Ezekiel walked in, the door closing behind him with a wave of his hand. He spoke, "Hello, Dean. Have you thought about what I said? Are you ready to end this foolishness?"
Dean froze. He knew what he wanted, but speaking with this angel terrified him and his vocal cords seemed almost paralyzed. Finally he forced himself to speak, "I have, and the answer's still no."
The angel cocked his head, "Really?"
"Yeah. Now leave me and my brother alone. I don't ever want to see you again."
It sighed, as though reasoning with an unreasonable child, "Dean. What I am asking you to do is for your own good."
"I don't really care. Look, 'Zeke, I know you think you're doing the right thing, but you're not. You have no idea what's really going on here."
"Very well, what is going on? Please, tell me this great scheme." His voice was vaguely mocking.
"Uh…" Dean trailed off. He suddenly realized that he didn't actually know the answer to that question.
"You see, child, you do not understand the situation. I do. Let me explain: There is a war being fought in the shadows, a conflict of good against evil, and you have the potential to play a part in that war. Your brother does as well. We do not wish the war to reach the point in which that potential could be used, but there are creatures, demons, that would wish to hurt you and use you for their purposes. To keep them from hurting you and Sam, I have come to get you and take you to a place where you can be protected. You want Sam to be protected, don't you?"
Sam broke in, "Yeah, and who told you all this? Who told you to come here and kidnap kids?"
Ezekiel barely glanced at him, "Heaven."
Sam spoke sarcastically, "Oh and heaven's always right?"
"Yes, actually."
"How do you know?"
The angel seemed to be getting annoyed, "Because they are. My orders come from God. He is infallible."
"Oh, you've talked personally with God. Sorry, my mistake."
It sighed, "No, but my commanders do. They give me my orders. It is my duty to obey."
Sam scoffed, "Right, yeah, 'cause no way any of them have their own agenda."
That seemed to be Ezekiel's breaking point. He threw out a hand. A second later Sam found himself pinned to the wall, well away from any of the sigils.
The angel walked toward him, "The boy with the demon blood. You are making yourself quite irritating."
Sam smiled, "Been a long time since anyone called me that."
She cocked her head, "What then? Who are you now, human child?"
"I'm Sam freaking Winchester."
Ezekiel almost looked sad, "No, you're not. You've been ripped to pieces. You are so far from being that person, looking at you… your soul… it's unrecognizable. What are you?" Dean stared at his brother. What was Ezekiel talking about?
Sam appeared equally confused, "How would you know what my soul looks like?"
"I have seen you before. A friend of mine was assigned to guard you both, and I kept him company on occasion."
Sam nodded, "What friend?"
"An angel. Castiel."
Sam was genuinely surprised, "Castiel?"
"Yes. An honorable soldier."
Dean watched the exchange in fascinated fear, then, realizing the angel was distracted, he started to plan, staring at the symbols drawn of the walls, memorizing them.
Ezekiel continued to talk, "He thinks very highly of your kind, perhaps higher than you deserve."
Sam spoke, "No, no, wait… how long has this Castiel been stalking us?"
"Guarding. And he was taken off the case. I don't know why, it was all very quiet. First his commander sent him back, then the mission was discontinued, and now they have ordered the protective seizure of these children."
"Exactly! Don't you wonder what's going on? Why they can't seem to make up their minds?"
"No. I have received an order, it is not my place to question God's reasoning. It is my place to obey the instructions I am given."
"Buddy, God isn't even giving the orders up there."
Ezekiel sputtered and looked shocked, "That is blasphemy. I should smite you where you stand for even suggest-"
"Hey! Bitch!" Two gunshots rang out. Ezekiel turned, to see Dean standing, a revolver held out in front of him, two holes in the back of the angel's suit. "Leave my brother alone!"
"Interesting. I can see what Castiel sees in you. You are indeed as brave as he says. However," He began to walk toward the child, now a couple of feet outside of the circle, "You are also very foolish." He paused, noticing a drop of red falling from the boy's fingers. "What did you-" his gaze traveled up, landing on the sigil drawn on the wall behind Dean.
Dean stared down the approaching angel, "Hasta la Vista, Baby." He slammed his bloodied hand into the middle of the symbol. Light radiated out, reaching a blinding intensity, before dying away. Dean collapsed to the floor. The angel gone, Sam dropped from the wall, hurrying to his brother's side. He sighed heavily, "Dean, you idiot."
In his eagerness and lack of knowledge and experience, Dean had used a pocketknife to slit one wrist for the blood needed. The angel threat may have been gone, but the child now lay on the floor, unconscious from blood loss. Sam hurriedly bound the limb tightly, then gathered the boy into his arms and rushed from the room. He had to get Dean back.
