Chapter Four
Dean blinked and stumbled as the angel who had grabbed him came out of flight. He regained his footing and spun around, glancing at his surroundings and the angel with a dark look on his face.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, spinning around again. "Where the hell are we?"
He was in some huge fancy room that looked like something from one of those old pretentious movies with the posh British people and dancing.
"This is a place to keep you out of the way until we have need of you," the angel said firmly.
Dean realized something else then, and that was that he and the angel were the only ones there. "Wait, where the hell is my brother?"
The angel looked disinterested. "We thought it best to separate you two. You will not need him here with you anyway, and you'd likely only cause trouble."
"Oh yeah, well screw you!" Dean growled, starting toward the angel, and reaching into his coat for Cas' angel blade, but his captor simply waved a bored hand and Dean flew backwards to sit down heavily in a chair. The angel stepped forward and snatched the blade from Dean, slipping it into his own coat.
"Stay," the angel said as if he were talking to a dog. "Zachariah will be here soon to explain your situation."
"Oh, awesome. I've been wanting to get a word in with that dickhead." Dean grunted as he tried to pry himself from the chair, but the angel was obviously using mojo on him and he was stuck fast. He gave up with another curse and ground his teeth, furious at his helpless position without any clue as to what happened to Sammy. He didn't exactly trust the angels to treat him well.
He sat there for a while, still trying to wrench himself free while his angel guard just watched him with a sneering, baleful look.
Then finally, the flap of wings was heard.
"Thank you, Noah, you can let him up now."
Dean glanced over and saw Zachariah appear with the angel who had nabbed Sam. He was released from the hold and surged to his feet.
"You son of a bitch," Dean snarled, stepping toward Zachariah without a thought as to what he was actually going to do. "Where the hell is my brother?"
"Ah-ah, Dean, let's not be hasty," Zachariah said in that annoyingly pleasant voice of his. The angel behind him had stepped forward, but Zachariah waved him off. "Easy, Anias, we've got this handled. Dean won't do anything rash—will you, Dean?" Zachariah cast a warning glance at him and Dean clenched his jaw but stopped, fists tightening at his sides.
"Only if you start talking, chuckles."
Zachariah sighed slightly, taking a step toward Dean. "Your brother is safe for now."
"Where is he?" Dean demanded again.
"He's being…detained elsewhere," Zachariah replied evasively.
"Okay, for that matter, what the hell did you do with Cas?"
Zachariah's eyebrows shot up. "Castiel? Why should you care?"
Dean glowered at him. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm the closest thing to a friend he has, considering you and the other flying asshats aren't exactly healthy relationship material."
Zachariah smirked slightly, but evaded the question. "Don't concern yourself with Castiel. He's where he should be right now. Just like you."
"And what the hell does that mean? What is this place?" Dean gestured to their surroundings.
"This?" Zachariah made a grand gesture. "Call it a greenroom. We're closing in on the grand finale, and we want to keep you safe before showtime."
"Hold on," Dean help up his hand. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Zachariah said. "That it's almost time for you to do what we saved your sorry ass from Hell for to begin with. Stop the apocalypse."
Dean frowned. He did not have time for this right now. Zachariah started pacing, hands clasped behind his back.
"You may not be aware of this, but all the Seals have fallen—except one."
"Well that's an impressive score—that's right up there with the Washington Generals," Dean quipped.
Zachariah turned back to him. "You think sarcasm is appropriate? Considering you started all this?"
Dean felt his stomach clench. Yes, he was well aware that he had started the apocalypse, broken the First Seal. He wished people would stop reminding him of that. It obviously wasn't going to change anything.
"What is it you want from me exactly?" Dean demanded, swallowing his inner turmoil. "Because there's a million other things I could be doing right now than sitting around on my ass here, twiddling my thumbs."
"All in good time," Zachariah said in an infuriatingly calm voice. "You let us worry about the details. We'll let you know when we have need of your services."
"Okay, well, I don't have the time right now," Dean snapped and started forward to find an exit for all the good that would do, but one of Zach's angel goons stepped forward, barring his path to the door. He spun back around to see that the table in the middle of the room was now covered with a platter of hamburgers and a fancy bowl with bottles of beer—Dean's favorite label—on ice. He stopped, frowning, as Zachariah smiled and gestured to the display.
"Have a burger. They're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware—you were eleven, I think."
"I'm not hungry," Dean grunted.
"No?" Zachariah stepped closer to him with a knowing smirk. "How about Ginger from Season Two of Gilligan's Island? You do have a thing for her, don't you?"
"Okay, bail on the holodeck," Dean snapped, weirded out that Zachariah would even suggest that. "I don't know what your play is here, but I know you're not just keeping me here to stop the friggin' apocalypse. God knows, I want to do that anyway, so there would be no reason for the extra security. So you can either tell me what I'm really doing here, or I'm leaving."
"Let us worry about the details, Dean," Zachariah said again, voice losing all pleasantness. "You just worry about being a good little soldier. Like your father taught you."
Anger flared in Dean at the mocking tone. "Alright, that's it. I'm out." He strode toward the door on one side of the room and reached for the handle. In the blink of an eye it disappeared, leaving only a wall. Dean spun around, looking for another way out, but not finding one.
He stormed back over to Zachariah. "Okay, this isn't funny anymore. Tell me where you've hid Sam and Cas, and I might not stab you in the throat."
"Oh, the only thing that's funny here is that you are laboring under the assumption that you have the upper hand," Zachariah said and suddenly swung a fist into Dean's stomach.
The hunter doubled over with a choked off cry and felt the angel goons restraining him before he could recover.
"Get him up," Zachariah snapped and they wrenched him upright so the douchebag could deliver another punishing blow to Dean's stomach.
He choked, legs giving out as he tried to regain his breath. Zachariah's hands were gripping the front of his jacket and he hauled him up and slammed him against the wall.
"Listen to me, you little maggot," he snarled, pressing his face all too close to Dean's for comfort. "I've worked hard to get where I am, and I'll be damned if some mudmonkey ruins it for me now. So you're going to do what I tell you to, or I'm going to take it out of your hide, do you understand?"
Dean glowered at him, then glanced down at Zachariah's hands and the white sleeves of his shirt peeking out from his suit jacket. They were not completely white, though, but flecked with red. Dean swallowed hard.
"You have a shaving accident there, Zach?" he quipped to hide his unease.
Zachariah looked down at his sleeves and tsked. "Ah, thank you for pointing that out. I must have missed a spot—torture can be so… messy."
Dread welled up in Dean's stomach. "You touch Sam or Cas again, I'll kill you," he said in a low voice.
Zachariah only smiled. "I'm afraid you really have no say in the matter." He let Dean go and shoved him hard against the wall. "Now, be a good boy, Dean, and stay here while I go see to…other business."
"Zachariah, you bastard!" Dean snarled, but Zachariah waved a hand at him and threw him back against the wall. Dean slammed into it hard and crumpled to the ground.
"Keep an eye on the place, I've already called in a few extra men for you," Zachariah told the angel who had nabbed Dean, straightening his suit. "The boss will call with he's ready."
The angel, Noah, Dean thought his name was, nodded, and then all three of them disappeared, leaving Dean in the room alone. He scrambled to his feet and rushed around, slamming his fists into the walls, and looking for any sign of a way out, but there was none.
He kicked a wall in frustration and then settled his back to it, slumping down to the floor with his head in his hands.
How the hell were they going to get out of this now?
Sam couldn't believe what he was watching right now. He had just come to terms with the fact he had found Castiel, and he was at least glad of that—or would be if the angel wasn't chained up, looking like he'd just been through the Spanish Inquisition. And as if that hadn't been bad enough, Zachariah had just…Sam couldn't even believe it.
All he knew was that Zachariah had said something to Castiel that Sam hadn't been able to hear and Cas had glanced over at him before looking at the ground. And then suddenly he had wings. Real, actual wings. Black, and huge and somehow it seemed like making them visible was a big thing. Something that Cas hadn't wanted to do. And worse, Sam had the terrible feeling that Cas had done it for him. Zach had likely threatened him to get Cas to do that, and Sam was sick with that thought.
And now it looked like Sam was going to have to watch Cas be tortured even more.
Zachariah left, but the other two angels in the room stayed and took a flail and a brand from a cart nearby before they advanced on Castiel and his vulnerable wings.
"Well then, Castiel," one said with a gleeful sneer. "Shall we continue?"
"Do your worst," Cas said almost resignedly.
One of the angels, the one with the whip stepped behind him and looked over the wings that Castiel had folded against his back as if trying to make them as small as possible. He sneered. "Zachariah was right, your wings look positively awful."
"Now, now Malachi," said the other angel. "Castiel got these scars in battle. Saving the Righteous Man from Hell." He smirked as he looked down at Castiel who stared balefully up at him. "For what good that did. Now Dean Winchester has forsaken his duty and taken you with him in his rebellion."
Castiel shook his head. "It is not Dean who has forsaken his duty, it is Heaven that has forsaken him."
Sam glanced at Castiel then, curious as to what he meant, but the angels seemed done with their chatting. The angel with the whip, Malachi, stepped closer to Cas and reached out to take a firm grip of his wing. "Now this won't do, Castiel, I'll need you more submissive than this. Josiah, come help me."
The second angel set the brand aside for the moment and came around to join Malachi. He reached out and grabbed Cas' wing and after a short struggle, wrenched it into an open position, holding it as he stood to one side out of reach of Malachi's swing.
Malachi gave the whip a practice swing, smirking. "You'll learn your place soon enough, Castiel. And once Zachariah is completely done with you, your loyalties to those human fleshbags will be only a distant, regrettable memory."
Sam's eyes blew wide as Malachi swung the lash toward Castiel's open wing. The blow landed and Cas's whole body tensed in obvious agony, a groan escaping his throat. Feathers fluttered to the ground, some whole, some not. Malachi swung again and Josiah had a hard time keeping Cas' wing held open.
"Do you feel repentant yet, Castiel?" Malachi asked. "Because you will."
A shattered cry broke from Cas' throat as another blow landed. Sam was jerking at his chains for all the good it would do even if he did get free. On the next blow, spatters of blood joined the feathers on the ground and Sam felt tears of rage and helplessness prick his eyes as Cas stopped trying to muffle his screams. Sam screamed past his gag too, giving one last herculean effort to free himself, feeling the chains cut into his arms and legs, but they weren't going anywhere. He was too weak, the demon blood had destroyed him. Even if he had anything to pick the lock with, his hands would be shaking too much to do so, and how could he hope to overpower two angels and get Cas out of there? He was no longer the warrior he had once been. He'd made sure of that himself, trying to get stronger, but all the demon blood had done was make him weaker. And now he was watching an angel, the only angel who had believed in him, be cruelly tortured in front of him, and his brother could be anywhere, having the same thing done to him for all Sam knew. And here he was, weak and helpless.
He couldn't even save himself; how could he be expected to save the world?
He squeezed his eyes shut as Cas screamed again, loud enough that Sam could hear the ring of his true voice coming through. Sam wondered bitterly how much of their angelic friend would be left by the time they finally made a rescue.
If they ever did.
Dean picked up an ornate stand from one of the tables in the room and swung it at the wall. Hope welled up as he saw it dent. Okay, maybe the place wasn't impervious after all.
He swung it again and again, making it through the drywall before he blinked and it had all repaired itself.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled and threw the thing to the ground, spinning around to look for something—anything—that could help him get the hell out of this place.
And then a figure appeared, but not Zachariah, a woman with red hair.
"Anna?" Dean gasped as she appeared in front of the door that had disappeared earlier when Dean had tried to leave.
"Hi, Dean," she said and then slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to her side where a patch of red was starting.
"Hey, you all right?" Dean demanded, rushing forward to offer her a hand.
"Fine," she gritted out. "We need to get out of here. I took care of the guards but more will be on the way before long." She gasped slightly and Dean took her weight before she collapsed, wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Here," she handed him an angel blade. "It's Cas'. I took it off one of the guards."
Dean took it from her and slid it into the back of his belt before he supported Anna's weight while she led him out of the room. Dean looked around in shock.
"The hell?" It was an old warehouse with three dead angels lying on the ground. He spun back around and saw that the 'room' he had been in was just a broken down office, way smaller than it had looked on the inside.
"Pocket dimensions," Anna told him. "Come on, Dean, we need to get out of here."
He nodded and helped her outside, looking around. "Where are we?"
"Van Nuys," Anna said.
Dean rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I'll get us a car, you shouldn't fly in your condition; especially with a passenger."
"I'm fine," she gritted out, trying to push away from him to prove it. "It's not too bad." The fact she almost collapsed told otherwise, and Dean caught her.
"Yeah, right. Look, do you know where they have Sam and Cas?"
Anna shook her head regrettably. "No. I heard they caught you and knew where you would be so I came here first. But I have an idea about how we can find Cas or Sam."
"Okay, well, let's go find a motel; I'll patch you up and we can try to get our bearings."
"We don't have time for this," she protested but her voice was slurring and she was getting heavier in his grip. He looked down at the wound in her side where her hand was peeling off of it, and saw the glow of angel grace peeking through.
"Dammit," Dean muttered. "Anna, just stay with me for a second longer, okay?"
But she was already slipping from his grip and he had to crouch down in order not to drop her. He cursed, seeing her whole side slicked with blood. Not too bad, his ass. He swiftly took off his jacket and flannel and tore the sleeves off the flannel. Making a pad with the rest of the shirt, he used the sleeves to secure it around Anna's waist. Hopefully that would hold until he could get a better look at it.
"All right, hang tight," he muttered to her, before he hurried off toward anything that could be of use. Thankfully, he found a gas station not too far down the road and out behind the place, an old Honda no one would see him take. He sent a silent apology to the owner and hotwired it before gunning it back to the factory. Thankfully, Anna was still where he had left her and he ran over and picked her up, carrying her back to the car and settling her into the front passenger seat. He watched worriedly as she slumped against the window, then put the car in gear again, driving a while to make sure he wouldn't be attached to the car theft and then finally coming across a scummy motel.
Anna still hadn't woken up, but Dean knew from experience with Cas that angels typically just slept injuries off. Still, he'd so what he could for her.
He paid for a room and carried Anna inside to get her settled before he hurried across the street to pick up some medical supplies and food from a convenience store.
Once he got back, Anna still hadn't woken up. He bit his lip worriedly, partly for the severity of her wound, and partly for the fact that they were running out of time to find Sam and Cas. If Zachariah had them both, then Dean was not willing to pretend they were at all safe. And he already knew Cas had been tortured…
But he set to work, taking care of Anna's wound because that was something he could do. He hissed as he loosened the makeshift bandages and peeled up her bloody shirt. It was a long, deep gash down her side, bleeding heavily with wisps of blue grace still escaping as well. He wondered if he should stitch it, but remembered how quickly Cas' wounds had healed with a little sleep, so he just butterflied it closed instead and taped gauze over it. Once he had finished and cleaned up, he gently pulled a blanket over the unconscious angel, reaching down to brush some hair away from her face. He kind of had to wonder why Anna was helping them again. The last time it hadn't gone so well for her. He'd almost been forced to hand her over to the angels for, most likely, the same treatment they were giving Cas now. And now she'd been wounded rescuing him.
He sighed and sat down on the other bed, grabbing the bag from the convenience store and taking out some of the food he had bought. This waiting game was infuriating. He didn't even have his phone on him anymore to call Bobby. The angels must have taken it.
He was about to use the phone in the room to call Bobby, figuring the older hunter would be furious, not having heard from them for a long time, when Anna stirred and moaned.
Dean was on his feet instantly, bending over her. "Anna? Hey, easy."
She started awake, but collapsed back on the pillows with a wince, gasping. "Dean…" she said, looking around.
"It's okay, we're safe," Dean told her, holding out a hand. "How are you doing?"
She closed her eyes as if taking stock of her body. "My wound is healing, but we don't have time to sit around here." She started to sit up, but Dean grabbed her shoulders, keeping her in the bed.
"Whoa, just hold on a minute. You were wounded pretty bad."
"We don't have a minute, Dean," Anna snapped. "If you want to find your brother and Castiel in one piece we have to figure out where they are now."
"Okay, then, how do we do that?" Dean demanded, frustrated and conflicted between wanting to find Sam and his friend and wanting to keep Anna from straining herself.
Anna's eyes traveled to his shoulder. "That scar on your arm. I think I can use it to find Cas."
Dean's eyes widened, as he looked down to his shoulder, covered by his jacket. "That? Anna, when Pamela tried to find him that way he burned her eyes out."
"That's because she tried to do it through a psychic connection," Anna said. "He couldn't stop her from looking at his true form. Besides, I'm an angel, it wouldn't hurt me anyway."
"Why would it work?" Dean asked.
"Because Cas had to claim your soul to get you out of hell," Anna told him. "That's why it left a mark."
Dean didn't know what to say to that, he just shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Okay, what do we do?"
"Just be quiet and let me concentrate," Anna said and reached out to touch the scar, closing her eyes. Dean sat on the side of the bed uncomfortably and then all of a sudden he felt a tingling in the scar. "Um, Anna."
"Shh, almost got it," she murmured, and then gasped. Dean was about to ask her what was wrong when his whole body was suddenly consumed with agony. He cried out in surprise, jerking. Anna's eyes flew open and she snatched her hand away from his arm, the pain stopped, only a dull memory.
"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, hand clapped over the scar.
Anna panted, a haunted look on her face. "Cas. It was Cas. Tapping into his location through your scar tapped into his subconscious. He's in agony."
Dean tugged his jacket on, swallowing hard. "Did you get a location?"
"A general one," Anna said. "We should be able to find him once we get there."
Dean helped her off the bed, but she seemed to be doing a little better now. He quickly grabbed his stuff and led the way out to the stolen car. He wished he hadn't had to leave the Impala at Chuck's house. He would definitely be back for it.
"He's somewhere in Northern California, San Francisco area," Anna told him as they got into the car.
"Great, so surprisingly not too far," Dean said.
"If I recover sufficiently before then I'll fly us there," Anna told him.
Dean nodded, concentrating on driving as Anna rested in the passenger seat. He tried not to focus too much on the memory of the pain that had ripped through him, apparently coming from Cas. What the hell had Zachariah done to him?
He glanced over at Anna then, watching her staring out the window at the highway slipping past them.
"Hey, um, look, it's not that I'm not grateful for you helping us out, but I kinda have to ask—why?" he said.
Anna turned to him with a frown. "Why wouldn't I?"
Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, because we kinda almost gave you up to the angels before. And you wouldn't have been any better off than Cas is now."
"I already told you it wasn't your fault they put you into that position, Dean, that's what they do," Anna said bitterly. "I don't blame you for choosing your brother over me. For the record, if it were me, and it was Cas on the line, I would have given you up too."
Dean glanced over at her again. "You two are really close, aren't you?"
"We were, once upon a time," Anna said quietly, sadly. "I just feel like I failed him. When I chose to fall, I couldn't bear the thought of bringing anyone else with me, knowing what they would have to endure. I couldn't force anyone to that decision even though I felt it was right. And now Cas is there anyway, suffering all the same, and I wasn't able to be there to help guide him."
"I get that," Dean said softly. "One thing I've had to learn being a big brother is that you're just gonna have to accept you're not always gonna be there when they need you. But you can try to be there to pick up the pieces afterward, and count yourself lucky you can do that at least."
"I suppose you're right," Anna said.
Dean reached over and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "We'll get them both back."
"Oh, I know we will," Anna said with steely determination. "And anyone who hurt them will have hell to pay."
"Damn straight," Dean replied, and pushed his foot into the pedal a little harder, not wanting to waste any second they didn't have to.