The beginning of this chapter was hard for me to write, very hard. Perversly, the end of it has been floating around on the edge of my awareness and scrawled onto pieces of paper at work since I started to write Haunted (rather like Cassidy was half way through Hallelujah). It's possible that there won't be a chapter tomorrow night, not because I won't get it finished, but because it is one of my best friends birthday and we're going out to celebrate (he'll never read this, but Happy Birthday anyway, Monk!) so I'll have the final part up on Sunday.
Don't you know the war is far from over now
What a stumbling block we've fallen over now
As our brothers die defending no one
The war is far from over now
Cassidy leans behind the bar, one eye on the television, the other on Peter as he paces the room, cell phone pressed to his ear as he frantically dials and redials Daniel's number. She knows what the outcome will be, knows it in the pit of her stomach, knows that Peter does not want to acknowledge it, does not want to admit the possibility that the worst has happened until he has proof.
Though she tries not to let it show, Cassidy is blaming herself for this, blaming herself for simply agreeing to Daniel's leaving them when they knew so little about what is really happening out there. Her kneejerk reaction to the whole thing was for them to remain uninvolved until the last possible moment, to keep the other hunters uninvolved and just leave it to Sam and Dean to fix it. Daniel, however, is a hunter and they are conditioned, programmed even, to seek out the supernatural and kill it, stop it from hurting others. Even if she and Peter had remained on the sidelines, Daniel never would, and, therefore, it would become impossible for them to stay neutral.
Her eyes are drawn back to the television, to one of the numerous motels in the latest casualty of the angel's war, to the familiar blue car with plates that they know so well and she cannot stop her gasp. Peter sees it too and for him it is the confirmation that he needed, Daniel is gone. All Cassidy can do is stare, eyes wide and heart pounding in her chest, as Peter throws his phone against the wall, upturns tables and chairs and she winces at it all, still not processing what she has seen, what she knows, until he slumps to the floor in the centre of the destruction and she can finally move her feet, finally go to him.
It is as she slips her arms around him that he breaks down, that she sees her brother sob for the first time in her life and even though she wants to join him, wants to wail out her own grief, she cannot, because Peter needs her and she needs to be strong enough to help him. They sit in this way for what seems like an eternity, in the dingy room surrounded by upturned tables and chairs until he pulls away, stumbles to his feet, to the bar and leans over. For one gut wrenching moment she fears that he is reaching for the shotgun until she hears the jingle of the keys to their old red truck. He stares at her for a long moment and is gone.
She does not see him for three days and in that time all she can do is clean up after his rage and grieve quietly as she waits for news, keeping the bar running and doing her best to appear to be her old self. When Peter walks in he is haggard looking, eyes hollow and deep marks around his eyes showing that he has not slept since he left, nor has he shaved, his face coarse and far older now that it is lightly coated in stubble. She moves to go to him and he gestures, the hardness in his eyes a clear indication of his intention.
For the first time in ten years she does as he tells her, waits for him to come to her and there is something in the way that he walks, in the way that he moves, that fills her with dread and despair. This is not the brother that she knows so well, this is someone else, someone eaten by hatred and grief and the need for revenge.
"Call the Winchesters. Tell them we're in, all in," he hisses when he is close enough for her to hear and then he is on the way to the kitchen. She follows him, tries to ask him what he means by that and he turns on her, screams that the man he loves is dead, that he was killed by the one thing out there that he had allowed himself to believe might be good, that he has lost everything and he knows that slaughtering those responsible will not change anything, but the angels will be stopped if it kills him. Then he walks away from her, goes to his room and emerges moments later, bag in hand. She knows what he is going to do, knows that he is going to leave and follow in her father's footsteps and hunt, knows that she cannot stop him.
She does not watch him leave.
Cassidy thinks about what he has said to her when she returns to her bar, about making an open alliance with the Winchesters. She has resources, certainly a great deal more than they do, with a wealth of old books that more than likely contain information she would not know to look for. She has contacts as well, knows the people who own the other hunters safe havens across the country, people with collections like her own, her cousin deals in ammunition specifically designed for the hunting community out of the gas station across the road. Perhaps it is time to stop being neutral after all.
She picks up the phone, listens to the dial tone for a moment before punching in the number, listening to it ring once, twice and then the sleepy sound of Sam's voice as he answers, the roar of a car engine in the background. She tells him what has happened, hears a sick note in his voice when he responds and she knows that they cannot all come here and research if they are going to stop this, so she invites Sam to do it, says that Dean and Castiel will be safe and hears hesitation there. She needs him here, though, the younger one, to make her feel like she is doing something, needs him because he is not strange, is not belligerent, because he is diplomatic and already she is beginning to formulate an alternative plan, one that she will need Sam and his size and his diplomacy for.
It takes a while, but she convinces him, tells him that it is his job to get Dean to agree to it and can almost hear the roll of his eyes, he tells her he will see what he can do, there is no promise there, but she knows that she will see him in a few days.
SPN
Castiel is not sure who is more surprised that they are returning to Cassidy's bar so soon after she threw them out, him or Sam. Naturally Dean argued about it, the man can be quite stubborn when he sets his mind to it and Cassidy had damaged some part of his pride by kicking them out in the first place, but he eventually gave in to Sam's continued pushing and well argued points. The woman is supposed to have an amazing library and she has offered them the use of it, offered Sam the use of it. In the end that was why Dean gave in.
They have decided, after long discussion and more than one argument about the matter, that he and Dean will continue trying to find answers elsewhere, Sam has insisted that he will be alright on his own with Cassidy and as much as Dean worries and wants to keep an eye on his brother, Castiel knows that they cannot afford to let familial concerns and trust issues continue to keep them together. The fate of mankind would now appear to rest fully on the shoulders of the Winchester brothers and their damaged angel. The thought offers little comfort.
He is startled out of his thoughts by the sight of a lone man at the side of the road and the man resonates with the power of an angel. It causes Castiel to cry out to Dean to stop the car as he realises which angel it is, the one angel that he needs to talk to, the one he needs answers from. Raphael.
The inarticulate cry does the job the angel intended it to, causes Dean to slam on the brakes of the car, causing the tires to squeal as they grind to a halt and Castiel is opening the door and on his way over to the archangel before he can even register the angry glare that Dean is sending his way, simply tells them to stay where they are, that is too dangerous for them to follow him and he needs to do this alone, does not know if they even acknowledge it.
It strikes him, as he gets closer, that the way the archangel is standing shows that he has been waiting there for them, possibly for some time, and that unnerves Castiel, that it was so easy for Raphael to find him, to figure out where he will be and where he will go. All the same, he has to speak with the archangel, has to learn what truths he can from him though he can by no means compel him to talk. Still, Raphael inclines his head to him, the barest indication of respect from one much higher than Castiel, and the angel bows a little in return, not as low as he would once have done when faced with such blinding grace, but enough to show that he has not lost all sense of propriety in the face of his current predicament.
"You have come for the truth," Raphael's voice, though powerful, is soft, "have you not, Little One?" Castiel nods, does not trust himself to speak for fear that his voice will betray his eagerness and his aggravation at the name that the archangel insists on addressing him by.
To his amazement, Raphael speaks, tells him that the things he knows, the things he has seen his brothers do, is a burden upon his soul, one that he wishes to rid himself of that he might focus on the tasks he has been given. Castiel does not comment, though a part of him believes that he should refuse to hear this confession so that the archangel can begin to experience some measure of the anguish that he has. He allows the archangel to continue, arms limp at his sides, still not really sure what to do with them when he is not using his hands.
He does not know everything, Raphael is eager to admit that, to admit that he does not wish to know everything and that he has not been privy to all of the things that Michael and Gabriel will have discussed with each other to bring all of this to pass. He was there, however, when they all met with the garrison leaders to find an angel suitable for their purposes, an angel low enough that it would not be easy for him to catch wind of their plans, one low enough that such an accomplishment would draw attention to him and one who was low enough that a personality as forceful as Dean Winchester's would have the inevitable effect, that if the man wanted it enough and was persuasive enough, that angel would disobey.
Castiel wants to ask why, wants to ask if it was so important that Dean kill Lucifer that they sacrifice one of their own to ensure it is achieved and it seems that Raphael understands that because he answers them unasked. Tells Castiel that they needed one who would not question to lead Dean down the path, that they needed to keep Dean on the run and desperate so that he would not realise that killing Lucifer would hand the world over to the angels. Once that was done, it would simply be a case of taking it. Raphael had not considered that it would mean slaughtering his Father's favourite children, had believed that they would be free to bring peace to them all over time, admits that he has been a fool and says that Castiel's grace and Zachariah's death was marked by Michael as the 'unfortunate casualties of war.'
It makes something snap in the angel, makes him demand to know if Seraphiel, the sister who gave her life to save him, and Katie, the woman who was taken by Lucifer, were also "unfortunate casualties". He discovers from that question, that Seraphiel was placed as he was, too low to be a concern except that they knew that she experienced enough in the way of human emotion for her to know how they react to captured friends, they knew that she would follow that example. As for Katie, she was a damaged woman, beaten by her fiancee and easy manipulated once Seraphiel was gone, a calculated risk and one taken to force Dean into killing Lucifer.
Now that Castiel knows the truth, that he was chosen, not because he showed promise, but because he would be easy to manipulate he almost wishes that he did not, almost wishes that he had remained ignorant of it all. He is certain, though, that Michael intends to exterminate mankind, to reduce them to little more than slaves to his brethren.
He insists that they should stop it, that they should work together to prevent Michael from destroying their Father's work, cannot help the feeling of impotent rage that fills him when Raphael tells him that he will not, that even though he knows that it is wrong, that he does not need to be told it when Castiel hisses it into the night air and for the first time, Castiel sees the gentle archangel display wrath, blind eyes narrowing with it as he speaks, voice low and menacing, seeming to suck the very air from Castiel's lungs.
"What would you have me do, Little One? I have my orders, we all do. Would you have me disobey as you did? Your continued existence is not secure, Castiel, nor is that of the Winchesters. If Michael even suspects that you are trying to turn me, trying to turn others of our kind, against him he will have you all killed," he seems to sense Castiel's response, makes his reply before it can be voiced. "It matters not what he offered you in that field after the death of our fallen brother, he made that offer because he foolishly believed that you would wish to return to the loving embrace of those who tortured you. I am not so foolish as our brother, Little One, and I am not so deceived as you." He shakes his head and is gone and Castiel can breathe again as he starts to understand.
He begins to understand how Dean felt in the green room, begins to understand his frustration and anger, because he never once considered Dean's position in all of this, Dean's point of view. Now he has, now he does and for the first time he is glad he has gone through everything that he has, even the torture and fear and pain, because it has given him something precious, a chance to chose his path, a chance to do the right thing and the ability to see it all from both sides.
This is how he knows that Raphael is not angry, his is afraid and somehow Castiel needs to find a way to turn that to his advantage.
Liberation, a moral charade
For the cause is a part of your sacred lie
Damnation a moment away in all the world's eyes
It's the doom of us all
We give in to control for the sake of your sacred lie
Complications abound
You'll get used to the sound of alarms in your life
Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review that can show how much you care.
Artemis