Michael sat with Raphael and the other angels in a private box overlooking the main floor. They had retreated there once the denizens of the club became too numerous. The air was, as Raphael put it, much cleaner up here. Michael had to agree on this assessment. He also found it uneasy how willingly the humans gave in to sin here. After he set all to rights in Heaven, he would once again focus his efforts on shepherding the flock. Hell had reigned over Earth for far too long.
A demon entered from a side doorway with refreshments. Though Michael felt no inclination to eat or drink, he entertained the possibility for appearance's sake. Yet when the demon set down some cold bottles of draft beer, he was curiously compelled to take one.
"How much longer must we wait?" Raphael complained after the demon left. He sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded at his lap. "The corruption here is an affront to us all."
"I have given my word to Crowley," Michael informed him calmly. "I do not intend to go back on it."
"And are you so certain he will agree to our terms?" Raphael asked, flicking a speck of dust from his pant leg.
"He is self-serving enough to understand keeping Castiel and the others here is not in his best interests."
"Do you still plan to allow this establishment to remain?"
"Yes," Michael answered. "It will be under close supervision, of course. I can do nothing for the souls Castiel has already condemned to Hell, but we will look out for the rest. They will not fall into sin."
Raphael grunted. "Preventing a human from giving in to sin is far more difficult than tempting one. Sin has even tested the strength of angels," he added with disdain.
"Which is why we must remain ever vigilant." Michael gestured to two of the angels seated with them. They nodded and vanished.
"Where have you sent them?"
"All of our kin have been accounted for save Gabriel and Balthazar. I am ensuring that they will not be able to leave once they are found," he explained.
"Gabriel," Raphael repeated with a sneer. "You should have had him dragged back to Heaven and locked away like Lucifer. He was at your mercy."
"Precisely. He was at my mercy," he reminded him.
Raphael leaned forward. "Michael-"
"Enough," he interrupted. "You worry too much, brother. Everything is going according to my design. We will return to Heaven as a family once again."
After Raphael had fallen silent Michael gazed down at the darkened stage. It was his chosen battlefield for announcing a new era, not just for Heaven and Hell but humanity as a whole. But first he needed to make an example. Castiel's blood- and Sam Winchester's, for that matter- would pave the way for the new world order.
His right hand abruptly curled into a fist. The action was so startling Michael was glad Raphael had not seen. As he forced his hand open, having to apply more control than usual, he glimpsed his distorted reflection on the beer bottle. Saw the anger and determination shining from eyes that were not his.
If you hurt either of them I will kill you. You hear me, you flying ass monkey? I will kill you.
Michael's lip curled as he exerted his will over Dean Winchester. It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually the soul was quieted. The archangel studied his reflection, just to be sure, before setting the bottle aside. He flexed his hands, slowly.
The sooner he did away with Castiel the better it would be, for all of them.
Dean sat on the top stair, his back to the door leading to Cas's dressing room. So far the music had blocked out things he didn't want to hear, but it did nothing for his mood. He was impatient for them to finish the job. He wanted- needed- to get back to the real Purgatory. Castiel was still alone in that place. Benny too, though Dean's concern for him wasn't the same. The vampire had been there for who knows how long; if he hadn't been taken out then, he wasn't going down now.
So Dean had no choice but to turn his thoughts back to the club Purgatory. He'd seen some crazy things over the years, and none of them held a candle to this place. It was going to make one hell of a story. All he needed was the end.
"What a surprise to find you here," remarked a voice behind Dean.
He was on his feet in an instant, the angel blade in hand.
Balthazar lifted an amused brow. "Nice to see you're prepared."
Dean scowled. "What the hell do you want?" he asked, putting the blade away.
The look the angel sent him was one of shock. "Believe it or not, Dean, I'm not looking for a fight with you. I'm here to help, just as I promised."
Though he trusted him about as far as he could throw him, Dean took a step back. "So? How are you going to help?"
"Michael's posted angels all over the place. He's looking to keep us in here. So I thought I'd make them all go away," he explained, patting his pocket.
Dean could see something bulging from it, remembered the salt he had tried to use on him when he first arrived. "Wait, you can't do that," he protested. "That thing will hurt all the regular people too."
Balthazar just stared at him. "And?"
"And I'm not going to let you do it," Dean countered roughly. "You wanna take care of the angels? Banish them."
"And banish myself in the process. Yes, I can see how that would work," Balthazar drawled.
"Cas did that once before and was fine," Dean told him, choosing to omit the small fact that immediately afterward Cas lost his mojo. Hell maybe Balthazar losing his might improve his humility.
To this he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he conceded. "I'll take another page from Cas's book. Can't see the harm in it," he added with a little shrug. As Dean sat back on the stair the angel gestured toward the door. "Have you seen him yet?"
"No. Just waiting on him to be...done," he grumbled, turning away.
He felt Balthazar's eyes on him, could almost see his smile. "And waiting was never your strong suit was it? Although I hear very differently when it comes to matters in-"
"If you say bedroom, so help me-" Dean threatened, glowering over at him.
Balthazar smiled again. "I was going to say hunting. Really, Dean, you've been tense this whole time. Maybe Cas should help relax you."
"Look, you ass- I got enough of that shit from Gabriel. I don't need it from you too," Dean snapped.
The humorous smile faded. "Gabriel hasn't come back yet?"
Dean turned away again and ran his hand down the length of this face, sighed irritably. "No. Nice job on breaking the horn, by the way," he complained.
"Don't worry. He'll have no trouble finding the pieces. Well," he commented, sighing as if he was disappointed. "As much as I'd love to keep you company up here, I've got business to attend to. Tell Cas I'll be ready." With that he vanished in a rush of wings.
Dean sighed again, glad he was gone and resumed waiting in silence.
The sound of the door opening startled him from a doze. Bleary eyed, Dean turned round in time to see a woman emerge, a bag at her shoulder, her shoes in her hand. At seeing him she flashed a smile that indicated she liked what she saw as she headed for the stairs.
"First time?" she asked.
Dean didn't know what to say to this, so he just stared. "Uh..."
"Oh, it's wonderful," she enthused, patting his shoulder gently. "You will never, ever have a better experience, or a better lover."
Dean knew his expression was becoming more and more anxious, and he forced a smile. "Right. Thanks."
The woman smiled again, squeezed his upper arm in farewell and started down the stairs. Dean watched her go, blew out a long breath. The sooner he got out of this place the better.
At hearing the sound of another voice at the bottom of the stairwell, Dean jumped up and hurried to Cas's room. When he slipped inside and closed the door, he didn't see Cas anywhere. He called his name once, twice. After a moment Cas appeared, a robe loosely tied at his waist. Other than the lipstick marks on his cheek and neck, the tousled hair, he looked perfectly calm.
His face brightened at seeing Dean. "Has Gabriel returned yet?"
"No. Are you, uh, done for the night? We gotta talk," he informed him.
Castiel was about to answer, but the sound of a knock at the door interrupted them. Dean jumped at the sound; when Cas gestured toward the bathroom Dean acknowledged him and darted out of sight. He pressed himself to the wall, listening as Cas conversed with the visitor. After some moments Cas appeared in the doorway.
"Well?" Dean prompted.
"The play will be starting soon. What did you want to tell me?"
Dean took in Cas's appearance, managed a tiny laugh. He hoped it didn't sound as nervous to Cas as it did to him. "Um. Do you think you could...?"
Realization entered Cas's gaze, and he nodded. "Yes, of course. I will dress."
"Good idea," he agreed. With that he quickly retreated into the other room to let Cas use the bathroom. The water started running soon after. Once he found the jug of holy oil he flopped onto the couch, leaned his head back. Dammit. He'd been here so long the place was affecting him.
The bathroom door opened a short time later, a cloud of steam preceding Castiel's arrival. He had put on the familiar suit and trench coat, allowing Dean to relax. Focus, man. Focus.
"What did you want to tell me?" he asked as he sat beside him. He listened in silence while Dean explained about Crowley nabbing him, Sam's preparing a devil's trap, Balthazar's plans. But when he mentioned Michael participating in the play Cas's face paled a little, and he quickly looked away.
Dean was instantly alert. "What's wrong? Hey, don't back out now, Cas. We're going to finish this."
"I understand." Cas drew in a deep breath. "Michael...he came to see me just before my shift started."
Dean frowned. "What the hell for?"
"To intimidate me, I suppose. I'll be fine," he assured him. "I want us both trapped in the circle. He will not be able to hurt me."
Dean nodded. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Cas exploding with the snap of Michael's fingers. The memory of Lucifer doing that to the angel he knew still had the power to send his heart into his stomach. "Got any idea what you'll do next?"
"Yes. I know how I can reach him."
After a moment's thought Dean's face softened. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "The bond."
Cas nodded. His expression turned thoughtful, his tone quiet. "I believe it still exists."
"Believe?" Dean echoed. "You think it's gone?"
"It's difficult to say. Back before the Apocalypse, I could hear you- him- call for me no matter how much distance was between us. But after Michael claimed him as his vessel, and I surrendered half my Grace to Crowley, I couldn't hear him anymore. And I...I've forgotten what it looks like."
Dean furrowed his brow. "It?"
Castiel met his eyes. The world seemed to shrink in on itself as Dean was drawn in by that mesmerizing gaze. Remembered all the other times he'd been looked at like that. His heart twisted with pain.
At recognizing this Cas's face reflected sorrow, and he looked away. "Dean's soul," he murmured. "I used to see it so clearly. I think that if I can remember its glow, I will find him again."
Dean wasn't going to pretend he knew the first thing about seeing souls. This was something he and his Castiel (his?) had never discussed. It, much like a lot of things between them, remained under the surface, always there but yet to be acknowledged. Knowing it was the complete opposite with this reality's Castiel and Dean made him feel more than a little envious.
It took him a moment to find his voice. "I guess you can't see it in Michael."
Cas shook his head. "No. And yours is not the same," he said before Dean could suggest otherwise. "My bond is not with you."
Dean leaned back, tapped his fingers on his knee. "So how will you use it if you can't remember what it looks like?"
"I will try to weaken him first," Cas explained. "Despite what Michael said to me, I believe Dean is still there."
Dean hated to ask, but someone had to play devil's advocate. "And if weakening him doesn't work?"
Castiel lowered his gaze. "He could kill me," he murmured. "Even with the holy fire circling us, he could still do it."
This didn't sit so well with Dean. "You're okay with dying?"
"Yes." The answer came so readily, and Dean's fist clenched in response. Just like the Castiel he knew.
"The important thing is for Gabriel to use the horn," Can went on. "It won't matter if I'm dead then; our plan will have worked."
"Plan. Right." Dean snorted. The smile that tugged at his lips was bitter. "That's how it is, huh? Even if you get through to him, it's all going to hell anyway. What do you really want to happen, Cas?" he asked, looking over at him.
The question seemed to confuse him. "I don't understand."
Restless now, Dean shot to his feet. He started to pace in front of the couch. His thoughts seemed to come apart, fueled by an emotion he couldn't identify. "What if you didn't go through with the horn plan? You get Dean back, Sam gets him back, and you all can take this place down like normal hunters. You can't tell me it's not what you want."
During this passionate recital, Cas's face had gone pale. His mouth opened, very slightly, and he glanced away. Dean watched him wring his hands together. "What I want doesn't matter."
"Bullshit," Dean snapped.
The angel lifted his gaze to him. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. Remorse now shone in his eyes. "Of course it's not what I want. It's what I have to accept."
"Humor me then," he demanded. "Come on, Cas- I gotta believe that there's a chance for happiness for one of us."
The instant he said this he instantly regretted it. He hadn't meant to make the comparison. He didn't want to admit that so many things had yet to be resolved between him and the Castiel he knew.
Cas studied him for a time. Dean could read sympathetic understanding in his eyes, knew that if he was asked, he'd deflect the questions simply because he had no answers. And it hurt as much as not knowing if his friend was still alive.
A tap on the door. "Twenty minutes, Castiel."
Cas responded to the voice as he rose to his feet. Dean could still see the questions in his eyes, but he just nodded slowly. "We should both head for the stage. Give me the holy oil," he requested.
Dean hesitated for just a moment- he was basically handing Cas the means to cage himself- felt regret at the necessity of it and passed it over. Cas's fingers curled over the top to gently pull it from his grasp.
Their eyes locked. As he tucked the bottle against his side Dean was reminded of Castiel's stony expression in other instances. Knew that no matter what he said, or what Cas really felt, he would not turn from this course. He could do no less.
He smiled then, slightly. "You ready to bring the house down?"
Cas regarded him curiously. "What we're doing doesn't require the dismantling of the club."
The typical Cas answer exasperated as much as it amused. He gave a little disbelieving laugh. "You can't tell me that after all this time with humans, you haven't heard anyone say that before."
Cas considered his answer. "No. I'm still having some difficulty understanding why breaking a leg before a show is a good thing."
Dean chuckled. "I never got that either," he admitted. He studied Cas's face for a moment to gauge his readiness. "All right. Let's do it."
Castiel nodded and touched his shoulder. As the dressing room transformed into the area backstage, Dean realized that he was right not to tell Cas about the letter. This was it. Nothing could distract them now.
It just didn't make him feel any better.