"That's uh..." Jackie sat at their kitchen table across from Leon as they enjoyed a drink while he'd explained what the MCRT had told him that day, "I really find it hard to believe they'd conspire such an elaborate hoax, baby. Are you sure there isn't some kind of office prank going on?"
"Jethro isn't usually one to participate in things like that. But I've got no idea on this one."
"Well, I find it hard to believe that they've all collectively lost their minds. With the same corroborating story, nonetheless."
"Are you suggesting I take it seriously? If it is a prank, then that's exactly what they want me to do. And if it is a prank...well, I still did what I was supposed to do."
"Yes, you did," she said as she stood and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. "Just relax for the night, baby. It's gotta be some kinda prank. What else could it be?"
Leon smiled and stood so he could return the embrace properly. "Other than them all bein' crazy? You're probably right."
"I usually am," she grinned. "Come on; let's go sit on the couch and I'll give you a back rub." She pulled him along toward the living room. But once she was in the room, she gasped, and Leon looked toward the culprit.
Standing in the middle of the room was a man he'd never seen before, dressed in a suit and trench coat. "Who are you, and what are you doin' in my house?" Leon asked as he stepped protectively in front of his wife.
"I am Castiel and I've come here to convince you that your agents are not playing a...prank, as you call it. Nor are they mentally unstable."
"Breaking into a home isn't the best way to go about doing that," he replied.
Castiel cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, "I didn't break in. As you should be able to surmise, your alarm system has not been engaged, nor have any of your locks been touched." The director glanced over at the door to see the deadbolt still in place.
"How the hell did you get in here, then?"
"I arrived. I would leave and knock on the door, but I doubt you'd let me back in."
"Damn straight about that," Leon replied. "Why are you here?"
"I told you."
"Yeah, ya did. Now tell me how you plan to convince me."
"For you, I cannot say anything to make you believe. I can only show you." As he spoke, the room echoed with the sound of thunder and filled with flashes of bright light and he revealed his wings to the couple.
Jackie clung to Leon's arm as her eyes filled with tears. Her husband couldn't help but to take a cautious step back. It took him a moment to realize what, exactly, he was seeing. The man standing before them was actually...an angel...
11 00 11 00 11
"Damnit, Cas!" Dean said after the angel appeared in the living room to the worried faces of the Winchester brothers and their surrogate father. "We talked about this; buddy-system, remember?"
"I didn't go walking about, Dean," he defended. "I had something I needed to take care of. I came straight home."
"And you didn't think to let us know beforehand? Do you know how worried we were?" Dean paced. Sam couldn't help but to smirk at how his brother sounded like a nagging parent. To an angel, nonetheless.
Castiel cocked his head, "I was only gone for a matter of minutes. I didn't mean to cause you to worry."
"What was so damn important?" he stopped in front of the angel.
"Ensuring cooperation," he replied.
"With who?" Bobby asked.
"The man who Gibbs and his team answer to. They were being unjustly reprimanded."
"Jeez, you didn't kill him, did you?" Dean gave him an incredulous look.
Castiel narrowed his eyes, "Why would I do such a thing?"
"I dunno, Cas. 'Ensuring cooperation' is like a code-term the Mob uses."
"What's going on?" Tony asked as he came down the stairs after hearing the argument.
"Cas went off on some mission alone," Dean told him.
"Dean," Sam pulled his attention, "Don't you think you're going a little overboard, here?" Sam raised a brow. "He's back and he's okay."
"Yeah, but what about next time, huh? We've got some crazy psycho demon-god-chick roamin' around out there and we don't know where she is, or if she's found a vessel, or what she plans on doing. Last thing we need is for one of us to go missing again. Especially Cas. If somethin' happens to him and one of us gets sick or hurt..." his voice tapered off before he walked nervously across the room. "Hell, Sammy...we almost lost you. I'm not gonna watch anyone suffer anymore because of some stupid crusade!" he directed the last line toward Castiel.
"Dean, I promise you I will not leave without someone, next time," Castiel vowed. "I apologize for not following the buddy-system rule."
Dean took a breath and glanced around the room, calming himself; or at least trying to. "Good," he replied as he made his way to the armchair and sat.
"Everything okay down here?" McGee asked as he came down the stairs.
"Yeah," Tony replied, looking back at him. "Just a uh...family feud. Everything's okay now."
"Okay... Is Ziva still downstairs doing laundry?"
"Far as I know. I think Gibbs and Ducky are down there, too," Tony replied.
"Thanks," McGee headed toward the basement.
Sam recalled something, in that moment. "Hey, Tony," he said as he stood and started toward the kitchen, "I'm gonna grab a beer. You want one?"
"Uh...yeah, sure," he followed.
Dean was about to ask for one, but Sam gave him a look that for some reason only they could comprehend, told him he had an agenda with this plan. Bobby stood from the couch, "C'mon, Dean. Let's go see if we can't weasel a shot of bourbon or two from Gibbs."
Sam was grateful that Bobby seemed to understand what he was planning to talk to Tony about. He wasn't really sure Dean should be around to hear it brought up. And he definitely didn't need him knowing he still thought about it.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be lectured?" Tony asked with a nervous smirk as he sat down at the table with his beer.
Sam let out a small laugh, "There's not gonna be a lecture. I just uh...thought it'd be good to talk to someone that's kinda been through the same experience I did, when I watched my brother die...the way he did. I don't exactly know anyone else who's actually seen that kinda thing happen. Especially to someone they care about."
Tony met his eyes, "You still think about that?"
"Not something you can easily forget," he smirked grimly.
"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, "I get why you still think about it. I mean, Dean was gone for a long time. Tim was...well, he was brought back the same night. Really just minutes afterward. You had months of living that over and over with no good outcome in the end until he came back. Until a couple nights ago, every time he died again in the dream, I'd wake up. But night before last, I stayed asleep long enough to watch Cas bring him back again. Last night, I didn't even dream about it."
"You'll have it again, I'm sure," Sam told him. "It really sucks. But it does get easier. You just..." he paused as he looked down at the bottle in his hands, "You can't stop them from coming if you carry around the guilt." He met his eyes again with a sense of knowing. "When Dean died, all I could think about for all those months...and even after he came back, for a long time, was the fact that I couldn't stop it. After everything I'd tried before and after; nothing I did, no matter how hard I'd tried...I couldn't stop it and I couldn't bring him back. And to add to that, the fact that he was suffering down there..." he looked down again. "What he went through... Every day, Tony. What he went through, I can't even tell you how it must've been for him," he met his eyes again, "But I know what I'd imagined. And it was pretty damn bad."
Tony took a long swig from his beer, then quietly set it down on the table, "Guess I shouldn't really complain, huh?" he smirked.
"No, that's not what I meant at all," Sam shook his head. "What I'm saying is, even though I know Dean's okay now, that he isn't dead and he isn't...deformed or scarred or in danger of being attacked that way again, it doesn't make those images go away. Sure, it's less painful now that he's back. But most of the pain...it's from the guilt. Nothing else."
Tony's eyes darted around the table top for a few long moments before meeting Sam's eyes again. "How do you stop feeling guilty?" he asked quietly. "Everyone keeps tellin' me it's not my fault and there was nothing I could do... from the attack to the kidnapping and the possession. But I still...I feel it still. How do I stop?"
Sam snorted, "If you figure it out, let me know," he emphasized with a tip of his bottle. "Of course, your friends are right; you have nothing to feel guilty about. None of that was in any way your fault. What happened to Dean...that was all me."
Tony narrowed his eyes, "What are you talking about?"
"He basically killed himself to bring me back. Literally he traded his life for mine. How is it not?"
"Did you kill yourself?" he asked.
"What?"
"I heard you were stabbed in the back," he said as he leaned back in his chair, "That's a pretty impressive way to off yourself."
"I didn't kill myself."
"Then how is it your fault?"
"Didn't you hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard you perfectly," he let out a small laugh. "You were killed. Dean made the decision to make a deal to bring you back. Dean made the decision. Not you. And he didn't make it because you decided to die. Your spirit didn't come back and taunt him into making the deal. He chose to. That's not your fault."
"But he should've let me-"
"What? Let you stay dead? Yeah, he could have. That's my point. He had a choice and he made the one he did. You said so yourself, you did everything you could to get him out of it. And you did everything you could think of to bring him back once he was gone. Guilt is something you should feel when you didn't do enough; when there was something you had a choice in; when there was that one thing you didn't try. By definition alone, you have no goddamn reason to feel guilty at all."
An epiphany of emotions ran through Sam's head in that moment. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It was as if someone had just lifted a sack of bricks from his chest; one he'd been carrying for as long as he could remember... And all with a few heartfelt sentences from a man he'd only met a short time ago.
He opted to laugh. "This was supposed to be about making you see reason."
"Well," Tony slapped on a grin, "You can ask anyone here; I've got a horrible problem with accepting relief from fault when I've already got it figured out in my head that I'm, on some level, to blame."
"You didn't tell him to back away," Sam said. It only took a moment for Tony to realize what he was talking about. The grin slowly began to fade. "You would've stepped in front of that dog and let it rip you apart to save him. Just like I would've done for Dean, if I could have." Tony's gaze dropped somewhere between him and Sam. "You had no reason to even consider he was in danger standing in the driveway for a couple of minutes. Ziva had been out running for an hour, after all. So...looks like you figured wrong. You're gonna have to let this one go," he narrowed his eyes as he watched the gears turn in Tony's head. In that moment, Sam didn't want anything more than to do for Tony what he'd just done for him...
11 00 11 00 11
Gibbs was in the middle of washing the glasses he'd brought up from the basement once everyone had gone off to bed for the night, when he realized Castiel was watching him from the living room doorway. "Somethin' I can help ya with?" he asked.
"No," Castiel replied. "But if there is something I can help you with, I wouldn't mind doing so."
"You offerin' to do dishes?" he smirked.
"If that would help."
Gibbs shook his head, "I think I've got this. But thanks." The angel turned his head, focusing on nothing, really. Gibbs glanced over at him, "Somethin' on your mind?"
"Always. A great many things," he looked back over at Gibbs.
Gibbs smirked again, "Anything particularly pressing at the moment?" he elaborated as he dried his hands on a small towel.
"The intentions of Hel," he replied.
Before Gibbs could respond, there was a knock at the door. He looked down at his watch before glancing up at Cas with a bit of apprehension. "I'm not expecting anyone. It's late."
"The man at the door means you no harm," Castiel told him.
Hesitantly, Gibbs made his way to the door and opened it. "Leon?"
"I just sent my wife and kids to my mother-in-law's," the director told him. He looked a bit past Gibbs to Castiel who stood behind him, then back to Gibbs. "Your angel friend convinced me you're not a bunch of lunatics."
"It's a bit late, Leon. Ya couldn't tell me this over the phone?"
"Guess I needed to convince myself I was actually awake. And I suppose...to make sure you were up. I'm revoking the order for evaluation. You and your team are free to use the office. But I wanna know everything, Jethro."
Gibbs turned his head to look at Castiel. "What do you need to do to him so he can come in here?"
11 00 11 00 11
It was dark. The cemetery was bathed in moonlight, but only enough to see silhouettes of the gravestones and statues. The cool night air caused a fine mist as it hit the warm earth below it.
One of the statue's silhouettes began to move... It wasn't a statue at all. It stood from its crouched position on the gravestone, holding its arms out beside it, then opened its eyes. They were white; glowing at first.
Then it lifted its arms. Below it, the earth in front of the gravestone began to move; pulsate. Something was pushing up from underneath. It broke, and a hand pushed its way up out of it, grabbing, clawing at the dirt...
McGee sprung upright from where he'd been lying asleep; breathing fast from the frightening vision in his dream.
"Wha's wrong, Probie?" Tony said groggily as he was pulled from his own sleep. The first rays of sunrise spilled in through the window.
"I think I..." he started, but his voice shook, causing him to take a moment to collect himself.
Tony sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, "What is it? You okay?" he asked with concern. "Nightmare?"
Tim looked over at him with furrowed brow, "I think I saw Hel..."
11 00 11 00 11
Tbc...