Chapter 19: Lucifer Rising, Part 1

Saint Mary's Convent: 1972

The stone room, round and chill and ancient, was spackled with blood. In some areas the runoff was so thick it formed sticky puddles that pooled around what used to be nuns but were now just sad hunks of flesh and torn clothing. Limbs were strewn across the floor like toys, entrails hanging noose-like over pews and seeping pale fluids into the pages of destroyed bibles.

Draped over the alter was a mostly-intact nun, her corpse positioned with its arms flung out, head tilted upside-down. Out of the silence, Lucifer's voice whispered eerily through the lips of her disemboweled body. "I am here, my son," it hissed, strangely distorted.

Azazel, kneeling on the floor in still-warm blood, let out a sigh of relief. "It's so good to hear your voice, Padre. I have been searching for you for so long. You have no idea." He trembled for a moment, hardly able to believe that he was finally here, then continued fervently. "The others have lost faith. Dickless heathens. But not me."

"You've done well," the voice murmured sibilantly, the nun's mouth moving like a doll's.

Azazel paused, unsure of how to continue. He licked his lips; they tasted of liquid iron, warm and sticky from where blood had splashed over his host's skin. "So… how do I bust you out?"

"Lilith."

Azazel gave a nervous chuckle. "Lilith? Father, she's... trapped neck-deep in the pit. It won't be easy."

"Lilith," the voice insisted. "Lilith can break the seals."

"Yeah, okay," Azazel said, trying to temper his usual sarcastic, impatient nature. "But what do I do?"

The smallest hesitation; the nun's eyes rolled in her head, the mouth hanging slack. Then it moved again, the words surprising the loyal demon. "You have two tasks, my son. First you must find me a child. A very special child."

Azazel's eyes turned a burnished, sick yellow, and he grinned, eager for the challenge, the hunt. "And the second?"

"I have seen what will come to pass. The Halfling will be born. When it is time, you must bring me it, and that which can bind it, that which was forged in the fires of heaven. With these I will ravage the land."

Eli stared for a moment in shock at the empty place where Dean had just been standing. Then her face grew thunderous.

"Angels," she growled, slamming her fist into the wall. "God damn ANGELS!"

"What's all the ruckus?" Bobby asked, emerging from the kitchen. "Where's Dean?"

Eli looked at him in frustrated hopelessness. "He's gone. They took him."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bobby demanded. "Do your angel mojo thing and find him!"

"Don't rush me," Eli snapped. She walked over to the couch, crossed her legs under her, and concentrated, closing her eyes and screwing up her nose. After a few minutes she sighed.

"I can't get a signal. It looks like all towers are down."

"Well, try again," Bobby said, sounding frantic. He ripped the dirty ball cap off of his head and twisted it anxiously in his hands like he was throttling it. "There has to be something you can do. You can't be completely useless."

"Ouch, Bobby, thanks for that," she said, shooting him a look. He sighed, sinking into a chair and groaning.

"Shit, Eli, you know what I mean. You're the only thing we got now. Sam off with that demon, Dean gone…world is ending and we're out of heroes. So I'm hoping that having a half-angel on our side will count for something."

Eli rocked her head back against the couch, her hair falling into her face and tinting her vision yellow. "No, you're right. I am useless. But maybe I can contact someone who's not."

She closed her eyes, trying to find Castiel's unmistakable glimmer, but all she saw was darkness. No, not darkness: a barrier. She pushed against it gently with her mind. It didn't budge.

She sighed. "Give me time, Bobby."

Hours passed. Eli all but gave up hope, finally abandoning her attempt to use her powers and instead just calling his name.

"Cas!" she yelled, pacing the carpet. "Cas, where are you, you son of a bitch! Castiel! Cas!"

"Can you stop that racket?" Bobby shouted from the kitchen. "Your mojo stuff didn't work, you think if you yell he'll hear you?"

"It's a form of prayer," said a familiar voice, and Eli spun around to see Castiel standing a few feet away, looking exhausted. "Hello, Elijah."

"Cas," she said, taking a step toward him. "Where's Dean? I want to see him."

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "I will take you now."

He started to reach out but she jerked away, surprised. "Wait, what? Just like that? After the disappearing act and the mental barriers and everything engineered to keep me out, now you're just going to take me to him?"

"It is what you want, isn't it?" he asked, a little too flatly. Eli shook her head.

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean…" She paused and took a deep breath. "Cas, I don't trust you right now. What's going on?"

He stared evenly at her, his blue eyes pained, the furrow in his brow more prominent than ever. "I have been ordered to take you to him."

Now Eli was really scared. "What?" she asked, skittering backward nervously as he began to approach with single-minded intent. "Ordered? By who? Why?"

"Does it matter?" he asked coldly. "They are my orders and I obey them." He was now only a foot away. Eli tried to teleport but found that she couldn't. He looked at her, something sad lingering in the curve of his mouth. "I told you this day would come, Eli," he said, then reached out and touched her and they were gone.

They appeared in one of the strangest places Eli had ever seen. It was a white room, pristine, edged in gold and hung with strategically placed paintings. In the center of it, like a bizarre still life, was a long table heaped high with beer on one end and burgers on the other.

"Eli?"

Dean dropped the pedestal he was using to smash out the wall, not even noticing as the hole he had created magically fixed itself. Eli rushed to him.

"Dean!" she cried, impulsively throwing her arms around his shoulders. "Thank God."

"Don't thank Him just yet," Dean said darkly. "How are you here?" He glanced suspiciously at Castiel, who was still standing stiffly on the other side of the room and watching the exchange through narrowed eyes. "I thought I wasn't allowed visitors."

"Apparently I'm not a visitor," she said, turning around momentarily to glare at Castiel, whose expression didn't change. "I think right now I'm as much of a prisoner as you are."

"What? Why?" He directed his last question at the angel, but after a moment of silence looked at Eli again. "Well, I'm just glad you're here. This place is freaking me out."

"I know," Eli said, stepping away from Dean to inspect the walls with interest. The gold edging looked real; she ran a finger along the white paint and the smell of lavender and jasmine wafted up. "It's like, a little too clean."

"Well, you know what they say," said a new voice. They spun around to see Zachariah standing there, his hands spread expansively. "Cleanliness is next to Godliness."

Eli glowered. She would recognize that smug tone anywhere. "What is going on, Zachariah?" she asked, instinctively crossing her arms as if shield herself from him. "Why am I here?"

He merely smiled at her, like kindly grandfather about to impart a special treat. "Merely to say Thank You for a job well done."

She raised her eyebrows, not buying it for a minute. Something about him bothered her, at an almost molecular level, with his ingratiating smile and sharp, watery eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Dean is here, isn't he?" he asked, walking towards her with a bounce in his step, looking supremely relaxed and confident. "In one piece, happy, healthy, fit. Barely a scratch on him! You've done your job well, Elijah. Now it's time for you to receive your reward."

He held open his hand, letting something dangle from it. It was a small pendant hanging from a silver cord. Inside the pendant swirled all of the colors on the earth, and then some, like a tiny universe trapped in crystal. It was beautiful.

"Is that…?" Eli asked, edging closer to inspect it.

"A grace. You bet it is. But not just any grace. Your grace. Especially designed for you, Elijah. It's time for you to get your wings. All you have to do," he said, smiling reassuringly at her, "is say yes."

Eli tore her gaze away from its hypnotic movement to glare suspiciously. "Why now?" she asked in a wary voice.

"I already told you," he said, taking another step, dangerously close to invading her personal space.

"Yeah yeah, job well done, I heard you," she said, moving away and holding out her hands. "But it doesn't make sense. Becoming an angel should make me more powerful, right? Then why did I have to run around on my piss ass powers for a whole season? I was useless in protecting the Winchesters half the time. Wouldn't it have made more sense to give me a grace, oh I don't know, before all the seals were broken?"

"We had to be sure of your loyalty," Zachariah said, a little too smoothly. "Which you have proven."

"Have I?" Eli asked shrewdly. "I stood up against you guys when it came to Anna. I punched Castiel in the face. I insulted Uriel in every degree possible. I sided with Dean and Sam over the angels every time I had a decision to make. How is that proving my loyalty?"

Zachariah was getting exasperated. "We're offering you what you want, Elijah. We know what's in your heart and that you deserve this. Now stop whining like a spoiled child. Don't you want to belong somewhere? Don't you want to spend your life fighting evil? You'll be able to help Dean in his quest much more as an angel than you can in your current piddling form." He paused, looking at her piously. "Don't you want to meet your father? I know for a fact that he's very anxious to meet you."

Eli was torn. She glanced at Dean. He shrugged, as if to say, what the hell are you looking at me for?

"What about Dean?" she asked, turning back to Zachariah. "What's your plan for him?"

"That will all be explained once you take the grace, Elijah," he said, stepping very close to her and shaking the chain so that the crystal bobbed, the colors swirling inside like a tiny ocean.

Eli looked at it thoughtfully, her hand coming up to cup the grace. Then she risked a glance at Castiel, standing just beyond Zachariah's shoulder. He met her gaze, widened his eyes fractionally, and with the slightest, barely perceptible movement, shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'm gonna pass," Eli said, stepping back and letting the crystal fall from her palm.

Zachariah's face was a bizarre combination of extreme confusion and fury. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Yeah, no, I dunno. Doesn't seem my thing. All those rules and obedience. Trust me, you wouldn't want me up there," she said, trying to sound lighthearted and cheeky, but in reality she was scared shitless at the look in Zachariah's eyes.

"I offer you your dreams and you say 'I'm gonna pass?'" he said, the hint of a snarl in his voice.

"Who said they were my dreams?" Eli shot back. "You angels act like you are the be-all-and-end-all, but from what I've seen you're all just a bunch of stick-up-your-asses, obedient, can't think for yourselves douchebags. And I'm sorry, Zach, that is not my dream. I'd rather be an abomination than your butt monkey."

Zachariah gaped at her. "You ungrateful little…"

"Freak, thing, abomination, stain, curse, blah blah blah. I've heard all of your insults before. So why don't you just accept politely that I'm not going to say yes and tell us how we're going to ice Lilith."

Zachariah puffed air from his lips in a frustrated sigh and then drew himself up, turning to the angel behind him.

"You can go now, Castiel," he said in an authoritative tone. Castiel shot Eli one last look, a slight nervousness betraying itself on his previously impassive features, and disappeared.

"Now," Zachariah said, and there was something in his manner that felt wrong, deeply deeply wrong. Eli felt like a girl lost in the city at night, running down alleys and around hairpin turns, and Zachariah was the dark man waiting at the end with a smile and a butcher knife. "I'm afraid that I have to clear up some tiny misconceptions for the two of you."

Dean must have felt it to, that inherent send of wrongness, because he immediately amped up the aggression, the line of his shoulders tightening, the veins of his neck standing out. "What misconceptions?"

Zachariah folded his hands in front of him and tipped his head, staring at them with impassive, colorless eyes. "You're not going to… ice Lilith."

Dean and Eli shared a look, then simultaneously exclaimed: "What?"

"Lilith's going to break the final seal," Zachariah explained patiently and not without pride. "Fait accompli at this point. Train's left the station."

"But we can stop..." Dean started, but then he understood. Eli finished the sentence for him.

"They don't want to stop it," she said softly, her words laced with something close to hatred. Zachariah just beamed at her smugly.

"Nope. Never did. The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kids, to a theater near you."

"What was all that crap about saving seals?" Dean demanded. The look of betrayal and horror on his face was almost pathetic, like he was an animal about to be put down. Zachariah let out a small, condescending chuckle, smoothing the lines of his vessel's tailor-made suit.

"Our grunts on the ground - we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?"

"But why?" Eli cried.

Zachariah shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Why not?"

"Um, because it's the fucking apocalypse?" Eli drawled harshly, barely able to speak. Her jaw was clenched so tight that it made her whole face hurt, all of her energy focused on the act of staying calm, to not fly into a useless rage.

Zachariah shook his head. "Poor name, bad marketing - puts people off. All it is a battle. And we like our chances. When our side wins - and we will - it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?"

Dean stumbled backward, looking wildly around as if expecting to wake up from a horrible dream. The paintings on the walls stared down at him, their inhabitants writhing in fire and agony, humanity crushed by Heaven's raging war. He fixed his reddened gaze back on Zachariah. "What happens to all the people during your little pissing contest?"

"Well," Zachariah said, spreading his hands apologetically. "You can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case... truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look... it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered."

"All right, that's it," Eli snapped, grabbing Dean's arm. "I've heard enough. We're outta here."

She closed her eyes and teleported herself and Dean away.

They reappeared in the exact same spot.

Dean looked around, confused. "Wait, how come we're still…" he started, turning to her. "Holy shit, Eli!"

She was writhing on the ground in convulsions, blood dripping from her nose and ears. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, only the whites showing, and from her throat came a horrible retching noise as she struggled to breathe, small beads of foam bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Dean immediately knelt by her side and grabbed her shoulders but he couldn't stop the thrashing. "What did you do to her, you bastard!" he yelled, looking up at Zachariah in panic.

"Oh calm down, she'll be fine," the angel said, settling himself onto a small white couch. "She just hit a barrier."

"Doesn't look like just a barrier to me," Dean snapped. On the floor, Eli was still seizing, choking and gasping for air.

"We know her power level has recently increased," Zachariah explained. "We still don't know how, but we'll figure it out eventually. We also knew she might try to leave the party a bit prematurely, so we erected…well, you're right, I shouldn't really call it a barrier. More like an electric fence."

Dean glared at him. "I'll kill you, you …."

"Oh please, enough with the puppy dog eyes. She'll be fine. This was just a slap on the wrist. Now, why don't we finish our conversation."

Time passed. Dean paced the room a hundred times, searching for a flaw in the perfect, too-smooth walls, tipping over vases and kicking the legs off chairs in his anger. Finally he whipped out his cell phone and attempted to call Sam again. He knew it probably wouldn't work, but he needed to try something. Just walking back-and-forth and feeling utterly helpless, knowing that outside that disgustingly clean white room the apocalypse was about to begin, was driving him crazy.

"You can't reach him, Dean," a familiar rough voice said. "You're outside your coverage zone."

Dean jerked around to find Castiel standing there, looking as beaten as Dean had ever seen him. He approached the angel unsteadily.

"What are you gonna do to Sam?" he demanded. Castiel turned away from his glare.

"Nothing. He's going to do it to himself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked. There was a long pause. Castiel kept his face to the ground, studiously not looking at him or anywhere else in the room. "Oh right," Dean said sarcastically. "Cas the good little soldier. Only breaks the rules when no one is looking. Can just turn off his emotions when the going gets tough. Why the hell are you even here?"

Castiel hesitated, then lifted his eyes. "We've been through much together, you and I," he said haltingly. "And I just wanted to say… I'm sorry it ended like this."

"Sorry?" Dean scoffed. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than sorry."

"Try to understand –" Castiel said, squinting at him, and Dean realized that this was so that he wouldn't have to look at anything else in the room. "This is long foretold. This is your..."

"Destiny?" Dean yelled, clenching his hands into fists and trying to resist the urge to start throwing punches. "Don't give me that 'holy' crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families - that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?" He paused, breathing deeply, nostrils flaring. "Are you going to watch her burn?"

Castiel dropped his eyes just a fraction.

"Oh no, you son of a bitch, you don't get out that easily. Let's talk about the fucking elephant in the room." He grabbed Castiel's jaw and jerked it to the right. "Look at what those bastards did to her! And you're just gonna sit there and do nothing?"

Eli was huddled in the far corner. She had stopped convulsing but was staring blankly into space, drawing in fast, shallow breaths like it was painful to breathe, her hands clutching her ribs. Dried blood still lined her nose and traced a path from her earlobes down her neck. She didn't even seem to notice that Castiel was in the room.

"That is why I must do this," Castiel rasped, choking on his words. "Here there is guilt, pain, anger, confusion. In paradise, you'll be at peace. All of you." He looked at Dean with tired eyes. "Sam included."

"You can take your peace..." Dean started, bringing his face close to Castiel's and speaking in a low, dangerous voice. "And shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. And you know what? Eli feels the same way. She rejected your little offer of becoming an angel. Rejected it for this shitty life of fear and confusion and danger." He paused, taking a steadying breath, and tried to speak in a less murderous tone. "This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. You never cared two shits about that anyway, right? You're just doing this because you're scared. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it."

Castiel started to turn away but Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. "Look at me! Or even better, look at her! After everything that has happened, you're just gonna walk away from her? She trusted you! Hell, you're the real reason she's in this state anyway! If you hadn't…"

"Don't forget that your words have consequences to others," Castiel warned sharply before Dean could continue his rant, shooting a telling glance at Eli's prone form.

Dean's voice dropped; he couldn't believe it, but he was begging, actually begging. "All that human emotion you've been feeling? That's what real, Cas. Not heaven. Not orders. Not paradise. Help me, Cas. Help her. You can't abandon us now."

Castiel looked conflicted. "What would you have me do?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking at Eli, who was attempting pull herself into a sitting position, her face scrunched up in pain.

"Get me to Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can stop this before it's too late."

Castiel gave him a hard stare. "I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it," Dean said in his most passionate voice.

Castiel looked at him with pained eyes, then at Eli, who was pressing her back against the wall, still wincing and breathing too fast. She looked weak and fragile on the ground, like broken doll. He turned his face away, ashamed.

"You spineless, soulless, heartless son of a bitch," Dean spat. "You don't deserve her. What do you care about dying? You're already dead." He walked away, kneeling by Eli's side to help steady her shaking shoulders and wipe cold sweat from her hot forehead. "We're done."

Castiel took a step toward them, his face crumpling. "Dean –"

"We're done!" Dean yelled. He turned back a second later, only to find the angel gone. He couldn't tell if he was disappointed or relieved.