AN: This is my first time actually publishing a fic, so go easy on me. This is also my first Supernatural story, but I will try my very hardest to be character accurate. This will be light on the Destiel to start, because it is clearly there in cannon but I just don't know how they will play it if they do decide to. (Which they should, but again, who knows). It may develop more in later chapters. Also, there will be an original character in this story, but only to have someone for Cas to play off of while he is away from the boys and because this show needs more badass female characters. I promise, she does not end up with any of the boys. *wink*
*** I do not own any part of Supernatural or any song/other material mentioned in this story.
A Place Between Heaven and Hell
"Now I've gone crazy, couldn't you tell?
I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell"
- The Stable Song by Gregory Alan Isakov
He knew he shouldn't have said it the way he had. But he would have done or said anything to talk his brother down. Sam had confessed his inner most pain and Dean had responded the only why he knew how in the moment, to completely downplay his brother's fears. To tell him he had it all wrong. Sam was wrong, but Dean regretted the way he dismissed his brother's anguish.. But it was his only option in the moment. He had to get Sam to stop, to let it all go, or else he was going to die. And Dean would be damned if he was going to lose his little brother again.
As they exited the church, Dean could feel Sam begin to lose what little grip he had left. Sam's legs faulted underneath his growing weakness and they were both propelled against the side of the Impala. Dean could only think to call for the angel he knew couldn't help. Cas had already made it clear that Sam was taking on damage that even he couldn't heal. But Dean was desperate. And he was angry. Why had Cas not just waited for him? He could've helped…somehow. In light of the information that Naomi had offered, he thought that it had at least warranted a conversation, but the determined angel had taken off before that could happen. That had angered Dean, but he didn't have time to dwell on that. But now he realized, suddenly as the sky lit up, he was only going to be able to dwell on it.
"No Cas", he said incredulously. How could this be happening? He watched in stunned horror as a particularly close angel hit the ground in the watery marsh a few yards away with a terrible, earth moving thud. Dean felt Sam quiver in response, but didn't look at him.
"What is happening?", was all Sam could muster the strength to say.
"The angels, they're falling", Dean responded as all hope of seeing his friend alive again left him. He knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again, but that was pretty par for the course for the Winchesters.
Dean took a deep breath and pulled his eyes away from the sky. All he would allow himself to think about now, in this moment, was his splintering little brother. He quickly jumped back into action, pulling Sam up to his feet and opening the passenger side door in one swift motion. Once he was satisfied that Sam was secure and at least breathing, he closed the door and looked back at the church. He knew he couldn't just leave Crowley sitting in there, demon or not. There was no way of knowing if the purification that Sam had managed to complete would last, but either way, Crowley was still an important piece in this game. Dean made his way back inside the church, unlocking Crowley from the chair, but not removing the shackles.
"What's happening out there?", Crowley said with wide eyes, knowing he was unlikely to get an answer.
"Shut up!", Dean pulled the demon up to his feet. He quickly led Crowley from the church, noticing that King of Hell was a little less elegant in his movements at the moment. They got to the driver's side of the car and Dean spun him around to face him, forcing Crowley's back against the vehicle. "You are going to keep your pie hole shut and your hands to yourself or I will throw your ass in the trunk". Crowley knew it was best not to respond.
Dean took one last look up at the sky before he climbed into the driver's seat. He allowed his mind to leave the mission at hand for only a moment to think of his friend that was either falling like the rest of the angels or, the more likely scenario, was dead. Regret was all that Dean found there. He shook his head to dislodge the thought and started the car. He threw the Impala into reverse and tore away from the church like he was outrunning a title wave.
Silence, silence was all that was in Castiel's head as he opened his eyes. He could feel something crunch against his out stretched hand as he began to move. He felt as if his body was suddenly soaking with cold water. He had never felt anything like it. He had never felt like this. He was so aware of everything; The dried forest debris beneath his body, the movement of the leaves in the trees above him, the smell of grass around him, the wind blowing across his face, and the silence pounding in his ears. He had never heard anything as loud as the silence reverberating in his head.
As he stood up and began to walk with no direction, it all came rushing back to him; The choice he had made, the betrayal he felt, the pain of his very essence being taken from him. Metatron had lied, and he had believed him. Then a wave of something else hit him with the quickly rushing wind; Guilt. He had done it again. He had intended on fixing his home, but he had only made it worse. And then as he walked, he began to hear something other than silence. He heard the consequences of his actions. And those consequences were falling to the earth with horrible beauty.
Castiel picked up his pace as he came to a clearing. He stood there in paralyzing shock at what he was seeing, but he forced himself to maintain composure. His family was falling. They had been forced out their home. Any resolve they had was being stripped from them because of the choices Castiel had made. He found himself completely unable to pull his gaze away from the sickening scene that was playing out above him. This was his fault, he told himself, and he should have to watch. He should have to experience every aching minute of it.
Castiel felt a hitch in his breath and bile rising in his throat. As if an unseen force was pushing down on his shoulders, he collapsed to his knees. His human body was failing in his desire to continue watching his punishment. It was fighting against the pain, pleading with him to stop. Suddenly he lurched forward and dry heaved against the ground. He was shaking and could feel warm tears washing over his cool, wind-blown face. If he were still an angel, he would have been able to stand there all night and serve the first part of his long penance. But he was human now. His mortal brain could only handle so much.
He began gripping the ground in anguish. He could feel the pain radiating from his fingers as he dug them into the dirt and twigs. The sensation of his nails splitting against the earth only served as a catalyst for the guttural scream that escaped his lungs. The screams turned to sobs as his tears became overwhelming. How could he let this happen? How could he have been so wrong again? So much pain and suffering had been inflicted on his home because of him. He was what was wrong. Honestly I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis, Naomi's words echoed in his head. She was right, she had been right about him all along.
He stayed in that position for a long time, even after the sounds of his brothers and sisters plummeting to earth had ended. Castiel could not bring himself to get to his feet. He deserved to stay there in pain and self loathing. Finally, he fell to his side with his eyes closed tight. Exhaustion was taking him over as a thought entered his mind. If he just stayed there, unmoved, maybe the problem would take care of itself. Maybe this body that was only his now would just stop functioning from the chill in the air and he would cease to be able to cause any more disorder and carnage. He would take his inevitable trip downstairs, and not to rescue a green-eyed hunter. He needed to be punished for his crimes, where better to do that than Hell? His final thoughts before he lost consciousness were of Dean and the agony that came with knowing that he had let him down…again.
Dean allowed himself a sigh of relief as he pulled the Impala up next to the Men of Letters bunker. They had made it in one piece, which was surprising with how fast he had been driving. He was determined to get his now unconscious brother to safety. As he turned off the car, the radio that had been spewing nothing but speculation on the unpredicted meteor shower went silent.
He decided to bring Crowley into the bunker first. He knew that he was going to need Kevin's help bringing in Sam, and it was better if he could assure the profit that the man that killed his mother was locked away. Dean could feel his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans as he pulled the demon from the back seat, but he chose to ignore it. They made their way to the door, Dean did the secret knock the hunters and the profit agreed on before, and hoped that Kevin would answer quickly. The door squeaked open and Kevin stepped back onto the landing.
"What the hell is he doing here? What's going on?", Kevin said, his hatred palpable.
"I didn't have a better option. I'm going to lock him in the dungeon. Just go out to the car and sit with Sam." Dean could see the hesitation on the profit's face. "Please", he added, trying to get across how desperate he was.
"Fine. I just don't want to see him", he spat, motioning towards the demon as he walked past Dean. He cleared the stairs in one leap to get away as quick as he could.
After Dean left Crowley bound to the wall in the hidden dungeon, he made his way back to the car. He found Kevin kneeling next to the open-door passenger side of the Impala with a concerned look on his face.
"Dean, he doesn't look very good. Maybe we should take him to the hospital?", Kevin said as more of a question than a statement.
"What could the hospital do that we can't? Cas said not even he could heal Sam", Dean regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. Not only because he didn't want to think about his missing friend right now, but because that spurred a wave of questions from Kevin. (Why not? Where is Cas? Why were the machines in the war room going crazy? Why do you have a murdering dick demon tied up in the basement?). "Just help me get him inside" Dean begged, not just for the help, but to get the profit to stop talking. His head was swimming with the same questions and he needed to focus on something he could take care of right now; getting his brother to survive the night.
Once inside and in Sam's room, they carefully laid the giant man on the bed. Dean went about removing his shoes, shirt, and jeans and getting him to drink some water. Sam was burning up, so Dean instructed Kevin to go get all the ice packs from the first aid kits in the bunker and the car. He covered Sam with just a sheet and stood back to look at his brother, finally letting the bleakness of his condition wash over him. I can't lose Sam, especially not after losing…Dean let that thought trail off, not yet wanting to slip into the sorrow and regret he knew was waiting for him.
"Dean", Sam said, hardly more than a whisper. He turned his head to look in his brother's direction. Dean pulled himself back from his thoughts and moved Sam's desk chair next to the bed so he could comfort his brother.
"Sammy, don't try to move. You need to rest. We need to get you to stop lookin' like something out of Outbreak." Kevin reentered the room, looking a little out of breath and with his hands full of cold packs. He and Dean spent the next fifteen minutes arranging them around Sam in the hopes that they would be enough for now. When they finished, Kevin clearly gestured to Dean to follow him out of the room for them to talk. Dean was not looking forward to what he had to say, nor what he would have to tell him.
They made their way to the library when Kevin stopped to face Dean. "What the hell happened?" It was a broad question, but Dean knew all the bullet points that Kevin wanted answers to.
"I stopped Sam from finishing the trials. He would've died if he'd finished. And I couldn't leave Crowley there. I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with him." He added the last part because he knew Kevin wasn't going to tolerate living under the same roof as the demon that killed his mother. And Dean didn't blame him.
Kevin seemed to accept Dean's statements for now. "What was going on outside? All of the machines in the war room started going off and the map lit up all crazy", he said as he gestured to the room that led to the outside world. "I was afraid to go outside, but I looked through the telescope. I couldn't really tell what was going on", he now gestured to the smaller room in the opposite direction.
Dean turned to look at the smaller room, staring at the telescope like it was the first time he realized it was there. He didn't take his eyes off of it as he answered the nonplused profit. "All the angels fell. Metatron locked them out. He decided to have a hissy fit and kick everyone out of the party." Dean tried his best to keep it light for both their sakes. The reality of the situation was a hell of a lot to wrap your brain around.
Kevin looked fairly unfazed. He nodded and began to look around the room as if the answer to their troubles could be found just laying on the library table. Then his gaze just fell off into the distance, not focusing on anything. Dean figured he was lost in thought, but then the profit signed heavily and turned back to look Dean right in the eye with a determined expression on his face, "I want him gone. It's him or me", Kevin said curtly. Dean knew exactly what he meant and didn't say anything. He just nodded. And with that Kevin walked away in the direction of the bedrooms. Dean decided that he would figure out what to do with Crowley in the morning.
He began to walk down the same hall Kevin had disappeared to and heard his door slam at the end. Dean went back into Sam's room to give him one last look to make sure he was resting peacefully. Once satisfied, he started towards his room, but stopped at the door, hand on the knob. He turned to look at the slightly ajar door across the hall; the room that they had put Cas in to heal after finding him in the middle of the road. That felt like a lifetime ago.
Dean walked in and turned on the light. It was exactly like all the other rooms in the bunker, but for some reason it felt emptier. Cas wasn't in it long enough to decorate like Dean and Sam had done to theirs, not that he had anything to add to it anyway. Dean stood in the doorway for a moment, his expression unchanged. Then he walked in and shut off the light. He made his way to the bed and collapsed onto it, the stress of the day's events washing over him. He looked up to the ceiling and said out loud to no one, "My mattress is better".
AN: I know that this first chapter is fairly mundane and may be similar to other stories out there, but I promise that will change in the next few chapters. This was just to establish where everyone is in the story and for me to flex my rusty writing muscles. Like I said, I've never published anything I've written before, so I hope this wasn't too painful to read. I've really enjoyed reading everyone else's thoughts on what they want to happen next for the Supernatural boys and I just wanted to add my voice. Thanks!