In the Bugatti with Cas:
Cas tilts his head, definitely an Angel thing. "Crap." He says. Cas is, I just like it when Cas curses, it sounds innocent…except that it usually means something disastrous is about to happen, has happened. "The Angels are talking again, extensively." He looks up and away listening…I can see Angel Cas briefly again. I wonder how much he misses it. "They," Cas goes on, "Bartholomew's thugs, captured a group of demons, and subsequently interrogated them." Cas flinches – he never did that as an Angel – it must be pretty bad, probably not as bad as what those Angels have in store for Sam though. "The demons had been following," Cas pauses, this whole conversation is filled with silences as Cas makes his way carefully through Enochian, which used to be part of his heaven – his personal hell - his home. "a brown '77 Chevrolet el Camino, if I understood the description." Cas is about to continue…
"That's Garth." Cas looks at me startled out of his listening. And why in the hell, and how, does Cas know how to identify an El Camino, a 77 El Camino, from a description?
Cas continues where I interrupted him: "Kevin Tran is talking to Abbadon, according to her demons," pause, "if one can believe them," a few moments of quiet, "the Angels do by the way." Cas pauses again, looking concerned. The demons don't know Kevin. "They don't know Kevin, Dean." I do know Kevin, and Kevin wouldn't have done this to us, to Sam, unless he was being forced. Kevin was ready to help when I was chasing Sam and the baby. When I was ready to take Anna from Sam? When I would have led him to Sam and Anna? Damn. What's up with Kevin? "Kevin put a low-jack on Garth's car." Cas adds. Another one of those long pauses, silent, his mouth just slightly open, lines around his eyes showing in the dirty morning light, as if he was waiting to hear something twice, something that needs to be exactly right: "Abbadon's demons have reason to believe Garth is going to Sam."
Dean's mouth twitches, he leans back, and he forces all the emotion from his face, I've seen this a thousand times, I could do it for him. This is bad, Abbadon's demons know how to find Sam, and Bartholomew's Angels are following the remaining demons. "Abbadon knows, the Angels know, Bartholomew knows, that Anna is an Anti-Christ."
I shove my phone into Cas' hands: "Call Garth, and stop him."
"This is Garth Fitzgerald IV, I'm not available…" "You have reached the office of Agent Johnson of the FBI, I'm not available right now…" "You have reached the office of Detective…" "You have reached the personal line of…Texas Ranger…"
"Dammit Cas! You have to…" I shouldn't have raised my voice at him. Cas looks so guilty, and this isn't his fault, none of this is his fault, he could never have known any of this ahead of time.
Dean takes a breath, "Leave a message on every last one of those Cas, and then find more, if he gets to Sam…" Dean blinks a few moments, and bites his bottom lip. If Garth gets to Sam the Angels and Demons will, will what? Neither Dean nor I know if they want the baby dead or alive, or which will be worse. And as Anna goes, so goes Sam. "Answer your fucking phone Garth." Dean mutters under his breath to no one in particular since Garth can't hear him. I know that tone of voice, it's the one he used when he prayed to me, and now he has no one to whom he can pray. I wish I had given him everything.
The outer reaches of suburbia:
"Sam?" God-damn you Sam – come to think of it god did that to you already – just open your eyes, you don't even need to talk to me. "Moose!" Nothing. "You moron Winchester!" This is a way to kill a Winchester that I hadn't foreseen; the unfortunate addendum is that I want to save Sam. I rest a hand quietly on his neck to feel his pulse just under his skin, he isn't quite gone. If I were a responsible King of Hell I would just close my hand and finish this – quickly - both for the sake of Hell and for the sake of Sam. I set my ear to the small bulge in his belly, his muscles are still wonderfully defined - my beautiful Sam - and listen.
There is the tiniest heartbeat. I am embarrassingly ecstatic, not that anyone needs to know, Anna and I will keep this to ourselves. I gather Sam in my arms – was it absolutely necessary that he choose such a dilapidated shack in which to shelter - even frail and incapacitated the boy is positively enormous. This hovel has the most god-awful beige-faux-berber rug. "Sam!" His breathing is increasingly jerky, for a moment or two he is gasping. Dammit Dean, I will kill you if you don't get here on time, and I will do it slowly, and thoroughly, and you won't come back this time, and you will see why I am the King of Hell. "Sam!" I won't beg, aren't there some things that I deserve to be spared? "Sam!" Now what? "Anna's in there, she's holding on for you." He pushes his face against me. "Sam," I stroke his hair, "I have you, and I have Anna." I can take care of this…what's the worst that will happen: die and go to hell? Destroyed by Abbadon? Losing Sam frightens me more than either: I am in deep trouble here. I will not think about that as I hold his my beautiful pregnant Sam. I rest my hand on his baby-bump, and wait and wonder if I can feel Anna move yet. I rub my hand on his belly, run my fingers through his hair, I am quite aware of what Ruby and Lucifer saw in him. I should just take Sam as mine while he is sweetly unresisting, my precious Boy-King. Take a moment Crowley: I refuse to feel anything toward Sam Winchester other than anger and desire.
"Anna is in there Sammy." I stroke his long bangs back; run a finger over the dark rings under his eyes. "You'll be ok now." I kiss the tips of my own fingers and press the kiss to his forehead. Live you damnable insufferable Moose.
In the Bugatti with Dean:
Not a single answer from Garth, and no way to trace his car, apparently no way – without Charlie - to access his GPS. Garth is out there, leading the Angels and demons to Sam, and all we can do it wait. "I could pray." Dean – accidentally I believe – swerves the car.
"What?" Dean barks out at me, "Are you insane?"
"I don't believe this could be much worse than it is. I can call Angels by name. Dean, there might be some Angel willing to help Sam Winchester out there."
He is staring at me: "Why don't you just go ahead and kill yourself Cas? You feel so damn guilty about this that you think throwing your life away is going to make it better? You're human now Cas, there isn't another, there isn't another," Dean holds his breath, I can see him pulling himself together, "Cas, if I'm going to lose Sam I can't, won't, don't let me lose you." He looks ahead again, hard-eyed - I can feel him not looking at me. "Just Cas, be here with me, we can figure this out…"
Dean's phone rings. "Garth?" Garth apparently doesn't answer his phone while he's driving, because 'it isn't safe to talk and drive'. Dean grabs the phone from me.
"Get out of your car and walk away." "Now." "Kevin put a low-jack on it, and sold us out to Abbadon." "Save it Garth." "There's always plenty of guilt to go around." "And the Angels are also onto your car." "Walk. Away. Now." "Garth, where the hell are you?" "How can you 'not quite know'?" "Hot-wire something." "Ok then, take the fucking bus." "Yea h, I'll see you later." "Or not Garth, this is shaping up to be a real fight." "Sorry." "I'm sorry we brought you into this." "Thank you."
Those last three statements are quiet - everything before was angry.
On a long dark morning in outer suburbia:
I don't know how long it is since Dean cut off the call. What I do know is that Sam isn't getting any better, and that all I can do to save him is give him, feed him my blood. I know Sam doesn't want that, and I can respect that. When did I start respecting what a Winchester wants? When did anyone start respecting what Sam Winchester wants? Where the hell is Dean? Can I risk taking some of Sam's sweet, Demon-Angel-Human blood to call re-enforcements? More precisely, to call Larry. If there are demons here when Dean walks in there will be a fight - Sam doesn't need that. What Sam needs is all the blood he can get. Anna's Grace won't help them much longer.
"Dean?" Sam is trying to speak again. "Crowley?" I try to shush him, but he is Sam, and once he has taken something into his head there is no stopping him. "Let Dean and Cas take care of her?" Sam Winchester just waiting to die again. Typical. Stupid.
"Sam, we can't save Anna without you…please. Sam?"
"What the fuck Crowley?" Crowley is literally cradling Sam, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
"He's…" Crowley doesn't get to finish the sentence, because it's obvious that Sam is dying. And it's too early and without Sam Anna won't make it yet. So we save Sam, that's all there is to it.
"We need to do a field transfusion. Crowley? Cas? A little help here." They both look helpful and helpless. "My duffel Cas?" Crowley is still clinging to Sam, not even looking at me, "Crowley, Kevin sold us out, Garth may have bought us some time, but Abbadon and the Angels are coming."
"Damn." That's all that Crowley has to say? Damn?'
I am going to beat the shit out of that Demon: "'Damn' Crowley, that's all you've got to say?"
"What I meant to say Dean, is that since you can't take care of anything, I will go out there and kill them myself…after we save Sam."
Joining us in the dark house on a Grey Suburban Morning, Near the Boarder of Missouri and Kansas and Death:
"Garth?" He must have been pretty close to be here already - which is good and bad at the same time. Crowley looks at Garth suspiciously.
Garth doesn't bother with either of us. He walks right on over to Sam, and slaps him hard across the face, "Sam! Wake up!" He looks at Crowley, "How long?" Crowley looks angry and puzzled, "How long has he been like this?"
Crowley takes a deep breath, "He's been going this way for hours." Garth stares at him. "Ok, I don't know…" Crowley sounds exasperated, "I didn't check." Crowley hasn't let go of Sam.
Cas shows back up with my duffle, and at last we can get this show on the road. For a dentist Garth is remarkable nice about needles.
"Dean?" I'm so tired, and I can only give so much blood to him, and Sam doesn't truly look any better. "Dean?" Cas sits down behind me, and pulls me into his arms, into what had been becoming a comfortable position for me and him. I've missed Cas, being like this with him, I've missed letting myself trust him. I let my face roll onto his shoulder, drift as I lose blood, and wait.
Garth looks between me and Dean, and smiles his stupid half grin, and tilts his head a little sideways so he actually looks silly: "How long?"
Truthfully the answer is 'forever'. Dean shifts restlessly, "Always." He mumbles into my neck.
Garth pats me on the back as he gets up: "Good luck then." I can tell he means it.
Outer Rings of Hell, Conference Room 13b:
"The Angels what?" Abbadon is livid, worse than I remember God, not that I saw him much, but there might be an actual difference between heaven and hell. God was indifferent - Abbadon is setting out to rule the world. I am glad that I am not the demon in question, it seems Abbadon enjoys making threats. She turns her attention to me, and doesn't look happy yet: "You can hear the other Angels speak? All of them?"
I'm not sure of the correct answer; hell is a land without a map: "What do you need from me?" The demons have lost Garth, Sam and Anna, Crowley, Castiel and Dean. Demons have sold out Abbadon to Angels – even after Abbadon's threats I don't blame them, I have seen what Angels have done. Abbadon herself has lost track of Kevin, he left a message about the Angel and Demon tablets and dumped his phone.
I imagine tasting Kevin's blood on my lips, Crowley's one-time little play thing. I underestimated him, they all said 'Winchester, Winchester, Winchester.' No one said beware of clever Kevin Tran. If I want the tablets I'm going to have to play along for now, and see if my desperate Angel can help find him, or the tablets, for me.
"Yes," I say to Abbadon, "I can hear them. I can talk to them."
Lawrence Hilton, Conference Room 12b:
I snap my phone shut. At least we have some fix on Ezekiel, some bright little cherub managed to trace his cell phone, which shows he is in hell - they have awful coverage there – in all likelihood telling all to Abbadon. Some half-way competent happily murderous seraphim have cornered and tortured a hand-full of demons, who had been following Garth – Garth Fitzgerald IV? I have heard he was about as ineffective as my Angels - Garth was driving to Sam, with a low-jack being followed by Demons…the issue though is that Garth dumped the car. And we have a new problem - Abbadon is working with Kevin Tran. If Abbadon is working with Kevin does it mean she has Kevin Tran and does that mean she has the Angel or Demon tablet, both? Does she have the prophet actually in her hands or the prophet is in the proverbial wind?
The thought of the tablet and the prophet is trivial consolation for having lost track of the Impala, and now lost Garth and with him Sam Winchester and his abomination. I turn my attention to the (remaining) Angels in the room: "Find them, kill them…and then find Kevin Tran." I wonder if this group of Angels will be as insufferable incompetent as the last; I am only grateful that Abbadon's demons seem no better. It seems she and I are in for a frustrating battle.
It's quite simple whoever has the anti-christ, the prophet, and the tablet wins.
Dark House on a Grey Suburban Morning:
Garth shakes his head, "Sam's not much better." And I hear what he is not saying: "Dean can't give, can't take much more." We are all edgy, anxious. Crowley is our only real weapon with Sam and Dean down, of course there is Garth, and like this, without my Grace, I am useless to them.
"I need to talk to you, Garth." Crowley hasn't spoken since his earlier exchange with Garth, "Alone." I can't stand, and clearly neither can Sam, and Cas seems to be taking care of things. Yes Garth and Crowley should go outside and talk, but not alone, Cas will be coming with them. I don't quite know how he expects me to take care of Sam.
"Lie down Sam." That's Crowley's voice. "Dean, be brotherly, hold the Moose's hand."
Outside at high noon in Despairing Middle-America:
I walk out into the bleakness all set about with Cottonwood trees. Crowley and Garth are hissing at one-another, not seeing me. Crowley shakes his head, "I'm not risking Sam." There is an awkward pause, where both Crowley and Garth look at him. "Boys, listen to me we need to buy Sam time." I don't trust where Crowley is going with this, and, I don't like how close Crowley is with Sam. "Sam chose. He won't let Anna to be the Anti-Christ, even if it means letting them go." Crowley is apparently set on following Sam's rules.
"There's nothing we can do for them?" Garth is blinking back tears.
"Unless Sam draws on her Grace." Crowley adds.
"Her grace is all that is sustaining them." Crowley knew that, but Garth looks surprised.Her Grace can be redirected...I had hoped no-one else would become aware of this possibility. Using it comes with a great deal of risk, and Sam being Sam, he could use it accidently. He needs to be actively discouraged from it. "Her grace may already not be enough by itself, and if it were accidently re-directed..." the result would be – I cannot allow Dean to suffer that loss.
"Using it could kill both of them." Crowley snarls. "Sam is gravely ill, according to our friend here at the door of Death – again - her isn't Grace is enough for both of them." Anger flashes across Crowley's features. He composes himself and rolls his eyes: "Admit it boys, we need help, and the Winchesters are out of friends. You need my demons to keep all of you impudent idiots safe."
The next thing I know Crowley's arm is around my neck and Sam's knife is to my throat. "Awfully sorry, Castiel, but this is our only choice," he is breathing on my cheek, rubbing his stubble against mine. Garth's mouth is dropped open in horror. "I was going to borrow a drop or two from your friend here but yours will do fine."
I realize that Crowley wants human blood. The blade feels cold but it doesn't cut deep.
"Larry?" "We have a little problem." "Yes, here and right now." "Obviously." "Of course you'll feel that way." "Naturally you will."
These idiots have dropped the proverbial ball again and again and again, and repeatedly: how many people have accidentally started the apocalypse? Tried and failed to be God? Loosed the monsters of Purgatory? Botched locking the gates of hell when they had it in their grasp? Dean getting Sam pregnant by an Angel? Loosing track of their prophet? The comedy of errors that is fated to be the Winchester Gospel goes forever on. They appear to have been cast aside by their own destiny.
I won't leave Sam's fate for them mishandle. I will not let Sam Winchester be a victim of an absent angry god.
Author's notes: Kevin has taken on a bit of a life of his own. He was initially written in to drive the plot, but he becomes much more than that. The plot, ah, the plot, I wish I was updating one a week, so I could keep the plot moving along faster.