Greetings all you readers out there (unless you can't read but still enjoy looking at the funny scribbles, hello to you too, but why?) I finished this chapter WAY ahead of schedule because my school decided to close…
While I was halfway there.
So…yeah… that happened.
Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter and for all those lawyers out there, I own nothing except the plot and my hopes and dreams (yet I'm still paying those off).
Read on!
The Mark of Cain: Chapter 5
"I don't like this."
A man stands behind the counter of the worn bar top, a glass currently held in his hand being wiped clean while he glares hardly at the short man on the other side. The man behind the bar is tall, with brown eyes, sandy brown hair, a strong jaw, and his whole body radiating irritation. The grey t-shirt he wears stretches tight across his sinewy skin, and a persistent thrum rings from his boots tapping against the linoleum floor.
"It doesn't matter if you like it or not, but as of now… we need this to work."
The smaller man, obviously calling the shots, drinks from the shot he had been nursing before and finishes it in one go. He looks frail, but under all that weak muscle is great power. His curly black hair shoots from his scalp to match the grayish beard on his face. His eyes are a cold blue, calculating, untrusting. What he lacks in height he makes up for in intimidation.
"But Metatron, I just think-"
The taller man is silenced by the smaller, one hand up while the other holds the empty glass, inspecting the object with great scrutiny.
"I didn't recruit you to think, Gadreel," Metatron blandly states, "I recruited you for muscle. Sometime people don't believe that I can destroy them with a single thought."
The outstretched hand becomes a pointed finger.
"And that is where you come in my friend."
The glass starts to strain in Gadreel's palm, so much that little cracks start to spider-web from where his fingers rest. He has to put the cup down before he does any more damage to Ezekiel's possesions.
Ezekiel.
When he first fell, he thought it was just a new punishment to his eternal Hell in Heaven. However, once he saw all the other tendrils of grace of his former brothers and sisters. That is when he realized he was freed. That Gadreel the disgraced has been given another chance. He quickly searched for a vessel, and took on the guise of a bartender in his early thirties. His name:
Ezekiel.
Really, he was thankful that his vessel's name was that of another angel. Made it easier on his conscious when lying.
Although, after all the murders he has committed, what should a conscious mean to him now?
What draws him out of his thoughts is the incessant snapping by the angel in front of him.
"Hello? Heaven to Gadreel? Are you in there?"
The hand without the rag takes the tiny fingers and pushes them out of the way.
"Yes, Metatron. I was just… thinking, is all."
"Again with the thinking! If you do any more of that you might think you have free will!"
The scowl finds its way back onto Gadreel's face. His hands start to worry the rag.
"Sometimes I wonder why I work with you…"
"Because I'm your last chance."
The look Metatron sends Gadreel sobers him up instantly, and soon the rag is being used to dust the counter. Gadreel is the first to look away, staring at the smooth wood, as he submits to Metatron.
"So can you explain to me why we are involving ourselves with these… filth?"
"I could… if you asked in a nicer, more polite manner…"
The small man side-eyes the bartender, and the insufferable look Gadreel shoots him is brushed off.
"Please can you inform me of you wondrous plans, X?" Gadreel forces out through gritted teeth.
"Now that was what I was looking for!"
Metatron spins back to face the bar completely before he begins his spiel.
"As you know, I was approached by Abbadon and her… associates… to initiate a partnership of sorts. Since the only ally I have going for me right now is, well, you, I had to take her up on her offer. It's not like I'm popular with the angels as of late… and Heaven hasn't always had a winning streak when it comes to the Winchesters, so I needed this as much as they needed me. When there is a union of Heaven and Hell, there is no telling what to expect."
On paper, this plan seemed very smart and well thought out. But Gadreel couldn't help but feel that this was wrong. It didn't sit right in his grace, like it was betraying God even more than he already did.
'But God is gone. He has abandoned not just you, but the entire world. Why does it matter if this would go against His wishes?'
Still, Gadreel just could not shake the wrong in his heart, so he decides to distract himself with other things.
Like pestering Metatron with more questions.
"And are you sure that this Abbadon is a trustworthy character?"
"Oh Heaven no!" Metatron admits, "I trust her as much as I have a chance with her, and that isn't much with this body. But… she serves a purpose. And if she is no longer needed, I will toss her to the side like trash. I did the same to Castiel, and I can do the same to her."
Castiel.
The name strikes chords within Gadreel he thought he had long since forgotten. Yet the wounds never healed. The memories never faded. His heart never stopped yearning.
And seeing him with the elder Winchester did nothing to soothe his feelings.
Yet more important things were also forming in the angel's mind. Something that put Castiel on the back-burner, to be touched upon later.
'If Metatron treats his other associates like this… what will happen when I am no longer needed?'
As if he could read his mind, Metatron took his hand and laid it over one of Gadreel's.
"Do not fear, Gadreel. Unlike you, they are replaceable. You are someone who I need for Heaven's renewal. You and I can lead our celestial birthplace through its Renaissance!"
The words seem trusting, and the smile somewhat believable…
However Gadreel could not find it in him to trust or believe the imp's rambling.
He accepts, begrudgingly, so he has more time to ponder without the constant eye of Metatron over his shoulder.
Their business finished, Metatron hops off the barstool.
"As much as this conversation intellectually titillated me, Gadreel, I must take my leave. There are certain things in Heaven I must see too."
And with a gust of wind, the older vessel and the angel controlling it are gone. Leaving Gadreel alone in the bar with nothing but the liquor on the shelves to keep him company. He moves from behind the counter and towards one of the booths, his human body seemingly tired. His back slouches as the full weight of the deal with the demon crashes over him. And now, not only can he not trust Abbadon…
He can't trust Metatron now, too.
And finally, the thing that has bothering him ever since he laid eyes on him again resurfaces.
Even after all these years, after all the torment and pain, Castiel still has this unflappable ability to hope and believe.
Good to know his cynicism did not rub off on him.
The dam holding all previous memories of Castiel seems to burst, and they overflow his mind. All he can do is succumb to the tides and float in the pool of emotions he once buried deep within his subconscious.
And thinks about something that… could have been.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
Dean's mind may be cloudy, and his eyes may be half-lidded, yet he still has enough of his senses to make sure his Sammy is safe.
'hehe… Sammy…'
"Yes, Dean, this is very safe."
Castiel snaps, his mind still on overdrive from last night. The rigidity of Castiel's spine and his harsh attitude is the polar opposite of Dean's relaxed nature and fluid movements.
Each person in the room had a hard time waking up.
Dean felt a twinge of pain, so he dry swallowed around 3 pills.
Sam was nervous about the day's events, and struggled over whether to get up or not.
Castiel never left the kitchen. He tiredly stayed up, replaying Dean's strange behavior in his mind to try and identify where he went wrong with the man he saved.
It was clear to everyone the tension in the room, so thankfully Sam decides to break the awkwardness with a slight cough.
"Well then," Sam slowly drawls, "we might as well get this over with."
Sam is back on the chair that oddly resembles one you find in the dentist's office, with Castiel on his right and Dean on his left. In Castiel's hands are a bowl filled with a mixture of ingredients. And in Dean's hands, an open book.
"So… what are we doin' again?"
Castiel huffs angrily as he has to explain the process to Dean… again.
"I am preparing a spell which will allow Sam to fully immerse himself into Gadreel's grace. From there, he can see what Gadreel is doing, hear what he is thinking, and still be able to relay all this information to us. You, on the other hand, are just holding the book for me."
"Oh," Dean huffs, "I can do that."
Sam smirks at the crease forming on Castiel's forhead, that seems to speak "Really? Are you serious right now?"
But the moment of ease is gone when Castiel announces the spell to be complete.
The words start to flow from his mouth before Sam has a chance to relax. Unlike the last time they performed a spell, this time the concoction glows a bright blue before becoming a swirling mist. Dean can only stare with glazed eyes at the beautiful swirl of color as it begins to drift from the bowl and towards Sam. Soon the spell enters Sam's body through his nostrils, and it begins to take effect. He starts to convulse for a second, and Dean would normally react if his limbs didn't feel heavy and slow. Yet that is over quickly and soon Sam's hazel eyes disappear and are replaced with a bright blue glow. No iris. No pupil. Just a glow.
"What do you see, Sam?" Castiel asks, snapping Dean from his amazed stupor. He closes his mouth and tosses the book to a table with little to no care if it ends up there or not. Dean turns back to his brother and angel and joins Castiel on his other side.
"I see… everything. I can see the beginning of the universe… the creation of man… all of history is happening right before my eyes!"
"Focus Sam, don't get lost in the grace. We need you to focus. Find Gadreel's grace."
The calm words held an urgent undertone, and soon Sam began to sift through the souls of angels to find the one they wanted.
While Sam focused harder, Dean began to lose his.
'This is boring.'
His eyes shift towards the trench coat wearing angel beside him, and how he looks like he would rather be anywhere but next to Dean. Well, Dean doesn't like that. So while little Sammy is busy, Dean decides to act. He puts his hand on Cas's shoulder, and like last night the recipient of contact flinched. Only this time the flincher was Castiel.
"Startled ya'?"
"No," Castiel responds harshly, turning his head back to Sam, "just not used to touch. Like someone I know…"
"Who?"
Dean is genuinely confused as Castiel turns back to analyze the hunter. His cold mask slips into confusion as he starts to explain.
"Last night… don't you remember what happened after Sam left?"
Dean can vaguely recall getting up in the middle of the night, but most of his memory is blurry. He can't seem to remember anything of what Cas is talking about. If only he could care that he couldn't remember.
"No. I don't even remember talking to Sammy," Dean admits truthfully, a huge smile plastered on his tan face.
This takes Castiel by surprise, his blue eyes shining bluer in curiosity. He would question Dean further about his fleeting memory, if only Sam did not decide to announce that he has located Gadreel's grace.
'Right, Gadreel. Focus, Castiel, you can't be distracted like last time.'
Dean and Castiel lean in closer as Sam begins to describe the surroundings of the angel of original sin.
"He's… sitting in a bar. A nice bar, from what I can tell. And, he's just… sitting there."
"Yeah, yeah, sitting, blah blah blah," Dean says while motioning with his hand, "anything else? Something more… interesting?"
"Try and see what he is thinking about Sam," Castiel pipes in after.
"Okay, let me try."
It only takes a small amount of time before Sam actually breaks through the barriers of Gadreel's mind. And, does Sam wish he never did that.
"I did it! I can see what he's thinking about! And it's…" Sam voice falters. "My God…"
"What Sammy, what is it?" Dean asks like a puppy, finally finding something juicy to hold his attention for more than three seconds.
"He's thinking about Cas!"
This throws Dean for a loop, and he is pushed back with surprise, varying emotions swirling in his mind. At the forefront: jealousy, anger, and betrayal.
As for the angel in question, his face becomes even paler and his eyes bug out of his head. Seemingly picking up the habit from his favorite hunter, a constant loop plays through his mind of:
'Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.'
"And in these thoughts… no, memories… you… and him… you…"
Sam breaks the connection soon after that, too shocked and unfocused to stay. He jumps from his laid down position, and suddenly the room starts to spin.
'This must have taken more out of me than I thought.'
Sam's dizzy spell only seems to get worse, and he has little to no time to grab onto a solid surface before he's falling towards the ground.
Usually Dean would be there to catch him if he wasn't lost in the confusing maze his mind has become.
And Castiel would have been there if not for the fact he was trying to leave the room in a subtle way.
However, both men snap out of their self-imposed trances once Sam hits his knees.
"Sammy!"
"Sam!"
Each fly to the fallen man and lift him by the arms towards the chair again, laying him back down.
"I thought you said this was okay! That nothing was going to happen!"
"It was. It is! If only Sam broke the connection the right way instead of being forced out."
"Right, and I wonder why that was, again."
The fog that Dean's mind had been clouded in for most of the day starts to clear as the situation starts getting more serious.
Castiel sheepishly looks away as Dean's green eyes bore into the side of his face.
"Because of mine and Gadreel's past relationship…"
"I'm sorry," Dean mocks, one hand over his ear, "I couldn't hear you."
Castiel's head snaps towards Dean.
"Because of the bond that used to exist between me and Gadreel!"
Castiel yells this information out, scared of what the elder Winchester would think yet still angry at him as well.
But all you need to do is look in the man's emerald eyes to see all the pain and sadness that the angel's words caused.
Before Castiel has a chance to explain himself, Dean is already moving towards the exit.
"Make sure Sammy is okay, then you and him meet me in the study in ten minutes. I need- I need time to think."
And so the hunter leaves the angel alone with his unconscious brother, wallowing in the self-pity and hurt that has been building for over a millennia, and only now can feel because of a certain Dean Winchester bringing everything back into light, and leaving him to process everything by himself. It wouldn't even matter… if only the man he had given everything up for would have stayed by his side to let him explain instead of running off. Again.
'You keep screwing everything up, Castiel!'
Tears pool in his eyes, and once the first drop falls from his cheek the rest overflows his face.
'Why does this keep happening? Why? Why? WHY!?'
All Castiel can do is sink towards the ground, joining the growing puddle of tears, as he berates himself for the next screw-up in his never-ending list of failures.
'He… him and Gadreel… they were…'
Dean can't handle the over-whelming sense of betrayal over the information that Cas had a… a… fling with… him.
It's irrational, it's petty, it's stupid… yet he can't shake how he feels.
And now… he has to hear about… it.
As he reaches his room, the only thing going through his mind is:
'I ain't going through this sober!'
He spends the next ten minutes searching for the bottle of pills he knows he has lying around in his room.
Howdy folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter as I did writing it! I'm going to keep this short: Have a nice everything and remember, every time I get a review, an angel gets its full grace back!