Episode 4: The White Hats
Castiel pulled their stolen car to a stop outside the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas and shut off the engine. From the outside, the place looked just like home, but Castiel knew it was empty within, that the things—the people—that made it home to him in his world weren't around in this one.
With grim disheartenment, he climbed out of the vehicle and made his way toward the door, Gabriel following behind. Though Castiel had proposed they look through the Men of Letters archive for a spell or something to send them back, he didn't have much confidence that they'd actually find anything. Crossing universes wasn't exactly common. But they were running out of options at this point, and giving up was not acceptable.
The heavy door grated open with that familiar, aged creak, and the lights were still on from before, but the air inside immediately smelled musty and stale, dispelling any hint that this place could be anything other than abandoned.
Except, just as Castiel and Gabriel descended the steps into the war room, several figures suddenly swarmed out of the adjoining hallways to surround them. They were dressed in black combat gear and armed with automatic assault rifles, which were all trained on the two angels. Castiel tensed; where had these men come from? The bunker had been empty when he and Gabriel had first entered it.
"Whoa, hey there, fellas," the archangel said warily, raising his palms. "Can we help you?"
"Identify yourselves," one of them snapped.
"You first."
"You're trespassing," the soldier continued, jerking his weapon warningly. "Now, identify yourselves or I'll blow your heads off."
Castiel frowned at the man's accent. And the fact they were in the bunker… Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and Castiel flicked his gaze to the side as another man entered from the library. His eyes widened.
Gabriel's expression had darkened, and he'd curled one hand closed, thumb and forefinger poised to snap. Castiel shot a hand out to stop him before he could try to use his grace. Given their limited power, Gabriel might not have been able to take all these men out without one of them getting off a shot, and if they were who Castiel suspected, their weapons might contain bullets that weren't exactly mundane.
"We didn't mean to trespass," Castiel spoke up quickly. "We were under the impression the bunker wasn't currently in use by the Men of Letters."
"It isn't," the man on the library steps said in a stiff British accent. "Not since 1958 when all its chapter members were murdered. An alarm went off at headquarters when the sensors registered the place being accessed. So how did you know about its location, and how did you even get in?"
"This is going to sound strange," Castiel began, casting a glance at the men prepared to shoot them. "But we're from an alternate universe. One where I have a key to the Men of Letters bunker." He held one hand up, fingers splayed, and slowly reached into his pocket to pull out the key as evidence.
Mick Davies regarded him without reaction. "Are you claiming to be Men of Letters?"
"Um, not exactly."
One of the soldiers was holding up a strange looking device Castiel hadn't noticed before, and he moved closer to Mick to angle the screen toward him. "They're not human."
The tension in the air skyrocketed as the men shifted, tightening their grips on their weapons. Gabriel visibly stiffened in response.
"We're angels," Castiel explained hurriedly, grimacing at the admission. If pagan deities and demons were after them, who knew how humans would view them.
Mick let out a soft snort. "Angels," he repeated dubiously. "On Earth?"
"Like I said, we're not from this dimension. We ended up here by accident. We were hoping the Men of Letters archives might have a way to send us back. In our world, we're allied with two legacies who reestablished the Lebanon chapter house in 2013." Castiel hesitated. "We've even worked a few cases with the British Men of Letters."
He just wouldn't mention how that relationship was precarious at best, given the British Men of Letters had started things off by kidnapping and torturing Sam. But they had helped on a few things since then, and seemed to have invaluable resources.
"Mick Davies," Castiel went on, nodding to the gentleman. "Do you still call yourselves the British Men of Letters in this world?"
Mick gaped at him, his cool mask finally cracking.
Castiel flicked his gaze around the soldiers again, aware of how tenuous the situation was. "I can tell you the layout of the bunker, and which shelves certain books are on. Assuming the Men of Letters in this universe used the same cataloguing system. If you need more proof."
Mick was silent for a moment, and then finally raised a hand, signaling for his men to lower their weapons. Castiel released a relieved breath.
Mick was now gazing at them with fascination mixed with awe, not unlike Sam's reaction upon Castiel's first meeting with him.
"And you're angels," the man said.
Castiel nodded slowly, still on guard about that. "Yes. My name is Castiel. This is Gabriel."
Mick's brows rose sharply in disbelief. "The archangel?"
Gabriel huffed and said under his breath, "So I am still famous."
"All we have is lore," Mick replied. "Angels haven't been seen on Earth in over millennia. Some even say they're myth, though the history of the rise of the pagan deities suggests there is truth to your existence." He shook his head. "And now you're here."
"Yeah," Gabriel said a tad stiffly. "But we'd rather not be. So I don't suppose you guys know of a way to help send us back to our own universe?"
Mick's mouth pinched. "I've never heard of anyone opening portals between alternate dimensions, but it's possible there could be an obscure reference in the lore somewhere. Unfortunately, our resources are limited and stretched thin simply trying to mitigate the pagans' destructive tendencies."
Castiel frowned contemplatively. "You're fighting against them? From what I've seen, it's…accepted that they're in power."
Mick scowled. "Accepted by most, yes. Most people don't believe it's possible to stand up to a demigod. And the pagans don't engage in mass destruction, but they're not peaceful, either. The Men of Letters was established as a covert group interested in studying our enemies and doing what we could to save lives." His expression fell. "It's an endless task, with little ground to be gained." Mick paused, eyeing them considerably. "According to history, the angels were the only ones matched enough to take them on. Perhaps you can help us."
Castiel exchanged a glance with Gabriel. It sounded like in this universe, the Men of Letters were an underground resistance group, and while their cause sounded just, this was a world Castiel had no intention of getting entrenched in.
"Unfortunately, we're cut off from Heaven here," Castiel admitted. "Our powers are considerably less than that of the pagans. I assume because they apparently stockpile human souls as sources of power."
Mick nodded gravely. "The afterlife for humans is nothing to look forward to. Which is why we're trying to do what we can in the hopes that one day we might weaken the pagans enough and the angels might decide to return."
Castiel grimaced automatically; Heaven getting involved in affairs never worked out well in his own universe. But maybe things would be different here.
"There's not much we can tell you," Gabriel added. "In our world, the pagan religions simply died out, leaving the demigods only semi powerful and mostly nomadic. Anything we would have used against them probably wouldn't apply in this universe."
Mick looked disappointed. "But, you would still make powerful allies. And you said so yourself, you're allied with the Men of Letters in your world."
"A world we really need to get back to," Castiel pressed. "It may not be overrun with pagan deities, but we've got our own problems, like Lucifer's unborn child potentially destroying the world."
Mick blinked at that, but then his expression settled into grim resignation. "Very well. I will have some people start looking through our resources on anything that might help you." He paused and cleared his throat. "But in the meantime, perhaps you can help us with a few missions in return. I understand you might not be equipped to dethrone a demigod, but we have other situations we're attempting to deal with, such as a monster that's taken up residence in a large housing project and has been picking off tenants. The pagan deities won't do anything to protect their subjects, which means it's up to us." Mick sighed. "But so far we've lost three men trying to kill this beast, and it will continue to use the neighborhood as a feeding ground if we don't stop it."
Castiel's mouth turned down. He supposed the request wasn't outrageous, and Mick had agreed to help them…
"Alright," he said.
"Seriously?" Gabriel groused.
Castiel turned toward him. "I would think you wouldn't want to pass up an opportunity to have your praises sung. I'm sure the British Men of Letters would make certain all their lore books would include this brave act of Gabriel the archangel."
Gabriel narrowed his eyes, but then let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Let's go save the peasants."
Mick smiled. "Excellent." He motioned toward one of his men. "Rupert, call Evangeline to get her team working on alternate worlds. Hold down the fort here and take a look through the catalogue in case the Lebanon chapter house has anything. We'll hopefully be back in a day or two."
He then nodded to his men, who began filing toward the stairs.
Castiel quirked a brow at Mick as he followed. "You're coming?"
Mick frowned. "Of course. I'm the leader of this unit."
"Oh."
"Why? Something the matter?"
"No. It's just…the Mick Davies I met was more the manage-from-headquarters type."
Ketch was the get-his-hands-dirty operative. Castiel almost asked where he was in this universe, but decided against it.
Mick's expression darkened for a moment. "Ah, well, everyone is needed in the field to keep up with everything."
"Do you work with hunters?" Castiel asked curiously as he and Gabriel followed the men up to the garage where three black SUVs were parked.
"Hunters?" Mick repeated dubiously. "I don't follow."
"Right. I suppose in this world, you are the hunters," Castiel amended.
Perhaps circumstances had led the British Men of Letters organization to have more humanitarian goals. They certainly seemed interested in saving lives.
"How far do we have to go?" Gabriel asked once they'd climbed into a vehicle and got on the road.
"Seventy-two miles," Mick replied. "We should arrive in a little over an hour."
"What type of monster are we dealing with?" Castiel asked.
"Based on the limited glimpses we've gotten, we've narrowed it down to three to five creatures with spikes. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to positively ID it, which has made it difficult to know how to go in fully prepared."
Mick reached for a briefcase under the seat and opened it, then pulled out some files which he handed to Castiel and Gabriel.
"These are what we figure we're potentially dealing with. Have you had any experience with them?"
Castiel scanned the printouts. "No."
Gabriel lifted one picture and tilted it. "Eesh, I hope it's not this one. They explode like pustules when they die."
Mick's brow furrowed as though he didn't know whether Gabriel was joking or not. Castiel guessed not.
They spent the rest of the drive reviewing the files, but Mick was right: without knowing exactly what they were facing, they couldn't go in fully prepared.
The SUV eventually pulled up alongside a curb and the men started climbing out. Castiel exited the vehicle and found himself gazing up at an aged building of at least ten floors. It was huge, but while it also appeared lived in, it was also in obvious disrepair. Housing for low income families meant lesser quality upkeep. Castiel tried to imagine a monster simply roaming around the place, and it baffled him. Such a thing would be practically unheard of in his universe.
But they weren't in their world; they were in this one.
"Victims have been taken from the first, fourth, and tenth floors," Mick reported. "So we're not sure where it might be nesting, or if it's just constantly lurking."
"No bodies have turned up?"
Mick's mouth pinched into a tight line. "No one's gone looking hard enough."
Castiel gaped at him incredulously. "And people stay?"
Mick shrugged. "They have nowhere else to go."
Gabriel nudged his way forward, materializing his angel blade. "Well, now the exterminators are here."
"Gabriel, we should be careful," Castiel warned.
The archangel waved a dismissive hand. "I got this." He started striding toward the building.
Castiel rolled his eyes heavenward before hurrying to keep up, dropping his angel blade into his hand as well.
Mick and his men filed in behind them.
They entered the building, everyone doing a visual sweep with weapons raised. There were some children's bicycles under the left stairwell, covered in dust. One of the light fixtures buzzed and flickered. The wallpaper was peeling. And there was a rust colored stain on the floor a few feet away that no one had bothered to clean up. Deep gouges rent the concrete through the dried blood.
"It's like a B-horror film," Gabriel muttered, and continued down the hallway deeper into the building.
Castiel strained his ears to listen for any unusual sounds, but so far everything seemed silent.
Until they came to a door that led down to the boiler room. It was cracked open, and Castiel saw a flash of yellow low to the ground, and he called out a warning.
Gabriel jumped back just as the beast barged out of the stairwell. Claws skidded across the concrete floor as the thing scrabbled to spin around, spitting a snarl at them. It had an almost feline body, with scales on its hide under patches of fur, and a tail lined with spikes.
"Ooh, hey there, kitty," Gabriel crooned.
The monster gnashed its teeth at him.
He waggled the fingers of one hand. "Bring your pretty face to my blade."
The beast lunged, and Gabriel darted to the side, swiping his weapon. It scored a gash across the creature's shoulder, eliciting a howl as the beast darted around. With a roar, it opened its maw wide and belched out a cloud of hot breath right at Gabriel.
The archangel wrinkled his nose and waved his hand to clear the air. "That's just nasty." He went still, mouth turning down into a frown. And then his eyes widened. "Oh."
He started to sway, eyes rolling back.
"Gabriel!" Castiel arched his arm back and threw his blade, landing a hit in the creature's side between two ribs before it could pounce on the archangel. The beast reared back with an ear-splitting shriek, and then bolted back down the stairs it had come up from.
Castiel hurried to Gabriel's side just as he finally collapsed to the floor. "Gabriel? Gabriel!" He seized his brother's shoulders and gave him a rough shake, but got no response. Putting a hand in front of Gabriel's mouth, he at least felt a puff of breath.
Mick rushed over and dropped down next to him. "What was that?"
"Mishipeshu," Castiel growled. Which he could now confirm after seeing its poisonous breath in action.
Mick's eyes widened. "Will he be alright?"
Castiel gritted his teeth; he couldn't help Gabriel's healing along. "He should be." Glancing at the stairwell, Castiel snatched up Gabriel's blade and stood. "Stay here. If it doubles back up, shoot it with everything you have."
"Should you be going alone?" Mick questioned.
Probably not, but he wasn't about to risk human lives. Without giving a response, Castiel swept into the stairwell. His eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness, catching sight of slick drops of black blood on the steps leading down. He ventured down cautiously, senses peeled for the creature. He heard a shuffle further into the boiler room, and a chittering sound.
Gripping the angel blade tightly, he strode forward. He'd have to avoid getting a face full of the beast's noxious breath if he didn't want to become the mishipeshu's next meal.
Something skittered to his right and he whirled toward it. A growl rumbled from the darkness just before a shadow pounced. Castiel ducked to the side and spun around. So did the creature. Castiel lunged, driving the angel blade down into the center of the beast's back right above where its vital organs should be. The blade sank down to the hilt and the mishipeshu screeched. Castiel grunted as something pierced his side, and he stumbled back in surprise. Glancing down, he saw a spike sticking out from his abdomen. He'd been so focused on avoiding the front end, he'd forgotten the rear was just as deadly.
The mishipeshu dropped with a thud to the floor, letting out one last wheezing breath before falling still completely. At least Castiel had managed to kill it.
He wrapped his hand around the spicule and clenched his jaw as he yanked it out. Pain tore through him, almost bringing him to his knees, but he managed to keep himself on his feet. His grace flooded the wound, trying to repair it, though he knew it wouldn't be instantaneous.
Castiel limped over to the dead monster to retrieve the two angel blades stuck in its hide. He pulled them out with a squelch, then froze as another chittering sound issued from the darkness. And then another responded.
Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach as shapes began slinking across the room toward him. They were much smaller than the mishipeshu, but moved in the same manner, and several sets of yellow eyes gleamed eerily at him.
It was a nest.
That must have been why the creature had settled here—a dark place to hatch its young, complete with a large food source to pick and choose from.
Fists clenching around the two angel blades, Castiel readied himself for another round.
o.0.o
Gabriel groaned as he woke to the sensation of someone operating a jackhammer inside his head. He'd never been this hungover before. A sharp scent of ammonia wafted up his nostrils, jolting him, but the abrupt movement only made his head pound more.
A hand settled on his shoulder and a British accent said close by, "Easy."
Gabriel pried his eyelids open. "Ungh, what happened?" He was beginning to realize he had not gotten drunk hanging out with porn stars. Unless this British Man of Letters had a night job.
"You were knocked out by the creature's breath," Mick Davies explained as he capped the small container of smelling salts and pocketed it. "Apparently it's toxic. Castiel confirmed it's a mishipeshu."
Gabriel slung an arm over his eyes and moaned again. Great. Those were nasty buggers. "So did we kill it?"
Mick shook his head. "It retreated down to the basement. Castiel went after it."
Gabriel blinked, and then shot upright to take in the hallway. Though his vision blurred for a moment, he counted all the men in their unit. "Alone?" he exclaimed.
That idiot!
Mick was frowning at him. "He told us to stay here and guard the exit."
Gabriel struggled to get to his feet, and Mick reached out to help him. "Where's my blade?"
"Castiel took it. He threw his at the creature and hit it, but the blade was still stuck when it ran off."
Oh, that was just fantastic.
Gabriel stormed toward the stairwell door. Mick and his men followed, still armed with their assault rifles. Not too far from the base of the steps was the slain body of the mishipeshu. Gabriel had a moment of feeling impressed with his baby brother, but then a high-pitched shriek sounded from another part of the boiler room. Gabriel broke into a run, the pounding boots of the military men keeping pace behind him.
They rounded one of the large boilers and careened to a stop at the sight of two more creatures strewn across the floor, black blood pooling beneath them. And three more were hemming Castiel in where he'd collapsed against the far wall, the angel's clothes tattered and spattered with blood.
Gabriel instinctively shot out his hand and summoned his grace. A blue aura filled the air around him as his power lit up, and a second later, the baby mishipeshu that was closest to Castiel burst into flames. It reared back with raging shrieks as it flailed against the divine fire.
The Men of Letters, in good form, didn't even blink, and the soldiers emptied their clips into the remaining two monsters. When the other one disintegrated into ash and the fire extinguished, the place fell silent.
Gabriel practically sprinted across the room toward his brother. Castiel tried to get up, but ended up sagging back against the wall, face scrunching up in obvious pain. Gabriel counted several slashes across his chest, legs, and one arm. And a rather large stain of bright crimson in his side that didn't look like it'd come from claw marks.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Gabriel snapped, dropping down beside him and holding a hand over the wounds. Golden light suffused from his palm, but right away Gabriel could sense that he didn't have enough juice to heal Castiel fully. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he turned his attention to at least mending the major internal damage.
"The mishipeshu was wounded. How was I to know there was a nest?" Castiel replied, then sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Gabriel magically suctioned out the blood pooling in his liver and melded the organ back together.
"And you say I don't think things through," Gabriel carped.
His grace flickered and sputtered, and then fizzled out. He clenched his fist.
"I can't heal any more."
He'd barely done enough as it was. The jagged fissures in Castiel's flesh were still oozing blood and his pallor was getting paler by the minute.
"I thought angels were invincible," one of the humans said under his breath.
Gabriel almost snapped his fingers to give him an ass's ears, but was distracted by Mick pushing his way through to crouch down beside them. The leader of the Men of Letters unit took out a first aid kit from one of his vest pockets and ripped it open.
"Dispose of the bodies," he told his men. "And call Rupert to see if the Lebanon chapter house has a fully stocked infirmary. If not, have him go out and get supplies." Mick glanced between Castiel and Gabriel. "Will you make it back there?"
"Yes," Castiel answered hoarsely.
Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line. They were over an hour away from the bunker. Though it wasn't like there was another place they could go. Even if a human hospital could help, there was no telling whether the doctors would ring up their local deity and report the arrival of two fugitive angels.
Mick started applying pressure bandages to Castiel's various wounds while the others dragged all the corpses to one location and set them on fire.
When they were ready, Castiel tried to stand, stubbornly insisting he could walk to the vehicles. Gabriel waited the two seconds it took for exhaustion and blood loss to kick in, and then stepped in to catch Castiel when he passed out.
"I gotcha, little brother," he said for Cas's ears only as he turned and carried him out of the basement.
o.0.o
Castiel woke groggily to the feel of a soft mattress beneath him and scratchy blankets tucked around him. The smell of concrete and must was also familiar, and he wondered why he'd fallen asleep in his room in the bunker. But then as he started to shift, dull pain lanced across his torso and legs, and he realized he hadn't been sleeping; he'd been unconscious.
"Finally," a voice muttered. "You were giving Sleeping Beauty a run for her money."
Castiel blinked blearily at the figure sitting in a chair by the bed. "Gabriel?"
Memory came crashing back—the alternate universe, being trapped here, the hunt with the British Men of Letters. So this wasn't his room, and it wasn't his home. He tried to sit up.
Gabriel shot a hand out to push him back down. "Whoa, take it slow, kiddo. You're still not fully stitched back together."
Castiel eased back against the pillow, but lifted his head to glance down at himself. He couldn't see under the blankets, but he felt the bandages wrapped securely around his chest, stomach, legs, and arm.
"There was a nest," he said.
Gabriel's expression darkened. "Yeah. I'm still ticked about that. You should have waited for me."
"You're the one who went charging in first and got knocked out," Castiel mumbled, letting his gaze drift up toward the ceiling. His heart constricted with a deep sense of homesickness.
Gabriel huffed. "Yeah, okay."
Castiel turned his head and arched a surprised brow at the admission.
Gabriel shrugged blithely, though his next statement was made in seeming all seriousness. "Next time we try going in together."
Castiel regarded him for a prolonged moment, but then slowly nodded.
Footsteps drew his attention toward the door as Mick walked in, dressed in a casual suit that looked more like the other world's Mick.
"Glad to see you're awake," he said genuinely. "Gabriel seemed concerned there for a bit."
Castiel glanced at his brother, who was pointedly avoiding eye contact. He pushed himself up a little further so he wasn't lying down completely.
"Thank you for your help," Mick went on. "Now that we know there was a nest, I truly believe a lot more of our men would have died trying to eradicate it. You've saved many lives."
"Almost at the cost of his own," Gabriel muttered.
Castiel shot him a chiding look, but there was a measure of fondness in it. He turned back to Mick. "Thank you for letting us stay here while I recovered."
Mick quirked a brow at him. "Of course." He shifted his weight. "I am afraid I have some bad news."
Castiel automatically tensed.
"The Men of Letters don't have a way to send you back to your world," Mick continued regretfully. "However, there is a witch we know of who may have enough power to do it, if you dare to go down that road."
"We don't have a choice," Castiel didn't hesitate to reply.
Mick nodded gravely. "You should probably wait until you've fully recovered before seeking this witch out. She's very dangerous."
Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. "We're used to danger by now."
"This one's different. She rivals the pagans."
Castiel's mouth turned down. "Who is it?"
"Rowena MacLeod."
Castiel thunked his head back against the headboard with a groan.