A/N: Wow, so many people liked this! I'm so happy, thank you! It really motivated me to crank out this next chapter. So, thank you everyone! Virtual apple pies for everyone!
I'm sorry this wasn't out sooner. I meant to post it yesterday, but forgot my laptop at home. -_- But here it is now! Enjoy!
Chapter warning (s): language, suggestive themes
Disclaimer: Sorry, I don't own Alice or Supernatural.
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Castiel was falling and he felt the world slowing down around him. It was strange, he felt like the Tardis travelling through time and space until he landed with a hard thump on the ground. He lay there for several minutes, trying to catch his breath. When he could finally stand, albeit on wobbly legs, he found himself in a warehouse of sorts.
Pulling the necklace from his pocket, he glanced at it thoughtfully. The gold glittered in the light. He slipped it around his neck his shirt for safekeeping. It was obviously important, but he had no idea why he felt the need to slip it out of its container and trick the yellow-eyed man. He had acted solely on instinct.
Glancing around, Castiel spotted the yellow-eyed man at the end of room and darted after him. "Hey!" He called, following the man down a series of hallways until he found himself at a door. Swinging it open, he darted out, only to grab on to the door for support. Not a foot in front of him, the ground disappeared.
He swallowed audibly, taking a large step back until he felt the wall against his back. "What is this place?" Heart pounding in his chest, Castiel looked around, feeling the fear that he was certainly not in Illinois anymore. Everything looked drab and gray, like a mist had settled in the city, permanently. There were hundreds of buildings that towered into the sky, narrow pathways connecting them all. But beneath the pathways, the ground dropped into nothing.
Before he could further investigate the strange city, he spotted the tall man to his right, darting around a corner. Making sure to keep far from the edge of the pathway, Castiel chased after the man again, all the while calling after him. He slowed when he rounded a corner, then took a step back to hide. Peeking around, he watched carefully. Two men were dragging an unconscious Balthazar into a white building. Yellow-eyes soon followed.
Once the four were inside the building, Castiel ran forward. Taking a deep breath, Castiel opened the door and peered inside. It was a hallway, but there were vines growing up the side of the walls. Before he could walk inside, a strange rumbling sound reached his ears. It sounded like a helicopter. He turned, looking for the source of the noise.
But what he spotted was what looked like a blimp. In a grotesque way, it resembled a reptile, possibly a dragon. Castiel pressed back against the wall, holding his breath as the thing passed. He couldn't explain it, but the thing gave him the creeps.
When a patch of sunlight broke through the mist and cast over him, a strange burning sensation hit his arm and he gasped in pain. Clutching his arm to his chest while stepping into the shadows and out of sight of the blimp, Castiel glanced at his arm. Through the thin material of the white shirt, he could see something dark. Rolling up the sleeve, he found black seared into his flesh in the shape of a "Q." He rubbed at it, hoping it would disappear, but the ink remained.
That was the least of his problems, though. He rushed inside the building; he had to find that man. Walking down the hallway, he stepped over vines, hoping that he wouldn't trip. It was rather dark inside, until he came to a fork. The left looked dark as well, but to the right there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
He should have known it was a trap before he stepped inside the room and the white walls began closing in on him. "Let me out!" He wasn't claustrophobic, but the walls were really shrinking. It stopped once it reached the size of a small box, with Castiel hunched over, knees drawn to his chest.
A small slot in the wall, much like a mail slot, slid open and Castiel could see a pair of yellow eyes. "Good, we have you. Take him away!" he yelled to someone else outside the box.
Castiel clambered forward as much as he was able to in the small space. "Hey, let me out of here!" The panic was loud to his own hears, but so was the anger.
The man chuckled and said, "Temper, temper, Castiel."
"What the hell is this place?" He asked, leaning forward against the wall.
"You shouldn't have followed me, little Angel," he said and closed the slot with a resounding bang.
"Come back!" Castiel cried and suddenly the room or box or whatever it was that he was in shook and swayed. The loud rumbling he heard earlier echoed in his ears and he figured he was inside that dragon blimp thing. Light seeped in from the bottom of the crate, as though it were some sort of trap door. He tried prying it open with his hands, sliding his fingers between cracks, but nothing seemed to work. Until his fingers felt a sort of latch. He pushed at it and suddenly floor gave way.
His stomach felt like it was in his throat and the scream caught as he fell, hitting water. It felt like forever that he was underwater, trying to find his way to the surface. When he finally broke the surface, he gasped, lungs breathing in as much oxygen as he could.
When his breathing slowed to normal, he spun around, realizing he was in some kind of lake. The box he had been inside was attached to the blimp, along with several other boxes dangling like bait on a fishing line. It was flying over a forest and away from the strange city.
The city seemed more logical than the forest, so he swam. When he finally reached the city, the water branched into something like aqueducts, running alongside the narrow pathways. Castiel was exhausted and could barely pull himself onto the path. He lay there for several minutes, breathing heavily and feeling like his arms and legs were made of jell-o. He was suddenly grateful that he walked everywhere he went because it kept him in fairly decent shape. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have made it.
He didn't even notice the dark skinned man with a knife standing above him right away. Castiel jumped to his feet, hands up in defense, "Wait, don't, just hear me out," he gasped, body running solely on adrenaline. But the man looked at him with awe, gazing at the strange tattoo on his forearm.
"You're a fuckin' Angel."
"J-just put the knife away!" Castiel pleaded and the man did so, mumbling words under his breath and starting to flee. He paused when another blimp passed over head. This one also had boxes dangling from it.
"If demons see us together, we'll both be dead!" the man said and moved away.
Castiel called after him, moving to catch up. "Wait, I need help!"
"I ain't helpin' no Angel!" He said gruffly, continuing to walk.
"But, I can pay you! I have some money," Castiel said, digging into his pockets and pulling out a bit of cash from his wallet. The man stopped and glanced at Castiel, seeming to consider.
"What's that?"
"Ten bucks. Look, I'm trying to find my friend, he was kidnapped and brought here. If you help me find him, the money's yours."
"An angel like you?" the man said doubtfully.
"Yeah," Castiel said hopefully, waiting for the man's reaction.
The man took the bill and sniffed it before shoving it into one of the many pockets on his coat. Castiel frowned, tilting his head. This was a very strange place. But he shrugged the thought off, holding out his hand. "I am Castiel."
"Castiel? Like a real angel?" The man suddenly seemed much more interested and he grabbed Castiel's hand, "Come with me!"
The man led Castiel around the city, and he felt almost dizzy with all of the twists and turns they took, until they stopped in an alley. He pulled the sleeve on Castiel's arm down, hiding the Q shaped mark. "They see that, Angel, you're dead."
"Who's they?" Castiel demanded but the man ignored him.
He nodded towards the building at the end of the alley way before instructing, "I go in, you count ten, then follow, got it?" The man didn't wait for a reply and ran forward, towards a building.
"But what's there?" Castiel shouted, almost desperate.
"The man who knows!" the man exclaimed and disappeared inside.
Castiel stared after him, noticing a flashing sign above the doors. The words read "The Roadhouse." Frustrated, Castiel followed slowly and entered the building. Inside was a sort of bar, loud and noisy. There were several dozen people inside, all chatting loudly. A marquee scrolled on the wall behind the bar, words like Happiness and Serenity scrolling across it.
A man stood behind the bar, taking orders. He had a mullet that, under any other circumstance, Castiel would have thought silly. But right now he was just trying to find the dark skinned guy. As he walked through the crowd, Castiel noted that behind the bar was not alcohol, but something altogether different. Clear bottles with brightly colored fluid sat on the shelves. Labels on them read Lust, Passion, Desire.
Two women sitting at a table were haggling over Excitement and Hope. "Sorry, no can do," said the woman with Hope. Castiel blinked and continued onward when he spotted the dark skinned guy motioning for him. Before he could get much farther, a sudden hush overcame the crowd. A woman stood on the bar and cleared her throat.
She spoke in a strong voice, "You ever get that guilty feeling? Huh? Abandoned the family and left them without a crumb? Or maybe you killed someone? And it's left that niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach and it's growing into a dull, throbbing pain? Growing stronger every day, until you think you might go crazy?" She paused, letting the words sink in, before finishing in a cheerful tone, "Well, I give you Clear Conscience!"
People shouted their approval, surging forward in hopes to purchase the liquid. Castiel took that chance to leave. "This way," the man motioned once Castiel reached him. He was led to a back room rather forcibly, where the ground turned to dirt and flowers, as though he were stepping into a garden. At the center of the room was a desk, bookshelves lining the walls. A man sat with his back to them as Castiel was led forward.
"Care for a drink?" The man asked, voice slightly deep and masculine, yet light somehow. But he remained sitting for the moment.
"No, thank you," Castiel said, "Who are you?"
At that, the man turned around in the swivel chair and Castiel had to fight the gasp. The man was beautiful, deep green eyes gazing over him critically, a hint of freckles over a strong nose and full lips. The man had short, light brown almost blond hair and tanned skin. Castiel had never really felt desire like this, not even with Balthazar. But this man and his voice and his eyes…
And speaking of those eyes, they gazed over him, and the look in them reminded Castiel of Balthazar, when he looked at him sometimes. Castiel shivered, this time not from the cold or fear.
"I'm Dean," the man said after moment, the expression gone. "I help run The Roadhouse."
Before Castiel could speak, the dark man took his arm, lifting up the sleeve to reveal the tattoo. "See?" He said as Castiel tugged his arm away and rubbing the spot.
The green-eyed man, Dean, stood, walking behind his desk with his back to the other two. "How did you break out of the Dragon?"
"The blimp?" Castiel questioned, head tilted in confusion. Dean turned to face him and nodded. "I just, I found a latch and—"
"Fell," he supplied.
"Into a lake. I'm soaked." The man smiled and nodded, once again raking his eyes over Castiel's form. Castiel knew the white shirt was clinging to his skin and probably see-through. But he tried not to think about that as he continued. "What is this place?"
"Oh, Purgatory," was his answer, tone light, almost cheerful, but completely serious.
Castiel blinked slowly, brows furrowing. "That's just a myth." Despite being raised by a religious father, point taken in his and his brother's name, he had never really believed Heaven and Hell, and least of all, Purgatory. This place was like a twisted Wonderland, falling through a mirror and into another world, but that was even more farfetched.
"Does this look like a myth to you?" Castiel shook his head. "It's changed though," the taller man said as he approached Castiel.
"So it's real?" He was doubtful, but right now he had nothing else to go on. It felt like a dream, but at the same time, he knew he was awake. His body ached in exhaustion that wouldn't be felt in a dream.
"You Angels don't know how to find us," Dean said, taking Castiel's arm and inspecting the mark. His hand was warm and calloused against Castiel's arm, sending a pleasant feeling through him where they touched. "You tell yourself that we don't exist, and to be honest, I'd like to keep it that way."
"Why am I an Angel? Because of this?" Castiel indicated the tattoo.
Dean made a noncommittal shrug, "That's the brand that Angels receive when they step into our world. And they call you Angels because of the Grace that you carry inside you."
"He's Castiel," the other man interrupted. He turned to Castiel and nodded, "Tell him."
"Is that so?" Dean sounded impressed, though Castiel couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or not. He had never been good with things like that. But when the man barked out a laugh, Castiel supposed that it was sarcasm. "Gordon here thinks you're the Angel of Legend," the man said as he slung an arm over the older man's shoulders.
"Who?" Castiel asked, brows furrowing as he stared intently at the green eyed man.
"A prophecy was made about an Angel of Legend, one that will smite Lucifer and return Purgatory to its glory days, but Gordon, it can't this guy," the man said, turning to Gordon. "He's just a regular ol' Angel."
"Well, I still want a good price for him," Gordon said in a firm voice, lifting his chin defiantly at Dean.
"Price?" Castiel stuttered, "I'm not for sale!" But the man merely held a finger up to silence Castiel. Gordon and Dean exchanged looks and the man moved behind his desk, pulling out a few bottles. He settled on a bright red liquid before returning to Gordon.
"Twenty Angels were drained of their Grace so you taste how it feels to win, just once. That excitement, that glory. Don't take it on an empty stomach, and only a drop at a time, otherwise you could die. Got it?"
Gordon agreed and took off with the strange liquid, leaving Castiel alone with the green eyed man.
"What do you mean, Angels were drained?" Castiel questioned.
Dean decided to ignore that question, "Gordon tells me you're looking for someone."
Castiel nodded slowly, not missing the fact that the subject was changed, "Yes, my friend, his name is Balthazar Roché. He was taken by a man with yellow eyes."
"Shit," Dean responded grimly, recognition lighting his eyes. "His name's Azazel. He belongs to an organization known as the Demons. They travel to your world through the Gate, bringing people from your world to ours."
Castiel frowned, "Why?"
"To use, in the casino."
"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Because whatever was being done to these… Angels… He was certain that Balthazar had been taken for the same reason.
"Oh, don't worry about it. They're fine, alive. Mostly happy."
The man seemed to be hiding something, but Castiel left it at that. That was the least of his concerns. He needed to find Balthazar, get them back home, and return the amulet. "How do I get there?"
"You don't. It's dangerous," Dean said, then smiled as he approached Castiel. "But, lucky for you, I know some people. Who know some other people, if you know what I mean," the man was merely inches from Castiel and he could feel his body tensing. What was it about this man that made him feel this way? The man smiled, little creases forming around his eyes, "Lighten up, you look like you wanna murder someone."
He moved away from Castiel and the Angel let out the breath he had been holding. A moment later, the man returned, with a tan overcoat. "You should wear this, keep you from catching a cold."
"I can't pay you," the shorter man said quietly, but Dean shrugged and held it out for Castiel, who stared at it with uncertainty. "Why would you help me?"
Dean moved behind Castiel, and he could feel the other man's breath on his neck. He tensed, not sure if he wanted to move away or lean into the man, shutting his eyes tightly, fists clenching. "Do I need a reason to help a pretty guy in a white, wet shirt?"
Castiel spun around, bewildered blue eyes finding the other man's, who merely laughed and handed over the coat. As Castiel slipped on the tan overcoat, Dean moved towards a door at the back of his office, "Try to keep up, yeah?"
Oooooo
A/N: Oh, and I decided to use Roché for Balthazar's last name (the actor who plays him—Sebastian Roché). Also, the tattoo on Castiel's arm was in reference to the binding link that keeps a demon sealed inside their vessel.
Comments, questions, and concerns are most welcome!