A/N: I did not watch this week's episode (though I read spoilers). I'm gonna wait to watch it right before the finale, and then I can unleash the muse to write whatever it wants in turn! Which will probably be that multi-chapter recovery fic I've been itching to do since February. In the meantime, enjoy the Cas whump in this story! ;)
Chapter 3: Enemy of My Enemy
Castiel stood in the back of the cathedral, gazing up at the towering, white-marble arches that rose into vaulted ceilings, also bisected by similar architectural angles. Light suffused through the paned windows high above, glowing with radiance as though looking into Heaven itself.
Of course, it was just a trick of the mind—a false, sentimental notion of Heaven as seen through the eyes of man. And yet, Castiel continued to hope that one of these times, the ethereal incandescence might prove to carry a trace of the divine, a sign of his father's presence.
The choir was currently rehearsing up at the raised platform, lilting voices adding a somewhat somber, haunting sound to the church. They were singing in Latin, "God with us." Too bad it wasn't true.
A high-pitched trill suddenly blared from Castiel's pocket and echoed throughout the massive cathedral. The angelic voices cut off as several heads turned to track the source of the raucous interruption. Castiel flapped his wings and quickly flew outside. Once on the sidewalk, he fumbled to get the annoying black box out of his coat. He'd forgotten to set it on vibrate again, not that he enjoyed having the thing suddenly jump inside his pocket, either.
"A prayer would have sufficiently gotten my attention," he said upon answering.
"I prefer the phone," Dean replied.
Castiel glanced back at the church. "Yes, well, I think the Saint Angelica choir doesn't."
There was a beat of silence before Dean apparently chose to ignore that comment. "So we got word on that vamp we were hunting a couple weeks ago."
"The one feeding on monsters." Castiel had tracked down the previous victims on the list Paul had given him. At first glance, the earliest victims had appeared human, but upon further investigation, Castiel discovered witchcraft paraphernalia in their homes. It wasn't conclusive, but seemed convincing enough. Castiel had also dug up another victim who had turned out to be a shapeshifter. It was very curious indeed, but since the vampire had disappeared, there was little they could do with the information, and the case had been 'put on the back burner,' as Sam had said.
"Paul called, said he picked up the vamp's trail. Looks like it's setting up shop again about two hours south of Sioux Falls."
Castiel frowned. "It didn't travel very far given the time period."
"Probably just laid low till it thought we were gone. Anyway, Paul asked if you were available to come help." Dean let out a small chortle. "I think he's a little starstruck by angels."
Castiel's brow pinched in confusion. "A human can't be hit with a star; they're gas giants. And the last time an angel threw one, it collided with another neutron star and exploded into a black hole."
He could almost feel Dean's eye roll on the other end of the line. "Riight," the hunter drawled. "Just get over here and we'll head out."
Castiel opened his mouth to say he could just meet them at the vampire's location, but Dean had already hung up. He cast one last, rueful look at the cathedral before spreading his wings and leaping into the ether.
The papers on Bobby's desk rustled when he landed in the study, and the older hunter slapped a hand down to keep them from falling to the floor.
"Would it kill you to learn to use a door?" Bobby scowled.
Castiel canted his head toward the foyer. "No."
"Then make a note of it," he snapped.
Castiel had 'made a note of it' before. But he was beginning to suspect that the phrase was less of a suggestion, and more of a veiled command. Why did humans have to speak in such roundabout ways? The more time Castiel spent with them, the more he could look back on conversations and decipher the meaning he'd missed the first time around. He remembered Jo making an obvious comment about door handles, but what she'd probably meant was something more like, 'why don't you use the door handle?' Well, Castiel had learned to use the door when entering and exiting the Impala; he supposed he could learn to land outside and knock, too. What was fifteen feet to walk inside anyway?
Footsteps thumped down the stairs and Sam appeared. "Hey, Cas. Thought I heard you. We're almost ready."
Castiel figured now would be a good time to practice, so instead of flying out to the car, he walked out of the study and toward the front door. It seemed so tedious, though, having to turn the knob, pull the door open, and then close it behind him. Then there was the screen door that wanted to bang shut before he'd fully gotten outside. Flying would be so much easier.
But…who knew how much longer his wings would be functioning. He was slowly falling, cut off from the grace and power of Heaven. Sometimes his wings ached too much to fly great distances, and Castiel had taken to resting in various churches, hoping even that small connection to Heaven might revitalize him. It didn't, at least not to the degree he always hoped. He really needed to start acknowledging his future limitations and getting used to them now. Like with how Sam and Dean insisted he eat, even though he didn't need to. They never said it, but Castiel could tell the boys were thinking it—someday he would need to.
He went to stand by the car and wait for them. It was odd to think that he used to dislike riding in the Impala, such a slow and confining method of transportation. But he'd grown accustomed to it, and didn't mind it at all anymore. Rather, he enjoyed the Winchesters' company. It was their encouragement and constant camaraderie that gave Castiel the fortitude to believe he could survive what lay ahead for him.
Sam and Dean came out, and the three of them piled into the vehicle and turned south. The two-hour drive was spent reviewing what they knew about the vampire, and then periods of simply listening to Dean's favorite rock and roll tapes. Castiel was growing used to many human things, but Dean's music tastes were not one of them. He'd learned early, though, not to say as much in front of the older Winchester lest he invite a lengthy lecture on the merits of the genre.
They finally pulled off the highway and drove down a long stretch of gravel road until they came to an old farm. Paul was already there, leaning against the tailgate of his truck.
"Thanks for coming," he said as the Winchesters and Castiel climbed out.
"No problem," Dean replied, going around to the trunk to retrieve their weapons. Paul already had a machete latched to his belt loop.
"How'd you track the vampire here?" Sam asked, looking around at the overgrown yard and rusted tractor sitting next to a tangled mesh of wire fencing. Castiel tipped his head up to listen to the faint breeze. Everything seemed still and quiet.
"Got word from a buddy that something was tearing up animals around these parts," Paul replied. "Figured our vamp was trying not to draw attention by going after people." He gestured to their surroundings. "Place is pretty big. We should probably split up."
Dean hefted his machete and shrugged. "Alright."
"Uh, mind if the halo comes with me?" Paul asked. "No offense to you two, but that was some badass shit back in that sewer."
Dean tossed Castiel a cheeky look that suggested perhaps Paul was delivering a compliment. But again, Castiel heard the English words; they just didn't make much sense strung together that way. Not to mention he did not have a halo.
"Sure," Dean said. "Holler if you find something." He nodded to Sam, and the two headed off toward the house.
Paul grinned with anticipation. "Let's go bag us a vamp." He started in the opposite direction, and Castiel followed, eyes and senses peeled for any disturbance.
"It's very isolated out here," he said. "Not a vampire's preferred environment."
"Maybe not, but I trust my source," Paul replied. He cocked his head toward the barn before turning that way.
Castiel roved his gaze over the outer planks with peeling red paint. This property had not been inhabited in several years, and would perhaps make a good nest for another type of monster that might have drawn this particular vampire. But Castiel still couldn't detect signs of anything if that were the case. He couldn't tell if his senses were merely not as strong as they used to be, or if there was nothing here.
The barn door creaked as Paul dragged it open a few inches in order to squeeze inside. Castiel slipped through behind him, coat snagging on a splinter and tearing a thread loose. He eyed it dispassionately for a moment, wondering if he should bother to fix it. But Paul was moving deeper into the barn, and Castiel did not want to let his guard down. He strode after the hunter.
"I don't sense anything in here," he said, sweeping an intense gaze over the dust-covered floor, bales of hay, and abandoned farm equipment.
Paul glanced up at the loft, eyes narrowed as though he, too, had super sensory abilities. Castiel followed the hunter's gaze. A second later there was a tiny metallic click, and before Castiel could react, Paul had thrown a lit lighter on the ground. A trail of oil ignited in a running line all the way around Castiel, bursting up into a wall of flame when the two ends connected.
Castiel whipped his head back and forth in alarm. "What are you doing?" How had this man gotten his hands on holy oil?
Paul came to stand in front of him, the now simmering flames a thin barrier between them. One Castiel could not pass.
"It's nothing personal," Paul said with an apologetic grimace.
Castiel clenched his fists. Was he now the hunted? Paul had asked for him specifically to join them on this excursion. There was no way the hunter possessed an angel blade, though, and therefore couldn't kill him. Or…so he hoped. Castiel's strength was not what it used to be.
"I understand I'm not…human," he ground out. "But I am not your enemy."
"I know that," Paul replied. "And like I said, I have nothing against you. In fact, you seem alright in my book."
Castiel frowned. "Are you after the Winchesters?" He took a menacing step forward, even though the clear threat in his posture was belied by his obvious helplessness.
Paul rolled his eyes. "No, those guys are cool, too."
"Then what…?"
"The world's ending," Paul said. "We gotta do what we have to."
Castiel quirked a confused brow, but then movement in the back of the barn caught his eye. A six-foot man with dark skin and dreadlocks stepped out from behind the stalls. Castiel immediately saw his true nature, and was about to shout a warning to Paul, but the hunter glanced over…and didn't act surprised at all.
"This the halo?" the vampire asked, voice thick with a Jamaican accent.
"Yes," Paul replied.
Castiel shot the hunter a dumbfounded look. "You are working with the vampire?"
"The Devil is running loose. So in this case, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
Castiel glanced back and forth between them as the vampire stalked closer. "I don't understand."
"We're gonna stop the Devil," Paul said as though it were obvious.
Castiel's brows rose sharply. "How? How does killing monsters accomplish that? They're not part of Lucifer's army. Nor am I."
The vampire canted his head at the angel with a hungry leer. "You'll see." He nodded to Paul, who withdrew a dart gun from the inner fold of his jacket. The hunter raised it toward Castiel and squeezed the trigger.
The ensuing pinch of the needle piercing the front of his shoulder was minor, but the fire that erupted instantly afterward took Castiel by surprise. He staggered from shock and ripped the tranquilizer dart out. But it was too late; the substance was coursing through his veins like fire. How…?
Castiel blinked in bewilderment at the needle and the tiny drop of red beading on the tip. Demon blood. That's why it burned.
Paul fired again, and another dart struck Castiel in the chest, injecting more poison into his vessel. Castiel's vision blurred, and when he tried to snatch the dart out, he missed. His surroundings wavered as though he were flying, but his knees struck the ground hard instead.
Though his vision was darkening, Castiel saw the vampire start to drag out a headless corpse from behind the bales of hay and lay it out on the ground. Castiel was beyond making sense of anything at this point, all his senses feeling as though molten lava were cascading over them. His last thought was fear for the Winchesters before Paul shot him a third time and he completely blacked out.
Sam ran his gaze over the thick layers of dust coating the steps down to the farm house's basement. So far, there weren't any signs of someone being here, and the only disturbances in the years' worth of grime were his and Dean's own footprints.
Dean let out a frustrated huff. "Unless this vamp is incorporeal, no one's been in here for ages."
Sam nodded in agreement. "Maybe Cas and Paul found something."
Dean shrugged, and they turned to head back outside. It was just as quiet as when they'd arrived, but now there was the tang of something burning on the air. Sam half-turned and spotted a plume of smoke rising up from the back of the house. He smacked Dean's arm to get his attention, and then they were both running around to the backyard.
There were no sounds of fighting, just the crackling of a large bonfire as they drew closer. Sam and Dean rounded the last corner and pulled up short. Paul was standing in front of the blaze, hands in his pockets as he watched a body burn. He glanced over at them and grinned.
"Took you long enough. Me and the angel ganked the vampire."
Sam blinked at the headless corpse, charred beyond recognition. That was…fast. He'd actually started thinking this was a wild goose chase, that it was just a regular predator that'd been leaving kills everywhere.
"What'd it say about why it was killing other monsters?" he asked.
Paul's brow furrowed. "I didn't stop to ask."
Sam frowned. "Why not? That's not exactly a normal vampire thing to do. What if it was up to something?"
Paul shrugged. "Now it's not. Besides, the thing was pretty crazed when it jumped out at me." He pointed a finger at Dean. "Thanks for the divine backup there." Paul looked back at Sam. "Thing was probably just rabid."
Sam's mouth turned down further. If that was the case, the vampire wouldn't have been able to cover its tracks so efficiently, or skipped town when it knew hunters were getting close. Not to mention, a rabid vampire would've been killing monsters and humans indiscriminately. No, there had to have been a reason it was hunting other supernatural beings.
Dean was looking around the yard and fields beyond. "Where is Cas?"
Paul shrugged both shoulders again. "Don't know. After he decapitated the vamp, he said he had to go, and then just disappeared. He didn't go find you guys?"
Dean shook his head, a small scowl making its way onto his face.
The fire was dying down now that the body fueling it was little more than charcoal and bone. It all seemed…too easy. Granted, Sam had never seen Paul in action, so he really had no basis for judging the other hunter's skills. But even the Winchesters tended to come out a little scuffed up after a hunt. Paul looked as though he'd just stood back and watched Cas kill the vampire. Which, was pretty much what the guy said happened.
"Well," Paul said, turning away. "Guess you were right after all about all angels being dicks. But I appreciated the help anyway. I'm just glad this case is finally over."
Sam's mouth thinned into a tight line as he watched Paul walk back toward the vehicles. Why would Cas have taken off without saying anything to the Winchesters? Had something happened with Paul that made the angel not want to stick around? But still, Cas would've checked in with Sam and Dean, right?
"Think we should call Cas?" he asked.
"Dude probably went back on the God tour again," Dean muttered. "I think I interrupted it this morning, and he was a little peeved I called on the cell phone." Dean rolled his eyes, and started back toward the Impala.
Casting one last look around the once again tranquil farm, Sam shook his head and followed his brother. Maybe Cas did actually have somewhere to be. Sam would call later, see what he was up to.
The brothers said goodbye to Paul, and then climbed into the Impala to head back to Bobby's.
A/N: Oh no she didn't... Yes I did. :#