Mallory had never been more relieved to hear the sound of someone screaming. Of course, she immediately felt guilty for that reaction, but Amitiel was ignoring her. Before Rhodes could react, the angel darted around the taller woman into the hall, trying to pinpoint the sound of the screams.
The scent of demons struck her like a blow, sulfur reeking in her nostrils. Amitiel spat something in Enochian and manifested her sword before sprinting down the hall towards the screams. Behind her, the detective called Mallory's name, but Amitiel neither slowed nor stopped. There were demons in the hospital, and they had come for her and her brother.
She skidded around a corner, letting her stocking feet slide on the slick floor and flaring her wings for balance. There were two demons in the reception area, menacing several nurses with thick chains. "Hell spawn!" Amitiel barked. The demons whipped around to face her, hungry smirks growing on their faces.
"If it isn't the littlest angel," the male demon leered. "Thinks she's gonna prick us with that little knife!"
Amitiel didn't bother with taunts. She spun towards the demon, all whirling limbs and darting blade. She knew how to use her vessel's tiny size to her advantage, slipping right through the demon's guard to slam her blade him under his ribs. She twisted to make sure it was a killing blow and yanked her sword free.
She didn't see the female's chain until it struck her across the head, throwing her to the ground. The demon was atop her in an instant, stomping down on her sword arm and lifting the chain for another blow. Amitiel swept the demon's legs out from under her with one tawny-feathered wing and rolled to her feet. She lunged forward, striking the demon's arm out of the way and plunging her sword into the demon's gut. The demon screamed in pain and rage, clawing at Amitiel's face. The angel dragged the sword to the side, slicing open the demon's stomach. The demon fell to the ground, clutching at intestines spilling out of the wound. She made a strange mewling noise, blood bubbling from her lips. Amitiel crouch and sliced her throat, putting her out of her misery.
The girl stood there for a moment, chest heaving, spattered with gore. She looked from the corpses at her feet to the nurses still huddled against the wall. "Find somewhere to hide and remain there," she instructed them. "It will be over soon." She turned on her heel and nearly ran smack into Rhodes.
"What the hell is going on?" the detective demanded. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bodies. "Mallory, what did you do?"
With an annoyed expression, Amitiel pushed Rhodes gently but inexorably out of her way. "There are others coming," she said shortly. "If my brother and I leave, the rest of you should be safe. Do not attempt to detain us. I have no desire to hurt you." With that she ran down the hall to Castiel's room.
Castiel was sitting upright, pulling sensors and IVs free. Like Amitiel, he was dressed in scrubs rather than a hospital gown. "We must find Sam and Dean," he said as soon as Amitiel reached his side. She helped him to his feet.
"Mallory informs me they should be at the police headquarters," she replied, running a critical eye over Castiel's injuries. He was not nearly as healed as she would like, but they didn't have a choice.
"Lead the way," he said. Still holding on to each other, the two angels vanished from the hospital room.
They reappeared half a second later in front of the reception desk at the police headquarters. The receptionist let out a faint scream and recoiled from the two apparitions, one bloody and the other pale and bruised. Amitiel released Castiel, waiting to make sure he could stand on his own, and stepped toward the desk.
"Where are the two men being held?" she demanded. "The men who were brought in yesterday."
The woman cringed further from the angels and pressed an alarm button. Amitiel sighed faintly and walked past the desk. Castiel followed her, walking with extreme care. They paced down the hallways, searching for any sign of the Winchesters.
Twice, police attempted to accost them, and twice the angels subdued the humans while inflicting as little harm as possible. Amitiel stepped over the unconscious form of a downed detective and glanced over at her brother. He was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.
"Perhaps you should wait here," she suggested. He shook his head and pushed away from the wall.
"I am fine."
Amitiel pressed her lips together. As a general rule, angels didn't lie, but they were fully capable of fooling themselves. But she didn't press the issue. The emerged into a large open room, filled with desks in the center and ringed by glass-walled offices. The angels glanced around, failed to locate Dean and Sam, and prepared to move on.
"Mallory!" a voice called from behind them. Within Amitiel, Mallory cringed.
Shit.
Amitiel turned slowly to face the man who had called her vessel's name. He stood in the doorway of one of the offices, dressed in a tan suit, his silver hair impeccably groomed. His expression was slightly confused and mostly annoyed. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "What is going on?"
"Mallory, who is this?" Amitiel asked impatiently.
Mal cringed again. He's my dad, she admitted reluctantly.
"I see." Amitiel tilted her head slightly to the right. She considered her options for a brief nanosecond, her mind working at angelic speed. Humans would only notice a heartbeat of time, but it was long enough for Amitiel to come to a decision. She turned her back on the man and looked at Castiel. She nodded toward the door on the far side of the room and the two angels began to move away.
"Mallory! Come back here!" Amitiel heard the man stride toward her and then he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. "What do you think you're doing? Why aren't you at the hospital?" the man hissed angrily. "Do you have any idea what a scene you are making?"
Mallory was more upset at this man's words than Amitiel had ever known the child, even when she first entered her, held prisoner in a rapist's basement. And that made Amitiel very angry. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and turned the full force of her glare on him, forcing him to stumble backwards in shock.
"I am not Mallory," she said in a deadly voice. "And she will never fear you again." She didn't have to grab Mallory's father by the throat in order to press her fingers against his forehead, and she didn't have to be quite that rough with him. But she did. Because he frightened Mallory, and Amitiel didn't like that.
As Congressman Donald Graves collapsed limply to the floor, Castiel gave his sister an inquisitive look. Amitiel replied with an entirely too innocent expression and once more nodded towards the far door.
They found Sam first. The door unlocked at a touch from Castiel and he pushed the door open. Sam tried to lunge to his feet, but he was handcuffed to the table and ended up in an awkward, huddled stance. "Cas!" he exclaimed. "What's going on?"
"We are getting you out of here," he replied, shuffling over to Sam and releasing the handcuffs. As they fell from Sam's wrists, the young man stared at the angel.
"We don't have much time," Amitiel said impatiently. "Belial's followers are coming for us and the receptionist called security." She glanced down the hall. "Which has just now arrived. Where is Dean?"
"I don't know," Sam began, but neither angel was listening. They had already moved down the hall, checking each room as they passed. Dean was in the third door down. His reaction was much more relaxed. He stayed in his seat, glowering at the angels when they appeared in the doorway.
"It's about freakin' time," he snapped, raising her cuffed hands. "How about getting me out of here?"
"You could be a little more grateful," Castiel muttered, unlocking the cuffs with a flick of will. Dean got to his feet and gave the angel a more careful look.
"Dude, you look like crap," he said bluntly. Castiel glared at him, a little blurry.
"Where's your car?" Castiel asked.
"I think it's in the impound lot, why?" Dean asked as they filed out into the hall.
"Because neither of us are in any shape to carry passengers," Amitiel informed him stiffly. She was standing at the end of the hall, her back to a door. From the other side came loud thumps and the sound of voices. "We need to leave."
Dean eyed the door warily. "Yeah. Sounds good. This way."
Amitiel nodded. "I'll hold them back. I'll join you at the car when you get there." The three men started walking away. "Dean!" The older Winchester turned back and she glared at him threateningly. "Don't let anything happen to my brother."
They took the fire escape to get to the lot without attracting more attention. Sam and Dean had to help Castiel down the stairs as he hadn't been able to fully purge the drugs from his system. While Sam kept the angel upright, Dean jogged down the rows of cars, looking for the familiar sleek lines of his Impala.
He pulled up beside Sam and Castiel with a spray of gravel and Sam bundled Castiel into the back seat. For a moment Dean hesitated, wondering whether to wait for Amitiel or go ahead and leave. He heard a soft thump and a quiet groan behind him. Checking the rear view mirror, he saw Amitiel slowly listing toward Castiel before finally coming to a rest against his shoulder.
"All right, let's get the hell out of here," Dean muttered, and stomped on the gas pedal.
XxxXxxX
Bobby recognized the sound of the Impala's engine almost as soon as it pulled into the salvage yard. He blew out a heavy sigh. He hadn't got advanced warning, which probably meant the boys were coming in hot and needed to lay low for a couple of days. He set aside the research he was doing for Rufus' niece out in Oklahoma and checked to make sure the coffee was fresh. Then he headed for the front door.
He swung it open and was confronted by the sight of Dean standing on the porch, one fist raised as if about to knock. The other arm was slung under Castiel's shoulders. The angel's customary suit and trench coat were gone, leaving him in hospital scrubs and bare feet. Sam waited behind Dean and Castiel, a teenage girl cradled in his arms.
"What the holy hell happened?" Bobby blurted, his eyes round with shock.
Dean smiled tightly. "We'll tell you all about it, Bobby, but can we come in first? Cas here might not look like much, but he's no lightweight."
Castiel lifted his head and glared groggily at Dean. "I told you, I'm fully capable of walking on my own," he muttered.
Bobby backed his wheelchair away hurriedly to allow the boys to enter. He cast a suspicious eye over the girl in Sam's arms. She was asleep or unconscious; she was so pale it was hard to tell. "Who's the kid?"
"That 'kid' saw the creation of the universe," Castiel said indignantly as Dean eased him onto the recliner.
"Easy, tiger," Dean told Castiel. "That's the Vicodin talking."
Sam went down on one knee to transfer the girl onto the couch. As he arranged her arms across her stomach, Bobby saw the blood spatters across the front of her shirt. Sam covered her up with two or three blankets. "Her name is Mallory," Sam explained. "She's the vessel of Castiel's sister, Amitiel. She fell around the same time Cas did."
Bobby looked around at the four of them. "Someone start at the beginning," he ordered.
Half an hour and three quarters of a bottle of whiskey later, Bobby took off his cap and rubbed his forehead wearily. "You boys sure know how to land yourself in the middle of a heap of trouble," he muttered, tugging his cap back into place. "So what do you plan on doing now?" he demanded.
"Get some rest and never go back to Detroit as long as I live," Dean quipped. Sam pressed his lips together and exhaled noisily.
"We're going to need to deal with Marax and Belial's other followers eventually," Sam pointed out.
"Not like this you aren't," Bobby told him. He studied Castiel for a moment, who had his head tilted back, eyes closed. The angel looked thinner than Bobby remembered, dark circles under his eyes. Bobby transferred his gaze to the other angel. She hadn't moved from where Sam had placed her. There was a yellow-green bruise on her cheek and her foot, poking out from beneath the blanket, was wrapped in dirty gauze.
"We're gonna need to change bandages on both of them," Sam spoke up, following Bobby's gaze. Castiel opened his eyes and lifted his head. Not asleep, then.
"My vessel's healing has resumed its normal rate," he said. His gravelly voice was slurred slightly.
"You still need clean bandages, dude," Dean told him, shaking his head. He got to his feet and eyed the stairs. "You know what, I'm just gonna bring everything down here so I don't have to keep dragging your ass around. Don't fall asleep."
"Angels don't sleep," Castiel muttered.
"They do when they're on, like, two thousand milligrams of Vicodin," Dean shot back, already halfway up the steps. Castiel grumbled something under his breath that sounded like Enochian and turned his head just enough to look at the girl on the couch. His face softened, becoming less weary, and at the same time more concerned. Bobby's brows drew together. It was the same look Dean used to get when he was a kid, nursing Sam back to health from some childhood illness. He continued to watch her until Dean returned with every first aid supply Bobby had in the house.
When Dean helped Castiel struggle out of his t-shirt, Bobby clenched his jaw at the sight of the angel's abdomen covered from hip to chest in bandages. Dean started at one on Castiel's left side, near the bottom of the ribcage. As Dean peeled the bandage aside, it revealed an angry, puckered hole as big as Bobby's thumb between the angel's ribs. A human wouldn't have survived a wound like that.
Sam, meanwhile, was working on the girl. He gently unwrapped the bandages covering both feet, re-wrapped them, and changed the bandages on a nasty-looking burn on her upper arm. Fetching a bowl of water and a washcloth, he rinsed dried, crusted blood from her white-blonde hair.
Bobby watched in growing horror as the extent of Castiel's injuries was revealed. The angel suffered Dean's ministrations silently, but it was clear he was still in pain. The boys, when telling their story, hadn't mentioned that Castiel had been brutally tortured.
Once the angels were finally cared for, Bobby and the Winchester boys retreated to the kitchen to let them rest. "You know you can stay here as long as you need," Bobby told them. Dean rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. No doubt he'd driven the fourteen-hour trip in one go.
"Thanks, Bobby," he said, sounding as weary as he looked. "I don't know how long it's gonna take Cas and Ami to recover. They've both been beaten to hell and Ami wasn't all that strong to begin with.
"Get some sleep," Bobby ordered. "We'll deal with the rest in the morning."