Chapter 17 - "Don't damage the goods love."
Something was terribly wrong.
She was sprawled on the cold hard tiles of the bathroom, sweating despite the December chill that had caused the inside of the windows to frost up and her breath to steam before her eyes like smoke.
Her plan had been to sit in front of her message and hide it when they came for her, but she felt like her weight was pining her to the dirty floor.
She had to move.
At least her hand didn't hurt anymore.
Move.
She rolled over, the cuffed arm pinned awkwardly above her. Hanging like she was reaching up for something. Someone.
Move!
Her ruined hand was still oozing blood. She slapped it on the tiles where she'd scratched out the registration, and wiped a bloody hand print over the top, then added another and another.
Funny.
She couldn't feel the tiles.
Sweat pattered onto the floor next to her but she shivered none the less.
I tried.
I tried.
The silence in the Impala was palpable.
Cas was sat in the back with Bobby, and although he looked like he was gazing out the window, he could still see the confused little glances Dean and Sam were giving each other.
He gripped the handgun lightly, like an extension of his arm.
Too tight and it became a wild animal you had to cling onto for dear life so it didn't bite you, too loose and it slipped from your grasp.
It scared him how easily he held it.
He'd swore never to pick up a gun again.
But then, he'd swore to never hit anyone either.
In for a penny in for a pound.
Some people were worth breaking oaths for.
- Warriors of heaven. It's not enough to be the word of God, sometimes you have to be the sword of Michael.
Elijah walked slowly past the boys, each one stood facing paper targets stuck to hay bales, an assortment of firearms in their hands.
- The day may come when the forces of Satan try to silence us. Try to take the knowledge of the pure language from us. And we will be ready. The center of your target is the heart of sin boys. Mark it well.
He had shot the middle every time.
It seemed natural for Castiel to hold his handgun lightly, to see his mark as the gun would, to shoot true.
Elijah's hand had fallen heavily on his shoulder and Castiel had looked up into his face. A smile directed at him. The first in his whole short life.
His heart swelled with pride, and in that second he wanted nothing more than to exact that small measure of kindness from this imposing man again.
- The Sword of Michael.
Castiel stood a little taller as Elijah turned to the rest.
- Again.
"You know something?" Dean grumbled from the front seat. "When this is all over, you and Bobby have some explaining to do."
He dropped it though.
No time for stories.
"Are you fucking kidding me!"
She could hear Crowley's bellow echoing across the bathroom.
"I'm sorry." The pleading panic in Naomi's voice was shrill, it cut through the fog in Megs brain like a knife.
Someone pulling at her cuffed hand, a rattling of keys, arms lifting her from the floor.
Hot, angry breath in her ear as she was carried out.
"If she dies…. Fuck….. Do you have any idea what he'd do to me!"
"I'm sorry! I thought she'd be alright!"
Hurried footsteps across echoing concrete.
The cold hit her and she gasped, bright winter sun cutting through eyelids she was too weak to screw up.
A car door opened and she was pushed inside.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Septicaemia maybe? I don't know! I'm not a doctor!"
"How the fuck did she get that!"
"My instruments were clean."
The silence was frightening. Meg could almost feel the anger radiating from Crowley.
"Are you suggesting that I did this?"
"No! I….."
"Get in there with her." Crowley hissed "Pump her full of antibiotics, give her chicken soup, mutter some hoodoo over her, I don't give a shit, so long as she doesn't die until we get there. Do you understand? Because if she dies, you die."
Meg flickered her eyes open and saw the terrified, pinched face of Naomi looking down on her.
"What he meant to say." She whispered to her. "Was, if I die…. He dies…." Meg shut her eyes again and let herself drift off.
Dying would be ok.
If it meant Crowley died too then she was just fine with that.
Bobby went in first, shotgun leveled, eyes watchful.
He motioned for the others to follow ,and Cas slipped in, his posture relaxed, gun held at his side, he walked into the middle of the large room and stopped as the others fanned out.
The chair.
It stood in the middle of the room. Out of place.
He crouched down and pressed his fingers to the floor.
Blood.
"Place is empty." Dean called walking back through. "What you find Cas?"
He held up his fingers.
"She was here."
"Hey. Guys?" Sams voice rang through the building. Somewhere a bird flapped onto a different rafter, its wings sending motes of dust falling on them. "You need to come and see this."
They stood looking down on the mess in grim silence.
"Shit man. This doesn't look good." Dean held his hand to his mouth and shook his head.
The handcuffs were still hanging from the pipes, vomit splattered across the floor…. and blood. On the wall, finger prints on the urinal, and a mess of bloody hand prints near the floor.
"That sick, limey bastard.." Bobby's voice shook with rage. "If he's hurt her…."
"I think it's pretty obvious he already has." Cut in Cas, crouching down to look, his fingers running across the palm prints.
A tiny smile twitched the corner of his mouth.
Such small hands.
He snatched his hand back and watched his own blood well from a tiny cut.
Frowning he fished in his pocket and found a tissue.
"Cas?" Dean was at his side.
"Look." He carefully wiped at the hand prints to reveal the scratches.
"Son of a bitch….." Dean grinned at Cas. "Clever girl." He whispered.
Sam leaned forwards. "It's a registration number….." He grabbed his phone and took a picture. "How are we going to use it though? Guys, this is great, but I don't think we have the time to find her like this."
"Sure we do." Bobby muttered. "Sam, you come with me."
As they left, Cas stood up straight, wiping his hands down the front of his jeans.
"You still with me buddy." Asked Dean hesitantly.
Cas nodded then looked at him sorrowfully. "I'm sorry. About earlier…"
"It's fine."
"No… It's not."
He looked away, embarrassed.
"You've done so much for me Dean, and I hurt your feelings, shouted at you…"
"Good."
"What?"
"Good! I'm glad you did. I'm glad to see you so confident that you can tell a friend to fuck off and leave you alone and know you can come back to that friend. I'm glad you don't feel like you have to swallow every negative emotion you have. Congratulations Cas. You're a human being!"
He smiled a little at Dean who beamed back like a proud brother.
Shaking his head, Cas took a deep breath. "I have no idea who I am, you know? I don't know what my personality is? What if I'm a real asshole?"
Dean punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Meh… If you turn out to be an asshole, I'll just have to beat it outta ya.."
He smiled fondly at Cas. "When this is over, you owe me a beer though. Come on. Lets go see what Pinky and the Brain are up to."
Somewhere a radio was playing.
Meg opened her eyes and carefully sat up.
She wasn't cuffed or tied up. She was lying on a bed, dressed in clean clothes, her hand bandaged, an IV running from the back of her good hand to a bag hooked on the bedpost.
Swallowing thickly she tried to work out where she was.
The room was modest but comfortable, not a motel room but someones house. It was warm, she hadn't been warm in two days.
Standing up she looked out of the window.
A sweeping drive disappeared into the trees, from this side of the window she guessed she was in someones vacation home. A cabin maybe.
"You should lie down. The IV won't work so well if you're stood like that."
Naomi walked through the door, a tray in her hands.
"Where's Crowley?"
"Downstairs with his guest."
Meg sat back down, her eyes glued to Naomi's every move.
"Why are you with him Naomi?"
She simply shrugged. "He was there when I needed someone."
"You see what he is though, right?"
Naomi didn't answer, just busied herself laying out food and meds on the bedside table.
"Seriously. He's a creep of the highest order Naomi. Did the Brotherhood make you like this? Why would anyone turn a love of God into love for a bastard like him."
"Shut up!" Naomi screeched. "You have no idea what its like to leave the compound and find your way in the world. No idea!"
Meg raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well Cas managed to not turn into a complete dick. What's your excuse?"
Naomi drew her hand back to slap Meg, but Crowley was behind her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to face him.
She stood pressed against him, her face pale with high spots of colour on her cheeks, her mouth open and trembling.
"Don't damage the goods love." He said softly.
"I'm sorry. " She whispered, lowering her eyes finally.
He pushed her out the door then turned to Meg.
"Glad to see you're feeling better."
"Oh I'll just bet you are."
"Quite. You have a visitor, so I'll leave you two alone for a moment."
She frowned as Crowley left, letting the stranger in.
"Meg." He said sadly, holding out his arms to her.
Like a punch to the gut, the air was stolen from her lungs.
"No!"
He nodded and moved towards her, his hand reaching out to caress her face.
"My poor child." He crooned, taking her face in his hands.
She could only stare, blinking away the tears before finally finding her voice.
"Lucy… You're alive!"