Part 3
Castiel stood amongst the overhanging trees, shivering violently in the cold night. He remained resolute, however, setting his jaw with determination. He'd come this far now… he wasn't backing down until something came of this wretched night.
He glanced at his watch, frowning to himself. He'd performing the forbidden summoning ritual over twenty minutes ago… shouldn't he have had a visitor by now? Sighing, Castiel watched the lazy puff of smoke float up to the cold skies before him, blinking sleep that threatened to overtake him from his eyes. Off in the distance, the sounds of rustling leaves, the lowing of a midnight creature filling the too still air around him. He shifted in his anxiety, glancing around. He was a hunter dammit! Things that go bump in the night shouldn't worry him. Yet, he couldn't shake the unmistakable anxiety that grew in his chest, threatening to flood up his throat and send him back screaming to the safety of his home.
Before he had the chance to consider it however, footsteps from behind him had the man spinning in place to come face to face with the one thing he'd been waiting for all night. Before Castiel stood the form of a beautiful young woman, her fair face marred with a terrible grin. Castiel swallowed, standing resolute before her.
"Ah, Castiel… I apologize for being so late… I had an appointment with a young man who wanted to sell his soul for a never ending supply of heroin. It was really a beautiful deal." She said her voice harsh in the night.
Castiel swallowed, watching her warily. "Demon… I-I have a proposition for you." He said, fisting his shaking hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure if the apprehension he felt came from the fear of confronting a demon face to face… or the disappointment he'd receive from Dean for his actions.
The demon smiled, crossing her arms over her buxom chest and sauntering up to him. "A proposition? How delicious. What is it you seek? The finest women, oh love of Dean Winchester's life? Or wealth? I can give you anything you want for a small price…"
Castiel balked, glancing at her. "No, none of that. I want… I want the life of my child restored to him. I will do anything you ask of me. Anything, but please…" he tapered off, eyes growing misty. "…I want my son back." He shamed himself for begging a demon for anything, but the desperation growing in the pit of his stomach gnawed away at any common sense he still had left. Eyes boring deeply into her crimson stained orbs pleaded for any hope she could give.
The demon laughed a deep guttural sound that chilled his bones in worse ways than the deepest freeze could. "Oh, what a delicious proposition Castiel! One of our most feared hunters, begging for the life of his baby boy!"
Castiel's disposition hardened at the insult, wishing he'd had the foresight to construct a trap. "I am quite serious. Please. What can I do?"
The demon wasted no time. She flew to his side, pulling him close to her body, hands groping firmly at his being. She hissed, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck as she contemplated the deal. "Hmm… it sounds truly enticing. How about we sweeten the pot a bit?"
Castiel froze, eyes widening at her sudden onslaught. He blinked down at her, shivering not from the cold. "W-what do you propose?"
The demon smiled up at him with the sultriest of gleams. "Bringing the soul of a lost one back is a great stake, Castiel. I need incentive. A soul for a soul you might guess." She purred, raking her sharp fingernails down his sides with abandon; shallow little welts bled against the cotton of his shirt.
Castiel growled deep in his throat, cursing the spike of sensations that rough action sent to his groin. He pulled away from her, glaring into her deep red eyes. "Demon, don't waste my time!"
"How about you don't waste MINE? You want your son back or not?" she snarled, teeth bared to him. She laughed again, seeing him visibly slump with the realization. "Now… about that deal…" Tapping her chin, she pretended to contemplate for a moment before a deliciously evil thought crossed her mind. "A soul for a soul… one as bright to you as the other. Hmm…" she snapped her fingers, turning to him. "I think your beloved Dean would make a fine replacement. After all, we only want the best of the best for our proposals, and one so intimately connected to the child as you would be a fine exchange…" The Demon absolutely relished the look of horror that crossed Castiel's face.
"No, Please! Not Dean…" he begged, taking a step towards her. "If you want a soul for a soul… take mine. Take me instead, but whatever you do, please don't hurt Dean."
A moment of silence passed between the two of them, the air hanging heavily.
"… I do believe this just got even better…" The demon replied finally, satisfaction on her face. She stepped towards him, taking his face in her too-cold hands. "Castiel, do you agree to this? Your soul for Alex's?"
Castiel paused for a moment, realizing just what he had done. "… Yes. I do."
"Good…" she breathed, leaning up. Her lips barely grazed his, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "We have a deal then. I will restore your son to you, but the final debt must be paid in one year's time. If you try to stop this then BOTH your adored Dean and Alex will die. Do you understand?"
At his silent nod, she pressed forward, breaching that last inch and sealing Castiel's fate with a kiss.
Dean awoke to the chill of the early morning air, blinking sleepily in the low light. He turned over, expecting to see Castiel lying beside him. Much to his surprise, his side of the bed was empty, the clothes discarded on the floor missing. "Cas?" he called, getting out of the bed and dressing quickly. He went downstairs, glancing about the too empty, too quiet rooms in the house with growing apprehension. "Cas!"
Dean stopped in the foyer, confusion and worry dulling his already exhausted eyes. Where could Castiel have gone? Perhaps he went on a morning jog again. Dean hoped beyond hope that that was the only reason for his husband's disappearance. Surely, he wouldn't be so stupid as to run off on his own…
Dean stumbled outside, taking in the fresh morning air to calm his nerves. He'd return, he told himself, hating what he had done the night before. He should never have given in; Castiel needed comfort, not pain. Rubbing a hand down the side of his face, he sighed, turning to reenter the house and prepare a hot pot of coffee for his husband's return.
He never made it that far. The moment he turned, his eyes caught sight of something down the lane; the lane leading to the forest. He blinked, his foggy eyes not catching what it was exactly he was looking at. But after a moment of contemplation, he froze, eyes widening in horror.
That path led to the crossroads in the forest, and what appeared to be a formless lump in the middle of the path took shape. It was a man crouched in the track, and in his arms laid a child.
A shock of dread slammed headlong into Dean's subconscious, hot bile threatening to well up and overpower him. He was running before he realized he had even moved, his bare feet slipping on the dew-damp grass beneath them. "CAS!" he screamed, his voice breaking violently in the morning air. He ran for his might, praying it was an apparition. No, it couldn't be…
He skidded to a halt, his knees scraping along the ground as he dropped next to his shivering lover. Castiel's face was deathly white, bite marks and bruises on his neck and lips. The t-shirt he wore had bloody lines staining the fabric in an all too familiar parody of fingernail scratches. The hunter before Dean made no indication to his presence, staring blankly at the ground before him. Dean swallowed the thick ire in the back of his throat, glancing down at the child wrapped in oily swaddling. He reached out with cruelly trembling hands to turn the child over, praying to God that it wasn't who he thought it was.
All too true, his fears became. The shock of white-blonde hair came into view first, solidifying his fears. He tugged the remainder of the cloth away, staring into the peacefully sleeping face of his once deceased son. "Alex…" he glanced up at his shaking partner, noting with dismay the wide, pupil blown irises, blood shot whites, and dark circles. He took in the bruised lips, the teeth marks, and his drained disposition. "Cas… Castiel, look at me."
He made no indication that he'd heard him, another chill wracking his gaunt frame in the early morning air.
"Shit…" Dean whispered, lurching to his feet. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, tugging him gently to his feet before guiding him and his once-dead child back to the house. Every other step he found himself slipping, being dragged down by the near-dead weight of his unresponsive husband. He growled in frustration, finally guiding him into the kitchen.
Dean knelt before Cas, having him sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He reached up, taking his cold face in his hands. "Castiel… Look. At. Me."
Finally, after a long moment, Castiel met his eyes, blue orbs filling with unshed tears. "D-Dean… I-I…" He was silenced as Dean pressed a finger to his split lips. Dean held him for a moment to his chest before grabbing the cordless phone from the table. With sure fingers, he dialed Bobby's number, hoping that the old man would be awake at this hour. "Bobby… it's Dean. We have a problem. Get Jimmy and Sam over here right now!" Indiscernible murmuring brought Dean's frustration back to the surface as he was promised they'd be there within the hour.
He hung up, throwing the phone onto the table. He pulled Castiel back into his arms, careful of the child between them. Dean pressed his lips to Cas' temple, a numbness filling his chest with what he knew was coming.
"Castiel, what have you done…?"
"CASTIEL, HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUCKING STUPID?" Jimmy screamed, shaking his brother's shoulders violently in his anger. He hated seeing the wounded look on his face, but God DAMMIT what had he been thinking?
"Son, screaming at him like that won't get the answers we want!" Bobby intervened, pulling Jimmy away from the shaking brother with force.
Jimmy rounded on the older man, his face twisted in fury. "But he KNOWS about everything! HE KNOWS! WHY WOULD HE DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS!"
"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH! JAMES, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND COOL YOUR BLAME FOOL HEAD!" Bobby roared, chasing the angered twin from the room. He turned back and grabbed Castiel's shoulder, gripping him firmly. "Son… what did you do? What deal has been made?"
"I already tried asking him that… it's like he's been struck mute." Dean said, sitting next to Castiel. He took his hand, anger and frustration quelled by his devotion and pain to see his lover to hurt. He rubbed his knuckles gently with his thumb, gazing into the blank eyes before him. "Cas… please look at me. You need to tell us what happened out there, ok? Please?"
Castiel blinked once, staring straight through Dean's head to the opposing wall. They'd managed to warm some color back into his skin, but the absolutely void gleam in his eyes remained as deep as ever, frightening them all. What exactly had the demon done to strike Castiel such a way?
By this time, Sam had returned to the kitchen, holding the oily clothes Alex had been wrapped up in. He tossed them into the trash with an offended wrinkle of his nose, turning back to the others. "Nothing yet?"
Dean shook his head. "No, nothing. Where's Alex?"
"He's in his room. He seems pretty alright, actually. The first thing he did was grabbed his GI Joe and started playing with it in the middle of the floor."
Dean nodded, kneeling in front of Castiel. "Alright. We're not getting anything out of him yet. You know anything about the Crossroads Lore, other than what we already know?"
Sam shrugged, pouring a cup of coffee for Dean and Cas. "Only that the deal made has to be sealed with a kiss or some carnal act, and the demon delegates when the payment is due."
Bobby frowned, glancing down at him. "Well we match criteria pretty damn well already…" he said, eyeing the bruises and bite marks all over the man before them.
Dean gritted his teeth, willing a swell of jealousy and anger down at the words. He couldn't be mad at Castiel for that. He'd done what he thought was right at the time… but fuck, it was just all… all wrong! He placed full blame on the demon bitch instead, trying to stay positive in Castiel's waning light. He reached out, running a finger along the underside of Castiel's broken lip, willing any sort of reaction from him… just to know that Castiel was still himself somewhere deep inside this near comatose figure.
"Well then we figure out how to break the contract. Demons aren't THAT smart." The unexpected response came from the doorway, startling the lot of them. The others looked up to see a clearly upset but much calmer Jimmy leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. "We'll figure out how to break the contract, and send that demon spawn packing."
"Jimmy, we don't even know what the price dealt was… when it is due. We know nothing yet! Before we go gallivanting into a situation, we need to know the facts." Bobby snarked back, glaring at the obstinate young man before him. He was beginning to grow tired of his rash behavior, reminding him far too much of a younger, more erratic Dean.
The option hung in the air between them all, tension thick enough to cut with the possibilities. Would it be even worth it? As the silence grew, a weak voice cracked the air, thin and gravelly in their wake.
"No…" Castiel breathed, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. As he spoke, the tremors in his shoulders grew more violent. He doubled up, curling in on himself as memories of what had happened before his eyes in the past month hit him full force, wrenching coherency from his being.
Dean turned quickly, grabbing his upper arms with gentle hands. "Castiel… what's going on? What sort of deal did you make with the demon? Tell us so we can help you."
Castiel looked up, the blues of his eyes almost washed out in the pitch black of his pupils. The sight of that alone brought terrified memories of a dream long suppressed into Dean's mind, swelling up with a tidal force previously unmatched.
He collapsed into Dean's arms, shivering in his grip. "You can't stop the deal… you can't! If you do, both you and Alex will die!
Dean remained frozen in place, rubbing his hands unconsciously across Castiel's back in soothing patterns. This wasn't how this was supposed to end… it just wasn't. "But… there has to be something." He whispered, burying his face in the crook of Castiel's neck. The fine hairs tickled his nose, bringing forth the tears he'd fought desperately to suppress, the salty tang running down his cheeks with abandon. "Please… there has to be…"
"No… there isn't."
The silence was near deafening. Jimmy turned away from the scene, fists shaking at his sides as he struggled in vain to think of any solution he could… anything to save his brother. The sounds of tinkling glass echoed down the hallway, a roar of frustration following soon after. No one reacted.
"How long do you have son?" Bobby whispered, fearing the answer he would get.
"One year…" Castiel replied, looking up at the elder hunter. A sort of resigned despair filled his being, dulling his ever dying eyes with foreboding and loss.
"But… that's enough time. We can think of something!" Dean begged, not ready to throw in the towel just yet. He looked a bit more determined, realizing they had at least that much more time to save his beloved Castiel.
No one saw the tiny form that shadowed the doorway, too engrossed in their thoughts to notice its sudden presence.
"Daddy…" came a tiny voice, tinged in confusion and worry. Castiel looked up, seeing Alex standing in the doorway. In his hands, the boy held a small toy truck, holding it to his chest with fervor. Alex approached his father shyly, crawling up into his lap immediately.
Castiel wrapped his arms around the tiny frame, holding him close. He closed his eyes, rocking the little boy gently in his grip. "Yeah, Alex?"
Alex looked up at him, holding the toy truck out to him. "Daddy, I wanna play with you. Why are you sad?" impossible, ice blue eyes met his father's own, child-like hope dancing in their depths.
Castiel nodded, setting the truck down on the table. "Ok, Alex. We can play…" he whispered, carrying the boy with him. He took the child into the living room, sitting down on the floor. Alex immediately ran over to the abandoned toy chest, pulling out different objects and bringing them over to Castiel. Stuffed animals of all kinds littered their play area, the boy sitting in Castiel's lap. He looked up at him with a frown on his pale face, eyes narrowed. "No be sad! Play!" he demanded, thrusting a doll into his face.
Castiel complied, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden domineering behavior of his once complacent little child. Nevertheless he submitted, looking up only when Jimmy entered the room, bandage wrapped firmly around his abused fist. "The others are in the kitchen…"
Jimmy nodded, eyes narrowed at the child in his twin's lap. Complete and utter contempt for the boy ravaged his being and he turned away harshly, unable to look at Alex any longer. He wasn't sure himself why he felt such hatred for the child but something felt horribly wrong with him. He didn't trust the situation or the boy any more than the demon that had caused it all.
Without a word, he joined the others in the kitchen; taking a beer from the refrigerator and downing it almost in one go. Silence once again pervaded the room, the others staring at each other with apprehension. They listened to the playful babbles of a once deceased child in the next room, playing with a doomed man for the last year of his existence.
After a time, Sam shifted, moving to the door. "I'm going to look into this…" he said in obvious discomfort. He shot his older brother an apologetic look, reaching for the door handle. "I'll come back in a bit to check up on him later ok?"
"I'll come with you… I can't…" Jimmy paused, pulling Sam over to the door with him. "I can't be here with that… thing. Something's not right…"
Sam gave him a disgusted look. "That's your nephew in there!" he scolded, looking scandalized by the notion.
"Tell me you don't feel something wrong with this!" Jimmy snapped, gripping his forearm tightly. At the resigned look he received, he released his grip. "That's what I thought." He murmured, turning to the door once again. "C'mon… the sooner we do this, the sooner we get to saving my brother…"
As they left, Bobby put a gentle hand on his companion's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "We'll figure this out, Dean." He tried kindly, hoping to quell the disturbed man next to him. "We'll figure this out, and Cas'll be just fine." He knew false hope would only end badly, but if it were the only reassurance he could offer, he'd be hard pressed not to help in any way he could.
Dean only nodded, watching as Bobby joined his husband in the living room with Alex. He turned to the table, eyes locking on the toy truck he'd been brought before. It seemed to mock him in its unmoving state. A cold sweat broke out over his brow as he stared at the plastic toy before him, heart skipping and thrumming with pent up anxiety. With a shaking hand, he reached out and grabbed it, observing it for a moment. It looked oddly familiar, the poorly executed paint job on this cheap plaything ringing all too true in his subconscious.
Gripping the toy in his fist Dean turned away from the jovial squeals of his reincarnated son, walking stiffly to the trash can. He kicked the lid open, the clang of the metal lid startling him. His eyes never left the truck in his hand.
After a moment, he shook himself back to reality, glancing over his shoulder. It was all too much… just too much. Without a second thought, he threw the toy truck into the trash can, letting the lid slam shut on the offending reminder.
TBC...