Dean tried to hide his surprise that Rapid City would have so many tattoo parlors to choose from. South Dakota had never struck him as a place that needed so many ink shops. He always sort of related the state with Bobby - which was to say he though it mostly consisted of back woods and crotchety old militia-type men. Come to think of it, Dean had never had much reason to go on hunts in either of the Dakotas. Bobby tended to keep the area clean on his own. It was disconcerting to realize that there were actually parts of the States that he didn't know like the back of his hand, or that he'd simply overlooked all together.
Gabriel had been the one to pick the location, because honestly Dean didn't care. Subsequently they ended up in the parking lot of a "Fallen Angel Tattoo", which the little blond assured Dean was not only a sign, but also ironic and absolutely hilarious.
But truth be told, Dean was having a difficult time finding any amusement in their current situation.
It had been a long drawn out argument (masquerading as a conversation) all the way from Columbus to Rapid City, the two Angels arguing over what would be the best way to keep Dean safe from any potential non-demonic possessions. Cas had ended the argument by scribbling a complicated looking design, which sort of reminded Dean of a sun, onto the back of a napkin found in the glove box.
Then had come the arguing from Dean- but half an hour later they were at the tattoo parlor, its neon sign reflecting red and blue on the rain spattered windshield of Sam's car.
Sam kept insisting that he should just man up and do it. "Stop being a baby, Dean. If it keeps you safe I don't see the harm in it."
And maybe Dean wouldn't mind it so much in the scheme of things. He certainly had far worse marks on his body to show from his exciting life of violence and variation.
"It's my skin." He insisted, running his hands along the strap of his seatbelt, looking in the rearview mirror at how Cas was slumped into the backseat beside Gabriel. The younger Angel had been sleeping for the past forty miles of their drive and the subsequent fifteen minutes that they had been sitting in the parking lot arguing as the rain pattered down.
"And it's your brain that someone's trying to bash in so they can get possession of that fine Winchester ass of yours." Gabe chimed in from the backseat. He leaned forward, clinging to the back of Sam's headrest, fingertips toying with his boyfriend's shirt collar. "Michael will gut you given half a chance. He will carve out your soul and make a comfy new home for himself."
"I get the idea." Dean grumbled.
"No, I don't think you do. He wants you to be his sword," and the word sounded almost dirty when Gabriel said it. "A righteous man to be his weapon in slaying the Devil. Human bodies aren't meant to house the presence of Angels. It doesn't matter if he thinks you're his chosen vessel or if you actually are. He's an Archangel and being in his presence will tear your fragile human soul into a thousand little pieces and all the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put you back together again."
"Gabe?" Sam reached up and touched his boyfriend's hand. "I've been wondering… the journal- it says that Angels don't have physical forms that humans can see."
"It's true." Gabriel grinned to himself. "If you tried to look at one of us in our true form, outside of a human vessel, our grace would burn your eyes right out your pretty face."
"Then why can we see you?" Dean asked suddenly, seeing the question in his brother's eyes, knowing that that was where Sam was getting to in his own careful way.
Gabriel retracted his hand and made a face. "It's a funny story."
"Did you take a human's body when you fell from heaven?" Sam half turned in the driver's seat, looking back with a strange expression. "Did you steal someone's body?"
The Angel answered with an equally unreadable look on his face. He glanced at Castiel sleeping beside him and kind of shrugged. "Like I said- funny story. Maybe I'll tell you about it one day."
It was not an answer that looked to have placated Sam in the slightest but the younger Winchester simply frowned, looking back out the windshield and said nothing.
"Aw, don't be like that, Sam." The Angel suddenly tensed and looked like he was struggling with himself before smiling brightly. "Dean will go and get himself a lovely little sigil and while he's occupied with bleeding and being all kinds of manly I can tell you how I ended up with this gloriously pointed little face of mine, and then we can make out and get the windows all steamy."
"I didn't agree to get the tattoo." Dean spoke up.
"You've already agreed to let someone take you out for a ride once." Gabriel started in a frightfully reasonable voice, as if he already knew he had won. "Michael or otherwise- they already have permission and they will come back for you. My brothers are nothing if not persistent." He smiled slowly. "Unless you were enjoying having someone banging away at your walls, looking for cracks?"
Dean opened his mouth to say something but Gabriel cut him off with a dismissive wave of a hand.
"Because even if there aren't any yet, there will be. You will cave, Deano- everyone does in time. And that's something that Angels have a lot of. We can wait for the waves to whether stone to nothing more than sand, we can wait for continents to drift apart and together again, and we can wait for stars to burn out. We've got an eternity to lay siege- and what do you have? Fifty more years at least, though considering your life choices and how you eat, I would say more like twenty- if that. My brother will keep bashing away at your walls and even you, the great Dean Winchester will crumble. Either through time or an offer you can't refuse- you will give in. Everyone does."
"You're right." Dean threw his hands up. "Sure. It's just a fucking seal permanently printed on my skin. I don't know why I'm being so damn difficult about it." He dug into a pocket and found his pill bottle, shaking out more of the little yellow tablets and swallowing them down. "If you'll stop fucking bothering me about it- fine." He unbuckled his seat belt, muttering quietly under his breath, "you feathery, racist, little goblin."
He reached back and swatted at Cas' knee, watching the Angel stir slightly, his dark lashes parting as he opened his eyes. "We've stopped?" His voice was sleep thick and slow.
"Yeah and apparently I'm getting a tattoo to keep your brother from trying to jump my bones." He opened his door to the cool rain. "Come on. I need to get something to eat first."
.:.
"You sure this is gunna' work?" Dean asked quietly. He had not meant to whisper, but he was doped up on what felt like enough pain killers to sedate a full grown mountain gorilla and it was something of a miracle that he was even awake- much less capable of forming logical and reasonable questions, so he tried not to worry too much if he was whispering like a five year old telling secrets on the playground- when in fact they were walking down a sidewalk narrowly avoiding puddles, slowly making their way back to the car and the tattoo parlor.
Cas looked up from the cherry slushy that Dean had bought him at the Circle K down the block, his lips stained a flamboyant red and Dean was reminded of when he had been a kid and any candy that changed the color of your mouth had been highly desirable. And where as red was fun and all, the holy grail of candy stains had always been blue… he found himself wishing that he had bought a slushy for himself and the two of them could drink until they got brain freezes then stick their tongues out at each other and compare the abnormal colors. Sam was too 'grown up' to do that sort of thing, but Dean had a feeling that Cas would go along with it.
"It is a sigil much like the ones I have been drawing on you. Though much stronger and not for hiding you so much as sealing you off. It is something considerably less than holy and I will most likely find myself in a great deal of trouble for even knowing it, much less writing it down and giving it to you... under the current circumstances." Cas paused to lick at the sweetness lingering at the corners of his mouth, showing the bright red tip of his tongue. "But as I was never specifically told not to give it to you I am not technically defying my brother."
Dean didn't really care for what was being said to him. Cas was making it sound an awful lot like he was doing something bad for helping Dean remain un-possessed by Michael. And considering the fact that Dean had his suspicions that Cas might have been kicked down to Earth for the express purpose of helping Michael to get a hold of the eldest Winchester, it didn't bode well in saying whose side Cas was currently on.
Maybe Sam had something. He had tried, in his passive aggressive way, to say that the Angel might not be hanging around to help them. And Dean, who was only stupid on his days off, couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't some truth in that. He knew Cas wasn't here to be his pal, that the Angel was following some orders passed down from some asshole up in Heaven, and whatever those unspeakable orders might be were not exactly for the benefit of mankind, or at least not for proposed vessels- because no matter how you cut it, being a new suit for an Archangel or the Devil himself was not a good deal.
But Dean had started to fool himself, just little lies under his breath, that Cas had changed his mind. That he had decided to side with the humans and not the bastards who made him cough blood anytime he tried to share the secret code or whatever.
And it really was stupid when he thought about it. Why would Cas want to help them? If helping meant possibly being stuck down here with the humans and never getting his angelic mojo back- it was in Cas' best interest to play by Michael's rules, to do whatever he had been told to do, it would be worth it if it meant that he could go home. Heaven had to be better than down here. Dean had to believe that- and if he had to do that much, he had to admit that it was only fair that Cas would do his part to get back.
It wasn't something that Dean could blame him for.
It's not like Dean wanted to be here either.
He took a swig of the Pepsi he had bought down at the Circle K and sighed. He should just be grateful of the subterfuge, and take what little help he could get in the matter- and hope that Cas wouldn't get in too much trouble for it.
"So… it'll just seal me off, hu? Is it gunna' hurt?" Not that impending pain was much of a worry at this point so much as it was a promise- Dean just wanted to know if he should be bracing himself.
"I do not believe so, though any Angel attempting to breach the seal should find themselves in considerable amounts of pain."
"Breach the seal? You don't use a word like breach unless you're talking about ship hulls or the security system of Fort Knox."
"I do not understand that reference, but if you wish me to rephrase I can." He scrunched up his brow and frowned at Dean, offering new words that were fairly unnecessary because the first phrasing had been clear enough. "No Angel should be able to penetrate the vessel wearing the seal."
The word penetrate was actually far worse than breach and Dean had to struggle not to laugh.
"Well, so much for my sex life." He couldn't hold back a chuckle, and he was sure that Cas heard him, because he did that head tilty thing and narrowed his eyes in a way that said he didn't quite understand.
"It should have no effect on your ability to copulate."
Dean laughed even though his chest was tight and most movements only served to remind him how much he hurt under the cloud of pain killers, it was still good to have a reason to laugh. "Cas, no offense here, but do you even know how to copulate?" The word felt foreign but he sort of enjoyed it and the awkward look Cas gave him in response.
"I have never had occasion." He sipped at his drink, eyes trained on the ground rolling out beneath his feet. "Though I have a rudimentary understanding of the basics involved in the act."
Dean laughed again and tried to stifle the noise into his Pepsi.
"I have no doubt that you will fill in the holes of my understanding when the time comes." Cas looked at him sideways, all depthless blue and unfathomably trusting. Apparently Cas had been making plans as well, the same sort of plans that kept Dean up at night. The sort of plans that Angels probably were not allowed to make.
Dean kind of choked on his drink and ended up with a mouthful of sticky brown cola down the front of his shirt, which sort of sucked. And not because he really liked this particular one, but he didn't exactly have any other clean shirts and he wasn't sure when they would be swinging by a laundry mat.
"That is that something you want, right?" Cas looked up at him curiously, the innocence in his face completely misplaced.
Dean remembered to breathe and he quickly looked around to see if there was anyone within hearing range of their conversation- but even after the light rain had let up it seemed that most humans had the better sense to stay indoors and out of the chill.
Cas arched a brow and tilted his head, waiting for the answer.
"I haven't …" Dean shook his head and started over again, still in his rough whisper. "Look, you ask a guy if he wants to have sex and he's going to say yes. Generally speaking, it's in the manual."
The Angel's eyes sparkled. "Including you?" He pressed.
"I'm a guy," Dean said. "So yes." Then he frowned, thinking about it. "But we shouldn't-"
"Oh." Castiel's eyes dimmed a little and he looked deep into the unnatural red within his plastic cup.
"Don't do that, Cas. You didn't let me finish." He rubbed at his mouth with the back of a hand and was surprised to feel a smile. "This is just really not a good time to have this talk." He wasn't sure if there was ever a good time for this sort of talk- but if there was it was definitely not on the eve of his third angelic exorcism. He felt like he was falling apart and he doubted if he had the mental agility to keep up even a conversation of this nature.
"But you still want to touch me." It didn't come off as a question so much as it sounded like some kind of self reassurance.
"All the time." Dean assured with a subdued laugh. Dimly he knew it had to mostly be blamed on the pain killers, but he was grinning and blushing. An unwilling blush that made his ears burn, and he was really glad that there wasn't anyone around to see it.
"Well, that's a relief. I was not looking forward to finding someone else. This body has needs that I do not seem to be able to satisfy on my own and no one other than you has shown an interest in helping me with them."
Then Dean was really laughing because Cas' self-evaluation moments never ceased to amuse him. "And if I said no, you would go out and find someone else- just like that?"
"There are other Winchesters," Cas had a glimmer in his eyes. "I have options."
And Cas was joking, Dean was just about positive that he was, and somehow that was even funnier. Up until that moment Dean was unaware that the Angel had a sense of humor at all. But one look at the man beside him and he was certain that it had been some attempt at a joke. Cas wore this strangely expectant expression, like he was waiting for Dean to make sense of the punch line.
"You teasing me, Cas?" Dean laughed again and he watched the man beside him relax into one of his restrained smiles.
"Sam and Gabriel have both told me that if I wish to fit in better I should try and make an attempt at humor." He toyed with his straw. "Did I do it right?"
Dean couldn't find a way to force words through his laughter so his just nodded.
.:.
It was not his first time in a tattoo parlor, all antiseptic in smell and attempting to come off as cool and hip but in some way still very reminiscent of a dentist office and he wasn't exactly thrilled to be where he was. Sitting hunched forward on a backwards facing chair, getting thick dark lines imbedded in the flesh over the curve of his left shoulder blade.
He had originally wanted to put it beside the anti-demon design on his chest but the Angels quietly agreed that the two separate marks should not be side by side, that there could be a risk of interference. So there Dean sat, hugging the headrest to his bare chest and watching Sam sitting awkwardly between the two Angels on the far side of the room while a scarecrow of a man named Francesco burrowed a needle dipped in red ink into his shoulder.
Dean had gone into this knowing that it was going to hurt like hell, a needle digging in right along bone like that didn't really offer any other outcome. Francesco had even assured Dean that it would hurt like hell- but it was still mildly surprising. It wasn't a debilitating pain or anything, but it was unique unto itself.
He made small talk with the tattooist and god, but he hated small talk.
Was the tattoo anything special? Oh, not really, just something he had been meaning to get since college. Saw it in a text book about tribal cultures.
You boys from around here? No, he and his brother and their friends were on a road trip, coming cross country to visit their uncle out East. Yeah, it was weird timing to get a tattoo, but he had the money so why the hell not.
Dean lied as easily as taking a breath- only maybe a little easier than that since his chest still felt tight since the incident back in Columbus.
He couldn't really hear what the others were talking about, their words got sort of muddled in wail of a guitar riff from the iPod docked on the nearby counter. Gabriel was laughing and Sam was wearing that dopey smile of his that Dean had not seen since his little brother had been dating Jess back at Stanford. And maybe it didn't matter that Dean thought Gabriel was an asshat, as long as he made Sam smile like that…well, there were certain personality flaws that Dean could overlook in his brotherly mercy and wisdom.
"Everything ok over there, Sammy?" Dean hated being left out.
"We're fine." Sam grinned. "You hanging in there?"
Dean nodded that he was fine and he looked down at his hands where he was white knuckling it, and tried to relax. He still firmly told himself that it didn't hurt that bad, but it was a droning pain to match the electronic buzz of the gun and it had been going on for almost half an hour. It was wearing on him, ebbing away at the pain killers and just becoming something of a numb ache that hugged the length of his spine.
Cas pulled himself up from the line of low chairs and came over to stand before Dean, peering curiously over his shoulder.
"Hey, Cas." Dean smiled, just oddly happy to be close. And yeah… maybe that was a bit weird, but that weirdness didn't lessen the warmth he felt inside.
"You're bleeding." Cas noted almost sagely.
And Francesco answered before Dean could. "They always bleed a bit. It's nothing to worry about."
"Blood will make the sigil stronger." The Angel replied with an air of confidence.
Dean attempted not to laugh, because it didn't matter how much Cas looked like a normal person- whenever he spoke he sort of advertised the fact that he was very much not anything at all like normal.
Cas took a step closer, looming over Dean's seated position as he watched the tattoo forming in short, dully painful lines. He was close enough that if Dean leaned forward anymore he could probably bite the Angel's stomach and that was a though that made the ache in his shoulder considerably less important to him.
There wasn't much he could do in his current position that didn't scream GAY, and out here things like that weren't exactly widely accepted. So Dean did nothing other than close his eyes and enjoy the smell of his friend- all fresh rain and nature and artificial cherry flavoring. Dean regretted not getting a kiss in at some point since the convenience store, knowing that the lingering sweet taste would have faded from Cas' lips by the time they get out of here. Oh well.
After a few more long moments of Dean's steady breathing and the drone of the needle buzzing away like a furious bee, he heard Cas make a strange noise. Just a soft sort of clicking in the back of his throat, quiet enough that it was unlikely that anyone else would have heard it.
He opened his eyes, blinking into the florescent shop lights to look up at the Angel only inches from his face.
Cas was watching Francesco working, he was watching Dean bleeding and he was sort of swaying on the spot, rhythm-less and a little erratic in his slow drifting movements.
Dean stayed quiet for a second, not sure if Cas was about to fall over or it this was a weird version of dancing to the music that was playing loudly nearby. "Hey, you alright?"
The Angel listed to the right, head cocked as if he was listening carefully to something only he could hear. Faintly he shook his head, but Dean had no way of knowing if this was meant as an answer or something else all together.
"Cas?" Dean must have sounded more worried than he intended because Francesco stopped the monotonous buzzing of his gun and sat back, giving Dean the leeway to move if he needed.
And Gabriel was suddenly there, not much taller than sitting Dean, taking hold of his younger brother's arm and pulling him gently towards the doors.
"What's wrong with him?" Dean was halfway off his chair, fighting down something that felt an awful lot like fear.
"It's just low blood sugar." Gabriel said over his shoulder. "I've got some skittles out in the car. Don't worry." And it didn't matter that the Angel was smiling, Dean had a sinking suspicion that he was being lied to.
"You wanna take a break?" Francesco asked in a kind way behind him, gently worried about the strangers in his shop.
"Yeah, I-"
"Dean, stay." Gabriel kept his smile in place but there was a strongly commanding presence in his words that Dean wasn't sure if he could to argue with. Sure he wanted to argue, he wanted to tell the blonde to shut his big mouth and that he wasn't just going to sit around on his ass while his friend had some sort of episode… but there was something in Gabriel's expression, in his eyes- something which required to be left unchallenged. He wasn't telling Dean to stay out of something; he was demanding that he finish something.
He wanted Dean to finish up the sigil.
Gabriel was trying to keep him safe, which was laughable, because self preservation had never once been a priority of Dean's.
Sam got up. "I'll go with them." He offered, and his face showed the worry that Dean was trying to keep to himself.
Dean nodded slowly, not that he liked this as a solution and he really didn't see how leaving him alone was going to do any good for anyone, but he sat back down and watched through the windows as Cas was lead out to the parking lot.
He'll be fine. Dean tried to reassure himself. For all he knew Cas really did just need to eat- but that didn't make sense mainly because Dean knew that they had both just eaten. Perhaps Cas was getting a call from home? Dean wasn't sure how heaven was communicating with its Angels downstairs. Dean wasn't sure about a lot of things.
"Just go ahead I guess." He tried to sound confident like always, but he wasn't sure how good of a job he was doing.
"It's almost done." Francesco offered like a comfort. And he was a good man for not asking too many questions. Dean wished he met more men like the tattooist; men who didn't want to get involved. Being nosy never helped anyone.
And before the tattoo gun could buzz back to life Dean's phone went off in his pocket. So few people had his number and those who did knew not to call unless it was an emergency.
Cas, Dean thought with a sudden desperation. What if Sam was calling him from just outside because there was something very wrong with Cas.
"Sorry, dude. I've got to take this." He apologized, fishing the phone from his pocket.
He saw Francesco shrug it off and get up, "No worries, man. I could use a little break- check my emails." And he stretched his long arms and grabbed up an energy drink from the counter before walking to the other side of the shop to poke at a computer behind a desk, giving Dean some space.
That was all sort of background to Dean, his eyes were fixed on the little screen of his phone and he was frowning.
It wasn't his brother calling.
Andy's name was displayed in tiny green letters, flashing impatiently at him. Dean very clearly remembered last time they spoke and if he noticed his hands shaking just a little he chocked it up to his arms being tired and nothing more.
He was half tempted to not answer. The last two phone calls with her had ended in what would best be described as exciting amounts of pain. But she was a kid and he couldn't just leave her hanging, not if she needed his help.
"Yeah?" He kept his voice nice and level, even and unworried.
"I don't have a lot of time, Sam'll be back soon-"
"Excuse me?" And Dean was off his seat, looking out the window, trying to see if she was standing somewhere out in the grey rain- because there was no other explanation he could think of for how she could possibly know where Sam was.
"Just shut up and listen to me. Don't finish that tattoo. Tell the guy no thanks or whatever the fuck you need to, but get out of there."
"Where are you, Andy? What's going on?"
"If he finishes it you'll be off limits. Nobody in and nobody out until the seal is broken- do you understand what I'm saying?"
"What's going on?"
"The sacrifices required to break that seal aren't ones you're prepared to make, Dean."
"I don't want to break it-"
"I'm not here to argue. You have to listen to me. You need to get out of here before Michael finishes with your boyfriend- we're running out of options and time."
And even if she was outside, or in a nearby store, watching through the windows, there was no explanation that Dean could come up with to make this ok. He didn't know what was going on, and he was really getting tired of it. The only thing he was sure of was that this was wrong. Wrong like seeing his own hand writing in a journal he had never written in.
"Where are you?" Dean found he was sort of snarling, baring his teeth and his hands were aching for a weapon of some kind. He couldn't tell if he was furious or terrified, but it was a deep, black feeling welling up in him, churning and horrible.
"If you're serious about killing Michael you have to stop this. Don't let that guy finish the sigil."
Dean's thoughts were reeling. If he didn't finish the sigil it meant he was wide open to possession by the Archangel. Andy was telling him to leave himself open. She wanted him to stay vulnerable.
He didn't know how she knew about the tattoo, but he realized that he didn't need to.
If it were possible for him to be possessed by an Angel, wasn't it possible that someone like Andy could be taken as well? As far as he could tell a host was a necessity for those feathery bastards to walk and talk down here.
And it didn't matter what anyone said, Dean wasn't a righteous man. He was a decent guy, no mistake about that- but righteous?
It was an insane accusation.
Maybe he had the best of intentions; maybe he saved a few people and sent some demons back to hell. But in the face of all that, he was a liar. He cheated, he stole, he killed, he fornicated, he drank- and from what little he understood about the Bible, he sort of embodied everything that mankind had been warned against. And if somehow in someone's fucked up score book he was still counted as a 'righteous' man, a man clean enough to be a vessel for an Angel- who was to say that a little girl, who had probably never done anything worse than maybe getting a bad grade on a test, wasn't worthy as well?
Dean was suddenly very sure that he wasn't talking to Andy. It didn't matter that she used the girl's quiet, clipped way of speaking- the kid he had met didn't know what was going on any more than he did. She was a bit rough around the edges, but she was uncertain and afraid- and none of that came through in the words Dean was hearing.
"Who is this?" He said carefully, making sure she heard each word clearly.
She made a frustrated noise wrapped in a sigh, like she had somehow followed his silent train of thought and knew exactly what he meant but didn't care in the slightest. "We don't have time for this, Winchester! I've got a sword for you. It can kill an Angel, but it won't be pretty. You need to take it. We're running out of time."
"I don't want your damned sword."
"I'm trying to help you, you jackass."
And Dean had the strangest feeling that she was pacing. He couldn't see her or hear her. But it was like he could feel her movements, feel each agitated step like they were his own.
"I've been trying to help you this whole time, Dean. Don't go all paranoid on me now. Get out of this shop- get away from the Angels- somewhere far away, somewhere safe- but not Bobby's. Go to the woods or the lake- or the fucking middle of the freeway for all I care. Just get away from the others." Then she made a vile suggestion, "you're not safe with them- you can't trust them. I'll give you the sword. You can kill Michael and end this before it goes to hell."
"Look, I don't know who I'm talking to, and I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely. I don't want or need your help. And if you don't get the hell out of Andy, when this is all over I will hunt you down and tear you apart, feather by feather. Do you understand?"
"You insufferable son of a bitch. Can't you get it through your thick head that I'm trying to help you?"
He hung up, clapping the phone shut and practically storming back over to the chair he had so recently vacated. "Hey, can we finish this up?"
Francesco shrugged and came back over, pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves and sitting down behind Dean.
And Dean knew that the man had probably been listening to the half of a conversation he had dramatically been putting on. He also knew that the guy probably didn't appreciate the impatient tone of voice that Dean was using. But Dean was mad, and a little freaked out by the talk he had with the non-Andy. He wanted to get the sigil finished as soon as possible.
There was no real way to tell for sure, nothing to base the notion off of, but Dean had a feeling that there was a clock running somewhere and they had just about reached the eleventh hour. It was an uncomfortable sensation that some dark ending was looming just over the horizon and Dean was woefully unprepared for it.
The buzzing of the gun returned as did the prickling pain along his shoulder blade and he flexed his hands, digging his fingers into the headrest like he wanted to squeeze from it some sense or reason he could apply to today.
Sam came back in along with a wash of cold air from the world outside. He took one look at Dean and obviously didn't care for the expression his big brother was wearing. "Everything ok?"
"Elias' daughter is… having some trouble with one of Michael's friends." Dean chose his words and saw that his brother understood, at least in part. "I'm gunna' take care of it, I just wanted to get this done first."
Sam walked around his brother, leaving wet boot prints on the linoleum floor. "Looks like it's almost finished."
"Just give me five minutes and it'll be perfect." Francesco said under his breath, focused on what he was doing. And Dean wasn't really looking for perfect, so much as functional, but he could appreciate the man's work ethic.
"How's Cas?" Dean looked out the window at the parking lot, just able to make out their car and the two shadowy forms sitting inside.
"He's alright." Came Sam's reply from somewhere behind Dean, and he didn't have to see his little brother's face to know what a lie that was. "He, uh, got a phone call from home and he's a bit… upset now, but Gabe says he'll be fine."
Try as he might, Dean couldn't imagine Cas being upset and he was fairly sure that what Sam meant was a darker word that entailed bleeding of sorts. And Dean didn't know how, but he was very sure that he was going to kill Michael.
The problem was that the hunter had no idea how to kill an Angel. Andy had mentioned a sword, but that might have very much not been Andy making the suggestion so he couldn't put much weight in the solution. He also had the journal from her father but didn't know how much help that was going to be in the short term.
However, Dean happened to be acquainted with two people who might be very knowledgeable of ways to go about killing Angels. Who better to know how to slay an Angel, than an Angel?
"It's done." No one needed to make the announcement, but Francesco still did.
Before the words left the tattooist, Dean knew that the sigil was finished. He felt it searing hot, blistering against skin and bone, down into his soul or whatever it was that lived in the center of his being and helped him to move about and think and make bad decisions… maybe it was his brain not his soul. He could deal with notion- he had never had much of a belief in souls anyways.
It felt like he couldn't get enough air. His chest started to burn and the world was going black around its edges, chipping away, the pieces scattering leaving him with darkness and that horrible burning. And Cas had been a filthy liar for saying that it wouldn't hurt.
Sam's hands were cool on his arms, anchoring him, drawing him back. "Dean, you ok?"
The fire was already retreating from the surface of his skin where the ink and the blood lay, burrowing deep inside, scorching and malevolent, settling through the length of his body and he was almost sure he smelled sulfur.
"Yeah." He blinked hard, like trying to force the heat further down, to internalize it. "Just got a little light headed for a second." Lying seemed a better choice than saying that it felt like he had some holy voodoo burning all past sins from his body.
Sam let go of his arm and took a step back though the look of brotherly worry never left his face.
"You know how to take care of a tattoo?" Francesco asked, all business like, and as Dean stood on weak legs he saw the look the man was giving the two Winchesters. He was watching them in the same way that you watch a drunk who you are waiting to become violent.
Dean couldn't really blame him. "Yeah. I got it."
The man ran over the rules anyways while he taped a bit of plastic wrap over the fresh tattoo. Keep it clean, keep it out of the sun, antiseptic good, scratching bad, and so on and so forth.
They had paid up front, so once Dean got his shirt on they were good to go.
Sam apologized to Francesco for the weirdness, Dean thanked him for the good work and then the brothers were out in the rain, the bleak drizzle feeling like ice as it drummed down around them.
"You sure you're alright, Dean?"
Dean rubbed at his nose, sneezing, trying to get the acrid stink out. "Do you smell sulfur?"
Sam was getting his keys out but he stopped, stopped walking all together and really looked at Dean. "No… do you?"
"Christo." Dean said cautiously, not sure what he was expecting.
And Sam just blinked wet hair from his eyes. "Are you serious? You think I'm possessed?"
"I don't know, man. I'm- you sure you can't smell it?"
As if intending to win the most uncomfortably awkward brother of the year award, Sam leaned down, real close to Dean's face, hardly a breath apart- and he sniffed.
"Dude!" Dean pushed him away, hard. "What's wrong with you?"
Sam chuckled. "I don't smell anything, Dean." He unlocked the car. "You look like hell, but you don't smell like it. Now come on, you can sleep in the car."
"Who says you get to keep driving?" Dean moved around to the driver's side, following his brother half heartedly. He was doing his best to keep up appearances, but honestly sleep sounded really good.
They could both laugh and joke, but truth was they were both tired (and more than a little worried about all the bad suddenly coming their way) and it manifested in Sam with a glaring lack of humanity. He kicked out at Dean's injured knee, not hard- but it didn't have to be.
"Son of a bitch." Dean swore and leaned against the wet car for support.
"I noticed you limping. What, did you dislocate it or something?"
"Yes, but I put it back." He said through his teeth, glaring up at Sam who wore a strangely compassionate expression.
"You can hardly walk, Dean. You're not driving."
"I was walking just fine, you little bitch."
"Jerk." Sam said automatically. "Now get in the shotgun seat and give me directions to get from here to South Bend."
Dean limped around the front of the car. "South Bend…in Indiana?" He was mentally running maps in his mind, thinking of the closest city with that name. "What the fuck's in Indiana?"
"Gabe needs to go to the Notre Dame University library."
"I'm sure there's a library here. Hey, Bobby's got a ton of books and he's a hell of a lot closer than South Bend. I'm sure we can find what he's looking for between here and fucking Indiana."
Sam just smiled and got in. "We can stay the night at Bobby's. I'm sure he'll let us. But in the morning I think we should head out."
Dean settled into his seat, glancing over his shoulder to see Castiel sleepily eating a bag of Skittles. There was a smear of browning blood between his nose and lip and a little on the left side of his mouth. Dean couldn't help but think that the blood must make the candy taste awful, but it didn't seem to bother the Angel.
Gabriel was not sitting beside his little brother.
Gabriel was not in the car.
Dean frowned. "Where'd your brother go?"
Cas looked up from his crinkly back of candy and his left pupil was blown wide, making his whole eye look black. He blinked and then slowly looked back at his candy, raising another piece to his mouth with a hand that trembled ever so slightly.
"What happened?" Sam half turned in his seat, immediately looking very worried.
"The war… is going badly." Cas said in a slow, almost drugged voice, no emotion behind it. "The war is always going badly." And Dean knew shock when he saw it, and it was almost comforting to see that it looked the same in Angels as it did in humans.
"What happened, where's Gabe?" Sam was almost crawling between the seats to get back there though Dean wasn't sure what good that would do anyone.
Cas slowly looked up again and held out his bag of candy to Dean, a silent offering. "Gabriel decided to go home."
Dean didn't take any of the Skittles. "What do you mean 'home'?"
"Michael spoke to me. He-" Cas paused, examining the blood stains on his fingernails like he was seeing them for the first time. "I used to be much stronger. Not stronger than Gabriel but- but I was never this weak. And now… now I'm useless." He started to sound a little more drunk than drugged, slurring just slightly, but at least there was emotion behind it, annoyed and a little self mocking.
Sam glanced at Dean, silently asking if this was making any kind of sense. Dean shrugged and his shoulder sang with pain at the movement.
Sam frowned deeper and looked back at Cas. "Is Gabriel ok?"
Cas upturned his bag, shaking out the last few pieces of candy. "He told me that these taste like a rainbow." He looked up at the brothers in the front seat and through the expression of shellshock that he wore so beautifully there was something close to panic behind his eyes. "He left because of me- because I insisted that he pick a side. And now he's gone and I don't know when I will get the chance to tell him that these taste nothing like a rainbow. They're absolutely awful."
"Cas," Sam voice took on a note of warning, his patience wearing thin in the face of the fact that his boyfriend was very suddenly very gone. "Is Gabriel ok?"
The lone Angel made a complicated sound, strangled cough like regret and loneliness. "I don't know." He never looked up from his dirty hands where he held them open over his knees, staring down into the brightly colored bits of sugar as if they might give him answers.
Sam made a frustrated sound and wore his best bitch-face but Cas just quietly ate the rest of his candy.
"Just drive, Sammy. I don't think we should stay here." Dean opened his door, got out and slid into the backseat. It wasn't that he was big on comfort or cuddles or anything like that, but he really didn't feel that he had any right to be sitting up in the front seat while his friend sat alone in the back and fell apart. Cas didn't look at him but when Dean took his hand the Angel twined their fingers together with surprising strength.
"Dean, I can't just leave. What if Gabe comes back?"
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, rallying whatever force of will left to him, because Sam said if, not when and that spoke volumes more than his younger brother had intended.
"He went home, Samuel. Not for a walk." Cas spoke hollowly. "When he returns, he will return to you, regardless of where you are. You two share a connection." And he squeezed Dean's hand and Dean was at a loss as to how he should interpret that.
Sam slowly turned in his seat, giving them his back and gripping the steering wheel until his knuckled turned white. Dean said nothing because he knew his brother well enough to see that Sam needed a moment to pull himself together. The car drowned in the sound of the rain falling over them, just a soft white noise mingling with their breaths and the silence. Finally Sam looked into the rearview mirror and stared Dean down. "Ok. We'll go to Bobby's. We can make a plan in the morning."
And it took Dean up until that moment to realize that Sam was in love with Gabriel and he wondered why it had taken him so damned long to notice. Cas leaned closer, brushing their arms together and a tangled feeling crawled through Dean as he remembered that lately he had been more than a little occupied. And yeah, maybe he should pay a bit more attention to Sam, but after a lifetime of being on top of every move his brother made, no one could really begrudge him a momentary lapse.
The car rumbled awake and they left behind the Fallen Angel, and all her inks and needles, in favor of the endless tar strip of highway- leaving behind the Black Hills and winding out through into the heart of the Badlands.
Dean didn't like any of this. He could still smell sulfur even if no one else was taking note of it. His knee was throbbing, no thanks to Sam. Something was very wrong with Andy, but there wasn't anything he could do about it right now. His insides felt like he had just drunk a half a bottle of whisky, all burning and a little sick. And most importantly, Gabriel was gone and both Sam and Cas were considerably worse for it.
In retrospect, Dean wished that he had asked what exactly Gabriel had wanted from a library out in Indiana- more out of curiosity than anything else.
The thing was, they never made it to South Bend, at least not for many years- so it was quite some time before that little curiosity was satisfied.
They never even made it past Bobby's house.
So many plans were waylaid in the late hours of that night.
So many good things turned bad before the sun ever had a chance to rise.
Faiths and loyalties gone astray.
Promises made only to be broken in the next breath.
Things like libraries just seemed to lose their sense of importance after that night.
A/N: mind you, I'm not one to beg, but as this story gets closer to its eventual end- I would like to point out that reviews sort of give me the strength to go on.
Just... just putting that one out there.
But even if you cannot find it in you to say anything in reply to this freakishly long story, know that I appreciate you coming along for the ride.
You guys are good for putting up with me.