Thursday's Child

by wyntereyez

Or: 'Another Heartwarming Story in Which Dean and Castiel Reproduce.' Castiel brings a surprise home to Dean. It's gooey. And has tentacles. Kid!fic

11. The Man Who Knew Too Much

[Fic] Thursday's Child (11/12)

Author: wyntereyez

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: T

Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jody Mills, Hester, Inias, Dean/Castiel

Beta: None, though that would've been a damn good idea, don't you think?

Spoilers: AU after 'The Man Who Would Be King,' contains spoilers for 'Let It Bleed' and 'The Man Who Knew Too Much.'

Disclaimer: I don't own them, obviously.

Warnings: References to past mpreg (I can't believe I'm doing this…), discussion of the smiting of a Nephil baby

Summary: Castiel brings a surprise home to Dean. It's gooey. And has tentacles.

Chapter Summary: In which a rescue is mounted.

A/N: And I apologize that I'm getting chapters out so slowly, but I've been so depressed that it's difficult to motivate myself to write. Or do anything at all, for that matter. And I'm not satisfied with it, but if I kept tinkering with it, it would never get posted.

Eleven - The Man Who Knew Too Much

Dean doesn't know how long he stands staring at the spot where Cas and Dani had been before he starts shouting for Hester and Inias. He screams himself hoarse, but there's no flurry of wings, no sarcastic comments to announce their presence. He almost drops to his knees to beg for any angel who hears his prayer to come, but he's more likely to get one of Raphael's followers than anyone sympathetic to his plight.

Crowley had been wearing Balthazar - or, rather, his vessel, and since Dean doubts the other angel had ditched his meatsuit willingly, that meant Balthazar was a prisoner. Or dead. And if Crowley had been able to make it onto Bobby's property without their angelic watchdogs attacking, then he'd taken out Inias and Hester, as well.

They're on their own for this one.

As Dean trudges back towards the house, he pulls out his phone and calls Sam.

When his brother answers, Dean can't find his voice. Saying it aloud will make it all real.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asks, instantly alert.

"Crowley took Cas and Dani," Dean finally manages, his voice cracking in spite of his efforts to keep his emotions in check.

Muffled curses come over the line, then Dean hears Bobby ask for the phone.

"Tell me everything that happened," Bobby demands.

Dean takes a deep breath, then talks, keeping the story succinct, detached, knowing he has to keep his emotions in check. He's had his breakdown; now his anguish is being replaced by the steely resolve that's gotten him through previous trials.

"What happened with Dr. Visyak?" She's their last link to Purgatory. It all comes down to the souls, like Death had warned. The fates of Cas and Dani are tied to the opening of the doorway, and so far, they know nothing.

Dean feels a momentary flash of rage. Fuck Cas, for bringing this down on them all, for dragging his innocent daughter into this!

Just as abruptly, his anger deflates. Cas's heart had been in the right place, and over the last few days, he'd tried to help undo his mistakes.

"We found her, but… she didn't make it. She hung on just long enough to tell us about the ritual."

"Sorry, Bobby." He doesn't know the details about Bobby's relationship with the Purgatory monster, but he knows Bobby had cared for her. And as monsters went, she hadn't been all that bad.

"It gets worse. Ellie managed to warn us that Crowley's workin' with an angel, and from the description… Dean, it's Raphael."

"Fuck," Dean hisses. Of course it would be. He runs his fingers through his hair, running through and immediately discarding possible ways to defeat the King of Hell and the last archangel standing. If it had been that easy, Castiel would have done it already.

"Dean, I know you're hurting, but just listen for a moment, would ya? I know you want to go after them now, but we can't go rushing into this unprepared." Dean's about to argue when Bobby finishes, "Nothing's gonna happen before tomorrow night."

"What's tomorrow night?"

"The door to Purgatory can only be opened during a lunar eclipse, and since tomorrow is the only eclipse this year, it's their only shot at this. Cas and Dani will be safe until then." Bobby sounds so sure of this that Dean finds himself marginally relaxing.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because it sounds like Cas and Dani are payment for Raphael's services, so he'll need to keep them alive until then. And I doubt Crowley'd even consider handing them over before the ritual."

It sounds logical, but Dean can think of far too many other scenarios in which they're already too late. But before he can start listing everything that could go wrong, Bobby says, "Don't you go haring off after them until we know more. Sam and I are only a couple hours away. Just keep tryin' the Heavenly Hotline until someone shows up. We'll come up with a plan when we get back."

Dean wants to protest, but he can see the logic of this. He'd be one man against a possible combined army of demons and angels. Going into this half-cocked would only get him killed. "Yeah," Dean says tightly. "Hurry back, Bobby. I don't know how long I can keep myself from doing something stupid."

"Already breakin' the speed limit. We will get them back, Dean."

~oOo~

Traveling by demon is nothing like flying. There's a disorienting twist to reality, a push-pull sensation against his wounded Grace, and then Castiel finds himself falling to his hands and knees on the cracked floor of Crowley's laboratory. His Grace is in turmoil, and Castiel feels like he's going to be sick.

Castiel suddenly understands Dean's reluctance to let Castiel fly him anywhere.

Castiel would have remained in his undignified position until his Grace finally settled, but Danielle's whimpers bring him lurching to his feet. Before he can make a move on Crowley, two demons Castiel hadn't noticed take his arms and yank him back.

Crowley had pulled Danielle close to his chest during their teleportation, and now he's attempting to detach her from his shirt. She's secreted enough slime that she's stuck, and Crowley looks revolted as he finally manages to peel her off and transfer her to the crook of his elbow. He tries to flick a glob of it off his fingers, and scowls as it continues to cling to his skin. "Seriously, Cas…" He finally manages to wipe his fingers clean against Balthazar's shirt. "I can't believe you care for this thing. Your maternal instincts must be a real bitch."

Castiel clenches his jaw, refusing to rise to Crowley's bait.

"It definitely has your eyes," Crowley smirks. "All several dozen of them. And Dean's, if I'm not mistaken. You would have to pick the stupid brother, wouldn't you?"

Castiel bristles, but still says nothing.

"Still, I can't complain. I've been looking for leverage, since you've forbidden me from using the Winchesters and I honor my agreements, and you've gone and created the perfect hostage. Saves me a lot of trouble; here I was planning to abduct that whore Dean spent the last year with, and her little brat, too."

Castiel holds back a whimper. His worst fears are being realized, and he's helpless to do anything. He has the strength to burn out his two demon guards, yes, but Crowley will be watching for Castiel to make a move. He could kill Danielle or vanish with her before Castiel reached him.

Better to wait for the right moment to present itself.

As long as Crowley is standing there gloating, he's not hurting Danielle. And if his attention should happen to slip…

"How did you force Balthazar from his vessel?" Castiel demands. There are two ways to remove an angel from its vessel against its will: through exorcism, like what Alastair had attempted, and with a variation of the angel banishing sigil, an excruciating method Castiel never wanted to experience again. Both methods left distinctive 'scarring' patterns on the souls of the vessels. Balthazar had been ejected via angelic sigil, and Castiel didn't like the implications of that. No demon should know how to do that.

Crowley shrugs. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to change. Seriously, who wears a v-neck?" he scoffs.

Danielle lets out a whine, and Castiel instinctively reaches for her. Crowley twists away, putting his body between them. "Uh-uh, Cas… I have a special place set up for your little spawn."

"She needs me, " Castiel says. "She feeds off my Grace; she needs to be in contact - "

"I won't let it starve," Crowley cuts him off, starting to sound annoyed. "That would defeat the purpose of taking it alive. I give you my word; as long as you cooperate, no harm will come to Junior while it's in my care."

Crowley's word, once given, is unbreakable, but Castiel is inconsolable. He needs to hold Danielle in his arms, reassure himself that she's all right, sooth her fears, quench her hunger…

"You really do have it bad, don't you?" Crowley asks pityingly. "I can't imagine being this attached to something so needy and helpless and revolting. This thing is killing you, and you really don't care, do you? Really, Cas, I'm doing you a favor." He tightens his grip on Danielle, and she cries out.

Danielle's shriek is cut off by Crowley's disappearance. Castiel keens, shattering the lab's glassware, and doesn't stop until one of his demonic guards cuffs him with the butt of the angel blade. With a moan, he slides to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. The demons smirk down at him, and one of them comments to the other about the 'mighty Castiel', cringing beneath a demon's boot. Castiel pays them no heed; he's not afraid of the demons - even in his weakened state, there's not much low-level thugs like them could do to seriously harm him. His terror is entirely for Danielle. He tries to follow, but Danielle has vanished from his senses; Crowley has hidden her behind wards, and Castiel doesn't have the strength to fight his way through the building to find her.

They'd never been separated before, and it hurts. Castiel has never felt pain that cut him so deeply, like something vital has just been ripped from his body. He wonders if losing his Grace would hurt this badly.

Crowley returns ten minutes later, clad in his familiar meatsuit and grinning smugly. Danielle isn't with him.

"Where is she?" Castiel bellows, gaining his feet and making a lung for the smirking demon. It's pathetic how easily his guards knock him back to the floor. Castiel stays down, realizing it's to his advantage to exaggerate his weakened state.

"Your spawn is safe. For now. Just how healthy it remains depends on your good behavior."

"She's not part of this, Crowley," Castiel says miserably. He's prostrating himself to a demon for Danielle's life, and he knows he'll do much more to save her. A part of him is stunned just how deep his bond with her goes. "I'll cooperate; please, just let her go."

"And what makes you think you're the prize?"

Castiel's brow furrows in confusion. "I reneged our deal. I questioned your decisions, changed plans to suit my needs, and even aided the Winchesters when it was detrimental to our goal." Castiel ducks his head in shame as he suddenly realizes he's shown less honor than a demon. "Of the two of us, you were the one with integrity."

Crowley shrugs. "True… but that's nothing I wouldn't have expected from you. Unlike the Winchesters, I don't underestimate you."

"Then why?"

"Simple, Castiel. You're food." Castiel's jaw goes slack as Crowley continues, "That little horror of yours nurses off your Grace, so until it's weaned, I can't kill you." Crowley's lips twist in a moue of disappointment. "'Course, that doesn't mean I can't rough you up a little, does it?"

Crowley's mouth stretches into a vicious smile.

~oOo~

Dean somehow doesn't jump into the Impala and break the sound barrier going after his angel and daughter, but it's a near thing. Only the threat of Raphael, and the knowledge that he'll need to be armed with more than just his rage if he wants to bring the archangel and the King of Hell down, keep him inside the house waiting for Sam and Bobby. He also doesn't take a crowbar to one of Bobby's junkers and beat it until he's too exhausted to swing anymore, because he doesn't want to wear himself out before the inevitable final confrontation.

So instead he gathers every weapon they have for use against demons and angels (a woefully small collection) and finishes the job he started with them (had it only that morning?) and cleaning them until they gleam. Danielle's stuffed octopus sits on the corner of the table, googly eyes watching forlornly. And when that's finished, Dean pulls out Sam's laptop. His research-fu isn't as strong as his brother's, but Dean's no dummy, and he's strongly motivated. Castiel had told him about Crowley's lair, an abandoned mental hospital near Bootback, Kansas, and Dean quickly turns up the probably location. A bit more digging, and Dean unearths a video shot in the building by amateur ghost hunters (well before Crowley's takeover, luckily for them), which leads him to the blueprints they'd uploaded on their website. Dean prints them out, and is still studying them when Sam and Bobby finally return.

They don't waste time on platitudes, much to Dean's relief.

"What's the situation?" Bobby asks, as Sam flips through the stack of printouts. "We getting any Heavenly back-up?"

"None of the angels are answering. And no one made a food drop this evening. I considered making an open prayer to any angel who's listening, but I figured I was more likely to get a foe than friend."

"So it's just us humans, then." Bobby's face is grim. "Well, we've had worse odds."

True; they'd survived the fucking Apocalypse, after all, and there'd been family at stake then, too. Except Sam hadn't been a helpless baby, or a wounded angel barely held together by his FrankenGrace.

"I'll make some calls, see if there are any other hunters nearby," Bobby continues, "but I think we're on our own on this one."

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Let's go," Dean says, picking up the duffel of newly-cleaned weapons. Sam and Bobby, who hadn't even bothered to remove their boots and jackets, are already out the door, transferring their gear from Bobby's Chevelle to the Impala.

If they leave now, they'll have a day to scout the area. With luck, they'll be able to get an estimate of how many and what kind of enemies they'll be going up against.

Because it's going to be the three of them against an archangel and the King of Hell, and they need all the advantages they can get.

Dean has the sickening feeling that it won't be enough.

~oOo~

Castiel is seated in a hard wooden chair, head resting on the cracked surface of an old table. His arms are wrapped around his aching belly, an unconscious and utterly useless effort to ease the pain. His head is turned towards the locked and warded door of his cell, through which he can hear the ticking of claws as his hellhound guardian paces tirelessly in front of the door.

One hellhound. Castiel would feel offended that Crowley thinks he's so weak that a single hellhound is enough to keep him docile, except… he's not exactly wrong. Even if Castiel could get past the wards, taking on the hellhound would finish off what's left of his reserves, and he'd be recaptured long before he reached Danielle. The only time Castiel has felt this depleted was when he'd burned all his Grace out helping Dean and Sam break into the Green Room. Crowley is denying him food, and after a day of losing Grace to his child without any means of replenishing it, he can barely walk, much less fight his way down. The only reason he's still conscious is because of his Grace patch-job.

That, and his stubborn refusal to give in to his weakness. He needs to be awake, be aware, so he can seize any opportunity to escape that presents itself. The nearer the eclipse draws, the more focused Crowley will become on the ritual, and the greater Castiel's chance for escape will be. Until then, he'll just have to conserve his strength and plan.

Castiel wonders how long he's been here. It can't have been more than a few days, surely, but he'd lost quite a bit of time, spent in a haze of pain. It had taken Danielle's cries to pull him back to lucidity, and he's determined not to be overwhelmed again.

After Crowley's promise to 'rough him up,' he'd had Castiel taken to his laboratory. Eve's corpse, still fresh even after weeks of being laid out on the table for Crowley to experiment with.

Crowley ignored the gore-spattered tables with their rusted restraints. They wouldn't have held Castiel, anyway. Instead, he'd pushed Castiel into a solidly built wooden chair with the frayed remains of rope wound around the arms and back, and claw marks gouged into the ends of the arms. There were no other signs of physical restraints, or even metaphysical ones capable of holding an angel.

But then, Crowley didn't need them - so long as he held Danielle captive, he had Castiel bound more securely than if he'd used holy fire.

When Crowley had ordered the henchdemons to hold Castiel down, he finally broke. He couldn't help it; the thought of being helpless, completely at the mercy of another antagonistic being made something in him snap. He'd lashed out, sending the two demons flying, and lurched to his feet. Crowley, returning from retrieving his case of instruments, had rolled his eyes and ordered the demons back in position.

"Still got a bit of spirit in you, I see. If you give me too much trouble, I'll just take it out on your spawn. I'm sure it won't miss a tentacle or two."

The fight had immediately gone out of Castiel.

"Don't worry, darling," Crowley had said. "I won't cut off anything you can't live without. I just can't have you getting any ideas about escape." He'd selected a filet knife and examined its razor-sharp, gleaming length, smirked at Castiel, and had proceeded to demonstrate the skills that had earned him the position as King of Hell.

He'd plucked Castiel's primaries and most of his secondaries.

'Plucked' had been Crowley's word, really. 'Flayed' would have been more accurate. Now, the ends of his wings are maimed things of ragged, bleeding skin that won't be healing any time soon. This hasn't just left him grounded; the eyes adorning those feathers hadn't had the chance to migrate to his coverts, so he's partially blinded, as well. And yet, as he stares at the raw flesh that had once held his ragged feathers, all he can think is that Danielle's favorite suck toys are gone.

Unfurling his second set of wings is out of the question; they'd scorch the very air around them, and Danielle would die in the resulting conflagration. Along with half the population of Kansas.

It makes escape seem even more impossible, but humans have a saying: where there's a will, there's a way. And Castiel has never wanted anything more than he has wanted to escape with Danielle.

There's a scuffling sound at the door that Castiel recognizes as the hellhound prancing excitedly. Low murmurs praise the creature, and then comes the sound of the bolt being thrown and the groan of the door opening.

"Dinner time," Crowley sing-songs.

Castiel abruptly sits up, unable to contain his eagerness.

He's going to see his daughter.

He pulls his maimed wings tight to his back, face stony so Crowley doesn't realize just how much they actually hurt.

Crowley hadn't lied about needing to keep Danielle healthy. Several times a day, Castiel is escorted down to the basement, where Danielle is being held, and he's permitted to see to her needs. Once he's enclosed within a circle of holy fire, he can hold his daughter, letting her syphon off his Grace. He'd even convinced Crowley to provide formula (which he always tastes first, to make sure it's untainted), so all of the Nephil's hungers are sated.

Feeding time is what makes his imprisonment tolerable. For a few minutes, he can be with Danielle. He can hold her in his arms, wrap his wings around them, and pretend they're back home.

It's why Castiel follows Crowley docilely through the labyrinth of ill-lit stone hallways, with only the hellhound at his heels to ensure his good behavior. Until he can make his escape, he's going to be a model prisoner as long as he can have these moments with his daughter.

"We're going to have company today," Crowley says. They're crossing the open foyer that had once been the hospital's reception area to the staircase that leads down to the basement, and Crowley pauses. "My business partner wants to inspect the goods before finalizing our contract. So be on your best behavior, Castiel."

Castiel has his suspicions about who Crowley's new 'partner' is. Crowley knows far too much about Nephilim than a demon should, which suggests he's been in contact with an angel. And Castiel can think of only one angel who would be desperate enough to ally with a demon.

He really, really hopes he's wrong.

Abruptly, where before there had only been empty space, there's a presence: immense, powerful, terrifying. And familiar.

"Hello, Castiel," a woman's voice says silkily.

He's not wrong.

"Raphael," Castiel breaths, shrinking away from the archangel. Even though he'd been expecting this, he's unprepared for the terror he feels just being in the archangel's presence. Seeing his fear, Raphael smirks.

This explains how Balthazar had been evicted from his vessel; it had been Raphael's work.

Castiel wonders if Balthazar is even still alive.

"Your little rebellion's not doing so well without you," Raphael says, picking up on Castiel's thoughts. "Losing two leaders in such a short time is very demoralizing."

"And how is your army, Raphael? I had heard that they were abandoning you and that you were in disgrace," Castiel tosses back.

There's no change in the expression of Raphael's vessel, but Castiel can see the other's wings flare out aggressively. "It doesn't matter," Raphael says tightly. "Once the Apocalypse runs its course, we will all be united in purpose again. All sins will be forgiven, and as the only archangel, the Host will again turn to me for leadership."

Unfortunately, he's right; the Host craves guidance and authority. They will flock to him, forgetting their hard-learned lessons in Free Will and once again becoming obedient soldiers.

Castiel just sets his jaw and turns away, refusing to give Raphael the satisfaction of seeing just how hopeless he feels right now. Raphael's expression is triumphant as he turns to Crowley. "You're right; not much fight left in him, is there?" Castiel bristles and clenches his fists and reminds himself that his rage will only get him killed. So he struggles to let go of his anger.

But not all of it. Anger is better than his crippling fear of Raphael.

Castiel trails behind, seething inwardly that Raphael is so confident in Castiel's weakness that he's leaving his back unguarded. It's even more galling that he's right, that Castiel is unable to act.

Danielle is being held in the basement in a tiny cage branded with Enochian bindings, surrounded by a ring of holy fire. Seeing his daughter cowering behind the bars, tentacles curled protectively around herself and eyes squeezed shut makes Castiel ache. She's his child, he should be able to protect her, but he can't even help himself.

The demon guarding Danielle's cage sets a makeshift bridge over the line of holy fire, enabling Raphael and Castiel to cross without having to douse the flames. Crowley crosses first to show that this isn't a trap and the bridge won't be withdrawn as soon as Raphael crosses. Castiel hates the bridge; he can feel the flame beneath his feet, hungering for his Grace. Even Raphael hastens across on his toes to minimize contact. The guard demon follows last, shadowing Castiel.

It's a tight fit inside the circle, what with the four of them and the cage, and if Castiel had still had his primaries, they would have been singed off from proximity to the flame.

Raphael bends down to study Danielle. The Nephil had roused at the sight of Castiel, but Raphael's looming presence had her cringing against the rear wall of the cage, quaking in terror. Raphael's lips twist with disgust. "It's not what I was expecting," he says.

"Not like the Nephilim of old," Crowley agrees. "Strength and beauty, without pesky human emotions to complicate matters - those Grigori knew how to breed them."

Raphael's lips tighten at the implied comparison to the Grigori. "I'd never made one before," Raphael says. "And you'll agree that the source material is… inferior. But its appearance is unimportant, so long as its powers develop normally." Raphael's gaze falls on the bottle the guard demon is holding out to Castiel. "Does it really need Castiel?"

"He is a real pain in the ass to keep around, isn't he? But, unfortunately, if the thing isn't fed every few hours, it weakens considerably," Crowley explains. Castiel shudders, remembering how Danielle had looked when they'd finally given in and brought him to her. "It's refused everything else we've offered it. Unless you can find another Grace wet nurse, it's completely reliant upon Castiel. On the plus side, it keeps him docile."

"Pity." Raphael turns to Castiel. "I was looking forward to your public execution. Well… I'll just have to find other ways you can amuse me before I can finally be rid of you." His vicious smile makes Castiel shudder.

He steps away from the cage and back over the bridge, Crowley behind him. Once clear, Crowley kicks the bridge away, letting the holy fire flare up again. Now that the trap is secure, the demon guarding the cage unlocks it and gestures Castiel forward. Castiel holds out his arms, and Danielle undulates forward with a desperate cry. Castiel holds her tucked against one elbow, holding a bottle to her mouth as she frantically sucks it down. She's just as greedily tearing away at his Grace, oblivious to the pain she's causing him. Castiel doesn't care; his time with her is so short, she needs to take in as much as she can as quickly as she can.

Castiel wants to focus his entire being on Danielle, but with Raphael here, he needs to stay aware. Something might slip out, something he can use.

"Satisfied?" Crowley asks.

Raphael nods. "When will I be able to take it?"

"It's all yours after we've performed the ritual and split the souls, of course," Crowley says smoothly. "Though why you'd want such a revolting little thing…" Crowley gives an exaggerated shudder, watching Castiel out of the corner of his eye. Castiel sets his jaw, determined not to rise to the bait.

"Why do you want her?" Castiel blurts out before he can stop himself. He's surprised by his daring, when all he wants is to keep a low profile, make Raphael forget his presence.

"Thought it would make a nice pet," Raphael says sweetly. At Castiel's scowl, he frowns. "It's none of your concern, Castiel. The Nephil was always meant to be mine - you were just the means to create it."

"She's my daughter," Castiel snarls.

"An abomination," Raphael counters. "Why should it matter to you what I have planned for it? You won't be around to see."

"Because I love her -" Castiel breaks off as it sinks in what he'd just said. Love. He'd said he'd loved her, when before he'd only have defined his feelings as an attachment. Castiel looks down in amazement at the tiny being in his arms, wondering how it had happened. Angels didn't feel love like this towards anyone but their Father.

Danielle, seemingly oblivious of Castiel's life-changing realization, continues to feed, though her grip on Castiel's trench coat tightens infinitesimally. He feels the soft pulse of affection from the Nephil, a response to spike in his feelings. She'd known well before he did how he feels.

And if he loves her - the kind of love he'd believed he was incapable of feeling towards anyone but his Father - then what else was he capable of? What other feelings had he misidentified?

Who else could he love?

He'd known Dean believed Castiel loved Danielle in the way a human parent loved a child, but he'd thought Dean was simply anthropomorphizing Castiel, something he's done all too often simply because Castiel appears human shaped.

It's a bit galling, and humbling, that Dean knows Castiel better than he knows himself.

He wishes Dean were here to share his revelation with, rather than the people most likely to use it against him.

"You… love it," Raphael repeats slowly.

Castiel's jaw tightens, but he refuses to be shamed. He meets Raphael's horrified gaze unflinchingly.

"You really feel that way, don't you?" Raphael breathes, appalled.

There's no denying it, so Castiel remains silent.

"You bonded with it," Raphael says contemptuously. "You care for it. I knew you wouldn't have the courage to kill it, but I didn't think that even you could fall so far as to love it."

Sudden fear grips Castiel as a thought occurs to him. "Did you do something to me, to make me care for her?" What if his feelings for Danielle aren't real? Danielle whimpers in distress, and he automatically pulls her closer.

"No, Castiel. Your… affection for this abomination is entirely your own doing. See what emotions get you, Castiel? You're bound to this creature, and it has made you weak. What happened to that soldier who stormed Hell, who fought his way to the Pit after his brothers and sisters had all failed?"

Raphael is trying to shame Castiel, but he only feels relief. His feelings for Danielle are entirely his own. Raphael cocks his head, confused by Castiel's reaction, but doesn't comment further.

"Time's up," Crowley says, and Castiel's heart sinks. He hates this part, hates that Crowley makes him the one who returns Danielle to her cage. He removes the mostly empty bottle and sets it aside, then pulls her close and plants a kiss atop her head. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and gently places her back in the cage. "I do love you," he tells her fiercely. Her tentacles tighten around his wrist before she releases him and crawls to the back of her cage. It kills him that she already accepts that he has to leave her behind.

Castiel turns away slowly, wings drooping, mentally gearing himself for what comes next. A moment later, Danielle begins whimpering, working her way up to heart-wrenching wails.

Castiel closes his ears to Danielle's cries. He aches to go to her and break her free from her cage, but he can't. Not yet. So he keeps his back to her and walks away, and it's harder than when he'd abandoned Heaven for Dean, harder than when he'd been forced to kill his brothers and sisters, harder than deceiving Dean over the past year. If they get out of this, he's never letting her go again.

Once again, Castiel trails in the wake of his captors, though to his surprise, they don't lead him back to his cell. Instead, they head to one of the empty operating theaters, one with an empty wrought-iron frame that had once been a skylight. Castiel tips his head back and finds the moon peeking over the edge of the frame. It's supposed to be full, but there's a sliver missing from the edge.

It's the night of the eclipse. The ritual is going down tonight.

Raphael follows his gaze. "We still have half an hour before the height of the eclipse," he says to Crowley. He unfurls his wings, stretching them to their fullest. "I will return shortly. I still have soldiers loyal to me. I believe it would be beneficial to have reinforcements on site in case of outside interference."

With a snap of wings, Raphael is gone.

"'Reinforcements,'" Crowley mimics, glowering at the spot where the archangel had stood. "Bringing your army here for a coup, more like." Then he shrugs. "Bring however many angels you want here, sweetheart. It'll just save me the trouble of hunting them all down when I have all the souls in Purgatory at my command."

"So you do plan to betray him," Castiel says. He wonders how; Raphael's going to be on guard against treachery, and the moment he senses something wrong, he can destroy Crowley and every other demon in the building with a snap of his fingers.

"Aren't you the clever one," Crowley snorts contemptuously. "Don't worry; when I win, I won't kill you or your offspring immediately. Raphael seems to have created it for a specific purpose, and I'd like to know what."

"To destroy me," Castiel says, uneasy. Crowley doesn't need to know that Nephilim can kill angels.

"Heaven doesn't revolve around you, darling," Crowley says. "Raphael has something else in mind for it - something that an upgrade from the Purgatory souls can't accomplish."

That hadn't occurred to Castiel. Balthazar had said that Nephilim were powerful, yes, but moreso than an archangel armed with millions of monster souls and an entire Heavenly Host to command? No.

Crowley suddenly tenses, head tilting to listen as something peals against his awareness. Castiel hears it as well and identifies the sound: something has tripped Crowley's proximity wards.

"That's annoying," Crowley says, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "Not unexpected, but obnoxious nonetheless. Watch him," he commands to the remaining guard demon. "If he so much as twitches a feather, use this. Maim, don't kill." He passes over an angel blade - Castiel's blade - then vanishes.

Castiel tenses, wondering if this is the moment he's been waiting for. But the guard is too alert, too ready to use the blade in his hand, and Castiel doesn't need another wound to further slow him. He needs to find a way to distract the guard, give himself a split-second in which to strike.

The operating theater is mostly empty, but there's a shelf of rusted tools that has some potential. It wouldn't take much power to telekinetically knock one to the floor. But before he can reach out and mentally grab the nearest implement, his eyes fall on the spell parchment laying open on the table, pinned in place by the bottle of blood. From where he's standing, he can make most of it out. Castiel cranes his neck towards it and, when his guard demon responds only with a bored glance, continues to tilt his head until he can see the entire parchment, and begins to read.

The ritual actually consists of two spells: one to open Purgatory, and another to draw the souls into the nearest container.

There's something odd about the second spell's phrasing, and it takes Castiel a moment to parse through the ancient dialect to understand what he's reading.

So that's why Crowley had allied himself with Raphael - and with Castiel; only an angel could contain the souls of Purgatory. It had seemed to be a rather risky bargain for Crowley to make, since there was no guarantee the participating angel would honor his agreement (Castiel certainly hadn't had any intention to allow the demon to have any souls), except Crowley had found the loophole: an angel may contain the souls, but only the one who summoned them could wield them. As long as Crowley was the one to actually perform the ritual, he'd be the one in control of the souls.

There's the sound of running footsteps echoing down the stone corridors outside. Castiel's guard demon peers out the door and demands to know what's going on. Castiel tilts his head to catch the reply, and stills when he realizes what's happening. Raphael's angels aren't the only attackers.

Something has breached the perimeter and is fighting its way in, and Castiel can think of only one being - or group of beings - foolish enough to take on the combined might of an angel and demon army.

Dean's here. He's come for Castiel and Danielle… and he's going to find a combined army of demons and angels waiting for him. Even with Sam and Bobby at his back, he has no chance. Castiel has to do something, or it will be a massacre.

Now. Now is the time to use his carefully hoarded strength and make his move. It's his only chance to strike, and he has to make it count.

Castiel may not have the juice to take on multiple foes, but one over-confident demon paying more attention to what was happening outside than to Castiel? He barely has time to do more than flinch before Castiel burns out the demon, and the corpse falls to the floor. The cost to Castiel is high, however, and he pitches forward, depleted. Only thoughts of Danielle, and what he must do to protect her, give him the strength to regain his feet and stagger forward.

Raphael needs to be taken out, once and for all. This needs to end now, before Raphael can call reinforcements, or retreat to fight another day.

Raphael has to die, and Castiel is the only one who has the means to take him down. And the weapon he needs to do so is right here. Castiel is gifted with a photographic recall; the brief glimpse had been enough for him to commit the spell to memory.

Castiel reaches for the untended bottle of blood.

~tbc~

I know I mentioned earlier in the story that angels tend to use the genders of their vessels, but Raphael was referred to as male even when in a female vessel. So I've decided that Raphael is one of the few angels who is predominately male and thus prefers to be referred to as such. Not that this is important information, but it wasn't something I could casually mention in the story, and I didn't want anyone to point it out as a plot hole.

Again, my apologies for not being the swiftest writer out there. My life is a mess right now, and sometimes it's hard to find the motivation to do anything. If you have any interest in my life at all, or if you want to send me a little encouragement, feel free to friend me at one of my accounts! Part of my problem is that I just don't have enough support in my life. Links to my LiveJournal, Tumblr, Twitter, and Dreamwidth can be found in my bio.