Hello! As I said, my updates have started to slow down. School is killing me! I hope you enjoy this chapter. There are only a few more to come! Thank you everyone for your support. I can't wait to check off the complete box on this story. Please leave a review! 1 review feels like 1 hug :)
The sky had rapidly blackened, and now Dean could barely see a few feet in front of him. "Something's not right." Ivanael remarked, and Dean could just barely see the shining whites of his eyeballs and the slight curve of his cheek move as he spoke. The teen shivered an hugged his arms together. Dean was getting a strange feeling as well, almost a hunch that something had gone wrong.
He strained his eyes to try and see anything beyond the few people that were near him. The only thing he was able to see was the small pinprick of glowing red from a cigarette. He smiled to himself. Calcifer.
As he strained his eyes, the strangest thing happened. It was almost as if he had closed an eyelid that he never knew he had. His vision was suddenly illuminated with everyone around him, he saw their figures like they really were. He saw human shapes that were pure white,with slow moving celestial clouds whirling and churning inside them. A few still had prinprick stars that lay unmoving, but most were bare. He saw that each light was warm and encompassing, and he suddenly felt much safer being able to see all these beings than feeling like he was in the middle of a deep blackness.
In this state, he felt almost more deeply connected to those around him. That was why he noticed right away when something was disrupted. He tried to place the feeling, and a split second later there was a massive, ground-rumbling explosion.
He watched as a wildly beautiful, yet deadly explosion bloomed from not so far away. He saw a few bodies thrown into the air, and he just saw a split second of the horrors before he quickly and unconsciously snapped out of his viewing state. He shivered greatly, and not just from the cold. He'd physically seen their graces get torched beyond repair, he saw the light that the dead angel briefly emitted, and felt a deep, almost instinctual disgust. He compared seeing the dead and fading light to seeing the bloodless, discolored skin of a corpse.
He gripped his blade tightly and felt Ivanael press his arm to his lightly, urging them to stick together. Dean was keeping tabs on the people in his troop whether he wanted to or not.
Although the commanders had tried hard to keep everything highly organized and efficient, Dean could physically feel the strain on the bonds to his troop as the dark forrest erupted into pandemonium.
There were the sounds of running, blades on blades, yelling, screams that ripped through the air, or even worse were the screams that abruptly dropped into silence as murder took place.
Dean heard Velias yelling something, but he might as well have been speaking a different language for all that Dean understood.
He knew a few things just instinctually alone; this fight was not going as it had been planned. The enemy had attacked from behind, drawing them into the dense, dark forests. How they knew where they were was beyond him. Suddenly, he felt the bonds strain even more. It kind of hurt, but not as much as the painful wrench of feeling a family member dying.
Dean felt his troop's bond suddenly splinter and rupture quickly, bursting into shards. The people that he'd felt so fiercely about before he suddenly was completely indifferent to.
"I think it just broke. Oh, god. This is chaos," Ivanael said next to him, peeping up at Dean. "We're still going to fight together, right?"
"We'll be okay, Ivan."
Dean tried hard to get back that sight he'd had strained to see, and when he did he had to fight hard against his fear and disgust as he saw angels being ripped apart all around him. He was able to see the lights and distinguish them easily; but something was different. The semi-human shapes he'd seen before suddenly became a bit more smooth, more human-like. What had happened? Maybe their additions didn't show up when he was viewing their graces. He didn't have much time to ponder anyway, as violence was erupting all around him.
"Dean! Help!" Dean heard Ivan's pitiful call, as he lay in an extremely vulnerable position on the snowy ground, he had been quickly shoved down and was fighting hard to keep the slashing blade away from his body. Dean didn't recall when it had first started, but he found himself unconsciously yelling as he plunged his blade deep into Ivan's attacker.
He helped the long-legged kid up with an extended hand. He climbed to his feet and looked a little bit shaken up, he wiped some different-colored splatter of light from his face. Dean realized it must be the person's blood.
"Come on, we need to get somewhere safer!" Dean yelled over all the noise, gripping the teen's skinny upper arm and roughly leading him away from the bloodbath.
Sam didn't want to have anything to do with his troop once he'd felt his bond to them break. He fought off an attacker who had leapt at his throat, and he felt so disoriented in the dark, as he only sometimes got flickers of his true sight.
Bright battling lights strobed in and out of his vision, making him feel sick. He stumbled to run and try to get cover, anything to get away. He almost fell as he felt a shallow dip underneath his feet. He quickly felt with his arms; it was definitely a protective bunker. He settled in, gripping his gun tightly in one hand and his blade in the other. For all he cared, the enemy could come to him and then he would deal with them. In no way did he want to initiate a anything. He breathed heavily, keeping a tight hold on his weapons. His awareness was extremely sharp as he breathed in and out as quietly as he could, anticipating, feeling the ultimate suspense.
Suddenly, he heard the loud crunching of snow as someone rolled into the pit with him. He almost jumped out of his skin, but relaxed a tiny bit when he heard a higher-pitched sigh; it was a girl. He smelled something acrid and metallic in the air, she must have been injured.
"Who's there?" She called out, and the absence of a multi-voice indicated that she must be on his side.
"Samuel," Sam said quietly, relaxing the grip on his weapons just slightly. He had help now.
Suddenly, a dud bomb went off just a few meters away. Instead of exploding, all the oil quickly slipped over the ground and was set ablaze, letting Sam finally see something in the dancing red-orange light. The girl was small with dark black hair that was spilling down her shoulders and pieces were falling into her pale face, looking eerily like cracks on the face of a porcelain doll. She looked up with wide eyes, looking shaken up and adrenaline-ridden.
He saw that her chest had a deep gash in it, and she breathed shallowly in and out.
She suddenly got a look that seemed to Sam like dark realization. She started to move closer to him, and Sam leaned closer, thinking she was going to tell him something important, the thing she'd realized.
Then, quicker than Sam could react, the girl had whipped her blade out and had plunged it deep into his shin with both hands, she had a twisted smile on like she herself was a demon. Sam cried out in pain and quickly pulled himself backward, as he whipped out his gun and shot at her in panic, once, twice. He got a quick strobe of true sight before her grace finally left and her body, as well as those haunting dark brown eyes that were reflecting the flames, disappeared.
The grace he'd seen was cold, steely, harsh and unwelcoming. On top of that, the grace had died, making the light he saw even more repulsive.
Sam felt the full effect of his injury once the moment had passed. His leg screamed with pain, it was worse than anything composed of simply flesh and blood could ever achieve. He gripped his leg into his chest, the pain was wrenching. He grimaced and tried to collect himself. Somehow, he knew what to do as he reached out and felt all the connections to his family, feeling all of their waiting minds. He felt sick to his stomach as he watched and a few of them completely disappeared, falling out of his awareness as the angels were killed.
They're disguising themselves as human-bodies. Look at their graces, Dean heard the warning say clearly in his head as if he'd thought it himself. He realized with a start that that was Sam who had sent the message. At least he knew he was okay.
These sneaky bastards. With it being so dark, it would definitely be somewhat difficult to tell the two sides apart know. Just the few second stall of trying to tell could cost a life.
Dean looked over the lip of the mound he had Ivan had situated in, and his jaw dropped as he saw the scene unfolding before him.
He saw tongues of fire that was moving fluidly like a river, illuminating a wide radius with a dim red-orange light. He squinted his eyes to see, and saw that Michael was tearing apart the enemy as if they were nothing. The fire was shooting off, wrapping in a circle around at least twenty enemy angels. He looked to see how those flames were possibly moving like that; he saw Calcifer and Gabriel's silhouettes, both were guiding the flames with huge motions. Dean almost had forgotten how powerful Calcifer really was because of his laid-back manner and casualness. But these two did not look like people to mess with.
"How are they doing that?" Dean asked almost under his breath.
"Every angel has the capacity to move things beyond their bodies, but it takes a long time to master and grow. That's why those two are so good at it. Just look at the frequencies, Dean."
Dean concentrated, and it came to him relatively easily this time. He saw Calcifer and Gabriel's, well, he wasn't sure what to call it, but it kind of looked like a three-dimensional shadow enveloping their bodies, and they were twisting and wrapping around the flames, directing them into a circle. He got what they were doing now: creating a fire ring of holy oil flames around the enemy, pulling in tighter, constricting them together.
Dean looked down and saw his and Ivanael's shadows of influence-they were quite small compared to the flourishing ones around the two commanders.
"They take time to grow. But sometimes you can see its effects. Usually when you're upset."
Dean remembered how floors cracked, how he'd slammed a door without touching it. He returned to seeing normally, looking out at the amazing scene unfolding before him. There was so much he still didn't know.
The ring was almost complete, rounding up the group of angels like cattle. Then, Dean saw what came next and his jaw dropped. They surged up and seized a random victim close to the edge, throwing him down to break the circle, and as he burned his comrades sprinted over his body to get out.
"Heartless bastards," Ivan said under his breath, cocking his Leviathan gun. He brought it up to steady it, squinting one eye to aim.
"You want people like that in charge of heaven?" He fired, and his aim was true. It struck one right in the center and it fell, black pumping through its whole chest, as the remnants of wings painted the ground.
Ivan licked his lips quickly, instense concentration on his face. He fired again, just grazing one's shoulder. He finally hit him, but so many more were coming.
Suddenly another human rolled over the top and threw herself into the pit they were in.
"Phew. It's crazy up there," she said, trying to smile at them, her light hair falling into her face. She was beautiful, Dean thought. But something about her wasn't right.
"Dean, the grace! Look at the light!" Ivan warned him, and Dean quickly spun around, gripping his blade tightly. The girl was grinning, her hair wild on her face as she slashed at Dean's throat. Dean quickly dodged it, as was about to plunge his blade in to end her, when he felt a harsh shove. It took him a second to realize it hadn't been a physical shove, but mental. He briefly saw her shadowy influence shove harshly against his tiny glow, trying to find a weakness. She was reaching to kill him, and Dean felt woozy as he almost got a veiw of his childhood home in his eyes, a quick flash before it slipped away.
Ivan had plunged his blade deep into the small of her back. He ripped it out and Dean saw the cold-lighted embers dance and die in the dark. This felt different, it didn't feel like he was killing the enemy when they showed themselves like this. He really felt like they were killing other angels this time.
"Damn," Ivan said, astounded. "What was she doing just then? She looked like she was trying to kill you without touching you or something!" He said, exasperated. The kid seemed very overwhelmed at this whole situation.
"She saw I was weak, she was trying to give me another mental attack," Dean explained, watching unemotionally as the body quickly disappeared.
"You're not weak, Dean." Ivanael insisted, an almost pouty look on his face. "I'm glad I found you to fight with instead of anyone else," He tried to convince him. Dean was about to say something back as they heard a large swell of sound, interrupting their short conversation. They both peeked cautiously over the pit. There was a huge group of enemy angels, pushing forward and not faultering or being gunned down whatsoever.
Ivanael shot at the flood of incoming people, but his aim seemed to never be quite right.
Ivanael seemed to pause, squinting. "Dean," He called out, and Dean could hear some undertones of fear in his voice. "Dean, something's wrong. Something is really wrong." He said, squinting at the people who couldn't seemed to be touched.
Dean went to look; really look. He saw some sort of translucent shimmer inveloping the enemy, protecting them in a sort of tunnel. In this state of vision, Dean could see each bullet ricochet off of their protective tunnel, and he was suddenly struck with insight. He had done that before: pushing Sam away from that bomb, helping Calcifer get out of the way.
"This is not right. It's someone from our side helping them; someone with a lot of power," Ivanael said almost in disbelief. The sides had become extremely clear-cut. Why would anyone betray them?
Dean tried to scan with his eyes and see the source; he had to accept when he had a hunch was true. It was Velias.
It made sense, why everything fell to pieces when the battle first started. Someone from the inside must have given them insight. When Dean looked, the light from his grace seemed just a shade different from everybody else's.
Dean watched in horror as the enemy began streaming toward their side, slipping lithly into pits and ripping angels, his angels, apart like they were nothing. His heart throbbed with pain at the losses.
"We have to do something!" Ivanael cried out, clutching at his heart. The teen had the most pitiful expression on his face, his light violent eyes beginning to shine with tears as he pressed his lips into a frown. This kid had some serious heart. Dean was beginning to really like him.
"You don't really think we can take Velias down on our own, could you?" Dean said, feeling skeptical. He didn't want to leave the somewhat-safety of their little hole-in-the-ground.
"No. But we could help those fighting right now," Ivan said, determination flooding out of his body and perfuming the air.
They both looked out with wide eyes. Many of their brothers and sisters were now getting their bearings and fighting back, as metal-on-metal scrapes and twangs filled the air, with the occasional boom.
"Okay," Dean agreed, nodding curtly. He needed to help. He felt a fierce pull to help his new family- he needed to do everything he could to protect them.
"On three," Ivanael said, looking at Dean with a kind of smile that looked like he felt like a hero.
"One...Two...Three!"
Dean pushed and scrabbled out of the little protection they had, pushing his legs and digging his toes into the softening groud to sprint as fast as he could to aid his family. He felt like he was running so fast he was almost flying. He had his blade in a good, firm hold, and he was setting his focus on one of the enemy that was winning in a one-on-one fight. Then, it struck like a bolt of lightening.
Dean felt the bullet rip through his grace and explode out the other side. He was almost blinded by the pain for a second, completely disoriented.
Gabriel had seen the same thing. He rushed over to the man he'd been working with, someone he thought he could trust. He definetely overpowered him, rushing and seizing the man by the throat. Gabriel was angry. His influence lashed out, sporatic spikes rising and falling and a wind began to stir from nothing, kicking up bits of melting snow so that it looked like waves in rough water.
Velias could do nothing to fight back against the powerful archangel, who had him by the throat. Gabriel's power was ripping away at the edges of Velias's grace, slowly beginning to kill him.
"Why? Why did you do it?" He demanded, as the fierce wind began to stir both Gabriel's brown hair and Velias's grey hair. Gabriel looked into his face with a piercing expression. He should have known.
"Things are not meant to be this way," Velias said in a low voice, his yellow eye glinting with passion. "Being human like this is a sin. It's despicable. We should not inetfere with out father's plan. There was supposed to be an apocalypse. We should not have stopped it." Velias explained, gritting his teeth as his grace was being slowly torn apart.
"You're wrong." Gabriel said in a cold voice, and the wind picked up a little bit. He couldn't believe a brother could betray them like this. And that he'd gotten away with it right under his nose.
"Goodbye, Velias."
Gabriel felt his anger well up, as his shadow of influence easily overwhelmed Velias, reaching in and finishing the job, ripping apart evey fiber of his grace until the light became that of a corpse's. Without warning, Gabriel was then slammed to the ground with a force more powerful than any angel but an archangel could muster.
"Raphael," Gabriel said in a cold voice, turning his head to look as he rose slowly from the ground. He had to kill his brother now, or never, because he'd get to him first.
"Ivan. Ivan, wake up." Dean clumsily overturned his friend next to him with his left arm, his right shoulder was screaming with pain. He didn't want to believe his eyes as he saw charred wings painted on the ground, as Ivanael's kind-looking face was completely slack, his eyes half-opened and glassy, his pale lips hanging open just slightly. Three silver blade-bullets had burrowed deep into his body, all of them would have inevitably killed Dean. Now he understood why he'd been represented by a tiger in his first additon. He was too damn loyal for his own good.
"Godammit! Ivan, why did you have to leave?" Dean felt tears come to his eyes. Everyone. Every. Single. One. He ever got close with died. All except for his two, the only two people he ever let in his heart.
Dean left him, the world was beginning to swirl in front of him. He crawled to the nearest dimple in the now mucky, wet ground with just a few clumps of snow. He could just barely make it out in the pinkish-gray dawn light. The sun's rising had escaped his notice, he'd been fighting so intensly. He collapsed into the small protective bunker, breathing heavily.
He tried to reach out and sense for Castiel or Sam, but the pain was so great he couldn't focus. He felt lightheaded, strangely detached from where he really was. His stomach lurched as what he could see pitched and blurred. He thought he might blackout, as all his limbs were so heavy he couldn't lift them at all.
I'm dying. Dean thought with a shock. There's no coming back. It's too late for you, Dean.
Dean felt his lungs pumping, he felt his ribs pull in and out as his hot breath escaped his lips and swirled into the air. What would happen when Sam and Castiel found him? He didn't want to imagine the looks on their faces. Maybe they wouldn't even know which pair of blackened wings were his. Their bodies only stayed a few minutes before being magicked away.
Dean tried to collect himself, but he felt the tips of his fingers go numb as his stomach felt like it was going to turn itself inside out.
He didn't know when someone had come up next to him. He could barely feel anything as he zoomed in and out of awareness. Someone was leaning into him, hugging him. Sheilding him. Dean breathed in, and the person breathed in at the same time.
"Cas," Dean called out. Maybe it was only his imagination being a cruel devil.
He had another queazy, fussy lapse of conciousness, and was vaguely aware that that someone had put their hand on his wound and was healing it. This person wasn't looking so hot themselves.
"Cas," Dean called out again, feverishly. He was almost unaware he had said it again. It took him a second to register that the Someone was talking back to him. His voice sounded tinny, he seemed faraway as the words felt fuzzy around the edges, ebbing into his mind before becoming too faded to recognize the sounds.
"...you'll make it. I need to take the bullet out and..."
Dean's head was swimming. "I don't...I'm not..." He wasn't sure what he was trying to say. He just wanted to hold onto something, he felt like he was going to start floating away. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but he became aware that there was a hand in his. There was still a palm over his shoulder.
"Cas. Cas, is it you?" He felt himself say, slurring. It oddly felt like his lips weren't even his. He felt so numb.
"Hold on, Dean." He heard his whole voice this time, clear as a bell. He felt like he was sinking back into his body, somehow surfacing to awareness. It was Castiel. Dean could tell now by the light his grace emmitted. His head was starting to clear as the pain in his shoulder was dying down, he wanted it to keep going until it was numb, but it didn't. At least it wasn't blinding now, but it was still searing. He became aware of other things that had escaped his awareness before, although things were still lurching a little.
He was covered in mud. The snow had started to melt, leaving pools of ice-cold water that were quickly absorbed to make dark, thick, ice-cold mud. He shivered as he noticed the icy clumps clinging or smeared on his body. He'd rather have the snow.
Then he noticed something else. Warm liquid, bleeding into his clothes and sliding down his arm. He looked over to see Castiel. His face was pale, his eyes were closed. Silver was sliding down a gash in his side, slipping down his arm in a silver snake and dripping down Dean's knuckle, the hand he held.
"Are you o-" He started, but shut his mouth when his vision blurred and spun, making him feel like he was going to be sick. He felt himself losing balance, leaning forward.
He felt gentle hands pull him back, someone was smoothing down his hair, it felt nice and comforting. Like what his mom had done when she'd tucked him in at night, a long long time ago. He felt mud on his back as he heavily leaned back again.
"Stay still," A comforting voice told him. Dean closed his eyes, he still felt the world spinning unpleasantly. He breathed in and out, feeling fuzzy some moments and sharp the next as the pain in his shoulder stabbed at his brain, demanding attention.
He squeezed the hand he held. "Are we dying?" He whispered, opening his eyes to see the stars swirling up above
"No," Castiel whispered to him. "We'll be okay. It's all okay."
Dean felt a punch of nausea to his gut, he leaned to the side and felt warm liquid force its way into his throat and pour into the mud. He hacked and spat out what remained- it tasted horrible, like he'd imagine mercury would taste.
Again he felt gentle hands guide him back into place. He felt his body relax, and he suddenly felt a pleasent headrest on his shoulder. His head fell with a dead weight onto it.
Dean felt another lapse in conciousness, he was only jerked back to throw up again, his frame clentching painfully, straining his shoulder even more. He collapsed back to press himself against the mud. He felt silver blood on the corner of his mouth, but was too weak to wipe it away. He felt a soft, warm thumb do it for him.
"I'm sorry," He said, not sure what he was applying it to. He felt cold, soft fingers comb through his hair. His one hand was warm and glowing, not numb and pinched by cold like the one he had resting on top of the icy mud.
Then, the first one rang out. The sky was illuminated with a flash of white as Gabriel and Raphael had finally started to fight. The ground rumbled, and there was a loud and powerful crack that sounded like lightening.
"There's nothing we can do now but wait," Cas said next to him, leaning in closer to his side. Dean laboriously lifted his arm and stretched it, laying his hand on Cas's shoulder and weakly pulling him close. He felt the warm blood in his clothes press unpleasantly onto his skin. Castiel's breaths played rythmically against his collarbones, and he was grateful for that. At least that meant he was alive.
There was another loud crack, and the light almost came through his eyelids. The ground rumbled much more this time, the water-and-blood puddle next to Dean sloshing with the rolls of the ground. Dean somehow found the strength to pull Cas even closer, and though he was much too weak to protect him now, he liked to think he was.
He didn't know how long it lasted or how many clashes there were. His senses were dull, he felt each one without any inkling as to what the count was. All he knew was there was himself, and there was Cas. He couldn't think well enough right now to imagine what was going on around them.
The whole sky was illuminated a pure white, which lingered far too long to just be another clash. It finally burnt out, and an eery silence followed. Only one of the brothers could have triumphed.