"We should have heard something by now." Ambriel's whisper cut through the darkening night. She turned to look through the dark doorway but Hadarniel held her back, his hands gripping her shoulder. "Fighting. Screaming. Grunting. Anything. It's like he disappeared."
"Calm yourself , Ambriel. Castiel said to wait for a gunshot."
"Castiel has no idea what he is doing."
"You misjudge—"
She yanked her arm from his grip. "In case you haven't noticed, heaven's hierarchy doesn't apply anymore. Castiel is no longer our superior. And you are not mine."
Hadarniel narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to counter when he cut himself off with a croak, looking at the arena wall. Strange lights grew from the ground and crawled up the wall, forming glowing designs. It climbed higher, covering the domed arena. They watched speechless before Ambriel realized what was happening.
"Idiot!" She yelled, "Stupid idiot! They're warding the whole place against us."
Hadarniel tried to grab the doorknob but pulled back with a hiss as the metal burned his skin. Before them, the arena stood, faintly glowing with expertly drawn warding sigils, effectively sealing the arena shut.
"Castiel!" Ambriel screamed, getting as close to the door as possible without feeling the wards' effect.
"He can't hear you." Hadarniel stood back, his expression vacant. "She's got him now. I can't believe I didn't see it before."
Ambiel sighed. The building was blocked. Castiel was trapped inside. Possibly hurt. Possibly dead. She couldn't waste time listening to Hadarniel's monologue.
She grabbed his shoulders and shook. His eyes focused and looked down at her, shocked. Not for the first time, she cursed her tiny vessel. "Stay here." She tried to make her voice as commanding as possible. "I'm getting assistance."
Sealing the arena shut against angels.
For the first time since crash landing in a swamp in lower Louisiana, Ambriel flew. For a moment, as the wind filled her wings, she remembered heaven. Not allowing herself to be swept away in the moment, however, she flew towards the one place she knew Castiel would want her to go. She saw it in his mind's eye every time he opened his journal and whenever they were silent on long drives, his eyes glassy as he gripped the steering wheel. She saw two, sometimes three male faces living in a home in the ground.
She squeezed past some haphazardly drawn angel warding with a pinch and landed in a library-type room with a flurry of wind. Papers flew around her and she heard a shocked voice exclaim "What the hell!"
Looking around, she saw that the source of the voice came from a surprised, but otherwise exhausted man seated at a table with books and papers spread before him. His hair was long and unkempt and a blanket was draped around his shoulders. She recognized him as the face she saw second most in Castiel's mind. Sam.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. "My name is Ambriel."
Sam's eyes widened. "Of c- of course you are. Uh, gimme a second." He slowly got up, not taking his eyes off her, and made his way towards the hallway. "Dean!" he called.
"What?" A gruff voice answered.
"You better get in here!"
Heavy footsteps thumped down the hallway, a gruff voice calling, "Can't a man watch his damn anime in peace—" he froze as he entered the room. Ambriel calculated that with his shortly cropped hair (though it was longer now than in Castiel's memories) and slightly bowed legs, he must be Dean. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Who's the Powerpuff Girl?" His tone was light but he shuffled closer to Sam, where a sawed-off shotgun hung from the back of a chair.
Ambriel ignored his question and stood tall. "My name is Ambriel. I'm an angel of the L- I'm an angel. I have been traveling with Castiel."
Dean's eyes widened, striding closer to her. "How the hell- what're angels possessing kids at Chuck E Cheese?"
"I assume you're referring to my vessel's age." She said curtly, "I assure you that she is a very self-aware, thoughtful young girl who more than consented to my usage of her vessel. Even her guardians know and accept her decision."
"I bet." Dean's eyes darkened. "So where's Cas? Thought you guys were doing some important angel stuff, top secret."
Ambriel cocked her head sideways, confused by the older brother's bitter tone. "I… I regret to inform you that Castiel is in danger."
Dean's cocky grin melted into a deep frown, his eyes angry. "What do you mean?"
"I fear that he's been taken behind angel wards by the demon Abaddon."
Sam and Dean's eyes widened. Sam paled as Dean took two steps forward and slammed his fist on the table. He cried out and clutched at his shoulder, which upon closer inspection was sporting bandages under his shirt. "God dammit Cas- God DAMMIT."
"Dean," Sam warned, "Your arm, man." Dean ignored his bother and paced, rubbing his shoulder and gritting his teeth, resembling a caged tiger.
Ambriel crossed her arms, bored and confused by the two brothers' strange coping mechanisms. "I assure you that God had nothing to do with it."
Dean rolled his eyes. "I see you're fresh out of Bible Camp." He grabbed the shotgun, immediately opening it and checking for rounds. Salt, she suspected. "You're going to have to take me there. If it's warded against angels you're useless."
Ambriel fought the urge to roll her own eyes. "I'm aware. Gather what you need. We must leave now."
"Way ahead of you sister." Dean snapped the gun shut and was heading towards her when Sam grabbed his unwounded shoulder, pulling him back.
They proceeded to have a whispered conversation that Ambriel was fully able to hear and comprehend.
"How do we even know she's an angel?"
"She just zapped in here Sam!"
"Ok, there's a lot of stuff that zaps around! How do we know she's not the one holding Cas and it's all a trap?"
"Well I'm still not leaving Cas to die so what are my options?"
"At least- just check and make sure she's telling the truth."
Dean sighed and turned back to Ambriel. "How do we know you're an angel? We've had this placed warded against angels."
Ambriel snorted. "Please. Your chicken scratches wouldn't keep cockroaches away, let alone celestial beings. I expect that's on purpose though. Once you were desperately trying to keep an angel here, before he fell from grace and became one of you."
She turned to Sam. "I know your ailment, Sam. Castiel mourns it, holds himself responsible for some reason. I'm often confused by his never-ceasing guilt. Nevertheless, he wishes to cure you. I want to help him achieve that goal. I need Dean's help to do it."
Sam's face softened and he nodded.
Dean strode over to her, his eyes flaming. "Wait just a second, you don't get to manipulate Sam in all this. It's not his—"
She cut him off before the words were out of his mouth. "Your antics bore me, Dean Winchester. Do you wish to save your friend or not?"
Dean looked back at his brother, exchanging another silent communication. Sam walked over to a back table and rummaged through a black duffel bag, revealing a large knife with a wooden handle, carved to kill demons. Wordlessly Sam passed it to Dean, who tucked it into his boot. They nodded to each other and then Dean looked at Ambriel. Tired of the delay, she touched two fingers to his forehead and was once again flying through space and time.
Castiel woke up with a pounding headache and a dampness covering his clothes. He opened his eyes and took in the hot, orange flames that surrounded what used to be the ice rink. Holy Oil. He had watched hockey games on television with Kevin and Sam, and recognized the plastic wall separating the rink from the seats, now covered in glowing markings he recognized as angel-proofing sigils. No angel was getting in or out.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?"
The voice was gravelly and quiet, catching him off-guard. Castiel jerked is his hard, straight backed chair at the voice, so familiar and so different than what he remembered. Next to him was another identical chair with what looked like a heap of dirty black cloth resting on it. However, it turned toward him, revealing a pale face. The smile it wore was dark.
"My old partner. Back in business, I see."
"Crowley," Cas licked his parched lips, confused by the bitter dampness still covering his face.
Crowley nodded. "The very same. With a few adjustments." He shifted in his seat, grunting in pain. Castiel noticed that he was chained to his chair and the ground with runed handcuffs. The former King of Hell had thinned down, his face a sallow and sunken mask covered in dirt and sweat.
Crowley saw him looking. "I know, I'm the prettiest princess at the ball." He clanked his chains, adjusting in his seat. "Heavy, these are. Don't think it's fair that you get to move up and about."
For the first time, Castiel looked down and saw that he wasn't bound to his chair. He stood up, his head swimming a little and still pulsating with pain. A bitter, heady aroma filled his nostrils, one he recognized from working on cars with Dean.
"Gasoline." Crowley proclaimed. "They lambasted you with it. Didn't want you to try and hop over the flames. You can't leave without setting yourself on fire, it's why they didn't bother tying you up."
Castiel's headache only increased. He ripped off his jacket, trying to rid himself of the toxic fumes that were poisoning his breath. He longed for fresh air. He turned back to Crowley.
"Are you…?" Cas gestured to himself as a coughing fit racked his body.
"Human?" Crowley finished for him. "I can't say I know. Poor Sam never did finish what he started so who knows what I am now. Someone who cries at ASPCA commercials, that's for sure. A nuisance to her highness."
"Her highness?"
"Abaddon." Cas nodded, Crowley continued. "She's been making waves. Quietly, mind, I doubt even the Hardy Boys have gotten a whiff of it yet."
Cas stumbled back to his seat, the heat and smell of gas making his legs wobbly. He fought to keep himself upright. "What kind of waves?"
Crowley shrugged. "Summoning mass amounts of demons, mostly. Buying out all of the big names downstairs. Taking my job, in short."
"How is she doing this? What about the angels?"
Crowley blinked. "You really don't know?"
Castiel impatiently shook head, too conscious of his heartbeat.
Crowley's mouth settled into a hard line, and Castiel recognized it as pity. Slowly, Crowley nodded his head towards the far wall of the ice skating rink. The warding sigils shined brighter over there.
He got up slowly, testing his shaking legs. When they held him, he stumbled and limped over to the far wall. The closer he got, the more hot tears pricked at his eyes. He quickened his pace and almost fell before he reached the wall, sinking to his knees.
"No." He whispered.
What had appeared to be sigils was actually an entire wall covered in bottles. Glass bottles, plastic bottles, diet coke bottles, mason jars, and Tupperware bowls with screw tops hanging from the plastic wall as if suspended by magic. The clinked and jangled together in a nonexistent breeze over the raging holy fire beneath them.
Grace filled each bottle, angels in their true forms forced to manifest and confine themselves to a tiny space. Some bottles held as many as ten angels, cramped and stuffed inside.
And the screaming.
At first he couldn't hear it, his human ears dulled by chloroform and gasoline but soon it became apparent. The angels wailed for home and freedom, the Enochian scratchy and foreign to his ears. He could still understand, however.
Castiel.
Traitor.
Castiel's breathing deepened and hot tears pricked at his eyes. "No—I didn't mean—"
"Cas!" Crowley called him back from across the room, his voice thick and foggy. Cas knew that the fumes were beginning to slow him down. Through his fog he struggled to comprehend the entirety of heaven, confined to nothing more than garbage. Used for their power. Sucked Dry. Then what? A few empty, broken bottles littered the ground before him.
A door slammed from the other side of the arena. "Well done, Castiel. I beg you to stay away from the fire though."
Castiel growled low as he stood up to face the new voice. He recognized it from the loud speaker before he had passed out. A woman stood closer to Crowley, her dark hair heavy on her shoulders and her features hard and sneering.
"You." He breathed out, reaching for a gun that was no longer there.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked up, feigning innocence. "You caught me, Cassie." She laughed, throwing her head back, "And I would've gotten away with it too!"
Two pairs of rough hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him back across the rink, depositing him unceremoniously back in his chair. The two demons moved back but flanked his chair on both sides. Abaddon circled him like a cat, playing with something small and dark in her fingers.
"You see Castiel, I could sit here and tell you my whole dastardly plot, but I think it's pretty self explanatory. The only cog that doesn't fit is you."
Castiel flicked his eyes around, trying to find any weak spot in the holy fire. They still hadn't tied him down.
Swiftly, Abaddon crouched down so that they were at eye level. "Eyes on the prize, kiddo. You are not getting out of here unless I let you and that… is highly unlikely. You see this?" She held up the small object in her spidery hand. A syringe. "It's my blood. Quite a bit of it too."
She straighten up again and continued to pace. "We started out giving Crowley a daily dose of it. I was trying to give him back his bite." She rolled her eyes. "Forget it though. He still cries at pictures of kittens."
Castiel glanced at Crowley. The former- king of hell's face was paling and he shrunk down in his chair, as if trying to become invisible.
"But we did learn something, so it wasn't a complete failure." She flicked he finger at the syringe, popping the bubbles inside. "Adult humans just can't tolerate demon blood in their bodies, unless they were regularly dosed with it as children. Like our favorite freak-of-the-week Sam Winchester."
"Don't speak about Sam Winchester." Castiel growled at the demon.
"Oh so he can talk?" She asked her unresponsive demons. "Good, that means you can scream. But I don't want to be crude. This really isn't personal Castiel. I know you have angel buddies outside waiting for you. I know who they'll go to once they figure out they can't get inside."
Cas swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "Dean and Sam aren't stupid. And you shouldn't underestimate them. Luring them here won't do your cause any good."
Quicker than he could see, she was in front of him again, both of her hands grasping the sides of his chair, caging him in. "Don't manipulate me, you fallen scum. You don't have any cards to play."
She relaxed, smiling sweetly. It made Castiel sick. She knelt down in front of him once more, snapping her fingers at the demons behind her. They immediately surged forward and grabbed Castiel's shoulders, tethering him in place. He kicked out his legs uselessly, his muscles already logy from the gasoline.
"You see, your best buddies shot me, dismembered me, sewed me back together, and then had the audacity to set my favorite vessel on fire." She gestured at herself, "And I am so not a brunette."
Abaddon ran the needle down Castiel's arm, resting it lightly on the fleshy part of his inner elbow. His breathing came shallow now. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on a memory Dean's face, smiling as they ran out of a seedy strip club in Maine all those years ago, but he only saw falling angels.
"Now you don't have to worry," She pushed the needle into his skin, he winced at the prick, "I've been tested." She pushed the plunger down.
"Okay," Dean began, "You gotta tell me what's here, 'cause I don't see a damn thing."
A large hand passed over Dean's eyes, and when Hadarniel stepped back Dean could see that the old brick walls were in fact covered in glowing blue sigils.
"Jesus," Dean exclaimed, eyeing the powerful wards, "You sent Cas in there alone?"
"I can sense an additional layer of warding within the building," Ambriel informed him, ignoring his comment, "As this is a "rink" for human recreation, my hypothesis is that Castiel is being held within the inner ring. The walls of the arena would be ideal for a second set of sigils."
"Makes sense," Dean grumbled, "So you need me to break the double-decker wardings."
"And douse the ring of holy fire," Ambriel said curtly, "I can feel its heat from here." Both angels' faces were hard. Ambriel could barely keep the disdain from her voice, and the looming Hadarniel had yet to say a word. Dean wasn't sure if it was him, or if they were just worried about Cas. Hadarniel offered him a small slip of paper.
"If you can disrupt this sigil on both sets of warding," he spoke at last, his voice deep and rasping, "It should allow us entry, then we can aid you in Castiel's rescue."
"Sounds like a plan," Dean agreed, twirling the demon knife in his fist. The spray paint in his back pocket would handle the sigils, and the blade would take some of the edge off his anger. Cas was definitely captured, probably hurt, and Dean was in sharp denial of the fact that he could be dead. Time was of the essence.
Spraying over the first sigil was easy. Dean doubted the demon's inside the building even noticed when the outer wards fell. Of course they all noticed when he walked in through the front doors, sending a small bell jingling as he entered what looked like a foyer/snack area. Probably about a dozen odd demons looked up, surprised. Dean smirked. Like they shouldn't a guessed he was comin'.
"I think you got somethin' of mine," Dean announced into the room, "If you let him go we can all walk away."
He wasn't entirely surprised when three or four demons launched themselves at him. The first fell to his knife, eyes flashing as Dean yanked the blade out of his gut. These were big guys, clearly nabbed from a gym en masse or something, because there wasn't a single one smaller than Dean. He tried to duck a large set of arms that threatened to engulf him, slashing and hearing a satisfying yelp. A third arm snaked around his neck, cutting off his air as Dean tried to cut himself loose. A venomous hiss sounded in his ear.
"Winchester," the voice practically purred, "We've been waiting for you."
A flash of white light and an agonized scream later, and Dean found himself back on his feet as Ambriel twisted her sword deep into the demon's torso.
"Filth," she growled, spinning to slam an open palm into another adversary, burning the demon clean out of its host. Another demon screamed its last behind him, and Dean trusted that Hadarniel had joined the fray. With both angels clearing out the foyer, Dean burst through the swinging doors that led to the open arena.
Two demons were on the ground before the doors were closed again, Dean taking advantage of his unexpected arrival. It was a little scary how easily Dean was able to slice into human flesh, even though he knew the true faces of the monsters that hid inside. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting to Cas, and clearing the road for the angels.
Dean grinned as he caught sight of a large lever, flakes of red paint still visible against the rust, with a barely legible sign still hanging doggedly overhead. In Case of Fire.
"Let's see if this death trap is up to code," Dean wondered to himself as he pulled hard on the aged handle. An alarm went off somewhere deep inside the building, and after a few sputtering false starts the sprinkler system kicked in. The water was grimy and rust colored, leaving a gross film where it slid down Dean's skin, but he was willing to bet it was enough to take care of the holy fire lining the arena.
"Nice of you to catch up," Dean snarked. Ambriel scowled, shaking dingy water out of her fair hair.
"This is disgusting," she whined. Hadarniel appeared beside her, taking the falling water in stride.
"I suggest we do less complaining and more smiting, sister," he admonished. Dean grinned. Hadarniel leveled a stern look at him.
"And you less gloating and more sigil breaking." Dean scowled and began scanning the high plexiglass partition surrounding the ice rink. He didn't need an angel telling him how to do his job. Unless it was Cas. Speaking of which…Dean pressed his nose to the glass, spotting the former angel, who was slumped in a chair in the center of the arena, along with…was that Crowley?
"You didn't tell me Crowley was here!" Dean shouted to Ambriel, who was engaged with a demon who must have outweighed her by a hundred pounds at least. She overpowered him easily, slamming her blade into his chest before releasing it with a squelch.
"The presence of one more demon didn't seem relevant to Castiel's rescue," she told him. Dean rolled his eyes and continued along the barrier until he spotted the correct symbol sprayed against the clear wall. It was pulsing faintly in his aided vision and Dean fought his way over, slicing through two demons and trying not to cough up a lung as the extinguished holy fire gave of a cloud of acrid smoke. Through the slight haze he could see the sigil was right next to the gate into the rink, and hanging above that…
"Holy shit," Dean muttered to himself staring up at the sea of suspended bottles. They were all glowing, some more faintly than others. The whole set up was giving off hella creepy vibes, alternating rage and despair.
"My brothers and sisters," Hadarniel said from right behind him, "You should hurry, that we might free them as well as Castiel."
"Y-Yeah, right," Dean stammered, pulling the small spray can back out to break the lines of the glowing symbol. The writing all the way around the edge of the arena flashed red hot, then fell to a dull grey.
"Go," Hadarniel ordered, "Ambriel and I shall stay back. I believe she has a plan for eliminating most of the demon threat. Should there be a trap to be sprung, I'm sure you are the intended target. We are unexpected." Dean nodded. Though he wasn't sure how he felt about being bait, Cas was only a few yards away, and god knew what state he was in. Dean scrambled over the partition, ignoring the twinge in his arm as he put more weight on his injury than he really should. The closer he got to the former angel the more Dean's gut twisted. Cas was slumped in a metal chair, unrestrained, his skin deathly pale and practically white around his mouth from clenching his jaw.
"Cas!" Dean called, but Castiel didn't move. He didn't even twitch. Crowley, bound next to him, was squirming in his seat, looking at Dean with revolting hope.
"If it isn't my second favorite Winchester!" Dean ignored him to kneel in front of Cas, feeling at his neck for a pulse, and getting only a faint and sluggish beat under his fingers. He tried slapping the angel, trying to jolt him awake, but Castiel's head lolled loosely on his neck. Crowley tutted at Dean's frustration.
"What's wrong with him?" Dean demanded when Castiel didn't respond.
"Well, there's the gasoline poisoning, prolonged exposure to chloroform," Crowley said with genuine remorse, "Oh yes, and he's shot full of demon blood."
"He's what?" Dean gasped, "He's not-is he-"
"He'll live," Crowley assured him, "It's not fun. You might compare it to a bad trip on the worst kind of acid. I'm trying to find some vindictive pleasure in it but of course I picked now to grow a bloody soul."
Jesus Cas. Dean pushed the sweaty mop of hair off the former angel's forehead, trying to meet Castiel's unseeing eyes. His hair had gotten a little longer and he looked thin, but Cas was still here. It was gonna be okay.
"Dean Winchester," a silky female voice spoke too close behind him, "I have just been waiting for you to make an appearance." Abaddon.
"You bitch," Dean began, spinning to face the Knight of Hell, "What are you doing to him?"
"You should really be more mindful of your insult choices," Abaddon tutted, "This isn't the fifties."
"Oh yeah?" Dean countered, "You stop beatin' on my family and I'll stop callin' you names. Deal?"
Dean's heart sank as he saw Abbadon was flanked by at least twenty more demons. He wasn't gonna be able to slice his way out of here. Ambriel better have a plan up her teenie-bopper sleeve.
"Where's your brother?" the statuesque demon asked instead, "Does little Sammykins still have the sniffles? I bet all that Heavenly power is just doing marvels for his health."
"Shut up," Dean snapped, trying to cover Cas as much as possible from the demon Queen, "You don't get to talk about him." Abaddon's sneer was vicious and gleeful.
"Pity," she leered, "We had so much fun last time we saw each other. I just wanted to show him how much I appreciated his little fireball routine. I guess I'll just have to wait for those trials to take their toll."
Dean practically snarled, but he tried to keep himself under control. The demon was clearly trying to get him riled up.
"So what's the big deal?" he asked, "Somethin' tells me I didn't just stumble into a tea party."
"I am glad you asked," Abaddon chirped, "This is my coronation celebration! After I wrangle you into submission, we're going to start the festivities: Killing the person you won't admit you hold most dear!" Dean's face grew hot as the demons chuckled.
"You're not gonna touch him again," Dean growled, pulling the demon knife from his pocket.
"Oh, but I am," Abaddon assured him, "And you're going to watch this time. Do you like my decorations?" The demon gestured to the wall of glowing bottles behind her. "I really tried to set a mood with the lighting."
"Yeah they're real sadistic," Dean smirked, "I don't really think my friend cares for them, though."
"Hey! Abomination!" Clearly name calling was just not part of the angel mojo, Dean thought as Ambriel called out. Abaddon turned to look down at the small girl, who held one of the large glass jars of angel mojo in two hands.
"Well if it isn't the littlest angel," Abaddon smirked, casting a condescending eye towards Ambriel's vessel, "Don't you have a Claire's sale to get to? I hear hair bows are buy one get one this week."
Ambriel only quirked her head in confusion before raising the jar above her head and bringing it down on the cement with all her angelic strength. Dean realized what her plan was just in time, clasping a hand over Castiel's delirious eyes and slamming his own shut just before the freed Graces exploded in a flash of burning light. From the frustrated screams around them Dean guessed Abaddon and her cronies had not been so lucky. He heard the whoosh of smoke as the demons were forced to evacuate their hosts in order to escape the angelic rage. As it was, the roar of the outraged angels was enough to bring Dean to his knees, taking all his willpower to keep a protective hand over Castiel's vision. He did his best to curl around the former angel and ride out the sonic boom.
Dean didn't move again until a small hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him roughly.
"It's done! It's done!" Ambriel shouted shrilly, and Dean fights to hear over his dampened hearing, "We need to move. The human police are no doubt on their way and I can't teleport until we're outside the inner sigils at least."
Already the angel was pulling Cas from his chair, attempting to lift him, though at just over four and a half feet Ambriel was having a hard time keeping Castiel's legs from dragging on the ground, despite her angelic strength.
"Jesus, give 'im here," Dean grumbled, hefting his friend mostly over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. It would figure the closest he'd ever get to groping Cas' ass was dragging him unconscious out of a demon nest. They began to scramble back over to the wall of bottles and the exit when Crowley very loudly reminded them of his presence.
"Oi! You're not just gonna bloody leave me here, are you?" Ambriel glared at the demon.
"You're lucky we don't kill you ourselves and save Abaddon the trouble," she snapped. The former King looked genuinely distraught, and Dean cursed under his breath.
"Cut him loose," he commanded. For a second Dean thought Ambriel's eyes were gonna pop out of her head.
"Excuse me?"
"The human speaks wisely, Ambriel," Hadarniel stepped into the inner rink, quickly crossing the laminate floor to slice through Crowley's bonds, "A powerful demon filled with remorse could prove to be a wealth of information."
"Yeah, what he said," Dean agreed as Crowley stumbled to his feet. Ambriel nodded finally.
"You won't regret it," Crowley promised, "I can teach you all kinds of delightful parlor tricks." Ambriel looked at Dean, as if to say "Whatever happens here is on your head."
"We need to get Castiel to safety," was all she said aloud, pushing forward. The sprinklers had long run out of juice but the ground was still slick under Dean's feet, especially with Cas' weight throwing him off balance. A long slow minute of struggling later Dean finally got one foot over the low partition gate, Crowley stumbling past him, before he noticed he'd lost his angel escort. Ambriel was slicing through the knots holding the bottled Graces, letting them clatter to the floor.
"What are you doin'?" Dean asked as Ambriel gathered a few smaller bottles to her chest.
"Insurance," she barked, "If the demons regroup my brothers can take care of it. If not, we'll release them once we're safely away."
"Good idea," Dean grudgingly agreed, "Had? What about you?"
"That is not my name," Hadarniel corrected him, "And I am going to remain here. Once you are clear I intend to free my brethren from their confines."
"The humans…"Ambriel began.
"I will only be a few moments," the angel promised, "I am a protector of Heaven. It is fitting that I should save our family, even outside of our home." Ambriel nodded, following Dean over the partition.
"You know where to meet us, brother," She called back, then to Crowley, "I assume you know how to follow us."
"Yes Madam," Crowley nodded. Ambriel rolled her eyes, then reached a hand up to Dean's shoulder, tugging the three of them clean out of reality.