Chapter 5
Amy yanked her angel blade from the demon's chest and let the body fall to the porch, the last of the orange lightning fizzling out. Her shoulders shook with heavy breaths, her hands trembling. The female demon's lax face and vacant eyes gazed sightlessly up at her, not accusing, just…empty.
Amy shifted her gaze to her blade, the edges tinged with only a little blood. Something about demonic essence combusting and cauterizing the meatsuit's wounds. This was her first kill. Well, she'd vanquished the enenra, but that had been an evil spirit. This demon was the first being of solid flesh and bone that Amy had to physically stab with her angel blade and watch die in the throes of fire and brimstone.
And it wasn't like training at all.
Sam came vaulting up the steps. "Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.
She managed to meet his gaze, and nodded. She wasn't hurt. Maybe in a little shock, but they didn't have time for that, and so she shook it off. "What happened with the other demon?"
Her uncle's jaw ticked and there was a flash of alarm in his eyes that instantly set her on edge. Yet before he could answer, a twig snapped and they whirled toward it. Elijah came around the side of the house. His gaze roved over the broken porch railing and two dead demons swiftly before looking up at them.
"Where did these come from?"
Sam stormed down the steps. "I thought you said demons stayed away from this place."
"That's what I was told!"
"And what about this demon?" Sam said, thrusting his arm toward the house. "He wasn't hurt by our weapons at all!"
Amy's heart rate kicked up a notch. If the demon hadn't been killed… "Where's Mom and Dad?"
Sam jolted, eyes widening, and he shot a questioning look at Elijah.
"The car is out back," Elijah said. "Engine was still running, but there was no sign of the others."
Amy's pulse stuttered, and Sam blanched in the already white-washed glow from the moon. No way Dean would leave his Baby like that unless…
She bolted down the porch steps and around the side of the house. Sam called after her, but she kept going. Sure enough, the Impala was sitting in the middle of the gravel drive, engine thrumming mildly and the driver's side door hanging open. Amy spun in a circle, scanning the area, but everything else was still and quiet.
Sam came jogging around the corner, the duffel bag of gear slung over his shoulder. Elijah followed several steps behind. Sam threw a questioning look at Amy, and she shook her head. They weren't here.
Mouth pressing into a grim line, Sam pulled out his phone and punched the speed dial. Amy could hear the other line ringing, and then it clicked.
"Sam."
Amy sagged at the sound of her uncle's voice.
"Hey, where are you?" Sam asked urgently.
"Farm down the road. It looks abandoned. Take your first left and drive until you see a barn."
Sam closed his eyes in obvious relief. "Yeah, okay. We're on the way." He frowned. "Are you okay?"
There was a moment's hesitation and then, "No. Cas is hurt bad."
Amy stiffened.
Sam hung up and stuffed his phone in his pocket, then hurried to the car. Amy scrambled in after him, and Elijah had barely climbed into the backseat before the engine was revving and they were lurching down the road.
"What about the demon?" she asked nervously.
Sam's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "I don't know."
Amy flitted her gaze around the passing fields and woodland, nerves fraught with tension. But there was no sign of the demon.
Sam found the barn and they pulled up outside. Amy practically tumbled out of the car in her haste to get out, and the three of them burst through the door. Her gaze snapped to the left where her mom and Dean were kneeling next to a low sitting couch, Castiel slumped on it and covered in blood.
Amy's heart dropped into her stomach. "Dad?"
Dean surged to his feet. "Amy, heal him."
She gave herself a sharp shake to get out of her stupor, and hurried over to take Dean's place. The shock of seeing her dad up close stalled her mind again. There were several nicks across one side of his face, and blood had mixed with sweat to trickle down his skin. He was visibly trembling—short, jerky movements that spoke of nerves misfiring. But none of that was as bad as the blood-soaked tourniquet secured around his waist and the crimson painting his hands where they lay useless at his sides, shaking. Pained grunts kept emanating from the back of his throat.
Amy thrust both hands toward his stomach and summoned up her grace, picturing the warm, pulsing sphere and pushing its healing energy into Castiel.
But nothing happened. Her palms glowed with amber power, but the blood didn't disappear and her dad's face continued to scrunch up in pain.
"It's not working. Why isn't it working?" She whipped around, throwing a panicked look at her mom and uncles. They all gazed back with equally stricken expressions.
"We need to get out of here," Elijah spoke up. "If you didn't kill the demon—"
Dean surged forward and shoved Elijah back against the wall. "What the hell did you get us into?"
Elijah glowered, but didn't push back. "I told you this demon was powerful, that all other demons were afraid of him!"
"Then who were those two out front?" Dean yelled.
"Stop!" Ryn shouted, jumping to her feet. "This isn't helping. The demon is still out there and we need to figure this out."
Amy's throat tightened as she looked back at her dad and watched him struggle against what looked like massive waves of pain. She'd only ever seen him injured like this once before, when a creature's venom had prevented his grace from healing him. He hadn't been as bad as this, though, and Amy had been able to heal him with her grace… Why couldn't she now?
She steeled her jaw and moved her hands over his wound to try again. Castiel's blue eyes wavered as he gazed back at her, like he knew it wouldn't work and didn't want her to be disappointed.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she angrily swallowed them back. No. No, this couldn't be happening. There had to be something…
Elijah suddenly let out a sharp hiss and clutched his hand to his chest. There was a fissure along the side of his finger that was smoldering orange, and the point of a rusty nail poking through the wall with a drop of fresh blood. Amy frowned at him in confusion before realization struck. No.
Ryn's eyes widened in horror. "Elijah…"
"It's started," he ground out. "I can't stop it."
Dean gaped at him in bewilderment before he, too, grasped what was happening. "Oh, you've got to be friggin' kidding!"
Elijah's eyes flashed orange with a mirror image of the flames sizzling underneath his skin. "I told you," he growled.
"Where's the thing we came out here for?" Dean demanded. "The thing that's supposed to cure you?"
Elijah was silent for a moment, save for a few muffled groans. "I didn't find it."
Amy stared at him in dismay. What?
Dean thrust a hand toward the door. "Then get back there and keep looking!"
"I searched everywhere," Elijah rejoined sharply. "It wasn't in the house."
Dean looked on the verge of physically attacking him again. "So, not only was your intel on the demon wrong, but he didn't even have what we needed? Cas is bleeding out over there!"
"And I'm about to explode and kill you all," Elijah snapped.
Dean took a step back, eyes turning to steel. "How do we stop it?"
"I told you, I can't."
"Amala," Castiel gritted out between labored grunts. "You have to fly him somewhere isolated, then get a safe distance away."
Amy threw a harried look between her father and Elijah, not wanting to leave. But Elijah was on the verge of exploding, and that would kill half of them, if not all. She looked at her mom desperately for what to do.
Ryn swallowed, but nodded. "Go."
Amy cast one last look at her dad, pleading with him to be okay. And then she leaped to her feet and rushed to Elijah. Taking his hand, she gave a tremendous flap of her wings and yanked him into the ether.
She didn't go far, though. They were in the middle of a bunch of farmland, and so she landed in a deserted field a few lots over that had recently been tilled. Hopefully the blast wouldn't be larger and the resulting fire could be contained. If it spread to any trees or grass, though…
Elijah stumbled when they landed, clinging to Amy's arm to remain upright. She could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Hold this," he grunted, and shoved an object wrapped in cloth into her hands. "Don't lose it."
Amy blinked in surprise. "What is it?"
Elijah didn't answer; he was already staggering away toward the middle of the pasture. Amy shifted her weight nervously before deciding to fly back several yards to the edge of the lot. She could see Elijah's hunched form glowing with orange cracks as the fire inside him gradually split him into pieces. The macabre sight made her gut cramp and her own inner fire quail at the horror of such a process. And then a guttural scream rent the air.
Amy flinched as Elijah suddenly exploded. A gust of hot air buffeted her face, and she recoiled as flames shot up and out in every direction. It washed across the soil like liquid waves, roaring in the night. Most of it lost momentum before it reached the edge of the field, but other parts were swiftly approaching the tree line. Amy took wing to cross the field in an instant, and shot her hand out to ward off the flames. The tongues of fire bent backward at her will and swam back the other way. She leaped into flight again and stopped some embers from floating into the next pasture.
Soon there was nothing but small fires simmering in dirt patches over a char crusted field. And in the middle was a blackened lump. Amy watched in horror as it began to shift and turn, crispy skin creaking with each small movement. Her gorge rose, and she had to turn away from the sight, even though part of her thought she should try to help. Not that she knew what she could do.
She remembered the weight in her hand, and glanced down at the lumpy shape bundled in a rag. Where had it come from? Had Elijah been carrying it all this time, or…could he gave gotten it from the demon's house? But he'd told them he hadn't found the cure.
Still, as Amy's hands tightened around the object, she noted the familiar shape of a handle and a barrel. Why would Elijah have this wrapped up? And if it was his gun from earlier, why would he tell her not to lose it, like it was extremely valuable?
Her gut was twinging, and she started to unwrap the item. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the old pistol with a wood handle containing a carved pentagram, and the Latin phrase "non timebo mala" etched into the barrel. This wasn't just any gun. Amy had read John Winchester's journal, had heard the stories.
This was the Colt.
Dean wanted to punch a wall. Or, more preferably, Elijah's face. But since the guy apparently hadn't been lying about the explosive resurrections at the slightest scratch, bruising him probably wasn't a good idea. Not that things could get worse, since he'd cut himself on a friggin' nail and was currently going nuclear. And now Amy was out there, alone, with a supernatural bomb. What if she didn't get away before Elijah detonated? Someone should have gone with her. But Cas was…
Dean shoved down his fury and went back to the angel, kneeling down next to him. "Let's see," he said, jaw tightening at Cas's distinct lack of healing.
Cas struggled to pull up the hem of his shirt, letting out pained grunts with each minute movement. Cracked black lines were forking out from under the tourniquet where the stab wound was. Dean reared back in horror.
"Alright. Okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah." He took the rim of the shirt from Cas's shaking hand and folded it back down as Cas gritted his teeth in pain. "No, hey, you know what? I've had worse."
"Oh yeah? When?" Cas grunted.
Dean swallowed hard. Okay, he hadn't. And this…shit, he'd never seen anything like it. Why hadn't Amy been able to heal him?
"Dean, something's wrong," Cas said haltingly. "I think the…I think the demon's s-spear was poisoned. I don't…" He gasped. "I- I think I'm dying."
Dean instantly shook his head in refusal. "No." He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Gabriel! Gabriel get down here!"
"Gabriel!" Sam chimed in.
They waited a beat, but nothing happened.
"Gabriel, dammit, we need you!" Dean yelled. "Why the hell isn't he answering?"
Ryn shook her head and looked to Cas, whose brow had creased with concern, but then he craned his head back under a pained spasm.
"You idiots," a familiar voice lambasted.
They whirled around to find none other than Crowley standing in the barn with them.
The King of Hell skewered them all with a murderous glower. "You're all going to die."
Dean stood up in disbelief. "Well, this day just keeps gettin' better," he grumbled.
"Crowley?" Sam sputtered.
"What are you doing here?" Ryn asked.
Crowley glared at them scathingly.
"Wait a second," Sam interrupted before Crowley could answer. "The demons. They were yours."
"Obviously."
Ryn quirked a questioning look at him. "Why?"
"You're all…" Crowley let out a vexed sound. "Do you know what you've done?" When they didn't answer, he went on trenchantly, "Does the name Ramiel mean anything to you?"
"No," Dean and Sam said at the same time.
"Yes."
They spun to look at Cas.
"What?" Sam said dubiously.
Cas's throat bobbed as he fought for the breath to speak. "Ramiel, Prince of Hell."
Dean's brows rose sharply.
"Ramiel, Prince of Hell," Crowley repeated. "It's catchy, it rhymes. And he's going to kill each and every one of you."
Wait, that was the demon they'd tried and failed to kill?
"No," Cas said forcefully. "The Princes are all dead."
Crowley sighed. "That's what we told people to stop them looking. But in reality, not so much."
Dean held up a hand. "What the hell is a Prince of…Hell?" He grimaced.
"The oldest of the old demons," Crowley replied. "The first generation after Lilith. Lucifer turned them himself—before the oceans drank Atlantis."
"They were trained to be generals, to lead demonic armies in the war against Heaven," Cas added breathlessly.
Well, crap on toast.
"Wait," Sam spoke up. "After Lilith…you mean like Azazel?"
Dean flinched in dawning horror.
Crowley shrugged. "They even have his eyes."
Dean mentally reeled back. No wonder the demon blade and devil's traps hadn't worked on him.
How the hell could Elijah not have known they were going after a Prince of Hell!
"My demons were there to keep people away from Ramiel," Crowley continued. "Believe me, that's a hornet's nest you do not want to be kicking."
"Too late," Dean retorted.
"What happened to Cas?" Sam asked, gesturing to the angel that was still bleeding out on the sofa.
Crowley narrowed his gaze a fraction in consideration. "You tell me."
"He was stabbed with a silver-tipped spear," Ryn said. "There was rune work etched into the blade and staff, but I didn't get a good enough look at what kind. It held up against my sigiled katana, with fire."
Crowley's expression slackened in dismay, then resignation. "It's not a spear," he said softly. "It's a lance. The Lance of Michael."
"Michael," Dean repeated dumbly. "As in Michael Michael?" The archangel had a friggin' lance? What the hell did he need a Michael Sword for, then?
Crowley nodded. "Nasty bit of business. Kills everything it touches. If you're a demon, you go up in a puff of smoke. If you're an angel…" He gave Cas a regretful look. "You just…rot away."
Dean glanced at Cas, who lifted eyes brimming over with terror, and the sight crushed his heart like a vice. Ryn went and knelt down next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder as her own eyes wavered.
Dean shook his head at Crowley. "No. No, there's a cure. There's always a cure, and we will find it."
"How?" he scoffed.
"We trap Ramiel," Sam said immediately.
"And we beat his ass until he gives it up," Dean finished.
Crowley rolled his eyes. "It's not gonna work."
"We took down the Darkness," Sam argued. "And the Devil."
"It took you years to defeat Lucifer, and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell to stop the Darkness." He rolled his shoulder and hedged, "Maybe if you had more time, you could manage Ramiel. But right now, in this barn…" Crowley looked at Cas and shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Castiel."
"Shut up," Dean snapped, shaking his head and raising a finger in helpless fury. "Shut up. We don't have time, okay, for your- for you. So either help us or get the hell out of here!"
Crowley gave him a bland look, and then promptly disappeared.
Dean snorted. "Yeah, figures." The King of Hell might help them out from time to time, but only when it served his own needs.
Cas groaned and started coughing.
Dean turned toward him. "Cas, how bad is it?" he asked, dread constricting his chest.
Cas whimpered as he strained to lift an arm to his tie, tugging it loose and pulling his collar down. The black fissures had already spread up his torso to his chest and shoulder, and were currently working on wrapping up around his neck. Too fast; it was moving too damn fast.
Cas writhed in pain and his hand flopped down to his side. "Crowley's right," he grunted. "I can…feel it. The poison."
"Can you burn it out?" Sam asked Ryn.
Her expression pinched as she studied the necrosis currently eating away at Cas's insides. She shook her head. "It's gone too deep too fast. I could just as likely kill him."
"Then Ramiel's our only option," Dean said resolutely. Especially if they couldn't get a hold of Gabriel, for whatever reason. And of course they had to send their one remaining winged player off with Pyro, when they should have thought to send Amy up to Heaven to get the archangel. If anyone else knew how to cure the stupid Lance of Michael, it'd be Gabriel.
"Dean," Cas whispered, and lifted watery eyes to theirs, chin quivering with too much emotion. "Please. Please, don't sacrifice yourselves."
"We are not giving up," Dean growled.
"You need to find Amy," Cas pressed. "Before she comes back. She can't…I don't want her to watch…"
Dean's blood turned to ice in his veins. "I am not telling your daughter that we left you here to die."
Cas closed his eyes, tears streaming down grimy cheeks. He had everything to live for and everything to die for.
But so did the rest of them.
Dean caught Ryn's gaze and jerked his head as he moved a few feet away. She and Sam moved into a huddle.
"So what's the play?" she asked in a low voice.
Dean steeled his jaw. "We hit him with everything we got."