Dean watched the conversation between Cas and Sam for a moment, before turning away and staring off into the distance. He hadn't wanted Sam to know about this weird mental communication he had with Cas. At first he'd assumed it was just an extension of what happened when he or Sam used to pray to Cas, back when there was a functioning angel radio. But Cas had disabused him of that notion fairly quickly.
"It's exclusive to the two of us," the angel had said with a gentle smile, one that tugged at his gut in an indefinable way. "Nobody else can listen in. And unlike a prayer, it doesn't just transmit words. You can send me any sensory input you're experiencing, or emotional states." Dean had been unable to suppress a start at that revelation.
"What, so you'll be able to feel if I'm pissed off or… whatever?" He'd asked.
"Yes. And you'll be able to feel mine as well, although obviously my emotional states are not like a human's." Cas had looked nervous, Dean had thought at the time.
Right now, he could feel a steady stream of feelings from the angel, irritation and worry at first and then shock at something Sam had said, before the entire connection shut down. He poked at the mental link experimentally, but Cas had closed him off completely. He looked over at his brother and his angel. Cas was angry and distressed, he didn't need a telepathic link to tell him that. Sam was trying to get a rise out of the angel and apparently succeeding. Who knew what that was about?
Dean turned away, feeling bereft without the constant steadying presence of Cas in his mind. He hadn't even noticed the soft, warm feeling of Cas in there until the angel had shut it all down just now. He tugged at the mental link between them once more, but Cas was stonewalling him. His mouth set into an unhappy line, he walked back to the car.
Dean had retreated back into the silence he'd inhabited before the fight at the diner. It was beginning to get on Sam's nerves. He scrolled aimlessly through his email on his phone, desperately hoping for a lead on a case or something. Anything to give him an excuse to break the unnatural quiet in the car.
"I'm sorry," he said, wondering if trying to talk to Dean was a good idea.
"It's OK," Dean responded. "I wasn't trying to worry you." Sam blinked in surprise and swivelled his head around to look straight at Dean.
"Are you all right?" he asked. A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw but he nodded.
"Yeah. I don't really want to talk about it," he said. "Trust me, Sam. There's nothing to worry about."
"OK," Sam agreed, thinking he'd probably worry anyway. "Did Cas tell you where he was before he came to rescue us?"
"No," Dean said and his knuckles whitened. "But he was with that Lucien asshole again. Once we get back to the bunker, he's gonna tell us what's going on." Sam eyed him skeptically. Cas had been evasive about the mysterious Irishman so far. What made Dean think they were going to get any more answers out of the angel now?
But Cas never showed up at the bunker, and after a few hours of silent drinking, Dean suddenly announced he was going to bed, leaving Sam to contemplate the disastrous hunt in Boston on his own. He slouched in the chair, more whiskey in him than he normally drank and too lazy to get up and go to bed himself. Recently, everything they'd done had felt like they were spinning their wheels. They were no closer to dealing with Amara and for the last few hunts neither of them had been at the top of their game. Dean still completely refused to discuss the idea of Sam returning to the Cage, insisting that there had to be another option. And then there was the matter of Cas' strange, unexplained disappearances. Sam's mouth pursed as he considered the angel's behavior. Dean was right. Next time Cas showed up, they were going to have to press him for a straight answer. He felt his eyelids begin to drift close.
When he heard a crack of thunder, his eyes popped open with a jolt. Staring into the gloom he realized with a sickening sense of recognition where he was. The Cage. The strangely pointed bars were as black and slick as he remembered, seeming to suck what little light there was and all of Sam's hope along with it. A movement to his left made his head swivel around, terror making his mouth dry and his heart race. Lucifer stood before him, wearing the semblance of that poor bastard Nick. His face was curiously gentle and slightly sad and Sam was sure he should feel more afraid when Lucifer stepped closer, so close that they were almost pressed chest to chest. He opened his mouth to speak but Lucifer pressed one cool finger against his lips and he shivered.
The sense of unreality continued when Lucifer stroked that finger along his jaw and then cupped his face. Sam swallowed, the expression on Lucifer's face completely unreadable. He stared at the fallen archangel for what seemed like forever, and then Lucifer gave him a sad smile and the dream faded.
There was still no sign of Cas the next day, a fact that made Dean cranky and Sam twitchy. Eventually, driven to distraction by his brother's mood, Sam retreated into his room with his laptop. Santelli had mentioned a name of someone who had offered money for their capture. The name had not been familiar, and Sam wondered how they'd managed to catch this guy's attention. A quick internet search revealed two Herr Doktor Schatten's in the US, a neurosurgeon in Wisconsin and a professor of history at the University of Maryland. Sam frowned, neither seemed very likely candidates but if he had to choose then the neurosurgeon seemed the more unlikely of the two. He clicked onto the UM faculty page and scrolled down to Dr Schatten's name. Following the link to his profile, he sighed at the scanty information. Dr Schatten was interested in the history and mythology of the Celtic peoples and he had published some papers about Irish and Welsh mythological artifacts. He looked at the photo on the profile page carefully, trying to figure out if he recognized the man at all but he seemed unfamiliar. He was good-looking, somewhere in his mid-forties with iron-gray hair and an infectious smile that seemed entirely at odds with the idea that he was colluding with vampires and other creatures to capture him and Dean. There was a phone number listed and an email address. Sam thought for a moment. Did he want to reach out and contact this guy? Just demand straight out why he was willing to pay for their capture? Sam ran one hand through his hair. Maybe he ought to check out the surgeon first.
This Dr Schatten was a rotund man in his early sixties, with fading blond hair and blue eyes. He didn't look especially threatening either. His webpage described his work on brain cancer in excruciating detail but had even less connection to the world the Winchesters inhabited than the historian's research. Of course, such pages were unlikely to reveal if either man had any strange hobbies, like an interest in the occult. That would not endear any patients to the surgeon, or inspire much confidence in students for the historian. It was a dead end, unless Sam was willing to reach out and contact either of them. He got up and headed out in search of Dean.
Dean hadn't moved from his slouched position at the library table, a beer in one hand and his new phone in his other. His face was fixed in an expression of mulish discontent.
"Hey," Sam said carefully. Dean looked up, and Sam noticed his face was pale.
"Hey," his brother replied noncommittally.
"So, I uh, looked into that guy." Sam said. "The one the vamps wanted to sell us to." A ripple of alarm flickered across Dean's face and Sam swallowed. Did his brother know who this guy was? But the expression was gone and Sam decided discretion was the better part of valor, at least for now. He dumped his laptop on the table in front of his brother and watched his reaction closely. But Dean showed no sign of recognizing either man.
"So who is it?" he asked. "There's two different guys on your screen here." Sam gave a lopsided shrug..
"I don't know. I can't figure it out. Neither of them looks particularly threatening. And there's nothing in their biographies to suggest an interest in the supernatural or anything like that."
"Maybe it's an alias," Dean suggested. "These guys could just be innocent bystanders."
"Yeah," Sam sighed. "I thought of that."
"If Cas was here I'd ask him," Dean said in a thin voice. Sam flicked a concerned look at his brother.
"You did ask him," he said warily. "He said he didn't know the name."
"What? No, not that. I mean the other thing." Sam stared at him in confusion.
"What other thing?"
"The tribute." Dean said, his voice vibrating with suppressed emotion. Sam took a deep breath. He had no idea what Dean was going on about.
"What tribute?" He asked cautiously. Dean gave him an impatient look.
"The reason Santelli said this doctor dude wanted us. Don't you remember?" A cold feeling crawled down Sam's spine.
"No, Dean. I don't remember Santelli saying anything about why this guy was so interested in us. Except to comment that we'd pissed a lot of people off, which was hardly news." Dean's eyes shifted from side to side, in an expression so unlike him it took Sam a moment to recognize it. His brother was afraid. "Could it have been before I woke up?" Dean's knuckles were white on the neck of his beer bottle.
"Maybe," he allowed. "So, you didn't hear him talking about Cas either?" There was a slight wobble in Dean's voice and Sam's unease was increasing by the moment.
"No. Definitely not. What did he say about him?"
"Nothing," Dean said quickly and Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother.
"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have mentioned it." Was this at the bottom of what had sent Dean into a tailspin after Boston?
"It's was just a lot of bullshit," Dean deflected, his face troublingly blank once more. "Insults and the like."
"OK," Sam said slowly. He really wanted to push harder, but if Dean shut down he'd get nowhere. "So, go back to the tribute thing. What was that?"
"I don't know. Just that Schatten had said I would be the perfect tribute."
"You?" Sam said in surprise. "Just you. Not us?" Dean's mouth tightened as he nodded.
"Yeah. Just me."
"Huh. Did they say why you were perfect?" Sam asked, his unease now threatening to blossom into something more urgent.
"I don't know."
"And you were going to mention this when?" Dean folded his arms over his chest.
"I didn't know you hadn't heard Santelli talking about it," he growled and Sam relented.
"All right. I'm going to see if I can dig up any more on this doctor." Dean gave him a stiff nod and he grabbed his laptop and headed back to his room.
Dean drained the last of the beer in his bottle and grimaced. He needed a recharge. He hauled himself out of his chair and shuffled off to the kitchen. As he pulled another bottle from the fridge, a sound caught his attention and he looked around to see Cas stagger into the kitchen.
"Cas!" he breathed in surprise. The angel looked like he might collapse. Dean abandoned his beer on the counter and grabbed Cas just before he slid to the floor, his eyes rolling in his head.
"Hey!" he cried. He dragged the angel over to a chair and managed to sit him in it. "Cas, you have to tell me what's going on," he insisted. "You disappear without warning, sometimes for days and when you show up again you look like something chewed you up and spat you out."
"I told you," Cas began and Dean shook his head.
"No, Cas. No way. Not this time. I wanna know what's going on," he said sternly. Cas sighed and after a moment seemed to come to a decision.
"It's a rescue mission," he said heavily. Dean frowned at him.
"A rescue mission?" he repeated stupidly. This was not the response he expected, although in truth he really didn't know what he had thought the angel was up to.
"Yes. I'm attempting the rescue of an angel trapped in Purgatory." Cas admitted. Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Purgatory? How did an angel end up there?" Another thought chased that one. "Didn't Naomi pull you out of Purgatory? Why can't you do the same thing?" Cas looked down and away.
"Rescuing me from Purgatory cost the lives of many angels," he reminded Dean, who frowned. "With Amara on the loose we cannot afford the loss." Dean stared at him, puzzled by this response.
"So, you want to rescue this one angel, and can't afford to lose a bunch of other angels in the rescue attempt. OK, I get that. But you're still trying on your own anyway. Why?"
"My brother's help with the Darkness will be invaluable." Cas told him and Dean gave him a skeptical look.
"But not so invaluable that Heaven is giving you the resources you need to do the job? This doesn't make any sense, Cas." The angel's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I'm not actually doing this for Heaven," he confessed.
"Dammit, Cas, I thought we were done lying to each other!" Dean exploded and Cas gave him a strange look.
"I wanted Heaven's support," Cas continued after a long pause. "I begged them, not for my sake, but for his. But it seems the faction that controls Heaven right now doesn't think it worth the risk. I disagreed, and decided to attempt a rescue on my own. Lucien offered his help and we've been on a number of scouting missions. We have not been very successful. Lucien's knowledge of Purgatory is better than anyone's, but Purgatory is in a state of constant flux. Doorways open and close, the terrain shifts. Without the full power of Heaven and its angels, I fear we can do no more."
"So who is it?" Dean pressed. "Who are you so determined to rescue?" Cas swallowed and Dean felt a nauseating sense of anxiety.
"You have to promise not to tell Sam," Cas said softly. Dean stared at him, anxiety morphing into outright worry.
"Who is it, Cas?" he ground out, fear for Sam's welfare warring with his concern for Cas. The angel took a deep breath and looked up at Dean with a pleading expression.
"Gabriel."
Sam set up a fake email address, using a random name based on someone he'd known at Stanford and tapped out an email to each of the Dr Schatten's he'd found online.
Dear Dr. Schatten,
I apologize for contacting you out of the blue, but I am looking for someone with your name who might have an interest in the occult. The person I am looking for is hunting for an artifact used as tribute and I believe I have a lead on its location. If you are the Dr. Schatten in question, please contact me to negotiate a price.
Yours truly,
Daniel Krol
Hopefully one of them would be the person they were seeking and would take the bait. He closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, stretching out the muscles in his back.
He was going to have to talk to Dean about returning to the Cage. He was certain now, between the dreams and the visions after his prayers, God was making himself quite clear what He wanted Sam to do. Sam's palms sweated at the idea of facing Lucifer again, but if it was what God wanted him to do, who was he to fight it? Dean would argue and try and twist out of his destiny, but Sam believed. Despite everything, he still believed that God would not let him down.
Dean breathed slowly, in and out, trying to settle his rollercoastering emotions. Cas watched him nervously.
"Gabriel. The archangel Gabriel, who, last I checked, was dead. Killed by Lucifer."
"Well, not quite." Cas admitted. Dean stood up, unable to contain the nervous energy thrumming through him.
"Not. Quite. What does that mean?"
"Even Gabriel doesn't know what happened. He was attempting some kind of trick, but that it didn't go as planned. The last thing he remembers is getting stabbed by Lucifer. Next thing he knows, he's in a gray forest." Dean's mouth tightened in remembrance.
"So how come we didn't run into him when we were trapped there?" he demanded. Cas shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know. Purgatory's a big place and we didn't cover even a tiny fraction of it. So, it's probably just bad luck."
"Bad luck? Why would not running into your dick of a brother be bad luck?" Dean snarled and then recoiled at the look of grief on Cas' face.
"Gabriel was my favorite brother. Before he left, that is. I was angry at him for leaving but I never stopped loving him. And when he came back and he helped you and Sam, at the sacrifice of his own life…" Cas broke off and Dean felt like an asshole.
"But something happened. He got punted into Purgatory instead?"
"Yes. It's not what normally happens when angels die. But this time it did, and he's been trapped there ever since."
"OK. Why are we keeping this a secret from Sam?" Dean had a strange feeling he wasn't going to like the answer to this question. Cas' face was solemn.
"Sam would feel obligated to help and you have enough to deal with right now."
"All right," Dean agreed. "I'll keep it quiet for now. But if I think he needs to know, I'm telling him." Cas nodded in agreement.