A/N: Hi there people. So, I 've gotten three questions so far. Let me take a second to address them without spoiling too much. More prominently were questions regarding Castiel's behavior in the last chapter. There *will* be an explanation regarding that. The second question is if he still loves Dean. That, also will be revealed. His actions are saying one thing, I know.
Another question is if we're going to see Dean again. Yes, you are. You will be seeing Dean again and very soon. Also this is another long chapter. YAY.
"Are you sure this is the place, Balthazar?" Hester's voice was surly, like always. She certainly didn't blend well with humankind in her apparel of all black with a white shirt underneath. The idea was to remain inconspicuous and she with her angel dagger brandished in one hand as though preparing for a fight and her hard expression did nothing to help matters. Maybe she would look normal without those things, short blonde hair, a tough build, a stance of a very independent and strong woman.
"I'm sure. There was a massive power reading right here," said Balthazar. The glamour was up for security reasons. Though it was amusing to have Hester dress up anyway. Balthazar himself was wearing what he had before, a gray v-neck shirt with his black suit on. Every human that passed them by, couldn't see them. It was a street corner in front of a large condemned building. Signs and graffiti were all over it. Most signs implored no one to enter. Plans were on the rise to bulldoze it.
And yet here it stood, dingy and old with gray paint coming off the walls on the outside and high windows. It was probably an old factory of some sort that had yet to be remodeled into anything useful. Balthazar could only imagine what it looked like on the inside.
"Are we going to investigate?" Hester asked.
"I am," said Balthazar. He faced down for a moment, his eyes closing. "I want you to report back to Heaven."
"What?!" Hester was outraged. "Sir. If this is Castiel-"
"It is...and that makes this personal,"
"But sir-"
"You're dismissed, Hester. Return to the Celestial Realm," said Balthazar shortly.
Hester seemed to go red in the face, but she didn't argue, extending her wings and vanishing with the speed of lightning. Her departure left a quick shift in the wind, but otherwise, the atmosphere seemed unaffected.
It had been ten years. Ten long, arduous years searching for Castiel. The order had been given to capture and kill if necessary. It wasn't that long ago that he was branded traitor since he purposefully severed his Link to Heaven. No angel was ever allowed to do that, under any circumstance. Anna had done it once, and paid the price with her life. It was an instrumental sign that one had fallen.
Balthazar's pupil. Castiel was his lieutenant without ever officially taking the title. He had defied the commands of his General alongside him. He had his back...and though the Generals above Balthazar called for his execution, he believed in a fair trial and he would do everything in his power to grant Castiel at least that. An explanation.
It had been nine years since he last saw Castiel. And he thought...that he had said everything that needed to be said as his commanding officer to assure him.
If anything had come of Castiel, then who could Balthazar blame but himself? If his lieutenant, his student had fallen, then would it not be the fault of the teacher?
He entered the building and immediately felt the power surge fluctuate and grow. It was still here. His senses were stronger than a human, he could detect high amounts of Will whenever he was close...but this one called to him all the way to the high realm. Only Lucifer and Michael even had that power. It couldn't be possible that Castiel was as strong as they had been...not yet.
The interior was just as Balthazar had expected. The windows he saw from outside were boarded up with thick wooden planks that kept the sunlight from drawing inside. He could barely see anything, but he could still use his sixth sense as well as the other five. The smell of blood was in the air. Death. There was much death inside this place. The human sense could not detect this and never would. It would merely be a smell of old to them. But to Balthazar, it was a base knowledge he simply pulled.
Something gleamed through the darkness, like a candle had been lit. Balthazar stepped forward on smooth floor, expecting his shoes to hit a puddle at any moment. Surely he would be stepping on a body, but there was nothing there. No obstacle to stop him from going forward. The light grew stronger, brighter the more he approached until he could make distinctions in what exactly it was. It looked like a brick wall with light peeking out between the crevices.
Closer and closer, he realized just how large it was. It was almost seven feet tall and seven feet wide. There was a symbol of black etched onto the brick. It was a symbol he recognized only through the book of legend. The one detailing the Scripture of the Messiah. Every angel in the garrison knew of this symbol and what it meant. The mark would look like three pitch fork for a human, a blade with sword with three blades like a trident. Another went through the stave, to the right side. He recognized this sigil quite easily. It meant "Havoc".
"What is this?" He murmured to himself. He ran a hand over the brick and felt it searing to the touch. Balthazar immediately retracted his hand and saw spots of burning flesh on his palm.
"What do you think it is?" A light flashed on above Balthazar, blinding him momentarily. It was a hanging lamp and all he caught a glimpse of was the dust particles before being forced to close his eyes altogether. The voice didn't make him jump, didn't rattle him, but he knew. He knew that voice.
"Dante," Balthazar slowly opened his eyes and turned around. In the dim lighting, he could make out his face and neck, and nothing more. The Fallen was immersed in the darkness. "I should have known it would be you. Let me guess...You were expecting me."
"No actually, I wasn't at all. Heaven usually doesn't care for matters that don't directly pertain to them," Dante mused, stepping to the side so that he was out of the dim light for just a second, and yet Balthazar kept a lock on him through sense of Will. It was barely readable. Dante must have been concealing his Will power. "But it never hurts to take precaution."
Balthazar didn't see the fire start, he smelled it. The flames danced around him in a single circle that barely gave Balthazar room to move without burning himself. Holy fire. The fire would burn him alive if he got too close to it. He was trapped. Balthazar's gaze on Dante through the darkness was cold. He could see him better, illuminated by the fire, and he got a better readout of the room. As he expected, this was a torture chamber. There were several steel chairs chained to the floor with dried puddles of brown and red stains.
"You go too far, Dante. After all this? Ten years spent out of your hole in the ninth circle and you spend all of it trying to go back? Why is that, pray tell?" Balthazar tilted his head, curious despite himself.
"Let's just say, there's something I need from Treachery," Dante replied. "Don't be so surprised, Balthazar. We're old...friends, after all, aren't we? You know what I want."
"I know what you want," Balthazar conceded. "But that does not mean you have to do this. You think Heaven is blind to what you've been doing? You think we simply abide by it?"
"You have been abiding by it," Dante laughed. "You've been standing idle for years, Balthazar. You show your face now because your student decided to show up at last."
"What have you done to him, Dante? Brainwashed him to do your bidding? You had no right to do that," said Balthazar coldly. "Castiel is a good soldier."
"Castiel's been fixed. Why does everyone keep asking me what I did to him? I didn't do a damn thing to Castiel that he didn't need. You know what you are, Balthazar, you fucking pinecone? You're stagnant. You never move forward. I'm doing this because this is what Castiel wants. This is what we all want. Is it not? You've been at war with demonkind for centuries. The moment someone tries to go to the ninth circle to get the one person who can restore balance, you shut him down completely? That's not very sporting, Balthazar."
Balthazar leaned forward, towards him, squinted through the darkness and locked eyes with Dante. "You're not going to save Dean, Dante. You may have Castiel wrapped around your little finger for reasons beyond me, but you can't fool me. Maybe it was because he was susceptible. He cared for Dean. But you know me?" Balthazar placed a hand on his chest. "I don't care for the King, I never did. I appreciate his sacrifice and I respect his decision. But he's gone now. And you and I both know what's dead...should stay dead. Or have you not learned your lesson on that matter yet?"
Dante's gaze turned frosty in an instant and his tone dripped venom. "Don't talk about what you don't understand."
Balthazar turned away then, a shrewd gleam in his eye. "I smell the blood of Archangels on your hands, Dante. You killed Gabriel. And in such cowardice, you stand before me with me in a place where I cannot fight back? If I were out of this circle, I would cut your throat."
"There won't be any throat-cutting here, unfortunately,"Dante replied coolly. "There's just a game called 'wait and see'. Look behind you, Balthazar. Gabriel had his uses before his untimely demise. Absolving the remnants of him gave me the power to create this," He gestured to the lit bricks pulsating now, revolving. The Havoc symbol burned a slightly red color and Balthazar swore as he looked, it seemed to blur in the air as though in high levels of heat.
"Portal," said Balthazar. "Though sealed. I can sense the Dark Element...Noctis. It looks like the former King managed to seal the doors behind him when he fell in. Am I incorrect in assuming that going back in is not as easy as it was before for you, Dante?"
"Complications have arisen," said Dante cheerfully. "But it's not a concern. Not one you should be worrying about anyway. Balthazar, what would you say to accompanying me down there? Perhaps having some insight will do you good."
"Into your twisted intentions and broken mind?" Balthazar smirked. "If you wish to inspire sympathy in me to your cause, I wager that's a tall order. I'll never sympathize with you, Dante. You lost your path long ago, old...'friend'. And I can't stand the sight of you."
If he expected Dante to look offended or hurt, he was surprised. Barely any emotion passed Dante's face. Not surprising considering Dante had been Fallen for a long time now. He was shaped by the darkness in others. That was one thing. Fallen were all scum and filth, like demons, they only looked a little more like angels.
It was a wonder why they were at war when they were so alike.
"Tell me something," Balthazar asked. "Does Castiel know you plan on going to the ninth circle for your own means rather than his?"
"Castiel is only concerned with one thing, and you know that. It doesn't matter who stands in his way," Dante stated bluntly. "The portal will open today, Balthazar. And I want you to stand right there for me, and watch."
"We're not going back," It was the fourth time she said it. Usually third time was the charm right? Carmen eyeballed Sam with what she probably thought was a threatening look. One hand had left the steering wheel to hold her side where her wound was still fresh.
He asked her if it was going to heal.
Eventually, she had said. The sword that stabbed her was once used to banish and kill demons for a living. Now it had tainted with dark corruption like the one who wielded it.
"We really have to go back, Carmen," said Sam adamantly. And still she refused to budge about going back. He debated his survival if he just opened the car door and jumped out. Vessel or not, survival rate seemed pretty low. Besides, with his luck today, Castiel was probably going to appear out of thin air and grab him.
"No, we really..really don't," said Carmen. "Look. Your parents. I get it. They're all you know, blah blah. But Cas is probably waiting for you. He's probably going to target everywhere he'd think you go."
"She's my Mom," said Sam through his teeth. "You act like you understand...but you can't. Estelle and Mark have been taking care of me since I was-"
"Ten. Yeah, Sam. I know. But you have to understand something yourself. You're marked. He's not going to stop. He's not going to sleep. He's never going to stop trying to get you. The moment we stop, is the moment he's there. He's an angel...I can't fight him," She admitted this with a bit of shame. " I have to get you to someone who can. I know someone. He's been with me these past few years. He'll know what to do. His name is Gabriel...and trust me, he can take care of this situation in a heartbeat."
But Sam didn't want to meet this Gabriel. He didn't even register that considering who he was talking to, someone an expert on demons and angels might actually be referring to the Gabriel. He placed his hand over Carmen's on the steering wheel. The touch, of course made her flinch and look at him with red-rimmed eyes but he held tightly until she saw the look in his eyes. The pleading, the wishing. "Please."
"Fucking Hell, Sam," said Carmen. "I'm telling you. There's no goddamn point."
"I just want to see that they're okay. Please. Please...and then...you can take me wherever you want. Just let me go home this one last time,"
Carmen sighed, and turned her eyes back to the road with a stony face. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment and for a second Sam thought she was in pain then she sped up the car, reaching a place to pivot, making a U turn.
"I don't know why the hell I'm doing this for you. Don't look at me, look out the window. I don't want to stare at your stupid puppy dog eyes," said Carmen irritably.
"Thanks, Carmen," said Sam.
Carmen glowered. "I'm giving you three minutes. Then we're out. We'll probably have to jump again once it's secured. And we're out. You're going to have to say goodbye to Lawrence for a bit."
She expected an argument. Expected Sam to say that he couldn't handle that. He was already having his way now. Why not embellish the moment?
But all he did was look out the window as she had told him with a curiously lost look in his eye. "Yeah. I know."
"What's wrong?" Carmen looked at him. "Does the mark hurt?"
"No. I just hate goodbyes," said Sam quietly.
Carmen was silent the whole ride. Occasionally she would wince and touch her wound and each time she pulled a bloody hand away.
"Are you going to be all right? You don't look so good," Sam noted, watching prominent green veins appear on the side of her face all the way up to her temples.
"I don't normally get attacked by Fallen weaponry if that's what you're asking," said Carmen, breathing hard through her nose. She looked like she was going to pass out on the seat. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure she could make it to the Costigan house in one piece. Maybe injury was something she was used to, but it wasn't for Sam. Seeing her bleed, smelling the coppery salt mix was another reminder that this was all very real and very much happening right now.
"It's not what I asked," said Sam. "I asked if you were going to be all right. You look like you're going to be sick."
"It would not be the first time I was bleeding internally by something out of my control," Carmen mused dryly. But she abruptly turned serious. "My body can repair itself just fine. This is just taking longer because..." Her eye twitched in some annoyance. "Castiel is an asshole."
"Were you guys close?" Sam asked, a little curious despite himself. He wasn't going to start rushing her to go faster when she was already injured. Might as well do something to fill the silence.
"Castiel and myself?" To Sam's surprise, she laughed. Strange. He was expecting to be stepping on a landmine like he did with when Dean was mentioned. "No. We were not close. Not at all. I think my first memory of him was him standing among people who wanted to kill me."
"Your first...memory?" The way she said it, made it sound like she was describing waking up to the world as a newborn baby and actually having enough mind to remember it. He realized she was one too. How old was Carmen, really? She said she had been watching him for over ten years, so what did that make her? For some reason, he thought he really didn't want to know that piece of information.
And yet this was a fate that was not far off in his future, perhaps. Carmen was internally bleeding.. Estelle and Mark were targeted by a madman. The alternative was giving in. Just letting go. Everything he had believed in, everything he had lived through these last ten years had been one big lie instilled by someone else. Castiel. Why Castiel did it and then wanted to kill him now was a big mystery to Sam, but he didn't care.
Sam couldn't recall the memories that made him care for Castiel in the past, if he ever did at all. It was a shattering prospect to know you weren't human. To know that the deep-seated fear that everyone had thinking they didn't belong actually rang true for Sam. He didn't belong here. He was a big...nothing. A vessel, or whatever fancy name they came up with. Point was, he wasn't like anyone else.
The biggest regret he had was for Jess. Jessica Moore had been the most constant being in his life. She was his light, if nothing else was. Maybe he wasn't human, and maybe what he felt for her was just a shadow of actual human emotion. But he had never felt more strongly for a person than he did for Jessica. If the time came that he had to die for this cause he couldn't even fathom, his only regret would be that he didn't get to see her one last time.
"Does it hurt?" Despair distorted Sam's voice, but he didn't care.
"Does what hurt?" Carmen asked, looking over at him startled.
"Being a demon. Dying. Does it hurt?" Sam wiped at suddenly wet eyes despite himself.
Sam expected that Carmen would give him one of her fierce green-eyed looks and reassure him that nothing was going to happen to him. Not if she could count on it. That's usually what happened in the movies when the sidekick or the damsel in distress got all doubtful or scared.
He didn't expect that she'd turn grim, seeming to turn paler the longer he kept his gaze on her. Maybe she wasn't going to answer him. Maybe the answer was complex. But her voice came out almost remotely. " Every time. The pain of your death is your sharpest memory when you wake up demon. It's all I could remember...then other things started surfacing too...fuzzy. But gradually, it all comes back."
She turned to look at him more fully. "You would probably remember all the things you've forgotten."
But he didn't want to remember all the things he had forgotten. Seemed like a train of thought that no one should have gone through.
No one human, anyway.
"Why did Dean turn you?" Sam asked. "Do they always plan this?"
"Usually, but no, he didn't plan on creating me," said Carmen, and she didn't look disappointed or even bitter about it. If anything...she actually looked sympathetic. "He killed me to sustain himself. The life force that binds living beings together is like candy for a demon. It's power. It heals your wounds, it empowers your Will. Most Will you see a demon use is Will stolen. He killed me and left me for dead. But I was brought back by...someone else. By then it doesn't matter. The act of killing in itself is enough to leave a taint on the soul. I woke..demon."
"But you said you remember eventually," Sam insisted. "What happens if you remember?"
Carmen was a long time answering, then she took her dry hand off the steering wheel and held up two fingers. "One of two things happens when you remember. You either go rogue, probably try to kill yourself, or your maker...or either. Or...you just learn to accept it. That's a much more practical way of going about things, but not exactly the most common."
"What about you?" Sam inquired, hesitating because he felt he was probing.
"I remember...I was nineteen when Dean killed me," said Carmen steadily. " I remembered everything not too long after he died."
"Do you blame him?"
"No," Carmen replied.
"No?" Sam was shocked.
" I don't blame Dean. Besides there is absolutely no point in hating someone who's got nothing left to give. He's gone. And I can't change that," said Carmen. Sam watched as goosebumps appeared on her arms and her face washed with agony. "I miss him."
"I'm sorry, Carmen," said Sam, taking her shoulder which she evaded. and flashed a cold gaze at him. "No, I really am. I guess I know what it's like. To lose someone...or something. I guess if I remembered him, I'd be sad about it too."
Carmen pursed her lips. " The bond between a parent and child extends beyond anything you can probably comprehend."
"And is that what Castiel wants to do with me? Bond?" He remained mostly silent throughout Carmen's little explanation but now he knew he looked visibly shaken.
"I don't know what Castiel wants," said Carmen, sighing. " It's so unlike him. It's so unlike him to do any of this, to harm you. He cared about you, Sam...He wanted to keep you safe. He erased your mind to keep you safe from this world. And now...I don't know. Now he's working with Crowley? For what? Why now? Why today? I feel like I don't understand anything when I think about it. I feel like it's all a lie. But how can I deny what's happening right in front of me?"
Join the club. Sam thought.
"For what it's worth," Sam placed his hand on her knee. "I'm glad you're here. I don't think I would have survived two seconds without you here by my side...So...thanks. It means a lot. I know we've never met before today...but it means a lot that you know, you're trying to protect me."
Carmen sure was a piece of work. Instead of blushing or getting even a tiny bit humbled, she moved her knee away until it bumped against the other one. "Thank me when we're out of this mess, Sam. Speaking of which...we're about to be there."
She wasn't wrong. Carmen had turned the car into a very familiar neighborhood. For some reason, Sam felt obligated to drink in all the sights he could in that moment. Why? Well, there was that stinging possibility that he might die today. How does one truly prepare for something like that? But he was doing the right thing, going back, wasn't he? They may not have been his real parents, but they were all he knew. And if Mark or Estelle got hurt...then how could he live with himself, even if he didn't remember it later on?
He saw the sidewalk where he used to ride his bicycle until he was thirteen, still having a hump at the end steeping towards the main road. He remembered riding only at night so as to keep away from other children. He wasn't very popular in his youth and now he understood why. Maybe it was because there was always something off about him. Always something that he had that made him stand out from other people. Maybe that was why his middle school and high school bully always pushed him around and Sam could feel something speak in the back of his head that said he didn't...deserve that. That he was better.
Unconsciously, Sam's hand traced a watch on his wrist. It was a gold and silver watch with a huge clock panel on it reflecting back at him. It was all he probably would have left of Jess. She had made it special for him on Christmas morning, storming his apartment. They had had a Christmas party at her Mother's earlier that week. And inside the watch panel and watch hands, there was a subtly lightened picture of the two of them embracing on the couch. He could see the way her smile lit up her face. He could imagine her kiss as it felt on his lips.
When Carmen pulled up to the house, she stopped at the mailbox. The first thing Sam noticed was that both his parents cars were missing. That wasn't exactly unusual for Mark. Mark was at work of course, but Estelle rarely left the house. Why was her car gone? She sent that text in all caps. Wasn't it a general rule if something was in all caps, then it was super serious.
His immediate thought was that he was too late. He pulled out of the car, ignoring Carmen's protests when he did. She didn't look too well anyway. If anything, she looked like she might collapse and soon. They were probably on par when it came to strength. Which wasn't exactly the most reassuring prospect in the world.
The house looked strangely foreign to him. Unwelcome.. Cold, somehow. But Sam ignored all of that. He made straight for the door, clasping the door handle tightly and slamming his shoulder against it to open.
What he saw was a shock. The whole house had been ransacked and destroyed like a tornado had blown through it, he could see the dark wood of the floor, which he hadn't seen in years, blocked by Estelle's throw rugs. Now the rugs were torn as though a beast had raked its claws through them. The dining room table set was upturned. The television set that Mark had bought Estelle just last year beset by a large black oak entertainment center had a hole through the glass screen. Things were strewn all over the place. It was unfortunate that Estelle was an antique collector. Sam felt like he had stepped into a dream. A very cruel and vivid dream. There was broken glass everywhere. Estelle...or Mark had not gone down without a fight.
But the most horrifying Sam saw was the nothingness. There was all the Costigan possessions everywhere. But there was no sign of a body, no sign of Estelle anywhere. Sam didn't have to walk very far to see that, midst the chaos. There was blood dripping off the end table near the door containing the phone. Dripping. Fresh. Whatever had happened, had just happened. Which meant they were still here.
Sam turned around to address Carmen, let her know. But that's when Sam was eclipsed by him. He was shorter than Sam, but in that moment, he looked enormous. Perhaps it was the fact that Sam wasn't blind to it anymore. He could see the dark wings that clung to his back, seeming to draw the shadow to him. He could even see the steady blood that dripped off the feathers much more physically than he had in the cafe. His body took up the entire doorway and Sam found himself backing away despite himself. Despite the fact that he believed himself human for so long and knew now that he was something much more...despite the fact that Carmen had said he held power inside of him. He didn't feel powerful. He felt weak...and scared. And he knew just by the faint scent of his Mother's perfume mixed with the stench of blood that came off his skin...that he had killed them.
"I knew you'd come here, Sam. Sentiment is a terrible weakness to have," Castiel spoke slowly, drawing up to his full height, wings extending in a deadly manner that forced Sam to back up into the house, nearly tripping over the upturned couch.
"Did you kill my parents?" Sam asked in a shaky voice. There was no denying they were gone. Up close, Castiel looked more inhumane than anything Sam had ever seen. Not quite an animal, just something empty. Devoid.
"They weren't your parents," Castiel answered calmly. "You have no parents. You have no true lineage. You are a cosmic force that was never meant to exist on this plane. But you do."
"I don't hold any power or force. I don't hold anything. I don't have anything for you," said Sam. And it was quite true. His body had chilled and numbed at the prospect of Estelle and Mark dying for...this.
"You have your life," Castiel tilted his head. "That should suffice."
Sam's eyes darted towards the space behind him and he caught a glimpse of an empty car near the mailbox. "What did you do with Carmen?"
"Is she really of great importance to you, Sam?" Castiel stepped closer, stepping over a shard of glass as though it was something soft. One of his Mother's china plates that were on display over the fireplace. "Do you know what she is?"
"She's been protecting me for-"
"Ten years. That's a long time to be watching someone eat, sleep and drink without danger, don't you agree?"
"I don't care what you say. What have you done to her?"
Castiel took another step towards him and this time he was close. Much too close for comfort. Sam could feel cold breath blow his way, making him shiver. The way Castiel was looking at him. It was like he was under a microscope being evaluated. He was looking at everything in Sam, he could tell, every detail as though he was a painter about to create his masterpiece.
He watched a shadow emerge from the corner of his eye and saw someone he had never seen before enter the threshold. For the first time, Sam could accurately label something demon from first sight. It was a man slightly shorter than Castiel with flat black hair and a slightly receding hairline. He looked a bit older than Castiel too, and yet there was something that said he wasn't as much of a threat. He could not see wings, but he could sense something...off. Not human either. It was like what he felt with Carmen, but whereas Carmen's every word seemed to contradict her being, this demon was different. By his stance, by that cruel little smile on his face, this demon didn't disregard what he was, didn't put an act up to deny it. He was a demon, and he was proud.
Sam's eyes slid downward where he dragged Carmen in by the shoulder. He had bound her hands somehow behind her back and she was barely standing on her feet and she collapsed to her knees in front of him. On her side, the black dress clung to her skin more so from the wound. She couldn't fight. Her face was much paler than it had been before, or perhaps it was just because of the little sunlight coming in and she lacked color here. She drew a sharp breath, ragged and labored. But her eyes were on Sam in a way he didn't think possible for someone like her. It was true, he didn't know Carmen well. But the little he knew of her suggested that that kind of expression wasn't something usual. Defeated. Broken. Lost of hope.
"You hurt her," Sam remarked to Crowley.
"Hurt her? I merely incapacitated her, mate. Big difference," Crowley answered.
"She's trying to stop me, Sam. If there's one rule in the world you have just opened your eyes to...it's that survival instinct is key. If something tries to kill you or deny you...You have every right to destroy it," Castiel looked back at her with that same dead look. She couldn't even hold his gaze for long, as if it was too painful. He slowly turned back to Sam. " I promise I will not draw out pain. It hurts me to do this to you, Sam. It does. But I have no choice."
Before Sam could answer, it was Carmen who did, in a low anguished voice. "You always have a choice, Castiel...You're just making the wrong one. You don't have to do this."
Castiel blew out hard through his nose. "I have spent...the last ten years going through every trial of Hell and embracing the darkness within each circle. The final test I must pass is this. Love. I have to destroy what I love. That is what it takes to embrace treachery. To betray everything...and that is you, Sam."
"You don't love Sam," Carmen scoffed without humor. "You never loved Sam. You would never...hurt Sam. This is not you. I don't know what happened to you, Castiel. I don't know what made you like this. But Sam...loved you in the past. He trusted you. You and I were all he had in this dark world before you turned on him to keep him from this world...and now you're dragging him back by the foot and you...you don't give a damn. If this is about getting into the ninth circle to see...If it's about that, you know it's wrong. It's all types of fucked up and you know it. I don't know what Crowley said to you..But please."
"Everyone's always blaming me," said Crowley in mock exasperation.
Castiel turned to the side, looking away at something Sam could not see. His eyes looked black from this angle. It wasn't hard to imagine, even without the vision Sam saw of him in white...that this angel was once prominent, strong...vibrant and full of life. Probably a strong soldier.
"I love Sam," said Castiel, without looking at Sam. "I always have. I absolved your mind with a simple memory spell to protect you from this world, it is true. But the truth is, Sam. You belong here. You belong with me. I'm going to take you home...and you're going to thank me for that. Maybe not now...but a home with me is better than a life full of lies that were built to sustain the pretension of normalcy."
"If you loved me...," Sam began, surprising himself at how steady his voice was. "You wouldn't have killed Estelle or Mark. You would have...let me go. If that was the point, then you should have just let me live in this 'pretension'."
Castiel blinked and yet Carmen and Sam's words were doing nothing, Sam could tell. He didn't have a soul...Maybe angels didn't have anything to resemble humanity. As much as he may have looked human from afar, there was nothing in him. Even stating he loved Sam was something he said without conviction, without any effort to argue. He was speaking because they were. And it didn't matter to him what they said.
He had already made his choice.
Castiel advanced towards him in one step and Sam felt his throat tighten and his heart hammer in his chest. He was going to die. The dream he saw this morning. The burning curtains of the graduation stage. The twisted face that was no doubt Castiel echoing in his mind that it was time to go home. It all came to mind. It all came full circle. Castiel reached behind him and drew out the lightning sword.
"Dean," Carmen's voice called. She was pleading now. "Think about Dean, Cas. Please. He wouldn't want you to do this. He'd never ask you to kill Sam to save him. I would know. I got a good share of his emotion while he was alive. Dean's happiest memory was seeing his angel for the first time. As you were. You remember, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter what Dean wanted," Castiel's tone was cold like the icy breath he exhaled. "He's not here."
Not here. Not here. Not here. It seemed to echo in her mind.
He hadn't been here. He still wasn't here. And yet everything came down to him. Even in death, he was the at the center of the center of it all. The cause and the effect. His death had destroyed the lives of everyone who knew him.
"Don't do this, Cas. Please. Just let him go. Kill me instead. Just take me instead," Carmen whispered.
Castiel reached forward and touched Sam's cheek. He saw a muscle jump in his jaw and a slight recoil. "No."
"Get on with it, Castiel," Crowley snapped. "We don't have much time...and I'm eager to see how the vessel is as demon."
Sam closed his eyes. And yet he had to say it. He would never get the chance again. His hands rose to surrender and he too let his body drop to his knees. "Listen...I can't stop you. I know I can't...but please...Jessica. Don't hurt her...Don't let her know I..that I died. I'd rather her believe I never came home. I left."
"Sam..," Carmen's voice broke.
"And don't hurt Carmen, please," Sam opened his eyes and his voice gained strength. "Please. She was only trying to help me...I know now this is between you and I. Just don't hurt any more people...please? I don't want anyone else to die for me."
Castiel inclined his head, and he though he saw something flicker behind his eyes. But it came and went too fast for Sam to catch. "You have my word."
"It's all I would ask of you,"
Everything seemed to slow in that moment. Carmen was watching Sam who closed his eyes and spread his arms eagle as though preparing to be sacrificed. But hadn't he done enough? Hadn't he been through enough? For ten lifetimes. He had given his body to Lucifer, held his power. His entire infancy and childhood were stolen from him. Looking at that little smile on his face, Carmen could tell what he was thinking. That the last ten years were a lie. Maybe he was thinking of his parents and how much they had loved him. Maybe he was thinking about Jess and how much he loved her.
But it all boiled down to the fact that the last ten years were the happiest moments of Sam Costigan's life. The life he spent blissfully ignorant of the world of demons and angels. The world without Dean. No matter how great their bond might have been in the past. No matter how much Dean loved Sam. No matter how much Sam loved Dean. It didn't matter. Because Dean was no longer the savior of his life, the object. He had moved on.
Unlike the other two people in the room.
Castiel moved around Sam, rested his sword against his throat. And all Carmen could think of was what she was in that moment.
A boy who would die for the sake of others.
An angel who would kill for his demon.
Castiel's blade was swift as he struck, cutting Sam's throat. Carmen screamed, but there was no sound in this house. She couldn't hear herself. All she wanted to do was hear him. Sam's eyes snapped open and wide, gazing unseeingly at the ceiling then rolling to the back of his head. Instinctively, Carmen lunged towards him but Crowley's grip on her shoulder was hard as a rock, shattering her bone at her sudden movement. She never made more than inch towards Sam as he fell forward. The mark on his back burned through the shirt leaving a fine black imprint of where it had been.
Crowley let her go then, and with no support holding her, Carmen flattened, not even bothering to try to save her fall in anyway. With her hands still bound, it didn't matter. She scooted her body as close as she could, curling towards Sam's lifeless body in the little space.
"Sam," She whispered.
She barely felt it when a hand came down on her head and pressed upon a spell. A surge of Will coiled inside her and she felt her eyes close, blacking out the day. The last sensation she felt was Sam's blood as it pooled underneath her.