Balthazar pulled himself to his feet and staggered towards where Castiel was. There was nothing in this cave to suggest he could see anymore. That little illumination provided in the middle of the black pond was gone. It was only that that prevented Balthazar from walking forward. He knew the pond had been tainted with Stigma...and he didn't quite fancy reliving his experience with it.
"Castiel?" He called through the dark.
In answer, the place where the Scripture Memory was exploded with tiny red lights that closely resembled stars. Castiel was still standing at the "altar" in front of the pond. He started to approach him now that he could see. He didn't know why his heart was pounding so hard. He didn't know what the Scripture had done to him, what it had put inside his friend.
He cursed Castiel's impulsiveness. He was slightly brash when he was still a Celestial...but as a Fallen, it was like everything was magnified. He acted on impulse. Much like the one he fell for.
"Castiel," Balthazar said again, quieter now that he was closer to him.
Castiel did not answer him. He expected him to look jarred from whatever happened. Balthazar chanced a glance at the Scripture itself. It was still giving off faint illumination but not quite so much as before. It was just a shade after all. A shade of all three of them. A memory, as it had said.
"Castiel, are you all right?" He reached over to take Castiel's shoulder and immediately withdrew his hand at the tiniest brush of fingers against his clothing. It felt like something had shocked him. And even he, an angel trained to use basic lightning...couldn't help but feel a sharp sting on his fingers.
"Fine," said Castiel at last. His voice was subdued. "I'm fine."
He didn't wait a single minute longer. He pulled the Scripture from the altar and placed it inside and his jacket, turning from the altar, from Balthazar and took off down the caveway at lightning speed. No pun intended. His wings extended and he made flight as soon as he had enough room, spiraling into the darkness and taking the light with him.
Tracking his path, Bathazar followed. "Castiel! What did I say? Stop acting on your damn impulses...Useless Fallen...One of these days I'm going to..."
He never finished, just followed Castiel, saw him become a black speck as they reached the mouth of the cave, to outside where Castiel zoomed past the white plains, ascended above them. Once they were over the forest, Balthazar ceased his flight, eyes widened over the brightness coming from the camp. That had to be Michael...Dante had already brought him out...somehow.
"Michael..," said Balthazar. "Castiel! We're saved!"
But Castiel had descended into the forest where he touched down on the forest floor. He completely ignored what Balthazar had said, seeming to search for something. He lifted a fallen tree that looked like it had fell due to a fight...more than likely between Dante and Dean. Balthazar noted that they weren't far from where Castiel had been trapped in a trench not too long ago near the end of the forest. What drew him down there?
Castiel lifted the tree with power, but there was nothing underneath. He looked up, finding a lone figure among the trees making a slow tread towards the camp. Just by the silhouette, it looked like it had been horribly injured. Castiel didn't wait one second, letting the down tree fall, jumping over it and making his way towards the man.
Balthazar didn't have to guess who it was. He followed, but slowly. Watched as Dean fell down on one knee, lingered against another tall tree that blotted the light that was filtering down upon them.
Castiel knelt beside him, took his side and hoisted him up to lean against the tree where they were face to face, Dean slightly lower from the slump.
"I think something is going on in the camp," Balthazar noted, trying to squint through the obstructions in his way.
"Check," said Castiel without looking at him. "I'm going to stay here with him."
"This really isn't the time for a heartfelt talk, Castiel. The entire camp could be destroyed. We have to secure the others," said Balthazar, eyeing Dean. He didn't look like he was ready to travel by himself. There was blood splatter on him that looked like mostly his own, wet and fresh, running over drier, cracked blood on exposed skin that was probably from ripping Dante's wing off earlier.
Balthazar spotted the wound on his shoulder where Dean clutched. If he was as close as Castiel was, he could probably smell the blood.
"They're probably all dead," Dean's speech was slightly slurred. His face was paler than usual. His eyes had a dull, dark look. The wound Dante had given him cut through bone and flesh straight through. "All of them... I felt Merrick's passing...and Lilith's."
The way he said it sounded like he was drunk and didn't care for anything he was saying.
He sighed, an exaggerated way. "Yeah...Carmen and Sam are probably next...Then, it'll just be us."
"You don't sound concerned," said Balthazar scathingly.
"Oh, I'm not," Dean assured him lazily. "He's won. He got it. He took down my Guardians. He's probably going to kill Michael too."
"Michael," Castiel echoed him. "So you have known."
Dean's darkened eyes swiveled to look at him. "Look at you. All sparked up on Scripture juice."
"How long have you known?" Castiel asked. Balthazar saw his knuckles whiten and he knew his grip on Dean's jacket was tight.
"Since he walked in my realm to reinstate the treaty after I was crowned king," said Dean.
"That was over ten years ago. Before the Scripture. Before anything," Balthazar noted. "You knew that long? How did you know? Why didn't you...say anything?"
"Because I didn't give a damn. He never once came down here, and the one time he did, it was for fucking politics, to ensure I didn't invade your fucking realm and kill you all," said Dean, tilting his head. "As I should have, after that shit Raphael pulled."
"You know a lot...," Castiel mused, looking away from Dean at last, at nothing in particular. His voice was calm, but there was lightning in his eyes. He released Dean and the demon slumped just slightly. "You've known a lot...even when I first met you."
"I know this seems important right now, but I honestly think we should all go to the camp. And no, I don't want to go alone," Balthazar added in an annoyed voice.
"I told you, Dante won. It's just us," Dean looked at both of them, resting his eyes on Balthazar. "Celestial, how does it feel being the bronze medal?"
"Like everyone I know is dead," Balthazar growled.
Dean smiled faintly. "Every party needs a pooper, that's why they invited yoooou."
"Dean," said Castiel in a stern tone.
"Party pooooper... Party poooper," Dean sang.
"I'm going. Castiel. Come on, let's go. Leave him here, we can come back for him later. If he can sing, he probably has some life left in him," said Balthazar.
"I'm not leaving," said Castiel firmly. "I'm going to stay here with him."
Balthazar hesitated. After what happened in the cave, he was reluctant to part ways with Castiel so soon. It seemed like nothing had changed. Castiel looked relatively the same, and by what he could sense, his power level was at the same peak it had been at before...But he didn't know about this Scripture. This Dominion. He didn't know if the power within it was something he could sense. It was something above him altogether.
He didn't like Dean. Never did since the first time he saw him. It was only as a favor to Castiel that he didn't smack him around a few times on principle alone. Castiel had proven to be a being of impulse...and now of great temper. If he left Dean alone with him and the demon continued to snark him. He wasn't going to long survive this encounter.
"Castiel, please," Balthazar begged. "...It's Michael, I can feel his power. We have to stop Dante. Remember?"
"There are more important things," said Castiel simply, but finally he looked away from Dean, meeting Balthazar's gaze. Castiel reached for his sword on his back and held it out for him. "Just go, Balthazar. Do whatever you can."
Balthazar took a half step, either towards Castiel or towards the camp. He battled his better judgement for a few seconds...then...what the hell, might as well walk away from this. He ground his teeth together, snatching the sword from Castiel's hand and headed towards the camp. After a minute, he disappeared into the trees until they could no longer see him. Castiel watched him for a moment then turned back to Dean.
"Let it be, angel. It's not your worth your time...or mine," Dean told him. He reached up to cup his cheek and for the first time, Castiel leaned away from it, looking away from Dean.
Castiel's fingers curled into fists. "Just tell me one thing."
"Don't ask something you're not ready for," Dean warned, dropping his hand by his side.
"One little thing," Castiel insisted, looking into his eyes. "That day we met. That day in the S prefecture...Was that the first time we met? I remember. I came down with Uriel to investigate the power signal. It was Sam...and you showed up with Merrick. Was that the first day?"
"You already know this answer, why are you asking me?" Dean shifted almost uncomfortably. Castiel drew closer. Dean never spoke his thoughts. His actions spoke louder than his words, literally. You had to learn to deal with it...and perhaps Castiel was having trouble adjusting. He closed the space between them, so their bodies pressed together. A hand locked on Dean's waist to keep him from moving further.
"Because you're Memory...and you're the one who knows. Answer the question," said Castiel firmly. His grip tightened on Dean and he knew if he pressed further, even with Dean's demonic strength, he could shatter the hip bone.
"Look who's all caught up," Dean remarked lightly. He didn't wince. If Castiel was hurting him, he didn't show it. But he knew very well if he wanted to hurt Dean, looking at the bleeding wound on his shoulder, he knew where to grip.
"Why would you lie to me? Why would you steal from me? You know what I've done. What I had to do to get here...and you took away my very first memory of you," said Castiel softly. He followed Dean's movement as Dean turned his face, his lips less than an inch away from Dean's cheek. He could count the freckles on his face, see every part of the scar that was given to him long ago.
"You asked me to," Dean whispered after a long moment. "You asked me to lie to you. I lied. I took your memory away, you never saw me again until that day in the prefecture. You looked at me and I looked into your eyes and I knew you didn't remember me."
Castiel thought back then. The memory he actually did recall. The prefecture. He remembered how weak he was back then. He remembered watching Dean call an unknown power to him and use it on Uriel to disfigure him. He remembered Dean holding his chin, looking right in his eyes.
I looked in your eyes and I knew you didn't remember me.
"Why? Why would I...ask that of you?" Castiel asked. It didn't seem like him to want to forget anything. It seemed to be a disturbing notion. What had been done to him to make him request to forget...and how did he know at that point that Dean could do that for him?
"You broke Dominion. I know it was you. He said it. The memory of Dominion, left in this," said Castiel very quietly as he drew out the Scripture from his jacket with his free hand. "Tell me why."
"Because he was an arrogant dick," Dean eyed the Scripture like it was repulsive. "He was always an arrogant dick. We walked into that room where he was kept hidden underground, you and me. I spoke the incantation written on the Scripture and Dominion appeared. He knew we were coming, he knew who we were..."
"And..?" Castiel waited for him to continue.
Dean was far away now, and Castiel's felt a shock when he saw Dean's eyes shining. He wasn't in the present moment, he was back there. Back in the memory that Castiel couldn't remember. His grip on Dean was tight, but even then, he felt the tremors rocking his body.
"He showed us. He pulled memory from our future. He showed us everything. Flashes. The first time I'd touch you. The first time I'd hold you...The first time...," Dean raised his gaze to Castiel as if realizing he was there. "The first time I touched my lips to yours..He showed us everything...Heh...and then he showed us...what we'd become."
"What did he show us, Dean?" Castiel left his grip on Dean's waist, grabbed his shoulders. The Scripture dropped between them, discarded like a piece of trash. He felt blood moisten his palm where Dean was injured, but Dean didn't wince, again. His threshold of pain was high. "Tell me? Did he show us here? Did he show you falling into the ninth circle?"
Dean looked away from him again. "Yeah. He showed me falling. It was pretty tragic."
Visibly, Dean released some tension. He sighed out. Castiel took his face. "I can't hold what I said back there against you. I just wish I could remember myself."
Dean smiled faintly, about to say something, but there was a strange sound like cardboard ripping into pieces. Except that the sound was magnified a hundred times. Castiel's eyes shot above them where it looked like the "sky" was being torn apart. It would have looked bizarre if Castiel didn't know better. The sky, no matter how much it replicated the sky in the human world, was not real. It was an illusion. It was Dante's illusion.
"It's okay, Dean," Castiel took his face between his hands, feeling his heat simmer underneath his fingers. He slid his hand down his neck where there was more heat and brushed his injured shoulder. He knew his touch was cold and that could be felt through layers of clothing. He gripped down on the shoulder, much tighter than before when he was calling Dean's attention back to him. Bone mended instantly with a faint blue light and tissue fused back together, stopping his blood from pouring out so profusely.
"You know what this means, right? We're close, Dean. We can go home...All I need is your help. I can't fight Dante without you," said Castiel. "You understand this, right?"
"Home," Dean murmured to himself. His eyes lost their dull cast and became sharp, bright. Color returned to his cheeks.
Once Dean realized his strength had returned, he snapped his eyes on Castiel. He seized him, pressed his lips hard against his. It was not a kiss that Castiel had experienced before with Dean. Dean always stole kisses in the past. And he didn't care who was there, who was watching. This time it was not different in those respects. But it was the way he acted. His heat was all over Castiel. His hands were tight on Castiel's face, securing him in place as he slipped his tongue inside with a new kind of desperation, as if he couldn't get enough of him. His hands slid down Castiel's shoulders, caught him under his arms and gripped the back of his jacket, pulling him as close as possible in the limited space. Castiel had to pull away if only to take a breath. Dean was bearing down at him with very bright eyes.
Everything slowed down in that moment. One moment he was holding Dean back, kissing him back with the same ferocity that he had displayed... Then Dean's hold tightened around Castiel's elbows and not kindly or gently. His grip was tighter than Castiel's had been. It was only his angelic strength, so much stronger than Dean's that prevented his arms from breaking apart in Dean's hands.
But he had broken his arm before. He remembered that much.
Dean shoved him. Castiel staggered back six feet. Before he could even express his outrage verbally, Dean snapped his fingers. The floor below Castiel collapsed and he fell through another hidden forest trench. Castiel cursed himself and cursed Dean. How could he have fallen into one of these for a second time since coming here?
He caught a glimpse of Dean, standing above the trench before the demon raised his hand and a wave of wind power pushed out of the trench, closing the trap door and removing Dean from his sight. He saw the crevice burn with a orange light as Dean heated the metal, sealing the door from being opened, trapping Castiel inside.
Castiel remained on his back for less than ten seconds, pulling himself up and reaching up to slam a fist to the door. "Dean! What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?! Let me out of here!"
Dean stood above the closed trench, it faded very easily with the mossy forest floor. Hard to see for a newcomer...but not hard for someone who spent the last thousand years walking every part of this realm. He saw the "doors" rock with Castiel's pounding but not enough to break it. Not with melted metal closing the cracks between.
Dean knelt down and touched the mossy door with his hand, feeling the burn that would scald the skin off a normal person. "Angel, I am sorry. I opened Pandora's box...I didn't know what it would do. I never...wanted...any of this to happen."
"It doesn't matter, Dean...It doesn't matter," Castiel's voice came out broken, touching the wall of the trench where he touched his forehead to the surface. "It doesn't matter. We can do this together. We can fight him. Just let me out of here."
"Don't worry about it, Cas. Just cheer me on from afar and I'll be back before you know it,"
"Dean!" Castiel called out. Dean's voice sounded further away. "Please, Dean. I'm begging you. I came here...I came back...for you. My life...It's yours. Don't walk into the dark without me."
"I'll come back for you. I swear," said Dean softly, raising his hand as two trees on either side of Castiel's trench uprooted themselves and stood hovering inches above the ground. "
The two trees fell over the trench covering it. Castiel felt the ground rumble before he fell on his back again. "Dean!"
But this time he wasn't even sure Dean could hear him.
The Scripture that had fallen to the ground glowed at his feet with a faint green light and Dean heard a soft, gentle voice speak in the back of his head.
"You lied to him," said the boy.
"Ah, Dominion," Dean mused. "I should have known it was you who might have increased the angel's power level."
"Are you surprised?"
"When it comes to the subject of you, all bets are off, I suppose," said Dean.
"You cannot undo the future, Dean Winchester. You can only aid it coming to pass...and pass it shall, as I warned you...," The boy paused. "Before you...tore me apart."
"I have no need to justify myself to a shadow," said Dean scathingly. "I've dealt with your burdens for long enough. It's about time I passed it on."
"You think taking on Law and Memory will overwhelm him...It is not something I would recommend counting on,' said the boy. "He will gain more power than you can imagine...and he will come for Castiel next."
"Good thing I could give a fuck about your recommendations," said Dean, pulling his sword free from his back. "I'm a simple person. This is my fight. I did this. I banished him here. Everything's coming full circle. It all comes down to him and me. Angel...he has nothing to do with this anymore."
"If you fail, you doom everyone you know to an eternity of pain and anguish," said the boy.
"I'm an optimist and you should not be so down on me...kid..." Dean turned his back on the Scripture and started to walk deeper into the forest where he would soon be out of range for the boy to speak to him. He stopped just as the presence in his mind began to wilt and flicker. "...Hey, did I ever tell you I was sorry?"
"No," said the boy.
"Must have forgotten," said Dean, shrugging as he kept walking.
Dean didn't stop this time. Soon the sound of Castiel pounding on the trench doors, calling his name faded away the deeper that Dean went into the forest. He found himself closer and closer to the camp. The deeper and darker the forest became, that's when he knew. Eventually he saw the light source through the space between leaves and branches. The Divine Circle Castiel hadn't been wrong. Dante must have found a way to summon Michael to full power. He knew Dante well enough that Dante never failed to have a plan, and if that failed, he had a backup plan. And then a backup plan to back up the backup plan. He never went into a situation unprepared.
Dean froze at the sight of Merrick's fallen body lying on his front with a dried puddle underneath his chest. Dean slowed down just a little bit, making sure he made no sound in his approach. He knelt beside Merrick's body. He had felt this death while he laid there in pain from Dante's wound. He felt Lilith's shortly after. He knew it happened and yet the sight didn't fail to cause him pain...Merrick was a decent Guardian for what it was worth. He had grown up with him. And though Merrick had been a subject while Dean was royalty, they shared a bond resembling brotherhood.
He turned Merrick over, closed his eyes with the lightest brush of fingers and placed his hands over the hole in his chest where Dante had pulled his heart out. Dante had been right. Dying here was not the same as dying in the mortal realm. There was no coming back from death here. You simply stopped existing altogether.
Dean let him go, stood up and walked Dante's path towards the camp. He expected something unusual...So it didn't come to a total surprise that the camp looked deserted and in ruins. There were several bodies, some he recognized. He saw Lilith as the central body, wound in her throat where she had bled out into the grass. Approaching her, he reached down to touch her cheek, turn her head to the side to cover the grotesque wound. She could have been sleeping. Her skin was cold and ashen.
Above him there was a flash like lightning, followed with thunder. He knew it wasn't the coming of rain. It was the Divine Circle, continuing to open above him.
Light filtered over Lilith's dead face and he turned away from it. This stank like a trap. He heard something groan and he spun around, sword at the ready, expecting a fight.
But it wasn't a fight. It was Carmen. She removed a heavy wooden plank and the sheet of a white tent from herself. She looked up, finding Dean approaching her and kneeling down.
"My fucking head hurts," She complained, rubbing her temple and looking around, looking up at the light, then back down. Her eyes went to Lilith's body over his shoulder. And she took in the absence of Sam. "Where's Sam? He was just here...I saw...Dante was coming to get him...He threw me aside. Like a fucking doll."
"Yeah, we're all for throwing people around in Treachery," said Dean sarcastically. He took her by the arms and prepared to put her on her feet but she immediately resisted, going back down. "What?"
"He put a spell on me when he threw me, I think...My body is...aching...Give me a minute before helping me stand," She groaned. "God it hurts...Where's Sam? Where's...everyone?"
"I don't know," said Dean grimly. "I was hoping you would know. So you blacked out after you saw him going for Sam."
"No...he threw me...and I fell..in this tent," said Carmen in an annoyed tone. "Where have you been? Jesus Christ. Did you kill Castiel?"
"No," said Dean sharply.
"Why the hell not?" Carmen sighed, rubbing her head. "Why. He killed Sam. He turned him. He's been working with Dante since the beginning."
"You have a lot of catching up to do, Carmen. Tell me, did that Celestial pass through here?"
"I have a lot of catching up to do? I don't know how to break the news to you, bud...but your um...Dad? Real one, not the fake one," Carmen waved a hand. "He's...Dean. He...He's Michael."
To Carmen's surprise, Dean's face didn't change. She expected disbelief. She expected him to look at her like she was insane and then question her sanity.
"You already know," She said slowly.
"When the ambassador of heaven ends up looking exactly like you during treaty resigns...you tend to notice," said Dean sarcastically, running a hand through his hair and beginning to stand. "Listen, Carmen. I'm going to find Dante. He may know where Sam is."
"No," said Carmen sharply, clamping her hand down on his wrist. "No. Lilith told me. You've been blocking me. I don't know for what. Maybe to keep all that classified information you have in your head locked up tight. You got some shield...some barrier in your mind that you've had tagged since I got here. But it has to stop. I need to know what's going on."
"It's for your protection,"
"Don't give me that bullshit," said Carmen angrily. "Protection. Tell me."
"No. You people have the worst possible fucking timing for wanting explanations. Michael's opened the Divine Circle...and I don't know what passing through it does. We could all be destroyed by it," said Dean, looking up as a faint light passed over his face and then disappeared. They were like search lights. Dean reached over and touched her cheek. "You don't want to be in my head. I cannot put that on you. You don't want to feel my pain...I can't put that on you...Not now."
Carmen's hand loosened on his wrist. At the word pain, she felt bile under her tongue. "Dean...This...whole mess...I'm sorry. Lilith...and I think Merrick too...I'm sorry. I should have protected Sam better."
"It's all right. It's not your fault. I don't blame you,"
"You should be blaming me," Dante's voice. Right behind him. He knew he was there. Distraction prevented him from sensing his presence before. He had always been there, watching. Waiting.
"Shadowalker, you are a champion of segue. Don't let anyone tell you differently," said Dean, looking over his shoulder at him. He spotted Dante, standing still near where Lilith's body was. A sword hilt in his hand with a single golden shard yet attached. Beside him was Michael, not brimming with radiance as one might have expected. But he stood taller than he had as John...with golden armor and wings curled in under a red cape.
Dean stood up, turned fully around, spotted the body that Michael held to him. With a pang, he realized it was Castiel's blade he was pressing to Balthazar's neck. Balthazar's eyes were closed, and his only support was through Michael holding him around the shoulders.
"Welcome to act one, Dean. Where our tragic hero walks right into the bait at the behest of the villain. Do you like the setting?" Dante gestured around them all with both hands. "I think it rather fitting. A realm going to all shits...more than half of 'Team Good' obliterated. Seems fitting, no? I like the twist too...I mean given that you've let...Merrick. Lilith. Sam. Down. "
"Sam?" Dean narrowed his eyes.
Dante raised one shoulder and pursed his lips. "Well. I suppose we shouldn't count Sam. By your definition, what happened to Sam is the only good thing I've done since coming here."
"What did you do to him?"
Dante left Michael's side, circled around Dean and Carmen in a close circle. "I sent him home, of course. He didn't belong here, Dean. He was a pure heart. And he served his purpose in coming here."
"Where.. is.. he?" Dean enunciated slowly.
"Probably lying somewhere in Central Park or Yellowstone. Hell if I know," Dante answered dismissively. "I imagine the first few hours of transition from demon can be a little...off-putting. Why don't you just ask Balthazar here? He came here...Tried to stop me...but he was no match for my new pet." Dante's eyes flashed to Michael. "So I gave Balthazar a gift. He was self-righteous and pompous back when we were more acquainted. Prattling on about his duty to the Chain of Command and humanity. I figured, if you love them so much, why not just experience the rest of your days...as one of them?"
Dean hissed under his breath. "You..."
Dante came up behind Dean, splayed his fingers across Dean's neck. His touch was cold and steam seemed to rise where they made contact. His lips brushed the shell of an ear. "Where's your boyfriend, Dean?"
"He's not here," Dean twisted away from him. "He's dead. I killed him."
"Really," Dante raised both hands and clapped once. "Is that so. You killed him. Hmm."
Dante closed the distance between them again, pressed his body perversely close to Dean and kissed Dean's throat like he was preparing to bite. He sniffed once. Twice. "I don't feel Retribution in you...nor do I feel the stench of Compassion. No, you're still a twisted, jaded unlawful memory."
Dean pushed him off this time, watched as Dante staggered away laughing. "Really, Dean. You're pathetic and predictable. Michael. Bring him down. But do not kill. Save that for me. Just...tickle him a little."
Dean's eyes tracked Michael as he released Balthazar and the angel fell in front of him. Balthazar was not dead yet Dean could not sense any power coming from him.
"Michael...He's using the sword to control you. You understand this, right?" Dean asked, raising his hands level before Michael. "You don't want to do this."
"I know, Dean. I'm sorry," Michael apologized, coming closer. "I didn't want to it to be this way."
"Neither did I," said Dean, gripping his sword tight in his hand. "I'm the one who should be sorry."
He knew he was no match for Michael. He knew it was suicidal for even trying. But he engaged anyway. Michael was taller, wider and best known for speed and agility that he kept up on par with his strength. It was not just his extraordinary Will that made him a formidable opponent. It was also physical strength. He could grip Dean's neck and crush it into dust if he wanted to.
Michael had come to him long ago in this full powered state. It was to reinstate the treaty as Dean had mentioned before. It was right before Dean entered the mortal realm and captured Annael to get information about the Scripture. It was like looking in a mirror. Except no angel could look that depressed. He knew who he was...he recognized his own face well enough. But he never really pursued Michael. It was a fool's task...and whatever happened to make the Archangel abandon him to the fate of being a demon...was on him.
Then he entered Treachery...and he had probably been there only a little longer than Dean and Lucifer. Michael was "killed" in the final battle of Manhattan and his human soul was sent here in the form of the mortal he had been when Mary died. It was a curse for him, as Dean knew. But again, he never addressed Michael formally by any title than his name. His true name. If he had to speak to him to begin with.
Michael didn't give him much time for idle thoughts. He struck his sword horizontally and nearly cleaved Dean's head off if he hadn't crouched low just in time. He was unsteady on his hind legs and looked up just in time to find Michael attempting to stab downward in his direction. Dean launched himself to the side to evade him.
"You can still control yourself, Michael. You're stronger than this. The sword is not the one with the power, you are," said Dean unsteadily, sprawling on his front near Carmen.
"I'm in control," Dante amended with a cruel smile, watching from a nearby tree, twirling Michael's sword hilt idly in his hand. "Don't draw this out, Michael."
Michael glanced Dante's way contemptuously and sheathed his weapon.
Michael lunged for Dean who sucked in his stomach, swayed his body from side to side to avoid a deadly swipe that Michael aimed for. He was fast, much faster than Dean was. Dean was barely managing to dodge these. If any of them actually landed, he would have been cut in two pieces. Just like with Dante, he was barely holding his ground and not going for any offence. Michael locked him against the base of a tree.
Eventually Michael caught him around his previously injured shoulder in a vice-like grip. It wasn't as painful as it would have been. Castiel had mended the bone and reformed the tissue and bloodflow. But the ghost of the pain was there as Michael's palm pressed in and his fingers dug four holes into Dean's jacket, piercing skin.
Dean cried out from it just as Michael pulled him forward and raised his knee up into Dean's gut where Dean felt his entire ribcage shatter. Michael's fist connected with Dean's jaw and Dean almost flew out of his grip except that Michael's hand was still clenched around his shoulder as he brought his fist back for another punch.
"Michael," Dean managed to say through a steady swollen tongue and impacted back teeth that he spat out with a wad of saliva and blood. "Michael...Don't do this."
Just as Dean began to rock in his grip, Michael moved to grip Dean's throat. A little squeeze and Dean might have passed out. A big squeeze and he'd probably lose his head.
Michael's eyes were fierce and narrowed. His teeth were bared and Dean watched as his aura shone with golden light. It was Castiel's blade that he brought out of its sheath. This close, Dean could see the intricate design of black and silver lightning etched on the blade. It moved, steady with Michael's breathing, making the lightning flash.
"Don't let him kill me, Michael. Don't you let him kill me," said Dean steadily, reaching up, weakly grasping Michael's wrist as he raised the sword to Dean's throat.
Michael's hold on Dean's throat shook just a little.
"Look at this...You're a pitiful sight, Dean. Truly," Dante came up behind Michael now, looking over his shoulder. He tossed Michael's hilt up a foot and caught it again. "Sniveling like a fool. I never thought I'd see you fall like this. Come on. Get up. Die proud. Like your father before you. Like Lucifer. Like Gabriel. Show me that little...arrogant smile. Gabriel would have wanted you to die with your pride underneath you."
Dean froze in Michael's grip and his eyes steadily slid from Michael to Dante. "...What did you say?"
Dante's eyebrows rose. "Oh wow. You didn't know, did you?" He flicked his gaze to Carmen. "All this time and you failed to share that detail, did you?"
"You're a bastard, Dante," Carmen growled. Her eyes fell on Dean and she met his eyes with an apology ready. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. There hasn't been enough time...and the block you have between us...I...I didn't know how to say it."
Dean blinked away from her, his eyes burning. Something flashed at the forefront of his mind. Gabriel kneeling beside him in front of a piano inside a treehouse that he reinforced with power to support the large instrument. He remembered sitting in front of it, playing an off-key melody while Gabriel comically covered his ears, pretending like Dean was making a heap of noise.
"Am I that bad?" Dean had asked, high pitched and small sounding in his ears.
"Not enough to make me plug in my ears," Gabriel assured him. He wrapped a strong arm around Dean's shoulder and pulled him close to his side. "You'll get the hang of it, Dean. It's a beautiful thing to know inside and out, the piano."
"You really think I'll get that good?"
"I know you will," Gabriel pressed his lips to Dean's temple. "You'll play a beautiful melody and the world will be in awe of you. You'll bring them down to their knees."
Dean closed his eyes, unconsciously letting his head hang. Long ago. Gabriel had taken care of Dean for a certain amount of time every year of his life, taken him to the mortal realm. When Lucifer "killed" him and turned him into a demon, Dean lost his memories of Gabriel. It wasn't until the Scripture was torn apart that his memory returned. But even then...For his protection, for ...reasons that seemed pointless now, Dean lied to him.
Gabriel came to Dean when Lucifer rose, gave him the spell to open the Dimensional Door into Treachery and keep Lucifer there...and he told him the price at great cost to himself, that Dean would have to go down with Lucifer. Even then, Dean remained obstinate. He lied again. Pretended not to remember his Uncle and all of their time.
And he was dead. One of the few beings that Dean had ever met that he loved.
His jaw locked and he pressed his palm over his mouth, still sore from Michael's punch.
Something burned inside Dean. He had felt it before. Felt it burn inside of him when Lucifer was killed by Raphael. It was not his own grief that made Dean destroy the angels that had gathered. It was the weight of Lucifer's grief as his power, his thoughts passed onto him. There was nothing greater than the bond between a creator and it's child. And Lucifer did not only give Dean power when he passed on. Plain and simple, he made him feel what he had felt...what billions of years of imprisonment in Hell had done...what betrayal and loss felt like. He made Dean feel it all..culminating in waves of despair that touched every nerve in his body.
He felt that now...Except it was not Lucifer's pain he felt. It was not an echo of something from a dead creator.
This came from himself.
Dean ignored Michael, snapped his fingers as a tiny stream of fire shot from Dean's fingers and hit Dante's hand just as the twirling hilt came back down to his palm, knocking it off it's trajectory into the grass where it gleamed faintly. In a span of a few seconds, Dante looked towards the direction of the hilt, Michael did too...but Dean's eyes were on Dante and Dante only.
He launched himself on Dante, crashing him to the ground painfully with Dean on top. Dean's eyes were burning with a fiery gold surrounding green pupils. Dean plunged his sword in the dirt above Dante's head. His fist came down and slammed against Dante's face. Multiple times. His voice came out in a feral snarl."I'LL DESTROY YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I WILL DESTROY YOU."
And maybe it was just because he had literally given into a bestial instinct, but Carmen felt like something snapped inside her mind. She was flooded with Dean's anger, his rage and desire for revenge. She grabbed her head, fisted her hand in her hair and took handfuls to the point of nearly ripping her strands out. His pain was raw and primal. She had never felt this side of Dean before but she knew it was there, just waiting to come out.
The memories she saw were agony in themselves. Each flash she got was like looking at a picture frame with a glass image shattering. It was not just the death of Gabriel she felt reflected a thousand times over in her mind. It was everything. She felt Dean everywhere. His pain was like daggers stabbing into her body.
She saw the blood coming down the walls of a solitary room where an infant cried for its mother. Sensing perhaps in his tiny mind that he would never see her again. She saw a teenager being thrown into an arena full of jeering people in ragged, torn and bloodied clothing, watching as he faced off against a number of creatures to be beaten down again and again and again. She watched the amusement reflect upon the face of a "father" from the stands in Hell as his son was mutilated, broken. Shaped into the Prince he wanted.
She saw a demon, grown, with a black soul sitting upon a throne with a faint tracery of red upon his face where skin was beginning to break off. A king with a crown upon his dome and a black hilted sword in his hand. She saw him break under the hold of an Archangel as his heart was restored, some of the dark taint leaving him.
She saw Dean walk the halls of a cave, towards a single room where a glass display kept the Scripture locked inside. The image changed, shattered, and became something else. Castiel. Still an angel...silver armor, white wings. There was a shining green aura around both of them. He was holding onto Dean's hand and kneeling. His eyes were shining as though he were in tears.
"Wait...Wait...Dean...Your name...I know you. I remember. I see our...memories...I know you...How could I not? Dean...Dean," Castiel was whispering.
Dean didn't verbally respond. Knelt down in front of him and cupped his cheek. But Castiel's face unexpectedly changed, twisted into pain as he held his head, much like Carmen had been doing.
She caught a flash, but this was not the same as the ones she had been seeing. She could still see Castiel. Except she saw what he was seeing. It became clearer when she saw it again. Two bodies, lying next to one another their own pools of blood under them. Fingers were inches away as though they had tried...fruitlessly to reach for each other before they...
Dean. Castiel.
And a figure dressed in black standing before them. She never caught his face. Only the tip of the sword that the figure clutched, dripping blood.
"No...No...I don't want to see...I don't want to see this...Please...I can't...I...can't...look at this...Please...," Castiel was begging. "Make it stop. Please...I don't want...to...see."
Castiel drew his head up, locked eyes with Dean, tears streaming down his face. "Please...Please...Make the pain stop...Please...I don't want to see...I don't want to see this...Make it stop..."
"Shhh...," Dean placed a finger over his lips. "It's all right. It's okay, angel. I'm going to make the pain go away. I'm going to make it stop...I promise."
Castiel was trembling. The tears wouldn't stop. Whatever he had seen. Whatever happened between them...Dean was shaken too...but he kept his composure, only his expression seemed to reflect a certain sadness.
Dean cupped his cheek, brought all the green light enveloping Castiel out and took it within himself. Castiel blinked, slow, and swayed in Dean's grip before collapsing, unconscious. He could have been sleeping. Dean stood up, then. Turned and walked as the memory vanished.
She could feel the pain scream at her, wash over her skin like acid. That was it. The memory he stole and suppressed inside of him to the day. The memory that haunted him, shattered him to the core.
Her eyes slowly began to adjust as she faced the present again. She was crying, unconsciously so, sobbing and rocking back and forth. There was a face in front of her, creased with worry. Dean?
"You...poor...poor man...I...can feel...your suffering," Carmen whispered, clutching herself tightly.
It was Michael. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "It's all right, Carmen."
"Michael...," Carmen began. But then her eyes widened over Michael's shoulder at Dean and Dante.
Dante reached up midst the beating. His hand clamped down on Dean's arm. A fission of black power went through Dean, touching his eyes very briefly, making them swim with shining obsidian. His clenched fist stopped, hovered in the air but did not make contact.
"Yes...That's it...Without Memory...Without Law...Without everything that makes you King...What are you?" Dante managed to say in a single raspy breath. He raised his head a few inches. "Mortal...Now you know... what it feels... like to be completely powerless...just as you made me so... when you banished me... here."
Dante was still able to get one breathy laugh out, wheezing as he did so. It quickly turned into cough as he turned on his side under Dean as he stood up and coughed out spurts of blood. Dante flattened thereafter, unmoving.
Michael stood up. His arms closed around Dean from behind. Dean's face could wring tears from a stone. He collapsed against Michael as the Archangel held him. It was like a contorted image of a malevolent demon being comforted by his benevolent side.
"Let it go, Dean," Michael whispered. "Let it go."
"It hurts...It hurts so much," said Dean, leaning forward. His own hand covered Michael's. "My head...The voices...All the voices...I can hear them."
And yet Carmen felt her own despair ebb away as she focused on Dean. The connection between them was waning. But not like when he had a mental barrier blocking her from seeing into his head or feel what he felt...Now she felt as if it was simply fading away...as if their link was dying forever.
"What's happening? What's happening to him?!" Carmen asked while he started to go limp in Michael's arms and the Archangel turned him around to look at his face while Dean struggled to remain standing, clasping onto Michael's elbows.
"Memory. Shadowalker turned him mortal...A human mind cannot cope with Dominion's Memory and his own," said Michael, brushing his palm over Dean's forehead. Carmen didn't know what he meant by that. But it was what he said next that froze her. "He's dying."
"Dying...What?! No! Michael, do something! Save him! You're an Archangel! You're the Archangel! Please, Michael. I don't care if he's human. Save him, please. Please," She pleaded.
Michael did not answer her. He looked down at Dean, bright eyes passing over his face. "My only son...tainted by Lucifer. Taken from me. My greatest regret was never seeing him again as a Father...only as a General."
"Michael...Save him...," She started to reach him, even though her legs which were still throbbing with pain screamed in protest. She reached a hand until she caught a handful of his cape from the ground. "Please, I'm begging you. I can't...I can't lose him again. I need him. He's all I have."
"I know, Carmen...He's all I have too," said Michael softly. "But there is a way."
"Please. Do it. Do whatever you have to,"
"Give me my sword, Carmen," said Michael, freeing his hand and holding it out.
She let Michael go, looked around wildly and spotted the sword to the right of them. Completely ignoring Dante still sprawled and covering a bloody mass of a face, Carmen willed her legs and started to crawl towards it, grasping the hilt tight. It felt heavy for an item that had lost most of it. The sword seemed to shake as she held it, trembling with unseen power. She edged back to Michael, holding out the sword which he grasped. To her astonishment, the blade began to reform in Michael's grip. The longest sword she had ever seen, with a golden blade and a jeweled hilt.
"This is my chance...My chance to make it right...To set it all right," said Michael. His eyes flew up. The power surged inside of him and a golden light shot out of Michael's form towards the crackling realm until it became a circle of white, revealing more white clouds and blue sky inside it.
Michael removed Castiel's sword from his sheath and tossed it aside, replacing it with his own on his waist. He lifted Dean with both arms. Dean's eyes swiveled to look at him, vision blurring and blurring...
Castiel's predicament was large, but he could not, would not wait long. He eyed the closed trench with fury. He should have known this would happen. In his time knowing Dean, he had broken his arm, broken his leg too in the past to prevent himself from being followed. Selfish demon. Maybe the idea was to keep Castiel from danger.
Maybe the idea was to infuriate him. The latter worked like a charm every time.
"Focus."
It was not the boy as Castiel might have expected. It was his own voice in the back of his head. He had never heard his voice sound so forceful, impressing upon his mind like a foreign presence. He touched his temple lightly with two fingers and felt something throb.
"Focus your anger...See as I see. Retribution."
The last word was a mere whisper. Castiel closed his eyes and felt it inside of him, coiled like a snake waiting to strike. The power that the Scripture gave him. He could feel it.
When Castiel next opened his eyes, everything was outlined in a haze of red, like blood had coated his vision. He looked at his own hands, saw red lights where skin was exposed. He didn't know quite what he looked like on the outside, and he didn't quite care.
Castiel balled his fists. Lightning crackled around his knuckles as he struck the ceiling of the trench. The lightning surrounded him in a circle, dancing in a forbidden circle before enveloping his form and shooting the middle of the ceiling, burning a hole through it. Branch and leaves started to peek inside that Castiel snarled at. Demon went all out to contain him.
But not for long.
He extended his hands, dismissively brushing aside the fallen trees that reinforced his cage and rose from the trench, black wings fully extended. The red coat around his vision did not leave. He looked around him, elevated himself higher and higher until he saw the gathering in the camp ahead of him, forms blinking like beacons calling to him.
Castiel took off towards it at the speed of light. It was in no time that he found himself above the camp, and below the Divine Circle that had fully opened above him. The earthborn sky shined upon him with tempting light...yet Castiel did not heed it. Instead he lowered himself right in front of the gathering.
Michael. Dean. Dante. Carmen. Balthazar. Dante looked dead. Balthazar looked unconscious.
And Michael was holding Dean. Castiel touched down on the grass and walked towards them.
"Michael," said Castiel. His voice came out surprisingly cold. Barely above a growl.
"Castiel," Michael regarded him with a wary look.
"Castiel?" Carmen looked Castiel's way as if seeing him for the first time. She craned around Michael. "Oh...crap."
"The years have not treated you well, have they?" Castiel mocked, ignoring Carmen. He stopped just next to Balthazar, kneeling down and feeling his neck where he felt a very sharp pulse. Too fast...too...reminiscent of human.
"Nor have they you," Michael countered.
Castiel ignored his snipe, standing up and starting to approach. Michael took a step back which made Castiel pause. His eyes fell on Dean in his arms, weak and faint. Castiel blinked and saw the red lights he saw with everyone else vibrant as ever...but not with Dean. He realized now that these lights were life itself. Even demons had it...And Dean's...
Dean's was but a spark.
He disregarded Michael. Disregarded Carmen watching them to touch the demon's face, running his finger down Dean's cheek. No heat...He felt...temperate. Castiel, who ran a temperature usually considered freezing to demons found Dean to feel only slightly warm.
At his touch, Dean's opened just a tiny bit, focused on Castiel with eyes that were always too bright for a demon or a human.
"You...I can...see you...I...see..you."
And then his hand fell, and the spark left.
"No...," Castiel murmured softly. "No...No...No Dean...Come on...Open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me...I'm here." He started to move to take him from Michael. His hands already extended towards him.
"It's all right, you two," said Michael, taking a step back, out of Castiel's reach. "I can fix this...I can make this right."
Without much preamble, Carmen grabbed a hold of Castiel's pant leg and tried to climb him. Differences aside, she could give a damn right about now about the past. Not with Dean's life on the line. She pulled herself to her feet on his support and his arm wrapped around her automatically. Looking at Dean's face from this level, she could see what made Castiel go white as sheet.
Michael's feet left the ground, his wings fully extended, gently swaying as he gained a foot in elevation.
"What are you doing, Michael," Castiel asked flatly, watching him. He tried to take flight himself, but as his own wings unfurled, there was a static shock that he felt against them, singing off a few feathers. Something vibrated in the air and then snapped back into place.
"Magic Barrier,' said Carmen as though the two words strung together made a curse word.
"I'm taking him home. I'm sorry, Castiel...Carmen...There's not a place for you two in his life anymore," said Michael, looking down at Dean's face. "My son did not deserve the life Lucifer gave him. I did...but this is my chance to make it right. To make it all...right. There is a bit of life left in him. Enough that I can sustain...make new memories...with me."
"Michael, he'll be killed within seconds of reentering the mortal realm. He may not remember us, but we remember him just fine. The underworld has been vying for power since he died. They'll kill him first!" said Carmen incredulously.
"You cannot keep him from me," Castiel issued out in a snarl, taking another step forward and getting a full body sting, but careful not to let Carmen take any damage. If he tried to get any closer and with more force, they were going to be thrown back. He didn't care. "He's mine."
The faintest smile touched Michael's face. "You're strong, Castiel...Even as Retribution, you are almost completely unmatched...but you cannot defeat me. It's futile to try." His eyes shot towards the Divine Circle. " The Circle will close once the caster passes through it. And I intend to."
Castiel placed his hand over the barrier, felt the burning sensation tear his skin almost to the tissue. But his crimson gaze never left Michael. "There is no where you can go that I can't follow. I will come for him. I will always come back for Dean. And when I find you...You will be sorry. I promise you that."
Michael said nothing. His wings beat the air again and he took off, soaring towards the Circle. Castiel and Carmen watched him, watched as they became specks in a dark sky. The Circle shrunk as Michael grew closer, completely eclipsing his form until there was nothing. No light. No evidence that there had ever been a Divine Circle in Treachery.
Just the empty void that was Dean Winchester.
Castiel did not let himself grieve long. Dean was not dead. And he would not allow himself to believe that. Not for one moment. The finality of that train of thought was a weight on his shoulders that he could not afford to have at this moment. The spark he felt was something. It was enough. Michael was a selfish creature at best and he banished every memory he had in his mind of ever holding the General in respect. He was going to get Dean back. One way or another.
His gaze instead fell on Balthazar. Castiel set Carmen down to sit on the ground where she covered her face with both hands. He approached Balthazar slowly, gently prodded his former Commander in the chest with his boot. Balthazar stirred and turned himself over on his back where he looked up at Castiel.
"Remember when I said I didn't want to go alone?" Balthazar murmured, closing his eyes.
"Sorry," said Castiel. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm worth ten million bucks," said Balthazar, sighing out a harsh breath. "Is that the correct phrasing?"
"I don't know," said Castiel.
There was a short silence.
"My mind...is...a little disorientated. Am I...Is this death? Because my heaven looks like hell...and that doesn't seem right,"
"You're not dead, Balthazar...You're human," said Castiel and he glanced to the side where Dante lay. "Dante cast the mortality spell on you...as well as Dean and possibly Sam...I don't know..."
"Where's are they? Where's Dean? I thought he was with you?"
"He's gone," said Castiel quietly. Not dead. Not dead. He mentally chided himself.
Balthazar looked at him for a long minute. " Hmm...I'm sorry, Castiel."
It was to his credit. Balthazar didn't like Dean and Castiel knew it. But he wasn't going to shove that in his face. Or say something condescending like 'Good riddance.' Maybe he knew that Castiel would not respond kindly. Castiel bent down to examine Balthazar fully. Like Dean, the former angel felt temperate to him.
"Hang in there, Balthazar," said Castiel, tapping Balthazar's cheek. Castiel lifted him up and hoisted Balthazar's arm around his neck so that he leaned on him for support. He started to carry him, slightly limping due to the extra weight. His eyes fell on Carmen who dropped her hands from her face.
"Why did-?" She broke off. Her hands looked foreign to her. As Castiel stared at her, her body took on a fiery glow as black armor began to align itself on her body. The sword that had been plunged into the ground where Dean had left it reappeared on her back, lit with familiar sigils running around the blade. And for the first time, something ghosted around her forehead. Another weight. Heavy and large, but still, a perfect fit.
She didn't feel weak anymore. She expected the armor to be so heavy on her that she would sink...but she actually felt energized. She stood up fully. Her eyes going over her hands. Carmen knew what this was...but she didn't want to say it. She didn't want to acknowledge that this was happening.
Lucky for her, Castiel never failed to speak what everyone was thinking or already knew. "The Crown chose you."
"Because the previous leader is d-" Balthazar began.
"No," said Castiel sharply. "That's not why. He's not dead. He's... mortal. There's a difference. A human cannot possibly hold the weight of the crown...so it's passed on to you."
"Dean's human?" Balthazar asked. "How long was I out?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but Castiel was already gone. He approached the last one here...like Dean, there was a flicker of life left in Dante. He wasn't gentle as he turned him over with a show of power, shocking him briefly with a lightning spell until he was on his back.
Dante had been mutilated, that was for sure. Dean had hit him hard and several times. But all the signs of that were almost completely gone, save for blood stains on his cheeks and chin. Castiel looked upon him with revulsion but he saw his swollen eyes begin to shrink and the slits open to focus on Castiel.
"Retribution," said Dante as though he was greeting his first born son.
"Havoc," Castiel answered.
"So you've embraced it," said Dante approvingly. "I'm proud, Retribution...I am."
He started to stand with great struggle and Castiel heard a sick crunch that sounded remarkably like a spine being snapped back in place. His eyes fell on Carmen who joined Castiel's side, her hand darting for Dean's sword on her back. But Castiel caught her wrist.
"Here's how it works, Dante. I know you know the way out of here...You're going to assist us," said Castiel matter-of-factly.
"And if I refuse?" Dante asked, looking at the three of them. "What incentive is there? In case you haven't noticed. I'm pretty satisfied with that...finale. I think everyone got what they deserved. Pure-hearted Sammy is back home...Michael's got his white picket fence...and Dean...is...hahaha...Nothing. But a man with none of the luxury he had handed to him since birth."
"How the hell did Dean's life come off as luxurious to you?" Carmen answered.
"If you don't help us, Dante, I will kill you," said Castiel, narrowing his eyes.
"No you won't," said Dante in a bored voice, pretending to check his imaginary watch. "You don't have it in you. Not yet."
"Would you like to test that?" Castiel challenged.
"Castiel, he's our only avenue," Balthazar reminded him. "He's our only way out of here."
"Really? We're counting on him? You know he killed Gabriel. He killed Merrick and Lilith...Hell, if you have to be technical, he even killed John. Michael. Whatever," Carmen looked at the other two imploringly. "I saw we kill him. You can read his mind on how to get out of here before you do. I'll watch."
"Carmen. We don't have a choice. I'm...human," said Balthazar slowly, as if just realizing the fact. He tried to pull from Castiel who held fast with a reproving look.
"I can't read his mind," said Castiel, annoyed. "He's got a strong psychic block up. But you're outnumbered, Shadowalker. Carmen has all the power Dean once had. And I'm still Retribution. So you're at a standstill."
"Two Fallen. A demon and a human...Great," said Carmen sarcastically.
"Sounds like fun," said Dante unenthusiastically.
"Sounds like a setup to a lame ass sitcom," Carmen remarked.
"How about this," Dante interlocked cracked and bloody fingers, took a walk around the three of them. "I'll help you three get out of here...On one condition."
"No conditions. Help us or die," said Castiel.
"If I don't help you. You're stuck here. So about that condition," Dante eyed them all. "I lead you out of Treachery...You all owe me a favor. Individually, of course."
"No deal. His favor could be fucked up. Like I don't know say, 'I'll let you out, but please go on and assassinate Dean for me.'," said Carmen.
"Like I would need any of your services to achieve that," Dante growled. "You're all completely useless to me. An lovelorn Fallen. A broken human and a throneless Queen. I say between the three of you, I'm better off asking a tree to kill Dean for me."
"Castiel. Wait just a second..Think about this...It's dangerous to make a deal with a Fallen," said Balthazar, watching his expression.
"What's the favor, Dante?" Castiel asked in an annoyed tone. If he could cross his arms, he probably would.
"I don't know just yet," Infuriating Fallen. Dante tapped his chin. "Let's just say...I'll collect on it."
"No," said Carmen flatly.
"Fine," Castiel said, louder than her.
"Castiel!" Balthazar and Carmen said at the same time.
Dante held out his hand for Castiel to shake. Castiel stared at it for a long time. His only option. His only chance of seeing Dean again weighed down on him. It was a hard decision...especially considering he didn't know what Michael was planning on doing by 'making it right.' What that entailed...but he resolved to find out. No matter what the cost.
Dante's eyes gleamed through the blood cracked on his face. When Castiel shook his hand, he gripped it tight and pulled the Fallen close to him. "I warn you, Castiel. You double-cross me...Any of you...double-cross me...If I suspect any kind of misgivings behind my back...I can promise each of you an eternity of misery."
"Whatever," said Castiel, releasing his hand and wiping it on his shirt. "Just get to work."
"This spell will take time...So why don't you all just sit tight while I work my magic," said Dante, flashing the three of them a dazzling smile.