It was another day in the rough grind of school for Jessica Moore. She was nearly there though, nearly graduating. Maybe she should have been scared, or maybe she should have been hopeful.
Kind of funny that all she felt, when faced with the prospect of leaving school was despair.
It was the start of Winter Break. Last year, she spent it alone...For all the wrong reasons.
One year, and her friends were getting tired of hearing it. Getting tired of her mopey attitude, but what could you say when the man you loved was dead? What could you say when just thinking about him...still hurt?
They never found Sam's body. They found a destroyed home with traces of blood confirming his parent's blood and then his own. A great deal of Sam's blood had been spilled...but again, no body. For a long time, Jess simply refused to believe that he had died...but what could she say? Sam would never have left her willingly. What was his reasoning?
The last time they spoke, he was perfectly fine. Tired maybe...talking about a nightmare. He sounded tired...but somebody had murdered him. And for what, she couldn't fathom.
It was such a painful subject matter to think about. Sam Costigan was the sweetest person she had ever known.
Jess tuned out the loud babblings of her best friend, Lisa as she walked beside her talking about classwork or boys, who knew. There was a social coming up before the break started and that's all anyone wanted to talk about. Jess just wanted to go home...and probably curl up and try not to think too much.
Her next class was history...and that was unfortunate because it provided too much time for her to put her chin on her hand and stare out the window. Most people took that opportunity to sleep through the lecture...but Jess never slept in the day...well, she never got much sleep at night either.
She stopped at her locker. Lisa leaned against her other side, the locker door to her. Jess proceeded to absently pull out her history text book from underneath a big pile but something slipped out and fluttered towards the ground as light as a feather. Jess caught a glimpse of a colorful card before she plucked it off the ground.
It was indeed a greeting card. All that she saw on the front was a yellow background "Greetings from" in red cursive, then in big block letters "Chicago" with a picture of the downtown city at night within each block. Jess stared at the card in wonder.
"What is that?" Lisa asked, distracted from her constant babble. "Ooh, you got a secret admirer? Little early for Valentine's Day, isn't it?"
Jess turned it over and her heart nearly stopped. She had never been a fainter. She used to laugh at that sort of thing on TV. But the name that she saw written in moderately large cursive letters in the corner of the card made her stomach do a few backflips. She felt sick. This had to be some kind of stupid joke, didn't it?
But there was nothing else. No address. Just the name.
Sam's name.
It was clearly a girl's script. She remembered him hating to write in cursive during middle school when they were forced to for English from time to time. It was no wonder that his attempts at writing in cursive came out sloppy and uncoordinated.
This had no such imperfections. This script was perfect, flawless, even as it arched in the middle as though it was written in a rush. Whoever was doing this was cruel...or a saint. Because this was clearly a clue, a sign that Sam was in Chicago.
Dead or alive. What, was he buried there? How come he was in Chicago? Did he meet someone else? That didn't sound like him. Was he going to school in Chicago now?
"I have to...I have to go," said Jess. The sick feeling she had, had not yet died down. She wanted to throw up, but lucky for her, her stomach was already empty. Lisa was looking at her with concern and Jess caught a glimpse of her shocked face just before Jess darted down the hall towards the exit door, catching the gazes of her classmates as they stared at her in wonder.
But she body-slammed the double doors and staggered outside where she nearly collapsed into a nearby bench. The two students already seated there, glimpsed her face and immediately took off, throwing wary looks her way. Lisa came by a moment later, looked around for Jess before she found her and took a seat next to her.
Far away from Jess's sight was someone else.
Carmen had placed herself at the entrance of an exterior sewer tunnel that overlooked the school up a high wall. If Jessica looked up, she would scarcely glimpse Carmen except as a black dot perhaps. And yet Carmen could see her perfectly from here. Her arms were crossed as she gauged the reaction below to receiving that lovely postcard.
Beside her was someone else...and no judgments on that. Dante. She had him chained to her own wrist with a long, ten foot link that had him sprawled pathetically behind her.
Once Castiel had left, Carmen insisted on leaving as well to return to the mortal realm. Of course she was reprimanded immediately and advised against it. There were people who were going to great lengths to have her assassinated for various reasons. In the name of Lucifer, in the name of Dean, just because they wanted a revolution...or what have you.
Not that she really cared. This was important.
"Tell me something," Dante drawled behind her. Carmen pinched the bridge of her nose and requested patience for dealing with him. She didn't want to bring him along, but she couldn't leave him behind with a few guards that he could easily overpower given the chance. Yes, so Castiel said, he was pretty powerless, but she didn't want to take the chance.
"I don't have the desire nor inclination to indulge you," said Carmen. That sounded formal and polite even though her voice was quite venomous. "So if you please...Just shut your mouth while around me."
Dante ignored her, of course. "How come you're insisting on aiding this? This cause...This romance, you're risking everything to put back together, it's pointless. It's something you can never have, so what is your incentive here?"
Carmen's eyes tightened and she very much debated slapping him. It was only a tiny sliver of fear that stopped her. Powerless as he might have been, that could easily be changed with a few words. What those words were, she didn't know and she probably wouldn't say them in normal conversation by accident, but still.
"Sam needs her," said Carmen simply. "You can't slap Dean and...Michael on him, change his memories and say it's an apple pie life. It's not right. Dean and Michael are not what he needs. Not what he wants...It's her. It's always been her."
Dante was silent for a long time. She actually may have expected no further argument from him, but then he shifted slightly from his pitiful perch with a grunt. "So you're opting to send her on her merry way to a man who has no recollection of her existence and more then likely will never remember their lives? Do you realize...the insanity of that situation? Your favorite crush is being manipulated by Dominion's Memory right now...and so is Dean. That spell is stable...for now. Something like this could tip the balance out of favor."
"What, like get their memory back? I don't care," said Carmen simply. "I really don't. In fact...I'd rather get Dean back then see him in this human state. This isn't him. Castiel's head over heels in love with the idea of the human, that he's forgetting the demon. My maker. My maker was a demon, not a human."
"Your maker was a horrible demon," said Dante.
Carmen threw him a scathing look. "I suppose your opinion would seem like it matters to me."
"No, it's the truth. He was a tyrant. And everyone around him knew it," said Dante. "The world is better off without him in his demonic form."
"Shut up," Carmen snapped. "This is your fault, you know. You turned him mortal. If you hadn't done that-"
"If I hadn't done that, this world would burn," Dante cut in. "And you may not think so, but I did you a great service."
"I'll never believe that," said Carmen, turning her head back down to Jess where she watched the two women talk. Jessica was explaining something. It looked like she was explaining the situation to the black-haired girl in full. What Sam meant to her, what this meant to her to receive some kind of clue as to where he was. It was kind of sad to watch. To watch Jess's face pale but seem to beat with life and hope. She didn't want to believe Sam was alive and away from her on purpose, she didn't want to see that. But her love for him by itself, her desire to simply look upon him was enough to spur her into action.
And that's exactly what Carmen wanted.
She was done here. She turned to Dante and yanked her wrist towards herself which pulled Dante roughly to his feet where he instantly staggered into her and collapsed against her abdomen where she caught him and steadied him by the shoulders. He stayed against her stomach though, his ear pressed against her body.
"Mm...You smell delicious," Dante murmured.
"Get off me," Carmen snapped.
Dante laughed, and surprisingly let go of her and backed away. Looking at him in this pathetic state, Carmen felt a slight sting of pity. He was beautiful...Like most angels and fallen. Even more so then Castiel. There was a certain darkness inside of him that was hard to ignore. It had it's own allure. Castiel brimmed sometimes with the light of old, with the old ideals. Maybe by classification , he was a Fallen...but his heart was a celestial.
He had nothing on Dante. Nothing on Dean even. But of course, that wasn't suggesting that she had a crush on her maker.
"You're a piece of work, Carmen Matthews. I can see why Dean would opt to change you...Even though he adamantly says it was a mistake and you believe it," said Dante coolly.
"It was a mistake. He killed me on the road to sustain himself," said Carmen and then she blew out a gust of heated air. "You know what? Why am I explaining my situation to you? I don't answer to you. And I don't want to talk to you anymore."
"You could be a great Queen, your Majesty...Not just because of the genes you carry with you. Your heart is almost completely pure save for a few misgivings in the past that you express regret over. All you would really need is a good King by your side to help you," said Dante, stepping closer to her.
"And I suppose I know what candidate you would elect for that," said Carmen, narrowing her eyes shrewdly.
"We're beings of forever, Carmen Matthews. You should keep that in mind. We will not age, not succumb to disease or die of natural causes. We'll live forever unless something purposely destroys us or the world ends...You should better spend your time with someone you can actually be with, rather than pining for someone who will never love you back,"
Carmen visibly shook at his words. That last sentence made her tremble, but not out of anger or rage. It was simply the truth that she knew all too well, but didn't completely face when facing her thoughts in reflection. She would push it aside in her mind and try not to think about it.
"Even if you're right. It doesn't matter. It wouldn't be you, Shadowalker. It would never be you," said Carmen venomously.
"Be still my heart," said Dante, pressing a hand to his chest and cackling loudly. Carmen ground her teeth together to keep from drawing out a sword and killing him right there and then.
Carmen thought of something else. She really couldn't speak freely with Castiel there. But she reflected on Dante's conversation with Castiel about the premonition the two of them shared.
"You saw Dean die, didn't you?" Carmen whispered. "Tell me...were you lying to him? Is it coming? Is he going to die?"
Dante's amused expression fell somewhat. "Hmm. Yes. These things generally come true."
"Then how can it be stopped? There has to be a way. Can't we bring him here and...save him?"
"Time is a magic that is almost impossible to breach. It is constantly flowing, unyielding and true. Even Archangels aren't able to manipulate time and events from the past, present or future to alter. It's forbidden to even try to delve into it by all celestial laws...You can't save him. Every action, every thought...will bring us all into that inevitability, one way or another," Dante explained. "But then again, as you know...There are beings out there with great power. Power that could go over Time."
"Like you?" Carmen sensed the direction of this conversation.
"I'm a fragment, Your Majesty. A fragment of something greater. And that great power...You can't even fathom Dominion. Dominion would be a God. Fitting, no? Considering the actual Almighty has abandoned us," said Dante spitefully. "But if I could become Dominion...If I could harness that power unto myself...You can't even imagine what I could do."
"Doesn't becoming Dominion mean killing Castiel and Dean anyway? How is that remotely a solution? You are the worst problem-solver that I have ever met," Carmen snapped. "We're going back to Pride. I'm through chatting around with an idiot...Let's go."
She snapped her fingers once, and the two of them vanished on the spot.
Dean left not to long after Castiel swore his life debt to him. He was still agitated. Twice, during breakfast, he opened his mouth to speak and closed it as though he was trying to avoid an argument. Castiel pretended he didn't see it. He didn't want to dwell too much on what had happened. For the most part, he didn't regret it.
When Dean left, Castiel kissed him goodbye and watched the other man leaving, slipping on shoes and jacket, the last of his garments before he disappeared behind the elevator doors. Not five minutes later, Balthazar reappeared, again, looking like he hadn't slept all night, and had been thoroughly intoxicated for most of it.
"Balthazar," Castiel said in a rather bitter voice.
"Don't start," Balthazar's voice was slightly slurred. "You don't understand. And you never will...so don't start on me."
"You look terrible," Castiel commented, coming close to his former commander at the door and taking his shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Balthazar didn't shake him off. Either he wasn't completely aware of it, or he didn't care.
"What else is there to do?" Balthazar smiled. But he eyed Castiel carefully. "The demon was here, wasn't he? I can smell him."
"He's not a demon any more...but yes, Dean was here," said Castiel shortly. "He spent the night...We were attacked. By another Tarana Demon."
Under normal circumstances, his Commander would be all stance and attention. He would immediately demand every detail, every single one. And he would want to go out for an infiltration or something. But Balthazar just made a beeline for the fridge and opened it up to pull out some more booze for himself.
Castiel wrenched it out of his hand. "Enough. You've had enough already."
"Mm," Balthazar gave him a watery eyed, glazed sort of look. "What's wrong?"
"What?"
"I said...what's wrong. You're troubled. Did the Tarana Demon get the best of you?" That seemed to amuse Balthazar greatly as he managed to slink over to a seat at the dining table and slip down in it.
"He hurt Dean," Castiel remarked, as if that was enough information.
"Did you kill it?"
"It got away," said Castiel through his teeth. "But I know what they want now...I had...I had some kind of premonition."
"Did you...Must be swell," said Balthazar.
"I visited Dante,"
That name was enough. Balthazar had been staring at something on the table, and then his gaze went up on Castiel. Still, it was not the alert or call for action that he usually saw. It was slight curiosity.
"How is Dante?" Balthazar asked sarcastically. "Has his body decayed yet?"
"He's not dead, Balthazar, you remember that...He's just...subdued. He can't harm anyone unless the lock spell on him is taken off, which it won't be," Castiel told him.
"That's so anti-climactic," Balthazar sighed and leaned back in his chair, rocking it off two legs and hitting the wall for support. "Here I was thinking you finally would grow a conscience and kill him."
"There's no point in harming an unarmed opponent," Castiel clarified.
"I taught you better than that," said Balthazar bitterly. "By the way...I haven't just been getting the human term...'trashed' these last few weeks. I've been keeping an ear out for you. Why, is beyond me. I'm hardly a help to you in any form of combat or power battle."
"Balthazar," said Castiel disapprovingly. "I don't expect you to help me fight. I can help take care of both of us. There is no point in brooding. I'll-"
"Anyway," Balthazar cut in pointedly. "I'm not holding it against you, Castiel. I'm simply telling you. There is movement out there. Something is stirring against the forces of nature. Something...ominous. Even in this...limited...form, I can feel it. The darkness...it seems to be spreading. I think even humans are feeling it. It's just like when Lucifer rose again and destroyed Manhattan. It's only growing stronger...and I fear...I fear that if it comes...it will destroy everything in it's path. Without conscious thought or fear of punishment. This...evil. I can feel it...almost inside of me."
"Whatever comes, we can handle it. We handled Shadowalker," Castiel reminded him.
"Is that what you call handling? We cut him a deal, Castiel. We owe him. Have you forgotten that?" Balthazar gave him a stony look. "That favor he said he would ask of us individually?"
"I don't think we'll have to be worrying about that anymore," said Castiel dismissively, leaning against a kitchen counter.
"That's your plan, is it? Simply brush aside every problem you encounter with the belief that you can handle it? Your track record is not so flawless as to warrant such arrogance," Balthazar growled. Before Castiel could answer, Balthazar spoke again, over him. "You said you found out something about what the Tarana Demon are wanting in the city. What is that? What was your premonition?"
"They're separate things...The premonition was...Perhaps just a dream," Castiel shut his eyes tight and flinched just a tiny bit at the memory that was still to vivid in his mind. "But the Tarana Demon...I know what Tarana is."
"What?"
"It's...It's Dean. It's one of the names he took on during his reign. Carmen told me, the demons in Hell know him as that...if not by his real name. It means Light Bringer. A name for Lucifer. For...Lucifer's...progeny," Castiel hesitated. "It's what he was. But it's not what he is now. "
"Hahaha," Balthazar chuckled. His laughter only grew, enough that he put his hand over his chest to calm himself after moment to keep hysteria at bay. "No, I'm sorry. That's just funny to me. So the Tarana Order are his loyal demons. They must want their king back. Who can blame them? He might make things a little more entertaining."
"He's not a demon anymore and he doesn't deserve to be condemned back into that lifestyle," Castiel snapped angrily.
"Oh please, Castiel. I led the ground troops into battle against him when we killed Lucifer the first time. The only being that killed so many was one, and he was quite proud of that record. This painting," Balthazar pointed at the painting that Castiel had procured of Tarana. Of course the picture looked nothing like Dean...just like mortal-made pictures of Lucifer and Michael were far from true likeness.
"Don't look at that," said Castiel irritably, feeling himself go slightly red.
"That's who he is. I'm sorry, Castiel. I am...But this is all a lie. That Michael built for selfish reasons,"
"No, he didn't ask for that. He had no cho-"
"No choice? You think any of us had a choice to be born what we are? To be created as celestials? Unfeeling, unthinking and under the thumb of rules and regulation. Our own Generals have turned against us, Castiel...Michael, Raphael, Gabriel. None of us made the choice to be what we are, but what we are is what we're stuck with. Michael's suppressed something very dangerous, very powerful. He suppressed a fragment of Dominion. Dante did the same damn thing to you, and just because he walks with the light of angels, doesn't make Michael the guy to side with."
"I'm not siding with Michael. But he's in agreement with me," said Castiel. "At least to a certain point. That we need to keep Dean and Sam safe. Away from the life of all hell before. It's over now, Balthazar. I don't care what grudges you hold against Dean for whatever reasons in the past. He's a different person now. He's innocent now...colder. Normal. He's not burning like he once was. I don't expect you to understand this. "
"Oh my God. This is a sales pitch, isn't it?" Balthazar looked at him in thorough disgust. "I don't give a damn who he is now."
"I swore a life debt to him," said Castiel with finality.
Balthazar stopped, opened his mouth then clamped it shut. Castiel saw a number of emotions pass over his face. Shock. Anger. Outrage. He was turning so red, that he was beginning to look purple.
"You did...You...did what?" Balthazar barely sputtered.
"I did. I swore my life to protect him. I'm obligated now...until he releases me,"
"Or you swear another one. Which you won't," Balthazar's neck was taut, his temples mobile from rage. "Because you don't care. Neither of you do. You care about nothing but each other. And it's the worst thing either of you could ever choose. Because all it will do will kill you both."
Now it was Castiel's turn to get angry. Those words reminded him too well of the vision and what Dante had said about him being the one to set that path into motion somehow. "That's not going to happen."
"You think so," said Balthazar sarcastically.
"I know so...Listen...Whatever you're sensing...It can wait...The Order of Tarana is an illusive bunch but I feel they won't be as big a problem as one may think. These demons were sired by Lucifer, by the bloodline, they want to raise Dean back into his demonic state. But if I want to, I can probably get Carmen to keep them off our back,"
"You need to stop fraternizing with demons," Balthazar rolled his eyes. "I mean...Carmen's decent enough. But bloodline. Come on. That's Dean's one and only demon. I don't think I can convince you, Castiel. You would have had to seen it first hand, I suppose."
"Yeah, I suppose I would have," Castiel agreed. "But I will never believe that Dean deserved to be a demon. Nor would I condone any action that says that he needs to be changed back."
"Ugh," Balthazar sighed. "You're so incredibly bias-"
He cut off when the door opened and both Castiel and Balthazar looked up to find Michael standing in the threshold. Castiel was relatively unsurprised, if a little annoyed that Michael hadn't even bothered to knock.
"Michael," said Balthazar.
"Balthazar," There was a brief flash of guilt in Michael's eyes, but it disappeared fast. Castiel knew well enough that he wouldn't allow himself to feel guilt for anyone long. Regardless of the weight of a human soul inside of him and the time he spent in the mortal realm, he still had a decent control on his emotion and a decent control on prioritizing.
"Oh, don't mind me, General. I'm just one of your former commanders turned mortal. Not really a big deal," said Balthazar.
"That wasn't my doing, that was Dante Shadowalker," said Michael as he stepped inside.
"You were right there!" Balthazar shouted, jumping to his feet. It was the most emotion that Castiel had seen in him in a long time. And that was after spending over a hundred years with him in Treachery after Michael and Dean disappeared. "You were right there, like a mindless puppet. Not even trying to fight. You could have stopped him. You could have saved me."
Michael's lips tightened. "I had no control of myself with him holding my sword."
"Hahaha," Castiel covered his mouth just as the two of them rounded on him. "I'm sorry. That wasn't funny."
"You think this is amusing? It's because of our General here that I'm in this state," said Balthazar tightly. "He was supposed to protect us. He swore an oath to protect his legion at the cost of his life. And this...this my friend, is how he treats them. You're no better then Raphael."
"Don't you compare me to him," Michael snapped, lunging in Balthazar's direction and grabbing a hold of his stained white t-shirt. Castiel imagined he could smell every ounce of alcohol on his breath. " Raphael was a heretic. He worked with Lucifer. That was unforgivable."
"No one asked you to create the future King of Hell with a human. If you hadn't done that, we all wouldn't be in this mess," Balthazar snarled.
Michael backed away, looking at Balthazar with a mixture of pity and annoyance. "You're a selfish being, Balthazar. This humanity you feel...It stings doesn't it? All these human feelings you can't control. You're hardly holding together. I'm sure without Castiel's Link, you'd fall into a coma. It's a terrible prospect isn't it? To depend on someone else? To depend on a Fallen of all beings. Especially one you cared about so much."
"Shut your mouth, Michael. I don't answer to you anymore. I don't need to show you any kind of respect after everything you've done," said Balthazar scathingly. "If I could kill you, I would."
"Direct your anger accordingly. I didn't turn you mortal. Shadowalker did. And you can have Castiel to thank if he's still alive," said Michael.
"I don't really care for either of your opinions, so this is all..moot," said Castiel, looking dead at Michael. "But as for you, Michael. You're here in the nick of time, aren't you? I was planning on finding you, sooner or later."
"I don't care for whatever you have to say," Michael answered coolly. "You were supposed to call me when Dean woke up...and you never did...but never mind that. I have more important news."
"Is it about Tarana? That terrible demon that so many celestials needed to take down?" Castiel crossed his arms and Balthazar joined him on giving Michael a full-blown glare of doom.
"What? Yeah? So? What are you two staring at?" Michael's gaze flicked from one to the other.
"Tarana is Dean, Michael. We know," said Balthazar. "Well...he found out. From Dante."
"From Dante," Michael repeated, glowering at Castiel. "I wouldn't trust in all of what the Shadowalker says."
"Good thing it wasn't Dante," Castiel narrowed his eyes at Balthazar, silently reprimanding him for his lack of attention earlier. "It was Carmen. She said Tarana was one of Dean's names. One of many. He earned that through the arena in Pride. So these demons that you're trying to fight...They're not here for some fictional beast. They want Dean back. This Order."
"Castiel-"
"You are a compulsive liar, Michael," Castiel interrupted. "You withhold information at your convenience. You think I want Dean as a demon? You think I wouldn't work with you to do everything to keep it from happening?"
Balthazar sighed very loudly. "And here we are, protecting the delicate flower that is Dean...Someone bring anything else to the table, please. If we're not trying to save his soul from certain disintegration in Treachery, we're protecting a weak human that is by no means the demon that either of you have met."
Both Castiel and Michael were looking at him, so Balthazar propelled his chair forward to stand on all four legs once again. "Order of Tarana. Ta-Ra-Na. Ra means light. If Dante is the Shadowalker, then Dean, in his original state, was meant to be Lightwalker. Whether that was because of being your son, Michael...or Lucifer's Prince...who knows. Light doesn't always mean good...but you know what I say? Let them come. Let them turn him back, or maim him as subjects sometimes tend to do to their leaders. Anything is better than this...constant crap. You two are so jaded and twisted and self-righteous, it disgusts me."
"I'm not self-righteous-"
"Michael was the one who had the curse first-"
"Castiel opened the gate to Treachery. This is actually all his faul-"
"If Michael hadn't gotten cursed, we wouldn't be in this posit-"
"Enough," said Balthazar sharply. "Blame game, blame game. I admit...I don't like you, Michael. I don't like your actions in Treachery. I like you less as a person, for how blatantly selfish you are. I don't think you've ever done anything for anyone other than yourself...and if you have, it's been a long time. Perhaps in the times when you still obeyed Heaven's command...and it was simply following orders."
"And you, Castiel. I can't even fathom what you wouldn't do for Dean. Go through nine circles. Nine circles of Hell for him. And to lose him again. I can't imagine that pain...but it doesn't change that the only thing in the world you truly care for is Dean. You lost your path too. You're not an Angel...and with compassion like that for someone else...You're on a rocky road. It scares me, that level of attachment you hold for him. That you would swear your life away...and-"
"You swore your life away?! You swore a Life Debt to Dean?!" Michael yelled, outraged.
Castiel's expression was surprisingly smug. "And? What of it?"
"You selfish creature," Michael snarled. "You are without a doubt the worst Fallen I have ever encountered. More foul than the Shadowalker himself."
"Wow, and here they go. Can I have my drink back?" Balthazar leaned back yet again in his seat.
"No, I didn't come here to argue," said Michael, even though he was clearly still fuming mad. "I came here to tell you of the Activation Site we found for the ritual that the Order of Tarana is creating. It's not as simple as different activation sites in the city. That I can fathom and hopefully stop before it happens...but they're not just here. It's all over. All over the country. This was just one of them."
"What does this Ritual do? These demons are here for Dean, that much is clear," Castiel mused. "What happens when all sites are active? The idea was to raise Tarana, right? That's Dean...so what, what'll happen to Dean?"
"I honestly don't know," said Michael. "But it has to be stopped. This ritual can't happen."
"You guys are stupid," Balthazar put in.
Castiel gave him a baleful look. "He's right. It can't. And I can stop it. Where's the next activation site?"
"I'm estimating that it's possibly Los Angeles. The activation sites, the focus sites are forming a...sigil...And Los Angeles is directly on point of one of the parts of the sigil. The sigil is-"
He broke off at a loud scraping noise while Balthazar began to draw something in the glass with his fingernail. He pulled his hand away and there it was. The long cross with an X through it.
"Law," said Balthazar, looking right at Castiel. "Surprised at you, Castiel. That you didn't recognize it immediately. This sigil means Law. It's a calling card, for all intents and purposes."
"I never wanted to read. I wanted to fight. So they know he's Law," said Castiel, looking at Michael. "This activation is as he says...a calling card?"
"Could be...Could be something worse. I don't know. But I intend to find out. I'm heading to California tonight," Michael stated.
"I'm coming with you," said Castiel at once. "I have to."
Balthazar was staring at him for a long time, deciphering. What he probably guessed was that Castiel was doing this because of the premonition he had been vague about. In truth, maybe that was part of it. He was doing what he could. What he had to do.
"I need someone here to protect Dean...and since you have that Life Debt to him," said Michael, eyes glinting in a menacingly disapproving way.
"It can extend beyond state lines. First sign of trouble, I'll go back. Besides. Balthazar is here. That's good enough.. But I have to help you do this. You might actually need me," said Castiel. "All your self-righteous baggage, as Balthazar says. You might need someone who's okay with breaking the rules a little bit."
"Yes. Balthazar is here. He's very capable as a drunk former angel in helping another helpless human," said Balthazar.
"I feel so comforted already," said Michael, equally sarcastic. "Then do what you need to and meet me at the train station near here tonight. We're leaving immediately."
"By train?" Castiel asked incredulously.
"We have to blend in, don't we? Time to learn the tricks of the human trade, Castiel and enjoy the confines of human transportation."