CHAPTER 6
Sam tried to be careful, to conserve his bullets for as long as he could. That was impossible, though. The hounds were still coming after him, faster than he could run away, and the salt rounds were the only reason why they hadn't caught him already. But that wasn't going to last for much longer. They were gaining, and nothing he did was going to be enough to stop them.
He could see the pile of iron bars, scattered wildly where the angels had dropped them. If he could just reach them, then he'd be able to hide out there, where the hounds wouldn't be able to follow. That was a fool's dream, though, and he knew it. For one, they were still two hundred feet away, and the hounds would get to him before he'd be able to cover even a quarter of that distance. And more than that, it was in the wrong direction. He would have to run straight trough the crowd of demons in order to reach it, and he wasn't even going to pretend that that was possible. He'd be ripped to shreds before he made it two steps.
He looked around frantically, searching for some cover – anything at all, just something that would be enough to hold them off while he came up with a plan. He was in a clearing, though, with absolutely nothing around. No trees to climb, no houses to break into – hell, not even a rock big enough to give him some semblance of the high ground, even though he knew that an advantage like that would buy him a few seconds at the most. But the area around him was completely empty. He had nothing.
Then he pulled the trigger, and nothing happened.
He was out of bullets.
He spun and ran as fast as he could, not looking back, doing his best to ignore the growls rising up behind them. He couldn't risk any sort of distraction, anything that could slow him down for even an instant. Even so, he could still feel that they were getting closer, practically nipping at his heels. He pushed himself faster, but it wasn't going to do any good. Maybe he could outrun them for a short time, but in the long run-
Well, there was no way that Sam was going to survive.
No sooner had Sam thought that that he suddenly found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala. He gasped, both from shock and because he was struggling to catch his breath, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
A hound barked, and Sam flinched, spinning around toward it. It was just outside his window. He could hear its claws against the glass, and more hounds with it, nails scraping against the metal.
"Well, shit," Dean said. "There goes the paintjob."
"Dean," Sam said, looking over at his brother, eyes wide, breathing still coming too hard. "What-?"
"Hester," Dean said, as if that was all of the explanation needed.
Sam just nodded, and looked around. He had almost started to relax when he'd seen his brother's face, just slightly, but now he tensed again. "Where's Cas?" he demanded. The backseat was empty, with no sign that Cas had been sitting there any time recently. If something had happened-
"He's with the angel chick," Dean said quickly, before Sam's mind could go too far in that direction. Sam looked back toward him, and he knew his brother well enough to know that Dean was worried. But it was the normal kind of worry, the kind that Sam would expect to see any time that they were in some serious shit and didn't know exactly where each other were. It didn't look like the kind of panic that Dean would be feeling if he thought that Cas was really in danger.
So Sam nodded, and again, he didn't ask any more questions. There were more important things to focus on. "Azazel has Lily," he said quickly. "He's dragging her down to the cemetery – planning on opening a gate into Hell."
"Yeah, I got that part," Dean said. "That's the reason why Hester flew off with Cas. Said something about wanting his help to stop it." And yeah, there was definitely some worry there, but Dean just shook his head, and added, "She told me that she'd send me to rescue you, then she wants us to get the hell out. We're not supposed to be involved in this battle." Dean paused then, eyeing Sam, and then the smallest smirk formed on his lips. "You think that we should listen to her?"
And it was weird, because considering everything that had happened, and everything that could happen today, there was absolutely no reason why the thought of going to face Azazel should make him smile. He didn't even know if any of them would make it out alive. If they drove to the cemetery, then they would be surrounded on all sides by demons that would be gunning for both of them, and would stop at nothing until they were dead. And this time, if either of them died, Sam was sure that their fates would be the same, in all the ways that mattered. Torture in Hell for Dean, torture in Heaven for Sam. Either way, it wasn't going to end, not until the angels and demons had molded them both into what they wanted them to be.
So it was absolutely insane for Sam to think that there was anything good about riding into this battle. But maybe it was the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush, or maybe it was just the fact that he was here in the Impala, with Dean, ready to face this down together the way that they always did. But for whatever reason, Sam couldn't help but grin back, just a little. "I say we go kill these demon bastards."
Dean nodded, his smirk shifting into something more determined, and he shifted the car into drive. "You better buckle up, Sammy," he said. "This is going to be a hard ride, and I'm not caring for you if you're stupid enough to get yourself thrown through the windshield first time we run something over."
Sam hurried to do so, just as Dean took off. He hadn't been joking about running things over. Not all of the hounds made it out of their way in time, and even though Sam couldn't see them, he could definitely feel when the car tires rolled over their bodies, and could hear the pained yelps from beneath the car. Sam just clutched the armrest tight, and ignored them. Dean always joked that the Impala was invincible, that it could take on anything, that not even being crushed by a semi could take it down forever. Guess they were about to find out how true that was.
Not even a hellhound could outpace a car, not when they really started to get up to speed, and finally they left the hounds behind completely, though they were still bumping over the uneven terrain. Still, though, the Impala was holding it together. Sam swore that he was never saying another bad thing about this car again.
Now that they were out of danger – for the moment, at least – Sam took another look at his brother. Dean's hands were clenched hard around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with a singlehanded determination, like he couldn't focus on anything but the road in front of them. And his lips were moving.
"What are you saying?" Sam asked with a frown.
Dean stiffened, and immediately pressed his mouth closed tight, cutting himself off mid word. And for a second, Sam was sure that Dean wasn't going to say anything about it, and almost felt bad for asking. Then Dean scowled, and still didn't look over at Sam, but he said, "I'm praying. Got a problem with that?"
Those were the last words that Sam had ever expected to hear come from his brother's mouth, but he took care not to let the surprise show on his face. "You should drive faster," he said, instead of answering. "Azazel's got a good head start on us. There's no way that we can actually beat him to the Gate, but we can still try, can't we?"
"Fuck yes we can try," Dean said, and pushed the gas pedal harder. The speedometer began inching upwards toward sixty miles per hour – even Dean wasn't crazy enough to drive faster than that, not when they were off road. They probably shouldn't even be trying to go this speed, but it wasn't like they had a choice – they had to get there fast. So Sam just had to hope they didn't hit the wrong bump and end up crashing.
At this rate, it wasn't going to take them long to reach the cemetery. Sam leaned forward and opened the glove compartment, pushing aside the various maps and badges until he found what he was looking for – the long iron dagger that they stashed there, for emergencies. He drew it from its sheath, turning it over in his hand to check the weight and the balance, then nodded. Not as good as an angel blade, but it'd be better than any of the weapons that he currently had on him, at least. And it was better than nothing. He sheathed it and tucked it into his jacket, where he'd be able to draw it easily, then reached under the seat to where the extra salt rounds were hidden.
Within a minute, Sam had his gun reloaded and ready to go. Meaning that there was nothing left for him to do but sit back and wait for them to arrive.
He couldn't help but notice that Dean was once again mouthing words. Sam couldn't tell what he was saying, and he didn't try to figure it out. Whatever he had to say, that was between him and whoever it was that he was praying to. Instead, Sam just turned away, tightening his hold on his gun and bracing himself for the upcoming fight.
Cas smiled slightly at the sound of Dean's voice in his head. Or, it wasn't his voice, not exactly – Cas didn't have the necessary grace to hear exactly what Dean said to him. But he could understand the meaning behind the words, enough to tell that Dean and Sam were together, and safe, and heading straight for the center of the devil's trap.
Cas wasn't even surprised. Even without the prayers, he would've known that the Winchesters would not run from the fight, no matter what Hester had said about them not being involved when the battle began. But so long as Dean continued to pray, then Cas would know that the brothers were still okay, and that was the best that he could hope for.
For the moment, though, he was unable to focus on Dean's prayers, no matter how much he worried about the two of them going off into danger together. Any second now, the angels would begin to arrive, and Cas still didn't have the slightest clue what he was going to say to them.
Cas drew a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. He tried to imagine himself as an impressive figure, strong enough to inspire a group of angels into following him, and to deserve their allegiance.
He did not feel that way. At once, he was all too aware of the dirt that stained the front of his trench coat, and that he was wearing one of Dean's tee shirts, which hung oddly around his form. Both of those things were human worries. The angels cared nothing for the state of the vessel, and only dressed themselves in impressive outfits when they were appearing to humans and wanted to command respect. Even then, he was certain that most of the angels didn't know what an impressive garment would be. He could appear before them in rags, or in no clothes at all, and they would not think any less of him.
It was not the clothes that bothered him, though, not directly. But he thought that his physical presence was a good representation of what his true form must look like, if only he were capable of seeing it. No longer did he feel to be as tall as the Chrysler building. Instead, he felt weak, shrunk down until he was certain that the other angels' true forms would tower over his own.
And more than that, he was suddenly horribly aware of the fact that his powers had deserted him, to the point where he was not even capable of fixing the stains on his clothing. Perhaps his physical appearance would not matter, but that, surely, would give the angels pause. They would see his weakened state and realize that he was not meant to be a leader.
But he could not dwell on those thoughts, because all at once, the angels appeared.
There were hundreds of them, stretching back far into the distance, surrounding Cas on all sides, neatly circling the owner of this Heaven to ensure that he had room to fly his kite undisturbed. Some of the angels were in their vessels, with at least fifty or sixty human forms watching him. The rest came as themselves, though he could not see much of them, just a glimmer in the sky, or a flick of a wing in the corner of his eye, revealing that they were there, but beyond what his weakened grace could comprehend.
"Castiel," an angel said, stepping forward. Cas could not see his true form, but he recognized the man that he wore, the same vessel that he had used back when Cas had been in command of his garrison, and this angel had been sent to Earth under his command.
"Inias," Cas said, nodding his head slowly.
"Is it-" Inias asked, then shook his head. He did not finish his question. Instead, he stepped forward, hand outstretched as if he meant to touch Cas. He should not need to, but Cas kept still, allowing the angel to place his fingers along the side of his face as if testing to see if Cas were really there. Inias lingered for a moment, disbelief etched onto his face. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. "You were dead," he said.
"I was not," Cas said immediately, and turned to look around at all of the angels which surrounded him. Then he drew himself up, making himself into the most impressive figure that he could, for all the angels would care about his body language. And he said, as clearly as he could, "I was human."
He could feel the shock almost as a tangible thing, rippling through the room. Cas didn't spend long watching their reactions. Most of the angels – the ones that he recognized despite his diminished grace, at least – were from what used to be his garrison. Hester had mentioned that Inias had taken over as leader after Cas had fallen, and Cas could see it confirmed in the way that the vesseled angels were all aligning themselves toward him, like they were looking to him for instructions.
Cas did not want the angels to fight for him simply because Inias told them to. He hoped – maybe foolishly – that they would be able to make their own choice. That he would make them think, the way that Hester thought him capable of doing. Still, though, bringing Inias to his side would be the way to begin.
"Human," Inias repeated, voice stiff with disbelief.
"Yes," Cas said, firm enough to dispel any doubt over whether he meant what he said. "My grace was cut from my being, for my own protection. I fell to Earth and took this vessel in order to avoid Naomi's detection." He didn't mention that he hadn't given his grace up willingly – that he had been nearly paralyzed with fear during the few seconds that he knew what was happening, before his memories had been stripped from him as well. He didn't think that that particular detail would inspire much confidence in his abilities.
Inias' mouth was partly open – he always had been more human than some of the other angels, when it came to the way that his vessel reacted to his emotions. For a moment, he didn't seem to know what to do. Then all at once his mouth snapped closed, and his eyes narrowed. "You rebelled," he said.
Cas nodded. "Yes." There was no point in denying it, not when they knew the truth already. And more than that, he didn't wish to deny it – to do so would be to imply that he had done the wrong thing, and he would never say that.
"You betrayed us," Inias continued, sharper this time.
Now, Cas shook his head. "No, brother," he said, and he was the one to reach out toward Inias this time. "Naomi has betrayed us. I was trying to right the wrongs that she has committed."
Inias stepped back, out of Cas' reach, and Cas let his hand fall limply to his side. But Inias made no move to capture him, the way that Cas half feared that he would. Instead, he was listening to Cas with obvious suspicion written into every inch of his vessel, but he was listening nonetheless. That was something, at least.
Still, though, he sensed that this peace was fragile. If he hesitated, or if he said the wrong thing, he would not be surprised if Inias would turn against him. He had to speak fast, while he still held their attention.
He clasped his hands together, and made a choice.
"Naomi intends to aid the demons in opening a gate into Hell, and allowing Lilith to escape and break the seals," he said, not once taking his eyes off of Inias. His heart beat hard in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears, and he knew that this would be the moment that determined their course. Inias could listen, and ask for Cas to tell him more. Or he could just as easily turn against Cas for even daring to suggest that Naomi would do such a thing.
Hester never would have brought Cas here if she had thought that he would be placed in danger, but she did not know everything. She already had more faith in him than he truly deserved. Perhaps she was also wrong about the danger that he was in, or about the angels' willingness to think for themselves.
He did not dare to imagine the consequences that he would face if this were the case.
"What?" Inias asked, which wasn't acceptance, but it wasn't an outright denial, either.
Cas decided to press forward, to take it a step farther. "She intends on beginning the Apocalypse, allowing Lucifer to rise from the Cage where our Father trapped him all those millenniums ago. Her plan will undo the sacrifices of all of our brethren who died to force Lucifer into this Cage. If she succeeds, it all will have been for nothing." That was less of a concern for him – he cared more about the deaths of the humans during the battle, and the fact that Sam and Dean would be used as puppets in their plan. But he knew how the angels would react. There was not a single angel who had escaped the battle with Lucifer unscathed. Even the few who were lucky enough to never be injured had felt the gaping loss that came with the angels' deaths, the hole in the wavelengths that had once been filled by the words of their fallen brethren.
And he knew that it would make them pause long enough for him to add, "And the battle between Michael and Lucifer will destroy most – if not all – of the world. Millions of humans would be killed, after our Father trusted us with their protection." He paused, waiting, aware of the force of hundreds of angels' attention firmly locked on his form. He had to take a breath to steady himself, but he did not allow himself to waver. "If we allow them to come to harm, then we are no better than Lucifer, and we would deserve the same punishment that he received when he was first cast into Hell."
Utter silence. Cas could hear it stretching around them, sharper than any noise could have been. Twenty feet away, the man with the kite hummed softly to himself, unaware of the conversation happening around him.
"Strong words, brother," Inias said softly.
Cas held his gaze. "I know," he said. His voice was steady. "And I mean them."
Inias shook his head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Cas. "You can't expect us to believe you," he said. "Not if you don't give us a reason to."
"You know that Naomi must be working with the demons," Cas said. "There is no other reason why she would lift the railroad tracks to allow the them access to the Gates of Hell." Inias opened his mouth to protest, but said nothing. Cas waited, and when the silence began to once again stretch on, he said, "Provide me with another reason why Naomi would allow the demons in, and give them access to such a dangerous location, if she was not working with them in some way."
Inias did not answer.
"She could've been threatened," another angel suggested. Cas turned toward the voice, and though he was sure that he must know the angel who had spoken, the female vessel was unfamiliar to him. "The demons forced her into it."
Cas was about to argue, but then he stopped, and looked back at Inias. "What do you think of that suggestion?"
He held his breath. Not that he truly needed to breathe – it was an instinct more than anything, leftover from the days that his body had required oxygen for survival – but he had grown accustomed enough to the flow of air through his chest that he noticed the lack of it after only a few seconds, and had to force himself to resume breathing normally. If Inias agreed with the other angel's assumption, then Cas didn't know what he could say next, or how to possibly prove Naomi's guilt.
Inias was quiet for a long time, longer than Cas would have liked. It was difficult to hold himself back, but Cas forced himself to remain silent, giving Inias time enough to come to whatever conclusion he wished. It was clear that he wasn't the only one to grow restless – though the vesseled angels mostly did not move, he could feel gusts of wind as those without a vessel flapped their wings, almost impatiently.
"No," Inias said, finally. "I don't believe that Naomi would allow herself to be put into this position. No demon would be strong enough to trap her, nor bend her to their will. Not if she didn't wish to be bent."
Cas let out a long whoosh of breath, barely able to stop his shoulders from slumping with pure relief. Instead, he kept his head up, forcing himself to maintain a dignified stance. "You believe me, then."
Inias nodded, then shook his head, then paused, a frown forming on his lips. "Why did you rebel?"
That question was simple enough to answer. "The first seal of Lucifer's cage isthe Righteous Man is broken being broken in Hell," Cas said. "And Dean Winchester was forced to sell his soul to a demon. If he dies, he will be tortured in Hell until the seal breaks, and then there will be little left to prevent Lucifer's rise."
"And how do we know that we can trust his words?" another angel burst out, stepping forward, the eyes of her vessel flashing with anger. This vessel, Cas recognized.
"Esther-" Cas said softly, reaching out toward her.
She slapped his hand away. "I refuse to believe that Naomi would betray us, any of us," she said, practically snarling the words. "She and the archangels have led Heaven peacefully for as long as we have ever known. They follow our Father's orders. She would never harm us, I know it."
Cas swallowed, and though he knew that he should worry about the effect that her words could have on swaying the angels away from his side, all he could feel for her was an overwhelming pity. Perhaps it was the human side of him, which was tricked by the fact that she wore the vessel of a young girl. It made him feel as though he needed to protect her, despite knowing logically that she was the same age as him, and just as strong. "Oh, sister," he said softly. "She has hurt us, every one of us. You don't remember it, but she has."
"What do you mean?" Inias demanded, stepping forward before Esther had the chance to say anything more. "Why wouldn't we remember?"
Cas hesitated. He knew how this would sound. Right now, he was close to swaying them toward him, but his hold on their loyalty was still fragile. This could tip them firmly onto his side, or it could isolate himself from them completely.
There was no way to tell which way it would fall until he spoke the words, so he braced himself, and came out with it. "She has been rewriting our minds," he said bluntly, knowing that there was no point in being gentle. "Changing our programing to make us into what she wants us to be, and erasing our memories so that we have no reason to suspect what she is doing." He swallowed, but it was impossible to tell how the angels were reacting, so there was nothing he could do but press on. "She has made us mindlessly obedient to her wishes, forcing us to not see what is happening in Heaven. But I refuse to let her rewrite me any longer. I make my own choices now, and for that, she has sentenced me to die." He paused, then added, "She has not been as successful with that as she would have liked to be."
"Castiel," Inias said, and let the word hang in the air, as if he couldn't possible think of a way to finish his thought. "You know what you are implying."
"I do," Cas said solemnly. "And I know that it is the truth."
"And why should we believe his word?" Esther snapped. "It's him against Naomi, and I know where my allegiance lies. He's the only one who claims that this is happening, and I say that there is no reason to trust him."
And angels shifted. Cas could practically see the way that messages traveled through their minds. Angel radio, Dean had called it, and there was no way for Cas to know what they were saying. They must have realized that Cas was no longer connected to their wavelengths, and had been speaking aloud only as a courtesy to him. Most of the communication was happening beyond his perception, though, and he suddenly wondered what words had been exchanged during the moments that he had thought of as silences. Surely they were discussing his words through the wavelengths, and he had no way of learning what they had been saying.
Then a voice cut through his mind, as clearly as Cas had once heard Dean Winchester's name spoken in his thoughts. Actually, that's where you'd all be wrong. Except Castiel, of course. Then again, can't say that this is exactly a new phenomenon.
Cas recognized the voice, of course, and immediately turned and squinted toward the sky. He hoped that he might be able to see a flash of wings, or a trace of light to indicate the speaker's presence, but there was nothing. Still, though, Cas could sense the presence.
And a second later, Balthazar spoke again.
It'd been going on for ages, really. Been getting rather old, to be honest. There's only so many times you can watch your brethren lose their minds before it starts to get repetitive.
"What are you saying?" Inias asked, at the same moment that Cas asked, voice heavy with disbelief, "You knew?"
Imagine it, Balthazar continued. You've all had a moment when you've wanted to rebel, haven't you? Now, I'm sure that just thinking about it horrifies you, doesn't it? But focus on that moment. Really dig your teeth into it, if you'll pardon the human expression.
For a moment, none of the angels responded.
Then one flinched, her vessel's hands clenching and unclenching spastically, a look of horror spreading across her face, mouth falling open.
You're remembering it, aren't you? Why you wanted to rebel. And what happened to make sure that you didn't. See, that's the ticket. The key is finding the weak spots, the fake memories that replace the ones of her scooping your thoughts out. That's where you need to focus.
And gradually, similar looks of horror began spreading from angel to angel, almost as though a wave were passing through them. The wind picked up speed as the unvesseled angels reacted similarly, the "angel radio" suddenly strong enough that Cas could sense it as a buzzing in his head, even if the words themselves eluded him.
Very good! Balthazar praised them. Or, actually quite horrible, isn't it? Does need to happen, though.
"I-I-" Inias stammered, reaching one hand up to press his palm flat against the side of his head. "There was a machine," he finally said. "I remember the feel of it. I-" He said nothing more.
None of them appeared to have recovered yet, but Cas could not risk allowing them to wait any longer. "Will you enter this battle now?" he asked, turning in a circle to look toward them all. "Will you join me in protecting humanity, and in ensuring that Naomi can never harm us again?"
For one single moment, none of the angels moved.
Then all of them fell to their knees, moving almost as one, with no deviation in their movements. Cas could not see them, but he was certain that the unvesseled angels were taking similar actions. It was a gesture of respect, one awarded to archangels and Naomi, but no one else. The sight was staggering, making Cas feel as though his head were swimming.
"Castiel," Inias said. "We will follow you."
"No," Cas said faintly, his voice weak from disbelief. He shook his head. "I don't want you to follow me. The point is that you should think for yourselves, make your own decision."
"Yes," Inias said. "And we wish to do as you say." Around him, heads began to nod. Not even Esther protested.
"But-" Cas protested.
Oh, let them have their fun, Cassie. Don't be such a spoilsport.
Balthazar's words surprised a smile out of Cas, and then slowly, he nodded.
"Alright," he said, mentally shifting himself into the commander that he had been during the war against Lucifer, focusing his head on strategy. He didn't know what was happening on Earth, though, or how many angels or demons would be involved. Without that information, there was no strategy that he could tell them, except, "You know where the devil's trap is, and how to find the demon Azazel. I need you to go there at once, and aid Hester in fighting him. She will be your commanding officer in this battle. You follow her orders, not mine."
Hundreds of heads nodded. Hundreds of wings flapped harder. Then, all at once, the angels were gone.
Cas took a breath, and felt his hands shake as he stared around the Heaven, empty now except for the man. Despite the faith that Hester had claimed to have in him, he still hadn't truly believed that it would work. The fact that somehow, the angels had agreed to stand with him left him unsteady with disbelief.
Brother.
Perhaps he wasn't so alone, after all.
Cas turned, regarding the angel in front of him. Now that there were not so many angels around, it was easier to focus his eyes, forcing himself to see the true form that stood in front of him. The being was hazy, barely visible to his eyes, but he could see enough of it to tell that it was undeniably Balthazar.
He smiled, just as Balthazar continued, I'm glad to see that you're not dead. Of course, I already knew that – you're the one angel that I can count on to not roll over and die when Naomi wants you to. Still, though, nice to see for myself.
"Yes," Cas said, glancing down at his body. "I am also pleased to be alive." Then he looked up, looking Balthazar in the eyes as best he could, considering what little of the angel's form that he could see. "You don't seem surprised, though."
For a moment, Balthazar didn't respond. Then, You know, I would've thought that you'd want to enjoy not being dead for a while, instead of racing headfirst into some plan that's just going to make Naomi even more determined to kill you.
Cas snorted, and shook his head. "Naomi would want to kill me no matter what I did," he said. "At least thing way, there is a chance that we may stop her before she gets the chance." Then he tilted his head, regarding Balthazar closely. "I can hear you, even without a vessel."
Yes, well, it's not exactly fun having to bully my way through the block that Naomi placed on your mind. It works, though. A moment's hesitation, then Balthazar added, Besides, Cassie, it's not as though this is my first time playing around in that head of yours, tweaked the wavelengths a bit.
For a moment, Cas only stared. Then the realization dawned on him. "You were the one who blocked me from hearing what the angels said, when I was human."
He waited for a response, but it never came. He decided to interpret that silence as a yes.
"Hester said that you were devastated by my death," Cas said softly.
Well, yes, I had to be, didn't I? I wasn't about to let Naomi know that something wasn't right.
"So you did know," Cas said, and frowned. "Why did you cut me off?"
Angels didn't typically show much emotion when they were in their true forms – or at all, in some cases – but Cas could still practically hear the derisive tone to Balthazar's voice. You think that it would be a good thing for Naomi to realize that a human was listening to us and go poking around? Because that sounded to me like the kind of thing that we wanted to avoid. I'm sure Hester would've done the same if she'd calmed down enough to think it through. There was a pause, and then Cas was sure that if Balthazar had had a vessel at that moment, it would've been shrugging. I did try to let some info slip past when I could. If this Dean Winchester was important enough for you to leave Heaven over, I figured you at least deserved a few updates on what was happening with him. Easier said than done, though, I'm afraid. Especially since most of those messages were things that I wasn't even supposed to be hearing.
Cas' throat suddenly felt tight, and he would have reached out for his friend, if his friend had had a body to reach out towards. Instead, there was nothing that Cas could do except nod, and hope that his sincerity came across as he said, "Thank you."
You've done the same for me, Balthazar said, almost dismissively. Of course, I doubt that you remember any of that.
Which brought Cas to the other question that he had to ask. "Balthazar," he said, then hesitated, before saying, "How did you know what to say, or how to make the angels remember?"
The silence stretched on for a long time – almost too long – and then Balthazar finally answered. It's simple. I've done it to you often enough to know the tricks. Cas blinked, and tried to think of a response, but he felt as though he could do nothing but stand there and stare. You don't remember it, do you? That's exactly why I eventually gave up on the whole thing. All it meant was that Naomi would rewrite you yet again, and it did begin to seem rather pointless. Of course, it was also better for me if Naomi never realized that I knew. And I'm sorry, Cas, but I'm the one thing that I'm never going to risk for your sake. You understand.
"I do," Cas said slowly. "I would never ask you to risk your life for me, Balthazar."
Good, because I'm not going to.
Cas began to nod, then paused, tilting his head and studying Balthazar again. "But you did," he finally said.
Balthazar didn't respond to that, and after a moment, Cas said, "You said that you wouldn't risk revealing that you knew the truth of what Naomi was doing to the angels, but that is precisely what you just did. If you truly didn't want the risk, then you would have kept silent."
Another long pause. Then, Well, yes, I suppose so. Balthazar was silent for a second after that, and Cas could imagine the way that his friend had frown the last time that they'd both been vesseled at the same time, and couldn't help but picture that same expression now, despite knowing that Balthazar no longer bared the slightest resemblance to that man. That's alright, though. I don't intend to be around when the dust clears.
Cas frowned. "You're leaving Heaven," he said, not making it a question.
And you're not going to stop me.
Cas immediately shook his head. "I would not try to stop you," he said. "You've done enough. But there is one thing that I want to ask of you before you go." He waited, then decided to simply take the silence as an invitation, and continued, "I need you to take me to the battlefield."
He hadn't even managed to finish the request before Balthazar was cutting him off. You realize what a stupid idea that is, don't you? Wait, no, sorry, of course you don't. If you did, then you never would have suggested it in the first place.
"I have to go, Balthazar."
No, you really don't. Let's be honest, Castiel, I'm not even sure if I would call you an angel anymore. You're practically human now, and you expect to play a part in a Heavenly battle?
Cas just shook his head insistently. "I don't have a choice," he said. "My family is down there."
You really think that the angels need your help?
"Not the angels," Cas said firmly. "The Winchesters."
He could still feel Dean's prayers in the back of his mind. From what Cas could tell, he and Sam were nearing the cemetery now, and it would not be long before they would be in the thick of the battle. Cas was not going to leave them alone, no matter what the risk to himself may be.
For a second, Balthazar said nothing. When a response finally came, Cas couldn't tell what the emotion in Balthazar's voice was, whether amusement or disgust or some strange combination. You really are human now, aren't you? It was hard for Cas to tell, but he swore that Balthazar was sighing. Then, Things can never just be simple, can they?
"No," Cas answered at once. "No, they can't be."
Cas waited after that, staring ahead of him into the nothingness where he could still barely sense Balthazar's presence. Dean's prayers were louder now that he didn't have to force himself to ignore them, and he could feel the exact moment when he and Sam entered the battle, in the way that Dean's prayers suddenly spiked in intensity, and Cas could practically feel Dean's fear radiating through his mind. It was all he could do not to snap at Balthazar to just hurry up and take him down there now, before anything could happen to the brothers.
Then, at last, the answer came.
Well, alright, then, Balthazar finally said. Let's go drag your boy toy out of the warzone, shall we?