Sam sat in the bunker library slowly turning the cuff of a cast iron shackle in his fingers, studying the engraved markings closely through the magnified lens; now and then, he glanced over to Selaphiel who sat silently in a nearby leather chair, her legs folded in front of her as though in meditation, bare toes curling and straightening on occasion. Flannel and jeans seemed to be the wardrobe available to the archangel, who did not seem to mind that the borrowed clothing was two sizes too big … no, she seemed more focused on the silver lock of hair she twirled within her grasp, staring with an intent and studious expression. Sam found that mildly amusing, that an all-powerful being could be captivated by something so simple as a few strands of hair, but at least it was keeping her occupied. Shaking his head, he smirked a bit and returned his attention to the chain itself; each link had multiple tiny sigils engraved upon them. Someone had taken great care with the creation of Selaphiel's restraints.
"Okay. The Cloak of Invisibility is safely in storage," Dean announced as he entered the library, setting a mug of coffee on the table near his brother while nursing his own. Lifting his cup to take a drink, his eyes became distracted by the angel in the chair, so he lowered his coffee with a curious look. "... barefoot?" he asked as he turned his confused expression to Sam.
"Yeah," the hunter replied with a mildly amused tone as he glanced up from the chain. "It seems 'the unbearable lightness of being is heavy enough without the added weight of socks or shoes'," he teasingly recited before redirecting his attention to the metal once more, copying one of the unfamiliar sigils to his notepad.
"Parmenides? Really?"
Sam froze and looked to his brother with a furrowed brow. "Okay. The fact that you know who Parmenides is, just … I swear. It's like I don't know you anymore."
"What? I read."
"... this …" Selaphiel said suddenly, her voice soft and scarcely above a whisper, "... is what the Nazarites were so worked up about?"
Dean's attention returned to the archangel who still seemed captivated by the lock of hair in her hand. "What's the matter? Brown not your color?"
Unfazed, she continued, "Samson certainly displayed due diligence in his faith by tolerating something so long and cumbersome."
"That's what she said," Dean joked, prompting another smirk from his brother. After finally taking a drink, he moved around the edge of the table to get a closer look at the angel. "So … Sel," he started as he set the coffee aside, focusing on their celestial company. Her gaze slowly lifted from the strands to divert to the hunter and Dean could not help but be silent for a moment, as she seemed to look at him, but not see him … almost as though her eyes were out of focus. There was something unsettling about that, like she could see the person inside rather than the figure standing in front of her. And it sent a shiver down his spine. He had to change the subject. "Before you were zapped into this homunculus or whatever, did you see anything? Hear anything?"
"I hear everything," she replied with quiet honesty.
"What?" Sam asked as he glanced over to them.
"The desperate cries of my brothers searching for me, others attempting to communicate with each other without answer, the prayers of humans, the wishes of everyone. I hear it all." That had not been an answer the Winchesters had expected; but then, they possibly should have, considering Castiel had always been so literal. But even with that bit of knowledge, this was a bit much. "I just … cannot deliver the messages. It is … very frustrating."
"Yeah," Sam concurred. "Sounds deafening."
Selaphiel paused a moment, the silence filled by a slow and definitive blink before her brows creased in confusion. "Was that a pun?"
Again, the hunter snorted as Dean redirected the questioning. "What I meant was did you notice anything, y'know, out of the ordinary before you got stuck in there?"
Finally, the angel's gaze lowered to the floor distantly, hands folding within her lap. "No."
"So you don't know if one of your weapons was actually stolen or not?"
But Selaphiel did not answer, holding an expression of calm as she remained still. "Selaphiel?" Sam asked as he set the chain down, standing to join his brother as Dean waved his hand in front of her face without so much as a blink from the angel.
"Earth to Sel?" Dean called out before snapping his fingers twice in front of her face.
"Did he zone out again?" Sam asked.
"Emergency channels are open," Castiel announced as he suddenly appeared, stepping into the library and moving toward the trio. Without a word, Selaphiel reached behind her to the trench coat draped over the back of her chair, lifting it toward her brother, which he took casually and put on as the conversation continued. "It took some convincing, but Ingrid begrudgingly agreed."
"Thank you," the archangel whispered as she folded her hands in her lap once more, still staring distantly to the floor.
"Is that better?" Castiel asked with concern.
"Yes, thank you," Selaphiel replied with the same softness as before. Dean arched his brow and scoffed.
"Huh."
"What?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head as though to wave it off. "Oh, nothing. I'm just not used to hearing those words from the mouth of an archangel."
"What words?"
"'Thank you'," he announced with a sarcastic smile. "You know. Words of gratitude. Nice to see an angel with some humility." This comment warranted a response from the angels who in turn looked to the hunter with identical confused expressions and synchronized tilts of their heads. The resemblance was uncanny, but Castiel broke the silence by redirecting his attention to Selaphiel.
"I spoke with Hannah. She discovered which of our weapons was stolen."
"And?" Sam asked as Castiel looked to him.
"Selaphiel's staff is missing."
"Like … the Staff of Moses?"
"We're looking for a stick?" Dean added.
"Pointy stick," Castiel corrected.
"We're looking for a pointy stick," Sam confirmed with a nod.
"Closer to what you would call a 'lance', actually."
Impressed, Sam looked to Selaphiel. "Explains your skill with the stake earlier." He almost didn't see the subtle smile of appreciation on the archangel's features as her gaze finally came into focus.
"And you just … let somebody up and take it?" interrupted Dean with a hint of annoyance.
Selaphiel's gaze lifted to Castiel who continued to stand sentry at her side, his posture straight and dutiful … but her expression seemed perplexed. "My staff was not stolen," she confessed quietly. Her brother snapped his attention to her, confused. "I moved it."
"You … moved it?" Dean echoed.
"Yes," she replied as she looked to the hunter once more. "When Raphael took over for Michael. I moved my staff to another location."
"Why would you do that?" Sam questioned.
"Because I disagreed with his plans and did not trust him," she answered simply.
Another snort resounded from Dean. "Yeah. About that," he started, shifting his posture into one of interrogation. "Just … where were you during all of that? Y'know, having another archangel on our side would have been really helpful over the past … I dunno … six? Seven years? During the Apocalypse? Apocalypse Part Deux?"
"Dean," Sam warned, noticing Selaphiel's gaze lowering once more, the archangel becoming increasingly distant and mournful as Dean continued.
"Leviathans. Abaddon. Metatron. What the hell were doing through all of that? Huh?"
"His job," Cas interrupted, his tone firm and defensive, laced with reserved anger.
"What? He couldn't have taken a break to help you out in the war against Raph? Or how about when Naomi had you under her thumb, huh? He couldn't take a minute to just be like 'hey, that's not cool'?"
"Dean, stop it," Sam insisted as Selaphiel's eyes closed, her head bowing sadly. Grabbing his brother's arm, he pulled him toward the war room with a mutter. "Can I have a word with you?" Dean cast the archangel a scowl of disapproval as he was pulled away, but even though they were out of earshot, he still kept an eye on her from the distance. "Okay. What's going on?" Sam asked. "You've been on Sel's ass since before he even woke up."
"I don't trust him," Dean confessed bluntly.
"Why?"
"Why? Why?! Because he's so damn humble. He's humble and quiet and not acting all holier-than-thou and smells really … really good, damnit, like church incense or whatever-"
"You don't like him because he smells nice?" Sam asked with a confused scrunch of his brow.
"Incense, Sam!"
"Angel of Prayer, Dean."
"Besides the point!"
"Is this a … bad … thing? I don't get it."
"That's just the problem!" Dean admitted. "I don't get it. Because I trust him."
"You don't trust him because you trust him ...?"
"Exactly!" Dean huffed. "I just … I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I trust him, and I like him, and I don't like that I like him. Like it's some kind of spell or whatever, I dunno! I just-I don't like that I just met the guy and I automatically trust him and like him because that never ends well!"
"Dean. Look at them. Look at Cas." Sam began, motioning to the figures of the two angels in the distance. "Does that look like the face of someone who resents his brother for not helping him? Honestly? That face? That's adoration."
Castiel slowly crouched at the archangel's side, looking up to her face with deep blue eyes filled with the respect and love of a little brother who looked to his sibling as a hero. "Selaphiel," he began with a gentle gruff. "Please do not take offense by what Dean said. None of us would be here if it wasn't for you. He just … doesn't understand that you have been with us every step of the way."
Heavy lashes lifted only slightly as her sorrowful gaze settled upon her brother.
"The ends justify the means, right?" Castiel continued. "No matter how much it hurts."
Her gaze lowered to her hands within her lap, only to have them taken within Castiel's and squeezed lightly. Still, she did not speak, nor did she look to him to see the worry in his eyes. "I know what you are experiencing must be very painful," Castiel continued, Selaphiel's fingers twitching faintly within his grasp. "But we will find a way to free you. I promise."
Mournful eyes lifted to meet her brothers as a subtle shadow of a smile ghosted over her features. And removing her hand from his, she whispered delicately.
"Hands, though."
"I know, right?" he replied with widened eyes and a smile as she gave his nose a light tap with her fingertip.
…
…
…
The stone slab lay broken as it crossed the line of dying holy fire. Standing at its edge stood a man of tanned skin and dark hair, mahogany eyes scanning the hundreds of corpses that lay in layered rings around the ceremonial circle. The posture of this tall figure was perfectly straight and poised, the aura of a warrior grasping his Angelic Sword in his left hand. The figure's steps scarcely made a sound as he dared to near the center, where a man in a green robe held his head and attempted to push himself to his knees.
"How did he escape?" the Grigori demanded with a rumbling baritone.
Sputtering for breath, the man finally surrendered his attempts to stand and instead rolled onto his back to look up to the new arrival who now kicked at a broken bit of rock. "I … I don't know … everything went exactly as you planned, Kokabiel."
The fallen angel's gaze moved to the chains to find that one, and only one, of the sigils had been scratched through. His eyes narrowed in disappointment as he turned his disdain to the man upon the ground. "This has been a waste. You had a saboteur." He ignored the man's excuses.
"How could we have known? Everyone present was dedicated to the cause. They all gave their lives for the entrapment-"
"This is war. We do not have room for mistakes," Kokabiel scowled. "Our window of opportunity is closing and now the army must lie in wait due to the negligence of you useless mud monkeys."
"We will find him. I promise you."
"We? Your supporters are dead. And now the celestial general is loose upon this world and untraceable."
"I will find him for you. I will! I swear to God-"
The Grigori's blade pierced the mortal's neck, silencing him with a hiss as the life faded from the man's eyes.
"God is dead."
{{ To be continued in Chapter 7: Two Can Keep a Secret if One of Them is Dead }}