Doubt fell like heavy raindrops in Castiel's mind. The Winchesters' reputation for their seemingly impossible and clearly suicidal plans was surpassed only by their uncanny, and in some cases unbelievable ability to come out on top against the most unforgiving odds. Despite his faith in their loyalty and determination, Cas couldn't bring himself to like the younger Winchester's newest plan. Surely, it could only end in death and grief.
The only question was who would be dead and who would be grieving.
Trying to tell Sam that, however, was utterly futile.
"I KNOW, Cas!" Sam shouted, his voice echoing through the Bunker's atrium as he flung his arms skyward in a gesture of hopeless frustration. "But what else can we do? What else can we even try? If you have any bright ideas, please. I'm all ears." He fixed his suddenly very young eyes on Cas's, and Cas was struck at how closely human eyes could resemble those of a juvenile canine.
"I," he began, glancing around at the ancient tomes as though looking for a hidden solution somewhere between the old spines. "... have no idea what else we could even attempt," he finished at last, defeated.
"But Sam," he tried again, his tone laced with disbelief. "There are so many things that could go wrong – and not just for Dean! Do you know how dangerous unbound Grace is? You've only ever seen me or another angel handle it and for good reason. It's volatile. There's a reason unsuitable angel vessels explode, you know."
"Yeah, Cas, I get that," Sam returned tiredly, wiping a hand across the dark circles under his eyes. "Believe me, I know how dangerous this plan is. I know how easily we could kill him. Or if it doesn't work and he gets loose again, how easily he could kill me. Hell, he almost did last time. But it's all we've got. There's nothing in the lore and there is no plan B. All we've got is Death's theories."
"Yes – theories! We could perform it perfectly and find it doesn't even work!"
"Well," Sam said slowly, staring fixedly at Cas's elbow. "If that happens, then ... then the demon will have to be dealt with, I guess."
Cas blinked, unsure he had heard correctly. "Dealt with? You mean killed?"
When Sam's eyes met his, they were filled with a darkness Cas had never seen in them before. "If I can't save my brother." He hesitated, taking a deep, fortifying breath. "Then I'll have to kill him."
"... How?"
"I'll figure something out."
The mere thought of Sam Winchester murdering his brother was too much for Cas to bear. "Absolutely not."
"What?"
"You cannot kill him."
Sam's arms flapped by his sides. "Well, what the hell else can we do, Cas? Lock him in the dungeon for eternity?"
"No, you misunderstand me. You will not kill him."
Sam's expression turned quizzical. Glancing down at his hands, Cas took a breath big enough to force the heavy words across the gleaming table to Sam's waiting ears.
"If it turns out that we have to kill Dean," he said slowly, before raising his head to look Sam steadily in the eye. "I will do it."
"Cas, man, I can't ask you to do th –"
"You're not asking me. I'm telling you. I have the power now. If we can't save Dean ... then I will kill him."
Sam stared at Cas with an unfathomable expression for a long moment. Eventually, he nodded slowly. "Okay, Cas. Thanks."
A solemn silence engulfed them for a time as they both avoided the other's eye.
"Sam," Cas said tentatively after a while. "How do you propose we, uh, find Dean?"
Heaving a sigh, Sam leaned forward and rested his forearms on the surface of the table. "Well ... I thought we could try that spell Dean and Crowley used to track Cain down."
"Do you think that would work?"
"Well, either it'll lead us to Dean, in which case we'll have to figure out a way to get him back here without killing anybody, or it'll lead us to Cain and he'll most likely try to kill us. Or," he added brightly, "it won't work and we'll just have wasted our time. But it's the only plan I've got."
Cas hmm'd as he thought it over. "I suppose we could –"
His words were cut off by three booming knocks on the Bunker's front door. Sam and Cas stared at each other.
"I somehow doubt that's the pizza man," Cas said as he rose to his feet. Sam copied him, pulling his gun out and cocking it.
They moved quickly to the door. With Cas waiting near the hinges, ready to surprise whoever it was if there was need, Sam pulled the door open a crack, his finger brushing gently against the trigger of his gun.
Sam's eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight on the other side of the thick door. A deep voice spoke through the opening, stirring an ancient memory in Cas's mind. "Sam Winchester? I believe this belongs to you."
Sam shot Cas a confused glance. "Um, yes, uh, is –"
"Would you mind stepping aside?" the voice asked. "He's starting to come around."
Sam hesitated for a moment longer before obliging and allowing the stranger inside. He signaled to Cas to stay hidden behind the door, and he sank further back into the shadows.
Cas watched from his admittedly crap hiding place as a thickset man with steely grey hair and a silver-speckled beard bustled through the open door, half carrying, half dragging the unconscious form of –
"Dean!" Cas gasped. He clapped a hand over his own mouth, but he was lucky: the sound of his outburst had been covered by Dean's dragging boots squeaking against the floor. The little of Dean's face that Cas could see was covered in dried blood and creased in a frown.
"Where do you want him?" the big man huffed.
"Um – in the dungeon, I guess – hang on, you're Cain, aren't you?"
Cas stared transfixed at the first murderer. Cain!
"Yep. Which way to the dungeon?"
"Wait – wait!" Sam stepped in front of the first son of Adam, blocking his path. "What the hell are you – where'd you come from!"
Whatever look Cain leveled Sam with had the younger Winchester blanching slightly.
"You really want to question me? Now? Dean's waking up, if you haven't noticed, and I'm not in the mood for another round of sparring. Once he's contained, I'll answer whatever questions you have."
"How do I know this isn't a trap?"
There was a pause that made Cas sure Cain had raised his eyebrows in disdain. Sam looked abashed but held his ground, gripping his gun more firmly.
"Does this look like a trap?"
"Could be. Crowley came to you weeks ago. You said you'd help and then you just –"
"What do you think I'm doing now?" Cain cut across him, anger flaring in his tone. "I got the boy for you, didn't I? Isn't that helpful? Now either tell me where this dungeon is or have your angel show me!"
Sam's eyes flicked to Cas and back. "What angel?"
Cain's head tilted slightly to the side. "The one hiding in plain sight behind the door," he answered, sounding highly unimpressed.
Clearing his throat, Cas stepped forward. "I am Castiel," he announced as he drew level with the ancient demon. Cain turned his stern gaze on Cas for a long moment, evaluating him.
"The last time I met an angel, he tried to kill me," Cain said at last. "I hope you're not going to repeat his mistake. It would make this quite awkward."
"As long as you intend us no harm, I have no desire to kill you."
Cain's black eyebrow cocked in surprise. "Is that so? You don't want me dead?"
Cas shook his head slowly. "What happened to you was not your doing. It was Lucifer's fault. You were only trying to protect your brother." Cas's eyes drifted to Dean's half-obscured face as he spoke. "That trait seems to run in the family."
Avoiding Cas's gaze, Cain grunted and gestured for Sam to lead the way.
Sam ducked under his brother's arm and helped Cain carry the softly groaning form through the bunker. Cas brought up the rear, his muscles tense, as much from nerves as from a readiness to fight.
When they reached the Men of Letters archive, Cas stepped in front of the others and unlocked the heavy door. He flicked the lights on and walked between the rows of boxes and files to pull open the hidden entrance to the dungeon. As the creaking groan of the shelves died away, a loud crack rent the air behind him. Before he could turn around, a wall of tightly compressed air punched into his back, throwing him forward onto the edge of the iron Devil's Trap.
Heart hammering, Cas sprang to his feet, sinking into a battle crouch as he surveyed the scene.
Sam's legs were just visible through the door to the hallway. He had been knocked onto his back and wasn't moving. Cain was slumped against the wall beside Sam's boots, pushing himself to his feet. Cas just had time to see a familiar figure disappear around the doorjamb.
Before Cain had regained his footing, Cas was flying past him in hot pursuit, throwing an anxious glance to Sam's unconscious form.
Dean was fast. Despite his long absence from the Bunker, he remembered its corridors well – better than Cas did. Luckily for Cas, his new Grace flowed fiercely through him, like a raging river through his veins, pumping his legs faster than they ever had. It was exhilarating.
He caught up to Dean in the atrium. The demon was between him and the door, too far ahead for Cas to outrun.
It was a good thing angels didn't just run.
Feeling his heart swell with a joy he had been deprived of for far too long, Castiel leaped forward as his immense, beautiful, whole wings unfurled behind him, effortlessly carrying his weight. The Bunker was barely wide enough to contain his wingspan. He flapped twice, relishing the strength of his muscles, rejoicing as he felt his wingtips brush against the ceiling and floor. His Grace thrummed through him, eager to prove its strength.
Cas whirled around in mid-air, giving one last half-flap to steady his landing as he dropped gracefully between Dean and the stairs to the Bunker's door. Dean skidded to a halt, snarling. His eyes were black.
Cas allowed his light to shine through Jimmy Novak's old eyes, illuminating his mighty wings and casting their shadow behind him. Power filled him; he stood tall and proud. He very carefully hid his breaking heart as he saw Dean's face. His true face.
It was a pain beyond description to see the man he had rebelled for, the man he had pulled from Hell itself, filled with choking orange-red flame and billowing smoke. His once-bright soul was hard and thorny, coiling and uncoiling under the painfully normal-looking skin.
He didn't look like Dean. He looked as hideous and vile as every demon Cas had ever killed. There was no human hiding beneath the fire and smoke: there was only the demon that had once been his best friend.
Dean's lips curved into a smile over his bared teeth. "Heya, Cas," he said in a voice that should never have belonged to such a visage. "Nice wings."
Cas took a step forward, funneling his pain into his rage, straightening his back and allowing his wings to fill the room. "You will go no farther, demon," he snarled.
Dean let out a low, dark chuckle. "Stand aside, angel, or I will cut you to pieces."
Dean held out his hand in the direction of the dungeon, ignoring his clearly broken wrist. His fingers twitched and the flames inside him swelled, straining. Cas heard something whistling through the air before Dean's fingers fastened tightly around the hilt of the First Blade.
Dean's smirk widened. He licked his bared teeth, slowly, clearly savouring his reunion with the weapon.
For a long moment, angel and demon stared at each other, waiting. Then, as one, they leaped forward, colliding in mid-air. Cas grabbed Dean's broken blade wrist and held it up, curling his wings tightly around him as he had done once before, on their ascent from Hell. Dean's other hand landed hard against Cas's right eyebrow and he felt the skin break as his head jerked back. His concentration broken, both men fell in a tangle of wings and fists to the ground, Castiel still holding tight to Dean's wrist.
Dean landed another punch to Cas's forehead, trying to pull free of his grip. Cas returned the blow by swinging his right wing hard into Dean's jaw, eliciting a grunt of pain as his head snapped back into the hard floor. Light sparked at the tip of the First Blade, and Cas pushed it away from his face a split-second before a torrent of burning light erupted from the toothed tip, burning a smoldering hole in a shelf of books.
Letting out a great roar of rage, Cas curled his free hand around Dean's throat and beat the demon's head into the floor, using the precious moments of distraction to maneuver on top of him, pinning Dean to the floor with his legs, one hand holding his wrist above his head, the other tightening around the demon's throat. Cas pulled his immense wings back slightly, their tips brushing along the cold floor as he held them proudly aloft. Feeling his face contort with rage, Cas leant forward until he was inches from Dean's snarling face.
"Enough, demon!" he spat.
Dean bucked underneath him, trying desperately to free himself, but Cas, imbibed with Grace and fury, held fast. Dean roared in frustration and anger, pushing his free hand against Cas's chest, his black eyes bulging. Castiel's fingers tightened around his throat, slowly choking him.
"You are not Dean Winchester," he whispered, his voice dripping with barely restrained rage and loathing.
The demon's black eyes stared into Cas's blue ones, looking like nothing more than hatred itself. Panting against Cas's fist, Dean stilled somewhat.
Footsteps echoed nearby but Cas did not lift his gaze from the black voids.
"Cas!" It was Sam. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Cas growled, still not breaking eye contact.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw Sam attempt to prise the demon's fingers open from the hilt of the first murder weapon. Dean growled, straining harder against Castiel's grip.
"C'mon, Dean," Sam panted. "Let it go, just let it go."
Two more hands appeared in Cas's peripheral vision as Cain helped Sam relinquish the demon's grip on the Blade. Unable to fight back, the demon let out a great roar of frustration and fury, squirming under Cas. He heard a metallic click as the hated weapon was locked in a cursebox.
"It's okay, Dean. It's okay." Sam's stared at his brother, repeating the words as though if he said them enough, they would become true.