A/N: Over 100 reviews, wow! And we're only halfway through the story. You guys make me so happy. :D
Chapter 7
Traveling through the void left Castiel dizzy and nauseated. When the hag reemerged into the earthly plane, he sucked in a lungful of fresh air. His vessel didn't need to breathe in the same sense as humans, but the void in which demons and other entities teleported was the absence of everything that an angel thrived on, particularly light. Swallowing the urge to gag, he started kicking at the woman.
"Put me down!"
She was stronger than him, though. The arm she had braced across his chest shifted to grab a fistful of his shirt, and then she was yanking him around to face her hideous visage. Yellowing eyes flashed irritably, and her other hand came up behind him to close around the back of his neck. Castiel yelped as she squeezed threateningly. Her touch was vile, and bitter cold. Castiel tried to summon the strength of Heaven to smite her, but his grace wasn't working. Nothing was working right, not his grace or his wings. Everything was all wrong and he just wanted to go home.
"Aren't you the most precious little thing," she crooned in a deceptively soft voice. She leaned closer, and Castiel tried to recoil, but her grip on his neck was crushing. He couldn't hold back a small whimper. Her lips touched his forehead with a motherly kiss, and he shuddered with revulsion; it burned like dry ice. The chill seeped into Castiel's skin and began to spread, down his shoulders and chest and through his limbs, until his entire body was numb.
She released his neck, crooking her arm under his back to cradle his limp form. He stared up at her through wide, frozen eyes as she bent down and laid him on a cold, concrete floor. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. His heart pounded faster and faster until the vibrations of rushing blood roared in his ears. The hag loomed over him, but her face began flashing back and forth between someone else, a man with long blond hair…and Castiel's terror multiplied tenfold. There was chanting, and pain, and begging.
Only none of that was actually happening here and now. Castiel's mind was a maelstrom of panic, yet the dim warehouse the woman had brought him to was stale and quiet, and Castiel himself was silent and still, paralyzed by her foul touch.
She clucked her tongue and smoothed some of his hair back. "Now you sit tight, dear. I have some preparations to make." She stood up and moved out of sight, leaving Castiel alone and trapped in his mounting terror.
A tear welled in the corner of his eye and slipped down his cheek.
Dean stared at the spot Cas had been only moments before, and raised his hands to clutch the sides of his head. No. He lost Cas. He lost Cas, who he was supposed to protect! And now the angel was in the hands of a demon, and Dean could easily imagine all the horrific things that woman would do to him. Oh god, he was just a kid…
"Dean!" Sam shouted, gripping his elbows and forcing him to look up. "We'll find him, okay? We'll find him."
Dean shook his head. "How? He's gone, Sam. That bitch could have taken him back to Hell for all we know. Even if they're still on earth, they could be anywhere!" He was gonna hyperventilate. He'd promised Cas he wouldn't let anyone hurt him, ever. And he'd failed. Dean had failed and Cas was probably being tortured…and with his childlike mind he would break in a matter of hours. They'd never reach him in time.
Sam's mouth was pressed into a thin line, and though he was trying to put on a calm, level-headed front, Dean could see the fear swirling in his brother's eyes. "Should we summon Balthazar?"
"And say we lost Cas? He'd send us straight to Hell." Which, Dean almost didn't care about at this moment. His chest was getting tight and it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. All he could think about was the image of four-year-old Cas strapped to a rack, blood streaming down to puddle on the floor in greater quantities than a kid's body even possessed, while high-pitched screams filled Dean's ears.
"Dean!" Sam gave him a rough shake. "Pull yourself together! What the hell, man…"
Dean blinked, the torture scene melting back into the demolished mini mart and his brother standing directly in front of him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. What the hell was right; Dean was normally more collected than this. Even under the most extreme, hopeless situations in the past, he always managed to meet them head-on. Losing his shit was not Dean Winchester's style.
Get it together, he mentally berated. There were options; there were always options. Rework the summoning spell they used for Balthazar to summon Cas instead; find a witch to coerce into doing a scrying; hell, making a deal with a crossroads demon! Because Dean was not giving up on Cas without a fight.
Now that he'd gotten his emotions somewhat under control, Dean scooped up their fallen weapons and stormed outside. He was still feeling an undercurrent of panic—it was Cas, for Pete's sake—and yet…it almost felt detached now, like something outside himself.
Dean pulled up short at the Impala and whirled back toward Sam, who'd been on his heels. Sam came to an abrupt halt, staring at Dean as though he was losing his mind. Maybe he was. Or maybe…
Dean clamped a hand over the place on his arm where the handprint scar was located. How had Cas found him initially? He still had the Enochian warding on his ribs left over from the Apocalypse when they were hiding from the angels. And Dean hadn't prayed to the angel. What had Cas said? Dean 'vibrated' or some such shit. But he'd referred to the scar, as though it held a small piece of Cas from when the angel had raised him from the Pit. It'd never given them any kind of tangible connection before, but maybe since Cas's grace was more unstable, more prone to power bursts, this link was stronger too. Dean would have to worry about the implications of that when they got Cas back and restored to an adult; right now, though, he desperately needed his theory to be true.
"Dean?" Sam questioned worriedly.
He lifted his gaze to Sam's. "I think I can find Cas."
Sam's brows shot up. "How?"
Dean waved vaguely at his arm. "I think…I can feel his emotions. How…" He swallowed hard. "How scared he is." It was either that, or Dean was on the brink of a mental breakdown. He wasn't sure which was worse…but either way, he couldn't allow himself to be overwhelmed by those sensations again, not if he was gonna help Cas.
Sam stared at him in disbelief for a moment before apparently deciding to just accept it. "How do we use that?"
Dean pivoted and marched around the car to climb behind the wheel. Sam scrambled into the passenger side after him as he turned the key in the ignition.
"I don't know. Maybe we can call Bobby, see if there's a spell or something. But shit, Sam, this demon's like nothing we've ever encountered before. Even if we do find them, how are we supposed to stop her?" Dean threw the car in gear and peeled out of the gas station. There was a thrum in his chest, in his arm, and he hoped to a deadbeat God that it wasn't just his imagination. Whatever he was feeling, wherever it was coming from, Dean suspected Cas wasn't far, maybe even in Sioux Falls.
Sam's brows were knitted together in deep thought. "I don't think she was a demon," he finally said. "I think she's a pagan god. Hel, actually."
"Hell is a place, not a person."
Sam shook his head. "No, I mean H-E-L. Remember what she said before she disappeared with Cas? About her ruling Helheim? 'Heim' is the Norwegian word used for realm, or kingdom, which means…"
Dean could practically hear the gears in his brother's head turning, and he wrung his hands around the steering wheel while he waited for Sam to explain.
Sam pulled out his phone, tapped a few keys, and pressed it to his ear. "In Norse mythology, Hel ruled an icy portion of the underworld."
"So we need to kill a god," Dean said. Great. Those bastards usually required a ritual, which took time to research.
"Bobby, hey," Sam said, diverting his attention. "No, we were ambushed by demons. One of them got Cas."
Dean thought he heard a muffled curse through the line.
"We think it's actually the deity Hel from Norse mythology. Can you look up how we're supposed to gank her?" Sam paused and glanced at Dean. "We're working on it," he said in a slightly lower voice. "Is there a tracking spell you can think of… Yeah, okay." Sam hung up. "He's on it."
Dean knew by the sound of Sam's tone that it was a tall order, even for Bobby, on such a short timetable. He pressed the gas harder, revving the engine and pushing the Impala ten, fifteen miles over the speed limit. When he came to the exit that would take them toward Bobby's house, Dean veered the opposite direction.
Sam twisted around in his seat as the exit sign receded behind them. "Dean?"
"Cas ain't at Bobby's," he replied gruffly.
Sam gave him a sympathetic look, but didn't argue. He simply turned his attention back to his phone, doing what limited research he could. That was Sam's method for feeling like he was doing something useful—and right now, driving was Dean's.
Castiel was shivering. It was the only movement he was capable of at the moment, and each relentless tremor sent a wave of pain through his locked joints and stiff muscles. He'd wanted to call for help, but the pathetic mewls he did manage to get out wouldn't be heard by anyone except his captor, who paid him little attention. He could feel her presence, somewhere nearby, and could hear the clink of bottles and rustling of items.
He'd been lying on the concrete ground for a long time, long enough for his mind to dredge up a name to go with the hideous face of the hag, though it meant little to him. He also realized he was in an old warehouse—and that image triggered a series of others that left Castiel fighting to hold back tears. He wanted to go back to Sam and Dean. He tried reaching for that thread he'd followed before, but it was tenuous at best, and he couldn't get his wings to move either.
Soft footfalls approached, and Castiel could only sniffle as Hel stepped into his line of sight. She had painted runes on her arms, all the way from the back of her hands and up to her blue biceps. Castiel didn't know what they meant, but they radiated malevolent design.
"That pond-scum Crowley thinks he can become King of Hell," she muttered as she knelt down on the floor. "When I've been around for an eon longer. But you're going to help me with that, aren't you my little fledgling?"
Castiel wanted to scream, to kick, to do anything but lie there helplessly. She placed a hand on the side of his cheek, infusing a fresh wave of glacial poison. Castiel felt himself growing heavier, and gradually his shivers eased to the point he didn't feel all that cold anymore. He felt…not much of anything.
Hel smiled, and moved her hand to flatten her palm across his chest. She inhaled sharply through her nose, closing her eyes in concentration. The runes along her skin began to glow orange, and Castiel felt something reach deep inside and tug at his core. He barely jerked, though it felt like being harpooned. A light pooled underneath the goddess's hand…and then started being absorbed into her skin, changing the painted symbols so they glimmered with the same hue of the pure, gentle blue aura of an angel's grace.
Dean had been driving in circles through Sioux Falls for the past couple hours. He couldn't say why, or give Sam a good reason for not going to Bobby's to help search the lore, but it was almost as though something was tugging Dean to stay in the area. In fact, while it seemed aimless, he noticed he'd been gradually circling a tighter and tighter radius toward the southern edge of the city. He didn't say anything to Sam, though, just in case it was merely wishful thinking.
He was so focused on following some ridiculous, mystical hunch, that he jumped when Sam's phone rang.
Sam hurriedly hit 'answer' and then the speaker button. "Yeah?"
"Stake made from an alder tree."
"That how we ice this bitch?" Dean asked.
"That's all I could find so far," was Bobby's rough reply. "Normally you need to coat the stake in a special kind of blood when it comes to deities, but I haven't come across anything for Hel yet." There was a pause. "Look, I know time is of the essence, but it's better to be prepared before charging in—"
"This will have to be good enough," Dean interrupted. He was not gonna sit around to triple check things while Cas could be dying.
Bobby let out an irritated huff, but didn't argue. "Also, I don't know if this means anything, but I got a call from a buddy who said a bush spontaneously burst into flames. Nothing else going on, but does sound kinda biblical, don't it?"
Dean exchanged a look with Sam. "Where?"
"Emerson and Holton."
Dean straightened. Those cross streets were in the southern part of town, right where he had been heading all along. He made a sharp right turn, adrenaline spiking through his system. I'm coming, Cas.
Sam thanked Bobby and hung up. After a few taps on his phone's screen, he started whipping his gaze between it and the windows. "Pull over," he said a minute later. "I think that's an alder tree."
Dean cranked the wheel and brought the Impala to a sharp stop along the curb. Sam leaped out and waded through a copse of trees, holding his phone up to compare his reference picture. Dean popped the Impala's trunk and pulled out a machete.
"This one!" Sam called.
Glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses, Dean strode over and quickly hacked off a couple branches. Then he hurriedly returned the machete to the trunk and got behind the wheel again, while Sam pulled out a knife and started sharpening their stakes.
A couple minutes later, Dean slowed the car to glide through the intersection Bobby had mentioned, eyes peeled for a burnt bush. There wasn't one, though there was a group of people gathered outside a bar, examining what looked like a regular shrub. Someone had a hose ready while another was poking it with a crowbar. It wasn't on fire anymore, and if it had been, not a single leaf looked singed.
Dean smacked the steering column. Cas wouldn't be here. But Dean's arm was still thrumming… They had to be close, dammit!
Sam's brow furrowed in a deep frown as he consulted his phone again. "There are some warehouses a few blocks away, probably the closest place that'd be good to stash someone." He glanced at Dean hesitantly. "Think that could be it?"
Dean knew what his brother was asking—was Dean's internal Cas-radar pointing that direction? But the damn connection wasn't that specific. Still, they had nothing else to go on. "Which way?"
"Turn right."
Dean did so, trying to simultaneous tap into this weird connection he felt while keeping his attention on the road. Sam started shifting in his seat, twisting until he could reach into his back pocket and pull out a lighter, which he then stared at thoughtfully.
"Want to share with the class, Sammy?"
"Bobby didn't find mention of special blood for the stake," Sam began. "But we know Hel's nature is ice, and what's the opposite of that?"
Dean nodded along. "So we stab the bitch and light her on fire." Great, they had a plan. Now they just needed to home in on a location.
As they drove past a row of warehouses, Dean's stomach lurched violently. He pulled the car over before he accidentally crashed them, and forced himself to inhale steadily through his nose.
"Dean?"
"He has to be close, Sam." Dean's voice rose an octave; he knew they were getting closer, but it wasn't enough.
Come on, Cas, send up another flare, another burning bush, anything.
Sam opened his door and slid out. "Let's check them all."
Dean didn't have a better plan, and so followed. They split up, each armed with a wooden stake and lighter. Some of the warehouses looked to be in use, but a few others at the end of the block looked dilapidated and abandoned, so they focused their search there first. Dean strode as quickly and covertly as he could around the perimeter, peering through oxidized or broken windows. So far everything looked quiet and empty. He reached up to rub his arm, wincing as the scar felt oddly cold. And the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was finally settling, which was not at all reassuring.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Dean drew it out to glance at the message. "Second building, round back." Dean turned and ran.
He found Sam positioned outside a steel door, a grim look on his face.
"I saw glowing light, but that's it," Sam explained.
Dean gripped his stake in a white-knuckled hand. 'Glowing' light was not the same thing as exploding light, which was how angels died. He nodded to Sam, who turned the handle as quietly as he could, and pulled the door open with a creak. They swept inside, years of hunting giving them synchronized movements. The immediate interior was dim and dingy, full of old machinery covered in an inch of dust. The Winchesters checked the perimeter before regrouping at a corridor that led to another section of the warehouse. A pale bluish light was emanating from within. Dean swallowed hard, and after exchanging a look with Sam, they charged forward.
Dean froze for a split moment when he spotted the hell-bitch kneeling on the floor over a prone Cas. She had a hand pressed against his chest, holding him down, and a bright blue halo was glowing around her fingers and Cas's torso. There were a bunch of runes gleaming on her arms that hadn't been there before, and Dean realized with horror that she was sucking out Cas's grace. Both he and Sam surged forward at the same time.
Hel whipped her head up. Letting out a snarl, she leaped to her feet and waved her hand, which sent both Winchesters flying through the air. Dean hit the ground with a grunt, and fought to blink a series of black spots from his vision. He staggered upright as Hel advanced on him. The light encasing Cas had vanished, but from what Dean could see, the kid wasn't moving. At all.
Dean pushed himself up, but before he could raise his stake, Hel grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tossed him aside again. Pain radiated up his shoulder as he landed hard, but he was on his feet again a second later. Dean saw Sam trying to sneak up behind the goddess, so Dean flung himself forward, willing to take more pain if it gave Sam an opening.
Hel ducked his swipe and swung around to grab his throat, knocking his stake out of his hand with her other arm. Dean latched onto her wrist and tried to pry it loose, but she was too strong. He struggled as she squeezed. Any time now…
Hel jerked and dropped Dean. He stumbled backwards as the hag half turned, revealing a wooden stake sticking out of the center of her back. Sam stood on the other side, lighter in hand. With a click, he ignited the flame and set it to the wood, which went up in an instant whoosh. Hel screamed and flailed her arms wildly. Dean jumped out of the way, while Sam scooped up the second stake and drove it into the goddess's chest for good measure. The shriek that ripped from her throat rattled the windows, and the smell of charcoal and ozone filled the air.
Dean spun away from the sight and scrambled toward Cas, falling to the floor beside the kid. "Cas?" Dean's voice cracked as he took in Cas's pale complexion, blue lips, and sightless eyes staring up at nothing. Frozen tear tracks had left ice crystals down the kid's face, and Dean's heart clenched. He took the small shoulders and shook them lightly. Cas was like a block of ice.
No, not like this. Not when they'd finally found him. "Cas!"
Hel's dying screams had faded, leaving the world to narrow to just Cas lying lifeless in front of Dean. He slipped an arm under Cas's rigid shoulders, elevating him a fraction. A bitter chill seeped through his clothes at the contact, making him shudder.
"Come on, Cas. I got you. It's okay now." Dean felt hot moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. Sam's presence hovered over them, his grief a tangible throb that made Dean want to scream and punch something if not for the fragile body in his arms. He ran a thumb over Cas's cheek, wiping away one of the tear tracks. How terrified Cas must have been, wondering where Dean was, when the hunter was going to come rescue him.
Cas's eyelids slowly shuttered in a blink. Then again.
Dean's voice hitched. "Cas?" He pulled the kid further into his arms.
Cas blinked once more, gaze gradually focusing. Fear flashed through those blue eyes until they seemed to recognize the Winchesters. And then without a sound, Cas rolled onto his side and curled against Dean. The shock of Cas's icy body sent a jolt through him, but he instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around the angel.
"Sam, he's freezing."
Sam shrugged out of his jacket and knelt down to help wrap Cas in it without jostling the kid too much. Cas didn't make any kind of noise, or look at them; he just kept his face buried in Dean's shirt. Dean lifted him up, cradling him close and angling Cas away from the sight of Hel's gangrene corpse. Sam ducked in to get the car keys from Dean's pocket, and then they made their way out, urgency driving their hurried pace. They'd gotten Cas back, but was it in time?