Kevin was missing and Sam had gotten worse. He wasn't sleeping or eating and his temperature was steadily climbing. Add in the fact that Mack had barely left her room since they returned to the bunker, and Dean was at his wits end. When he tried to help Sam, though, the younger Winchester attempted to blow him off. "Enough, Dean. Please." Dean sighed, staring at his brother. "The bloody handkerchiefs, the fever, the shaky legs…" he trailed off, "this is not good." Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not good. And I'm not going to be good until we can start moving again. Until I can start the third trial."
"Trial?" Dean echoed. "I wouldn't let you start a moped. We're on the rails with this thing, okay, and the only way out of it is through it, believe me, I know. And you know how bad I wanna slam the door on all those sons of bitches. But you gotta let me take care of you man. You gotta let me help you get your strength back. 'Cause I gotta do something since Mack won't come out of her room."
"This isn't a cold. Or a fever, or whatever it is you're supposed to feed," Sam argued. "This is part of it all. Those first two trials… they're not just things I did. They're doing something to me. They're changing me, Dean." Dean sighed, reaching into his pocket as his phone buzzed. He'd gotten an email from Kevin. "It's Kevin," he told Sam. "Finally." Dean grabbed the laptop, opening the email. It just said 'WATCH THIS VIDEO NOW' with a link. He clicked on it and the video message started playing.
"Sam, Dean. I've set this message with some software on a remote server so it'd send itself to you if I didn't reset it with a command once a week. Which means I didn't reset it this week. And there's only one reason I wouldn't. Which means if you're watching this, then I… the I- I'm dead," Kevin said. Dean clenched his jaw and Sam glanced at him as Kevin continued. "I'm dead, you bastards! So screw you, screw God and everybody in between!" There was a beat of silence. "Crowley must've gotten to me. And the one thing I know is I won't break this time. Not sure how I know, but- but I do. I've been uploading all my notes, the translations, I'm sending you links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I'm sorry."
Kevin started tearing up. "I know it was my job, but I- but I couldn't…" he paused. "I'm sorry." The video ended. Dean angrily swiped a stack of books off the table. "Damn it!" he yelled. He put his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as he stared down at the floor. Sam clicked out of the video, opening up a second email with the links Kevin had sent of his notes. "Dad?" Dean and Sam both looked over to see Mack hovering in the doorway to the library. "W-what happened?" she asked, staring at the mess Dean had made. "Um…" Dean swallowed, glancing sidelong at Sam. "Kevin… he… he sent a message… he said Crowley got to him."
Mack chewed her lip, processing. "Is he dead?" Dean drew in a deep breath, nodding slowly, before letting the breath out again. "Okay," Mack whispered, turning away. "Wait, bug. I-" Dean cut off as she looked back at him. "Um, w-what's going on? H-how are you doing?" Mack swallowed, looking down. "I, um…" she took a deep breath, clicking her tongue as she looked up at him, "I'll be in my room." She walked off without another word. Dean hung his head, closing his eyes and biting his lip at the onslaught of tears.
Down the hall, Mack closed her bedroom door with a soft click, pressing her back against it and sinking down to the floor. "Cas, I don't know if you're listening, but if you are, we need you," she prayed. "Kevin's gone; Crowley killed him… Uncle Sammy is getting worse with these trials, and Dad… He needs you more than the rest of us do. He still loves you, I know he does. I… I know you're trying to keep the Tablet away from… from N-Naomi… but, um… you gotta come back now. We can help you. Please, Cas. You're family."
Cas heard Mack's prayer, but didn't do anything to respond. He had been constantly moving around for he didn't know how long now, transporting himself from Biggerson's restaurant to Biggerson's restaurant all over the country. They were all the same- colors, layout everything. The location was the only change. That sameness and the fact that he picked new locations randomly and changed at regular intervals was what was keeping him ahead of the angels- ahead of Naomi.
He wanted to listen to Mack. To go to her and Dean, but he couldn't. The second he went somewhere other than a Biggerson's restaurant, the angels would be able to converge on his location and get the Tablet. Santa Fe, New Mexico… Palm Bay, Florida… Denver, Colorado… Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania… Portland, Oregon… St. Louis, Missouri… Bangor, Maine… Lincoln, Nebraska… Reno, Nevada… Tucson, Arizona… Back to Santa Fe… Wait.
Cas looked down at the coffee cup on the table in front of him. The table was smeared with blood. He surveyed the restaurant, which was littered with bloody bodies. "You have to stop," a voice choked out. Cas turned, spotting the waitress who'd brought him his coffee crumpled against one of the booths. Her eyes had been burned out. "They said you have to stop," she continued weakly. "No," Cas breathed. "They said you have to stop," she repeated. "No." Cas moved toward her. "Just stop… You have to stop…"
"No."
"You have to stop." Cas reached out a hand to heal her. "They said you have to stop." Ion- Naomi's right hand- and another angel appeared behind Cas, Ion pressing his angel blade to his throat. "You have to stop," the waitress repeated. "You have to stop. You have to stop. They said you-" Naomi snapped her fingers, breaking the waitress' neck. "Can't hear myself think."
"We were supposed to be their shepherds, not their murderers," Cas said, fighting against the two angels holding him down in a chair. "Not always, angel. There was that day, back in Egypt, not so long ago, where we slew every first-born infant who's door wasn't splashed with lamb's blood. And that was just PR." Naomi smirked. "Well, I wasn't there," Cas replied. "Oh, you were there. You just don't remember it."
A terrifying thought crossed Cas' mind, making him freeze up. "How- how many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?" Naomi scoffed, "Frankly? Too damn many." She snapped her fingers again, making one of the chairs slide over to her and took a seat across from him. "You're the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told. Not completely. It got worse when you were assigned to be that little bitch's guardian angel and ordered to save her father from Hell. You don't even die right, do you? Where is the Angel Tablet, Castiel?"
"In the words of a- good friend… bite me."
"Oh, we'll bite. Don't worry." Naomi turned to Ion and the other angel. "Go. Search all these Biggerson's. He must have hidden it along the way."
Sam had found a 'petroglyph' in Kevin's notes that roughly translated to 'Messenger of God'. The glyph belonged to a tiny tribe in Colorado, so they headed to the Two Rivers Hotel off Route 34. Upon arrival, Sam became even more delirious than before, going on about some pack-mule ride he and Dean went on when they were little. While he rested in their room, Dean and Mack headed downstairs to question the hotel clerk. "The people of the Two Rivers came to this land centuries ago," the clerk told them. "A land that was harsh, and stony. But the mighty leader told his people that they must stay here. He claimed that this was the home on Earth of the great spirit's sacred messenger, and that if they'd make offerings, their blessings would be many."
"What were the offerings?" Dean asked. "Huh?" the clerk blinked in confusion. "Uh, what did the great spirit's sacred messenger ask for?" Dean clarified. "Stories. He asked the people to tell him stories." Mack nudged Dean, subtly nodding at an old picture behind the counter where the clerk looked exactly the same as he did presently. "I bet I know what the blessings were." Dean's phone rang then. "Sam?" he asked. "Sammy?... Sam." He bolted from the room without waiting on Mack. She thanked the clerk, heading back at a little slower of a pace than her father.
When she got to the room, Sam was drenched with a towel around his shoulder. "He's here, Dean," he was telling her father. "Metatron is here, I know it, I can hear him." Dean shook his head, "What're you talking about?" Mack chewed her lip, staring back and forth between the brothers. "All I know is that I'm connected to it somehow," Sam replied. "What, like you got a link to him, like a Prophet?" Mack piped up. "I don't know! I just know he's here. Metatron is here."
"Okay, 'here', where?" Dean asked. "I can show you. I can show you. The manager. He was delivering books to him."
"Books?"
"Books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, novels- books."
"Stories," Mack translated, sharing a look with Dean. They followed Sam out into the hall, heading in the direction he claimed he'd seen the manager leaving the books. Sam was stumbling, using the doorpost as a temporary crutch. "We should be taking you to the ER," Dean grumbled. "They can't do anything for me," Sam dismissed him. "You know, I've been remembering things, little things, so clearly-"
"What, donkey rides?"
"You used to read to me, um, when I was little, I- I mean, really little, from that- from that old, uh- Classics illustrated comic book. You remember that?" Dean glanced over at Mack like she'd have answers. "No."
"Knights of the Round Table," Sam continued as if Dean hadn't spoken. "Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were on a quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and- and light streaming over his face, and- I remember… thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w- I was just a little kid. Younger than Kinley. You think… maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that- I had… demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm- wasn't pure?"
"Sam, it's not your fault," Dean assured him. "It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials… they're purifying me." They came to stop at the end of the hallway, and Sam looked around, spinning frantically. "They were here, the- the- the books, the boxes! They- they're gone." Mack glanced over at her father, opening the door they were standing in front of. Inside, there were thousands of books piled on nearly every inch of the floor and on countless shelves further back. As they rounded the corner of one of the piles, a mousy man with dark curly hair aimed a rifle in their faces. Dean immediately pushed Mack behind him protectively.
"Who're you?" the man demanded. "Metatron. This is Metatron?" Dean looked over at Sam. "This is Metatron?" The angel suddenly appeared behind them, prompting Dean to move Mack once more. "Sit down," Metatron instructed. They did, Sam taking a seat in a hard chair while Dean sat in a plush armchair and Mack perched on the armrest. "Who sent you?" Metatron asked. "We came on our own," Sam half-shouted. "We're the Winchesters."
"I'm Dean, this is Sam, and my daughter Mack," Dean introduced them. "You work for Michael? Or Lucifer?" Metatron pressed. "What, you really haven't heard of us?" Mack raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What kind of angel are you, we're- we're the freaking Winchesters," Sam added, still shouting. "Michael and Lucifer? T-those- those dudes are in the deep fryer," Dean informed him. "Yeah. We put them there ourselves," Sam said. "What about Gabriel? And Raphael?" Metatron pressed. "Dead," Mack answered.
"You really don't know this?" Dean asked. "I've been very careful," Metatron shook his head. "Hey, can you-" Sam shouted, "can you turn that down?"
"Turn what dow- oh," Metatron's eyes widened. "You're resonating." He lowered his gun. "Resonating?" Dean echoed. "What- what do you mean, resonating?" The angel continued to look at Sam as he spoke. "You've undertaken the trials. You're trying to pull one of the great levers, aren't you? You're pretty far along, too. You get that far along, you start resonating with the Word. Or with its source on the material plane. With me." He continued to study Sam curiously.
"You said you were being careful," Mack said. "How?"
"I'm not one of them," Metatron looked over at her. "I'm not an archangel. Really more run-of-the-mill. I worked in the secretarial pool before God chose me to take down the Word. Anyway, he… seemed very worried about his work, what would happen to it when he left, so he had me write down some instructions. Then, he was gone. After that, the archangels took over." He pulled up another hard chair like Sam's taking a seat. "And they cried, and they wailed. They wanted their father back. I mean, we all did. But then… then they started to scheme. The archangels decided if they couldn't have Dad, they'd take over the universe themselves. But they couldn't do anything that big without the Word of God. So I began to realize, maybe they would realize… they needed me."
"So you get a ruffle in your feathers and just decide to disappear?" Dean snapped. "Go stick your head in the sand forever? You have no idea what's going on out there." Metatron shook his head, "Nope. That's the whole point." He paused, studying Dean with the same curious look he'd been giving Sam after realizing he was resonating. "What?"
"Nothing… You-" Metatron cut himself off. "Nevermind, it's nothing." Dean narrowed his eyes, "No, seriously. What is it?" The angel shook his head. "It's nothing, truly. I thought I sensed something off about your energy, but… I was wrong." Mack and Sam both looked over at Dean with concern. Dean clenched his jaw, wanting to know more, but realizing they didn't have the time. "So you have been holed up here, or, or, or in a wigwam, or before that in some cave, listening to stories, reading books?" he got back on topic.
"And it was something to watch," Metatron grinned. "What you brought to his Earth, all the mayhem, the murder. Just the raw, wild invention of God's naked apes… it was mind-blowing. But really… rally, it was your storytelling. That is the true flower of free will. At least as you've mastered it so far. When you create stories, you become gods, of tiny, intricate dimensions unto themselves. So many worlds! I have read… as much as possible for an angel to read, and I haven't caught up."
"You know what?" Sam paused a beat. "Pull the frigging trigger." Metatron blinked. "What?" Sam glared at him, "Pull the freaking trigger, you cowardly piece of garbage." Dean protested, "Sam. Hey!" Sam ignored him, getting up and grabbing the end of Metatron's rifle, pointing it at himself. "All the time you've been hiding in here, how much suffering have you read over? Humanity's suffering! And how much of it has been at the hands of your kind?!"
"C'mere, hey," Dean pushed Sam back, and then turned to face the angel. "You want a story? Try Kevin Tran's story. He was just a kid. He was a good, straight-A kid, and then he got sucked into all of this- this angel crap. He became a Prophet, of the Word of God. Your Prophet. Now, you should've been looking out for him, but no! Instead, you're here, holed up, reading books."
"He's dead now, because of you," Sam spat and Mack swallowed hard, looking down at her feet. There was a long pause as Metatron took in all three of their expressions, and then he waved a hand. Kevin suddenly appeared in the plush chair where Dean had been sitting, slumped down with bruises around his neck. The angel placed a glowing hand to Kevin's chest, healing the bruises. "Is that it? Is he good?" Dean asked.
"Give him a minute," Metatron answered, walking away. Dean followed him, leaving Sam and Mack with Kevin. "How did you get past Crowley's angel-warding?" he demanded. "I'm the Scribe of God. I erased it," Metatron shrugged like it was no big deal. "But you saw, right? I mean, you- you're caught up on everything that's been going on. All the crap that your brethren's been doing to humanity all this time?"
"I saved the boy, didn't I?"
"But are you in? With us, I mean," Dean pressed. "You really intend on closing the gates of Hell?" Metatron asked, studying him again. "Seems like the thing to do, don't it?" The angel inhaled deeply, "It's your choice. And that's what this has all been about, the choices your kind make. But you're gonna have to weigh that choice. Ask yourself: what is it going to take to do this, and what will the world be like after it's done?"
"Dad? Daddy!"
Dean turned, returning to where Mack and Sam were just as Kevin was stirring. "Kevin? Hey. I thought we lost you, kiddo." Kevin looked up at him. "I'm good," he pulled out half the Demon Tablet. "Second half of the Tablet. And I got it. Third trial. I didn't tell Crowley."
"So, what is it?" Sam asked. "To cure a demon," Metatron answered. "Yeah," Kevin nodded. "Who are you?"
Mack slept curled up between Sam and Dean in the front seat of the Impala. Dean had tried to convince her to lay in the back, but she insisted on being in the front so she could lean against his side. "Cure a demon," Dean frowned, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't disturb her. "Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we- if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and, and, and bumping into furniture?"
"I feel better, yeah, um, just having a direction to move in," Sam nodded. "Well, good, 'cause where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic," Dean sighed. "But we're heading somewhere. The end." Dean slammed on the brakes abruptly, one hand flying out to protect Mack, and he swerved to avoid hitting a figure lying in the middle of the road. As he did so, the headlights illuminated a bloodied Cas. "Oh, my God," Dean breathed. Leaving Mack laying in the car- miraculously still asleep despite the abrupt stop- he and Sam jumped out of the car. "Cas?" Dean called.
"A little help, here?" Cas coughed.