A/N: So sorry for the long delay but the new chapter is (finally) here. It took me a while to get through this one and I deeply appreciate your patience. A warm welcome back to returning readers and a special welcome to new ones! Your positivity and commentary continues to inspire and motivate me; once again I cannot convey how happy it makes me that this story is enjoyed.
Content/context note: There is reference to events that we heard about very, very briefly back in Chapter 9 with Cas. Everything is explained here and there is no need to re-read but that's where it began developing for anyone who was wondering.
( ) ( ) ( )
Back at the room, despite the late hour, the Winchesters and the trusty angel were talking through the newest development. Cas proposed that the most likely scenario was that Michael's grace was acting as a kind of conduit between Dean and Heaven. Still left in question, however, was why it was only working now. For how many months had the grace been in Dean? And only now it started attracting angel radio? It was too coincidental- it didn't make sense. Sam rubbed his hands while sitting at the small table and tried generating questions that would help lead them to answers.
"Have things been busy in Heaven? Would there be any reason for Dean to be hearing things now?"
Cas all but shrugged.
"Not that I've been aware of. There's been tension, sure. But nothing that would explain why Dean would be connected now." Cas looked to Dean, directing a new line of questions towards him. "Were you able to make out anything? Any voices or words...anything at all?"
"Just static." Dean offered his one comment but his face turned to a questioning glance. "Well...Sam and I stopped to get coffee and I was kinda spaced out. I thought maybe it was a fit. Felt like I was underwater- everything got fuzzy. But the humming...I guess it could have been a word? Something like…" Dean thought for a moment, his eyes closing briefly as if it would help him to pronounce the foreign sounds. "Nir-y-u-ham…?" He questioned it himself. "Seriously, it really just sounded like a low drone."
"Are you sure? Niryuham? That's what you heard?" Cas' voice suddenly became darker.
"No, Cas. I'm not sure of any of this." Dean retorted.
Breaking the flare of tension, Sam interrupted.
"Let's say that's what he heard. What does that mean?"
Cas shuffled, indicating uneasiness.
"It means 'to extract.' It's a branch of ancient Tocharian; any angel using that language isn't expecting it to be heard."
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean prodded.
"I'm gonna go ahead and guess, 'nothing good.'" Sam answered, for show.
"Angels will speak in many languages but Enochian is our primary means of mass-communication. A way of indicating that everyone should be listening. If that word, in that language, is what Dean heard, then I fear it means Heaven has dissenters. Someone is looking to keep information private, keep it to themselves."
"Fan-friggin-tastic. Cause angels with secret-agendas are sure to make our lives easier." Dean smiled a toothless, facetious grin and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Well it appears that the angels aren't the only ones with secret agendas." Cas' voice was clearly implying something and his pointed look towards Dean did nothing to convince the hunters otherwise.
"What did you just say?" Dean bit back.
"Nothing. Never mind." Cas hardly meant it.
"What's with the attitude?" Dean pressed.
"Every time you need me, I'm here. So perhaps-just this once-we can forgive my shortcomings." Cas stepped in towards Dean and the tension only continued to rise.
"What the hell is up your ass today?" Dean spat.
Finally interrupting, Sam practically had to put his hands up to remind them this shouldn't be a fight.
"Guys! This is pointless." Despite the fact that Sam attempted to be a voice of reason, Cas still looked hurt.
Dean took a breath and seemed to calm, looking around the room and reminding himself of the real issues at hand.
"Sam's right. Let's just put our heads down and figure this out." Dean conceded.
Cas remained silent. The stiffness in his body released, and he was now standing calmly-tie a bit ruffled as always. Noting the fact that Cas had yet to give in, Dean shrugged and held out his one good arm to indicate he was confused and exasperated by the angel's stubbornness.
"What?" Dean's voice was tired. He was no longer angry, no longer upset. All he wanted was to find a way to recover.
"You're walking again." Cas stated plainly. "Your leg is better." He specified. Taking a breath, the angel immediately released it as a disappointed sigh. "You didn't tell me."
Putting it together, Dean became a little softer and bowed his head in embarrassment. So that was it. Dean hadn't bothered to share that his leg had improved and Castiel was feeling excluded, marginalized, and just plain hurt. Sam stayed quiet in his seat and attempted to be a fly on the wall so that Dean and Cas could reconcile from the brief, albeit potent little spat.
"I was gonna tell you, I was. But I wasn't sure it was gonna stick and it woulda been worse if I told you and then we went back to square one." Dean took a breath. "I can't trust anything these days. Not really. And I guess I kinda put you in that category too. But that's not fair, I know. I'm working on it. Okay?"
Cas nodded, suddenly uncomfortable at the tension he'd created. Memories from months ago surfaced in the angel's mind; how his mere presence caused Dean unease and embarrassment, sometimes even physical pain. Never had the divide between angel and human felt so strong, and never had Cas felt such self-hatred. The wedge that had been driven between them was easily lessening over the past few weeks. Still, there was an underlying sense of betrayal from both parties. For Dean, he resented Cas' angelic nature; how could his friend be the same kind of creature that had so destroyed him? Why did Cas' grace have to cause Dean so much discomfort? For Castiel, he felt so rejected. In Dean's struggle, Cas had been largely precluded from helping; Dean was too sensitive, too embarrassed, too ashamed to let the angel in. How could that be after all they'd been through? The hunter and the angel were working through their changed relationship, but it was not without roadblocks. For now, however, they shelved disagreement and went back to the much larger, more pressing issues at hand.
"So is there any way for Dean to control this? I mean can he turn it on and off?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, I wasn't really into the whole banshee-screaming-in-my-head thing."
"Angels can turn it on and off but…" Cas trailed off and gestured with his hands that he was at a loss.
"Not an angel." Dean finished for him, pointing to himself.
"Cas, is there any recon you could do? Figure out if this was triggered by something?" Sam spoke softly from his place at the small table.
"Certainly. I'll 'work the case' so to speak." Cas gave a small grin at his attempts to lighten the moment and was rewarded with Dean's smile.
"Look at that! Gettin' the gang back together!" Dean was in relatively high spirits now, but still wanted some clarification from their angel. "So if bells and whistles start goin' off again how do I mute it?"
"Focus on other things; sights, smells, try to hear what Sam is saying, or what other noises you know you should be hearing. The goal is to get your mind to change tracks; to focus on your sensory input and not Heaven's."
Dean nodded generically and Cas disappeared from the room.
The boys spent a minute trying to process all that had transpired before eventually concluding that the moment was better off abandoned. Things had happened too fast and been too overwhelming to process so quickly. Making a joke of it while also signaling that they move on, Dean's voice broke the brief silence.
"So if I get their signal do you think they get mine? You think Heaven wants a Foreigner home-concert?" Dean gave a flippant grin and Sam gave one back.
"Just when we thought it couldn't get any wilder." The younger man sighed.
"Hey, speak for yourself. I wake up every day thankful that I don't have…"
Sam looked on, prompting Dean to finish the thought he clearly hadn't planned out.
"Pigeons flyin' outta my ass? I don't know! You get the point."
Sam raised his eyebrows with a grin.
"All I'm sayin' is that I'm so so so so so very used to things being a cluster that this just doesn't seem that bad." Dean threw up his hand in a casual gesture and pulled the comforter of his bed downwards.
Without more discussion for the evening (what was there possibly to say?) Sam and Dean put off all worry and responsibility until tomorrow.
( ) ( ) ( )
"Did you hear back?" Sam nagged.
"Are you planning on being this annoying the whole time?" Dean offered.
After spending the next morning driving around Red Cliff searching for anything remotely their brand of strange, the Winchester's had come up empty handed. Not only that, but they'd seen no sign of Nikki, and worse, hadn't heard from her. Real panic was beginning to bloom in the both of them- especially because they hadn't even found signs of a case that she hypothetically could have been working. So, about twenty minutes ago Dean had texted "Nikki" saying that he'd arrived in Colorado. Despite his rising panic, Dean attempted to keep his levity up and running. Sam, on the other hand, was anxious and distracted. With all-things-Nikki a dead end and the mysterious development of angel radio, Sam was uncomfortable to say the least.
In short, he didn't like it.
Didn't like the roads these signs were pointing towards.
He didn't like it at all.
Jarring the both of them was the vibrating of Dean's phone. Dean spoke the message aloud from the passenger seat.
"Knew you'd come to claim your prize. Meet me at 26 Canary St at 8."
Dean finished reading with a tone of equal worry and disgust.
"Sam, we have no idea what this is; this town is clean. I mean like crystal clean...Mr. Clean clean."
"I know. And the bar is low. I mean we've hunted before on-what? Hunches? Dead plants? But there's nothing here. There's no trace of anything."
"Hmmm." Dean's tone was marked with an underlying (and unusual) hint of curiosity.
"What?" Sam picked up on the moment without hesitation.
"Trace." Dean repeated the word as if it held meaning. "You just said there's no trace of a hunt."
"Yeah…" Sam struggled to find Dean's meaning.
"Maybe that's the clue. Maybe whatever we're dealing with wants to make sure that nothing weird goes down. Doesn't want any attention…"
"You think whatever's going on with Nikki is related?"
"And you don't?" Dean replied.
"Nothing about this feels right. Agreed."
"Good." Dean typed a quick message on his cell and Sam nearly let the car drift in his initial burst of fear and anger.
"What the hell are you doing?!" He demanded. "Did you agree to meet?"
"What else are we gonna do?" Dean countered, shifting in his seat.
"Call Cas for one-see if he found anything."
"If he had he wouldda let us know." Dean bit back, a little harsher than he intended.
"Dean, you were hearing angels talking in your head last night. An old friend materializes from out of the blue, works a non-existent case, and is sending you phantom text messages. But no, let's go blindly meet whatever trap's in store for us." Sam's gaze returned to the road, too shaken to truly argue.
Rather than initiating a further debate, Dean took a breath and put himself in his brother's shoes.
It was one thing to have your life turned upside down.
It was entirely different to have to not only live that change, but watch it too.
Not 24 hours ago Sam had watched Dean hear the words on High; hear Heaven's voicemail. Situation reversed- Dean watching Sam get sucked into an abyss of mysterious angel crap?- he'd be scared shitless.
"Sam." Dean began, his tone low. "We'll work it. Just like always. Angel Radio, Nikki...We'll figure it out. Together."
It was what Dean could muster and about the only comforting truth he could generate. He didn't know how they'd do all this and he didn't know at what cost answers would come, but trying was just about all they had left.
"You're right. Let's do a little more recon."
"Alright well the town's pretty empty. Maybe we should poke around a little further away, see if we can't find something a little more obvious."
Sam raised his eyebrows in general agreement and turned the car around accordingly.
"Did any of her texts say where she was staying?" Sam asked, eyes fixed on the road.
"No...just that she had a room. Of course 'she' isn't really Nikki, and none of the places in town even have any record of her."
Dean's tone was quickly turning sour and Sam didn't have to guess why. In fact, he was surprised at how long his brother had kept it together. Between his leg, angel radio and Nikki, it was a miracle he'd managed to stay afloat this long. Sam knew that it was only a matter of time before it began to overwhelm Dean. Driving a little out of town they stopped by a few places; church, police station, hell they even eyeballed the grocery store. All fronts were quiet, calm and normal; it only added to their trepidation.
"Squeaky friggin clean. Again." Dean's patience was growing dangerously thin and his arm was growing increasingly tense. Sam noticed the change in his brother's posture and behavior-little adjustments that were imperceptible to anyone but Sam.
"Let's find the closest hotel and see if they got a record of Nikki." Dean didn't pose any alternatives and Sam didn't dare address his shoulder.
Continuing to drive, after about half an hour, they eventually found a small lodge. Just like every place they'd been to, it was eerily quiet. Two other cars sat in the lot-parked on opposite sides. There was a middle-aged man smoking, leaning against the west side of the building. No lights were on in the rooms visible to them, and there was hardly even a hum of an ice machine. Sam's spidey senses tingled as they parked and at the same moment, Dean went rigid next to him. The sudden onset of the seizure caught Sam off guard for a fraction of a second. Reaching out to Dean, he went to lean his brother away from the passenger side window. Shocking him much more than the seizure was the fact that Dean's eyes were alert and roaming; he was very clearly conscious. More than that, he was turning his head towards the leather of the seat, almost as if to bury his head into it. Simultaneously, Dean was trying to talk. Mindful of how unsafe he felt, Sam attempted to help his brother without losing sight of the fact that they were in a potentially lethal situation. They had no idea what was going on in this town and that vulnerability made Sam terrified.
"Dean? Dean-HEY!"
Dean's good hand got brought up to the ear not pressed against the seat and Sam finally realized: it was angel radio again.
"Do you hear it? Dean?!" Sam spoke loudly to counteract the high volume of Heaven's frequency.
"H-here." Dean hiccuped, still searching for comfort in the seat.
"You hear the angels?" Sam asked.
"HERE. She's h-here. S'he's not d-dead."
"Nikki?"
In a split second of distraction-the split second he'd taken to try and understand Dean's point-Sam had let his guard down. Dean's eyes widened in panic as the man who'd been smoking began to approach their car. Still in pain, Dean curled further into the bench seat but still managed to cry out a warning to Sam.
"D-DDRIVE."
Sam's instincts took over and he threw the car into reverse before he'd even laid eyes on the approaching man. Squealing out of the parking lot, Dean threw his arm out to Sam.
"Cas?" Dean asked, though clearly not to Sam. "Cas I can't… too many friggin sounds. Cas I can't hear you. Just GET DOWN HERE."
All Sam could do was listen; listen and hope that the next hour would bring much-needed answers.
( ) ( ) ( )
Cas had materialized in the backseat of the Impala and was able to talk Dean through turning off angel radio once again. Knowing that Dean was drained, Sam insisted they wait to get back to the room before troubleshooting the situation. By the time they were back at the motel it was blatantly obvious that Dean was at the end of his rope. His arm was taught and pressed snuggly against his chest, his movements slower and more deliberate, and most of all his eyes were wild with overstimulation. While the memory pained him, Sam couldn't help but think back to when Dean had been turned into a vampire. Due to his soulless nature at the time, the memory was clouded with shame; still, Dean's current panicked demeanor was reminiscent of that time.
Finally settling on the end of the bed, Dean closed his eyes briefly and barked at Cas to fill them in. Cas himself was frazzled, his tie loose and his stance wary. Stepping into the role of moderator despite his own distractedness, Sam intervened.
"Dean got another text from the number telling us to meet tonight. We've been driving around in circles all day but this town doesn't even have a cat up a tree." Sam explained.
"What?" Cas inquired, tilting his head in concern for something vital he missed.
"It's an expression, Cas. There's no cat." Dean's tone was growing bitter.
"So we found nothing except for when Dean-"
"When my head just about split open and some guy made a beeline over to the car. And then you went all bullhorn in my head." Dean interrupted Sam's explanation and stood to confront Cas though his stance was not adversarial. "Please tell us you got something." The older man pleaded.
Sam took a moment to process that Cas had been the one-or at least one of the voices-that Dean had been hearing in the car. In that case, Cas most definitely knew something. Proving Sam's theory correct was the worried, knowing expression on the angel's face.
"You remember how I told you an archangel death creates an energy shift?" Cas asked, clearly beginning with broad information.
"Yeah. What you've been dealing with in Heaven for the last six months." Dean parroted back.
"Exactly. Most everything has settled down but there was an angel that had been problematic. The others thought it'd been taken care of but I wasn't so sure. When you started hearing Heaven I went searching for him."
"Who is he?" Sam asked.
"His name is Zadkiel. After Michael's death he had been vying for power. I'd been keeping an eye on him but others assured me he wasn't a threat."
Cas took a breath.
"But then I heard him. Earlier at the lodge. His voice. He's been trying to find you. He thought he could try and tap into your signal, so to speak. But he can't always control who hears what."
"What was he saying?" Sam specified.
"What were they saying." Cas corrected with gravity.
"They?" Dean's voice was thick with concern.
Both Winchesters subconsciously leaned in towards Cas.
"More angels have joined him, they're supporting his cause."
"His cause?" Sam repeated with confusion.
"Cas. English, please. What the hell does this mean?" Dean prodded.
"They want his grace." Cas paused and swallowed before repeating himself. "Zadkiel and his followers want what's left of Michael's grace."
( ) ( ) ( )
The ugly green room had manifested into a headquarters of chaos as Sam, Dean, and Cas attempted to parse out the situation they found themselves faced with. And on top of their own danger, there was also Nikki's safety to consider. As much as getting to her was at the forefront of Dean's mind, he knew that he and Sam would be no good to her if they were walking, talking angel-magnets. They also wouldn't be of much help if they were dead. From what the brothers could comprehend of Castiel's hurried and abbreviated story, Zadkiel and his band of brothers were on a mission to retrieve the last remaining remnant of Michael's grace-the very same grace that was in Dean.
"Not that it'll ever get this far but…" Sam took a breath. "But if Zadkiel got his hands on the grace, what is he planning on doing with it?"
"I don't know for certain. It wouldn't be enough grace to power him fully. I can only imagine that he plans to use it as some kind of bargaining card."
"Chip." Dean corrected. "So this angel Zadkiel…?" Dean prompted Cas for a response.
"He's leading a group of angels, yes. They're searching for you, Dean."
"If the angels wanted to find us why did they wait this long?" Sam asked.
Cas paced around the room a bit, seemingly confused himself.
"I'm not sure. It's possible that Michael's grace is hiding itself- shielding you both from being found. But more likely…" Cas paused briefly. "More likely is that they fear Dean is able to harness the power."
Unexpectedly, Dean let out a breathy chuckle.
"Oh yeah...Watch out, here comes Dean Winchester all jacked up on angel juice."
"Dean, this is serious." Cas cut in.
"Yeah, I'm gathering that." Dean replied dryly. "Was kinda the first to know."
Cas swallowed and shifted his weight, a little regretful but not quite remorseful.
"So they have Nikki. That's their leverage." Dean spoke the conclusion that thus far they'd all been too hesitant to verbalize. "This is all my fault. If I'd never said yes to Michael-"
"Stop. Dean, stop it." Sam's tone was beyond serious, it was practically dictatorial. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to believe that. Not now, not ever. Do you understand?"
"Spare me the lecture, Sam. Nikki's in trouble because of me and-"
"No. No, you're not doing this! Forget about you, forget about Nikki. You're not doing this to me. Me. I'm making this about me and I say you're not allowed to say that. Because if you believe it then everything we've done, everything I've done has been for nothing. And I won't accept that. So no, Dean, failure is not an option. Get used to it."
Sam turned on his heels and left the room but neither Dean nor Cas heard the car's engine.
Silence hung once again and Cas opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut in before Cas could form the words.
"I know. I know he's right." Dean let out a breath and rubbed his face before raising his voice to a high volume. "SAM! Quit sulking outside the door and get back in here." Dean's tone gave all indication that he was in surrender and soon enough Sam marched back into the room.
"I made my point?" Sam sent Dean a bitchy glare which the older brother kindly returned.
"Yeah, Council. You can rest your case." With that, the tension released and game faces resumed.
"So. Let's find them. I'm not waiting around to meet on their terms." Sam spoke with unwavering determination.
"Our rules." Dean added.
"Let's get this son of a bitch." Cas' comment, while it normally would have turned heads and raised eyebrows, was inspiring. It seemed as if Cas-just like Sam-was filling Dean's role.
And so the three of them sat in the small room, plotting and planning Nikki's rescue, waiting for the moment they would face the angels.
( ) ( ) ( )
"Warehouse. An abandoned warehouse. You'd think someone, sometime would wanna be original." Dean's tone was especially dry.
"Angels are not particularly known for their creativity." Cas pointed out.
"Guys." Sam's interruption caused both of them to look at him. Sam then gestured his head towards two shadows moving against the side of the building.
"What time is it?" Sam asked.
"Seven." Dean replied. "If they're here I say we make our move. Cas?" Dean extended the idea to their friend-wanting his opinion.
"Zadkiel isn't one for surprises." Cas' statement was delivered with an edge of humor as he glanced between the two men, knowing the three of them would initiate a siege. Smiling, Dean gave the go-ahead.
"Let's save the girl."
Each armed with an angel blade, Team Free Will walked head-on into a fight they knew they might very well lose; exactly the way they liked it. Odds stacked against them was always how they'd succeeded and they had no reason to believe this time would be any different. The two figures patrolling the outside looked directly at the three of them approaching and Dean shouted out to them while continuing to advance towards the warehouse.
"Gig's up, fellas. Go tell your boss the man of the hour is here."
One of the men glared at Cas-the tilt of his head combative.
"Castiel. Why am I not surprised…"
"A side effect of loyalty is predictability I suppose. Wouldn't expect that you'd understand, working for the highest bidder and all."
Sam couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised at their angel's sass. Making a step forward, both of the enemy angels were clearly moved towards violence. Dean's slow, stern voice stopped them- their expressions disproportionately fearful.
"I said to tell General Zod there that we're here. Go."
For whatever reason, the two obeyed. At their departure, Dean shot a worried look to his companions.
"We can check that off the list." Dean said quietly.
"They're scared." Sam observed.
"They do believe you can control Michael's grace." Cas parroted.
"You think they have Nikki here?" Sam asked.
"For her sake, I hope not." Dean's voice had fallen to a whisper and it was clear that he was trying his best not to let anxiety rule his frame of mind.
Before the trio could discuss any further, a new angel appeared at the entrance to the warehouse-a woman this time. Wordlessly, she gestured for them to follow her.
The warehouse, unsurprisingly, was as grimey, dank, oppressive, and eerie as any other abandoned dwelling. Rounding a corner, the little reserve and stoicism that Dean had was washed away by the sight of a bruised Nikki, gagged and tied to a chair- her feet in a shallow puddle. Standing beside her was a tall, slender man dressed in shades of form-fitting grey linen.
Zadkiel.
"Hello, Dean. Let's talk."