Then
Sam has been taken by Castiel to the building he and Crowley are using as headquarters during their search for Purgatory. Sam is restrained and held prisoner, which causes the wall hiding his Hell memories to begin to itch as uncomfortable moments hold vague memories that he just can't recall at the moment. His time in captivity leads him to see the similarities between Cas now, and how he behaved while hunting down Lilith, and this causes him to empathize with Cas. He tries to use that to establish some trust between himself and the angel, while Crowley receives a new guest for him and Cas to interrogate about Purgatory. Sam is left to adjust to his new situation alone, although makes a little headway to getting through to Cas.
Now
Notes:
Language Advisory* Just a minor heads up for some foul language. Nothing major, just a frustrated Winchester and an angry Singer, venting with some colorful language about their situation
Chapter Text
Dean drove, his foot pushing the gas pedal practically to the floor, watching the sun cross the sky and start to sink, the sky relatively clear so that stars were starting to appear in the sky, twinkling brightly as if nothing was wrong in the world at all. It irritated Dean. Maybe he is still just pissed about Sam's surprise stargazing trip being ruined, or maybe he is just pissed that something, anything, would have the audacity to be twinkling when Sam is in danger. When his life has once again been hijacked by angels for some grand plan. Dean has had his ups and downs with his belief in God, but if he is out there, that guy seriously needs to get a life, because Dean is sick and tired of these re-runs. In the seat next to him, Bobby has a map open, and is studying it intently, frowning to himself. Dean glances over, cracking a small, half-hearted smile, deciding to create a distraction from his worry for Sam and his fury at Cas.
"You know google maps is a thing right?" He jokes.
"Yeah, you idjit, I know. But that means using a phone, and phones can be tracked." Bobby says distractedly. Dean scoffs.
"Cas barely understands what a phone even is, let alone how to track one." He says dismissively.
"Maybe, but you can bet your sweet ass Crowley knows. Or has someone working for him who does." Bobby points out. Refusing to acknowledge Bobby had a point, Dean instead grins widely at him.
"You think my ass is sweet?" He asks innocently.
"Shut up." Bobby grumbles irritably. Dean smirks and Bobby sighs, setting the map aside and running a hand through his hair. "If you have to know, I was trying to narrow down the best way to get into the city. I know you boys love this car, but it is kind of conspicuous. My guess is Crowley or Castiel or both will have eyes looking out for a black chevy Impala at every major entrance to Bootbock." Dean throws a sharp glare at Bobby.
"If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting…" Dean says warningly.
"What, that it might be a better, safer idea for us to stash the Impala and sneak into the same city currently housing two power-hungry cosmic beings who are holding your brother hostage to prevent exactly what we are headed to that city to do?" Bobby asks drily. "No, why would I ever suggest something as crazy as that?"
"Well good." Dean says firmly, refusing to acknowledge the sarcastic tone of Bobby's voice, and took his words at face value. "Because Baby is Sam's family to and has every right to help bring him home. Now, what were you suggesting?" Bobby lets out a small, impatient huff, but he doesn't bother to fight Dean. He knows what the car means to both boys. He's watched Dean, the poster boy for repressed emotions, give the car more public affection than just about anything and everyone else in the boy's life, excluding his brother. And, though he is quieter about it, he has seen Sam's love for the old beast as well. The small, unconscious pats on the hood and roof every time he passes by, the small smile whenever he sinks into the passenger seat, the concerned, subtle glances he gives Baby whenever they leave the car behind that he thinks nobody else sees. Bobby even remembers how he and Dean had heard all about how the car had saved Sam from Lucifer, when, shortly after being re-souled, Sam gave them the full story of everything that happened from his point of view once he said yes to the devil, to the moment he jumped into the pit. So, deciding this wasn't a battle he was ever going to win, he ploughs on.
"I'm suggesting that you drop me off in another town in Kansas, I steal a car and follow you into Bootbock, so that if the demons or the angels spot you, you idjits have an escape route." Bobby says. Dean frowns thoughtfully.
"That's not a bad idea. What town were you thinking?" Dean asks.
"This place called Lebanon." Bobby points at a speck on the map. "Seems a decent distance away, that no cops should be looking for any stolen vehicles there." Dean nods his head in agreement.
"I have some spare plates in the trunk we can use as well, throw off any suspicion." Dean says. Bobby raises his eyebrows at Dean. "What?" He asks defensively. "Sometimes Sam and I need to, er, borrow a car or two."
"When did you start keeping spare plates?" Bobby asks, and Dean can't help smirk at the very non-judgmental, mildly impressed tone of the older hunter's voice.
"After that shapeshifter at the bank in Milwaukie, and Victor Hendrickson." Dean explains. "Sammy's idea." He chuckles. "You aren't wrong about Baby being easy to spot, so Sam… Sam thought it was best if we kept changing plates. Owning a classic car wasn't a crime, so either Hendrickson would have to waste his time following every single lead about a spotted sixty-seven impala in the country, or he would dismiss it as just not enough evidence to draw him into a town after us. Seemed to do the trick, he never found us because of the car at least." Dean's amusement fades as he thinks about Sam. Sometimes Dean forgot just how smart the kid was, the way he would pick up on the smallest details, think through the most unlikeliest outcomes and prepare for it, how he could think his way out of problems so fast Dean would barely have had time to realize what the problem was to begin with. His knowledge of lore and hunting was already encyclopedic, but combined with Sam's incredible ability to empathize, to relate to people, to spot patterns and read the subtlest of signs made him formidable. The best damn hunter Dean has ever seen, not that he would ever admit it out loud. Sure, Bobby and Dean and even John were all great hunters. Put a gun in their hand, or a knife, or a lore book, and they'll have whatever you need dead, dead in no time flat. But they were all hardened and jaded by the job. So emotionally calloused that each of them had lost important leads or alienated crucial witnesses to a hunt because of a harsh, unintended comment here, a too-cold approach there. They had all missed subtle, but massively important details to a hunt because of their arrogance and surety that they had all the answers, and a 'close enough' attitude when a hunt got too frustrating to work properly. Granted, Bobby was better than Dean or his dad had been when it came to that, but he was far from innocent in that either. But Sammy… innocent, selfless, compassionate Sammy, who radiated kindness and inquisitiveness, he was able to connect with the most withdrawn, terrified, grieving witnesses and survivors out there, and draw out every single needed detail. His sharp, but open minded approach to the supernatural let him connect dots any other hunter would overlook, and he never settled for 'close enough'. His curious nature wouldn't let him, as infuriating as it could be at times, and the kid's damn near impeccable moral compass, also infuriating at times, refused to let him give into the jaded, critical philosophy of hunting that Dean had seen so many other seasoned hunters fall into. Gordon Walker for one, Roy and Walt for two others. Sam saw the shades of grey where others only saw black and white, even Dean at times, and he has saved countless innocent lives that might have been lost otherwise. And Dean knows Sam doesn't see that, not anymore. Ruby, Azazel, Lilith, Lucifer, they have all stripped away any sense of confidence Sam had had in his ability to do good in the world. And the freaking angels hadn't helped either. Uriel, treating him like a freak. Zachariah, using him as a tool for his own purposes. Anna, trying to murder him. How can someone, especially someone like Sam who had genuinely believed in Heaven, and angels, and had genuine faith in their goodness, ever think they are doing good when the dicks with wings did everything in their power to convince them they were an abomination? And, Dean remembers with no small serving of guilt, he and Bobby weren't exactly innocent either. How many times has Dean tore Sam down over the whole Ruby thing? Beat his brother up, figuratively and literally, about his choices and decisions, when all he had been trying to do was save the world? Save Dean? Save as many damn people as he possibly could? Dean had thought about it a lot, Sam's time with Ruby, and his using his powers, his quest to kill Lilith, over his year with Lisa and Ben. During quiet nights where he couldn't sleep, weekends where Lisa and Ben were out with friends, or at Ben's sports, holidays where the grief of Sam's absence was too painful to let him be around anyone else. At the time, Dean's emotions had been in complete control of his actions. His memories of Hell were fresh and vivid, every night, every hunt, just eating at him. The angels were breathing down his neck, with their cryptic warnings about Sam, and his supposed destiny, and the looming Apocalypse. And Sam… Sam had been scaring the shit out of him. Stronger and bulkier than ever but never having looked less healthy in his life. Pale as a ghost half the time, radiating fury and vengeance. Ruthless, and cold, and so closed off. At the time, Dean was hurt because he thought Sam was choosing Ruby over him. Anyone who didn't know his brother the way Dean did would have assumed the same thing. But with the benefit of hindsight, with the clarity of seeing the bigger picture and the end result of that whole mess, Dean realizes it was never about Sam not picking Dean. It was always about Sam picking Dean too much. Sam chose Dean over himself. Over his own soul, his own humanity. He was willing to sacrifice everything that made Sam who he was, for the sake of his brother. And even then, even with all the power and all the excuses in the world at his feet… what did Sam do with it? What was his big crime? Exorcising demons without killing the people they were possessing? Seeing deaths ahead of time, and doing absolutely everything in his power to save them? Killing two of the most powerful demons of all time, the High Inquisitor and the Queen of Hell? Not exactly the makings of a supervillain. And when Dean compares Sam to some of the other Special Children… Max, who murdered his family, Weebs who controlled and manipulated everyone around him maliciously, who tried to murder Dean and his own twin brother's girlfriend, plus several other people, Ava and Jake who didn't hesitate to murder anyone who got in their ways. Okay sure, the lying to Dean wasn't great, the keeping secrets, not ideal, but still a far cry from murder and domination. And Dean had been in too rough a place back then to realize what Sam was doing. What he was sacrificing, what he was killing himself to protect. Dean had been so consumed by his own small world of pain after Hell, that it never occurred to him that Sam was seeing, and fighting for, something so much grander than just the two of them. Sam had been fighting for the world, to save the entire world, and what did he get for it? His brother's distrust, Bobby's disappointment, multiple stints in a rough, harsh detox facility in the form of Bobby's panic room. And a shattered sense of self-worth. And Sam will spend the rest of his life trying to make up for what he considers his failings when it is the world that should be down on its knees, making up for failing him. Well, that is going to start right freaking now. Dean is getting his smart, brave, endlessly selfless brother back, and he is forcing that angel to be the first of many to give Sam the damn respect that he deserves. And also, maybe, driving his angel blade through Crowley's neck, just on principle for dragging Cas into his whole Purgatory plot to begin with. But he would give first crack at that to Sam. Sam has eternal dibs on killing every demon they come across from here on out, as far as Dean is concerned. Besides, Sam has a nice streak going of Hellish monarchs he has brought down single-handedly. Lilith, Lucifer… Alistair and Samhain, if you include them in the Hellish royal family, which, Dean knows from experience, many demons still do. It would be a shame to get in the way of him adding another notch to his belt.
"Hey Dean." Bobby says, his voice breaking the silence that has fallen over the Impala. Dean instantly tenses and then relaxes within a few seconds. To just about anyone, Bobby would sound relaxed, thoughtful even. But Dean, having hunted with the man for years, hears the soft warning, the unspoken 'pay attention now' in his voice.
"Yeah?" Dean asks, keeping his voice as light, and as warm, and as casual as when he was talking about Sammy, though he knows Bobby knows he is on red alert, all of his hunter instincts ranging out, trying to find what triggered Bobby in the first place.
"Remember when you and Sam were hunting that shapeshifter with your Dad as kids, and Sam got all that crap stuck to his shoe?" Bobby asks, putting a fond nostalgia into his voice and Dean let himself grin, smiling just as fondly even as his eyes automatically flick to the rearview mirror. The code phrase for being followed was one he and Sam came up with when they were kids, and they taught it to Bobby when Sam was fifteen and had a wraith stalking his high school. Their father had been a state away on a witch thing, so they had called Bobby to help them out, and Bobby had arrived in time to hear Sammy use the code over the phone. Ever since then, they had been sure to fill in Bobby on each of their codes in case they ever needed his help again. A decision that has paid off time and time again.
"Yeah, when he was, what, four, five?" Dean asks casually.
"This side of six, I think." Bobby says, gesturing vaguely with his left hand. Dean's eyes immediately look into his driver's side mirror, searching for the car six back from them, in the left lane. A black sedan, impeccably following the speed limits, drives steadily in the traffic around them, never passing any other cars, or changing lanes, hell even staying perfectly even between the lines on the road. Dean had only ever seen one type of person drive that way, so obedient to every single traffic law. And Dean is once again grateful for Bobby's instincts. This close between the cars, the angels would definitely be able to hear every word they spoke to each other, so Dean keeps up the act, knowing that Bobby can keep up with it as well.
"Yeah. I remember." Dean chuckles softly. "Hard to believe that the kid could be so messy and so damn angelic at the same time. Proof I guess that cleanliness isn't godliness." Angels, not demons, most likely.
"Careful boy." Bobby says lightly. "Some angels might smite you on principle for comparing your brother to them." While Bobby isn't wrong in his statement, Dean can also hear the hidden message, asking if he thinks the angels are hostile, like Raphael's followers, or just tailing them, maybe on Cas' orders, to keep an eye on them while Cas is God knows where doing God knows what with Sam.
"Yeah, well, all angels are dicks, that's a given." Dean answers, hoping their unwanted entourage heard that, and that Bobby heard that it doesn't matter what side of the Heavenly schism these asshats are on, all angels are dangerous and a threat to them right now. Dean puts on a show of scanning the road, unsure of exactly what the angels will be able to see at their current distance. "Hey, you feeling hungry? I'm thinking of stopping for a bite." Translated into Winchester-ease, Dean is actually asking if Bobby thinks they should pull over and deal with these dick bags now, or if they should keep driving and try and shake them on the road. Bobby looks thoughtful, his eyes flashing to the rearview mirror, before he spins around and digs through the duffle bag on the back seat holding all of their weapons for this 'hunt'. Carefully, keeping his arms out of any possible sightline the angels might have, he slides the angel blade into his sleeve.
"I could eat." Bobby finally agrees. "Gonna be a long trip, might as well fuel up now." Dean nods, clenching his jaw tightly as his hands tighten over the wheel and he starts scanning ahead for real, looking for somewhere decent enough to not raise suspicion, but quiet enough to not draw attention. With not knowing who exactly is following them, they need to be prepared for anything, from a sanctimonious lecture on not interfering in angel business, to a full out brawl. If Dean is being honest with himself, he is sort of hoping for the latter. Sure, angels are tough sons of bitches, powerful and lightning quick and not at all hesitant to do a little self-righteous smiting if they feel the need, but Dean doesn't care right now about the odds, because one, he has taken out bigger fish, so a couple of grunt angels on Winchester detail shouldn't be too much of a hassle. And two, he is sick and tired of being dragged into angelic plans and schemes. He is sick of Sam being used like a pawn against him. Zachariah and Uriel in particular had latched onto that strategy, using threats of harming Sammy to try and coerce Dean into behaving like their trained monkey, and unfortunately it seems like Cas has picked up the habit. So, Cas' angels or Raphael's, it doesn't really matter either way. Dean still wants to vent some of his pent up anger and frustration on whoever is stupid enough to get between him and his little brother. After a few minutes, Dean spots a sign for one of those half gas stations, half restaurant rest stops just off the highway at the next off-ramp, and he flicks his signal on, giving their stalkers plenty of notice of his intention. As he assumed, the black sedan perfectly changes lanes to get into the off ramp, following the impala as Dean carefully slows down from highway speeds, carefully directing Baby into the parking lot of the weirdly modern looking rest stop. With darkness now rapidly falling around them, the building practically glows with bright lights, the inside lit up to show the very empty diner, and the small rows of cheap snacks and supplies that makes up the gas station half. A few pumps stand out front, though only one is currently occupied. Still, not wanting to draw the poor guy standing out in the cold into whatever mess he and Bobby are in, Dean instead directs his car towards the back of the building, looping Baby around once they are hidden behind the stop entirely, so that the car is now facing the way they came in. A moment passes in silence as Dean shuts off the engine, before headlights light up the empty parking lot and dumpster cans of Dean's impromptu meeting spot. The sedan stops a few feet away, the engine idling for a moment before it too is shut off, the headlights dimming so that only the clear sky above with its stars and waxing moon illuminate the area around them. Dean and Bobby exchange a quick, wary look before they climb out of the impala in near sync. Feeling incredibly vulnerable without the angel blade, or even some holy oil or something, Dean shoves it down and puts his usual cocky, arrogant smile on full display. The one that almost always gets him a bitchface from Sam, usually at least a number from, if not entirely lucky with, whatever waitress or bartender he flashes it at, and more than once in trouble with whatever baddie of the week he was up against. The angels, three of them, climb from the sedan, and Dean's nerves increase at being overwhelmed, but not overly so. Three isn't that many, he has faced worse odds. And seeing them now, moving stiffly to stand in a three point formation, one ashy-haired, grey-eyed male at the point with the other two, a bronze haired, blue-grey eyed female and a grey-haired, elderly male flanking him, Dean can confirm they are angels. They hold themselves tall, proud, and stiff, smug superiority radiating off of them, their expressions cool, calm and blank, as if carved from stone. And they all wear similar light grey suits, as if attending some big important corporate meeting after shaking Dean and Bobby down. Having been in his fair share of stand offs before, and Bobby having undoubtedly been in even more, both hunters know the key to taking control of a situation like this is to let the other party make the first move. What they do or say will dictate the course of actions to follow, giving Dean and Bobby the most options to choose from in order to respond. So they stand quietly, putting on an air of casual disinterest, raising their eyebrows at the quiet, contemplative angels. The angels, in turn, regard them warily, as if expecting an attack, which, alright, is warranted. Dean is ready to pretty much throw down at the slightest provocation. Finally, the angel who took point, who must be the one in charge, clears his throat.
"Dean Winchester. Robert Singer." The angel's voice is far from warm, but it is polite. Cool, as if greeting a colleague.
"Stunt Angel Number One." Dean replies cheekily, nodding his head in greeting. "Number two, number three." He nods at each of Number One's companions. The angels frown in confusion.
"Those are not our names." The leader says, hesitating now. Good, Dean has thrown him off balance.
"Then why don't you acquaint yourselves? Only seems fair, since you know our names." Bobby says casually, keeping with the tense, but relatively civil approach to this… summit that the angels initiated, while also fishing for more information. Dean knows Bobby and Sam had been digging into the angel lore ever since Cas had first told them about the civil war in Heaven, trying to learn as much about them, and which angels might pose the biggest problems. Dean had even seen a list Sam was keeping, ranking the angels that they knew about in terms of threat level and whose side they were on. Pushing away the pain and fear that thinking about Sam brings, Dean quickly refocuses back on his current situation. Number One studies Bobby, before nodding his head.
"That is reasonable. My name is Malachai. This is Naomi, and Ishmael." Malachai gestures at his companions, before his eyes sweep over the lot and the empty impala behind Bobby and Dean, searching. He looks displeased. "Where is Samuel Winchester?" Bobby and Dean exchange sharp looks.
"Whose asking?" Dean questions in return, though his skin is crawling as unease trickles through him, and the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up as adrenaline starts to pump through his system. Bobby shifts uneasily next to him, and Dean is guessing that Bobby has figured out what he did. If these angels worked for Cas, surely they would know where Sam was already.
"I am." Malachai answers, his brow furrowing in confusion at Dean's question. Dean rolls his eyes in annoyance. Freaking overly literal angels…
"He means, who do you work for." Bobby says quickly, before Dean can snap something in return. Bobby shoots Dean a warning look to stand down. No sense in starting a fight if they don't have to, especially outnumbered and outgunned as they were by the angels. "We know about the war in Heaven. So, who sent you?" The confusion clears from the angels' faces.
"Ah. We were sent by Raphael." Malachai answers. Immediately Dean and Bobby tense, and the angel blade Bobby is holding slips into his palm, though the angel raises his hand in a placating manner. "We are not here to fight you."
"Raphael has given us strict orders not to hurt the Righteous Man, or his most trusted human companion." Naomi says steadily, trying, Dean thinks, to be reassuring. If anything, Dean's mistrust of them has skyrocketed, and he feels his entire body tensing and coiling, ready to fight, the way it does right before he and Sam tackle a monster on any other hunt. He also finds himself bristling at her words, anger growing inside of him. Not once has anything good followed an angel calling him the Righteous Man. Not once. It usually leads to them wanting something from him, something that usually sucks for him and any other human involved. Not to mention… as much as Dean loves Bobby, trusts him, depends on him, owes him his life ten times over… Bobby is not Dean's most trusted human companion. That position has always, always been filled, human or not, by one person, and one person alone. Even if Sam isn't here with him at the moment, Dean won't insult his brother by letting these asshats think Sam isn't that person. He has let his little brother down too many times before this in that department, and it is his job, with Sammy present or not, to re-establish the faith he has in Sam, to himself and anyone else who doubts it.
"Well, if Raphael doesn't want you hurting me or Sam, than where Sam is shouldn't matter." Dean says coolly, emphasizing Sam's name so his meaning is crystal clear. By the sudden coolness in the angels' expressions, he assumes the message was received and not appreciated. "Besides, when did that happen? Last time I checked, Raphael was more than willing to take me and Sam out."
"We were not referring to the Abomination." Ishmael says coldly. He nods at Bobby, as both Dean and Bobby scowl furiously at the slur against Sam. "Raphael's order pertained to Robert Singer and yourself only. Now where is the other one?"
"Oh, yeah, well if we weren't going to tell you before, we definitely will now." Dean sneers coldly.
"Easy." Malachai says, glancing at Ishmael who scowls but backs down, before he turns what is probably supposed to be a comforting smile. "As I said, we are not here to fight. We understand you are wary of us, and Raphael. Castiel no doubt has filled your heads with lies and slander about us, and what we are fighting for. Raphael acknowledges he has been a bit… aggressive, against you. He wants to rectify that."
"By calling my brother an abomination." Dean snarls. Malachai sighs.
"That was a harsh word. I deeply apologize for my brother." Malachai says peacefully, shooting another glare at Ishmael, who doesn't look apologetic in the slightest.
"Save the apologies." Bobby growls, anger evident in his voice as he gives up on trying to maintain the neutrality. "What do you want with Sam?"
"Sam has made many mistakes and has caused grave harm. Raphael wants to offer him a chance for redemption." Malachai says, as if unveiling some grand prize on a game show. Or displaying a hitherto unseen level of a grand gesture of charity.
"Redemption." Both Bobby and Dean spit out the word venomously, righteous fury coursing through both hunters. Dean clenches his fists tight enough that his nails draw blood from his palms. How dare these angels pass any sort of judgement on Sam? Condemn him in any way for doing exactly what Heaven had wanted from him, for being manipulated by these winged dicks in the first place? Naomi and Ishmael seem to sense the rising volatility of the two hunters, shifting in response and sliding their own angel blades into their hands, though Malachai seems oblivious, as he smiles instead.
"Yes. Raphael intends to offer your brother a chance to fix the mess that he has made of things. To earn Heaven's forgiveness. Even you Dean can't deny that your brother needs it." Malachai tries to point out.
"Watch me." Dean hisses. "Sam doesn't need a damn thing from Heaven, certainly not forgiveness. Definitely not redemption, he didn't do anything wrong. In fact, it's Heaven that should be begging for his forgiveness, after all the crap you have done to him. You could have stopped the apocalypse at any time, but you let him go to Lilith that night, you manipulated him into letting Lucifer out every bit as much as that bitch Ruby did. And when Lucifer was free, you did everything your power to try to make him say yes to Lucifer and kickstart the final battle with Lucifer. Everything that happened was on you, and Hell, Sam was just the unlucky son of a bitch who you made into your scapegoat." The angels' faces turn cold, then furious, then finally impassive during Dean's rant, and there is a distinct iciness when Naomi responds.
"How can you still defend him? He denied you your destiny. You are meant to be the most divine, the most holy of vessels, worthy of Michael himself. You are his sword, and Samuel fought to prevent you from your fate, from being immortal, from saving the world." She questions, incredulous. Dean snorts.
"Sam didn't deny me anything, sweetheart." Dean says, putting as much condescension into his voice as possible, picking the most rage-inducing nickname he can think of and watching with glee as she scowls and clutches her angel blade tighter. "He saved me, from being a damn puppet for the rest of my life. He saved me from making the biggest mistake I could have ever made. He saved me from becoming a prisoner in my own skin, and he saved the entire damn world from your precious Michael. He was the Righteous Man all along and your bone-headed, bigoted prejudice made you too blind to see it." Ishmael, Malachai and Naomi all frown at Dean, displeasure and rage in each expression.
"Enough, Dean. This childish temper tantrum isn't going to distract us." Malachai says after a moment of silence. "Where is Samuel?"
"Ask your mother." Dean spits back, rage and adrenaline making him eager for a fight, to sink his fists and Bobby's blade into their arrogant, obnoxious necks.
"Angels don't have a mother." Ishmael says dismissively. "Now, we already know Samuel isn't at that dump you call a home. It has been searched thoroughly, and we had a human enter the warded metal room in the basement to confirm he wasn't there."
"You broke into my house?" Bobby demands, and Dean is pretty sure that if Bobby had his shotgun on him, the angel would be full of rock salt at the moment, just on principle even if it wouldn't do much good.
"You two aren't exactly known for being the most agreeable humans." Naomi says, as if that justifies the violation of their home. Dean feels as pissed as Bobby at the lack of respect for boundaries all angels seem to be showing these days. But as the angels speak, one thing is becoming very clear to Dean. Raphael, yet another archangel, wants Sammy. And they don't know that Cas already has him. For the first time, Dean feels ever so slightly grateful that the angel took his brother. Because, whatever this 'redemption' is that Raphael has planned for Sam, Dean has a feeling it is going to be nothing but misery for his brother.
"We will ask one more time. We know Samuel isn't at your house. Where is he?" Malachai asks. Any friendliness, or politeness, that existed when the two parties had gotten out of their cars is long gone, only aggressive, impatient, furious tension existing between them now. "We will find him one way or another, and while Raphael has ordered us not to harm either of you, no such protection exists for the Abomination. If you do not tell us where he is, he is the one who will suffer for it." Dean and Bobby exchange sharp glances, both enraged at the threats being leveled against the youngest member of their family. Dean raises his eyebrows and Bobby nods once. With Bobby solidly on his side, Dean turns back to the waiting angels.
"You can find him at six six six, Screw You Avenue in Go to Hell. Population, Raphael." Dean drawls arrogantly. In unison, the angels scowl, and Dean and Bobby tense, ready for them to strike, but true to their word, the angels don't move to hurt him. Instead, Naomi and Ishmael turn, striding back to their car and climbing in as Malachai shakes his head.
"Big mistake, Dean Winchester. Just because Raphael doesn't want you harmed, don't go thinking he doesn't have plans for you two as well. Helping us could have gone a long way for you, but Raphael will be informed about your insolence and lack of cooperation."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean waves off the angel before lifting his middle finger and extending it towards Malachai. "Pass this along to your boss for me." Scowling even more deeply, the angel turns and retreats, climbing into the driver's seat of the sedan, turning the car on and reversing quickly out of the back lot. Bobby and Dean watch the car disappear back towards the highway, not speaking until they see the car merge into the steady evening traffic.
"Well… this makes things more complicated." Bobby says, frowning.
"That's an understatement." Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair, still shaking with pent up adrenaline and still furious at the audacity of those angels.
"You think…" Bobby hesitates. "You think we should pray to Cas? Let him know that Raphael is gunning for Sam? He might be willing to give Sam back or at least be prepared to defend him if Raphael learns that Cas has him." Dean hesitates, thinking. Normally he would be all for anything that would give Sam more protection, and this kind of knowledge would definitely count. But Dean just doesn't know where Cas' head is at. The lengths he has shown he is willing to go to against Raphael… Dean can't help but wonder if maybe Cas would use Sam as bait, to lure Raphael into a trap. And Dean can't risk that. Shaking his head, Dean makes a decision.
"No. Not yet. I say we stick to the plan, try to get Sam ourselves and then lock him up in the panic room until this whole mess blows over." Dean says. "If anything else happens, or we get caught, we can tell Cas then. No sense putting Sam in any more danger than we have to." Bobby nods thoughtfully, and the fierceness in his eyes makes Dean wonder if Bobby came to the same suspicions about Cas' intentions as Dean.
"Right. Well, we best be going then, before the God Squad decides to return." Bobby says. Dean nods in agreement and the two men hurry back towards Baby, climbing in and starting the car, Dean carefully pulling her out of the parking lot and steering her south, towards Kansas, Bobby never once letting go of the angel blade in his hand. Invisible, watching from the shadows of the building of the rest stop, a young black woman, with short black hair framing her face, watches the classic car pull away from the meeting spot, wearing a smug expression. Having been called on angel radio the moment Malachai had exited the sedan the angels stole, Raphael had arrived to watch the entire exchange between his followers and his Father's chosen ones. While he was disappointed by their attitude, it was a minor inconvenience, one that can be dealt with down the road. After all, he had discovered what he needed to know. Sam Winchester was with the traitor, and he already knew where the traitor was hiding. With a small, jubilant laugh, echoing in his vessel's soft, girlish tones, Raphael spreads his wings and disappears. He has a mission to plan.