Chapter Forty-Nine

Cards Down

Valerius Estate: August 5, 2010 – Late Morning

Bobby leaned against the pillar overlooking the training area and watched Azrial and Marcus cross blades. She'd forgone her angel blade and picked up one of the gladiuses the Valerius' had on hand for sword training. Their movements were hypnotizing, more akin to a dance than a spar. The sensuality was heightened by the fact that Marcus had discarded his shirt, citing that the material was itchy, and Azrial was wearing a sports bra and leggings that left a majority of her chest and midriff exposed to the summer heat. They were both dripping sweat, and Azrial's messy ponytail seemed to be on its last leg if the wisps of hair framing her face were any indication.

"Having second thoughts, pet?"

Bobby glanced at Crowley before looking back to the spar. "No. What about you, your highness?"

"There is little I wouldn't do for her," Crowley muttered. "Though, this may be the stupidest thing."

"Gonna walk away a bit bruised and bloody," Bobby admitted. "It's gonna be worth it. It has to be."

Crowley hummed in agreement as Azrial and Marcus switched places during their spar. The man noticed them, and his smile disappeared and morphed into a serious line. His hits against Azrial became harder, more precise, forcing her to leave openings behind her.

It was the cue for him and Crowley to step in.

"Let's go," Bobby whispered as he straightened up.

Crowley nodded, and a moment later, warmth settled over his body. It still surprised him how different having Azrial and Crowley inside him felt. The temperature difference alone was staggering. He leaned down, pulling the demon knife out of his boot. He traced Azrial's movements as Marcus continued to push her into a corner. Her back was still turned to them, and Bobby forced himself to swallow his pride about not wanting to attack a woman with her back turned.

The only way he had a prayer of landing a blow on Azrial was by doing this.

Ready? Crowley's voice silky asked.

Hell no, Bobby admitted. But when have I ever been?

Bobby shot forward, still adjusting to the boost of speed Crowley lent him. He saw Azrial stiffen, pushing Marcus away with barely enough time to turn and block his attack.

"Should have known that wouldn't work on you," Bobby said.

Azrial narrowed her eyes, searching his face. "What are you both doing?"

"What we need to."

Bobby yanked his knife away, forcing Azrial to recenter herself, and aimed to connect with her ribs. She brought the gladius vertically to her side, bringing his blade to a halt. She shoved him away and quickly turned to block Marcus's attack to her back. Bobby didn't let up, lunging again, but Azrial pulled her archangel blade and stopped him.

"You. Aren't. Coming."

Bobby frowned at the pupilless silver glare and barely managed to step back as Azrial went to kick him in the gut. She turned on Marcus, stepping into his attack to grab his throat. The rather violent counter surprised the Roman, and she wrenched his gladius from his hand and threw it well out of the small training arena.

"How dare you encourage this!" she screeched at Marcus. "How dare you conspire to endanger them knowing what it would do to me!"

She tossed Marcus in a clear show of strength, his back connecting with the training area's low stone wall. Bobby shot the dazed man an apologetic look but was forced to catch both a gladius and an archangel blade on the measly demon knife in his hand. It was only his enhanced strength that even made the movement possible.

"Stand down," Azrial snarled. "Don't make me hurt you to prove a point."

Metal scraped against metal as Bobby did his best to push back against Azrial's strength. Thankfully, he had a height advantage, and a crazy idea shot through his head.

I've done crazier, Crowley said firmly. Brace!

His knife was suddenly enveloped in flames that quickly began heating Azrial's weapons. She cursed low in her throat, jumping back from him to shift her grip on the two weapons.

"Something wrong, princess?" he asked.

We're all sleeping in the woods tonight, Crowley bemoaned at Azrial's livid glare.

Bobby glanced over her shoulder to see Marcus getting to his feet, though he didn't seem steady just yet, and who the hell knew where Azrial had tossed his sword. He and Crowley were on their own for the rest of the fight.

"Fuck it," Bobby muttered.

He dropped low, slashing the burning knife against the loose sand of the training arena and sending it right into Azrial's face. Embers and sand forced her to raise her gladius to protect her eyes, and Bobby moved into her defense without a second thought.

The sound of blood splashing on the ground was louder than he expected.

He'd moved past Azrial, breathing heavily as he turned back toward her. She'd turned around, a deep wound in her right thigh bleeding profusely. He placed his hand on his bicep, trying to stem the blood from his own wound.

"Why are you doing this?" Azrial asked, her voice cracking.

"You know why," Bobby said, wincing as he brought fire to his palm. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the blood filling his mouth as he burned the wound on his bicep shut.

"Stand down." Azrial was close to tears, and Bobby hated it. Hell, he could feel Crowley's resolve wavering at how fucking heartbroken she sounded.

"I can't—we can't. You know that."

He didn't give her another chance to talk them down and swallowed the worry about whether she could block his next attack. He needed to emotionally detach from the situation, but it was so damn hard. Every cut, every drop of blood, every goddamn clash of blades made him desperately wish there was another way to convince Azrial to let them be on the battlefield.

There wasn't, though, because all three of them were too fucking stubborn for their own good.

Bobby cursed as Azrial managed to knock the knife from his hand. The gladius came dangerously close to his neck, but he managed to pivot out of the way and grab Azrial's wrist.

I'm sorry.

Before Bobby could ask what the hell Crowley meant, his hand was on fire. It didn't hurt him, but Azrial let out a blood-curdling scream. She yanked her hand free and planted her foot directly in his stomach. It knocked the wind out of him, and his back hit the ground.

"Fucking warn me next time," Bobby gasped as he barely managed to roll out of the way of Azrial's next blow. "Especially if you're gonna piss her off!"

You're holding back too much, Crowley said emotionlessly. She isn't your lover right now, Robert. She's an enemy, and I promise if putting us down hard will prove her point, she will. If you want to win, you need to be willing to do the same.

"I hate it when you're right," he muttered.

He pulled his gun from where it was holstered at his side and shot Azrial in the knee, shattering the bone. It brought her to a staggering halt. The response even took Crowley off guard, the demon's shock radiating through his body. Azrial tried to move, but the shattered kneecap stubbornly refused to budge.

"What have you done?" Azrial demanded.

Seriously, what the hell did you do? Crowley asked, a bit of awe in his voice.

"I'm a damn hunter," Bobby snapped, getting to his feet. "Did you really think I wouldn't have a way to trap you?"

Azrial glanced at her knee and then back to him. "I can break this. You must know that."

"I'm sure you could," Bobby admitted. "But could you break it before I cause you serious injury?"

Azrial remained silent, and Bobby had to swallow back his concern for her. He'd given as good as he'd got in their little skirmish, but while he'd been able to stop most of his bleeding, Azrial hadn't bothered. The ground around her was drenched in blood, and the smell was making him dizzy. It wasn't like blood was a new thing to him, but her blood…their angel's blood…

Breathe, Crowley whispered as more warmth flooded his body. Deep breaths, my pet.

Bobby took another deep breath and stared Azrial down. She met his gaze, though he could tell she was surprised by the turn of events.

"So, what's it gonna be?" he asked.

Azrial frowned, shooting a skeptical glance at her knee before looking back to him.

"You'd actually do it," she said slowly. "I can see it in your eyes."

Bobby didn't say anything, not wanting to tip his hand. He really didn't want her calling his bluff because hurting her more than he already had may be too much for him. He wasn't even sure if Crowley could manage it without his own mental anguish.

I'd rather not test that theory, Crowley quietly admitted.

Azrial took a shaky breath and leaned over her knee. Bobby hated how loud the sound of her pulling the bullet out was. She tossed the bullet at his feet and turned away from him.

"Do what you want," she said tersely.

Bobby went to reach for her, but Azrial stepped forward and was gone before he managed.

Definitely sleeping in the woods, Crowley said. We should check on Marcus.

Bobby cursed and rushed over to check on the man. Marcus was leaning heavily against the wall, rubbing his throat in discomfort.

"Sorry for draggin' you into this," Bobby said. "We should have handled it ourselves."

Marcus snorted, wincing at the action. "You act as if I never earned her fury before. You have proven your point and earned her blessing, however reluctant it may have been."

"Tellin' me she's tossed you around like that before?" Bobby asked in surprise.

"Only once," Marcus admitted. "When I tried to come out of retirement to help…a friend. She took no pleasure in showing me that I was long past the point of fighting on the front line."

"Really?" Bobby couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice, and Marcus's lips twitched mirthlessly.

"I was injured shortly after turning forty summers during a raid. An opponent put a hastathrough my sword arm, shattering bone. Azrial did her best to heal it, but some damage remained. If not for that injury, I would probably appear older than I do now."

"So, when ya tried to join your friend, she wasn't happy?"

Marcus shook his head, walking over to take a seat on the bench near the weapon rack. Bobby followed his lead, and when he sat down, Marcus sighed.

"Understand, I only agreed to this because I truly feel the three of you will be stronger together. I did not want to mention this to you before knowing the outcome, but she has me paired with Dean."

Bobby jolted in surprise, glancing at the man. "And you agreed?"

"Reluctantly," Marcus said after a moment. "I am sure you can understand my conflict on the matter."

Bobby nodded, mulling over the ramifications. Of everyone, Azrial and Marcus had the most frontline battle experience. By pairing the man with Dean and Castiel, Azrial was protecting them in the best way she knew how while also leaving herself without someone she trusted to defend her back.

"And I thanked her by getting into a pissing match about going to the damn battle," Bobby muttered.

"It had to be done," Marcus said. "Even if she finds her flock, what then? Neither of her seraphim have fought by her side for thousands of years. They do not know her fighting style, not like the both of you do."

He may have a point, Crowley said. Doesn't get us out of the doghouse, though.

"Any advice on how to smooth things over with her?" Bobby asked hopefully.

Marcus chuckled, tilting his head in thought. "And why should I give you both more help than I had in the same situation?"

"Because her bad mood extends to you?"

Marcus seemed to consider that but then shook his head and stood up.

"I think this is something you both must handle on your own. If things are still tense in a few days, I may consider coming to your rescue."

"Sadist," Bobby half-heartedly complained. "You just like seeing us suffer."

"Ah, but tell me, is she not worth these small pains?"

Marcus didn't wait for an answer, grabbing his shirt from the bench and making his way out of the training area. Bobby sighed, resting his elbows against his knees and putting his head in his hands.

"Of course she is," he said softly. "Don't mean I have to like it."

We need a plan, Crowley said. Any thoughts?

"Beyond kissing ass?" Bobby asked rhetorically. "I think I need a long shower before I can think too deeply about it."

Point. I'll get out of your handsome body then.

"Don't," Bobby said, a bit too quickly for his own liking. "Just…not yet."

Crowley was silent for a moment, but then he felt the demon's power wrap even tighter around him. It felt like a pseudo-hug, and he could almost imagine Crowley pressed against his back with his chin on his shoulder.

As you wish, pet.

Line Break

Valerius Estate: August 9, 2010 – Early Afternoon

Dean knew something was up with Azrial, but she was damn good at dodging everyone. It had been a few days since she'd stormed into the estate, pissy and covered in blood. Dean had been with Sam in the library and almost dropped the book he was paging through in surprise.

"Don't get involved," Sam advised.

"Yeah, but she seems—"

Sam quickly cut him off. "No buts, Dean. This is on Bobby and Crowley."

At the time, he'd reluctantly agreed with Sam. He really didn't want to get involved in whatever was going on with the polycule, especially since it seemed that Marcus had already been dragged into it.

"Ugh, this is pointless," Dean said and stood up from his chair in the sunroom.

He'd been resting after a training session with Marcus, and his arms were uncomfortably sore. He was pretty sure he'd used muscles that, up until today, had gone unnoticed, and they weren't thrilled with his sudden spike in activity. The doom and gloom hanging over the whole house was driving him nuts, though, especially since it didn't seem to be ending anytime soon.

He made his way outside, walking without a destination in mind. He'd seen a lot of the estate at this point, but he knew there were a lot of parts he hadn't, just due to sheer size and lack of time. Castiel was only ever a thought away, though, and since the angels could use their wings, it really didn't matter if he got lost on the massive property. He'd decided to walk north, behind the villa, to see what was around. For a while, there was nothing but gardens. He even caught sight of one of the nymphs, who let out a tiny eep at the sight of him, quickly shifting into a bush of hyacinths.

He shook his head, still surprised at how shy they were. They seemed happy to be noticed from afar, even admired for their beauty, but if you got too close, they bolted like spooked squirrels.

The soft sound of metal against metal made him pause, and he looked around, trying to pinpoint it. He wasn't near the training grounds, so he wasn't sure what was causing it. Every few moments, it paused and then started up again with a gentle ting ting ting that he wasn't familiar with. The sounds of blades scraping against each other sounded nothing like that, and even when he helped Bobby make bullets, the sound wasn't so…harmonic? He wasn't sure if that was the right word or not, but whatever. He followed the sound and was surprised to see a mostly open-air stone structure with smoke rising from it.

"You gonna forgive them anytime soon? I can't handle the damn tension anymore."

Dean paused, recognizing Gabriel's voice though he couldn't see the archangel. He stayed near a tree, leaning against the trunk and peered inside the building. He saw Azrial leaning over what looked like an anvil, but still didn't see Gabriel.

"If you're just here to bitch, kindly fuck off," came Azrial's terse reply.

"Come on, that's not fair. I'm just worried about you."

The soft ting ting ting was back, and it took Dean a second to realize it was Azrial making the sound. He couldn't see what she was working on, but the fact she even knew how to work metal was surprising enough for him. Then again, he never asked Castiel where the hell angel blades came from. Maybe they were something the archangels had made?

"Fuck off, Gabriel."

Azrial's tone was cold as an arctic wind, and Gabriel sighed. He finally stepped into view with his arms crossed.

"Come on, Lil Me, at least let me help."

"No," came the monotone reply as the hammer came down with a hard chink that made it sound like Azrial had missed the mark. She cursed, tossing a piece of metal to the side. "Now give me your damn feathers and get lost."

Gabriel frowned but dragged a hand through the air behind him. A moment later, a handful of golden feathers were offered to Azrial.

"You can't keep ignoring them. I'm pretty sure Crowley is actually starting to feel sad."

Azrial slammed the hammer against the anvil with a sharp clang and yanked the feathers out of Gabriel's hand.

"Leave."

Gabriel seemed to realize the next place that hammer was going was his face and left without further comment. Azrial snarled under her breath and walked over to the smoking forge. She yanked out a piece of molten metal with her bare hand, placed it on the anvil, and began to bring the hammer down again with a gentle ting ting ting.

"Stop lurking around, Dean."

Dean jolted at the soft reprimand, and slowly approached the archangel. He watched her movements, noting even now she was holding the molten metal in place with her bare hand as she shaped it.

"That doesn't hurt?" he asked in lieu of talking about the elephant in the room.

She snorted, her lips quirking up as she continued to work. "My core temperature is very cold. It doesn't feel like more than a warm blanket to me."

"Oh."

Silence washed over the area and Dean decided to simply watch her work. The metal in her hand was strange. It had a black tinge in some light, but when she turned the piece, it looked gray. The more she worked it, the more the two colors seemed to twist around each other.

"I'm surprised you made it all the way out here. Bit of a hike."

There was a touch of suspicion in her voice, but he was too transfixed by the metal to care. There was something in the back of his mind that told him he should know what it was.

"Yeah, well, I was bored and just picked a direction."

"I see."

The hammer stopped for a moment, and Azrial pulled one of Gabriel's golden feathers from the pile and placed it into the metal.

"Um, whatever you're doing isn't gonna blind me, right?" he asked hesitantly.

Azrial laughed drily as she gently placed the metal back into the forge. "If it could, Cassius would have bitched until he lost his voice."

"Cassius?"

Azrial seemed to realize she'd let her guard down and didn't respond again right away. She watched the metal heat up with a frown, her eyes eerily bright in the firelight. Minutes passed before she pulled out the metal again, and to Dean's surprise, the feather was unscathed. She placed it on the anvil and began to work the metal around the feather. Her brow was creased in thought, beads of sweat dripping down her pale skin. The firelight bathed her face in a warm glow that seemed to highlight the concern in her eyes.

"Cassius was one of Marcus's shield brothers. He assisted me several times when I worked the forge."

"You did it often, then?"

Azrial paused her work, shooting him an amused half-smile. "You seem curious."

"I mean, I never really thought about how angelic weapons and armor came into being. Guess I'm wondering how skilled you are."

Azrial seemed to mull over his statement as she continued to cradle the feather further into the metal.

"I learned from Lucifer," she quietly admitted. "Our cores are very similar, though I'm much colder than he is."

Dean kept a neutral expression, knowing if he reacted in disgust, she'd close off to him, and the conversation would end abruptly.

"How much colder?"

"Compare the Arctic to deep space, and you'd be getting close."

Dean blinked, not expecting the glib answer. He stared at her, trying to figure out if she was punking him. She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and he huffed.

"So, I wasn't wrong to call you a frigid bitch."

Azrial chuckled, and Dean counted that as a win. The more she talked, the more tension seemed to leave her body. She became more focused on her task, and he knew her guard was slowly coming down.

"Literally," she said. "But to answer your previous question, yes, I worked the forge for Marcus several times."

"Wouldn't a base this size have a blacksmith?" he asked curiously as Azrial placed the metal-wrapped feather back in the forge.

"It almost always did," she admitted. "But there were times that there wasn't, or the blacksmith fell ill at a horrible time. It was a small thing for me to take over; I just couldn't be seen."

"Cassius knew who you were then," Dean stated in surprise.

"Aeliana, Cassius, Felix, and Giaus all knew of my divinity," Azrial said. "In them, I found a family I never thought I'd have again."

There was a deep sadness in her voice, not that Dean blamed her. He'd heard how Felix and Aeliana, Cassiopeia and Orion's great-how-many-times grandparents, had died. He couldn't imagine what that had done to Azrial at the time, who had suddenly lost two-fifths of her new family and become a mother in the span of a few weeks.

"Who was Giaus?" Dean settled on asking, unsure where to take the conversation.

"Marcus's pedagogues," Azrial easily responded. "He was a man of few words, but I learned to always heed him when he did speak."

The respect in her voice took Dean aback, and he quickly tried to remember what the title meant. He vaguely recalled Sam mentioning something about it but couldn't quite remember.

"Sounds like he made an impression," Dean said.

"He almost didn't let Marcus and I wed," Azrial admitted. "Thankfully, we all came to an agreement."

"Sounds like he had a set of balls," Dean drily commented.

Azrial chuckled. "He was…something else. I'll admit that."

The silence was back again as Azrial stared at the flames licking at the metal. She seemed lost in thought, and Dean wondered if he should leave her to it. As it was, he hadn't meant to get caught up in a conversation with her.

"What happened to Cassius?"

The question had slipped out before he could stop himself. Azrial shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, there was a deep sadness radiating from her.

"He was murdered," she said. "And I couldn't do a Father-be-damned thing to stop it."

Dean jolted at the curse, surprised at her use of it. He'd heard Gabriel say something similar but never Azrial. She tended to avoid using God's name in any way if she could help it.

"You never said how…" he trailed off, unsure if he should even bring up where his mind had gone.

"Dean," Azrial began with a touch of warning in her voice. "Choose your next question carefully."

"Never mind," he muttered. "Was a dumb question anyway."

Azrial sighed, running a soot-stained hand through her hair. "No, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. It's just a sore subject and one I haven't even broached with Bobby or Crowley."

"You knew what I was gonna ask, huh?"

"It's the question on everyone's mind, but no one but Bobby has had the balls to ask it, and he let the subject die out of respect." Azrial leaned against the anvil, smiling sadly. "After all, it's hard to ignore that Marcus and I avoid speaking of his death."

"Yeah, well, I've always been shit at reading the room."

"You really aren't," she said. "But it's okay. It's history."

"Can't make it any easier. I could probably live hundreds of years, and the deaths of my friends and family would still weigh on me."

A comfortable silence fell over them as Azrial went back to watching the flames. The sound of footsteps approaching had Dean pulling his eyes away from the forge. Marcus was approaching, and the man looked surprised to see him there. Dean smiled easily, trying to forget the fact he'd been about to ask how the man had kicked the bucket.

"I did not expect to find you both here," Marcus said in greeting. "Dean, your mate is looking for you."

Dean flushed at the blunt statement but couldn't stop himself from chuckling. "Thanks for letting me know. I better go see what he wants."

He glanced at Azrial, wondering if she wanted him to stick around or not. She tilted her head, lips twitching slightly. The appreciation shining in her eyes was clear, but he got the sense she'd be fine.

"It's a long walk back," Azrial said. "Better get going if you want to grab lunch."

Dean nodded to them both and made his way out of the forge. He hadn't really tackled the issue he'd wanted to discuss, but he couldn't help but think his conversation still left Azrial in a better mood than when he first arrived. He hoped Marcus didn't fuck up all his hard work.

Line Break

Marcus waited until Dean was out of sight before turning to observe Azrial. She'd reached into the flames to pull the metal she was shaping back onto the anvil. He still marveled at how easy she made it all look, but he always put that down to her divinity.

"I assumed you'd be training," Azrial said.

"I trained earlier with Dean and just finished with Sam."

She hummed but didn't comment further. He understood her frustration with him, just as he knew she understood why he'd done it. Then again, perhaps it was time to clarify it, just to ensure they were on the same page.

"I am sorry I have caused you pain, my goddess. I cannot truthfully say I am sorry I helped your amators, though."

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, not bothering to look at him. "I appreciate your words, but they are a poor attempt to soothe the pain you helped cause."

Marcus sighed, knowing he should have expected the cold shoulder from her regardless of shared understanding.

"Your pain is purely based on fear," he chided gently. "Have faith in them."

Azrial bared her teeth in displeasure, akin to a furious wolf, but didn't turn it directly on him. Frustration was rolling off her as she continued to work on whatever creation sat on the anvil.

"They do it from a place of eros, my goddess. Is that not enough to forgive them?"

She spun on him, pointing the hammer at his face. It was only years of being a soldier that stopped him from flinching.

"Eros makes us selfish, Paterfamilias Valerius!" she snarled angrily. "It makes us forget our choices affect everyone around us, even those we foolishly try to protect."

"They are making the right choice," he said. "You need a right hand."

"I don't care!" she screamed, the ground shaking slightly in her fury. "I want them safe—that was the whole point of bringing them here!"

"So, you would condemn them to your own death?" Marcus asked coldly. "Or do you think I am foolish enough to have missed your new self-sacrificing nature?"

Azrial reared back, her eyes wide at his verbal lashing. He wasn't sure if it was from calling out her tendencies or if she was finally starting to see the situation clearly.

"How dare you?" she asked, growling low in her throat.

"When have I ever held my tongue in your presence?" he demanded. "Why would I start now, goddess?"

Her silver eyes burned with a maelstrom of emotions, and she gripped the hammer to the point her already pale knuckles turned white. Somewhere in Elysium, he was sure Giaus was questioning his sanity for pointing all this out while Azrial had a perfectly usable weapon in her hand.

"To think I recently told Rowena you always diverted to my desires." Azrial scoffed, turning away from him. "Perhaps time has created a rosy tint to my past."

"This is not something as simple as wanting more vines brought in or to tutor the children yourself," Marcus said. "This is your life, Azrial. Do not discard it so easily."

"Leave me," she growled. "Before I say something I regret."

The tension in her shoulders made him bite his tongue. She'd listened, and for now, that's all he could hope for. As he'd said to Bobby and Crowley, it was up to them to truly smooth things over with Azrial. He could only lay a few stones to pave the rough ground.

"As you wish, but I advise you not to miss dinner again. Gossip is starting to spread."

"Of fucking course it is," she muttered and brought the hammer down with more force than needed.

Marcus took that as his queue to leave the area. After all, a smart soldier knew when to retreat.