Let Your Grace Guide You: Chapter One
Let Your Grace Guide You
Masterpost
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
He had several hours still ahead of him on the road to Cicero, but Dean intended to drive it all in one shot. He had no plan of stopping and renting a room at a motel. He didn’t want to spend the night alone. He didn’t want to look over at the empty bed on the other side of the room and let his thoughts drift to his brother. It’d be too much...
He flipped through the radio stations hoping to find something to keep his mind off things. He knew if he tried to listen to any of his usual tapes he’d start thinking about Sam again. Right now he needed something new, something he never listened to before. Unfortunately, the only radio stations he could find on this long stretch of deserted highway either talked about strange worldwide natural disasters or was one of those modern rock stations Sam had always listened to when he drove. And those thoughts brought Dean back to treacherous ground again, so he turned the radio off and resigned himself to a lonely, silent ride.
Dean rolled down the window and let the cool night air blow in. By this time he was pretty sure he'd been awake since Tuesday, and it was Friday. It was nearly Saturday now, actually. The incoming chill made him more alert and he welcomed any help he could get, now that he was alone...now that he had only himself to rely on. The sound of the wind rushing through the open window and the engine revving as he raced down the highway was almost enough to drown out his troubled thoughts.
The sky seemed brighter that night. It was almost like he could see stars he’d never seen before. Even the light pollution from the Impala’s headlights couldn’t drown out the stars’ intensity. But it was even more than that; he could see colors swirling in the sky he was sure hadn’t been there before. In a way, it reminded him of the swirling skies in Heaven. Maybe he’d died back at Stull and this was the Axis Mundi. Maybe it really was all over for him.
The red light on the dashboard pulled him out of this train of thought. Surely the Impala wouldn’t be running on empty in Heaven. If everything was supposed to be so perfect there, then his baby would never run out of fuel. He hadn’t checked the gas tank since before Sam had said yes to Lucifer. That was nearly a week ago. He was usually pretty on top of taking care of the Impala, but he’d been a little too preoccupied with the apocalypse to really look at the fuel gauge.
About ten minutes later he pulled into a small gas station just off the highway. As the tank was filling up he went into the snack shop in search of sustenance; now that his adrenaline was slowly returning to normal levels, he knew he was going to need something solid to keep him going.
He gathered various salty snacks that’d hold him over for the rest of the drive, but the sight of the man behind the counter made him double take. His face looked like it had been charred to a crisp--dark, chalky, and cracked flesh barely hanging on to his bones. His eyes were demon black and a dark smokey aura clung to his skin, subtly shifting like fog on dry ice when wet. Dean remembered this look. He’d seen these creatures when he was beginning to pierce the veil. This is what Ruby looked like in those final days before Dean was torn to shreds by Lillith’s Hellhounds.
Before Dean had a chance to react another customer brushed past him and approached the register. The woman didn’t appear to be seeing the same features that he was seeing. Or if she was, she was taking the rather grotesque display in a surprisingly calm manner. She purchased her items and left the store without so much as a second look at the cashier. The woman did, however, raise an eyebrow at Dean who had been standing awkwardly in the middle of the candy aisle for several minutes.
“Need help finding anything, sir?” the cashier asked. Dean fought hard to look at the man without reacting to what he was seeing. His hunting instincts screamed that this “man” was something else, something unnatural that he needed to stop, but the other customer's reaction was throwing him off. Was he cracking? Did the trauma of losing Sam, on top of the damage from all those torturous years in Hell, finally destroy the last vestige of sanity that he'd been desperately clinging to?
“Sir?”
“No, sorry, I’ve had a long drive,” Dean said as he stepped forward and placed his items on the counter. He blinked a few times, but the creature in front of him remained exactly as it had been when he’d first noticed it. Had it been that way when he first got here? He wasn’t sure. He’d headed straight for the potato chip aisle. Why was it here? Why would a demon be hanging out in a rest stop? Were they following him? Nothing made sense.
“Where you comin’ from?”
“Kansas,” Dean said as he averted his eyes to his snack foods. He watched as the demon’s hideous hands scanned each individual item set on the counter. The idea that those burned and mangled claws were handling his food made Dean nauseous.
“Kansas,” the cashier repeated as he started bagging Dean’s food. “I’ve got some family in Lawrence.”
“Me too,” Dean said as he made an effort to look at something else. Anything else. Dean's gaze flit from the lotto tickets to the energy drink display to the cigarettes. “Or at least I did have family there. A while ago...”
“You don’t say. Small world, isn’t it?” When Dean looked up the creature seemed to be smirking at him. At least that’s what it looked like; it was hard to tell since the face barely resembled a human anymore. “With the pump there your total’s $54.11.”
Dean practically threw his cash on the counter and dashed out of the store with his snacks in hand. He had an overwhelming urge to take up Ruby's old knife and drive it through one of creature's pitch black eyes. After years of training, it's become instinct to eliminate monsters on sight. But if he was the only one seeing it, there’s a good chance that thing behind the counter could be human. Then Dean would be a murderer. He couldn’t trust his own eyes.
--
A few miles further down the road Dean pulled over and dialed Bobby.
“Dean?”
“I’ve got a problem.”
“Already? We just finished the apocalypse.”
“Yeah, look, I know, but I think that’s part of the problem.”
“Hold on, kid. Start over. I’m not following you.”
“I...I think I saw a demon. Like, a real demon’s face. Not just a guy in a meatsuit, but--”
“Wait, how do you know that’s what you saw?”
“Because that’s what they looked before I became a Hellhound’s chew toy.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Bobby?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to question your experience recognizing demons.”
“No, I’m questioning it too. I mean, the demons in Hell didn’t have bodies. They were just burning, rotting...things. But the demons before looked like this when they were possessing humans. Ruby looked like this. So did Lillith. I would have said ‘Christo’ but it’s not like I would have been able to tell if he reacted or not. His face was way too gross.”
“Did you kill it?”
“No. I mean, there was another person in the store and she didn’t see anything strange. I don’t know. I...I think I’m losing my mind here, Bobby.”
“Now, hold on. Let’s not jump to that conclusion just yet.”
“Well, why not? Who the hell sees demon faces unless they’re on a one-way path to being a hellhound’s bitch or full on Girl, Interrupted meets Hannibal Lector, sign me up for a straitjacket, crazy? I think...I think I need to turn around and head to your place.”
Bobby was silent for a few seconds. “You’re always welcome here, Dean, but Lisa--”
“If I’m losing it, I don’t want to subject her to that. And if I’m not losing it, well, I’m piercing the veil and I don’t want her to have a dead boyfriend on her front porch either.”
“Alright. Head on over. I’ll have a bed made up for you.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
-
Dean made it to Bobby’s house in record time. His single tank of gas barely made it the entire way, but he was in no mood to stop and have another bizarre encounter, so he pushed it to its limit. By the time he made it to Sioux Falls he was sure the Impala was running on fumes. Bobby greeted him at the door with a beer in hand and they settled in the living room.
“I’ve been readin’,” Bobby said and he started rifling through the open books on the coffee table. “Don’t think you’re destined to be a chew toy this time, kid.”
“Then what?”
“Well, the list of creatures that can see a demon’s true face is short. Basically, it’s just other demons, angels, and certain types of mediums.”
“Well, as far as I know I’m not an angel or a demon, so--” When Bobby just shrugged in response Dean took a long drink of his beer. “I don’t think so. If I was a medium I think I would have known something by now.”
“Maybe the apocalypse knocked something loose. I don’t know. Or maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. When's the last time you slept? And I don't mean a catnap in the back of the Impala. I mean six to eight, Dean. You went to Hell, literally, and you saw a lot of shit, and you come back here and had to deal with Lilith breaking the seals and Sam's addiction and angels wanting to ride you worse than any demon could and you've been falling in the bottle harder than your daddy ever did. You've been going full throttle for so long that...”
"That what, Bobby? I'm crazy now?” Dean tried his best to look offended, but he was beginning to question his own sanity anyway. He was more worried that his initial assumption that he’d lost his mind was right on the mark than he was offended.
“I'm not saying that you’re crazy. I'm saying that you're tired. You need a vacation, and maybe you need to lay off the hunter's helper."
“Maybe you're right, but maybe the apocalypse did knock something loose up there. I don’t know. But I think you should lock me in the panic room for the night. If I’m not losing it and something bad is happening to me then it’s not safe to have me out here.”
“Dean, I don’t think--”
“No, Bobby, we’ve lost enough these past few days. I’m not taking any more chances.”
“Fine,” Bobby said as he shut one of the books and folded his arms. “I’ll lock you in there, but if this isn’t some sort of psychic mumbo jumbo, you’re probably just suffering from PTSD or something. I think locking you in the panic room might be a little overboard.”
“Maybe, but like I said, no more chances. If there’s even a small possibility that something’s wrong, I’m locking myself up for the night.”
“Alright,” Bobby sighed as he crossed the room towards the door. “I’ll get the cot set up.”
-
Dean wasn’t sure if he had nodded off or not. It was hard to tell how long had passed when the only source of light was a flickering fluorescent bulb on the other side of the devil’s trap-shaped ceiling vent. The last time Dean had looked at his watch it was just past 3 AM, but he didn’t really want to look again. Maybe it was just better to ignore the passage of time and try to be completely dead to the world for a while. He shut his eyes and tried to force himself asleep.
A warm feeling began to stir in his chest and he opened his eyes again. He was sure that this time he’d awoken from a deep sleep, but he wasn’t quite sure how long it’d lasted. It could have been minutes or hours, even days. But what was even more alarming than his initial disorientation was how the strange sensation in his chest seemed to come out of nowhere and completely take over his senses. He couldn’t think of anything other than the warmth.
He touched his hand to his chest and shut his eyes again. Something about the feeling was familiar. It felt like Cas’ healing touch, only much deeper. It seemed to go all the way down to his very soul instead of merely dancing across his bruised and battered skin as it mended his cells back together. He splayed his fingers across his ribs, which seemed to make the thought of Cas become even more prominent in his mind, and took a moment to bask in the pleasant sensation the warmth seemed to be causing.
Dean opened his eyes again and looked around the room. It was too dark for him to make anything out, but Cas was there somewhere. He could sense him stronger than he ever could before.
“Cas?”
The angel stepped out of the shadows and into the shaft of light in the middle of the room.
“Hello, Dean.”
“How the fuck did you know I was here?”
“I removed the Enochian from your ribs. I can sense where you are now.”
“What?” Dean snapped. His hand immediately went to his chest again and he started to panic. “Why’d you do that? Can’t any dick with wings find me now?”
“I was telling you the truth when I said the other angels had moved on from you. With events unfolding as they have, you hold very little interest to them at this point.”
“Yeah, but for how long? I mean, you could have just left them. What’s the harm in that?”
“I wanted to be able to find you in case of an emergency.”
Dean raised his eyebrows at that and found himself at a loss for words. He sat up on the cot to get comfortable, sensing that this conversation might last a while. He might as well get cozy. He puffed up a pillow against the wall, leaned back against it and looked up at Cas.
“It almost sounds like you’re volunteering to be my personal guardian angel,” Dean said.
“Maybe I am,” Cas responded seriously. Once again Dean found himself speechless. He cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
“So...what are you doing here anyway?”
“You were not at Lisa’s. I was curious as to why.”
“Yeah I... I’m kind of having complications.”
“Complications?”
“Something’s just...off,” Dean explained as he gestured vaguely towards his head.
“How so?”
“Things are just, I don’t know, brighter. More intense. It’s like everything’s turned up to eleven,” he said, laughing slightly at what he thought was a decently witty reference. When Castiel stared at him blankly he rolled his eyes and continued explaining. “The lights, the sounds. I think I even saw the face of a demon. Like a real face. I don’t know, though. I think I was the only one who saw it. And I feel things; weird things. When you popped into the room it felt like, I don’t know, really fucking hot in my chest,” he said as he tapped his ribcage.
Castiel sat on the edge of the cot next to Dean and gently rested his hand against Dean’s chest. Dean felt the same heat bubble up in him at the points where Castiel’s fingers made contact. It reminded Dean of those static electricity balls he always saw in shop windows as a kid. He could imagine the beams of electricity connecting with Cas’ fingertips just like the toys. Only, it wasn’t an electrical feeling. It was just...warm and happy. Dean had never felt anything like it on a physical or emotional level.
Cas removed his hand and the sensation immediately lessened. It took a moment for Cas to take his eyes off Dean’s chest, but when he finally looked up at him his expression was practically unreadable. Dean wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved that Cas didn’t seem alarmed. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe it was just PTSD.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said calmly. A small wave of panic shot through Dean.
“Sorry? What? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.” Dean lifted an eyebrow and gestured vaguely for him to explain more. “What I mean is that when I healed you, I healed all of you so you’re different, but not ‘wrong.’”
“What, and you didn’t do that when you resurrected me the first time?”
“There were certain things that I was unable heal. Things that happened to you in Hell.” Dean winced and looked away. The last thing he wanted to think about was the damage he sustained in Hell. It hurt too much to think that Sammy was going through that now. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Dean. Your soul wasn’t damaged, despite what you’ve been through. What I meant is that your time in Hell numbed you to certain abilities you would have had as a vessel.”
“I don’t remember seeing all this shit before getting dragged to Hell. And fuck, if Sam had been seeing any of this shit lately he would have said something.”
“Those particular attributes aren’t vessel abilities. Those are... well...” Cas trailed off and started to rub the back of his neck nervously.
“Out with it, Cas.”
Cas sighed and looked down at his own hands. “It is residual. With my resurrection, I was unaccustomed to my new strength,” he said with some regret. His hands fidgeted uncomfortably on his lap. “When I attempted to wash the remnants of Hell from your soul I may have poured too much of my Grace into you and...some of it may have inadvertently stayed behind.”
“What, you left some of your mojo in me? So I’m part angel now?”
“No,” Cas said firmly. “Well, not exactly. Though you do have some remnants of my Grace blanketing your soul.”
“Okay, but what the fuck is going on? How can I see a demon’s face?”
“Hell’s influence hindered your abilities. Heaven’s influence appears to be amplifying them.”
Dean went silent and thought over what that meant. He was still human, but his senses seemed to be enhanced. Sure, it was confusing to understand them, but they could be helpful. It wasn’t like Sam with the demon blood. There were no victims in this. There was nobody else involved except for Castiel. And unlike Ruby, Cas had proven time and time again that he could be trusted. This could be a good thing.
“Could this help me get Sammy out of Hell?”
“Dean--”
“No. Cas, I’m doing this,” he said as he put his hand up to stop the conversation. He could tell by the look on the angel’s face that he was going to try and talk him out of it. But his mind was made up already. “He tried for months to get me out. How could I not do the same for him?”
“It’s possible.” Cas paused and thought about it. “It could give you certain benefits as far as Hell is concerned. My Grace may allow you to cross over into Heaven or Hell without having to die. But you have to understand, Dean, when I rescued you I had dozens of other angels with me. We fought through thousands of demons to get your soul.”
“Can’t you round up some of your angel buddies to help? You’ve gotta still have some friends up there.”
“I do,” Cas said quietly. “But not many.”
“Cas,” Dean said, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, there has to be...there has to be something you can do? This is Sam we’re talking about...”
Cas hesitated for a moment, but eventually sighed. “I suppose I can ask. Though I make no promises that they will assist us.”
“‘Us?’ So you’re gonna help?”
“Of course, Dean. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. You just lost an archangel upstairs. Figured you had better shit to do.”
“As you say, Dean, this is Sam. How could I not try?”
Castiel suddenly went absolutely still and stared straight ahead without blinking. Dean wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to take or what he was supposed to do when Castiel was tuning in to Angel Radio. After several awkward minutes, Dean began to debate lying down and trying to get back to sleep, but before he could come to a decision Castiel blinked and looked to the floor. It was the first indication that Cas was back with him and he sat up a little straighter.
“Well?” Cas looked up at him and Dean could tell what the answer was just by the look of disappointment on his face. “Why not?”
“Raphael won’t allow it.”
“What, he’s calling the shots now?”
“He’s the last archangel in Heaven, Dean.”
“Yeah, well, fuck that guy. He blew you up. We don’t need his permission to get my brother out of Hell.”
“Heaven isn’t known for its Free Will, Dean. None of the other angels see it like we do.”
Dean folded his arms and huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. You’re still in?”
“Of course. As you said, ‘fuck that guy.’”
Dean couldn’t contain his laughter. Hearing Castiel curse never ceased to amaze him. Uttering the words seemed like a painful experience, but Cas gave it his all.
“Yeah,” Dean said as he reached over and pat Cas on the shoulder. “Fuck that guy.”
Dean let his hand drop back down onto the mattress and tilted his head back against the wall. He wasn’t ready to give up. As far as he was concerned, he’d barely just begun to formulate a plan. If the angels weren’t going to help, he’d just have to find something as powerful or, hell, even more powerful than them.
“You know, Sam went to Hell whole, but he's not supposed to be there, not really,” Dean said as he stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. Nothing else mattered. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked at Cas whose eyes were already locked on him. “Couldn't we get a Reaper to take his soul out of Hell? His and Adam's?”
“Dean,” Cas said with a sigh. Once again the look on Cas’ face told Dean almost everything he needed to know about the situation, but Cas explained anyway. “A Reaper doesn't have the power to cross planes. They can escort a soul to the gates but no further.”
“Then we ask the Man in Charge. He was pretty nice in a creepy ‘have some candy little kid’ kinda way. He’s gotta be able to do it.”
“That would be ill advised,” Cas said flatly. “Death isn't something that you can bribe or deal with, you would have to bind him to your will.” Dean tried to interrupt, but Cas simply held a hand up to quiet Dean and continued speaking. “You and your brother once came across a bound Reaper, correct?” Dean nodded. “And when released the Reaper turned on the one to whom it was bound. What Death would do is not even worth contemplating. Even Angels fear Death.
“There has to be another way, and we will find it,” Cas said firmly. “Together.”
Dean shut his eyes and bowed his head. The frustration in him was so intense he wanted to cry. But he knew that if he started, it’d be hard to stop, and he didn’t want to waste time he could be spending trying to get Sam out of Hell. He even felt guilty about sleeping, though taking a few hours nap here and there was slightly more justifiable in his mind. He just wanted to shut out his feelings and focus on the task at hand. He was a hunter. He had a job to do.
He felt Castiel shift on the cot and he opened his eyes. Cas had moved up to sit at the head of the cot beside him. It was already a tight fit for Dean to sleep on it, but he found that he wasn’t too bothered by having Cas so close. He was already so used to Cas invading his personal space it just felt like he belonged there.
Without thinking Dean leaned over and rested his head against Cas’ shoulder. It didn’t strike him how intimate this gesture was until a few seconds later when Castiel put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. A small amount of panic rose at that moment when the idea that was essentially cuddling with a messenger of God sunk in, but it was quickly drowned out by the warmth stirring in his chest. It seemed to spread throughout his entire body and relax him in a way even the strongest whiskey couldn’t accomplish.
He let himself be held like that for several minutes, just basking in the feeling of contentment that Castiel’s Grace seemed to cause when the angel was near. He was sure they had a long road ahead of them; moments like this might be too few and far between. He needed to enjoy the rare peaceful moments that came his way. Cas seemed to feel the same way, judging by the way that he comfortably settled into the embrace.
When Dean heard Bobby moving around upstairs he knew the moment had come to an end. It was time to get back to the task at hand. He had to rescue Sam. And he had to do it now.
Chapter Two >
Masterpost
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
He had several hours still ahead of him on the road to Cicero, but Dean intended to drive it all in one shot. He had no plan of stopping and renting a room at a motel. He didn’t want to spend the night alone. He didn’t want to look over at the empty bed on the other side of the room and let his thoughts drift to his brother. It’d be too much...
He flipped through the radio stations hoping to find something to keep his mind off things. He knew if he tried to listen to any of his usual tapes he’d start thinking about Sam again. Right now he needed something new, something he never listened to before. Unfortunately, the only radio stations he could find on this long stretch of deserted highway either talked about strange worldwide natural disasters or was one of those modern rock stations Sam had always listened to when he drove. And those thoughts brought Dean back to treacherous ground again, so he turned the radio off and resigned himself to a lonely, silent ride.
Dean rolled down the window and let the cool night air blow in. By this time he was pretty sure he'd been awake since Tuesday, and it was Friday. It was nearly Saturday now, actually. The incoming chill made him more alert and he welcomed any help he could get, now that he was alone...now that he had only himself to rely on. The sound of the wind rushing through the open window and the engine revving as he raced down the highway was almost enough to drown out his troubled thoughts.
The sky seemed brighter that night. It was almost like he could see stars he’d never seen before. Even the light pollution from the Impala’s headlights couldn’t drown out the stars’ intensity. But it was even more than that; he could see colors swirling in the sky he was sure hadn’t been there before. In a way, it reminded him of the swirling skies in Heaven. Maybe he’d died back at Stull and this was the Axis Mundi. Maybe it really was all over for him.
The red light on the dashboard pulled him out of this train of thought. Surely the Impala wouldn’t be running on empty in Heaven. If everything was supposed to be so perfect there, then his baby would never run out of fuel. He hadn’t checked the gas tank since before Sam had said yes to Lucifer. That was nearly a week ago. He was usually pretty on top of taking care of the Impala, but he’d been a little too preoccupied with the apocalypse to really look at the fuel gauge.
About ten minutes later he pulled into a small gas station just off the highway. As the tank was filling up he went into the snack shop in search of sustenance; now that his adrenaline was slowly returning to normal levels, he knew he was going to need something solid to keep him going.
He gathered various salty snacks that’d hold him over for the rest of the drive, but the sight of the man behind the counter made him double take. His face looked like it had been charred to a crisp--dark, chalky, and cracked flesh barely hanging on to his bones. His eyes were demon black and a dark smokey aura clung to his skin, subtly shifting like fog on dry ice when wet. Dean remembered this look. He’d seen these creatures when he was beginning to pierce the veil. This is what Ruby looked like in those final days before Dean was torn to shreds by Lillith’s Hellhounds.
Before Dean had a chance to react another customer brushed past him and approached the register. The woman didn’t appear to be seeing the same features that he was seeing. Or if she was, she was taking the rather grotesque display in a surprisingly calm manner. She purchased her items and left the store without so much as a second look at the cashier. The woman did, however, raise an eyebrow at Dean who had been standing awkwardly in the middle of the candy aisle for several minutes.
“Need help finding anything, sir?” the cashier asked. Dean fought hard to look at the man without reacting to what he was seeing. His hunting instincts screamed that this “man” was something else, something unnatural that he needed to stop, but the other customer's reaction was throwing him off. Was he cracking? Did the trauma of losing Sam, on top of the damage from all those torturous years in Hell, finally destroy the last vestige of sanity that he'd been desperately clinging to?
“Sir?”
“No, sorry, I’ve had a long drive,” Dean said as he stepped forward and placed his items on the counter. He blinked a few times, but the creature in front of him remained exactly as it had been when he’d first noticed it. Had it been that way when he first got here? He wasn’t sure. He’d headed straight for the potato chip aisle. Why was it here? Why would a demon be hanging out in a rest stop? Were they following him? Nothing made sense.
“Where you comin’ from?”
“Kansas,” Dean said as he averted his eyes to his snack foods. He watched as the demon’s hideous hands scanned each individual item set on the counter. The idea that those burned and mangled claws were handling his food made Dean nauseous.
“Kansas,” the cashier repeated as he started bagging Dean’s food. “I’ve got some family in Lawrence.”
“Me too,” Dean said as he made an effort to look at something else. Anything else. Dean's gaze flit from the lotto tickets to the energy drink display to the cigarettes. “Or at least I did have family there. A while ago...”
“You don’t say. Small world, isn’t it?” When Dean looked up the creature seemed to be smirking at him. At least that’s what it looked like; it was hard to tell since the face barely resembled a human anymore. “With the pump there your total’s $54.11.”
Dean practically threw his cash on the counter and dashed out of the store with his snacks in hand. He had an overwhelming urge to take up Ruby's old knife and drive it through one of creature's pitch black eyes. After years of training, it's become instinct to eliminate monsters on sight. But if he was the only one seeing it, there’s a good chance that thing behind the counter could be human. Then Dean would be a murderer. He couldn’t trust his own eyes.
--
A few miles further down the road Dean pulled over and dialed Bobby.
“Dean?”
“I’ve got a problem.”
“Already? We just finished the apocalypse.”
“Yeah, look, I know, but I think that’s part of the problem.”
“Hold on, kid. Start over. I’m not following you.”
“I...I think I saw a demon. Like, a real demon’s face. Not just a guy in a meatsuit, but--”
“Wait, how do you know that’s what you saw?”
“Because that’s what they looked before I became a Hellhound’s chew toy.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Bobby?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to question your experience recognizing demons.”
“No, I’m questioning it too. I mean, the demons in Hell didn’t have bodies. They were just burning, rotting...things. But the demons before looked like this when they were possessing humans. Ruby looked like this. So did Lillith. I would have said ‘Christo’ but it’s not like I would have been able to tell if he reacted or not. His face was way too gross.”
“Did you kill it?”
“No. I mean, there was another person in the store and she didn’t see anything strange. I don’t know. I...I think I’m losing my mind here, Bobby.”
“Now, hold on. Let’s not jump to that conclusion just yet.”
“Well, why not? Who the hell sees demon faces unless they’re on a one-way path to being a hellhound’s bitch or full on Girl, Interrupted meets Hannibal Lector, sign me up for a straitjacket, crazy? I think...I think I need to turn around and head to your place.”
Bobby was silent for a few seconds. “You’re always welcome here, Dean, but Lisa--”
“If I’m losing it, I don’t want to subject her to that. And if I’m not losing it, well, I’m piercing the veil and I don’t want her to have a dead boyfriend on her front porch either.”
“Alright. Head on over. I’ll have a bed made up for you.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
-
Dean made it to Bobby’s house in record time. His single tank of gas barely made it the entire way, but he was in no mood to stop and have another bizarre encounter, so he pushed it to its limit. By the time he made it to Sioux Falls he was sure the Impala was running on fumes. Bobby greeted him at the door with a beer in hand and they settled in the living room.
“I’ve been readin’,” Bobby said and he started rifling through the open books on the coffee table. “Don’t think you’re destined to be a chew toy this time, kid.”
“Then what?”
“Well, the list of creatures that can see a demon’s true face is short. Basically, it’s just other demons, angels, and certain types of mediums.”
“Well, as far as I know I’m not an angel or a demon, so--” When Bobby just shrugged in response Dean took a long drink of his beer. “I don’t think so. If I was a medium I think I would have known something by now.”
“Maybe the apocalypse knocked something loose. I don’t know. Or maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. When's the last time you slept? And I don't mean a catnap in the back of the Impala. I mean six to eight, Dean. You went to Hell, literally, and you saw a lot of shit, and you come back here and had to deal with Lilith breaking the seals and Sam's addiction and angels wanting to ride you worse than any demon could and you've been falling in the bottle harder than your daddy ever did. You've been going full throttle for so long that...”
"That what, Bobby? I'm crazy now?” Dean tried his best to look offended, but he was beginning to question his own sanity anyway. He was more worried that his initial assumption that he’d lost his mind was right on the mark than he was offended.
“I'm not saying that you’re crazy. I'm saying that you're tired. You need a vacation, and maybe you need to lay off the hunter's helper."
“Maybe you're right, but maybe the apocalypse did knock something loose up there. I don’t know. But I think you should lock me in the panic room for the night. If I’m not losing it and something bad is happening to me then it’s not safe to have me out here.”
“Dean, I don’t think--”
“No, Bobby, we’ve lost enough these past few days. I’m not taking any more chances.”
“Fine,” Bobby said as he shut one of the books and folded his arms. “I’ll lock you in there, but if this isn’t some sort of psychic mumbo jumbo, you’re probably just suffering from PTSD or something. I think locking you in the panic room might be a little overboard.”
“Maybe, but like I said, no more chances. If there’s even a small possibility that something’s wrong, I’m locking myself up for the night.”
“Alright,” Bobby sighed as he crossed the room towards the door. “I’ll get the cot set up.”
-
Dean wasn’t sure if he had nodded off or not. It was hard to tell how long had passed when the only source of light was a flickering fluorescent bulb on the other side of the devil’s trap-shaped ceiling vent. The last time Dean had looked at his watch it was just past 3 AM, but he didn’t really want to look again. Maybe it was just better to ignore the passage of time and try to be completely dead to the world for a while. He shut his eyes and tried to force himself asleep.
A warm feeling began to stir in his chest and he opened his eyes again. He was sure that this time he’d awoken from a deep sleep, but he wasn’t quite sure how long it’d lasted. It could have been minutes or hours, even days. But what was even more alarming than his initial disorientation was how the strange sensation in his chest seemed to come out of nowhere and completely take over his senses. He couldn’t think of anything other than the warmth.
He touched his hand to his chest and shut his eyes again. Something about the feeling was familiar. It felt like Cas’ healing touch, only much deeper. It seemed to go all the way down to his very soul instead of merely dancing across his bruised and battered skin as it mended his cells back together. He splayed his fingers across his ribs, which seemed to make the thought of Cas become even more prominent in his mind, and took a moment to bask in the pleasant sensation the warmth seemed to be causing.
Dean opened his eyes again and looked around the room. It was too dark for him to make anything out, but Cas was there somewhere. He could sense him stronger than he ever could before.
“Cas?”
The angel stepped out of the shadows and into the shaft of light in the middle of the room.
“Hello, Dean.”
“How the fuck did you know I was here?”
“I removed the Enochian from your ribs. I can sense where you are now.”
“What?” Dean snapped. His hand immediately went to his chest again and he started to panic. “Why’d you do that? Can’t any dick with wings find me now?”
“I was telling you the truth when I said the other angels had moved on from you. With events unfolding as they have, you hold very little interest to them at this point.”
“Yeah, but for how long? I mean, you could have just left them. What’s the harm in that?”
“I wanted to be able to find you in case of an emergency.”
Dean raised his eyebrows at that and found himself at a loss for words. He sat up on the cot to get comfortable, sensing that this conversation might last a while. He might as well get cozy. He puffed up a pillow against the wall, leaned back against it and looked up at Cas.
“It almost sounds like you’re volunteering to be my personal guardian angel,” Dean said.
“Maybe I am,” Cas responded seriously. Once again Dean found himself speechless. He cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
“So...what are you doing here anyway?”
“You were not at Lisa’s. I was curious as to why.”
“Yeah I... I’m kind of having complications.”
“Complications?”
“Something’s just...off,” Dean explained as he gestured vaguely towards his head.
“How so?”
“Things are just, I don’t know, brighter. More intense. It’s like everything’s turned up to eleven,” he said, laughing slightly at what he thought was a decently witty reference. When Castiel stared at him blankly he rolled his eyes and continued explaining. “The lights, the sounds. I think I even saw the face of a demon. Like a real face. I don’t know, though. I think I was the only one who saw it. And I feel things; weird things. When you popped into the room it felt like, I don’t know, really fucking hot in my chest,” he said as he tapped his ribcage.
Castiel sat on the edge of the cot next to Dean and gently rested his hand against Dean’s chest. Dean felt the same heat bubble up in him at the points where Castiel’s fingers made contact. It reminded Dean of those static electricity balls he always saw in shop windows as a kid. He could imagine the beams of electricity connecting with Cas’ fingertips just like the toys. Only, it wasn’t an electrical feeling. It was just...warm and happy. Dean had never felt anything like it on a physical or emotional level.
Cas removed his hand and the sensation immediately lessened. It took a moment for Cas to take his eyes off Dean’s chest, but when he finally looked up at him his expression was practically unreadable. Dean wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved that Cas didn’t seem alarmed. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe it was just PTSD.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said calmly. A small wave of panic shot through Dean.
“Sorry? What? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.” Dean lifted an eyebrow and gestured vaguely for him to explain more. “What I mean is that when I healed you, I healed all of you so you’re different, but not ‘wrong.’”
“What, and you didn’t do that when you resurrected me the first time?”
“There were certain things that I was unable heal. Things that happened to you in Hell.” Dean winced and looked away. The last thing he wanted to think about was the damage he sustained in Hell. It hurt too much to think that Sammy was going through that now. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Dean. Your soul wasn’t damaged, despite what you’ve been through. What I meant is that your time in Hell numbed you to certain abilities you would have had as a vessel.”
“I don’t remember seeing all this shit before getting dragged to Hell. And fuck, if Sam had been seeing any of this shit lately he would have said something.”
“Those particular attributes aren’t vessel abilities. Those are... well...” Cas trailed off and started to rub the back of his neck nervously.
“Out with it, Cas.”
Cas sighed and looked down at his own hands. “It is residual. With my resurrection, I was unaccustomed to my new strength,” he said with some regret. His hands fidgeted uncomfortably on his lap. “When I attempted to wash the remnants of Hell from your soul I may have poured too much of my Grace into you and...some of it may have inadvertently stayed behind.”
“What, you left some of your mojo in me? So I’m part angel now?”
“No,” Cas said firmly. “Well, not exactly. Though you do have some remnants of my Grace blanketing your soul.”
“Okay, but what the fuck is going on? How can I see a demon’s face?”
“Hell’s influence hindered your abilities. Heaven’s influence appears to be amplifying them.”
Dean went silent and thought over what that meant. He was still human, but his senses seemed to be enhanced. Sure, it was confusing to understand them, but they could be helpful. It wasn’t like Sam with the demon blood. There were no victims in this. There was nobody else involved except for Castiel. And unlike Ruby, Cas had proven time and time again that he could be trusted. This could be a good thing.
“Could this help me get Sammy out of Hell?”
“Dean--”
“No. Cas, I’m doing this,” he said as he put his hand up to stop the conversation. He could tell by the look on the angel’s face that he was going to try and talk him out of it. But his mind was made up already. “He tried for months to get me out. How could I not do the same for him?”
“It’s possible.” Cas paused and thought about it. “It could give you certain benefits as far as Hell is concerned. My Grace may allow you to cross over into Heaven or Hell without having to die. But you have to understand, Dean, when I rescued you I had dozens of other angels with me. We fought through thousands of demons to get your soul.”
“Can’t you round up some of your angel buddies to help? You’ve gotta still have some friends up there.”
“I do,” Cas said quietly. “But not many.”
“Cas,” Dean said, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, there has to be...there has to be something you can do? This is Sam we’re talking about...”
Cas hesitated for a moment, but eventually sighed. “I suppose I can ask. Though I make no promises that they will assist us.”
“‘Us?’ So you’re gonna help?”
“Of course, Dean. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. You just lost an archangel upstairs. Figured you had better shit to do.”
“As you say, Dean, this is Sam. How could I not try?”
Castiel suddenly went absolutely still and stared straight ahead without blinking. Dean wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to take or what he was supposed to do when Castiel was tuning in to Angel Radio. After several awkward minutes, Dean began to debate lying down and trying to get back to sleep, but before he could come to a decision Castiel blinked and looked to the floor. It was the first indication that Cas was back with him and he sat up a little straighter.
“Well?” Cas looked up at him and Dean could tell what the answer was just by the look of disappointment on his face. “Why not?”
“Raphael won’t allow it.”
“What, he’s calling the shots now?”
“He’s the last archangel in Heaven, Dean.”
“Yeah, well, fuck that guy. He blew you up. We don’t need his permission to get my brother out of Hell.”
“Heaven isn’t known for its Free Will, Dean. None of the other angels see it like we do.”
Dean folded his arms and huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. You’re still in?”
“Of course. As you said, ‘fuck that guy.’”
Dean couldn’t contain his laughter. Hearing Castiel curse never ceased to amaze him. Uttering the words seemed like a painful experience, but Cas gave it his all.
“Yeah,” Dean said as he reached over and pat Cas on the shoulder. “Fuck that guy.”
Dean let his hand drop back down onto the mattress and tilted his head back against the wall. He wasn’t ready to give up. As far as he was concerned, he’d barely just begun to formulate a plan. If the angels weren’t going to help, he’d just have to find something as powerful or, hell, even more powerful than them.
“You know, Sam went to Hell whole, but he's not supposed to be there, not really,” Dean said as he stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. Nothing else mattered. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked at Cas whose eyes were already locked on him. “Couldn't we get a Reaper to take his soul out of Hell? His and Adam's?”
“Dean,” Cas said with a sigh. Once again the look on Cas’ face told Dean almost everything he needed to know about the situation, but Cas explained anyway. “A Reaper doesn't have the power to cross planes. They can escort a soul to the gates but no further.”
“Then we ask the Man in Charge. He was pretty nice in a creepy ‘have some candy little kid’ kinda way. He’s gotta be able to do it.”
“That would be ill advised,” Cas said flatly. “Death isn't something that you can bribe or deal with, you would have to bind him to your will.” Dean tried to interrupt, but Cas simply held a hand up to quiet Dean and continued speaking. “You and your brother once came across a bound Reaper, correct?” Dean nodded. “And when released the Reaper turned on the one to whom it was bound. What Death would do is not even worth contemplating. Even Angels fear Death.
“There has to be another way, and we will find it,” Cas said firmly. “Together.”
Dean shut his eyes and bowed his head. The frustration in him was so intense he wanted to cry. But he knew that if he started, it’d be hard to stop, and he didn’t want to waste time he could be spending trying to get Sam out of Hell. He even felt guilty about sleeping, though taking a few hours nap here and there was slightly more justifiable in his mind. He just wanted to shut out his feelings and focus on the task at hand. He was a hunter. He had a job to do.
He felt Castiel shift on the cot and he opened his eyes. Cas had moved up to sit at the head of the cot beside him. It was already a tight fit for Dean to sleep on it, but he found that he wasn’t too bothered by having Cas so close. He was already so used to Cas invading his personal space it just felt like he belonged there.
Without thinking Dean leaned over and rested his head against Cas’ shoulder. It didn’t strike him how intimate this gesture was until a few seconds later when Castiel put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. A small amount of panic rose at that moment when the idea that was essentially cuddling with a messenger of God sunk in, but it was quickly drowned out by the warmth stirring in his chest. It seemed to spread throughout his entire body and relax him in a way even the strongest whiskey couldn’t accomplish.
He let himself be held like that for several minutes, just basking in the feeling of contentment that Castiel’s Grace seemed to cause when the angel was near. He was sure they had a long road ahead of them; moments like this might be too few and far between. He needed to enjoy the rare peaceful moments that came his way. Cas seemed to feel the same way, judging by the way that he comfortably settled into the embrace.
When Dean heard Bobby moving around upstairs he knew the moment had come to an end. It was time to get back to the task at hand. He had to rescue Sam. And he had to do it now.
Chapter Two >