Fic: Strange Tilts of Fate [4/5]
Part Four
There’s something relaxing about the dip of the valley as they move into it, finally away from the rough terrain and plunging temperatures of the mountain face. Dean recognizes the same look of contentment on the faces of his companions as the goat trail they’ve been following evens out into something that actually starts to resemble a road once more. Inias has a flat out grin on his face, unusual for the angels amongst them, but then Gabriel’s smiling as well, coaxing even Balthazar into something of a good mood as they continue forward, coming across the first signs of life in ages.
They pass by a handful of homesteads on the way down the mountainside and Dean’s reminded of Lawrence when he sees children bobbing in and out of well-made little cottages, young girls moving about with laundry and farmers working the rough, rocky terrain of the mountainside with work-worn tills. He catches himself waving at them as they pass, grin broadening when they take the time to wave back.
“Do you know them?”
He starts when Castiel brushes up close, the prince’s eyes on the last family that Dean’s shouted a cheerful hello to. His eyes drift back to the family and he leans against Cas familiarly. “Why? Jealous?”
The angel blinks and twists to better watch the family even as they continue to walk past.
“I don’t know them. First time out of Lawrence for me, remember?”
“Oh yes.” Castiel nods and continues forward. “You are not as well-traveled as you would have the rest of us believe, I remember.”
Dean thinks back to his and Castiel’s meeting, the cocky bravado of a farm boy out in the big port city for the first time and he drops his hand on Cas’ shoulder with a grin. “Supposed to be a secret, Cas.”
Castiel looks back at the small party of companions they’ve gathered since leaving Limbus. Chuck and Becky are bickering with one another as they manoeuvre the rough terrain, Tessa laughing quietly at their antics. The angel’s troop forward together, Gabriel telling some particularly animated story as they venture forth, and Crowley -
Wait. Where’s Crowley?
Castiel seems to notice the demon’s absence at the same moment that Dean does, and his sword is out of its sheath in a flash of steel, the action mirrored around them by the rest of the angels.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
“Raphael,” Castiel breathes, startled as the angel in question descends on a Pegasus of his own, eyes hard.
Dean wonders what exactly he’s missing here. Because, Raphael’s a good guy.
Right?
“It’s not necessary for you to draw your weapons, brothers,” there’s something by way of defiance in the way he addresses Gabriel as though he himself were the older one and not the other way around. It’s to him that he turns now, “I see this is where you’ve hidden yourself, Gabriel. Disappeared in the thick of battle to muck around with Castiel and his newfound playmates. Shameful.”
Gabriel flushes but makes no move to defend himself.
“As I thought.” He slides off of his Pegasus carefully, armor clinking with the movement of the dismount. “Your friend, Crowley, has been quite useful in pointing you out to us. You should thank him.”
And there’s the demon, Dean notices, standing amongst Raphael’s warriors, looking perfectly smug.
Raphael holds out a hand and his squadron moves forward as one, catching the four angels amongst their ranks and surrounding them. From the way Balthazar flails out, they have them caught up in some sort of invisible netting. “Such a shame, Castiel that in the end you should put up no fight at all. When I took out your personal guard, I had hoped you would simply give yourself over to me.”
Dean’s brain whirls and he realizes what Raphael means. That Uriel and the other angels charged with protecting Castiel and the fireball that had engulfed them was his doing.
“When you found this one, however,” Dean freezes, realizing that the archangel’s attention rests now on him. “It looked like things were going to get interesting. And yet here we are.”
“He was coming to find you, you know,” Dean can’t help but shout, fury rising up. “He wanted to help you before you turned into this.”
“Turned into?” The angel laughs, flooring Dean with a heavy stare. “This is my choice, human. I’ve joined with my brother and if these two have any brains in their heads, they will join me as well. Castiel’s involvement, however, is going to be a little less voluntary, I’m afraid.”
He’s moving in now and Dean can feel Chuck and Becky stepping to the side, away from him. Dean doesn’t blame them, but chin held high, he holds his own ground.
“You see, Lucifer and I have a particular weapon that’s going to ensure we remain in charge forever.”
“You don’t know what ingesting that many souls is going to do to you,” Tessa states calmly from somewhere to Dean’s right. “That is your plan, isn’t it?”
Raphael turns to peer at her, smiling. “You have a reaper. I should take her too if I thought she’d be of any use. We have all the souls we need. What we need is someone who’s going to eat them for us.” The smile widens. “And it looks like we’ve got four volunteers, right here.” He steps away, climbing back up onto the Pegasus and Dean feels a sudden renewed surge of helplessness as Crowley moves forward, grinning.
“This is where I leave you, boys. You’ll have to forgive me taking off at an inopportune moment, of course, but que sera sera.” Crowley smiles, teeth gleaming as he steps back amidst Raphael’s ranks, Castiel still bound helpless between two of the archangel’s guards, wrapped up tightly in his own wings as are Inias, Gabriel and Balthazar. “Oh, but I’ll leave you with a parting gift of your own, Winchester. Something to remember the prince by.”
The demon takes a step closer to Castiel and Dean wants to lunge at him when Cas flinches, eyes wide when Crowley unbuckles the sheath to his sword from his belt.
Crowley leaves Dean with the sword and the entire company departs as he bends to retrieve it, lashing the leather sheath to his own belt. And like that, they’re left alone, Dean, Chuck, Becky and Tessa. No angels, no Crowley and nothing but the dim recognition that they have to get their friends back in their heads.
They’re saved from having to spend too long deliberating by the flapping of wings in the distance and while Dean tenses for the return appearance of Raphael and his friends, it’s only Rachel, touching down lightly. She dismounts smoothly and closes the distance between Pegasus and Dean. “Where is Gabriel?”
“You just missed him.”
“What?”
Between Chuck, Becky and Tessa, the story comes out, but it’s Chuck who does the best job at explaining the details. Somehow, his narrative bridges all the gaps that Dean had been struggling to understand. What Castiel had feared would happen had and the angels had had to pay the price.
“That can’t be.” Rachel’s eyes skirt around the group as though hoping to find the missing members of their party. “I’ll have to inform Michael. Immediately.” She’s already halfway to the Pegasus when she seems to remember that the four of them are humans - or at least most of them. “You will be alright on your own? The Pegasus can’t support all of you and to make more than one trip - ”
“We’ll be fine,” Tessa speaks up, “Inform Michael. And we’ll do what we can on our own.”
The look on Rachel’s face says that she doesn’t think they can do very much, but she climbs back up onto the Pegasus without questioning the reaper. “Oh. Dean. I’ve been to Lawrence.”
He moves forward immediately, eager for news of his brother. “And?”
“I’m sorry.”
He’s left to wonder what she means as the Pegasus takes to the sky.
* * *
There’s something relaxing about the dip of the valley as they move into it, finally away from the rough terrain and plunging temperatures of the mountain face. Dean recognizes the same look of contentment on the faces of his companions as the goat trail they’ve been following evens out into something that actually starts to resemble a road once more. Inias has a flat out grin on his face, unusual for the angels amongst them, but then Gabriel’s smiling as well, coaxing even Balthazar into something of a good mood as they continue forward, coming across the first signs of life in ages.
They pass by a handful of homesteads on the way down the mountainside and Dean’s reminded of Lawrence when he sees children bobbing in and out of well-made little cottages, young girls moving about with laundry and farmers working the rough, rocky terrain of the mountainside with work-worn tills. He catches himself waving at them as they pass, grin broadening when they take the time to wave back.
“Do you know them?”
He starts when Castiel brushes up close, the prince’s eyes on the last family that Dean’s shouted a cheerful hello to. His eyes drift back to the family and he leans against Cas familiarly. “Why? Jealous?”
The angel blinks and twists to better watch the family even as they continue to walk past.
“I don’t know them. First time out of Lawrence for me, remember?”
“Oh yes.” Castiel nods and continues forward. “You are not as well-traveled as you would have the rest of us believe, I remember.”
Dean thinks back to his and Castiel’s meeting, the cocky bravado of a farm boy out in the big port city for the first time and he drops his hand on Cas’ shoulder with a grin. “Supposed to be a secret, Cas.”
Castiel looks back at the small party of companions they’ve gathered since leaving Limbus. Chuck and Becky are bickering with one another as they manoeuvre the rough terrain, Tessa laughing quietly at their antics. The angel’s troop forward together, Gabriel telling some particularly animated story as they venture forth, and Crowley -
Wait. Where’s Crowley?
Castiel seems to notice the demon’s absence at the same moment that Dean does, and his sword is out of its sheath in a flash of steel, the action mirrored around them by the rest of the angels.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
“Raphael,” Castiel breathes, startled as the angel in question descends on a Pegasus of his own, eyes hard.
Dean wonders what exactly he’s missing here. Because, Raphael’s a good guy.
Right?
“It’s not necessary for you to draw your weapons, brothers,” there’s something by way of defiance in the way he addresses Gabriel as though he himself were the older one and not the other way around. It’s to him that he turns now, “I see this is where you’ve hidden yourself, Gabriel. Disappeared in the thick of battle to muck around with Castiel and his newfound playmates. Shameful.”
Gabriel flushes but makes no move to defend himself.
“As I thought.” He slides off of his Pegasus carefully, armor clinking with the movement of the dismount. “Your friend, Crowley, has been quite useful in pointing you out to us. You should thank him.”
And there’s the demon, Dean notices, standing amongst Raphael’s warriors, looking perfectly smug.
Raphael holds out a hand and his squadron moves forward as one, catching the four angels amongst their ranks and surrounding them. From the way Balthazar flails out, they have them caught up in some sort of invisible netting. “Such a shame, Castiel that in the end you should put up no fight at all. When I took out your personal guard, I had hoped you would simply give yourself over to me.”
Dean’s brain whirls and he realizes what Raphael means. That Uriel and the other angels charged with protecting Castiel and the fireball that had engulfed them was his doing.
“When you found this one, however,” Dean freezes, realizing that the archangel’s attention rests now on him. “It looked like things were going to get interesting. And yet here we are.”
“He was coming to find you, you know,” Dean can’t help but shout, fury rising up. “He wanted to help you before you turned into this.”
“Turned into?” The angel laughs, flooring Dean with a heavy stare. “This is my choice, human. I’ve joined with my brother and if these two have any brains in their heads, they will join me as well. Castiel’s involvement, however, is going to be a little less voluntary, I’m afraid.”
He’s moving in now and Dean can feel Chuck and Becky stepping to the side, away from him. Dean doesn’t blame them, but chin held high, he holds his own ground.
“You see, Lucifer and I have a particular weapon that’s going to ensure we remain in charge forever.”
“You don’t know what ingesting that many souls is going to do to you,” Tessa states calmly from somewhere to Dean’s right. “That is your plan, isn’t it?”
Raphael turns to peer at her, smiling. “You have a reaper. I should take her too if I thought she’d be of any use. We have all the souls we need. What we need is someone who’s going to eat them for us.” The smile widens. “And it looks like we’ve got four volunteers, right here.” He steps away, climbing back up onto the Pegasus and Dean feels a sudden renewed surge of helplessness as Crowley moves forward, grinning.
“This is where I leave you, boys. You’ll have to forgive me taking off at an inopportune moment, of course, but que sera sera.” Crowley smiles, teeth gleaming as he steps back amidst Raphael’s ranks, Castiel still bound helpless between two of the archangel’s guards, wrapped up tightly in his own wings as are Inias, Gabriel and Balthazar. “Oh, but I’ll leave you with a parting gift of your own, Winchester. Something to remember the prince by.”
The demon takes a step closer to Castiel and Dean wants to lunge at him when Cas flinches, eyes wide when Crowley unbuckles the sheath to his sword from his belt.
Crowley leaves Dean with the sword and the entire company departs as he bends to retrieve it, lashing the leather sheath to his own belt. And like that, they’re left alone, Dean, Chuck, Becky and Tessa. No angels, no Crowley and nothing but the dim recognition that they have to get their friends back in their heads.
They’re saved from having to spend too long deliberating by the flapping of wings in the distance and while Dean tenses for the return appearance of Raphael and his friends, it’s only Rachel, touching down lightly. She dismounts smoothly and closes the distance between Pegasus and Dean. “Where is Gabriel?”
“You just missed him.”
“What?”
Between Chuck, Becky and Tessa, the story comes out, but it’s Chuck who does the best job at explaining the details. Somehow, his narrative bridges all the gaps that Dean had been struggling to understand. What Castiel had feared would happen had and the angels had had to pay the price.
“That can’t be.” Rachel’s eyes skirt around the group as though hoping to find the missing members of their party. “I’ll have to inform Michael. Immediately.” She’s already halfway to the Pegasus when she seems to remember that the four of them are humans - or at least most of them. “You will be alright on your own? The Pegasus can’t support all of you and to make more than one trip - ”
“We’ll be fine,” Tessa speaks up, “Inform Michael. And we’ll do what we can on our own.”
The look on Rachel’s face says that she doesn’t think they can do very much, but she climbs back up onto the Pegasus without questioning the reaper. “Oh. Dean. I’ve been to Lawrence.”
He moves forward immediately, eager for news of his brother. “And?”
“I’m sorry.”
He’s left to wonder what she means as the Pegasus takes to the sky.
* * *
The land outside of the castle is barren. An utter, inhospitable wasteland. And Dean can kind of see why Lucifer might want something a little bit more lively as his domain. Ruler of Infernum isn’t necessarily the greatest title when the continent is comprised almost entirely of desert and volcanic rock.
The palace itself reflects the landscape. Built right into one of the mountainous formations, its primary design feature seems to be fortitude and impenetrability. It’s dark and eerie and Dean has absolutely no desire to go in. Especially given the place is startlingly devoid of any sort of military action they can see.
In fact, once down from the mountain, the rest of the trek had been completely devoid of life. Where are the armies, the soldiers, the battles? Dean hasn’t seen a single living being aside from his companions since they left the mountain behind them.
It’s been almost too easy.
Dean takes a step closer to his companions as they enter the palace. It’s - eerily, terrifyingly deserted. The plush red carpeting that should lead through the halls is as red as he could have imagined, but dark in the dim evening light streaming in through the windows from the setting sun. It’s going to get dark in here fast and then there won’t be any seeing anything. He holds back a shiver and sticks close to his friends as they come to terms with the eeriness in their own ways.
Chuck’s eyes are hard, but his hands quaver, one of Becky’s finding his elbow and clutching tight.
“Dean, are we - is this a good idea, do you think?”
Dean twists to look at Chuck, following the mage’s concern. No, this probably isn’t a good idea at all. Should he be leading all of his companions into a place like this just for the sake of Castiel?
A small hand on his elbow jerks his attention back in the opposite direction and he turns, eyes falling on Tessa who isn’t even looking at him. Her gaze is focused solidly, steadfastly forward.
“Alright, I guess, yeah. Yeah, it is a good idea.”
The weight of the hand drops off of his arm and now Tessa’s peering at him, a wry smile turning up the corners of her lips. “I didn’t say that.”
He snorts and lets her lead them further into the keep.
They keep humorously together, bunched tight like a frightened flock of birds as they move further into the hall. It’s strangely, eerily deserted and Dean knows that can’t mean anything good. Off in the distance, far down the stone hallways, the sounds of clanking metal echoes back to them. Chains against wall, weapon against weapon, it’s impossible to tell with the sound so faint and so distant, but the small hairs on the back of Dean’s neck are raised.
“Do you think - ”
“Shhh.” Two or three sets of voices hush the speaker before Dean can really register that the words have slipped out of his own mouth, and he nods, letting the group continue on in silence.
The last three cell blocks on the south side of the hall hold exactly what they’re looking for. Inias, Gabriel and Balthazar, all shackled by heavy iron collars to thick rings bolted into the floor of their identical cells. They spend a few minutes flailing about in search of a key, but Becky proves to be the day’s saving grace, casting some sort of quick enchantment on the locks so that the doors simply pop open seemingly of their own accord.
The smile of achievement that Dean expects to see gracing her face isn’t there as she moves in to do the same for the collars, popping them off carefully.
Of the three, Inias is the most in command of his faculties. Once free, he’s immediately on his feet, helping Becky to free Balthazar and remove the heavy leather gag forced into his mouth. Balthazar too is strong enough to stand and it’s only Gabriel who requires real assistance to leave the cell.
The entire rescue operation takes only a few minutes, but it’s carried out in total silence and the silence makes the entire thing seem to drag on forever. With Gabriel leaning somewhat heavily on Dean’s shoulder, the hunter turns to Inias. “Castiel?”
“The guards mentioned something about holding prisoners in the East Wing,” the angel whispers, voice rough.
“Alright. East Wing. Let’s go.”
The East Wing, it turns out, is not reachable from this particular corridor, and the group is forced to climb back up the stairs that had brought them down into the dungeon to begin with, traveling back up through the main floors of the palace in order to reach its opposite side.
And still, no sign of the enemy.
It’s a cat-and-mouse game, can’t be anything different and Dean’s not at all surprised when the beating of wings from outside announces the arrival of someone - he can only hope it’s Rachel and Gabriel’s Pegasus, but given the heavy leather flapping of whatever beast is out there’s wings, he thinks not.
Fuck, it’s probably a dragon.
His companions look reasonably unsettled as well, but Gabriel’s head tilts, face turning to look back towards the main entranceway. “Wyverns.”
Right. Okay. So it is dragons. Just, the two-legged kind. Too bad, because it’s not the legs that Dean’s worried about.
Inias has his sword drawn, and the rest of the angels appear equally prepared for battle, but Gabriel holds out a hand to them, signalling they remain standing back.
He’s still leaning against Dean, but manages to straighten, standing tall as the pair of riders watch them without dismounting.
“How does it feel to be without your Grace, Gabriel?”
The archangel smiles and manages to shoot a spark of magic in the direction of the blonde rider. She leans out of its trajectory without much danger of being hit and laughs.
“I suppose he didn’t get all of it.”
“Guess not. I don’t think he was trying very hard.”
The woman laughs and Dean’s eyes remain fixed solidly on her dragon. Wyvern. Whatever. Her gaze flits down to focus on Dean and he tenses. “You look lost, little human.”
Gabriel twists to glance at him. “Dean, Lilith and Ruby.”
“Thanks for the introduction.” He remains tense, shoulders square as he watches them watch him, wondering how long it’s going to be before one of those dragons opens its mouth and fries them all.
“Oh, we’re not interested in fighting. We’re more interested in not having our own asses handed to us.” The dark-haired one, Ruby, Dean decides, seems to be just a little nervous about being out in the open. “The boss is gone and it’s time we got going as well.”
“What?”
Her attention focuses back on Gabriel, and she smiles. “You didn’t know? Didn’t sense it through some powerful family bond of yours?”
“Raphael and Lucifer are dead,” Lilith cuts her off, cutting to the point. “Your youngest little brother took care of that one for you. And if you’re not careful, you’re going to be next.”
Dean swallows and watches as they exchange a few more words with Gabriel, words that he misses. Because Castiel killing his brothers? There’s something that stinks of wrongness. Before he can really tune back in to the discussion, they’re gone and Gabriel’s tugging him towards the hallway.
“Come on, East Wing. Castiel.”
“Right.”
Only Castiel, it turns out, is not in the East Wing.
“Found someone!” Becky calls out from the end of the hallway where she’s busting open cell doors one by one. So far the block has been empty. “Dean - Dean, come here.”
Immediately, Dean is shouldering Inias and Chuck out of the way to get closer to Becky, Balthazar hot on his heels. Only it’s not Castiel crouched, shivering in the cell, collar holding him to the floor.
“Sam.” He’s not even really sure if he said it or not, the name leaving his lips as scarcely a breath as he hurries to move Becky out of the way, taking her place next to his brother. “It’s okay. Whatever’s happened, it’s over, I got you.”
“Dean?” His brother’s voice is quiet, soft and Dean gets the impression that he hasn’t used it in a long time. “Dean, it’s not safe, if - ”
“Dude, shut up. I got you, okay?” It takes little more than an instant for Becky to pop the lock on Sam’s collar and Dean’s getting him up on his feet, balanced heavily against his shoulder in much the same way as Gabriel had been. “We’re gonna get you home, okay? Chill out.”
His brother protests the entire time that Becky finishes checking the remaining cells. No prisoners, no bodies, nothing. Only Sam in the entire wing, but Dean’s too concerned with keeping his struggling brother upright as the manoeuvre the stairwell once more.
“Dean, you have to listen - ” Sam is saying, voice cracking horribly and Dean wishes they had a moment for him to stop and give his brother something to drink. But Sam’s got a point, stopping now could be a death sentence for all of them. Lucifer and Raphael might very well be dead if those two bitches on the dragons weren’t lying, but that doesn’t mean all their soldiers are. Every passing moment without seeing one adds to the growing eeriness of the castle.
“Look, Sam, it’s - ” They’ve reached the landing now and the level ground is just the give that Sam needs to push himself away from Dean, face contorting into a decidedly not Sam-like expression. And then his brother is standing on his own two feet, no sign of the fatigue that had plagued him at all.
And then he’s grabbing for the heavy war hammer hanging against the wall.
A heavy war hammer that’s coming straight for Dean’s head.
He reaches for Castiel’s rapier, pulling it out as swiftly as he can while jumping to the side to avoid the blow. But he remembers Balthazar’s words and the weapon feels suddenly flimsy in his hands, useless. It’s not going to protect him against his brother’s weapon.
Sam lunges to the right and Dean follows, ducking to the side as his brother’s sword comes crashing forward against him. He stumbles and dips down to his knees just in time to miss the swooping return blow that Sam attempts to deliver, reversing the direction of the blade in a sudden sweep that would have caught Dean in the head if he hadn’t hit the ground.
He rolls to the side and is back on his feet immediately, only to be knocked down once more by a well placed swipe of the heavy war hammer.
He pants where he’s sprawled on the ground, struggling to catch his breath as Sam moves in closer, for the kill. Before he can raise the hammer one last time to finish Dean off, Tessa’s there, tugging Dean backwards as Gabriel puts himself between him and Sam, using his spear to block the blow.
“Don’t - ” Dean’s eyes are wide, desperate as the archangel and his brother begin to circle one another. He has no doubt which have the two has the better training. Warped that Sam may be, he doesn’t stand a chance against the war-hardened Gabriel. “ - Don’t, he’s my brother.”
“Yeah, I got a couple of those, too,” Gabriel grunts as the shaft of the hammer collides heavily with his spear. He’s smaller and it gives him a bit of advantage, letting him dodge to the side, loosening the pressure of hammer against axe. “You wanna be the one to finish him off?”
Dean struggles to his feet then, throwing himself back between the two and slamming Gabriel out of the way with his elbow. The archangel moves back with a grunt and Dean grits his teeth, sword flashing out to meet his brother’s every blow. Sparks fly as the metal clashes on metal, they turn and dodge and leap around each other, more involved and frenzied than any play fighting they’ve ever done.
Sweat drips into Dean’s eyes and he shakes his head to regain his vision, starting to tire, steps faltering. “Sam, come on.”
His brother remains silent, stoic. He’s a shell of himself.
“Sam!” They come in close, weapons locking and Dean gets his first good look at his brother’s lifeless eyes, and down goes the sword, his shoulder driving hard into his brother’s chest, slamming him into the wall and dislodging the hammer from his hand. They’re both disarmed now and Dean’s not giving an inch.
He pushes until Sam goes down, tripped up by one of Dean’s feet tucked in behind his knee and this is familiar. This is what they’re used to. Bloodied knuckles and bruised fists, the familiar pelt of bone against skin, beating each other to a pulp with nothing but their own selves.
Dean gives it everything he’s got, fist slamming into Sam’s face, trying to beat some sense, some life back into his brother. It takes him a minute to realize Sam’s not even fighting back.
Or moving.
“Dean.” Tessa’s watching him with wide eyes, and Dean notices that the rest of the group is pointedly averting its gaze, Chuck focusing on the floor as Becky fiddles with her sleeves. There’s blood on his hands and blood on Sam’s face, and when the reaper moves in to gently manhandle him away from his brother, he registers that there’s blood on the back of Sam’s head, too, from where it collided violently with the wall on the way down.
He swallows and pushes at Tessa, but her grip is surprisingly strong and she manages to hold him fast.
“Dean, leave him.”
He opens his mouth to retort, to pull away, but the sound of footsteps has them all whirling around to the entranceway. It’s not just one pair of feet, but dozens and none of them ordered any back up.
The swords and spears and knives are all out once more, every pair of eyes trained on the entranceway as it explodes with demons and angels alike. Raphael’s garrison and part of Lucifer’s army, and there’s no question which side they’re both fighting for.
“Stick close,” Gabriel is shouting, backing towards the group, forcing them into a tighter, back-to-back unit and Dean has to admit that he feels a little bit safer knowing that the archangel has some idea of what to do here. He joins the formation, wedged between Tessa and Inias, trying desperately not to think about the prone form of his younger brother lying unconscious only a few feet away.
Oh god, please let him be unconscious.
The stick-close-and-fight-together tactic works for only a handful of minutes, before the army drives them apart by sheer numbers and Dean soon finds himself separated from his companions, facing off against one of the guards. He’s not as well trained as what Dean’s used to fighting, hours of sparring against Castiel paying off and he might even hazard to say that he’s better than the opponent.
Certainly would once he pulls Castiel’s blade out of his chest, stepping back as he explodes in a flash of light, leaving behind an imprint of wings on the stone wall behind him. An angel, then. It’s hard to tell what’s what in the commotion. Half of what they’re fighting are Lucifer’s demons, the rest, Raphael’s own garrison, brought over to this side of the war. As he steps back, a hand on his shoulder has him jerking around, but it’s only Gabriel.
Or - well - he thinks it’s only Gabriel? Because isn’t that Gabriel over there, battling three demons at once?
The archangel throws a finger over his lips and pulls Dean aside, away from the commotion, eyes on the battle even as they move away from it. “Dean, this is important.”
“Yeah, I - it’s gotta be if you’re gonna tell me right now.”
A smile quirks the corner of the angel’s lips and he nods. “I don’t have a lot of time on this one, but I need you to get everyone to fall back, there’s gonna be one hell of a blast zone in a second.”
Dean’s hands go up to Gabriel’s shoulders, no hard feat given that the angel stands a full head shorter than him. “What?”
“Short on time, remember?” He ducks out from under Dean’s hands and moves back towards where he’s already fighting off a group of angels. “Get ready to pull them back, then you’re just gonna have the demons to contend with - and I don’t think it’s unfair of me to say that those fuckers are easy.” He smiles, but Dean can see that there’s just a small trace of fear in his eyes, but somewhere off to the right, Inias lets out a soft groan of pain where he’s nicked by a blade and Dean bites the inside of his cheek.
“Do what you think you gotta do.”
Gabriel nods and starts to turn, gesturing to the stairwell a few feet behind Dean, away from the scuffle. “Stairs are that way. You’re gonna want to use ‘em.”
His gaze moves to the stairs as Gabriel heads forward, this version of him merging with the other and then there’s only one archangel, fighting off the growing contingent of angels. “Heads down, everyone!”
Dean remembers that before he can take Gabriel up on the cryptic hint, he’s got one more thing to do. “Chuck, Becky!” The pair are fighting somewhere off to his left, “Fall back, heads down.” Tessa and the angels have already moved back, attuned to taking orders and now Gabriel has the floor, completely surrounded.
Dean swallows hard.
“Come and get me, fuckers.”
When the archangel explodes in a brilliant, blinding burst of white light, he has a smile on his face.
* * *
The roughly hewn stone face of the castle steps digs into the thinning soles of Dean’s boots. They’ve traveled so far in the past few weeks, he can’t stand the thought of them giving out on him now. Which, in itself, is a funny thought. Because who worries about their shoes at a moment like this?
He stumbles on a loose bit of stone and comes down hard against the rough surface, fingers scrabbling against the rock as he forces himself back to his feet. His already bloodied knees don’t appreciate the added injury, but he pushes the pain down and focuses on his shoes again. Because really, strange thought though it might be, it’s better than thinking about what’s waiting for him at the top of the steps.
Or worse, what’s not waiting for him at the top.
From below, he can hear the continued sounds of fighting, sword on sword, the zap-fizzle of Chuck’s magic echoing up the stairwell. He might not be able to tell whose sword is whose, but if they’re still fighting than at least one of them belongs to someone he knows. And it’s nice to know that Chuck’s still up and going. Though in any other circumstance he would never admit that fact, even to himself.
The staircase makes a sudden twist to the right, more than the gentle curve that’s been leading him upwards this whole time. Dean pictures the outside of the castle, recalling the way that the turret of this particular tower leads into the main body of the castle about three-quarters of the way up.
He backtracks a couple of steps and there - the stairs do continue upwards in this tower, but off to the side, less noticeably. It’s this route that he takes, starting to feel the burn in his lungs as he speeds upwards.
Should he even bother running? Is it worth being out of breath when he gets to the top?
The sound of heavy footsteps on the first steps of the stairs below make up his mind for him. He doesn’t know if it’s one of his companions, or worse: not, either way it’s enough to renew his efforts in his climb. If it is one of his friends, he’d rather face this alone, do it himself.
It’s better if he’s the one who dies in the long run, right?
The footsteps get quieter, farther away as he climbs and he knows it’s because he’s going faster than whoever’s following him, until the steps become silent completely. Dean doesn’t take that as a sign that they’ve stopped or collapsed from injury, he just runs with it, racing up the steps until finally, finally they even out and he’s on level ground, staring down an iron door.
Oh. Fuck.
His thighs burn as he comes to a standstill, panting.
The tower’s suddenly eerily quiet, no sound of anything or anyone below him, and worse, no telling what exactly is behind that door. He has his suspicions: Lucifer, for one. But the quiet only makes everything that much worse and the blood pounding in his ears from the rapid climb is twice as loud as it should be.
He takes one wobbly step forward, catching himself with a hand against the stone wall. It’s startlingly cold against his skin, and a glance at his red, blood-flushed hands says way. He’s really in no place to fight anyone, but his hand goes to the hilt of Castiel’s sword, tucked into his belt, nonetheless. This isn’t a fight he’s going to come into empty-handed.
Sweat trickling down from his forehead, he presses his palm flush against the door and it opens with no resistance at all, as though it had never even been closed properly let alone locked.
“Hello, Dean.”
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