Fic: Outrun My Gun 3/7 (Supernatural; Dean/Castiel, NC-17)
Fic Title: Outrun My Gun ( Art Masterpost)
Author: misachan
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Drama, Romance, AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 2973
Warnings: Violence, language, character death
Summary: "The two of you are so stubborn you've made Heaven blink." Finally convinced that Sam and Dean will never say yes and accept their destinies, Heaven and Hell come up with a new plan, one that will redraw the Apocalypse and make everything run much more smoothly. All they need is Dean Winchester's soul.
"I'm not sure how much help I can be with this, Dean."
Dean paced up and down, wondering what it said about him that even dead he was still more comfortable in motel rooms than almost anywhere else, the more squalid and garish the better. "Any help is better than none, Cas. I'm gonna be back in my body again at some point but until then I need to get a handle on this ghost stuff. I was practically useless against that wendigo, I don't ever want to feel like that again."
Castiel nodded; he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers steepled in front of his face. "All right. Where do you think we should start?"
"Beats the hell out of me. I was hoping you'd have some ideas."
Castiel tilted his head to the side, considering the question. "You've had some success with affecting lights in the past, when your emotions ran high. Try to do it consciously now."
Dean nodded and stared at the motel overhead light, focusing on...well, Dean wasn't sure what he was supposed to be focusing on, other than making the light flicker. And in any case, it wasn't working. "Maybe I just suck at this."
"Perhaps it's tied to your emotional state. Spirits are volatile, as a rule." He gestured at the light. "Try to recall how you felt that night when you made the highway lights flicker."
"I don't know, Cas, that's...."
"I'm not saying give in to that emotion, Dean, just try to use it. I'll pull you back if you get lost in it."
Dean swallowed hard. "Okay, here goes." He remembered the frustration from that night, the deep wells of anger spiraling into rage. He managed to touch just the edge of that rage and the lights flickered, slowly at first and then more rapidly until the whole thing exploded into shards of cheap frosted glass. "Hey!" Dean said, overcome for a second by how awesome that had been. "Did you see that?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, brushing glass out of his hair. "Although it looks like we need to work on your fine control." He gestured toward the door. "Try to affect that, now."
Dean focused again, trying to touch that wall of rage again. He managed to make the door rattle in its frame but let up when he felt the whole thing start to give way. "That's not working."
Castiel frowned for a moment, then walked over to the door, examining it as if it had personally offended him. He opened the door, leaving it open half way. "Try to shut it."
It only took a moment's concentration to slam the door closed. "Awesome."
"You were trying to swing it open and work the knob at the same time. You'll need more practice before you're capable of that kind of fine motor control."
"How long do you think it'll be before I can toss things around? That's the first thing I think of when I hear evil spirit."
"You're not an evil spirit, Dean," Castiel reminded him. "And you did managed to throw the torch when we were facing the wendigo." He stationed himself in front of the motel door. "Try to affect me."
"I don't...I don't know, Cas...."
"Unless you're coming at me with my sword you can't actually harm me, Dean. Affecting something living is harder than doing the same to an object." He braced himself. "Now try."
Dean nodded and focused again. He managed to make Castiel's coat billow back but couldn't make him move; he touched more of that rage and saw Castiel' eyes go tight but he didn't even take a step back. "Think you're too strong for this, Cas."
"My strength has nothing to do with it," Castiel answered. "Focus on moving me."
"Yeah, yeah, Yoda, not like I'm not trying, here." He thought about angels, and just how much bullshit they'd decided to put his family through. Instead of Castiel he pretended that was Zachariah standing and concentrated on that bug-eyed face from the road. The rage bubbled over like a pot left on the stove and Dean felt power rush through him. He looked at Castiel and before he could blink the angel flew backward into the door hard enough to leave a dent. The rage evaporated and Dean rushed over. "Shit. Cas, you okay?"
Castiel blinked up at him bleary-eyed for a second, then rubbed the back of his head. "Yes. A little startled."
Dean sat down on the floor next to him. "Guess you have a point about the fine control thing." He leaned his head back against the door. "I miss beer."
Castiel's lips quirked up. "I can never guess what you're going to say."
"How long until you're able to put me back?"
Castiel sighed, which wasn't reassuring at all. "I don't know, Dean. It's all I can do to keep us safe, I haven't had any time to plan."
Dean studied him for a long moment. "What's after us, Cas? What do we keep running from?"
Castiel shook his head. "If I mention names we'll only be found faster." He closed his eyes and Dean could see very un-angelic exhaustion lining his face. "We should go."
"This whatever-it-is catches up with us, what's the plan? What do I do?"
Castiel was quiet. "You run, Dean." Dean didn't have time to say anything else before Castiel touched his shoulder and Dean heard the sound of wings.
***
Five minutes after they watched Sam walk into a diner Castiel staggered, bracing himself against Dean's shoulder. "Whoa!" Dean said, alarmed that he had to hold Castiel up. "What's wrong with you?"
Castiel winced in obvious pain, one hand against his forehead; when whatever spell it was passed Castiel stared at the run-down restaurant. "I didn't realize it would happen so soon."
"What? What's happening?" Dean turned Castiel around too quickly for the angel to bury the horror in his eyes. "What the hell's going on, Cas?"
Castiel glanced back at the diner, then up at Dean, his tongue flicking over his lips in a nervous gesture that sent a chill through Dean. Whatever was happening, Castiel did not want to say it. "Azazel - the demon you call ‘Yellow Eyes’ - has called his children home."
Dean let him go and backed up a step. "You better explain that."
Castiel looked like he'd rather do anything but. "Sam wasn't the only child Azazel infected.....”
“Infected?”
Castiel scowled. “I’d thought you learned all this by now.” He shook his head, seeming to realize he’d said too much to go back. “What do you know of the night of your mother’s death?”
“I....” It had been well over two decades and Dean could still feel the heat from those flames. “Yellow Eyes pinned her to the ceiling and set her on fire.”
“Do you know why?” Dean shook his head. “It was because she interrupted him.”
“What the hell did that bastard do to my brother, Cas?”
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment. “He fed Sam drops of his blood.”
“Drops of his...and that’s why Sam can do the psychic crap? That’s all it took?”
“Sam’s capable of much more. And as I said before, Sam wasn’t only child he tainted. There were many. Those who have survived to adulthood have been gathered together to a proving ground. A place called Cold Oak."
"Okay.” Dean would deal with all that later, the most important thing now was to get Sam safe and out of there. “Okay, let's go get him."
"We can't. Everything from here proceeds in a straight line. This is what leads to the Devil's Gate opening and John Winchester escaping the Pit. This must happen, Dean."
"You mentioned that Devil's Gate before and I didn't ask about it. What is that? What does that mean?"
Castiel looked away, his lips pressed to a thin line. "It's a gate to Hell. It's located in the center of a massive devil's trap constructed by Samuel Colt."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And you want this thing to open?"
"I don't..." He bit off his words, his jaw going tight. "What I want has nothing to do with it. It happens. It has happened. Time can't be played with that way."
"Your jerkass brothers seem don't seem to feel the same way."
"I assure you, Dean, they intend for the Gate to open. It's why they gave Sam the Colt in the first place," he said, the words clearly slipping out before Castiel could stop them.
"You're saying Sam's going to open this thing?"
Dean saw something flicker deep in Castiel's eyes and knew the angel was hiding something. "It's a possibility. The Colt acts as the key."
"So what happens when that thing opens?"
"Your father escapes the Pit and kills Azazel."
"Besides that," Dean growled out through his teeth. "I'm betting a whole lot of demons get out, too."
Castiel nodded, seemingly almost despite himself. "Many."
"How many?'
"Hundreds," he said, and Dean could almost see his skin crawling at the thought. "The Seven. Lilith. Too many to name."
"And you're good with that happening? Angels don't care if demons just start wrecking the world?"
"Of course I'm not." He sounded like he was in physical pain. "I've been fighting against demons for my entire existence. Don't act as if this is easy for me."
"Doing nothing is always easy, Cas."
Castiel stepped to within an inch in front of him, the beginnings of wrath in his eyes. "If your father escapes then there will be no one to break the first Seal. The Apocalypse will never start. This is what we've been waiting for."
"How is that not fucking with time and going to stop this is?"
"Because I didn't set this course of events in motion. I can't take a more active role than I already have."
"Just admit you're scared and get it over with."
Castiel let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I know how far I can go, Dean. You said you would trust me."
It hadn't escaped Dean that Castiel still wasn't quite able to look him in the eye. "Yeah? You want me to trust you, Cas?" Castiel didn't take a step back but Dean got the feeling he wanted to. "Then you tell me what it is you're hiding right now."
Castiel actually looked away. "There's no guarantee things will happen the same way."
"What things? What am I missing?"
Castiel did look at Dean then, a clear why are you making me do this? expression in his eyes. "In the history I know Sam isn't the one who opens the Devil's Gate."
Dean blinked. "Well, that's...that's good, isn't it?"
"No, Dean." He closed his eyes. "Sam dies at Cold Oak. That's why another opens the Gate. Sam dies and you make a very foolish choice."
Dean didn't hear anything beyond Sam dies. "No. No, that's not going to happen."
"It's history."
"Your history, not mine. Look, you don't have to come with me, but I'm gonna go help Sam...."
"You can't, Dean."
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Say that again, Cas. You said I was connected to Sam."
"You are. Cold Oak is sealed and warded. I would have trouble getting in."
"Then take me there. Zap out again for all I care, but just get me to Sam."
"No."
The streetlights were starting to flicker. "Screw time, screw history and screw what's supposed to happen. Goddammit, Cas, this is simple. There's a right and a wrong here and you know it." Castiel's eyes went very wide. "Help me, Cas. Please."
"Why must you always do this?" Castiel whispered.
"Just get me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late."
Castiel turned away, raking one hand through his hair. Before Dean could keep arguing Castiel spoke again, his voice as dry as a grave. "I'll take you to Cold Oak."
Dean felt elation flood through him. "It'll work out, Cas."
"Don't make empty promises." Castiel walked back to Dean, looking like a man about to go to the gallows. "Are you sure about this?"
"I've never been surer about anything."
Castiel nodded. "Then brace yourself. This will be a difficult---"
"Castiel."
The voice was a deep, rich baritone; Dean saw Castiel tense, his eyes filling with horror. "Dean, run."
"Why? What's going on?"
Castiel jerked around, an invisible hand pulling him back and Dean heard him grunt like he was in pain. Now that his field of vision was clear Dean saw a stranger standing perhaps twenty feet away, a black guy with close cropped hair and wearing a suit. "I told you I would find you, Castiel." When he smiled electricity arced down from the streetlights, looking almost like curved wings. "You did a commendable job covering your tracks. I congratulate you."
Before Dean could ask who this joker was Dean spotted a silver sword in his hand. "Oh, shit."
A bead of sweat ran down Castiel's face. "I said you would have to run, Dean. Go."
"What's wrong with you? Why can't you get us both out of here?"
"He has me tethered," Castiel snapped. Dean noticed his fist was clenched so tight blood dripped down to the pavement. "Go. Please."
"Fuck that, Cas, I'm not leaving you here."
"Astonishing," the man said. "How did you manage to make him loyal to you so quickly? You have a gift, Castiel." He walked toward them, Castiel flinching like every step hurt. "Did you know he stole you, Dean? You would be in Heaven now were it not for his interfering."
"Yeah, that's a pretty sweet offer but I think I'll pass."
The man - angel, Dean corrected himself - smiled again. "Do you know who I am, Dean?"
"Just one more idiot hung up on causing the Apocalypse."
"My name is Raphael and yes, I'm eager to see this Godless world meet its end. But I admit, I will take some joy in this."
"Dean," Castiel urged, his voice tight and Dean didn't know what he was supposed to do. Running just wasn't an option.
"Do you know why he's so eager for you to leave?" Raphael asked. "He doesn't want you to see this." He lifted one hand, like he was about to snap his fingers.
Castiel took one ragged breath. "Fight me," he said, the words coming out in a snarl.
Raphael tilted his head, like he was amused by that. "Why not?" He gestured and Castiel stumbled forward, free of whatever had been holding him. Raphael then glanced at Dean and Dean felt a band of force wrap around him, not painful but definitely binding. "I want you to bear witness to this, Dean. I want you to watch and then spread the tale when I bring you to Heaven."
Dean had never wanted to spit in someone's face more in his life. "Kick his ass, Cas."
A storm was rolling in; Dean watched the two angels circle each other in the fading light. Castiel struck first, a quick, probing jab; Raphael blocked it easily but Dean still saw a flash of satisfaction in Castiel's eyes. He did the same thing and again Raphael blocked it; Dean realized that Castiel was trying to draw the other angel out, figure out which way he led. There was a quick exchange too fast for Dean to catch, then Raphael landed a lucky strike on Castiel's arm. The hit was glancing but Castiel hissed back in pain and Dean saw light flash from the wound.
Castiel recovered his balance quickly, pivoting toward Raphael with another blocked shot. He didn't block the next one, though; Castiel came in with an underhand strike that slipped past Raphael's guard. Castiel buried his sword up the the hilt in Raphael's gut and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the fight was over.
That lasted right up until Raphael smiled. "You cannot kill me, Castiel. Only an archangel's sword can kill an archangel."
Castiel sneered. "You talk too much." He ripped the sword back in a way that spun Raphael around and Dean knew that stab hadn't been a kill shot, it had been to set this up. Castiel went in for one final strike, one meant to disarm.
He almost got it. Dean could see that if Castiel had been just an inch taller, had gone in with just a little bit more leverage the disarm attempt would have worked. Instead Raphael blocked the strike at the last possible moment, sending Castiel's sword flying. He wrenched Castiel's arm behind his back and Dean felt Castiel's eyes lock with his for one moment. He wanted to tell Castiel not to look at him like that, he had nothing to apologize to Dean for.
Dean never got why people talked about things happening in slow motion - in his experience everything happened too damn fast. Dean saw Castiel gasp when Raphael drove the sword into the side of his chest, his eyes wide with pain. Bright light flashed through his entire body; he tried to brace himself against the archangel's shoulder as his legs buckled and Raphael held him up by his hair, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. He slowly twisted the blade in the wound and Castiel let out a desperate, choked off groan that made Dean's hands clench into fists. The light flashed again, brighter this time, Castiel's eyes going blank from shock. "Who is the little bitch now, Castiel?" Raphael growled into his ear, giving the blade one final twist.
The sword made a wet, sucking sound when Raphael pulled it out. He took a step back and Castiel dropped like a stone.
On to Part 4
Return to Masterpost
Back to Part 2
Author: misachan
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Drama, Romance, AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 2973
Warnings: Violence, language, character death
Summary: "The two of you are so stubborn you've made Heaven blink." Finally convinced that Sam and Dean will never say yes and accept their destinies, Heaven and Hell come up with a new plan, one that will redraw the Apocalypse and make everything run much more smoothly. All they need is Dean Winchester's soul.
"I'm not sure how much help I can be with this, Dean."
Dean paced up and down, wondering what it said about him that even dead he was still more comfortable in motel rooms than almost anywhere else, the more squalid and garish the better. "Any help is better than none, Cas. I'm gonna be back in my body again at some point but until then I need to get a handle on this ghost stuff. I was practically useless against that wendigo, I don't ever want to feel like that again."
Castiel nodded; he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers steepled in front of his face. "All right. Where do you think we should start?"
"Beats the hell out of me. I was hoping you'd have some ideas."
Castiel tilted his head to the side, considering the question. "You've had some success with affecting lights in the past, when your emotions ran high. Try to do it consciously now."
Dean nodded and stared at the motel overhead light, focusing on...well, Dean wasn't sure what he was supposed to be focusing on, other than making the light flicker. And in any case, it wasn't working. "Maybe I just suck at this."
"Perhaps it's tied to your emotional state. Spirits are volatile, as a rule." He gestured at the light. "Try to recall how you felt that night when you made the highway lights flicker."
"I don't know, Cas, that's...."
"I'm not saying give in to that emotion, Dean, just try to use it. I'll pull you back if you get lost in it."
Dean swallowed hard. "Okay, here goes." He remembered the frustration from that night, the deep wells of anger spiraling into rage. He managed to touch just the edge of that rage and the lights flickered, slowly at first and then more rapidly until the whole thing exploded into shards of cheap frosted glass. "Hey!" Dean said, overcome for a second by how awesome that had been. "Did you see that?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, brushing glass out of his hair. "Although it looks like we need to work on your fine control." He gestured toward the door. "Try to affect that, now."
Dean focused again, trying to touch that wall of rage again. He managed to make the door rattle in its frame but let up when he felt the whole thing start to give way. "That's not working."
Castiel frowned for a moment, then walked over to the door, examining it as if it had personally offended him. He opened the door, leaving it open half way. "Try to shut it."
It only took a moment's concentration to slam the door closed. "Awesome."
"You were trying to swing it open and work the knob at the same time. You'll need more practice before you're capable of that kind of fine motor control."
"How long do you think it'll be before I can toss things around? That's the first thing I think of when I hear evil spirit."
"You're not an evil spirit, Dean," Castiel reminded him. "And you did managed to throw the torch when we were facing the wendigo." He stationed himself in front of the motel door. "Try to affect me."
"I don't...I don't know, Cas...."
"Unless you're coming at me with my sword you can't actually harm me, Dean. Affecting something living is harder than doing the same to an object." He braced himself. "Now try."
Dean nodded and focused again. He managed to make Castiel's coat billow back but couldn't make him move; he touched more of that rage and saw Castiel' eyes go tight but he didn't even take a step back. "Think you're too strong for this, Cas."
"My strength has nothing to do with it," Castiel answered. "Focus on moving me."
"Yeah, yeah, Yoda, not like I'm not trying, here." He thought about angels, and just how much bullshit they'd decided to put his family through. Instead of Castiel he pretended that was Zachariah standing and concentrated on that bug-eyed face from the road. The rage bubbled over like a pot left on the stove and Dean felt power rush through him. He looked at Castiel and before he could blink the angel flew backward into the door hard enough to leave a dent. The rage evaporated and Dean rushed over. "Shit. Cas, you okay?"
Castiel blinked up at him bleary-eyed for a second, then rubbed the back of his head. "Yes. A little startled."
Dean sat down on the floor next to him. "Guess you have a point about the fine control thing." He leaned his head back against the door. "I miss beer."
Castiel's lips quirked up. "I can never guess what you're going to say."
"How long until you're able to put me back?"
Castiel sighed, which wasn't reassuring at all. "I don't know, Dean. It's all I can do to keep us safe, I haven't had any time to plan."
Dean studied him for a long moment. "What's after us, Cas? What do we keep running from?"
Castiel shook his head. "If I mention names we'll only be found faster." He closed his eyes and Dean could see very un-angelic exhaustion lining his face. "We should go."
"This whatever-it-is catches up with us, what's the plan? What do I do?"
Castiel was quiet. "You run, Dean." Dean didn't have time to say anything else before Castiel touched his shoulder and Dean heard the sound of wings.
***
Five minutes after they watched Sam walk into a diner Castiel staggered, bracing himself against Dean's shoulder. "Whoa!" Dean said, alarmed that he had to hold Castiel up. "What's wrong with you?"
Castiel winced in obvious pain, one hand against his forehead; when whatever spell it was passed Castiel stared at the run-down restaurant. "I didn't realize it would happen so soon."
"What? What's happening?" Dean turned Castiel around too quickly for the angel to bury the horror in his eyes. "What the hell's going on, Cas?"
Castiel glanced back at the diner, then up at Dean, his tongue flicking over his lips in a nervous gesture that sent a chill through Dean. Whatever was happening, Castiel did not want to say it. "Azazel - the demon you call ‘Yellow Eyes’ - has called his children home."
Dean let him go and backed up a step. "You better explain that."
Castiel looked like he'd rather do anything but. "Sam wasn't the only child Azazel infected.....”
“Infected?”
Castiel scowled. “I’d thought you learned all this by now.” He shook his head, seeming to realize he’d said too much to go back. “What do you know of the night of your mother’s death?”
“I....” It had been well over two decades and Dean could still feel the heat from those flames. “Yellow Eyes pinned her to the ceiling and set her on fire.”
“Do you know why?” Dean shook his head. “It was because she interrupted him.”
“What the hell did that bastard do to my brother, Cas?”
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment. “He fed Sam drops of his blood.”
“Drops of his...and that’s why Sam can do the psychic crap? That’s all it took?”
“Sam’s capable of much more. And as I said before, Sam wasn’t only child he tainted. There were many. Those who have survived to adulthood have been gathered together to a proving ground. A place called Cold Oak."
"Okay.” Dean would deal with all that later, the most important thing now was to get Sam safe and out of there. “Okay, let's go get him."
"We can't. Everything from here proceeds in a straight line. This is what leads to the Devil's Gate opening and John Winchester escaping the Pit. This must happen, Dean."
"You mentioned that Devil's Gate before and I didn't ask about it. What is that? What does that mean?"
Castiel looked away, his lips pressed to a thin line. "It's a gate to Hell. It's located in the center of a massive devil's trap constructed by Samuel Colt."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And you want this thing to open?"
"I don't..." He bit off his words, his jaw going tight. "What I want has nothing to do with it. It happens. It has happened. Time can't be played with that way."
"Your jerkass brothers seem don't seem to feel the same way."
"I assure you, Dean, they intend for the Gate to open. It's why they gave Sam the Colt in the first place," he said, the words clearly slipping out before Castiel could stop them.
"You're saying Sam's going to open this thing?"
Dean saw something flicker deep in Castiel's eyes and knew the angel was hiding something. "It's a possibility. The Colt acts as the key."
"So what happens when that thing opens?"
"Your father escapes the Pit and kills Azazel."
"Besides that," Dean growled out through his teeth. "I'm betting a whole lot of demons get out, too."
Castiel nodded, seemingly almost despite himself. "Many."
"How many?'
"Hundreds," he said, and Dean could almost see his skin crawling at the thought. "The Seven. Lilith. Too many to name."
"And you're good with that happening? Angels don't care if demons just start wrecking the world?"
"Of course I'm not." He sounded like he was in physical pain. "I've been fighting against demons for my entire existence. Don't act as if this is easy for me."
"Doing nothing is always easy, Cas."
Castiel stepped to within an inch in front of him, the beginnings of wrath in his eyes. "If your father escapes then there will be no one to break the first Seal. The Apocalypse will never start. This is what we've been waiting for."
"How is that not fucking with time and going to stop this is?"
"Because I didn't set this course of events in motion. I can't take a more active role than I already have."
"Just admit you're scared and get it over with."
Castiel let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I know how far I can go, Dean. You said you would trust me."
It hadn't escaped Dean that Castiel still wasn't quite able to look him in the eye. "Yeah? You want me to trust you, Cas?" Castiel didn't take a step back but Dean got the feeling he wanted to. "Then you tell me what it is you're hiding right now."
Castiel actually looked away. "There's no guarantee things will happen the same way."
"What things? What am I missing?"
Castiel did look at Dean then, a clear why are you making me do this? expression in his eyes. "In the history I know Sam isn't the one who opens the Devil's Gate."
Dean blinked. "Well, that's...that's good, isn't it?"
"No, Dean." He closed his eyes. "Sam dies at Cold Oak. That's why another opens the Gate. Sam dies and you make a very foolish choice."
Dean didn't hear anything beyond Sam dies. "No. No, that's not going to happen."
"It's history."
"Your history, not mine. Look, you don't have to come with me, but I'm gonna go help Sam...."
"You can't, Dean."
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Say that again, Cas. You said I was connected to Sam."
"You are. Cold Oak is sealed and warded. I would have trouble getting in."
"Then take me there. Zap out again for all I care, but just get me to Sam."
"No."
The streetlights were starting to flicker. "Screw time, screw history and screw what's supposed to happen. Goddammit, Cas, this is simple. There's a right and a wrong here and you know it." Castiel's eyes went very wide. "Help me, Cas. Please."
"Why must you always do this?" Castiel whispered.
"Just get me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late."
Castiel turned away, raking one hand through his hair. Before Dean could keep arguing Castiel spoke again, his voice as dry as a grave. "I'll take you to Cold Oak."
Dean felt elation flood through him. "It'll work out, Cas."
"Don't make empty promises." Castiel walked back to Dean, looking like a man about to go to the gallows. "Are you sure about this?"
"I've never been surer about anything."
Castiel nodded. "Then brace yourself. This will be a difficult---"
"Castiel."
The voice was a deep, rich baritone; Dean saw Castiel tense, his eyes filling with horror. "Dean, run."
"Why? What's going on?"
Castiel jerked around, an invisible hand pulling him back and Dean heard him grunt like he was in pain. Now that his field of vision was clear Dean saw a stranger standing perhaps twenty feet away, a black guy with close cropped hair and wearing a suit. "I told you I would find you, Castiel." When he smiled electricity arced down from the streetlights, looking almost like curved wings. "You did a commendable job covering your tracks. I congratulate you."
Before Dean could ask who this joker was Dean spotted a silver sword in his hand. "Oh, shit."
A bead of sweat ran down Castiel's face. "I said you would have to run, Dean. Go."
"What's wrong with you? Why can't you get us both out of here?"
"He has me tethered," Castiel snapped. Dean noticed his fist was clenched so tight blood dripped down to the pavement. "Go. Please."
"Fuck that, Cas, I'm not leaving you here."
"Astonishing," the man said. "How did you manage to make him loyal to you so quickly? You have a gift, Castiel." He walked toward them, Castiel flinching like every step hurt. "Did you know he stole you, Dean? You would be in Heaven now were it not for his interfering."
"Yeah, that's a pretty sweet offer but I think I'll pass."
The man - angel, Dean corrected himself - smiled again. "Do you know who I am, Dean?"
"Just one more idiot hung up on causing the Apocalypse."
"My name is Raphael and yes, I'm eager to see this Godless world meet its end. But I admit, I will take some joy in this."
"Dean," Castiel urged, his voice tight and Dean didn't know what he was supposed to do. Running just wasn't an option.
"Do you know why he's so eager for you to leave?" Raphael asked. "He doesn't want you to see this." He lifted one hand, like he was about to snap his fingers.
Castiel took one ragged breath. "Fight me," he said, the words coming out in a snarl.
Raphael tilted his head, like he was amused by that. "Why not?" He gestured and Castiel stumbled forward, free of whatever had been holding him. Raphael then glanced at Dean and Dean felt a band of force wrap around him, not painful but definitely binding. "I want you to bear witness to this, Dean. I want you to watch and then spread the tale when I bring you to Heaven."
Dean had never wanted to spit in someone's face more in his life. "Kick his ass, Cas."
A storm was rolling in; Dean watched the two angels circle each other in the fading light. Castiel struck first, a quick, probing jab; Raphael blocked it easily but Dean still saw a flash of satisfaction in Castiel's eyes. He did the same thing and again Raphael blocked it; Dean realized that Castiel was trying to draw the other angel out, figure out which way he led. There was a quick exchange too fast for Dean to catch, then Raphael landed a lucky strike on Castiel's arm. The hit was glancing but Castiel hissed back in pain and Dean saw light flash from the wound.
Castiel recovered his balance quickly, pivoting toward Raphael with another blocked shot. He didn't block the next one, though; Castiel came in with an underhand strike that slipped past Raphael's guard. Castiel buried his sword up the the hilt in Raphael's gut and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the fight was over.
That lasted right up until Raphael smiled. "You cannot kill me, Castiel. Only an archangel's sword can kill an archangel."
Castiel sneered. "You talk too much." He ripped the sword back in a way that spun Raphael around and Dean knew that stab hadn't been a kill shot, it had been to set this up. Castiel went in for one final strike, one meant to disarm.
He almost got it. Dean could see that if Castiel had been just an inch taller, had gone in with just a little bit more leverage the disarm attempt would have worked. Instead Raphael blocked the strike at the last possible moment, sending Castiel's sword flying. He wrenched Castiel's arm behind his back and Dean felt Castiel's eyes lock with his for one moment. He wanted to tell Castiel not to look at him like that, he had nothing to apologize to Dean for.
Dean never got why people talked about things happening in slow motion - in his experience everything happened too damn fast. Dean saw Castiel gasp when Raphael drove the sword into the side of his chest, his eyes wide with pain. Bright light flashed through his entire body; he tried to brace himself against the archangel's shoulder as his legs buckled and Raphael held him up by his hair, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. He slowly twisted the blade in the wound and Castiel let out a desperate, choked off groan that made Dean's hands clench into fists. The light flashed again, brighter this time, Castiel's eyes going blank from shock. "Who is the little bitch now, Castiel?" Raphael growled into his ear, giving the blade one final twist.
The sword made a wet, sucking sound when Raphael pulled it out. He took a step back and Castiel dropped like a stone.
On to Part 4
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