Fic: The Shattered One (17/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
“You boys sure took your sweet-ass time,” Bobby said by way of brusque greeting the next day when the mismatched traveling group finally turned up at the salvage yard.
“Sorry about that,” Sam said as he moved past Bobby into the hallway and put their bags on the floor. “We had a scare with Daniel yesterday.”
Bobby turned his eyes toward Dean, who was walking into the house carrying the baby. The grizzled hunter looked shrewdly at the infant in Dean’s arms, sizing him up (all eight or nine pounds of him). “‘Daniel’, huh?”
Castiel was at the threshold, but he stopped shy of going inside the house. He looked over his shoulder at the gate they’d passed through, then turned to Dean. “I’m going to check the wards.”
“Sounds good,” Dean replied.
In the next second, the angel vanished.
It cleared a line of sight for Bobby to get a look at the Impala parked in front of his house. “Hell, Dean… what happened to your car?”
Dean winced, like the state of his baby was physically painful to him.
It was Sam who answered. “Yeah, uh… turns out angel giving birth is kind of like a bomb going off.”
Bobby grunted noncommittally. He rolled his chair backward, angling for the library. “Well, I’ve got everything I’ve found on pick-pocketing an archangel laid out; come have a look.”
“Can it wait maybe twenty minutes?” Dean asked. At Bobby’s questioning look, Dean explained, “Daniel’s starting to act like he’s hungry.” As if to prove Dean right, the baby chose that moment to whimper and kick.
“I’m on it,” Sam said, stooping down and fishing one of the bags off the floor. He made for the kitchen with it. Dean gave Bobby a contrite look and went after Sam. Bobby glowered after them both a few minutes before he pushed himself into the kitchen after them.
Sam was preparing a bottle with what already looked like practiced ease. Dean had taken a seat at the kitchen table and was repositioning the baby on his lap. Bobby just sat there watching the whole production, holding his tongue but judging mightily.
“Here you go.” Sam handed the ready bottle to Dean.
“Thanks, man.” Dean offered Daniel the bottle, and the kid didn’t need to be asked twice. He was drinking like a camel in two seconds flat. That was when Dean finally took his eyes off the kid and noticed Bobby’s ‘I judge you hard’ stare.
Dean scowled. “Okay, what?”
Bobby pursed his lips. “Look… I think it’s good of you two to look after Castiel’s angel baby and all, but… well, don’t you think now’s really not the time for it?”
Dean blinked. “What the… what the hell are we supposed to do?”
“I’m just saying we have bigger problems right now… a baby really doesn’t need to be added to them. There must be something else you can do with it.”
Dean’s expression darkened. “Jesus, Bobby… what kind of deadbeat do you think I am?”
“What’s that got to do with the fact that Castiel shouldn’t be making you two responsible for his kid?”
Dean’s expression shifted and he looked over at Sam. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Uh… no?” Sam shrugged sheepishly.
“Didn’t tell me what?” Bobby asked warily.
“Daniel’s my son,” Dean answered. After a beat, he continued, “He’s mine and Cas’s.”
Bobby’s eyes went wide, the older hunter suddenly indignant and building up to a good lecture.
“Oh, come on,” Dean snapped to forestall it. “Don’t even start, Bobby. It’s not like me and Cas got it on in the backseat and I forgot to wear a condom and knocked him up. It was nothing like that. Hello, angel.”
“Okay… then why don’t you tell me how exactly you ended up having a baby with an angel?”
As a slightly-less-agitated party in the room, Sam stepped forward to do the honors. “Turns out all that stuff we thought was Cas falling was actually this… well, it wasn’t a baby then. He described it like a fractured part of his grace. Apparently that’s how angels reproduce. Their grace breaks and a piece of it starts to grow on its own. But at a certain point, another angel has to offer part of its grace to actually make a new angel. I guess they don’t want angel-clones running around in Heaven or something…”
“But since Cas is fallen,” Dean said, “none of his dick brothers or sisters would help him.”
“And as it turns out, without another angel’s grace to finish the cycle, Cas would have died trying to give birth.” Sam blanched. “And he almost did.
“When no other angel would step up and help, we thought maybe a piece of human soul would work as a substitute for grace.”
Incredulous, Bobby looked over at Dean. “You gave up part of your soul?”
“Cas would have died if I didn’t,” Dean countered darkly. He paused a beat, then he glanced down at the baby. “And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Daniel.”
The gauntlet was thrown with that small statement, and they all knew it.
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was Daniel suckling on his bottle with a hearty appetite very much reminiscent of Dean Winchester.
Finally, Bobby broke the stalemate. “So… he’s yours, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Balls. Well then, let me take a look at him.” Bobby wheeled over to Dean and leaned forward to peer down at Daniel. The baby’s bright blue eyes moved toward the bearded face that crowded into his range of focus. His gaze held the hunter’s with burning intensity and his brow furrowed in concentration… though he never stopped guzzling his milk.
Bobby grunted. “Kid’s got the angel’s eyes.”
“Has his wings, too,” Dean said, and it was pretty damn obvious from his tone that he was proud about that.
Bobby shook his head. “Hell, the crap you boys get into…”
“To be fair,” Sam chimed in, “a nephew’s way better than the end results we usually get from our snafus.”
“Wait until he’s sixteen and see if you still think that,” Bobby joked, then he looked earnestly at Dean. “Listen, Dean… I’m sorry I told you that you should have ditched him. I didn’t know he was yours. I just thought that angel was taking advantage of you boys.”
“How could he even do that?” Sam asked while making a sour face.
“Please… would he have needed to do anything more than drop a baby on your doorstep to get you two to take care of it?”
Sam grumbled to himself.
True or not, Dean snorted. “You make us sound like girls, man. Ooo, look, Sammy, a baby! Can we keep it? Pleeeeease?”
Sam chuckled.
One side of Bobby’s mouth twitched upward. “Well, I have to admit I’ve been thinking some pretty ugly things about that angel and this baby business… so I guess I owe him an apology, too.” Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched Dean feed the baby. “But you don’t have to worry about me ever talking about you getting rid of Daniel again.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean’s eyebrows lifted. “Just like that?”
“Damn right. I know better. You don’t abandon your family… you’re too damn good a dad for that.” Then Bobby’s eyes cut meaningfully over to Sam. Sam smirked in agreement. Dean ducked his head to hide a possible blush, though he covered it well by acting like he was just checking on Daniel.
“And angel in him or not, the boy’s family,” Bobby said resolutely.
Dean cleared his throat and jostled Daniel gently. “What did I tell you, huh? Grandpa’s all hard on the outside, goo on the inside.”
Bobby rolled his eyes.
The sound of sheets snapping in the wind filled the kitchen, and suddenly Castiel was among them. He’d appeared next to Dean’s chair. His eyes went immediately to Daniel.
“We all good out there?” Dean asked as he pulled the empty bottle out of Daniel’s mouth.
“Yes… the sigils I put in place the last time we were here had not been tampered with.” He watched Dean shift the baby in his lap, propping him into a sitting position with a hand supporting his stomach and chest while his other hand began to pat the baby’s back.
After a beat, Castiel held out his hands for Daniel. “I’ll do that.”
Dean handed the baby up to Castiel, who laid the infant on his shoulder and began to tap on his back with motions that looked slightly mechanical and stilted… like it was a behavior he was still learning.
“Castiel… I need to apologize to you,” Bobby said without preamble.
Castiel cocked his head. “For what?”
“Let’s just say you were due one and leave it at that.”
Castiel’s eyebrows rose curiously. “Very well. Your apology is accepted.”
Daniel gave a hearty burp.
“All right! That was at least a seven,” Dean said.
“It is so pathetic that you score your son’s burps, dude,” Sam groaned.
Bobby expected Castiel to give the baby back to Dean. He didn’t. He brought the baby down off his shoulder to cradle him against his chest… that gesture looked far more practiced and ingrained. “I would have to object as well.”
“What? You too, Cas?” Dean sounded wounded.
“I’m afraid so… because that was nothing short of an eight.”
For a split second, nothing. Then Dean was laughing his ass off. Sam looked mortified on behalf of all of Heaven for his brother corrupting their wayward son. Bobby mumbled something about the weirdest-ass family on the planet, then raised his voice to say, “If you children are done, do you think we can get back to the Apocalypse?”
A hunter to the last, Dean was getting his game face back on, but not before flashing an amused glance Castiel’s way, followed by bringing up his hand and brushing his fingers over Daniel’s dark hair.
****************
The hodge-podge of items laid out on Bobby’s desk looked like the debris of a hunter’s cabin (the non-supernatural variety) to Dean, but the moment Castiel entered the room and saw those same items, he drew up short. “That’s a summoning ritual.”
“If I’m doing it right, it is,” Bobby agreed.
Castiel watched Bobby wheel toward the desk, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wandered closer to the desk, looked down at the contents, then drew back, shielding Daniel with his hands. “You should not attempt to summon an archangel on your own.”
“Oo, yeah,” Dean hissed, “that’s pretty dangerous, Bobby.” And if Dean, poster-child of reckless behavior, was saying that, it just proved how serious one had to be when fucking around with archangels.
“It’s good to know you all think I’m an idiot,” Bobby snarled. “According to my research, the actual summoning doesn’t happen until blood is used.”
“Of course,” Dean grumbled, “why is it always blood with you angels?” He gently took Daniel from Castiel and laid him on the couch. When the baby was settled, Dean came back and looked down at Bobby’s latest arts and crafts project.
An animal skin of some kind took up most of the table space. It was fur-side down, so Dean couldn’t really tell what kind of pelt it had. The tanned inside had vaguely familiar runes etched into it, presumably with the well-worn hunting knife lying on the skin’s corner like a paperweight. An old book (half in a language Dean couldn’t read) was open near the skin, and Dean had the ridiculous notion it was a hunter-style cookbook. Though he hadn’t a clue whatever the hell Bobby was whipping up, given the crap on the table.
It was all pretty baffling to Dean, but Castiel was not so befuddled. He studied the runes on the skin closely. “You’ve written Gabriel’s name in Enochian.”
“So it’s right? I didn’t have much to go by,” Bobby waved a hand at his towers of ancient books. Half of Bobby’s notes on Enochian were in his own handwriting, jotted down from what Castiel had shown him. Dean had the random thought that Bobby should write his own guide to angelese when this apocalypse crap was over.
“Your handwriting is atrocious, but it is good enough that I can read the name,” Castiel answered.
Sam snorted.
“Yeah, I’ll work on my penmanship,” Bobby said drolly. “So, I found this ritual in an obscure religious text. Seems there was a time when half-angel creatures called nephilim…” Bobby trailed and cast an uncertain glance toward Daniel lying on the couch.
“He’s not a nerf-herder,” Dean interjected. He eyed Castiel standing next to him, then added, “If he’s anything like Cas, when he gets older, he may be scruffy-looking, but he’s not a nerf-herder. He’s something different.”
Castiel was silently watching Dean with that ‘I have no idea what the words coming out of your mouth mean’ look. Dean met his stare head-on for a few protracted seconds, then gave him a ‘what?, that made total sense and you’re a weirdo angel for not getting it’ face.
With a crinkle forming briefly between his eyebrows, Castiel looked down at Bobby. “I have explained the nephilim to Sam and Dean.”
“Yeah, well, I can see how the topic might have come up.” Bobby looked over toward Daniel again. “So… he ain’t one?”
“He is not nephilim in the traditional meaning of the term.” Castiel hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t know what he is.”
“Our son,” Dean growled, glaring at Castiel.
“Besides that,” Castiel countered calmly. In an attempt to appease Dean, he amended, “I don’t know how he might be perceived in the eyes of Heaven.”
“Okay, well, then you all know about there being good nephilim and bad nephilim. From what I’ve been able to dig up, before God decided to just wipe his hands of the whole nephilim business and kill them all, some of the good ones were helping humans defend against the bad ones.” Bobby gestured at the skin on the table. “This was a nephilim trap. The people would carve the terrorizing nephilim’s name in blood on the skin of an albino lamb. When done in blood, in the language of the angels, it summoned the nephilim named on the skin. Now, I don’t have the supplies handy to make the ‘pen’ that held it there until the good nephilim could come deal with their misbehaving brother, and the binding spell to neutralize their power looks tricky…”
Dean felt the need to point out something. “Uh… Bobby, this is impressive and all, but… we’re not trying to hog-tie one of the angel/human mutts. We’re gunning for archangel here.”
“I know that,” Bobby retorted, “but from what I’ve been reading it might work on a full angel, too.”
“If it did, in fact, work against the nephilim, it’s quite possible it would prove effective against an angel, as well,” Castiel mused aloud. “The forces that governed angel and nephilim were essentially the same.”
“If it worked?” Sam asked.
The angel looked consternated. “I have never known of anything outside of warding sigils and holy fire that can contain an angel, and those do not neutralize an angel’s powers… only contain them. And Gabriel is very powerful. It would be a costly risk to take and end up being wrong.”
“So, we know holy fire works… let’s bust out some of that.”
“You still have the problem of how to disarm Gabriel,” Castiel noted.
“Yeah, and even if we did, how the hell do we use his sword?” Sam asked. “You know, without someone exploding.”
Dean looked sharply toward Castiel, remembering the last time (at Bobby’s, in fact) when they’d had the same discussion. Suddenly, he understood Castiel’s attitude toward the suicide mission-style plan. “You were gung ho to use the sword on Lucifer before because you thought you were a dead man anyway.” Dean glanced over at Daniel meaningfully.
Castiel followed his gaze, then answered, “I had every reason to believe I was destined to die either way, yes… but if this is the only way to defeat Lucifer, I am still willing to do it.”
“And I still say hell no to any plan where anyone explodes,” Dean snapped.
“We may not have the luxury of that choice,” Castiel returned evenly, eyes boring into Dean. Then Castiel faltered. “Although, the matter of getting close enough to Lucifer to use it would be an entirely different problem now.”
“Last time you said you could lure him into a trap,” Sam said, “couldn’t you…” then his face shifted when he realized what Castiel had planned to do. “You were going to call for Lucifer while you were… when that safety zone thing was going on while you were…” Sam waved a hand at Daniel abstractly.
Castiel nodded.
“That no fly zone thing you did with the demons in the woods… could you do that again?” Dean asked.
“It’s not something under my control. It’s an involuntary aspect of the separation process. It could only be recreated if I was breaking away another shattered one… and that is not something I can make happen.” Nor wanted to, from the look on his face.
Castiel returned his eyes to Bobby’s writing on the lambskin. He cocked his head and frowned, obviously put to the test trying to decipher Bobby’s crappy Enochian. He reached down, picked up the knife, and touched the tip to the skin. “You are missing part of a symbol here.” Castiel scratched it into the skin.
“What the hell did you do?”
The voice came from close behind Dean. And fuck, he knew that voice. And if he didn’t, the simultaneous sound of wings and the smell of ozone would have told him just who had popped in.
Gabriel.
Dean whirled around to face the archangel… but the archangel wasn’t looking at Dean. He was staring down in horror (rage?) at Daniel on the couch.
The baby started to scream.
Dean moved without thinking, trying to put himself between the archangel and his son. The stories of the nephilim being murdered flashed through his mind. He thought he might be about to find out just how nephilim Daniel was to the angels who’d destroyed the first ones.
Gabriel started to move.
Castiel moved faster. In the blink of an eye, Castiel had shoved Gabriel back, pushing him solidly into a wall. The house shook from the impact, dust motes fell from the ceiling, and a large crack raced up the length of Bobby’s living room wall from floor to ceiling.
Everyone froze, staring in stunned shock at the sight of Castiel pinning Gabriel to the wall, hands clenched in the archangel’s jacket. Gabriel’s feet were dangling a good foot off the ground. But the unbelievable thing was Gabriel’s face. He didn’t look bored or mildly amused, like being pinned to the wall was something he was letting happen. He looked surprised… like Castiel was overpowering him.
This was the same archangel who had snapped his fingers and jerked Castiel around on a whim in TV-land… and beat him up for good measure.
Gabriel looked down into Castiel’s face… and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Easy, mama bear… I’m not here to hurt him.”
Dean could see the tension shaking through Castiel’s body. He imagined Castiel wasn’t inclined to believe the archangel. Daniel was still crying, so Dean broke from where he’d stopped, rooted on the spot, and scooped up the baby. Daniel stopped wailing almost immediately, but he continued to make anxious mewling sounds.
Gabriel was watching, his expression unreadable. Then he looked back at Castiel. “I gotta give you credit for thinking outside the box, Castiel… I never would have thought you’d do that.” Then Gabriel’s expression sobered, all traces of teasing or taunting gone. “You can let me go… I promise I didn’t come to hurt him.”
Slowly, Castiel released Gabriel and backed off. Gabriel thudded to the floor and straightened his clothes. Castiel slowly backed away, eyes staying locked fiercely on Gabriel… he kept stepping backward until Dean (with Daniel in his arms) was at his back. There was no mistaking the ‘you want him, you have to go through me’ body language.
And Gabriel made no mistake on that count. He looked over at Castiel in full protector mode and lifted his eyebrows. “Huh.”
“If you’re not here to hurt him, then why are you here?” Sam demanded.
“Uh… hello? You called me, you dumbasses.”
Sam, Dean, and Bobby looked quickly at the lambskin. Castiel’s eyes never wavered from Gabriel.
“It wasn’t supposed to work until it was done in blood,” Bobby groused.
“You clearly don’t clean your knives well enough… not enough to count for next to godliness, anyway. And by the way, that binding stuff… wouldn’t have worked. Plenty of poor human bastards died figuring that one out. Humans have got to learn their only option when Heaven’s gone all Jerry Springer is to get out of the way of fighting angels.”
“Or become them,” Sam sneered.
“True. Though something tells me you boys haven’t come to your senses on that front.” Gabriel’s eyes moved to Dean standing behind Castiel’s shoulder. “So… you’ve been busy, Dean.”
Dean held Daniel closer.
Castiel shifted threateningly.
“Steady there,” Gabriel said, sounding genuinely concerned with keeping Castiel calm, “still not going to hurt him. So, congratulations, condolences? I’m sorry, I’m not sure on the protocol on this one. Hallmark doesn’t have a mongrel angel baby card section.”
“You can take your card and shove it up your ass,” Dean snarled. “Cas is alive now no thanks to you.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “What, you think I should have been party to that?” he gestured cautiously at the baby in Dean’s arms.
“You were going to just let your brother die.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention in class, Dean, but watching my brothers die is all I’ve got to look forward to. And let me tell you, it sucks.”
“My heart bleeds,” Dean spat. “You’re such a chicken-shit bastard, Gabe. You’d watch your brothers tear this world and each other apart before you did anything to stop it.”
“Listen, you prick,” Gabriel snapped. “Do you even get that what you mean by ‘putting a stop to it’ means you want me to kill Lucifer? Lucifer… my brother? Sounds so easy to you, but could you kill Sam? Even if it saved the world, I bet you couldn’t do it.
“And how dare you presume that I don’t love Lucifer just as much as I love Michael. How would you pick between your family members? Little Sammy over there or that kid in your arms… quick, pick now, Dean, which one would you kill to end the war?”
Dean didn’t have a retort to that.
Gabriel turned away from Dean in disgust and settled his eyes on Castiel. His posture relaxed. “I can’t say much for what you’ve done… but I am glad you’re not dead.”
“Could have fooled us,” Dean grumbled under his breath.
Castiel held tensely still. Gabriel just looked like he pitied Castiel. “I don’t envy you, Castiel… I could live with either side winning, doesn’t matter to me. I don’t have a reason to care who loses. But you do now. I’m sorry for that… would have been better for you if you never got invested.”
“I was already invested,” Castiel countered.
Gabriel smirked and cocked his head. His gaze flicked past Castiel to Dean then back to Castiel again. “Yeah, I guess you were. First rule of war, bro, don’t get attached to the collateral.”
“Don’t suppose since you’re here,” Bobby called out gruffly from his place behind his desk, “you’d just give us your big bad angel sword?”
Gabriel looked archly at Bobby. “You mean the one that says ‘badass motherfucker’ on it? Nah… I’m not going to do that. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor… whatever would be left of whichever one of you numbskulls tried to use it wouldn’t be pretty.” Gabriel paused then, looked sidelong at Castiel, and said, “Although, if you morons are really set on finding a weapon to use against Lucifer, you might not have to look as far as you think.”
“What’s that mean?” Sam asked.
“It’s more of a theory, really… you see, when God bade the angels to beget their own kind, Lucifer’s betrayal was still pretty fresh on everyone’s mind. And newborns of any species are vulnerable. They’d need protecting. Rumor has it that a ‘parent’ angel of even the lowest class has the power to take on an archangel equal to Lucifer himself if their ‘offspring’ is threatened.”
Speechless silence filled the room. Dean’s eyes went to the wall, cracked from Castiel subduing Gabriel, the archangel, when he thought he might be there to hurt Daniel.
“Of course,” Gabriel added nonchalantly, “it’s never been tested.”
That settled sickly in Dean’s stomach, because the only way to test it would be to let Lucifer near Daniel and hope Castiel had the mojo to smite him.
And if he didn’t, there was nothing to stop Lucifer from killing Daniel.
“We’ll figure something else out,” Sam vowed, his voice tense with the same thing Dean had been thinking.
“Because you’ve been doing so well so far,” Gabriel quipped. Then he checked his wrist for a watch he wasn’t even wearing. “Well, not that this hasn’t been a blast, but I can think of literally a million things I’d rather do than watch the Keystone Cops take on the Apocalypse. And quit calling me; you Winchesters aren’t that entertaining.”
With that, Gabriel was gone.
Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Well, shit… what’s plan W?”
Castiel turned around sharply to face Dean. Dean flinched. He hadn’t gotten a look at Castiel’s face until now (having been stuck behind the protective angel display the whole time), but he thought he understood now why Gabriel had been talking to Castiel like he was an agitated panther just about ready to snap. Castiel had his full angel wrath on; it was radiating off of him and burning like icy fire in his eyes. Dean wasn’t even the target of it, and he was cowed.
“Cas…?” Dean started to say, voice unsteady with uncertainty, but before he could get out anything else, Castiel reached over and plucked Daniel out of Dean’s arms. Dean squawked at first, then just stood and watched as Castiel gathered Daniel up against him, pressing the baby to his chest. The lingering complaints coming from Daniel stopped at the contact, and Castiel’s blazing wrath started to fade.
Dean contemplated patting Cas on the arm to reassure him, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was safe from an accidental smiting if he triggered something already on edge in Castiel.
So instead he turned to Bobby and Sam and said, “Okay, so… how else can we take down Lucifer?”
Bobby and Sam exchanged looks.
“Yeah, I got nothing, either,” Dean conceded. But they’d think of something… because they had to. It was that or the world end, and that simply could not happen.
Next
“You boys sure took your sweet-ass time,” Bobby said by way of brusque greeting the next day when the mismatched traveling group finally turned up at the salvage yard.
“Sorry about that,” Sam said as he moved past Bobby into the hallway and put their bags on the floor. “We had a scare with Daniel yesterday.”
Bobby turned his eyes toward Dean, who was walking into the house carrying the baby. The grizzled hunter looked shrewdly at the infant in Dean’s arms, sizing him up (all eight or nine pounds of him). “‘Daniel’, huh?”
Castiel was at the threshold, but he stopped shy of going inside the house. He looked over his shoulder at the gate they’d passed through, then turned to Dean. “I’m going to check the wards.”
“Sounds good,” Dean replied.
In the next second, the angel vanished.
It cleared a line of sight for Bobby to get a look at the Impala parked in front of his house. “Hell, Dean… what happened to your car?”
Dean winced, like the state of his baby was physically painful to him.
It was Sam who answered. “Yeah, uh… turns out angel giving birth is kind of like a bomb going off.”
Bobby grunted noncommittally. He rolled his chair backward, angling for the library. “Well, I’ve got everything I’ve found on pick-pocketing an archangel laid out; come have a look.”
“Can it wait maybe twenty minutes?” Dean asked. At Bobby’s questioning look, Dean explained, “Daniel’s starting to act like he’s hungry.” As if to prove Dean right, the baby chose that moment to whimper and kick.
“I’m on it,” Sam said, stooping down and fishing one of the bags off the floor. He made for the kitchen with it. Dean gave Bobby a contrite look and went after Sam. Bobby glowered after them both a few minutes before he pushed himself into the kitchen after them.
Sam was preparing a bottle with what already looked like practiced ease. Dean had taken a seat at the kitchen table and was repositioning the baby on his lap. Bobby just sat there watching the whole production, holding his tongue but judging mightily.
“Here you go.” Sam handed the ready bottle to Dean.
“Thanks, man.” Dean offered Daniel the bottle, and the kid didn’t need to be asked twice. He was drinking like a camel in two seconds flat. That was when Dean finally took his eyes off the kid and noticed Bobby’s ‘I judge you hard’ stare.
Dean scowled. “Okay, what?”
Bobby pursed his lips. “Look… I think it’s good of you two to look after Castiel’s angel baby and all, but… well, don’t you think now’s really not the time for it?”
Dean blinked. “What the… what the hell are we supposed to do?”
“I’m just saying we have bigger problems right now… a baby really doesn’t need to be added to them. There must be something else you can do with it.”
Dean’s expression darkened. “Jesus, Bobby… what kind of deadbeat do you think I am?”
“What’s that got to do with the fact that Castiel shouldn’t be making you two responsible for his kid?”
Dean’s expression shifted and he looked over at Sam. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Uh… no?” Sam shrugged sheepishly.
“Didn’t tell me what?” Bobby asked warily.
“Daniel’s my son,” Dean answered. After a beat, he continued, “He’s mine and Cas’s.”
Bobby’s eyes went wide, the older hunter suddenly indignant and building up to a good lecture.
“Oh, come on,” Dean snapped to forestall it. “Don’t even start, Bobby. It’s not like me and Cas got it on in the backseat and I forgot to wear a condom and knocked him up. It was nothing like that. Hello, angel.”
“Okay… then why don’t you tell me how exactly you ended up having a baby with an angel?”
As a slightly-less-agitated party in the room, Sam stepped forward to do the honors. “Turns out all that stuff we thought was Cas falling was actually this… well, it wasn’t a baby then. He described it like a fractured part of his grace. Apparently that’s how angels reproduce. Their grace breaks and a piece of it starts to grow on its own. But at a certain point, another angel has to offer part of its grace to actually make a new angel. I guess they don’t want angel-clones running around in Heaven or something…”
“But since Cas is fallen,” Dean said, “none of his dick brothers or sisters would help him.”
“And as it turns out, without another angel’s grace to finish the cycle, Cas would have died trying to give birth.” Sam blanched. “And he almost did.
“When no other angel would step up and help, we thought maybe a piece of human soul would work as a substitute for grace.”
Incredulous, Bobby looked over at Dean. “You gave up part of your soul?”
“Cas would have died if I didn’t,” Dean countered darkly. He paused a beat, then he glanced down at the baby. “And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Daniel.”
The gauntlet was thrown with that small statement, and they all knew it.
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was Daniel suckling on his bottle with a hearty appetite very much reminiscent of Dean Winchester.
Finally, Bobby broke the stalemate. “So… he’s yours, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Balls. Well then, let me take a look at him.” Bobby wheeled over to Dean and leaned forward to peer down at Daniel. The baby’s bright blue eyes moved toward the bearded face that crowded into his range of focus. His gaze held the hunter’s with burning intensity and his brow furrowed in concentration… though he never stopped guzzling his milk.
Bobby grunted. “Kid’s got the angel’s eyes.”
“Has his wings, too,” Dean said, and it was pretty damn obvious from his tone that he was proud about that.
Bobby shook his head. “Hell, the crap you boys get into…”
“To be fair,” Sam chimed in, “a nephew’s way better than the end results we usually get from our snafus.”
“Wait until he’s sixteen and see if you still think that,” Bobby joked, then he looked earnestly at Dean. “Listen, Dean… I’m sorry I told you that you should have ditched him. I didn’t know he was yours. I just thought that angel was taking advantage of you boys.”
“How could he even do that?” Sam asked while making a sour face.
“Please… would he have needed to do anything more than drop a baby on your doorstep to get you two to take care of it?”
Sam grumbled to himself.
True or not, Dean snorted. “You make us sound like girls, man. Ooo, look, Sammy, a baby! Can we keep it? Pleeeeease?”
Sam chuckled.
One side of Bobby’s mouth twitched upward. “Well, I have to admit I’ve been thinking some pretty ugly things about that angel and this baby business… so I guess I owe him an apology, too.” Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched Dean feed the baby. “But you don’t have to worry about me ever talking about you getting rid of Daniel again.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean’s eyebrows lifted. “Just like that?”
“Damn right. I know better. You don’t abandon your family… you’re too damn good a dad for that.” Then Bobby’s eyes cut meaningfully over to Sam. Sam smirked in agreement. Dean ducked his head to hide a possible blush, though he covered it well by acting like he was just checking on Daniel.
“And angel in him or not, the boy’s family,” Bobby said resolutely.
Dean cleared his throat and jostled Daniel gently. “What did I tell you, huh? Grandpa’s all hard on the outside, goo on the inside.”
Bobby rolled his eyes.
The sound of sheets snapping in the wind filled the kitchen, and suddenly Castiel was among them. He’d appeared next to Dean’s chair. His eyes went immediately to Daniel.
“We all good out there?” Dean asked as he pulled the empty bottle out of Daniel’s mouth.
“Yes… the sigils I put in place the last time we were here had not been tampered with.” He watched Dean shift the baby in his lap, propping him into a sitting position with a hand supporting his stomach and chest while his other hand began to pat the baby’s back.
After a beat, Castiel held out his hands for Daniel. “I’ll do that.”
Dean handed the baby up to Castiel, who laid the infant on his shoulder and began to tap on his back with motions that looked slightly mechanical and stilted… like it was a behavior he was still learning.
“Castiel… I need to apologize to you,” Bobby said without preamble.
Castiel cocked his head. “For what?”
“Let’s just say you were due one and leave it at that.”
Castiel’s eyebrows rose curiously. “Very well. Your apology is accepted.”
Daniel gave a hearty burp.
“All right! That was at least a seven,” Dean said.
“It is so pathetic that you score your son’s burps, dude,” Sam groaned.
Bobby expected Castiel to give the baby back to Dean. He didn’t. He brought the baby down off his shoulder to cradle him against his chest… that gesture looked far more practiced and ingrained. “I would have to object as well.”
“What? You too, Cas?” Dean sounded wounded.
“I’m afraid so… because that was nothing short of an eight.”
For a split second, nothing. Then Dean was laughing his ass off. Sam looked mortified on behalf of all of Heaven for his brother corrupting their wayward son. Bobby mumbled something about the weirdest-ass family on the planet, then raised his voice to say, “If you children are done, do you think we can get back to the Apocalypse?”
A hunter to the last, Dean was getting his game face back on, but not before flashing an amused glance Castiel’s way, followed by bringing up his hand and brushing his fingers over Daniel’s dark hair.
****************
The hodge-podge of items laid out on Bobby’s desk looked like the debris of a hunter’s cabin (the non-supernatural variety) to Dean, but the moment Castiel entered the room and saw those same items, he drew up short. “That’s a summoning ritual.”
“If I’m doing it right, it is,” Bobby agreed.
Castiel watched Bobby wheel toward the desk, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wandered closer to the desk, looked down at the contents, then drew back, shielding Daniel with his hands. “You should not attempt to summon an archangel on your own.”
“Oo, yeah,” Dean hissed, “that’s pretty dangerous, Bobby.” And if Dean, poster-child of reckless behavior, was saying that, it just proved how serious one had to be when fucking around with archangels.
“It’s good to know you all think I’m an idiot,” Bobby snarled. “According to my research, the actual summoning doesn’t happen until blood is used.”
“Of course,” Dean grumbled, “why is it always blood with you angels?” He gently took Daniel from Castiel and laid him on the couch. When the baby was settled, Dean came back and looked down at Bobby’s latest arts and crafts project.
An animal skin of some kind took up most of the table space. It was fur-side down, so Dean couldn’t really tell what kind of pelt it had. The tanned inside had vaguely familiar runes etched into it, presumably with the well-worn hunting knife lying on the skin’s corner like a paperweight. An old book (half in a language Dean couldn’t read) was open near the skin, and Dean had the ridiculous notion it was a hunter-style cookbook. Though he hadn’t a clue whatever the hell Bobby was whipping up, given the crap on the table.
It was all pretty baffling to Dean, but Castiel was not so befuddled. He studied the runes on the skin closely. “You’ve written Gabriel’s name in Enochian.”
“So it’s right? I didn’t have much to go by,” Bobby waved a hand at his towers of ancient books. Half of Bobby’s notes on Enochian were in his own handwriting, jotted down from what Castiel had shown him. Dean had the random thought that Bobby should write his own guide to angelese when this apocalypse crap was over.
“Your handwriting is atrocious, but it is good enough that I can read the name,” Castiel answered.
Sam snorted.
“Yeah, I’ll work on my penmanship,” Bobby said drolly. “So, I found this ritual in an obscure religious text. Seems there was a time when half-angel creatures called nephilim…” Bobby trailed and cast an uncertain glance toward Daniel lying on the couch.
“He’s not a nerf-herder,” Dean interjected. He eyed Castiel standing next to him, then added, “If he’s anything like Cas, when he gets older, he may be scruffy-looking, but he’s not a nerf-herder. He’s something different.”
Castiel was silently watching Dean with that ‘I have no idea what the words coming out of your mouth mean’ look. Dean met his stare head-on for a few protracted seconds, then gave him a ‘what?, that made total sense and you’re a weirdo angel for not getting it’ face.
With a crinkle forming briefly between his eyebrows, Castiel looked down at Bobby. “I have explained the nephilim to Sam and Dean.”
“Yeah, well, I can see how the topic might have come up.” Bobby looked over toward Daniel again. “So… he ain’t one?”
“He is not nephilim in the traditional meaning of the term.” Castiel hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t know what he is.”
“Our son,” Dean growled, glaring at Castiel.
“Besides that,” Castiel countered calmly. In an attempt to appease Dean, he amended, “I don’t know how he might be perceived in the eyes of Heaven.”
“Okay, well, then you all know about there being good nephilim and bad nephilim. From what I’ve been able to dig up, before God decided to just wipe his hands of the whole nephilim business and kill them all, some of the good ones were helping humans defend against the bad ones.” Bobby gestured at the skin on the table. “This was a nephilim trap. The people would carve the terrorizing nephilim’s name in blood on the skin of an albino lamb. When done in blood, in the language of the angels, it summoned the nephilim named on the skin. Now, I don’t have the supplies handy to make the ‘pen’ that held it there until the good nephilim could come deal with their misbehaving brother, and the binding spell to neutralize their power looks tricky…”
Dean felt the need to point out something. “Uh… Bobby, this is impressive and all, but… we’re not trying to hog-tie one of the angel/human mutts. We’re gunning for archangel here.”
“I know that,” Bobby retorted, “but from what I’ve been reading it might work on a full angel, too.”
“If it did, in fact, work against the nephilim, it’s quite possible it would prove effective against an angel, as well,” Castiel mused aloud. “The forces that governed angel and nephilim were essentially the same.”
“If it worked?” Sam asked.
The angel looked consternated. “I have never known of anything outside of warding sigils and holy fire that can contain an angel, and those do not neutralize an angel’s powers… only contain them. And Gabriel is very powerful. It would be a costly risk to take and end up being wrong.”
“So, we know holy fire works… let’s bust out some of that.”
“You still have the problem of how to disarm Gabriel,” Castiel noted.
“Yeah, and even if we did, how the hell do we use his sword?” Sam asked. “You know, without someone exploding.”
Dean looked sharply toward Castiel, remembering the last time (at Bobby’s, in fact) when they’d had the same discussion. Suddenly, he understood Castiel’s attitude toward the suicide mission-style plan. “You were gung ho to use the sword on Lucifer before because you thought you were a dead man anyway.” Dean glanced over at Daniel meaningfully.
Castiel followed his gaze, then answered, “I had every reason to believe I was destined to die either way, yes… but if this is the only way to defeat Lucifer, I am still willing to do it.”
“And I still say hell no to any plan where anyone explodes,” Dean snapped.
“We may not have the luxury of that choice,” Castiel returned evenly, eyes boring into Dean. Then Castiel faltered. “Although, the matter of getting close enough to Lucifer to use it would be an entirely different problem now.”
“Last time you said you could lure him into a trap,” Sam said, “couldn’t you…” then his face shifted when he realized what Castiel had planned to do. “You were going to call for Lucifer while you were… when that safety zone thing was going on while you were…” Sam waved a hand at Daniel abstractly.
Castiel nodded.
“That no fly zone thing you did with the demons in the woods… could you do that again?” Dean asked.
“It’s not something under my control. It’s an involuntary aspect of the separation process. It could only be recreated if I was breaking away another shattered one… and that is not something I can make happen.” Nor wanted to, from the look on his face.
Castiel returned his eyes to Bobby’s writing on the lambskin. He cocked his head and frowned, obviously put to the test trying to decipher Bobby’s crappy Enochian. He reached down, picked up the knife, and touched the tip to the skin. “You are missing part of a symbol here.” Castiel scratched it into the skin.
“What the hell did you do?”
The voice came from close behind Dean. And fuck, he knew that voice. And if he didn’t, the simultaneous sound of wings and the smell of ozone would have told him just who had popped in.
Gabriel.
Dean whirled around to face the archangel… but the archangel wasn’t looking at Dean. He was staring down in horror (rage?) at Daniel on the couch.
The baby started to scream.
Dean moved without thinking, trying to put himself between the archangel and his son. The stories of the nephilim being murdered flashed through his mind. He thought he might be about to find out just how nephilim Daniel was to the angels who’d destroyed the first ones.
Gabriel started to move.
Castiel moved faster. In the blink of an eye, Castiel had shoved Gabriel back, pushing him solidly into a wall. The house shook from the impact, dust motes fell from the ceiling, and a large crack raced up the length of Bobby’s living room wall from floor to ceiling.
Everyone froze, staring in stunned shock at the sight of Castiel pinning Gabriel to the wall, hands clenched in the archangel’s jacket. Gabriel’s feet were dangling a good foot off the ground. But the unbelievable thing was Gabriel’s face. He didn’t look bored or mildly amused, like being pinned to the wall was something he was letting happen. He looked surprised… like Castiel was overpowering him.
This was the same archangel who had snapped his fingers and jerked Castiel around on a whim in TV-land… and beat him up for good measure.
Gabriel looked down into Castiel’s face… and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Easy, mama bear… I’m not here to hurt him.”
Dean could see the tension shaking through Castiel’s body. He imagined Castiel wasn’t inclined to believe the archangel. Daniel was still crying, so Dean broke from where he’d stopped, rooted on the spot, and scooped up the baby. Daniel stopped wailing almost immediately, but he continued to make anxious mewling sounds.
Gabriel was watching, his expression unreadable. Then he looked back at Castiel. “I gotta give you credit for thinking outside the box, Castiel… I never would have thought you’d do that.” Then Gabriel’s expression sobered, all traces of teasing or taunting gone. “You can let me go… I promise I didn’t come to hurt him.”
Slowly, Castiel released Gabriel and backed off. Gabriel thudded to the floor and straightened his clothes. Castiel slowly backed away, eyes staying locked fiercely on Gabriel… he kept stepping backward until Dean (with Daniel in his arms) was at his back. There was no mistaking the ‘you want him, you have to go through me’ body language.
And Gabriel made no mistake on that count. He looked over at Castiel in full protector mode and lifted his eyebrows. “Huh.”
“If you’re not here to hurt him, then why are you here?” Sam demanded.
“Uh… hello? You called me, you dumbasses.”
Sam, Dean, and Bobby looked quickly at the lambskin. Castiel’s eyes never wavered from Gabriel.
“It wasn’t supposed to work until it was done in blood,” Bobby groused.
“You clearly don’t clean your knives well enough… not enough to count for next to godliness, anyway. And by the way, that binding stuff… wouldn’t have worked. Plenty of poor human bastards died figuring that one out. Humans have got to learn their only option when Heaven’s gone all Jerry Springer is to get out of the way of fighting angels.”
“Or become them,” Sam sneered.
“True. Though something tells me you boys haven’t come to your senses on that front.” Gabriel’s eyes moved to Dean standing behind Castiel’s shoulder. “So… you’ve been busy, Dean.”
Dean held Daniel closer.
Castiel shifted threateningly.
“Steady there,” Gabriel said, sounding genuinely concerned with keeping Castiel calm, “still not going to hurt him. So, congratulations, condolences? I’m sorry, I’m not sure on the protocol on this one. Hallmark doesn’t have a mongrel angel baby card section.”
“You can take your card and shove it up your ass,” Dean snarled. “Cas is alive now no thanks to you.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “What, you think I should have been party to that?” he gestured cautiously at the baby in Dean’s arms.
“You were going to just let your brother die.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention in class, Dean, but watching my brothers die is all I’ve got to look forward to. And let me tell you, it sucks.”
“My heart bleeds,” Dean spat. “You’re such a chicken-shit bastard, Gabe. You’d watch your brothers tear this world and each other apart before you did anything to stop it.”
“Listen, you prick,” Gabriel snapped. “Do you even get that what you mean by ‘putting a stop to it’ means you want me to kill Lucifer? Lucifer… my brother? Sounds so easy to you, but could you kill Sam? Even if it saved the world, I bet you couldn’t do it.
“And how dare you presume that I don’t love Lucifer just as much as I love Michael. How would you pick between your family members? Little Sammy over there or that kid in your arms… quick, pick now, Dean, which one would you kill to end the war?”
Dean didn’t have a retort to that.
Gabriel turned away from Dean in disgust and settled his eyes on Castiel. His posture relaxed. “I can’t say much for what you’ve done… but I am glad you’re not dead.”
“Could have fooled us,” Dean grumbled under his breath.
Castiel held tensely still. Gabriel just looked like he pitied Castiel. “I don’t envy you, Castiel… I could live with either side winning, doesn’t matter to me. I don’t have a reason to care who loses. But you do now. I’m sorry for that… would have been better for you if you never got invested.”
“I was already invested,” Castiel countered.
Gabriel smirked and cocked his head. His gaze flicked past Castiel to Dean then back to Castiel again. “Yeah, I guess you were. First rule of war, bro, don’t get attached to the collateral.”
“Don’t suppose since you’re here,” Bobby called out gruffly from his place behind his desk, “you’d just give us your big bad angel sword?”
Gabriel looked archly at Bobby. “You mean the one that says ‘badass motherfucker’ on it? Nah… I’m not going to do that. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor… whatever would be left of whichever one of you numbskulls tried to use it wouldn’t be pretty.” Gabriel paused then, looked sidelong at Castiel, and said, “Although, if you morons are really set on finding a weapon to use against Lucifer, you might not have to look as far as you think.”
“What’s that mean?” Sam asked.
“It’s more of a theory, really… you see, when God bade the angels to beget their own kind, Lucifer’s betrayal was still pretty fresh on everyone’s mind. And newborns of any species are vulnerable. They’d need protecting. Rumor has it that a ‘parent’ angel of even the lowest class has the power to take on an archangel equal to Lucifer himself if their ‘offspring’ is threatened.”
Speechless silence filled the room. Dean’s eyes went to the wall, cracked from Castiel subduing Gabriel, the archangel, when he thought he might be there to hurt Daniel.
“Of course,” Gabriel added nonchalantly, “it’s never been tested.”
That settled sickly in Dean’s stomach, because the only way to test it would be to let Lucifer near Daniel and hope Castiel had the mojo to smite him.
And if he didn’t, there was nothing to stop Lucifer from killing Daniel.
“We’ll figure something else out,” Sam vowed, his voice tense with the same thing Dean had been thinking.
“Because you’ve been doing so well so far,” Gabriel quipped. Then he checked his wrist for a watch he wasn’t even wearing. “Well, not that this hasn’t been a blast, but I can think of literally a million things I’d rather do than watch the Keystone Cops take on the Apocalypse. And quit calling me; you Winchesters aren’t that entertaining.”
With that, Gabriel was gone.
Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Well, shit… what’s plan W?”
Castiel turned around sharply to face Dean. Dean flinched. He hadn’t gotten a look at Castiel’s face until now (having been stuck behind the protective angel display the whole time), but he thought he understood now why Gabriel had been talking to Castiel like he was an agitated panther just about ready to snap. Castiel had his full angel wrath on; it was radiating off of him and burning like icy fire in his eyes. Dean wasn’t even the target of it, and he was cowed.
“Cas…?” Dean started to say, voice unsteady with uncertainty, but before he could get out anything else, Castiel reached over and plucked Daniel out of Dean’s arms. Dean squawked at first, then just stood and watched as Castiel gathered Daniel up against him, pressing the baby to his chest. The lingering complaints coming from Daniel stopped at the contact, and Castiel’s blazing wrath started to fade.
Dean contemplated patting Cas on the arm to reassure him, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was safe from an accidental smiting if he triggered something already on edge in Castiel.
So instead he turned to Bobby and Sam and said, “Okay, so… how else can we take down Lucifer?”
Bobby and Sam exchanged looks.
“Yeah, I got nothing, either,” Dean conceded. But they’d think of something… because they had to. It was that or the world end, and that simply could not happen.
Next