Unexpected Destinies Chapter 105
Title: Unexpected Destinies
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,919
Summary: Dean discovers what happened and finds himself in a very desperate situation.
PAST
Despite the pain and shock of it all, Dean found himself twisting with the force so that when he hit the ground again he rolled instead of hitting it flat and letting his momentum send him sliding across the asphalt. It was instinct born from years of hard training with his father and decades of hunting. The other thing he did instinctively was to clutch the key tighter to his chest and he tried to end his roll with it underneath him to make it harder for anyone to steal, but before he could recover his senses enough to do anything, he was flipped and the staff ripped from his hands.
"Dean!" Raphael cried out.
Dean had brief glimpse of a petite blond woman standing above him before she knocked him aside with a single wave of her hand, sending him slamming into the stone side of the museum with a sickening crunch of bones. The pain was horrendous, easily worse than anything he'd had since Simiel had run him and Michael through with her sword in Stull Cemetery, but it had nothing on what he'd experienced in Hell.
Simiel.
The memory of what had happened during the Rite of Contressa allowed the recognition Dean had felt upon seeing the blond chick click into place. It was Simiel and that was the second time the bitch had snuck up on him and effectively benched him before he even knew what was happening. Nausea roiled through him and he tried to move his head in case he vomited but found that he really had to focus to do so. Pain stabbed at his brain and everything seemed fuzzy and distorted. Shit this wasn't just a normal concussion, he'd had enough of those in his life to instantly be able to recognize them, no this was something far, far worse. Panic flared to life within him as he tried to force his body to obey him and only got slight twitches and more agonizing pain for his efforts. This was something that he wasn't used to. He'd gotten spoiled these last few months spending so much time with not one but three archangels who seemed to consider it a personal affront if he was injured while in their presence. Or no, not even that, simply injured, period.
Well that and Hell, Dean realized. Yeah, pain had never, ever stopped down there, but it had never been accompanied by this shattered awareness and haze either. It was one of the many horrors of Hell; the fact that you could never escape the pain no matter how bad it got or what your torturer did. There was no unconsciousness down there, no haze to dampen the effects of all of the torture, just pure, unblemished clarity and consciousness. Even when it would have been physically impossible to still be awake and aware up here, one still was down there. So between the instant healing these days and that particular nuance of Hell, he'd started to forget exactly how much pain could cloud the mind and muddy the awareness. Even his realization of this took far longer than it should have and that caused the panic to claw at him even more.
Raphael!
Yes, the guy was an archangel, but Dean could clearly recall what Michael and Castiel had said about how not all archangels were created equally and he remembered only all too well how at Stull it had taken both Raphael and Castiel to drive off Simiel. And she had the key. Those thoughts spurred him into action and he tried to ignore the pain (hey, Hell had been good for something, who knew?) and forced his meatsuit to obey his commands and move. It seemed to take ages, but he finally managed to get it moving and once that happened, it seemed easier to keep it moving. And it really couldn't be a good sign that he was starting to think of himself as an 'it.' Or was it simply that he'd come to recognize that he was truly his soul and that his meatsuit was merely a convenient and temporary housing for it much as an angel's vessel was merely a short term receptacle for their Grace?
Great, now he was starting to get philosophical, someone please shoot him now and put him out of his misery before he turned into something he really didn't recognize.
When Dean finally managed to lift his head enough to see what was going on, the loud clashing sounds that had been threatening to explode his head finally made sense. Not that there would have been any doubt about their identity if he'd been thinking clearly, because of course it would be the sound of one angelic sword striking another. He knew what that sounded like and, moreover, it made sense given the circumstances. The awe of watching two angels, let alone two archangels, engaging in deadly battle washed over him and all he could do was stare in horrified wonder and fascination before the pertinent bit of that observation finally penetrated.
Deadly battle.
As it was, Raphael was already bloody, a deep gash on his chest that would have had any human faltering bleeding heavily, though Dean was pleased to see that Simiel was not altogether pristine herself. Not that the cut to her upper left arm was all that damaging, but still, it was proof that Raphael could and had gotten past her guard. The area around the two was also proof that this was no normal battle as cars had been flung aside as if they were nothing but toys a child had thrown aside in the middle of a tantrum, while the sides of the buildings around were buckled and he knew one or both of the two combatants had gone crashing into them. Amazingly there was no crowd of gawking spectators despite the fact that this was by no means a deserted or forlorn part of town. Perhaps people, for once, had the good sense to flee instead of choosing to stare in horror and disbelief? Or, more likely, one of the two archangels had done something to keep onlookers away. He was tempted to accredit it to Raphael, but he doubted that Simiel wanted to be interrupted either even if she already had her prize.
And what the hell had he been thinking, just waltzing the key outside right past all of the anti-angel sigils when he knew that demons were after it? While Crowley was proof that not every single demon was a lackey of Lucifer's, the vast majority of them were and he really should have thought of the fact that perhaps they'd been sent by the devil or Simiel to retrieve that which they couldn't get themselves. Stupid, idiotic mistake! It was something he was sure Michael, Castiel or Raphael would have realized if they'd learned what he had.
Oh.
Michael and Castiel.
They would be able to help Raphael.
Too bad they weren't here.
Oh.
He could call them.
Or no, not them, at least not yet. But perhaps soon. Dean smiled as he thought of the bonding and the book Michael had given him. If he went through with that, if he and Cas got angel married, then it was possible that he'd be able to call his lover like he could his friend. Only then Castiel wouldn't be his lover anymore. He'd be his husband, or rather his angel husband. Not his angel husband in the sense that Castiel would be an angel and his husband (which he was and would be), but rather that Castiel would then be his husband by angelic standards like it would be an angel marriage instead of a human marriage. So his angel husband as well as his angel husband. See, it worked both ways.
Dean frowned. If they got angel married then why wouldn't they be human married? Oh, right, of course, that had different rules and all of that. But if they got angel married then why couldn't they also get human married? They'd have to move, sure, but he hadn't been to Massachusetts for a while and they could get another apartment there, a better one and he could forge documents for Castiel. He liked forging documents, it was fun.
The horrible screeching sound of metal being twisted past its limits and the tinkling of broken glass made Dean wince but drew his attention back to the two fighting archangels and he cursed his inattentiveness. He couldn't immediately spot Raphael, but based on what he'd heard and the way Simiel was stalking towards the twisted remains of mangled car he didn't immediately recognize the make of, he could guess where the other archangel currently was. Right, this had to end now.
"Michael," Dean whispered, thankful that previous experience had taught him that he didn't need to be loud to attract his friend's attention as he didn't think he could be just now.
However instead of summoning help, all his cry did was make Simiel pause and turn to look at him with a perverted smile on her face. "Michael can't hear you just now, mud monkey," Simiel stated gleefully. "I didn't want our time together interrupted and took the effort of putting up a block so neither of you can call for big brother."
The words horrified Dean but when Simiel took a few steps towards him, there was a roar of rage and then Raphael was flying at her and together they smashed straight through the brick side of a neighboring building. He blinked in shock as he looked at the jagged hole in the wall before the sound of clashing swords snapped him out of it. Staying conscious was becoming harder and harder so it was a good thing that he was a stubborn bastard, but if he was going to do something he would have to do it fast or he'd be completely down for the count. The only problem was that his mind seemed stuck on the 'call for Michael' option and he couldn't quite seem to get it to think of anything else. Just call for Michael, call for Michael, call for Michael.
The pain was worse as he tried to move, but Dean found that it helped sharpen his awareness a little but still not enough to get past the whole 'call for Michael' thing. It took him a while to realize that his little mantra wasn't merely a repeat of what he'd already tried, and failed, to do, but rather still a valid suggestion for further action. He'd been around angels for so long that his first thought when calling for help was to rely on the bond that existed between himself and Michael as it did between all vessels and their angels. But that wasn't the only way he could call for help or even the only way that he could call for Michael. There was another way, a human way, and one that he was sure that Simiel would not have thought of in order to attempt to block it.
Spurred on by the idea, Dean forced his right arm into action (from the sharp pain radiating from his left one he was pretty sure that it was broken in at least one place) and reached for his cell phone. It took a while and during that time, Raphael and Simiel had fought their way back out of the building and into his line of sight and he kept his eyes glued to them, not wanting to give the game away should Simiel glance his way. Not that he expected her to, she was as arrogant as Lucifer and probably didn't even consider him a threat. The only reason that she'd disabled him at all was because she could and he'd had something that she wanted. Well she was about to learn the mistake of that particular line of thought.
All of Dean's hope shattered the moment that his fingers touched his cell and pain flared sharp in his side. Or rather he should say what remained of his cell as what he'd touched clearly wasn't a fully intact phone anymore. Well at least that explained why it felt like he had glass shards in his side. It wasn't glass but rather the broken pieces of his and Raphael's last hope. Fuck.
Dean closed his eyes as the full weight of their situation sunk in. Here they were in South Africa of all places, cut off from both Michael and Castiel, him seriously injured and Simiel slowly taking Raphael apart. How long would it take for Michael and Castiel to realize that something wasn't right? That something had happened? He hadn't had any plans for the evening with his lover, not like they'd had the night Castiel had been trapped and attacked by Meg, so it could easily be too late before anyone figured out that something was wrong and came looking for them. And even if they were to notice it now, would it do them any good? Was Simiel strong enough to keep their presences cloaked from Michael himself? Or would his friend be able to see through her tricks and find them anyway?
Not that it really mattered as he doubted that either Michael or Castiel was currently looking for them. Of all the stupid things, why did he have to put his cell in that pocket? It wasn't even the pocket he'd used to keep his phone in, no he'd used to keep his cell in the pocket on the other side where he was able to get at it just that much faster. He'd only taken to putting it in this pocket when he'd started to carry th-
The Jewel of Abel!
His eyes snapped open again as he remembered that he'd only switched the pocket he kept his cell in because the Jewel of Abel was scratching the screen when they were kept in the same pocket. Dean hardly dared breathe as hope flared to life within him once more. His questing fingers had just closed around it when there was a cry of pain from Raphael and he looked up to see that Simiel had used the key as a weapon and had impaled one set of the archangel's wings with it, pinning them to the ground. Horror rose within him as he thought of how delicate those wings were and he wondered how on Earth Simiel had managed to use the key to do that as they should have passed straight through it. The sight propelled him into action as Simiel used the shock and pain of the action to knock Raphael's sword away, leaving the archangel defenseless.
Luckily Simiel didn't seem interested in going straight for a killing blow and Dean said a quick prayer as he felt the Jewel of Abel come to life around his hand, metal strands wrapping themselves around his wrist. Driven by pure adrenaline and the knowledge that Raphael was as good as dead if he failed or was too slow, he forced his complaining body upright, not at all sure if he'd even be able to fire the Jewel but absolutely determined to at the very least try it.
No. Do or do not, there is no try.
Dean nearly giggled as Yoda's voice of all things drifted through his mind. What the hell was he doing thinking of blasted Star Wars of all things just now? He wasn't some fucking nerd, even if the point was a very valid one. He would not be getting a second chance at this. If he failed, or he missed, Simiel would most likely slaughter him and all that Raphael would be able to do was watch as it happened. So he had to do this right the first time or it was lights out.
It seemed to take forever for Dean to get upright but since all that Simiel had done was to bring the tip of her sword to Raphael's chin to make him look at her, that was okay. Better to take just a little longer so long as she was busy gloating and generally continuing to ignore him as he was no more than a worthless and pathetic mud monkey to her. Well he'd teach her to disregard him so easily. He had a reputation to maintain after all, even if it was clear that she either hadn't heard of it or didn't think it credible. That seemed easier said than done though as his arm felt like it was made of lead and the ground was a giant magnet, determined to pull it- not to mention the rest of him- back down.
All of Dean's caution flew out of the window when Simiel finally seemed to reach the end of whatever speech she was giving Raphael and drew her arm back with the clear intention of running her brother through with her sword. Through sheer determination he was able to bring the Jewel of Abel to life though it felt like it was sucking all of the remaining energy out of him into the flash of light that shot from his palm.
Instead of being able to see if he'd hit his target, Dean was abruptly reminded of the kickback of the Jewel as he was lifted clear off his feet and flung backwards in into the stone side of the museum and everything went black.
Chapter 106
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,919
Summary: Dean discovers what happened and finds himself in a very desperate situation.
PAST
Despite the pain and shock of it all, Dean found himself twisting with the force so that when he hit the ground again he rolled instead of hitting it flat and letting his momentum send him sliding across the asphalt. It was instinct born from years of hard training with his father and decades of hunting. The other thing he did instinctively was to clutch the key tighter to his chest and he tried to end his roll with it underneath him to make it harder for anyone to steal, but before he could recover his senses enough to do anything, he was flipped and the staff ripped from his hands.
"Dean!" Raphael cried out.
Dean had brief glimpse of a petite blond woman standing above him before she knocked him aside with a single wave of her hand, sending him slamming into the stone side of the museum with a sickening crunch of bones. The pain was horrendous, easily worse than anything he'd had since Simiel had run him and Michael through with her sword in Stull Cemetery, but it had nothing on what he'd experienced in Hell.
Simiel.
The memory of what had happened during the Rite of Contressa allowed the recognition Dean had felt upon seeing the blond chick click into place. It was Simiel and that was the second time the bitch had snuck up on him and effectively benched him before he even knew what was happening. Nausea roiled through him and he tried to move his head in case he vomited but found that he really had to focus to do so. Pain stabbed at his brain and everything seemed fuzzy and distorted. Shit this wasn't just a normal concussion, he'd had enough of those in his life to instantly be able to recognize them, no this was something far, far worse. Panic flared to life within him as he tried to force his body to obey him and only got slight twitches and more agonizing pain for his efforts. This was something that he wasn't used to. He'd gotten spoiled these last few months spending so much time with not one but three archangels who seemed to consider it a personal affront if he was injured while in their presence. Or no, not even that, simply injured, period.
Well that and Hell, Dean realized. Yeah, pain had never, ever stopped down there, but it had never been accompanied by this shattered awareness and haze either. It was one of the many horrors of Hell; the fact that you could never escape the pain no matter how bad it got or what your torturer did. There was no unconsciousness down there, no haze to dampen the effects of all of the torture, just pure, unblemished clarity and consciousness. Even when it would have been physically impossible to still be awake and aware up here, one still was down there. So between the instant healing these days and that particular nuance of Hell, he'd started to forget exactly how much pain could cloud the mind and muddy the awareness. Even his realization of this took far longer than it should have and that caused the panic to claw at him even more.
Raphael!
Yes, the guy was an archangel, but Dean could clearly recall what Michael and Castiel had said about how not all archangels were created equally and he remembered only all too well how at Stull it had taken both Raphael and Castiel to drive off Simiel. And she had the key. Those thoughts spurred him into action and he tried to ignore the pain (hey, Hell had been good for something, who knew?) and forced his meatsuit to obey his commands and move. It seemed to take ages, but he finally managed to get it moving and once that happened, it seemed easier to keep it moving. And it really couldn't be a good sign that he was starting to think of himself as an 'it.' Or was it simply that he'd come to recognize that he was truly his soul and that his meatsuit was merely a convenient and temporary housing for it much as an angel's vessel was merely a short term receptacle for their Grace?
Great, now he was starting to get philosophical, someone please shoot him now and put him out of his misery before he turned into something he really didn't recognize.
When Dean finally managed to lift his head enough to see what was going on, the loud clashing sounds that had been threatening to explode his head finally made sense. Not that there would have been any doubt about their identity if he'd been thinking clearly, because of course it would be the sound of one angelic sword striking another. He knew what that sounded like and, moreover, it made sense given the circumstances. The awe of watching two angels, let alone two archangels, engaging in deadly battle washed over him and all he could do was stare in horrified wonder and fascination before the pertinent bit of that observation finally penetrated.
Deadly battle.
As it was, Raphael was already bloody, a deep gash on his chest that would have had any human faltering bleeding heavily, though Dean was pleased to see that Simiel was not altogether pristine herself. Not that the cut to her upper left arm was all that damaging, but still, it was proof that Raphael could and had gotten past her guard. The area around the two was also proof that this was no normal battle as cars had been flung aside as if they were nothing but toys a child had thrown aside in the middle of a tantrum, while the sides of the buildings around were buckled and he knew one or both of the two combatants had gone crashing into them. Amazingly there was no crowd of gawking spectators despite the fact that this was by no means a deserted or forlorn part of town. Perhaps people, for once, had the good sense to flee instead of choosing to stare in horror and disbelief? Or, more likely, one of the two archangels had done something to keep onlookers away. He was tempted to accredit it to Raphael, but he doubted that Simiel wanted to be interrupted either even if she already had her prize.
And what the hell had he been thinking, just waltzing the key outside right past all of the anti-angel sigils when he knew that demons were after it? While Crowley was proof that not every single demon was a lackey of Lucifer's, the vast majority of them were and he really should have thought of the fact that perhaps they'd been sent by the devil or Simiel to retrieve that which they couldn't get themselves. Stupid, idiotic mistake! It was something he was sure Michael, Castiel or Raphael would have realized if they'd learned what he had.
Oh.
Michael and Castiel.
They would be able to help Raphael.
Too bad they weren't here.
Oh.
He could call them.
Or no, not them, at least not yet. But perhaps soon. Dean smiled as he thought of the bonding and the book Michael had given him. If he went through with that, if he and Cas got angel married, then it was possible that he'd be able to call his lover like he could his friend. Only then Castiel wouldn't be his lover anymore. He'd be his husband, or rather his angel husband. Not his angel husband in the sense that Castiel would be an angel and his husband (which he was and would be), but rather that Castiel would then be his husband by angelic standards like it would be an angel marriage instead of a human marriage. So his angel husband as well as his angel husband. See, it worked both ways.
Dean frowned. If they got angel married then why wouldn't they be human married? Oh, right, of course, that had different rules and all of that. But if they got angel married then why couldn't they also get human married? They'd have to move, sure, but he hadn't been to Massachusetts for a while and they could get another apartment there, a better one and he could forge documents for Castiel. He liked forging documents, it was fun.
The horrible screeching sound of metal being twisted past its limits and the tinkling of broken glass made Dean wince but drew his attention back to the two fighting archangels and he cursed his inattentiveness. He couldn't immediately spot Raphael, but based on what he'd heard and the way Simiel was stalking towards the twisted remains of mangled car he didn't immediately recognize the make of, he could guess where the other archangel currently was. Right, this had to end now.
"Michael," Dean whispered, thankful that previous experience had taught him that he didn't need to be loud to attract his friend's attention as he didn't think he could be just now.
However instead of summoning help, all his cry did was make Simiel pause and turn to look at him with a perverted smile on her face. "Michael can't hear you just now, mud monkey," Simiel stated gleefully. "I didn't want our time together interrupted and took the effort of putting up a block so neither of you can call for big brother."
The words horrified Dean but when Simiel took a few steps towards him, there was a roar of rage and then Raphael was flying at her and together they smashed straight through the brick side of a neighboring building. He blinked in shock as he looked at the jagged hole in the wall before the sound of clashing swords snapped him out of it. Staying conscious was becoming harder and harder so it was a good thing that he was a stubborn bastard, but if he was going to do something he would have to do it fast or he'd be completely down for the count. The only problem was that his mind seemed stuck on the 'call for Michael' option and he couldn't quite seem to get it to think of anything else. Just call for Michael, call for Michael, call for Michael.
The pain was worse as he tried to move, but Dean found that it helped sharpen his awareness a little but still not enough to get past the whole 'call for Michael' thing. It took him a while to realize that his little mantra wasn't merely a repeat of what he'd already tried, and failed, to do, but rather still a valid suggestion for further action. He'd been around angels for so long that his first thought when calling for help was to rely on the bond that existed between himself and Michael as it did between all vessels and their angels. But that wasn't the only way he could call for help or even the only way that he could call for Michael. There was another way, a human way, and one that he was sure that Simiel would not have thought of in order to attempt to block it.
Spurred on by the idea, Dean forced his right arm into action (from the sharp pain radiating from his left one he was pretty sure that it was broken in at least one place) and reached for his cell phone. It took a while and during that time, Raphael and Simiel had fought their way back out of the building and into his line of sight and he kept his eyes glued to them, not wanting to give the game away should Simiel glance his way. Not that he expected her to, she was as arrogant as Lucifer and probably didn't even consider him a threat. The only reason that she'd disabled him at all was because she could and he'd had something that she wanted. Well she was about to learn the mistake of that particular line of thought.
All of Dean's hope shattered the moment that his fingers touched his cell and pain flared sharp in his side. Or rather he should say what remained of his cell as what he'd touched clearly wasn't a fully intact phone anymore. Well at least that explained why it felt like he had glass shards in his side. It wasn't glass but rather the broken pieces of his and Raphael's last hope. Fuck.
Dean closed his eyes as the full weight of their situation sunk in. Here they were in South Africa of all places, cut off from both Michael and Castiel, him seriously injured and Simiel slowly taking Raphael apart. How long would it take for Michael and Castiel to realize that something wasn't right? That something had happened? He hadn't had any plans for the evening with his lover, not like they'd had the night Castiel had been trapped and attacked by Meg, so it could easily be too late before anyone figured out that something was wrong and came looking for them. And even if they were to notice it now, would it do them any good? Was Simiel strong enough to keep their presences cloaked from Michael himself? Or would his friend be able to see through her tricks and find them anyway?
Not that it really mattered as he doubted that either Michael or Castiel was currently looking for them. Of all the stupid things, why did he have to put his cell in that pocket? It wasn't even the pocket he'd used to keep his phone in, no he'd used to keep his cell in the pocket on the other side where he was able to get at it just that much faster. He'd only taken to putting it in this pocket when he'd started to carry th-
The Jewel of Abel!
His eyes snapped open again as he remembered that he'd only switched the pocket he kept his cell in because the Jewel of Abel was scratching the screen when they were kept in the same pocket. Dean hardly dared breathe as hope flared to life within him once more. His questing fingers had just closed around it when there was a cry of pain from Raphael and he looked up to see that Simiel had used the key as a weapon and had impaled one set of the archangel's wings with it, pinning them to the ground. Horror rose within him as he thought of how delicate those wings were and he wondered how on Earth Simiel had managed to use the key to do that as they should have passed straight through it. The sight propelled him into action as Simiel used the shock and pain of the action to knock Raphael's sword away, leaving the archangel defenseless.
Luckily Simiel didn't seem interested in going straight for a killing blow and Dean said a quick prayer as he felt the Jewel of Abel come to life around his hand, metal strands wrapping themselves around his wrist. Driven by pure adrenaline and the knowledge that Raphael was as good as dead if he failed or was too slow, he forced his complaining body upright, not at all sure if he'd even be able to fire the Jewel but absolutely determined to at the very least try it.
No. Do or do not, there is no try.
Dean nearly giggled as Yoda's voice of all things drifted through his mind. What the hell was he doing thinking of blasted Star Wars of all things just now? He wasn't some fucking nerd, even if the point was a very valid one. He would not be getting a second chance at this. If he failed, or he missed, Simiel would most likely slaughter him and all that Raphael would be able to do was watch as it happened. So he had to do this right the first time or it was lights out.
It seemed to take forever for Dean to get upright but since all that Simiel had done was to bring the tip of her sword to Raphael's chin to make him look at her, that was okay. Better to take just a little longer so long as she was busy gloating and generally continuing to ignore him as he was no more than a worthless and pathetic mud monkey to her. Well he'd teach her to disregard him so easily. He had a reputation to maintain after all, even if it was clear that she either hadn't heard of it or didn't think it credible. That seemed easier said than done though as his arm felt like it was made of lead and the ground was a giant magnet, determined to pull it- not to mention the rest of him- back down.
All of Dean's caution flew out of the window when Simiel finally seemed to reach the end of whatever speech she was giving Raphael and drew her arm back with the clear intention of running her brother through with her sword. Through sheer determination he was able to bring the Jewel of Abel to life though it felt like it was sucking all of the remaining energy out of him into the flash of light that shot from his palm.
Instead of being able to see if he'd hit his target, Dean was abruptly reminded of the kickback of the Jewel as he was lifted clear off his feet and flung backwards in into the stone side of the museum and everything went black.
Chapter 106