Marked (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {2}

28. Oliver Pryce

"I'm sorry."

"You should be!"

"Cas, let's go," Sam says.

"What? We're leaving?"

"Yeah, we can't fight off four angels," I agree with Sam. More have decided to aid Hannah, ready for a fight. We leave Heaven's entrance. "Even with me and you being the stronger team players."

"So...so what? You just want to give up on Metatron?"

"No, we need him," Sam says. "Time for plan 'B'. We break him out."

"Which is the dumbest idea on this planet, but we're desperate enough to do it," I sigh. "Okay, so, how are we gonna do this, Sam, since this was your genius idea?"

"I'll explain once we get in the truck." The second we get in, Sam pulls up his GPS. "Okay, so, if we can't get in the nice way, we gotta do it the hard way. That requires someone on the other end to help us get into Heaven."

"You mean like an inside man?" I ask. "Who could we possibly have in Heaven that would help us do something as crazy as this?"

"Bobby."

My mouth parts, and I rub my eyes. Right. Sam had mentioned Bobby Singer has been dead for a few years now. In a heartbeat, I know that old man would want to help us Winchesters. He'd treated us like his own blood whenever we were around. In fact, he gave us more childhood memories than our actual father did. Bobby made us feel like kids more than John Winchester ever could. And that was saying something.

"Bobby?" I repeat. "Okay, so, how are we gonna make that happen?"

"Take us here." Sam shows me the GPS destination. "And I'll explain it on the way."

Our drive takes us into night. I park the truck across the street from the house we're seeking out. We start to cross the street.

"So, back in the fifties, Oliver Pryce was a kid psychic," Sam explains. "He performed everywhere...carnivals, Atlantic City...you name it. He was the real deal. Now, the Men of Letters were teaching him how to control his powers when they got...you know."

"Brutally slaughtered?" I say bluntly.

"The point is, he's one of the good guys. He might be happy to see us."

"Or not." I notice the "No Trespassing" signs on Pryce's fence.

"Mr. Pryce?" Sam knocks on the door. "Oliver Pryce!"

"I'll break it down," Cas offers.

"Dude, dude, dude. Chill."

"If anything, I'll break it down," I scoff.

"What?" Cas looks at us both innocently. "I'm helping."

"Just follow my lead," says Sam. The door opens, revealing a small, glasses-bearing Oliver Pryce. "Mr. Pryce? This is Sam—"

"Winchester," Pryce finishes. "You're Sam Winchester, Man of Letters. And you're Josette Winchester."

"Y-yeah," I say, eyeing him warily. "H-how did you, uh..."

"Mind reader, remember? And you're...What are you?" Pryce looks at Cas.

"I'm an angel," says Cas.

"That...No, you can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm an atheist."

"Not anymore," I mumble. Pryce lets our party inside, and we get escorted to something that's both a living room and a dining room, all in one. I notice a picture nearby. "That's you?"

"Was me," Pryce says. "I don't do the psychic stuff anymore. Being around people, it's kind of...Hell. All those brains yapping all the time drives a guy bananas."

"Because you can hear everyone's thoughts," Cas muses.

"Well, not yours. All I'm getting from you is...colors. But the hippie over here? I'm seeing some creep-ass Hobbit-lookin' fella, a prison cell?"

"Wow, spot on," I murmur, impressed with Oliver Pryce. This guy is the real deal. But how can he see colors with Cas and not me? If I'm a demon, wouldn't he be seeing darkness or the colors of Hell that I saw? "That's Heaven's jail."

"Heaven's got a freakin' jail?"

"Yeah. Yeah it does. And we're looking to break someone out of it."

"We have an inside man," Cas explains, "but we need your help to talk to him."

"And if I say no?"

"You're the mind reader," I say neutrally.

"I'll get my crap."