A/N: So, I didn't like this chapter, but I hope you guys do. XD The next chapter is currently underway, but I can't make promises about when it'll be out. Also, I apologize to any 5SOS fans. I didn't realize Luke Hemmings was a real person, much less a famous musician. A warning! There is a pretty graphic description of torture within the first few pages. Enjoy, my ever patient readers!
I stumbled, gasping, my insides burning. I had never tried that before alone. It hurt so damn bad.
I looked up, realizing that I was standing on some street corner. Sucking deep gulps of pained breath, I analyzed my surroundings. There were only a few people around the small town. None seemed to have noticed me. A coffee shop stood to the left of me, with a hardware store on the right.
I hefted my satchel up onto my shoulder once more, setting off down the street, keeping an eye out for a sign of where I might be. I glanced in a hobbyist window, making out the depiction of a state shape that had been embroidered on a throw pillow. "South Carolina." I said aloud to no one in particular.
I jumped suddenly, goosebumps rising on my arms as my cell phone started blaring "Renegade." I fumbled in my pocket for the device before answering with a slightly annoyed, "Hello?"
"Hey."
"Luke?" I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice. "What is it?"
"Um, MacK. I, um, I've got something here that has your name on it. It was with her stuff. I wasn't sure if maybe you'd want to take a look at it."
Her. Meaning Emma, I realized. A needle pricked at my heart once more. "Yeah. Sure. What is it? Where are you?"
"Uh, I'm in South Carolina." The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? I had popped here by accident. I'd been aiming for Georgia really, but must have dropped when I couldn't make it. Then again, coincidences didn't happen in my lifetime.
Luke continued, "It's a journal, a book of some kind."
"You got an exact address?"
"184 Bloomington Street, Lancaster Mill, Deer Run Motel, room nine."
I nodded. "I'll be there, give me a few hours."
"Wait, where are you?"
I hung up. "Alright." I said once more to the empty air. "Let's get this party started."
* * * * * *
I'd hitched a ride to Lancaster Mill. And by 'hitched a ride,' I mean hotwired a car. Sorry, but times are tough.
I knocked on the door to room nine and moments later, it was opened by the blond haired boy I remembered from Wyoming. "Hey. How are you?" He asked, gesturing me in.
I sat down on the unmade bed, smiling faintly. "Okay. You?"
He cleared his throat. "Same old."
I nodded, silence descending on us. Shifting uncomfortably, I cleared my own throat. "So this journal you were telling me about?"
"Uh, right." He scratched the back of his neck. He shifted through the debris on the table. "So you gonna tell me what all this is about?"
"If Emma didn't want you to know, I'm not gonna break it to you now."
That wasn't the only reason.
"Aha!" he produced a thick leather bound book and handed it to me.
I read aloud in a reverent whisper, my fingers brushing over the cover, "Mac Thomas."
"What is it?"
"I think it's my grandfather's hunting journal."
Luke pointed to the strange symbol on the side of the leather binding. "What does that mean?"
I studied it. A six pointed star inside a double circle. "I don't know. I've never seen one exactly like this before. Some kind of hexagram. Maybe protection."
I stood, opening the book slowly, afraid that the yellowing pages could crumble. Then suddenly there was a light, unmistakable pressure on my neck. I sobered instantly.
"You know, we've looked for you everywhere, bitch."
I smirked a little. "Well, you've got me now. What'd you tell the poor son of a bitch anyway?"
"Oh, the usual. You can help us take down demons. Help stop the bad in the world."
I heard two others appear behind me, each grabbing an arm and directing me back into a seat with a shove. Luke waited calmly as they disarmed me before beginning, "So this is how this is gonna go, you're going to tell us where your brother is."
"And what are you gonna do with me if I don't? Kill me? Send me back to Naomi?"
Luke grinned. "Oh no. We got a real special seat for you in Heaven."
"Seat?"
"Heaven's lockbox. A place for you to watch the apocalypse unfold. Or, you know, watch your brothers kill each other."
"Good luck with that."
"We'll see." He leaned nearer to me. "Where are they?"
"Who?" I asked, the perfect picture of innocence.
Luke smiled, a little too sweetly. I didn't see the blade flash, until I felt it, ripping a gash on my cheek and flickering momentarily with a faint silver light. I felt the trickle of blood run down my neck. "Where are your brothers?"
"Go screw yourself."
Another cut, this time my ribs, and then he punched me, multiple times. I heard my nose crack, and I hissed in agony. My face was swelling fast, so I sagged, panting. Luke grabbed my hair, yanking my head upwards to study my bloody physique.
I growled, "Screw you."
Another hit, this time to my ribs, and I drew a ragged gasp, feeling them crack. Another blow, and I felt some break. White hot pain lanced through me, making my stomach roil unpleasantly.
"Castiel did warn you, that the moment you became useless, we would kill you."
"And what?" I spat blood. "Send me back to Heaven? Buddy, I'm not scared of dying."
He smiled, his eyes glinting malignantly. "Oh, don't worry." He leaned closer. "Because you're not gonna die. You thought what your brother told you about Hell was bad? It doesn't even compare to the tortures that await you in Heaven."
"Naomi?" I spat once more. "She doesn't scare me either."
"I don't mean her. She's our specialist. She wipes the minds. We don't want to wipe yours. We want you to talk. We want you to suffer for what you've done."
I smiled, running my tongue over my copper tasting teeth. "Good luck with that."
He rammed the blade into my forearm and I let out another shriek. I doubled over with unspeakable pain.
"We'll let you think about it for a while." He gestured to the others and they moved off, leaving me alone, gasping in pain, my eyes streaming.
I thought about praying, but Cass was MIA and God, too for all I knew. Dean and Sam had no clue where I was. The only person that could get me out of this was me.
I blinked the tears from my eyes and shook the stray hairs out of my face. Some of them stubbornly stuck to the blood, but as long as I could see, I looked around. We were no longer in a motel room, maybe we never had been. We were in a warehouse storage unit. The place smelled of rubber, and I caught the faint whirr of machinery in a room nearby. The door to my right was probably locked, and no doubt guarded by those two angel mooks. I looked up and to my left. There was a fan slowly rotating, blowing cool fresh air into the stifling room. One of the grates over the fan had fallen, the cheap bolts probably having rusted and crumbled. It was just big enough for a body to slip through, but the fins on the fan looked dangerously sharp even moving slowly.
I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I closed my right hand over the handle of the angel blade, still buried deep into the wood of the chair and my arm. I felt a bout of nausea start to take over, but I swallowed it down. I took another deep breath, biting down onto the collar of my leather jacket. Then I pulled.
A groan was torn from my lips, but I didn't stop, even as that groan became a low guttural scream. Finally, it was out. I let the collar go, panting, trying to regain my composure and feeling dizzy. My hunter training kicked in, and I forced myself to blink the moisture from my eyes. I reached into my inner jacket pocket, producing a handkerchief and tying it tightly over my arm with shaking hands, sucking shallow huffs through clenched teeth. I used a bit of my grace to speed up the healing or at least dull the pain enough to keep me conscious and moving.
I glanced at the door, but nobody had joined me. I stood slowly, clutching my injured arm to my chest and putting one foot in front of the other until I stood below the fan, stopping only once to scoop my discarded satchel from the ground and the journal with my grandfather's name which I tucked into my bag. There was a corroded maintenance ladder propped up nearby and I moved it carefully and quietly into place. Climbing was a near impossible feat, but I managed. I squeezed my body into the small opening, pausing on the ledge as I heard a squeaking noise behind me. I heard an exclamation of surprise and then a, "Stop her!"
I looked down, through the blades. It was dark, but I could hear the sound of running water and saw its gleaming surface in the reflection of the flood lights. I did pray this time, throwing my body through the opening, feeling the wind from the fan brush my boot as I did.
* * * * * * *
The water was slow and warm and surprisingly deep. I spluttered, breaching the surface, gasping at the pain that reignited when I made impact with the water. I cursed a few times, treading water for a second to take a look around. I could see nothing with the dark and the water dripping in my eyes, but I knew that the angels would be here any second. I closed my eyes, drawing up every ounce of grace I could, even stopping all healing processes.
When I woke again, I was coughing, expelling blood and water from my lungs. I was soaked through, and my body felt feverish. "Kenzie!" I heard a familiar voice cry. I groaned in reply.
I felt the car swerve and jerk to a stop. I felt the door being opened and my head, which had previously been leaning against it, now lolled. I heard Dean muttering, "Oh God, oh God. What happened?"
"Angels." I coughed again, pressing my good hand to my ribcage. "They didn't follow me."
"Oh God." He fondled my head, I knew, marking every injury he saw. "I don't care if they followed you!" He carefully undid the soaked makeshift bandage on my arm and muttered, "Sonuvabitch. God, I think you need a hospital."
"I'll be alright." I murmured weakly.
"Yeah, sure." I felt him wrap a fresh handkerchief over my arm. "Apply pressure to it, alright? Can you do that?"
"Yeah."
I did as he asked, not finding the strength to complain that at the speed he was going, hitting every bump in the road, I would have every rib broken by the time we got to the hospital.
* * * * * * *
"What did you tell the doctors anyways?" I asked, plucking at the gauze around my chest. My left arm was filled with stitches and currently in a sling. I had healed what I could, repairing bone and muscle, leaving the more superficial stuff to the doctors.
"That you had been mugged."
I laughed weakly. "Mugged? By who? Charles Manson?"
"Hey, they bought it."
"Well, you are a convincing liar, Dean-o."
Dean nodded and it was silent for a few minutes before he began quietly, "So, are you going to tell me what happened?"
"With the angels? I told you, they tricked me, and they tortured me, they were looking for you and Sam."
"No, I mean, about why you left?"
My face fell, and I looked out the window, watching the trees whir by. Finally, I said, "Look, Dean. I know you think I'll end up like Sam, but this is different. This is Cass' grace in me, not some random demon's blood. I'll be alright. You don't see me going berserk, do you?"
"No, but―"
"Dean."
"Fine. But the second it becomes a problem, you shut it down. For good, and you don't open it back up, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir, loud and clear."
He shot me a look for the 'sir,' but I simply responded with my customary response of sticking my tongue out.
He shook his head. "Dude, you gotta stop that, you're twenty-two."
"Sam's twenty-five and he hasn't stopped being a whiny bitch yet."
Dean smirked a little, consenting.
We fell silent again for a time. Finally, I dragged myself out of my dark thoughts and decided to share them with my brother. "Hey, Dean."
"Yeah."
I swallowed. "I think it's best if we keep our distance. I mean, you, me, and Sam."
Dean stared at me long enough that I took his jaw and forced it back to face the highway.
"The bad guys are just gonna use our relationship to their advantage," I continued. "You know that. We've all got angels on our ass, and if they get one of us, they know they can get the others."
Dean's knuckles were white. Finally, he spoke, "I guess you're right."
I smiled faintly, wryly. I gripped the strap of my satchel. "I'll be seeing you then."
Dean glanced over at me, his voice rather tight. "Yeah."
And then I was gone.
* * * * * * *
"Thank God." I exclaimed, dropping face first onto my pillow and hoping against hope I could get at least a good three hours in before I got a call for another case. I'd been going non-stop for the past month. A vamp nest, three salt and burns, a ghost possession, and a shifter.
As I was drifting off, I did a mental check list in my head, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I salted the door and window. I had my knife hilt clutched tightly in my right hand. There was a pistol loaded with silver bullets on the bedside table. Yep. I was set.
Until I heard the flutter of wings.
"Hello, MacKenzie."
I groaned. "Castiel, you son of a bitch, leave me alone."
"I need your help."
I placed the pillow over my head. "You can need me in the morning."
"It's midday."
"Exactly."
I heard him draw a deep breath. "I have a lead on where God is."
I sat up, halfway, leaning on my elbows. Rubbing my tired face, I asked, "What?"
He touched two fingers to my forehead.
As I was still clearing my vision, I heard a, "Dammit, Cass, I said leave her out of this."
"Dean, we need all the help we can get."
Dean threw his hands up and then placed them back on the steering wheel to concentrate on driving once more.
"Don't worry, Dean. I'm leaving just as soon as this is over."
I glanced out the window of the backseat, (Cass was riding shotgun) but I didn't recognize where we were.
"So we're headed where to do what exactly?"
"To Maine. To trap Raphael."
"The archangel?"
"No, the teenage mutant ninja turtle." Dean remarked.
I made a face. "Not funny, Dean. We've hunted weirder."
He inclined his head in agreement.
I realized he was wearing a suit. "Should I change?" I asked him.
"Probably."
I sighed heavily, but at the next stop for gas I changed into my FED threads.
When we arrived in the town of Waterville, Dean parked us on a street corner, and we clambered out of the Impala.
"And we're here why?" My brother asked.
"A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel."
I blinked. "And he still has eyes?"
Dean shook his head. "All right, what's the plan?"
"We'll...tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is."
Mine and Dean's eyebrows shot up.
"You're serious? You're gonna to walk in there and tell him the truth?"
Castiel seemed puzzled. "Why not?"
"Because we're humans."
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out an extra fake Fed ID, placing it inside of Cass' coat and straightening his collar. I leaned forward, pulling his tie tighter.
Dean continued. "And when humans want something really, really bad, we lie."
"Why?"
My brother deadpanned, "Because that's how you become President."
We entered the small station. I glanced around, finding nothing out of the ordinary. A few desks, some cells, no signs that we might find a clue to a major celestial being.
Dean addressed one of the officers who turned from speaking with another. "Deputy Framingham?" He and I held up our badges. "Hi. Alonzo Mosely, FBI. These are my partners, Eddie Moscone and Clarice Starling." When Castiel didn't move and continued to stare wide-eyed at the man, Dean added, "Also FBI."
I nudged Cass as inconspicuously as possible, and he suddenly seemed to get the message, pulling the badge from his coat and holding it out. Upside down.
Dean yanked it out of his hand and flipped it over.
The officer stared.
"He's new." I explained. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"
"Yeah, sure." He turned to lead us into his office. He pointed to his right ear. "Talk here, though. Hearing's all blown to hell in this one."
"That happen recently?" Dean asked.
Framingham nodded. "Yeah. Gas station. Why you're here, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
We all sat, Cass still following our lead, thankfully.
Dean cleared his throat. "You mind just, uh, running us through what happened?"
Framingham began, "A call came in. Disturbance out at the Pump and Go on Route 4."
I interrupted, "What kind of disturbance?"
"Would not have believed my eyes if I hadn't seen it myself. We're talking a riot. Full scale."
"How many?" Dean asked.
"Thirty, forty, in all-out kill-or-be-killed combat."
"Any idea what set them off?"
Cass interrupted both Dean and Framingham's answer. "It's angels and demons, probably."
I sucked a sharp breath mentally, wishing I could slap our guardian angel right then and there.
The officer stared at Cass, who continued, "They're skirmishing all over the globe."
Framingham blinked. "Come again?" He turned back to Dean and me. "What did he say?"
Dean said, "Nothing Nothing." At the same time as Cass said, "Demons. Demons."
There was a moment of silence. I smiled wryly. "Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt." My wry smile suddenly turned to an attempt at a flattering one.
The poor officer looked between us for a moment more. Finally, he said, "I guess."
I could practically feel the relief seeping from Dean's body, but that could have been my own.
"Anyway." Dean glanced at Cass before directing his attention back to the officer. "What happened next?"
"Freaking explosion, that's what. They said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, uh, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Wasn't your usual fireball. It was, um—"
"Pure white." Castiel and I stated simultaneously.
"Yeah. Gas station was leveled. Everyone was...it was just horrible. And I see this one guy, kneeling there, real focused-like, not a damn scratch on him."
"You know him?"
"Donnie Finneman. Mechanic there."
"Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?"
"Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's."
Castiel turned to me, a serious expressions till planted firmly on his face. "Saint Pete's."
I could feel Dean's weary expression through my skull as he nodded pointedly at Cass. "Thank you."
* * * * * *
"Stop throwing me those looks, Dean, it's not my fault."
"He's your angel. Keep him on a leash, would you?"
"Excuse me, my angel? Last I checked, he was your angel."
Cass was still riding shotgun as we drove to Saint Peter's Hospital. He was studying the FBI badge intently, but he must have been following our argument because he said, "I believe my official title was once the Winchester's guardian, so actually I protect all three of you."
Dean and I scoffed. "Well, Cass, you're doing a bang-up job."
He looked a little hurt, so I squeezed his shoulder. "He's kidding, Cass."
At the hospital, we found the man, Donnie, sitting in a wheelchair and completely senseless.
"I take it that's not Raphael anymore." Dean stated.
"Just an empty vessel." Castiel confirmed.
"So is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?"
"No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.
Dean looked away, and I shuddered.
The old empty house was our typical squatting grounds. Shambling, condemned, etc. Cass disappeared once we arrived, leaving me and Dean to set up camp until he returned. Dean quickly took to pacing and leafing through Dad's journal.
I sat at the table, my feet propped on top of it as I carved patterns into the wood with my silver knife.
"Give me that." I gestured to Dad's journal.
Dean paused. "Why?"
I shrugged. "I dunno, you're just a hog with it, and I never get to see it."
He yanked it closer. "Get your own."
I stuck my tongue out.
There was the flap of wings as Cass landed behind us. I turned, recognizing the earthen jar he held.
"Where've you been?" Dean demanded.
"Jerusalem."
Dean blanked. "Oh, how was it?"
"Arid." Cass placed the jar on the table in front of me.
"What is that?"
"It's oil. It's very special. Very rare."
"Holy oil." I nodded. Maybe I could snag a little that we didn't use. My supplies were empty.
Cass sat beside of me as Dean derided him, "Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?"'
"No."
"So this ritual of yours, when does it got to go down?"
"Sunrise."
I drew a deep breath as the flutter of anticipation danced in my stomach.
Dean nodded once. "Tell me something. You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy but isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?"
"No, it's harder."
"Do we have any chance of surviving this?"
"You two do." He avoided my eyes.
I lifted my chin, suddenly realizing that he was lying for Dean's sake. Cass must really think he needs my help, or he never would have lied to Dean about that. I pressed my lips together tightly.
Dean nodded, a little wistfully. "So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?"
Castiel sighed contently. "I just thought I'd sit here quietly."
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Come on, anything? Booze, women?"
Cass squirmed, his face flushing slightly.
"You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?"
Cass rubbed the back his neck.
"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"
"I've never had occasion, okay?"
"All right. Dean grabbed his jacket. "Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."
My mouth dropped. "Dean!"
He turned back to me. "What?"
"You are not taking the angel to a brothel." Another thought occurred to me, and I added, "And what about me?"
He shrugged. "Stay here and do nerdy stuff. You know, like, read some porn."
"I don't own porn!"
"Then read." He turned, stopping at the door to add, "It's basically the same thing for you, isn't it?" he winked and disappeared around the corner with a, "Cass! Come on!"
* * * * * *
What if this was to be my last night on earth, too? I knew if I died and went to Heaven I'd be hunted down and tortured. Then I shook my head. I'd had plenty of potential 'last nights.' Hell, I had them every day! Why should tonight be any different?
That being said, I called Sam, just to see if he would answer, but his phone had been disconnected. Then I leaned back in a flowery, molding recliner and pulled my pocket edition of The Lord of the Rings from my jacket. It wasn't long before I was fast asleep.
* * * * * *
I hadn't intended to ask how their little trip went, but I was enlightened of the events nonetheless.
"You told her what?" I demanded of Cass, still breathless with laughter.
"I said it wasn't her fault her father left." He frowned. "I don't understand what is so funny about that."
I shook my head. "Don't worry about it, man." I smiled at him. My smile faltered when I glanced at my watch. "Nearly time." I reported.
Cass transported me and himself into Donnie's hospital room, while Dean stuck with the option of sneaking in the hard way. Cass poured the oil while I closed the shades and Dean slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
"When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames, or he dies." Castiel explained, more for Dean's benefit than my own.
"Okay, so we trap him in a steel cage of holy fire, but one question. How the hell do we get him here?"
"Very simple. There's, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial." Cass leaned over and whispered into the vessel's ear in Enochian. I strained to listen, memorizing the words. He pulled back, muttering, "I'm here, Raphael. Come and get me, you little bastard."
"Just out of curiosity, what is the average customer wait time to speak to an archangel?" Dean inquired.
"Be ready." Our angel warned, lighting a match and dropping onto the oil.
* * * * * * *
We waited. All day.
When Raphael was a no show, we returned to the old house.
As we entered, Cass said, "Dean, MacK, wait."
The room was filled with a bright light, illuminating Raphael's wings against the wall. I squinted, my eyes even hurting at the sight of an archangel, especially since I could see his true form aside from the vessel, Donnie. The lightbulbs shattered above us, and I flinched.
"Castiel." Raphael's deep voice resonated throughout the room. The whites of his vessel's eyes shone in the now dark room.
"Raphael." Cass remarked.
We took a few steps closer.
Dean jeered, "And I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out the room."
The archangel smiled a little cruelly. "And the Eastern Seaboard." Lightning flashed outside. "It is a testament to my unending mercy that I don't smite you here and now."
Dean countered, "Or maybe you're full of crap. Maybe you're afraid God will bring Cass back to life again and smite you and your candy-ass skirt. By the way, hi, I'm Dean. Oh, and just consider yourself lucky that we can't kill you, because I assure you, you will pay for what your cronies did to my sister."
"I know who you are. And now, thanks to him, I know where you are. As to your sister, those are Michael's orders."
Castiel straightened. "You won't kill them. You wouldn't dare."
"But I will take them to Michael." His eyes flicked to me.
I lifted my chin defiantly, glaring down the bridge of my nose.
"Well then. Sounds terrifying. It does." Dean grabbed a beer from the cooler and opened it as he spoke. "But, uh, hate to tell you, we're not going anywhere with you." He took a gulp.
"Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer?"
"Yeah, that was, that was hilarious."
Raphael smirked. "Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination."
"Yeah?" Dean's eyebrows rose. "I bet you didn't imagine one thing."
"What?"
"We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch."
Cass dropped his lighter onto the circle of holy oil surrounding Raphael. Anger flashed in the archangel's eyes.
I remembered our earlier conversation.
"He'll know we're planning a trap." Castiel explained.
Dean frowned. "Then he won't show."
Cass nodded. "Exactly."
I grinned suddenly. "But he'll hunt us down because of you." And me.
"Yes."
"Don't look at me," Dean told the utterly pissed archangel now glaring daggers our way, "It was his idea."
Cass threw him a look before facing Raphael and demanding, "Where is He?"
"God? Didn't you hear? He's dead, Castiel. Dead."
I sucked a sharp breath. "No."
Raphael looked to me. "But there's no other explanation. He's gone for good."
"You're lying." Castiel growled.
The archangel lifted his chin. "Am I? Do you remember the twentieth century? Think the twenty-first is going any better? Do you think God would have let any of that happen if He were alive?"
"Oh yeah?" Dean smirked. "Well then who invented the Chinese basket trick?"
Raphael was unamused. "Careful. That's my father you're talking about, boy."
"Yeah, who would be so proud to know His sons started the frigging apocalypse."
"Who ran off and disappeared," Raphael retorted. "Who left no instructions and a world to run."
Dean's wry grin grew a little wider. "Daddy ran away and disappeared. He didn't happen to work for the post office, did He?"
I didn't think Raphael's face could grow any darker. "This is funny to you? You're living in a godless universe."
"And? What, you and the other kids just decided to throw an apocalypse while he was gone?"
Raphael's voice was low and weary as he spoke. "We're tired. We just want it to be over. We just want...paradise."
"So, what, God dies and makes you the boss and you decide you can do whatever you want?"
"Yes. And whatever we want, we get!"
The windows burst in, and I ducked as we were covered in shattered glass. We were soon soaked through with icy rain.
Castiel spoke over the commotion. "If God is dead, why have I returned? Who brought me back?"
The archangel gave a skull-like grin. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?"
Cass paused. "No."
"Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up."
Cass turned, speaking to my brother and me. "Let's go."
"Castiel, I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you."
"Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch." Cass left.
Dean started to do so, only pausing to add, "What he said."
I turned to follow them out, only to be called back when Raphael said, "MacK."
I stopped, clenching my fists. "Yes?"
"You know that when we find you, your life will become very unpleasant."
I turned to him with a smirk. "I get the threats. I know you want to watch me suffer because I helped an angel fall, and I'm gonna fulfill my destiny, and you know it. So, my life already is very unpleasant. But at least I have one."
As we drove, I leaned my head against the glass, pretending to sleep, while really I was speaking silently with Castiel. Cass, you could've easily done that without my help. Why did you want me here?
Cass was mute for a moment. Your brother needs you and Sam. I can't find Sam though, so you'll have to do.
I scoffed mentally. Thanks. But when I thought about, I realized Cass might be right. My brother would be better off with me there to see the warning signs. I had more experience with the angels.
"You okay?" I heard Dean ask Cass. Our angel didn't answer, so I prodded him mentally.
Come on, Cassie. You may worry about Dean, but he's worried about you, too. So am I.
Dean continued. "Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers." I squeezed my eyes shut tighter than before.
That seemed to jolt Cass out of his thoughts. "What do you mean?"
"I mean there were times when we were looking for our dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cass, what do you believe?"
"I believe He's out there."
"Good. Then go find Him."
Castiel paused before asking, "What about you?"
"What about me? I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am, I'm really good."
"Even without your brother?"
I stiffened, hoping I didn't show it because I knew Dean would glance into the rearview mirror to make sure I was really out before answering.
"Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. And you know, MacK's leaving ASAP. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam and MacK in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy."
I heard the flutter of wings, knowing Cass must have left. It didn't matter because I could feel the pain tearing my heart the same way a werewolf might. I bit my lip, and squeezed my eyes to fight off the burn behind them.
Dean doesn't mean it, I whispered silently, wishing I believed myself.
* * * * * *
I left Dean sleeping as I slipped out.
My grandfather's journal was tucked carefully into my satchel along with some safety precautions and the ingredients I would need.
We had passed an ancient storage building on the way into town, and I knew I would get absolutely zero rest until I confirmed all the suspicions rolling around in my head. I headed there now, easily picking the lock and slipping into a fairly empty room.
I poured the ring of holy oil, actually not all that certain how this was going to work. I had summoned an angel before, of course. (We had literally done so less than forty-eight hours ago.) But I didn't have the vessel, which was always a bonus but not necessary.
I slid my silver knife over my arm, cutting just deep enough that the blood would drip into the bowl of myrrh, holy water, and lamb's blood. I muttered the incantation, and then stepped back, wrapping a handkerchief around my arm and pulling my sleeve back down.
Nothing happened.
No flickering lights. No shaking. No Enochian whispers. Nothing.
I cursed in frustration, but remembered the other spell we'd used to summon Cass with way back when Dean first popped out of Hell. It had been a while before he'd shown. Maybe I just had to wait it out.
I sat on an old crate, pulling my grandfather's journal out and flipping it open. I placed my chin in my hands and started to read.
There wasn't much to report. Nothing ever showed, much to my disappointment, even as the sun started streaming through the dingy windows. My grandfather's journal was filled with all sorts of things, most of it being in some kind of code I couldn't crack. There were some new interesting spells in Latin and Enochian that I had never seen before, some that might come in handy at a later date.
I closed the journal with a heavy sigh. There wasn't much to gather. Nothing that Emma hadn't already told me about our family at least.
I gathered my supplies, dumping the ingredients into a rusty sink and rinsing my bowl out before putting it away. I checked my watch. Seven forty-five. Dean would be up soon. He slept later when we were off a case, but that didn't mean he woke late.
"Morning, princess." I greeted Dean with a pat to his foot. He was up, dressed, with his shoes already laced.
"Where have you been?"
I held up the greasy paper bag and coffee cups. "Breakfast."
I handed him a cup and a biscuit and then sat down on the opposite bed to eat.
Dean placed the biscuit on the bed beside him, and as I took a bite, I looked up. "You gonna eat that?" I asked around the bacon grease.
He took a deep breath, his eyes hard. "You've been gone since at least four forty-five, and you haven't answered your damn phone."
I swallowed hard, feeling fury churning in my stomach. I thought I might be sick. "What's that matter? You said it yourself that you're gonna be happier the sooner I'm outta the way. I figured you'd be more disappointed when you saw me walk back through the door just now."
Dean looked down, his shoulders tense. "I called Sam. We're gonna meet him."
I stared, my mouth gaping as realization dawned on me. "What changed your mind?"
He seemed a little uncomfortable. "Satan."
I blinked. "Come again?"
"I saw the future. In a dream. Zachariah, um, he showed me what was going to happen if Sam said yes, and I didn't."
"Yes? Yes to what?"
It was dumb, because I already knew.
"Lucifer."
I stiffened. "Dean, did you tell him yes?"
"No. No, I didn't and he nearly killed me, again. Cass saved me."
My eyebrows shot up. "You've had a busy morning," I replied a touch cynically.
Dean's eyebrows rose as well. "Yeah? And what about yours? You never answered me."
I clenched my jaw. "I was thinking." Then I added with a sneer, "At least I didn't take the Impala."
Dean stood, obviously signifying the end of the conversation. He gathered up his things and shoved them into his duffel. "Yeah, that's a good thing because if you'd have stolen her―" he turned to give me a meaningful look.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I wouldn't have angels to worry about anymore because you would have killed me. I get the gist."
* * * * * *
I watched as the car pulled up to where we were parked on the old dirt road, and my giant of a brother got out.
"Sam." Dean addressed him, pulling out the demon knife and handing it to our brother. "If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty." Sam took the knife, looking down. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be. But I was, uh—wrong."
"So was I," I added. "Sorry, Sammy."
"What made you change your mind?"
Dean scoffed a little laugh. "Long story." The point is...maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."
I shifted my shoulders, feeling a little too uncomfortable with his last phrase. I knew he was really talking about Sam and himself, but I got the feeling it was kind of meant for me, too.
"Thank you. Really. Thank you. I won't let you down."
"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet."
"Me being the first of course." I added with a gentle grin.
Dean jostled me slightly.
Sam smiled faintly. "So, what do we do now?"
"We make our own future."
I lifted my chin, nodding.
Sam pressed his lips together. "Guess we have no choice."