![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
house-of-lantis.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
evilsam_spnTitle: Samuel Winchester’s Demonic Pleasure Palace (Part 3)
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
house_of_lantis
Pairings: Antichrist!Sam/Dean, Antichrist!Sam/OMC and Antichrist!Sam/OFC, Bobby Singer, New!Ruby, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Castiel, Uriel, Pamela Barnes, and the return of Anna. Special guest star Bela Talbot.
Disclaimer: Not real, not mine, all fiction.
Rating: NC-17 Gore and violence in this one – and Samuel doing most of it. Character deaths.
Summary: The Angels have a plan to hide Dean from Samuel.
A/N: Spoilers for episodes 4.6, 4.9, 4.10 and 4.18. But, the overall fic is going off canon.
*****
Part III: And Heaven Wept…
The walk to the archway seemed longer than when he first came down the stone pathway towards the black fortress. Dean had no sense of time; but he knew that whatever time he spent in Hell, days must’ve passed topside. He held the edges of his leather jacket closer around him as he followed Ruby towards the archway. Dean hated being cold and he was always so cold in Hell, shivering in the nude, never able to get warm, not even when the demons burned him with fire and acid.
“I can’t get out of here soon enough,” Dean muttered, lowly.
“Did you get a little good bye kiss from Samuel?”
“Ruby, jealousy on a girl is so ugly,” he said, snickering.
His lips tingled from the memory of Sam’s kiss; Dean closed his eyes for just a moment, relishing the way Sam tasted, remembering the feel of his hands moving on his back and caressing the back of his neck.
“So what’s the big plan, huh?” Dean said, shaking himself out of his memories. “What’s old Lucy going to do?”
“No one has seen him in a thousand millennia,” Ruby said, frowning slightly.
“What? The big boss doesn’t come up to visit the little people?”
“No,” she said, softly. “Hell has been a disordered mess for a very long time, Dean. That’s why demons like Azazel and Lilith can broker their own agendas. When Samuel came, he started to clean house and he gave Hell order again, a purpose.”
Dean scoffed. “Great. Sammy unionized Hell. Now you guys all have a license to create pain and havoc everywhere possible?”
“He gave us a Second Coming. The fallen ones – the Archangels that joined Lucifer in exile – they’re Samuel’s Generals now. He named them Archanders and divided the horde into an organized army among them.” Ruby frowned, gnawing on her bottom lip. “They all follow Samuel…”
“They all?” Dean said, sliding his eyes to her. “Not ‘we’? You thinking of pulling a coup on Sam?”
Ruby shook her head. “No—“
“You don’t count yourself as one of his followers, huh? Think you’re better than the other demons because you got a piece of Sam?” Dean said, laughing at her. He thought it was ironic that she always claimed Dean felt he was better than the lower demons, but it looked like Ruby felt the same way, too. “Pride…it’s always pride that gets us in the end, huh, Rubes?”
“He’s preparing us for war, Dean.” She said, ignoring his barbs.
Dean stopped, looking at her. “You know what I don’t get? I don’t get why you tell me this bullshit. What’s in it for you? Really. You want to serve Sam? Be a good little soldier demon? What? I don’t get you.”
She gave him a wry look. “Like that’s any surprise to me. You never gave me a chance, did you? Even when I told you that Sam was going dark side, you never believed me…not until it was too late.” He watched as she bit her lip. He was curious to know why she went against her own kind to help them. Why would she allow herself to get caught and tortured for them? He knew that she was probably hiding something; that she had her own game going. He just wasn’t sure what it was. She turned her black eyes to him and sighed. “I don’t want the earth to be another Hell. It’s bad enough that we already have one.”
“Ohhh, come on, that’s so fucking lame! Don’t tell me that you want to be saved.” He refused to believe that it was because she wanted to save humanity from Hell; that she was a different kind of demon.
“I don’t,” she said, sharply. “I know I have no place in Heaven; but earth is a luxury. Being topside with humans and inside this body – that’s the closest I’ll ever get to being free.”
Dean snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said, shrugging. “But you better believe that Samuel’s sent three Archander Generals topside and each took a hundred demons with them. And these aren’t your garden variety Pit bosses.”
Dean doesn’t know what to believe; Sam never gave him any indication that he was planning something; that he’d send Dean back topside unprotected. Shit, that’s what this was, Ruby telling him about Sam’s plans. She paused at the mouth of the archway, turning to look at him. He walked closer and stood beside her.
“What will he attack first?”
Ruby flashed her black eyes at him. “Fourteen cities are burning, Dean.”
Damn it. Fourteen cities – millions of people dead; millions of souls never finding peace. There was no way that he’d be able to warn them in time.
“How much time do I have to—“
“It’s already done.”
“Damn it! Getting me here was just a fucking distraction, wasn’t it?” Dean said, glaring at Ruby.
She gave him a wide smile. “I do what I am told to do.”
“Shit.” Dean bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. Sammy took him out of play to freak out the Angels and used the time to send up his army. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
Ruby snickered, tossing her hair off her shoulder as she walked to the archway. “Pretty much.”
He watched as she stepped through the portal. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. The step through was always tough. He held his breath and took three steps, feeling the numbness of the portal enclose him.
Coming topside was just as disorienting as stepping into Hell, but at least he wasn’t digging up through six feet of dirt this time. Dean gasped, falling to his knees, taking in lungful after lungful of clean, fresh air. He gagged on it, dry heaving hard. But his body was greedy for the air, the smell of dry grass, and the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. He swallowed down his bile and stared at the ground under him, his fingers digging into the dirt.
“Oh God, that really was unpleasant,” he said, groaning. He spit on the ground, moving to his feet. When he looked up, he saw a dozen people standing around the archway. He turned slowly, looking at the neutral expressions on the faces of the old and young, men and women, of all ethnic backgrounds. Their eyes moved over him and they all turned to stare at Ruby. Dean knew they were Angels, wearing the vessels of the faithful.
“Dean.”
He turned his head to find Castiel moving slowly towards him, stepping away from the others. “Cas. How long was I gone?”
“Almost two weeks,” he said, his voice low and brusque. He stepped in front of Dean and faced Ruby. “Return to Hell, demon.”
Ruby flashed her black eyes at him and smirked, raising her eyebrow. “Be warned, Angel, you are not prepared for what Hell has yet to send you.”
Dean sighed and shook his head, watching as she took a few steps, backing up towards the portal. “I don’t want to see you again, Ruby.”
“Feeling is mutual,” she said, sneering at him.
He watched as she disappeared through the portal. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of moisture against his skin. He looked at Castiel. “We’ve got a big problem, man.”
“That must—“
“This can’t wait,” Dean insisted, narrowing his eyes. “Sam sent three Archander Generals with 300 demons to waste fourteen cities. You think something like that can wait?”
“We have our armies fighting them; but many cities have already fallen. There are many deaths.”
“What the hell are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be out there fighting?”
“My duty is to protect you,” Castiel said, softly. “We have received the revelation of God and you are to be protected by Heaven.”
“Protected by Heaven? What does that mean?”
“It means that I am charged with hiding you from Samuel.”
Dean frowned, looking around at the other Angels. “I don’t know about that, Cas. I don’t think there’s any place on earth that you could hide me from Sam.”
“I have called in two specialists.”
He motioned two of the Angels wearing human masks towards them. Dean watched as a man who was probably in his early 20s with long surfer blond hair and baggy clothes came towards him. Beside him was a man who was probably in his 50s and could pass for the other’s father.
“The last time you called for a specialist, he tried to kill us.”
“Uriel was on the verge of falling; his beliefs are not mine, Dean.”
Dean nodded, knowing that if he had to trust an Angel, it would only be Castiel.
“This is Raphael and this is Gabriel.”
“Archangels, right?” Dean nodded to them, unfazed by Heaven’s Generals.
Dean met the Archangel Michael six months ago – who was a real douche bag for an Angel – when Dean was racing across the country to get to the Prophet Chuck before Sam’s demons could kidnap him and torture him for his visions. Michael was there, blazing sword and all, including a high-and-mighty righteousness that bordered on pride. Dean recalled that they shared some words before Michael took Chuck with him to hide him from Hell.
“Yes,” Castiel said, looking at him. “These others are our escorts. We have been waiting here for you to return to earth.”
“Yeah, about that,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Sam dragged me back to Hell to distract all of you so he could send up his demon army.”
“We need to conceal your presence, Dean, so that Samuel won’t find you again. Your bond with Samuel is very strong; he can sense you from his seat in Hell.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, we’re brothers. I don’t think you can break that bond, except maybe with death.” He frowned at Castiel. “You guys aren’t going to kill me or something, are you?”
“We know a blessing that will make you invisible to Hell,” Gabriel said, gazing at Dean.
Dean looked at the surfer kid and made a face. “Seriously? That’s the best you got? You don’t think Sam’s going to figure it out? A counter spell or something?”
“It’s more of a purification ritual. Come with us, Dean,” Castiel said, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We must try; Samuel cannot break the last seal.”
“You mean you think I’m going to get fucked by my brother.”
Castiel gave him a long look. “I have faith in you.” He paused. “But we must find a way to protect you. He cannot be allowed to take you to Hell on a whim. We do not have access to the demon world anymore and we will not be able to find you if he should take you again.”
“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean said, making a face. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation. Dean always had a sneaking suspicion that the Angels only let him run around because Sam left him alone. But now, if they were getting desperate…he didn’t know what the Angels were capable of doing – and he didn’t want to find out.
“It is the only way.” Castiel looked at him. “You must trust me, Dean.”
“You ask a lot, man,” Dean said, softly.
Castiel sighed, nodding. “I know. And I trust that you will make the right choice.”
He met Castiel’s eyes and nodded slowly. “All right. I trust you—“
And in a blink:
Dean found himself standing inside a non-descript warehouse.
“Damn it, Cas, a little warning next time!” Dean groused, bending over and gagging, his hands propped on his knees. He spit on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I thought you might be used to that by now,” Castiel said, a small smile on his lips. Dean gave him the finger.
He dug his hand into an inner pocket in his leather jacket, searching for anything that would help take the taste out of his mouth. His fingers found an old M&M – hey, a green one – and Dean stuck it in his mouth, tasting stale chocolate. It was better than nothing.
“Dean!”
He turned to see Bobby and Ellen in the warehouse. He walked quickly towards them and hugged them, breathing in their familiar scents, and feeling his body relax for the first time in a long time.
“It’s good to see you, boy,” Bobby said, pounding Dean on his back with a meaty hand.
“We were getting worried that Samuel wouldn’t let you come back,” she told him, running her hand over his head.
“He used my disappearance to distract everyone; sent his demons topside,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows. He looked around the warehouse. “Where’s Jo?”
“She’s replenishing our supplies,” Ellen told him. “One of the Angels went with her.”
“You think that was a good idea to let her out alone?”
Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “She is protected, Dean.”
***
Sam enjoyed being topside, scenting blood in the air as his demon army turned cities to burning bricks. A part of him wished he could go out with his horde and quench his bloodlust, slash his way through humanity, tasting nothing but pain and fear. He wished it was like in the old days.
Those days would come. But for now, he just wanted to play.
He chuckled, walking slowly around the young woman hogged tied and gagged on the dirty floor of the shack. Her blue eyes glared up at him, a bruise blossoming on her right cheek under the gag.
“Joanna Beth Harvelle. You make a pretty sight. I really missed you.” He grinned at his two demon soldiers. “Now this is a very special gift, boys.”
“Thought you might like her all nice and fresh,” Oliver said, snickering. “We didn’t touch her; left her for you.”
“Hmm,” Sam murmured, approvingly. He flicked his eyes over at Oliver, wearing the body of a pale blond with blue eyes framed by long lashes. Oliver was one of his favorite soldiers. He followed directions to the letter and always wanted Sam’s favor.
“And the Angel is just cherry on top,” Tomas said, throwing the handsome young man on the floor beside Jo. “Can we start by tearing off his wings?”
He looked over at the dark haired youth – the meat suit probably wasn’t even eighteen yet – and gave him a measuring grin. He’d give both of them a well deserved reward when he was finished here.
“You, stay put,” Sam said, pointing at Jo. “You can watch the show.”
He ignored Jo’s muffled angry sounds, turning to gaze at the Angel inside the body of the young man. He moved to his knee, bending to touch the face of the Angel. “Is it vanity that makes you choose only the beautiful meat suits to wear when you’re here, Angel?”
“We only take on the vessels of the faithful.” The Angel said, narrowing his green eyes at Oliver and Tomas. “Unlike the demons who take with force.”
“What’s your name?” Sam said softly, using the same tone that he once used to disarm people; a show of dimples as a friendly gesture. He knew the Angel wouldn’t be fooled, but it was a game that they played.
“Albiel.”
“Albiel.” Sam grinned, gripping Albiel’s chin and turning his face so that Sam could look his fill. He was lovely; so pure and untouched. “You’re a servant of Michael’s.”
“Yes.”
“And now you will become my pet,” Sam said, stroking the Angel’s hair.
“Never!” The Angel spat at him; Sam merely chuckled.
“Never can be very long and painful,” he said, standing up. He motioned for Oliver and Tomas to pull Albiel to his feet. “Have you ever felt pain…or pleasure? It can make all the choirs of Heaven sing.” Sam moved closer towards the Angel, running his fingers down the soft cheek. “The body that you wear is capable of feeling the most intense pain…and the most intense pleasure. Pleasure with pain can be an erotic experience.”
Sam watched as Oliver and Tomas tore off the Angel’s jacket and shirt, throwing the shredded fabrics on the floor. Tomas tied the Angel’s wrists with thick rope and tossed it to Oliver who threw it over the rafter, jerking down hard so that Albeil’s arms were stretched above him, forcing the slight young man to balance on his tiptoes. Oliver anchored the rope and walked closer to the Angel, dark eyes reflecting his lust and cruelty. They were ready for bloodshed and screams and pleasure, dancing around Albiel and looking at Sam, sneers on their faces.
Sam sighed longingly, looking over the pale and unmarked skin of the young man’s body. He placed his hand on his chest, splaying out of his fingers. The body was so young and so fragile. He leaned closer, whispering in the Angel’s ear. “I can give you both.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Samuel,” Albiel said, gazing steadily at him.
“Great.” Sam said, cheerfully as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small carving knife. He wiped it against the sleeve of his shirt, admiring the acid etched swirls covering the silver blade. He pressed the cold blade against the Angel’s face. Sam smiled, letting his eyes fade to an opaque white. “I just want to hear you…sing.”
“Come on, Samuel, let’s play,” Oliver said, his reedy voice verging on whining.
“Let’s hear our pretty little brother sing,” Tomas husked, stepping close against Albiel and licking up the underside of the Angel’s arm. “He tastes fresh. Fresh meat.”
Sam traced the tip of the knife gently down the Angel’s chest. “In history, the first account of flaying was by the Assyrians. They would capture an enemy and flay him alive and then nail his skin to the wall of the city as a warning to all who would defy their power.” He circled the tip around the pale pink nipple, licking his lips. “But it was in Medieval Europe that flaying took on an art form.”
He deliberately pressed the tip into the center of the nipple, watching a bead of blood bloom quickly under the blade.
“Quisquis meus viscus quod imbibo meus cruor eternus vita, quod ego mos erigo sursum procul permaneo. Pro meus viscus est verus victus quod meus cruor est verus imbibo." Sam quoted, smirking. “It’s probably not a good interpretation, but I like to think that it fits the situation.”
“Slice him open, Samuel,” Tomas called, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “Let’s eat of his flesh and drink of his blood.”
Sam looked at Albiel and stepped closer, placing his hand behind the Angel’s neck. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the Angel’s lips. He dragged the sharp edge of the blade down the Angel’s chest. He grinned into the kiss, feeling the gasp of pain against his lips.
He pulled away, his eyes moving down to look at the long red line down Albiel’s body. He slipped the tip of the blade under the cut, edging it under the translucence of the skin and pulling it forward with the flat part of the blade. He watched Albiel as his fingers grabbed the blood slick skin and smiled as he pulled the length of skin from chest to stomach, ripping it free.
Albiel screamed, throwing back his head. It was the sound of disbelief mixed with utter suffering.
“Yeah!” Oliver hooted, ducking his head around the Angel. He pressed his tongue along the exposed layer of blood and muscle, moving up and up with a hunger that made Sam’s cock harden. Half of Oliver’s face was covered with blood as Tomas pulled him away, lapping at the blood on his cheek.
Sam watched as Albiel choked on the pain, his eyes wet with tears. The Angel whimpered, trying to twist away. Sam lifted the strip of bloody skin and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. Skin really didn’t have a taste and Sam already knew the flavor of blood. “Flesh of my flesh.”
“Blasphemer!”
Sam smirked, dropping the rest of the skin on the floor, falling in the pool of blood by his feet. “Sing for me again, Albiel.”
***
Dean paced the warehouse, checking his watch. He could see the lines of worry on Ellen’s face as she listened to the short wave radio chatter; worried for humanity, worried for her daughter. Bobby kept his hands busy by cleaning the weapons at the table. Dean walked towards Castiel. “They’ve been gone for too long for a supply run.”
Castiel looked at Dean and nodded his understanding.
“We’ve lost several large cities, fires and burning,” Ellen said, softly. “Demons have taken over people’s bodies.”
“We must do the ritual now,” Raphael said, walking towards Dean. “We do not have any more time.”
Dean took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I know. All right.”
“We’ll help,” Bobby said, setting his rag down.
“No human can witness the purification,” Gabriel told them.
Dean sighed. “You guys are going to do that Angelic teleport thing, aren’t you?”
The three Angels touched Dean’s chest and shoulder:
And Dean coughed, wobbling against the Angels as he felt the dizziness pass. “Still not used to it.” He looked around the new location – some no name field that stretched on for miles, nothing but a dark horizon surrounding them.
“You must remove everything that you are wearing,” Castiel said, softly.
“Why you sly thing, aren’t you going to even take me on a date first?”
Castiel grinned slightly. “Perhaps afterwards.”
“Yeah, I knew you just wanted to see my hot ass.”
Dean snickered, shrugging out of his clothes, toed off his boots and socks. He undressed mechanically, pulling off his pendant and his rings, putting them in his jacket pocket.
“All right, now what?”
“A purification bath,” Raphael said, holding a jar of water. He poured slowly down Dean’s back, inhaling sharply when the water began to sizzle on his skin.
Dean hissed in pain, gritting his teeth. “Holy water?”
“You are tainted by Hell,” Gabriel said, looking Dean over.
“Is there something you would like to tell me?” Castiel said, stepping closer to Dean. “Is it too late?”
“What happened to having faith in me, Cas?” Dean quirked his eyebrow and shook his head. “It’s not too late.” He hissed again as Raphael continued to pour holy water all over him, soaking him completely until he wasn’t sizzling off the holy water.
Gabriel held out a glass for Dean. “Drink it.”
Dean took the glass, knowing that the holy water would probably burn right through him. He was tainted from kissing Sam; he knew that the Angels suspected that Dean’s visit with Sam wasn’t strictly brotherly.
Now or never. Dean threw back the holy water, dropping to his knees as the water burned inside of him. He let out a scream, steam that tasted like blood pouring from his mouth. Dean gagged, shuddering and gasping, choking on his own saliva. His eyes watered from the pain – and in his soul, he was back in Hell and on his knees in the Pit, screaming and throwing up blood as his mouth and insides melted from the acid that the demons fed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling on his cheeks, his body remembering only the pain and the cold.
Castiel knelt in front of Dean. “I am here with you, Dean.”
Dean panted, sitting back on his knees. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to catch his breath. “I’m all right.”
“Step into the circle and kneel.”
Dean stepped carefully and then moved down to his knees, fists on his thighs. He looked at Castiel, waiting for the next part. The three Angels stood outside of the circle at three points, facing Dean. They closed their eyes, hands out at their sides, palms facing heaven and chanting softly; Dean didn’t recognize the language, but it sounded old – ancient.
Dean wasn’t the type to pray, but he wondered if maybe he could have a couple of words with the guy upstairs. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, hoping that this blessing would work. If Sam couldn’t get to him, then maybe Dean wouldn’t be tempted to help Sam break that last seal. But he asked for only one thing: that he wouldn’t be the one to kill his own brother. More than once, Dean couldn’t pull the trigger on Sammy; he’d never be able to kill his brother. Anything but that, he prayed. The Angels stopped chanting and Dean opened his eyes, looking up at Castiel.
Dean flinched and made a face as Raphael held a knife in his hand. Castiel held a cheap mug, cracked and dirty. One by one, the Angels cut their arms and dribbled their blood into the mug.
“Blood rites?”
Castiel waved his hand for Dean to stand up. He passed the mug to Dean. “The blood carries our essence.”
Dean looked at the dark blood in the mug. “I’m going to drink the essence of Angels?”
“Drink, Dean.” Gabriel intoned, looking at him.
“Blech,” Dean grumbled, taking a mouthful of blood and swallowing quickly. He made a face at what felt like melted pennies. Seriously, how the hell did vampires do this all the time? “Uh…that’s nasty.”
And then he felt it.
Warmth…all through him. He closed his eyes, dropping the mug on the grass. He let out an uninhibited moan, feeling the sensation of pleasure and heat shoot through him. He sank to his knees again, hands curled in the grass and fingers digging into the dirt. He let out another loud groan, wanting to curl up against the grass. He was so warm – finally warm. It felt like he was enclosed in a heated blanket, covering him from inside out.
“Cas…Castiel, what’s happening to me?”
Dean trembled, moaning again. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed and head falling against his shoulder.
“You’ve taken in the grace of Angels, Dean, freely given and freely taken.” Castiel said, softly.
So much warmth, like he was touching the sun with his very soul.
“Grace?”
And love, like it was mainlined right through his veins.
“Oh God! I can feel it!”
Dean felt the light touch him, blinding him. Blinding him with so much love and light, burning the taint of Hell from him.
“Oh…” Sammy…Sammy…
Dean fell on his side on the grass, curling his arms and legs up. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of flying…up…and up…
***
“NO!”
The wave of anger smashes from him in a tidal wave that erupts across the audience hall, burning through all the demons and souls. Their screams echoed with Sam’s howl. In just a moment, he felt the loss so sharply, as if a limb was cut from his body.
“Dean! Dean!”
What did they do to his brother?
Sam stared out at demons crying out for mercy. He stood up, wiping the tears from his cheeks, looking at them.
“FIND HIM!”
Find him. Bring him back. Bring him back.
***
With a deep breath, Dean opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. A faint light filtered into the small bedroom. He sighed, feeling the soft bed under him. He felt…he didn’t have nightmares; he slept deeply, without worrying that if he closed his eyes he was back in Hell. Angel essence…damn, that was a rush. He turned his head on the pillow and cracked a grin at the blonde sitting in the chair near the bed.
“Hey, Jo.”
“Dean,” she said, her voice hoarse and leaning forward. “How do you feel?”
“Weird…but in a good way,” he said, looking at her. He frowned, seeing the darkening bruise on her cheek. “Where are we?”
“It’s a safehouse that Castiel set up for us,” she said, rubbing her hands on her knees. “Bobby and mom are downstairs. You’ve been asleep for three days.”
“I feel like I’ve gotten more rest in the last three days than in the last thirty years of my life,” he told her, frowning slightly. “What happened to you?”
Jo bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Samuel’s demons captured us while Albiel and I were on a supply run.” She flicked reddened eyes at him. “I watched them tear Albiel apart. I watched an Angel die, Dean, and it was Samuel who killed him.”
Dean fisted his hand on the quilt covering him. “Michael will be on a warpath for Sam. He won’t let something like this go; not for one of his own.” He looked over Jo, making sure she wasn’t hurt. “You okay? Did they…did he…” He couldn’t finish the question; he wouldn’t be able to handle it if Sam hurt her.
She shook her head. “They let me go after they flayed Albiel alive.”
“What have I missed?” Dean said, kicking the covers off and moving so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could still feel the light inside of him.
“Samuel’s been busy with his horde. A dozen cities are gone, millions dead. We still have some electricity and running water, but that’s going to stop any day now. Survivors from the cities are running out, there’s hysteria everywhere. No one knows what’s really happened. We don’t have communication, just the short wave radios. The demons have hit worldwide. The Angels keep us updated, but we know that they’re not telling us everything. It’s war, Dean, and we’re not going to make it.”
“Come on, Jo, don’t talk like that. We can’t give up.”
“It’s Hell on earth.”
“Not while we can still fight them,” he said, getting up and looking around for his clothes. He was grateful that someone had dressed him in a tee shirt and his boxers. He grabbed his jeans, pulling them on. Jo held out his flannel shirt and he gave her a quick grin, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it. “Where’s my stuff?”
“Bobby’s cleaning your weapons cache. It’s all downstairs.”
“Come on, let’s go down, I’m starving. You guys can tell me what’s been going on and we can figure out what our next move is going to be,” Dean said, opening the door and looking out into the hallway. He looked over his shoulder to see Jo sitting in the chair, unmoving. “Hey? You with me?”
Jo looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. “We’re all going to die, Dean.”
“Are you with me?” He said, enunciating each word harshly.
She wiped her face with her hands, breathing quickly. She nodded, standing up. “Yeah. Yeah, Dean, I’m with you.”
“Good. Come on, there’s a lot of stuff that we still need to do.” He said, motioning his head for her to go through first.
Jo nodded and headed for the hallway, Dean following her. She was still too thin but she was strong; she had the strength, she just needed to tap into her reserves. He always felt that she was a sister to him, despite the crush that she had for him, and he had watched her grow as a hunter and now as a soldier. She grew into a lovely woman, but she was the same spunky girl that first caught his eye when he and Sam found the Roadhouse. He respected her, loved her even, but they both knew that he wasn’t going to be anyone that could give her what she wanted.
“Hey,” Dean said, walking into the living room.
“I was wondering when you were going to get your lazy ass out of bed,” Bobby said, grinning up at him. “Some of us have been working.”
“Yeah? Show me what you got so far.”
“Dean.”
He turned to see Castiel standing in the hallway.
“The demons are out in full force searching for you,” Castiel told him. “Samuel can’t sense your presence now.”
“This is the time that we can strike back, Cas. If Sam can’t sense me, then that means that we’ve finally got an advantage and I don’t want to hide, I want to go out there and help. We can use the element of surprise.”
“It is too great of a risk.”
“Come on, you all know I’m right,” Dean insisted, looking around at Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. “We have to take back what we can, inch by inch.”
“Not when they are all looking for you.”
“Cas, listen, I can’t just sit here in this safehouse – not when there are people dying out there—“
“What is it that you think you can do, Dean?”
“Shit, I don’t know! But I’m not doing anything by just sitting on my ass here!”
“Okay, let’s all just think this through before we make any goddamn idiotic plans to run out there guns blazing,” Bobby said, taking off his ball cap and rubbing the top of his balding head. He flipped the cap back on and gave Dean a long look. “Your brother and his demon buddies are out there looking for you. You start causing a ruckus and bringing down attention on us – it’s not just about you, boy.”
“I know that!” Dean snapped, frustration coloring his tone. He let out a deep breath and stared at the dull brown carpet. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Sometimes…I feel like this is my fault; like I could’ve done something to stop all of this.”
“You do not carry the burden alone, Dean.”
He looked at the Angel and made a face, then nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I don’t. But considering that Sam’s my brother and I could’ve stopped him…” and failed, Dean thought. Failed again and again.
“We must stay in this safe house for a few more days. Your supplies are dwindling and soon the whole world will be covered in darkness when your electricity and power stop,” Castiel said, looking over at the others. “We are waiting for the revelation of God and we will know what we need to do.”
Dean took a deep breath and chewed on his lip. “All right. Yeah, all right. I’m going to go work on the car.” He looked at Bobby. “Where’s the—“
Bobby tossed him the car keys. “Garage – out through the kitchen door.”
“Thanks.”
***
Ever since he was about ten years old, Dean’s love affair with the Impala started and never went away. He never told anyone, but he used to have dreams while he was in Hell, dreams about running the Impala down a long stretch of country road, windows down, Zeppelin coming out of the speakers, and the scent of fresh cut grass and cow shit blowing on his face. He knew more about the car than the car makers who created her. Dean had salvaged parts, made a few of them himself, and put her back together.
Dean adjusted the hanging light bulb under the opened hood of the engine and sat down on a low stool, looking at the turn signal electrical socket in his hand. He sprayed electric motor cleaner on the terminals and used his rag to start cleaning the socket of any corrosion. He hummed along with Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” as he used a small pick to clean out the rust inside the socket.
“I always hated that song.”
Dean literally jumped, dropping the pick and the socket on the floor. He looked up to see Sam, leaning against the far table, arms crossed in front of him. “Sammy.”
“In the flesh,” he said, smirking slightly. “What did they do to you?”
Dean stood up from the stool, looking at him. “How did you find me?”
Sam shrugged. “I have millions of demons at my service. I just asked them to look for you.”
Dean watched, warily, as Sam sauntered towards him, hands pushing into his pockets. He wore a small, dimpled grin as he looked at Dean through his long bangs.
“Did you really think that the Angels could hide you from me?”
PART IV: Fire and Brimstone
*****
Author:
house_of_lantis Pairings: Antichrist!Sam/Dean, Antichrist!Sam/OMC and Antichrist!Sam/OFC, Bobby Singer, New!Ruby, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Castiel, Uriel, Pamela Barnes, and the return of Anna. Special guest star Bela Talbot.
Disclaimer: Not real, not mine, all fiction.
Rating: NC-17 Gore and violence in this one – and Samuel doing most of it. Character deaths.
Summary: The Angels have a plan to hide Dean from Samuel.
A/N: Spoilers for episodes 4.6, 4.9, 4.10 and 4.18. But, the overall fic is going off canon.
*****
Part III: And Heaven Wept…
The walk to the archway seemed longer than when he first came down the stone pathway towards the black fortress. Dean had no sense of time; but he knew that whatever time he spent in Hell, days must’ve passed topside. He held the edges of his leather jacket closer around him as he followed Ruby towards the archway. Dean hated being cold and he was always so cold in Hell, shivering in the nude, never able to get warm, not even when the demons burned him with fire and acid.
“I can’t get out of here soon enough,” Dean muttered, lowly.
“Did you get a little good bye kiss from Samuel?”
“Ruby, jealousy on a girl is so ugly,” he said, snickering.
His lips tingled from the memory of Sam’s kiss; Dean closed his eyes for just a moment, relishing the way Sam tasted, remembering the feel of his hands moving on his back and caressing the back of his neck.
“So what’s the big plan, huh?” Dean said, shaking himself out of his memories. “What’s old Lucy going to do?”
“No one has seen him in a thousand millennia,” Ruby said, frowning slightly.
“What? The big boss doesn’t come up to visit the little people?”
“No,” she said, softly. “Hell has been a disordered mess for a very long time, Dean. That’s why demons like Azazel and Lilith can broker their own agendas. When Samuel came, he started to clean house and he gave Hell order again, a purpose.”
Dean scoffed. “Great. Sammy unionized Hell. Now you guys all have a license to create pain and havoc everywhere possible?”
“He gave us a Second Coming. The fallen ones – the Archangels that joined Lucifer in exile – they’re Samuel’s Generals now. He named them Archanders and divided the horde into an organized army among them.” Ruby frowned, gnawing on her bottom lip. “They all follow Samuel…”
“They all?” Dean said, sliding his eyes to her. “Not ‘we’? You thinking of pulling a coup on Sam?”
Ruby shook her head. “No—“
“You don’t count yourself as one of his followers, huh? Think you’re better than the other demons because you got a piece of Sam?” Dean said, laughing at her. He thought it was ironic that she always claimed Dean felt he was better than the lower demons, but it looked like Ruby felt the same way, too. “Pride…it’s always pride that gets us in the end, huh, Rubes?”
“He’s preparing us for war, Dean.” She said, ignoring his barbs.
Dean stopped, looking at her. “You know what I don’t get? I don’t get why you tell me this bullshit. What’s in it for you? Really. You want to serve Sam? Be a good little soldier demon? What? I don’t get you.”
She gave him a wry look. “Like that’s any surprise to me. You never gave me a chance, did you? Even when I told you that Sam was going dark side, you never believed me…not until it was too late.” He watched as she bit her lip. He was curious to know why she went against her own kind to help them. Why would she allow herself to get caught and tortured for them? He knew that she was probably hiding something; that she had her own game going. He just wasn’t sure what it was. She turned her black eyes to him and sighed. “I don’t want the earth to be another Hell. It’s bad enough that we already have one.”
“Ohhh, come on, that’s so fucking lame! Don’t tell me that you want to be saved.” He refused to believe that it was because she wanted to save humanity from Hell; that she was a different kind of demon.
“I don’t,” she said, sharply. “I know I have no place in Heaven; but earth is a luxury. Being topside with humans and inside this body – that’s the closest I’ll ever get to being free.”
Dean snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said, shrugging. “But you better believe that Samuel’s sent three Archander Generals topside and each took a hundred demons with them. And these aren’t your garden variety Pit bosses.”
Dean doesn’t know what to believe; Sam never gave him any indication that he was planning something; that he’d send Dean back topside unprotected. Shit, that’s what this was, Ruby telling him about Sam’s plans. She paused at the mouth of the archway, turning to look at him. He walked closer and stood beside her.
“What will he attack first?”
Ruby flashed her black eyes at him. “Fourteen cities are burning, Dean.”
Damn it. Fourteen cities – millions of people dead; millions of souls never finding peace. There was no way that he’d be able to warn them in time.
“How much time do I have to—“
“It’s already done.”
“Damn it! Getting me here was just a fucking distraction, wasn’t it?” Dean said, glaring at Ruby.
She gave him a wide smile. “I do what I am told to do.”
“Shit.” Dean bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. Sammy took him out of play to freak out the Angels and used the time to send up his army. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
Ruby snickered, tossing her hair off her shoulder as she walked to the archway. “Pretty much.”
He watched as she stepped through the portal. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. The step through was always tough. He held his breath and took three steps, feeling the numbness of the portal enclose him.
Coming topside was just as disorienting as stepping into Hell, but at least he wasn’t digging up through six feet of dirt this time. Dean gasped, falling to his knees, taking in lungful after lungful of clean, fresh air. He gagged on it, dry heaving hard. But his body was greedy for the air, the smell of dry grass, and the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. He swallowed down his bile and stared at the ground under him, his fingers digging into the dirt.
“Oh God, that really was unpleasant,” he said, groaning. He spit on the ground, moving to his feet. When he looked up, he saw a dozen people standing around the archway. He turned slowly, looking at the neutral expressions on the faces of the old and young, men and women, of all ethnic backgrounds. Their eyes moved over him and they all turned to stare at Ruby. Dean knew they were Angels, wearing the vessels of the faithful.
“Dean.”
He turned his head to find Castiel moving slowly towards him, stepping away from the others. “Cas. How long was I gone?”
“Almost two weeks,” he said, his voice low and brusque. He stepped in front of Dean and faced Ruby. “Return to Hell, demon.”
Ruby flashed her black eyes at him and smirked, raising her eyebrow. “Be warned, Angel, you are not prepared for what Hell has yet to send you.”
Dean sighed and shook his head, watching as she took a few steps, backing up towards the portal. “I don’t want to see you again, Ruby.”
“Feeling is mutual,” she said, sneering at him.
He watched as she disappeared through the portal. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of moisture against his skin. He looked at Castiel. “We’ve got a big problem, man.”
“That must—“
“This can’t wait,” Dean insisted, narrowing his eyes. “Sam sent three Archander Generals with 300 demons to waste fourteen cities. You think something like that can wait?”
“We have our armies fighting them; but many cities have already fallen. There are many deaths.”
“What the hell are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be out there fighting?”
“My duty is to protect you,” Castiel said, softly. “We have received the revelation of God and you are to be protected by Heaven.”
“Protected by Heaven? What does that mean?”
“It means that I am charged with hiding you from Samuel.”
Dean frowned, looking around at the other Angels. “I don’t know about that, Cas. I don’t think there’s any place on earth that you could hide me from Sam.”
“I have called in two specialists.”
He motioned two of the Angels wearing human masks towards them. Dean watched as a man who was probably in his early 20s with long surfer blond hair and baggy clothes came towards him. Beside him was a man who was probably in his 50s and could pass for the other’s father.
“The last time you called for a specialist, he tried to kill us.”
“Uriel was on the verge of falling; his beliefs are not mine, Dean.”
Dean nodded, knowing that if he had to trust an Angel, it would only be Castiel.
“This is Raphael and this is Gabriel.”
“Archangels, right?” Dean nodded to them, unfazed by Heaven’s Generals.
Dean met the Archangel Michael six months ago – who was a real douche bag for an Angel – when Dean was racing across the country to get to the Prophet Chuck before Sam’s demons could kidnap him and torture him for his visions. Michael was there, blazing sword and all, including a high-and-mighty righteousness that bordered on pride. Dean recalled that they shared some words before Michael took Chuck with him to hide him from Hell.
“Yes,” Castiel said, looking at him. “These others are our escorts. We have been waiting here for you to return to earth.”
“Yeah, about that,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Sam dragged me back to Hell to distract all of you so he could send up his demon army.”
“We need to conceal your presence, Dean, so that Samuel won’t find you again. Your bond with Samuel is very strong; he can sense you from his seat in Hell.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, we’re brothers. I don’t think you can break that bond, except maybe with death.” He frowned at Castiel. “You guys aren’t going to kill me or something, are you?”
“We know a blessing that will make you invisible to Hell,” Gabriel said, gazing at Dean.
Dean looked at the surfer kid and made a face. “Seriously? That’s the best you got? You don’t think Sam’s going to figure it out? A counter spell or something?”
“It’s more of a purification ritual. Come with us, Dean,” Castiel said, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We must try; Samuel cannot break the last seal.”
“You mean you think I’m going to get fucked by my brother.”
Castiel gave him a long look. “I have faith in you.” He paused. “But we must find a way to protect you. He cannot be allowed to take you to Hell on a whim. We do not have access to the demon world anymore and we will not be able to find you if he should take you again.”
“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean said, making a face. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation. Dean always had a sneaking suspicion that the Angels only let him run around because Sam left him alone. But now, if they were getting desperate…he didn’t know what the Angels were capable of doing – and he didn’t want to find out.
“It is the only way.” Castiel looked at him. “You must trust me, Dean.”
“You ask a lot, man,” Dean said, softly.
Castiel sighed, nodding. “I know. And I trust that you will make the right choice.”
He met Castiel’s eyes and nodded slowly. “All right. I trust you—“
And in a blink:
Dean found himself standing inside a non-descript warehouse.
“Damn it, Cas, a little warning next time!” Dean groused, bending over and gagging, his hands propped on his knees. He spit on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I thought you might be used to that by now,” Castiel said, a small smile on his lips. Dean gave him the finger.
He dug his hand into an inner pocket in his leather jacket, searching for anything that would help take the taste out of his mouth. His fingers found an old M&M – hey, a green one – and Dean stuck it in his mouth, tasting stale chocolate. It was better than nothing.
“Dean!”
He turned to see Bobby and Ellen in the warehouse. He walked quickly towards them and hugged them, breathing in their familiar scents, and feeling his body relax for the first time in a long time.
“It’s good to see you, boy,” Bobby said, pounding Dean on his back with a meaty hand.
“We were getting worried that Samuel wouldn’t let you come back,” she told him, running her hand over his head.
“He used my disappearance to distract everyone; sent his demons topside,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows. He looked around the warehouse. “Where’s Jo?”
“She’s replenishing our supplies,” Ellen told him. “One of the Angels went with her.”
“You think that was a good idea to let her out alone?”
Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “She is protected, Dean.”
***
Sam enjoyed being topside, scenting blood in the air as his demon army turned cities to burning bricks. A part of him wished he could go out with his horde and quench his bloodlust, slash his way through humanity, tasting nothing but pain and fear. He wished it was like in the old days.
Those days would come. But for now, he just wanted to play.
He chuckled, walking slowly around the young woman hogged tied and gagged on the dirty floor of the shack. Her blue eyes glared up at him, a bruise blossoming on her right cheek under the gag.
“Joanna Beth Harvelle. You make a pretty sight. I really missed you.” He grinned at his two demon soldiers. “Now this is a very special gift, boys.”
“Thought you might like her all nice and fresh,” Oliver said, snickering. “We didn’t touch her; left her for you.”
“Hmm,” Sam murmured, approvingly. He flicked his eyes over at Oliver, wearing the body of a pale blond with blue eyes framed by long lashes. Oliver was one of his favorite soldiers. He followed directions to the letter and always wanted Sam’s favor.
“And the Angel is just cherry on top,” Tomas said, throwing the handsome young man on the floor beside Jo. “Can we start by tearing off his wings?”
He looked over at the dark haired youth – the meat suit probably wasn’t even eighteen yet – and gave him a measuring grin. He’d give both of them a well deserved reward when he was finished here.
“You, stay put,” Sam said, pointing at Jo. “You can watch the show.”
He ignored Jo’s muffled angry sounds, turning to gaze at the Angel inside the body of the young man. He moved to his knee, bending to touch the face of the Angel. “Is it vanity that makes you choose only the beautiful meat suits to wear when you’re here, Angel?”
“We only take on the vessels of the faithful.” The Angel said, narrowing his green eyes at Oliver and Tomas. “Unlike the demons who take with force.”
“What’s your name?” Sam said softly, using the same tone that he once used to disarm people; a show of dimples as a friendly gesture. He knew the Angel wouldn’t be fooled, but it was a game that they played.
“Albiel.”
“Albiel.” Sam grinned, gripping Albiel’s chin and turning his face so that Sam could look his fill. He was lovely; so pure and untouched. “You’re a servant of Michael’s.”
“Yes.”
“And now you will become my pet,” Sam said, stroking the Angel’s hair.
“Never!” The Angel spat at him; Sam merely chuckled.
“Never can be very long and painful,” he said, standing up. He motioned for Oliver and Tomas to pull Albiel to his feet. “Have you ever felt pain…or pleasure? It can make all the choirs of Heaven sing.” Sam moved closer towards the Angel, running his fingers down the soft cheek. “The body that you wear is capable of feeling the most intense pain…and the most intense pleasure. Pleasure with pain can be an erotic experience.”
Sam watched as Oliver and Tomas tore off the Angel’s jacket and shirt, throwing the shredded fabrics on the floor. Tomas tied the Angel’s wrists with thick rope and tossed it to Oliver who threw it over the rafter, jerking down hard so that Albeil’s arms were stretched above him, forcing the slight young man to balance on his tiptoes. Oliver anchored the rope and walked closer to the Angel, dark eyes reflecting his lust and cruelty. They were ready for bloodshed and screams and pleasure, dancing around Albiel and looking at Sam, sneers on their faces.
Sam sighed longingly, looking over the pale and unmarked skin of the young man’s body. He placed his hand on his chest, splaying out of his fingers. The body was so young and so fragile. He leaned closer, whispering in the Angel’s ear. “I can give you both.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Samuel,” Albiel said, gazing steadily at him.
“Great.” Sam said, cheerfully as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small carving knife. He wiped it against the sleeve of his shirt, admiring the acid etched swirls covering the silver blade. He pressed the cold blade against the Angel’s face. Sam smiled, letting his eyes fade to an opaque white. “I just want to hear you…sing.”
“Come on, Samuel, let’s play,” Oliver said, his reedy voice verging on whining.
“Let’s hear our pretty little brother sing,” Tomas husked, stepping close against Albiel and licking up the underside of the Angel’s arm. “He tastes fresh. Fresh meat.”
Sam traced the tip of the knife gently down the Angel’s chest. “In history, the first account of flaying was by the Assyrians. They would capture an enemy and flay him alive and then nail his skin to the wall of the city as a warning to all who would defy their power.” He circled the tip around the pale pink nipple, licking his lips. “But it was in Medieval Europe that flaying took on an art form.”
He deliberately pressed the tip into the center of the nipple, watching a bead of blood bloom quickly under the blade.
“Quisquis meus viscus quod imbibo meus cruor eternus vita, quod ego mos erigo sursum procul permaneo. Pro meus viscus est verus victus quod meus cruor est verus imbibo." Sam quoted, smirking. “It’s probably not a good interpretation, but I like to think that it fits the situation.”
“Slice him open, Samuel,” Tomas called, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “Let’s eat of his flesh and drink of his blood.”
Sam looked at Albiel and stepped closer, placing his hand behind the Angel’s neck. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the Angel’s lips. He dragged the sharp edge of the blade down the Angel’s chest. He grinned into the kiss, feeling the gasp of pain against his lips.
He pulled away, his eyes moving down to look at the long red line down Albiel’s body. He slipped the tip of the blade under the cut, edging it under the translucence of the skin and pulling it forward with the flat part of the blade. He watched Albiel as his fingers grabbed the blood slick skin and smiled as he pulled the length of skin from chest to stomach, ripping it free.
Albiel screamed, throwing back his head. It was the sound of disbelief mixed with utter suffering.
“Yeah!” Oliver hooted, ducking his head around the Angel. He pressed his tongue along the exposed layer of blood and muscle, moving up and up with a hunger that made Sam’s cock harden. Half of Oliver’s face was covered with blood as Tomas pulled him away, lapping at the blood on his cheek.
Sam watched as Albiel choked on the pain, his eyes wet with tears. The Angel whimpered, trying to twist away. Sam lifted the strip of bloody skin and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. Skin really didn’t have a taste and Sam already knew the flavor of blood. “Flesh of my flesh.”
“Blasphemer!”
Sam smirked, dropping the rest of the skin on the floor, falling in the pool of blood by his feet. “Sing for me again, Albiel.”
***
Dean paced the warehouse, checking his watch. He could see the lines of worry on Ellen’s face as she listened to the short wave radio chatter; worried for humanity, worried for her daughter. Bobby kept his hands busy by cleaning the weapons at the table. Dean walked towards Castiel. “They’ve been gone for too long for a supply run.”
Castiel looked at Dean and nodded his understanding.
“We’ve lost several large cities, fires and burning,” Ellen said, softly. “Demons have taken over people’s bodies.”
“We must do the ritual now,” Raphael said, walking towards Dean. “We do not have any more time.”
Dean took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I know. All right.”
“We’ll help,” Bobby said, setting his rag down.
“No human can witness the purification,” Gabriel told them.
Dean sighed. “You guys are going to do that Angelic teleport thing, aren’t you?”
The three Angels touched Dean’s chest and shoulder:
And Dean coughed, wobbling against the Angels as he felt the dizziness pass. “Still not used to it.” He looked around the new location – some no name field that stretched on for miles, nothing but a dark horizon surrounding them.
“You must remove everything that you are wearing,” Castiel said, softly.
“Why you sly thing, aren’t you going to even take me on a date first?”
Castiel grinned slightly. “Perhaps afterwards.”
“Yeah, I knew you just wanted to see my hot ass.”
Dean snickered, shrugging out of his clothes, toed off his boots and socks. He undressed mechanically, pulling off his pendant and his rings, putting them in his jacket pocket.
“All right, now what?”
“A purification bath,” Raphael said, holding a jar of water. He poured slowly down Dean’s back, inhaling sharply when the water began to sizzle on his skin.
Dean hissed in pain, gritting his teeth. “Holy water?”
“You are tainted by Hell,” Gabriel said, looking Dean over.
“Is there something you would like to tell me?” Castiel said, stepping closer to Dean. “Is it too late?”
“What happened to having faith in me, Cas?” Dean quirked his eyebrow and shook his head. “It’s not too late.” He hissed again as Raphael continued to pour holy water all over him, soaking him completely until he wasn’t sizzling off the holy water.
Gabriel held out a glass for Dean. “Drink it.”
Dean took the glass, knowing that the holy water would probably burn right through him. He was tainted from kissing Sam; he knew that the Angels suspected that Dean’s visit with Sam wasn’t strictly brotherly.
Now or never. Dean threw back the holy water, dropping to his knees as the water burned inside of him. He let out a scream, steam that tasted like blood pouring from his mouth. Dean gagged, shuddering and gasping, choking on his own saliva. His eyes watered from the pain – and in his soul, he was back in Hell and on his knees in the Pit, screaming and throwing up blood as his mouth and insides melted from the acid that the demons fed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling on his cheeks, his body remembering only the pain and the cold.
Castiel knelt in front of Dean. “I am here with you, Dean.”
Dean panted, sitting back on his knees. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to catch his breath. “I’m all right.”
“Step into the circle and kneel.”
Dean stepped carefully and then moved down to his knees, fists on his thighs. He looked at Castiel, waiting for the next part. The three Angels stood outside of the circle at three points, facing Dean. They closed their eyes, hands out at their sides, palms facing heaven and chanting softly; Dean didn’t recognize the language, but it sounded old – ancient.
Dean wasn’t the type to pray, but he wondered if maybe he could have a couple of words with the guy upstairs. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, hoping that this blessing would work. If Sam couldn’t get to him, then maybe Dean wouldn’t be tempted to help Sam break that last seal. But he asked for only one thing: that he wouldn’t be the one to kill his own brother. More than once, Dean couldn’t pull the trigger on Sammy; he’d never be able to kill his brother. Anything but that, he prayed. The Angels stopped chanting and Dean opened his eyes, looking up at Castiel.
Dean flinched and made a face as Raphael held a knife in his hand. Castiel held a cheap mug, cracked and dirty. One by one, the Angels cut their arms and dribbled their blood into the mug.
“Blood rites?”
Castiel waved his hand for Dean to stand up. He passed the mug to Dean. “The blood carries our essence.”
Dean looked at the dark blood in the mug. “I’m going to drink the essence of Angels?”
“Drink, Dean.” Gabriel intoned, looking at him.
“Blech,” Dean grumbled, taking a mouthful of blood and swallowing quickly. He made a face at what felt like melted pennies. Seriously, how the hell did vampires do this all the time? “Uh…that’s nasty.”
And then he felt it.
Warmth…all through him. He closed his eyes, dropping the mug on the grass. He let out an uninhibited moan, feeling the sensation of pleasure and heat shoot through him. He sank to his knees again, hands curled in the grass and fingers digging into the dirt. He let out another loud groan, wanting to curl up against the grass. He was so warm – finally warm. It felt like he was enclosed in a heated blanket, covering him from inside out.
“Cas…Castiel, what’s happening to me?”
Dean trembled, moaning again. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed and head falling against his shoulder.
“You’ve taken in the grace of Angels, Dean, freely given and freely taken.” Castiel said, softly.
So much warmth, like he was touching the sun with his very soul.
“Grace?”
And love, like it was mainlined right through his veins.
“Oh God! I can feel it!”
Dean felt the light touch him, blinding him. Blinding him with so much love and light, burning the taint of Hell from him.
“Oh…” Sammy…Sammy…
Dean fell on his side on the grass, curling his arms and legs up. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of flying…up…and up…
***
“NO!”
The wave of anger smashes from him in a tidal wave that erupts across the audience hall, burning through all the demons and souls. Their screams echoed with Sam’s howl. In just a moment, he felt the loss so sharply, as if a limb was cut from his body.
“Dean! Dean!”
What did they do to his brother?
Sam stared out at demons crying out for mercy. He stood up, wiping the tears from his cheeks, looking at them.
“FIND HIM!”
Find him. Bring him back. Bring him back.
***
With a deep breath, Dean opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. A faint light filtered into the small bedroom. He sighed, feeling the soft bed under him. He felt…he didn’t have nightmares; he slept deeply, without worrying that if he closed his eyes he was back in Hell. Angel essence…damn, that was a rush. He turned his head on the pillow and cracked a grin at the blonde sitting in the chair near the bed.
“Hey, Jo.”
“Dean,” she said, her voice hoarse and leaning forward. “How do you feel?”
“Weird…but in a good way,” he said, looking at her. He frowned, seeing the darkening bruise on her cheek. “Where are we?”
“It’s a safehouse that Castiel set up for us,” she said, rubbing her hands on her knees. “Bobby and mom are downstairs. You’ve been asleep for three days.”
“I feel like I’ve gotten more rest in the last three days than in the last thirty years of my life,” he told her, frowning slightly. “What happened to you?”
Jo bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Samuel’s demons captured us while Albiel and I were on a supply run.” She flicked reddened eyes at him. “I watched them tear Albiel apart. I watched an Angel die, Dean, and it was Samuel who killed him.”
Dean fisted his hand on the quilt covering him. “Michael will be on a warpath for Sam. He won’t let something like this go; not for one of his own.” He looked over Jo, making sure she wasn’t hurt. “You okay? Did they…did he…” He couldn’t finish the question; he wouldn’t be able to handle it if Sam hurt her.
She shook her head. “They let me go after they flayed Albiel alive.”
“What have I missed?” Dean said, kicking the covers off and moving so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could still feel the light inside of him.
“Samuel’s been busy with his horde. A dozen cities are gone, millions dead. We still have some electricity and running water, but that’s going to stop any day now. Survivors from the cities are running out, there’s hysteria everywhere. No one knows what’s really happened. We don’t have communication, just the short wave radios. The demons have hit worldwide. The Angels keep us updated, but we know that they’re not telling us everything. It’s war, Dean, and we’re not going to make it.”
“Come on, Jo, don’t talk like that. We can’t give up.”
“It’s Hell on earth.”
“Not while we can still fight them,” he said, getting up and looking around for his clothes. He was grateful that someone had dressed him in a tee shirt and his boxers. He grabbed his jeans, pulling them on. Jo held out his flannel shirt and he gave her a quick grin, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it. “Where’s my stuff?”
“Bobby’s cleaning your weapons cache. It’s all downstairs.”
“Come on, let’s go down, I’m starving. You guys can tell me what’s been going on and we can figure out what our next move is going to be,” Dean said, opening the door and looking out into the hallway. He looked over his shoulder to see Jo sitting in the chair, unmoving. “Hey? You with me?”
Jo looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. “We’re all going to die, Dean.”
“Are you with me?” He said, enunciating each word harshly.
She wiped her face with her hands, breathing quickly. She nodded, standing up. “Yeah. Yeah, Dean, I’m with you.”
“Good. Come on, there’s a lot of stuff that we still need to do.” He said, motioning his head for her to go through first.
Jo nodded and headed for the hallway, Dean following her. She was still too thin but she was strong; she had the strength, she just needed to tap into her reserves. He always felt that she was a sister to him, despite the crush that she had for him, and he had watched her grow as a hunter and now as a soldier. She grew into a lovely woman, but she was the same spunky girl that first caught his eye when he and Sam found the Roadhouse. He respected her, loved her even, but they both knew that he wasn’t going to be anyone that could give her what she wanted.
“Hey,” Dean said, walking into the living room.
“I was wondering when you were going to get your lazy ass out of bed,” Bobby said, grinning up at him. “Some of us have been working.”
“Yeah? Show me what you got so far.”
“Dean.”
He turned to see Castiel standing in the hallway.
“The demons are out in full force searching for you,” Castiel told him. “Samuel can’t sense your presence now.”
“This is the time that we can strike back, Cas. If Sam can’t sense me, then that means that we’ve finally got an advantage and I don’t want to hide, I want to go out there and help. We can use the element of surprise.”
“It is too great of a risk.”
“Come on, you all know I’m right,” Dean insisted, looking around at Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. “We have to take back what we can, inch by inch.”
“Not when they are all looking for you.”
“Cas, listen, I can’t just sit here in this safehouse – not when there are people dying out there—“
“What is it that you think you can do, Dean?”
“Shit, I don’t know! But I’m not doing anything by just sitting on my ass here!”
“Okay, let’s all just think this through before we make any goddamn idiotic plans to run out there guns blazing,” Bobby said, taking off his ball cap and rubbing the top of his balding head. He flipped the cap back on and gave Dean a long look. “Your brother and his demon buddies are out there looking for you. You start causing a ruckus and bringing down attention on us – it’s not just about you, boy.”
“I know that!” Dean snapped, frustration coloring his tone. He let out a deep breath and stared at the dull brown carpet. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Sometimes…I feel like this is my fault; like I could’ve done something to stop all of this.”
“You do not carry the burden alone, Dean.”
He looked at the Angel and made a face, then nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I don’t. But considering that Sam’s my brother and I could’ve stopped him…” and failed, Dean thought. Failed again and again.
“We must stay in this safe house for a few more days. Your supplies are dwindling and soon the whole world will be covered in darkness when your electricity and power stop,” Castiel said, looking over at the others. “We are waiting for the revelation of God and we will know what we need to do.”
Dean took a deep breath and chewed on his lip. “All right. Yeah, all right. I’m going to go work on the car.” He looked at Bobby. “Where’s the—“
Bobby tossed him the car keys. “Garage – out through the kitchen door.”
“Thanks.”
***
Ever since he was about ten years old, Dean’s love affair with the Impala started and never went away. He never told anyone, but he used to have dreams while he was in Hell, dreams about running the Impala down a long stretch of country road, windows down, Zeppelin coming out of the speakers, and the scent of fresh cut grass and cow shit blowing on his face. He knew more about the car than the car makers who created her. Dean had salvaged parts, made a few of them himself, and put her back together.
Dean adjusted the hanging light bulb under the opened hood of the engine and sat down on a low stool, looking at the turn signal electrical socket in his hand. He sprayed electric motor cleaner on the terminals and used his rag to start cleaning the socket of any corrosion. He hummed along with Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” as he used a small pick to clean out the rust inside the socket.
“I always hated that song.”
Dean literally jumped, dropping the pick and the socket on the floor. He looked up to see Sam, leaning against the far table, arms crossed in front of him. “Sammy.”
“In the flesh,” he said, smirking slightly. “What did they do to you?”
Dean stood up from the stool, looking at him. “How did you find me?”
Sam shrugged. “I have millions of demons at my service. I just asked them to look for you.”
Dean watched, warily, as Sam sauntered towards him, hands pushing into his pockets. He wore a small, dimpled grin as he looked at Dean through his long bangs.
“Did you really think that the Angels could hide you from me?”
PART IV: Fire and Brimstone
*****
no subject
Date: 2009-04-21 07:33 pm (UTC)Please don't wait to long for an update!
no subject
Date: 2009-04-21 09:24 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-04-21 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-22 03:07 am (UTC)Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-04-22 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-22 04:40 pm (UTC)Spoilery Comment Response from the Episode 4.16
Date: 2009-04-22 09:37 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-04-22 09:34 pm (UTC)As for Jo...I've always been curious as to her story and how it "ends". I don't want to just kill her off because it would be convenient. I think that's why Sam didn't kill her when his henchmen captured her and the Angel. Dean would know that Sam crossed the line with him to attack someone that was under Dean's protection, so to speak. So Sam won't be killing Bobby, Ellen or Jo off. That doesn't mean that another demon wouldn't kill them if they had the chance. Heh-heh-heh...But they would probably suffer Sam's wrath.
The way that the story goes - Sam can't be saved; Dean doesn't turn evil. It's going to be interesting to see how this will play out. Haha. Stay tuned!
Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 07:44 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 10:26 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 10:29 pm (UTC)Spoiler Comment (To Be On the Safe Side)
Date: 2009-05-04 01:34 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
Re: Spoiler Comment (To Be On the Safe Side)
Date: 2009-05-04 04:35 pm (UTC)Course, even at his worst I love Sam so I'm probably delusional! ::grin::
Re: Spoiler Comment (To Be On the Safe Side)
Date: 2009-05-04 07:36 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL
Re: Spoiler Comment (To Be On the Safe Side)
Date: 2009-05-04 08:27 pm (UTC)We'll see!
Re: Spoiler Comment (To Be On the Safe Side)
Date: 2009-05-04 08:36 pm (UTC)Regards,
HoL