Chapter Text
Light. And heat. And pain.
So much pain.
A sun gone nuclear hot. Star stuff – spread across the universe like so many tiny diamonds, all hurtling inward.
Hammers, jackhammers, sledge hammers and...
...a bee?
The cat blinked, staring dumbly. The chubby bumblebee stared back with faceted jewel eyes, buzzing curiously.
“All part of God's plan,” the bee mused at last, in the static-y way of insects. It buzzed off to nose around a fragrant daffodil, furry legs flecked with yellow pollen.
A shudder rippled through the cat's body, sending dark fur standing on end. Slowly, painfully, he managed to rise to all fours, feeling weirdly warm and nauseous. Nerve impulses going outward to muscle. Senses receiving, transmitting.
Assess the situation.
Grass underfoot, and blue sky overhead.
Was this a park? It was quiet, but for a mild breeze blowing through the trees, and a distant low rumble he couldn't identify.
There were stone obelisks erected at regular points around the area. He made his way towards one. A person's name had been carved into one side, but it was not a name he knew. There was another obelisk beside it, bearing another name. It occurred to him that most cats couldn't read, but he dismissed the thought.
The rumbling had grown louder. The cat cocked his ears for a moment, but still couldn't place the noise. It was akin to the sound of distant thunder, but the day was clear. The sky overhead was blue as a cornflower, dotted with white cotton clouds. Somewhere, birds sang in the trees. Butterflies flitted nearby, and he could sense the humming of angleworms writhing in the ground below his paws. Gardens were sacred places.
Suddenly, a figure hurtled towards him. “C'mon, Cas! We gotta get outta here,” the other cat urged. It was a small calico, kinked tail, one ear askew, like he'd been in a fight or two.
The first cat tilted his head curiously as the calico romped off, and then, when he realized Cas wasn't following him, hurried back, crooked tail hiked up. “Cas! Did you hear me? I know you been through a lot today, chum, but you need to move it.”
Instead the first cat – Cas? - stood rooted to the spot. “What is a Cas? Am I a Cas?” The distant rumbling was growing louder, so he attempted to make his thoughts loud, that they would be heard.
The other cat communicated frustration. “Geez, did you get knocked in the head? Yeah, you're Cas, kiddo.”
“And who might you be?” thought Cas, who was watching as a particularly colorful butterfly flitted away.
The rumbling grew louder. And louder still.
Eyes the color of sunlight through a glass of whiskey scanned around nervously. “Look, this ain't the time for fancy intros. You can call me Buddy.”
“Buddy?”
“Cas, c'mon! Quit fucking around! We gotta go, kid.”
“Go where?”
As if in answer, the rumbling abruptly shot up by several decibels. Cas's ebony-black fur stood on end, and he whirled around to behold a hideous machine come charging around a tall hedge, bringing chaos and destruction as it tore along the grounds.
“Follow me!” yelled Buddy, who bounded off once again. This time Cas hastened along after him. The two cats rushed across the grass as the horrible machine's long line of circular blades ripped and sliced at the ground, the motor giving off an ungodly rattle and roar, dark smoke and acrid smell hissing from the tailpipe.
Buddy sped towards a massive tree and began scrambling upward the great trunk, swiftly disappearing into the thick foliage overhead. Cas halted at the base, hesitating for an instant. Was it really possible to ascend this great object? But the monster machine roared nearer, and at last he hurled himself up, his claws clinging desperately to the ancient bark.
He scrambled up to the lowest array of branches, but didn't see Buddy the calico, so he continued upwards. At last, he spied another cat – a tabby – perched out on a stout branch, switching his tail, scowling down at the machine and the man who sat astride it.
Treading carefully, using his tail for balance, Cas sidled out to nestle down beside the tabby cat. Oddly enough, Cas found he liked this high perch, up high, gazing down on the grounds below – somehow it felt familiar.
The machine rumbled on towards the tree, and for a moment Cas was afraid it would run right into it! But at the last minute, the contraption lurched and clattered away from them, leaving raw furrows in the ground in its wake.
“That is the groundskeeper,” supplied the tabby, his voice prim. “He does not much care for our kind”
“He doesn't?”
“No. The only thing he detests more than cats are the gophers. And who can blame him for that? Loathsome creatures.”
Cas considered this. He wasn't certain whether he knew of any gophers, nor why any would disfavor them.
“Are you new to these grounds, my brother?” the tabby inquired.
“I.... I think so,” Cas told him.
The tabby's tail switched, a precise little gesture. “You do not know? That is passing strange.”
“I don't remember.” Cas craned his neck, peering up among the branches. “I was with Buddy just now. He appeared to know more about me. Did you see him? He must have passed by.”
The tabby blinked cool amber eyes. “I do not know of any … Buddy. I am Thoth. Is it your intent to remain here?”
This caused Cas to quit scanning the branches for Buddy and stop and think for a bit. Was he planning on staying? In truth, he didn't know where else to go right now. He didn't really remember a whole lot before finding himself on the lawn, staring at a bumble bee. “I suppose I should stay here for now, in this park,” he said, more to himself than to Thoth.
“'Tis not a park. And if you would stay, you must first meet the Queen. Darkness approaches. Come.” And with that Thoth slipped off the branch and climbed down the tree. Cas glanced around once more, searching around for any sign of Buddy, but then at last decided to follow Thoth. The rumbling sound had at last retreated into the distance. Cas hoped that the terrible machine was now very far away.
Thoth awaited on the ground beneath the tree, and together the two made their way down a well-tended dirt pathway towards a clearing, where stood a small house. Beyond the house was a fence, and there was a gateway nearby, leading to a small parking lot.
Some green trash bins were pushed up in back of the house, and a group of cats gathered around. There were also a couple of large raccoons stationed on either side of the bins. There was a small part of Cas that recoiled from the raccoons, in fear of them, but he stared at them curiously as Thoth went over to converse with them.
A large pure white cat leapt gracefully to the top of one of the bins and sat down, curled in on herself, switching her tail and observing her court below. She seemed a fraction too large and lanky to be a cat, and had arresting almond-shaped eyes. “Are all assembled?” she inquired, her thoughts registering in low and mellifluous tones.
“Yes, your Majesty!” came several enthusiastic replies.
“Who do we serve?” she asked.
“We serve the goddess Nephthys,” came a chorus.
“What is our charge?” she asked.
“We guard the gates.” And then, as the shadows lengthened, the assembled launched into a chant.
Ascend and descend.
Descend with Nephthys.
Sink into the darkness with the night-bark.
Ascend and descend...
Cas found that the Queen was staring straight at him with those arresting eyes. He felt himself floating, mind and heart. He found he was no longer in the garden, but rather somewhere in an underground palace, long, long ago. The air smelled of strong, spicy incense. Ibises walked the floor, white wings and long legs.
A winged woman sitting on a jeweled throne stared at him. He approached her, walking on two legs, in the form of a man. But he was not a man.
And she was not a woman.
There was a rumble. The ibises scattered.
Cas blinked, returned to the garden. In the distance, there was the sound of a vehicle arriving in the parking lot beyond the wall, tires rattling, engine purring.
“Now we feast,” said the Queen. At that, the raccoons gave a shove to the trash bin beside her, knocking it over. The cover popped off as the bin toppled over, and garbage bags bulged out. With a few slashes they were burst open, and a bounty of table scraps spilled the ground. The cats gathered around, pulling morsels from the pile.
Thoth the tabby cat was beside Cas once again. “Will you eat, brother?” he asked Cas.
But Cas suddenly felt a different kind of hunger, drawn, as a moth to a flame, towards what was happening out in the parking lot. Forsaking the scraps of chicken and tuna spread on the groundskeeper's back yard, he approached the wall and leapt up to the top. A sleek, black car was now parked in the lot outside. Two men – one tall, the other taller – had just emerged from the front of the little house. They walked back towards the car.
Cas stared. He knew one of the men! Or rather, he knew his soul, for it was burning bright, even in the form of a man.
But how? And where? Had it been in that ancient city in his vision, with the winged woman?
Curious to see what had gone on, Cas leapt from the fence and trotted around the side of the house, leaping up to a windowsill to peer inside. The groundskeeper was in his living room, holding a bottle full of an honey-colored liquid and a stack of much-thumbed magazines in his brawny hands. He sat down on a worn upholstered chair, opened the bottle, and poured the liquid into a small, squat glass. After drinking deep and refilling the glass, he grabbed one of the magazines off the stack and began to flip through it. Cas craned his neck to peer at the pages. They were images of human women who appeared to be grimacing in pain, as all of them were standing at strange angles. All had rather larger than normal mammary glands – perhaps that was the reason they were so uncomfortable and forced to sit and stand in strange positions?
The groundskeeper's hand drifted down towards his pants. He dug underneath a prominent pot belly towards his waistband and unhooked his belt. Slowly, he undid the zipper on his fly.
Cas decided that he'd seen enough and hopped off the sill. He glimpsed the two men out in the parking lot, closing the car's trunk. Hoisting shovels over their shoulders, they began walking through the gate into the park, and then down the pathway. Cas followed after them. They were speaking softly with one another, but he couldn't quite catch the conversation, as the wind carried it away. They walked further into the park, along a winding path, through many rows of the odd stone monoliths.
“Help!”
It was a soft, high sound, barely drifting by on the shifting breeze, but it was clear as a bell to Cas. He watched the men, now disappearing as they walked behind a hedgerow.
“Help!” came the cry again, more desperate now. “Please help!”
With a last glance at the retreating backs of the men, Cas ran towards the cry, hastening past many stone markers, and around some bushes, to the back of a great tree. He came upon a round, furry creature about his own size standing amid the roots. There was also a smaller one who had apparently got his head stuck fast inside a jar.
“Are you all right?” asked Cas.
The larger creature turned nearsighted eyes towards him. “Can you help us, Master Cat? My son Bertram was trying to lick the peanut butter out of the jar and has gotten stuck fast!”
Young Bertram bonked his glass-covered head on a tree trunk and fell over. From overhead, up in the tree, Cas heard a sigh of disgust.
He looked upwards. Thoth was perched in the tree up overhead, shaking his head and switching his tail. “He is a fool, Cas.”
“He requires help,” said Cas. “Can you help us?”
“Cats do not mix with gophers,” Thoth told him. “We are servants of the Queen.”
“But he's in trouble!” The little gopher had righted itself, and now bonked into Cas, nearly knocking him over.
“Hmpf,” sniffed Thoth.
“Can you help?” asked Cas. “I'm not sure what to do. Maybe the raccoons-”
“If you assist him, it will be your undoing!” And then he rose and disappeared into the tree's lush foliage.
“Can you help us, Sir Cat?” asked the father gopher. “Alas my claws are too weak.”
“Let me give it a try,” Cas told him, putting a paw on Bertram, who was still lurching around. Cas took a deep breath, and then clamped his jaws around the little gopher's furry neck. Bertram squealed inside the jar, and his father gasped. Then Cas wedged his back feet against the rim of the jar and pushed with all his strength. He gritted his teeth, and, as Bertram wailed, felt the jar began to nudge.
Pop!
Suddenly the jar slipped off, sending both the baby gopher and Cas rolling together on the ground.
The little gopher blinked in surprise, and his father rushed over to him. “Bertram! Bertram, you're all right! Bertram, my son!”
Cas too got to his cat feet and attempted to shake off the dirt and small twigs that had gotten stuck in his fur.
“Sir Cat, we are grateful,” said the father, who now bowed before Cas. He pushed a paw on his son's head, and the small gopher bowed as well.
“Oh, uh, it's nothing. Really. And my name is Cas, not Sir Cat.”
“I am Mortimer. You carry the gratitude of my people, the gophers. If ever you need a hole dug, or a burrow fashioned, do not hesitate to contact us, Sir Cas.”
“Um, you're welcome, Mortimer,” said Cas, who decided not to further correct the creatures. He nodded, and then took off towards where he'd last seen the men from the black car.
He found them not far from where he had last seen them, in a part of the grounds where the monument stones showed a great amount of wear.
Cas felt his skin prickle. A graveyard! He was in a graveyard – the realization overwhelmed and terrified him for some reason. Why hadn't he known this? And why had he come here? He thought of going in search of Buddy, but then the men spoke.
“We need to hurry, Dean,” the taller man was saying. He was holding a very old book with fragile, browned pages.
From down in a hole, Dean paused, leaning on his shovel. “Sammy, we gave him a fifth of good whiskey and enough porn for a month. That groundskeeper ain't goin' anywhere tonight.”
Cas crept nearer. He hopped up onto one of the gravestones to eavesdrop. Dean. He knew this man. Where did he know him? Why did he not remember?
“We need to get back,” Sam muttered in his man voice. “You heard her – that entity tends to strike at night.”
“You mean the cute blonde?” laughed Dean. His laugh was warm and genuine.
“I didn't notice if she was cute,” Sam muttered into the book.
“You totally noticed she was cute.”
“Dean, we need to get this done.”
“You wanna take a shift, loverboy?” asked Dean. But just then, his shovel came down on something hard. “Yahtzee!” he cried.
Sam set the book aside and, grabbing a crowbar, jumped down into the hole Dean had dug. Cas hopped down to the ground to get a closer look, but suddenly stopped. His fur stood on end. He realized with a start he was now walking directly over a grave.
The grave of a very dangerous entity.
Cas stood, silent and afraid, his mind whirling, heart beating. Sam climbed out of the grave they had been digging and retrieved a bag of salt. Salt. The men had salt, and lighter fluid - the makings of a fire. The men were purifying a body.
The men were purifying the wrong body.
Dean climbed out of the grave, wiping an arm across his muddy forehead. Cas leapt to his shoulder. The wrong grave, he told Dean, thinking as hard as he could. You have exhumed the wrong grave!
Dean turned his head and glanced at Cas, smile lining his features. “Well, hey there!” he said with a grin. “Hey, Sammy, look! I got a friend!”
“Thought you were allergic,” grunted Sam, pouring salt into the grave.
Wrong grave! Cas thought, concentrating with all his might.
In response, Dean grinned and scratched him on the head.
Desperately, Cas redoubled his efforts. He poked his nose directly into Dean's ear and shouted, That is the wrong body!
Dean grabbed Cas by the neck. “Hey, buddy, not on first date!” he laughed, gently tossing Cas to the ground as Sam squirted lighter fluid into the grave.
Cas stood staring, greatly vexed. These impudent humans – why wouldn't they listen?
Thoth loped into view. “Castiel! It is time!” he exclaimed, and then bounded away.
Cas spared one last terribly annoyed glance at the idiotic humans, and then followed Thoth to wherever he was going. It definitely couldn't be more frustrating. “Humans!” he exclaimed to Thoth. “Why don't they listen?”
“They never listen to cats,” sighed Thoth. “Not after that incident with Lady Bast. You don't want to get on her bad side.”
“Lady Bast?” asked Cas. The cats wound around a hedge to the back part of the cemetery, which was illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. There were more elaborate grave sites here – above-ground tombs wrought from carved marble, some quite intricate.
A few of the cats Cas had seen gathered around earlier in the groundskeeper's back yard were now clustered around one of the sites. The memorial was a detailed rendition of a weeping woman who had thrown herself across the tomb in her grief. “This is a bad one,” Thoth whispered. “He is restless tonight. Be aware!”
Cas was going to ask what was going on, but it soon became clear. The air crackled, and with a faint whiff of ozone, the spirit of a man appeared, standing about halfway out of the carved marble, as if he was wading in his tomb. Cas's fur stood up, and several of the cats who were nearby hissed in warning.
The ghost struck out at the nearest cat, knocking it away with a yowl. The other cats rushed near as the spirit strode out of the tomb, his eyes wild. “Where is Caroline?” he demanded. “I want Caroline.”
Some of the cats hissed and spat at him, but he kicked one aside and, with a brush of his hand, tossed away another. “Caroline!” he called. “Caroline!”
“Where is Caroline?” Cas asked Thoth.
“He murdered her,” was the answer. A chill ran down Cas's spine. Thoth charged forward, and the ghost seized him. He held Thoth up, shaking him. “Caroline! Give me Caroline!” Thoth gagged.
The ghost began to walk further, but Cas stepped into his path. “Put him down,” he said quietly.
“Caroline!” The ghost had Thoth by the throat, and the old cat choked.
“Let's go,” urged one of the other cats. “Brother, we must flee! He's gotten too strong.”
Cas stayed rooted to the spot. In a voice low and dangerous, he said, “Put him down. Now.”
“Get out of my way.”
The ghost stepped forward.
Cas opened his mouth.
And then he roared.
And he was not Cas. He was something of stars and light. He was large. And winged. And ancient.
The ghost halted. It dropped Thoth, who rolled, spitting, on the ground.
“Go,” whispered Cas, and his whisper was louder and larger and more glorious than an earthquake.
The tomb split, cracked right through the middle, the sculpture of the weeping woman toppled over, her face now towards the sky.
The ghost roiled and sizzled, and was gone.
And Cas was … he was just Cas once again. Just a cat. He shook his head, slightly dazed.
Thoth hobbled up to him. “I thank you, brother.”
“What just happened?” asked Cas.
The other cats glanced at each other nervously. “I believe.... I think we should get you to the Queen,” Thoth proposed.
“I need to check on Dean and Sam!” Cas announced, as he suddenly recollected the men digging up the wrong grave. “I need to make sure they're still all right.” And then before anyone else could get a word in, he darted off towards where he'd left the men. He ran across the trimmed lawn, over grave markers and around lush bushes and broad old trees, but pulled up short at the gravesite.
It was empty. There was a charred hole in the ground, and nothing else.
The men were gone.
“Damn!” muttered Cas. He paced back and forth, checking the grave, and then looked around when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.
Buddy! It was Buddy, the little calico who had saved him from the giant machine.
Buddy was perched on top of a grave marker, and appeared to be deep in conversation with a bewitching, brown-skinned woman.
Wait, was she actually listening to him? Cas considered this. But didn't Thoth just tell him humans didn't listen to cats?
“Buddy!” Cas called.
To his surprise, the woman turned her head. She smiled, amused, and waved at Cas.
“Cas!”
Cas turned around – Thoth had just come running up behind him. “Thoth, it's Buddy!” he said. “I found him.”
“Where?”
Cas turned back – but now Buddy and the woman had vanished. “They- They were just there!” He turned back to Thoth. “Didn't you see them?”
Thoth tilted his head in confusion. “Who was just there?”
“Buddy! The cat I told you about. He was talking to a woman.”
Thoth sniffed and arched his back. “Cats do not converse with humans. As I have told you.”
“But-”
“You have experienced a traumatic event, Cas. You shall accompany me now. We would speak with the Queen. She will know what to do.”
Cas was frustrated and confused, but wasn't certain what else to do. So he decided to accompany Thoth. Perhaps the Queen would have some answers for him? Thoth was right, it had been a full day, and perhaps he was getting confused?
To Cas's surprise, Thoth led him not towards the small house where the Queen had held court, but rather towards a rather disused looking crypt. The two cats slipped inside through a door that had been left ajar on rusting hinges. Thoth then stood silent inside the high-ceilinged hallway.
“We cannot speak to humans, then?” Cas asked Thoth.
“We can speak to humans.”
“But you just said-”
“We may speak. But they will not listen,” sniffed Thoth. “It was the will of Lady Bast.”
“We are in service to Lady Bast?”
“We are in service to Lady Nephthys of the Ennead of the Heliopolis, Excellent Goddess, Lord of the Underworld.”
“That is quite a mouthful.”
Thoth's fur ruffled. “Are you disrespecting Our Lady?”
“Why should I respect her?” Cas inquired.
“Why indeed?” came a familiar, mellifluous voice. Cas hadn't heard the Queen approaching them. She sidled up, sizing up Cas with those arresting eyes.
“My Lady,” said Thoth, bowing to her.
“Leave us,” the Queen bid him. He hesitated, but bowed his head once again and, with a glare at Cas, took his leave. She stared at Cas for a while. He remained still. He wondered if he would once again see a vision of the throne room with the winged lady, but instead he remained standing just where he was.
Finally, she said, “What are you?”
“A cat,” he answered, too quickly. “Um, I believe.”
She stared longer. “You are a cat,” she said, “but not a cat.”
“Does everyone in this place speak in riddles?” said Cas, the annoyance creeping into his voice.
“Where did you come from? Thoth tells me you do not remember.”
“I don't remember. Buddy seemed to know.”
She blinked. “Buddy. I do not have a servant of that name.”
“I just saw him. He was talking to a woman.”
“Cats do not speak to humans.”
Cas huffed in annoyance. “Well, since I'm not a cat, maybe Buddy isn't either.”
He expected her to contradict him, but instead she said, “That is possible.” Cas was going to reply, but noticed that the raccoons had come into the crypt, carrying some strange objects in their deft hands. “I would like to try something,” she said. “Perhaps we will be able to determine something about your past.”
The raccoons set out the objects. There was an old pocket watch that tick-tick-ticked when a raccoon wound it up. And then there was a large glass object that resembled a very big light bulb on a stand. A raccoon fiddled with the switch in the back, and the object lit up, with small streaks of static electricity inside. Cas stared at it – it was fascinating.
“Yes, good,” said the Queen. “Stare inside, and harken to my voice. What do you see?” The raccoons shunted aside, and Cas sat down in front of the lights, watching them fizzle, listening to the steady tick-tick-tick of the pocket watch. It seemed there was something inside the lights. He leaned forward, towards the lights.
She was inside, sitting on her throne.
Her wings gave an annoyed flap. “You must be desperate to come to me, Castiel.”
He approached, striding towards her on two legs. “My father – his wrath is great this time.”
“Mm-hm. He has his moods.” She shifted on the throne, curling up a bare, brown leg.
“You do not seem concerned.”
“Bah.” She waved a hand. “The One God is a passing fad.”
Cas – Castiel – arched up his wings.
“You don't believe me, Castiel. Your Father is like Ptah and his ilk. He will away, in his time, and we will return.”
“I am not so certain.”
She stood, giving a lazy flap of her glorious hawk wings. “What do you wish?”
“As I have said, Lady, He wishes to take every firstborn child.”
She huffed. “And you think to dissuade him? Or you have given up, and that is why you come, entreating me?”
Castiel's own wings drooped in frustration. They were lush and black-feathered. “I would protect them. Do you have a way? They are your people. Your children.”
“They were my children. Before this idiot craze for the One God.”
He walked towards her, going down on one knee. “Please. I beseech you.”
“Castiel, don't be dramatic.” She sighed. “All right, all right. There is a blood sigil I know. If you paint it on the doorway, it may deter the angel of death.”
“Thank you, Lady.”
She grabbed his hands. “And please get up off my floor, and cease groveling.”
“You have my gratitude,” he told her as he rose.
She was near him now, looking up, a strange light in her eyes. A slim, brown hand touched his face. “How can I refuse you, when you wear this countenance?”
“I don't understand.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course not.” Now both cool hands were on his face, gently tilting his head forward. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Go safely, Castiel. My dear one.”
Castiel.
Time shifted.
Cas found himself outside a house, his fingers red with blood. He was painting a blood sigil on a door. He felt nervous, looking over his shoulder. It wouldn't be long until they caught up with him. But before that, he would do what he could.
“Thank you,” came a quiet voice.
Cas turned. A woman – a girl, really, stood cradling a baby.
“I know what will happen. They say... They say the first borns. He is all that I have. Thank you.”
Cas paused. The child in her arms was so tiny, and yet so perfect.
She came forward, holding out the baby, pushing him gently into Cas's arms. He stiffened, afraid. The infant was so small, so fragile. As gently as he could, he took the child into his arms. The baby smelled wonderful. He blinked, small, knowing eyes. His Father's work, every molecule perfection!
Cas sensed something. Quickly and carefully, he handed the infant back to the girl. “Hurry! Get inside. Don't come out!” She nodded, and slipped inside the small dwelling, closing the marked door behind her.
He heard the rustle of wings behind him.
And then....
He was back inside the crypt.
Somewhere outside, tire treads rumbled over gravel.
“Cas,” said the Queen.
“Dean!” Cas exclaimed. “I must go help!” And then he was off, rushing out of the crypt, across the grounds, towards the gravesite where the two men had been digging. Dean was in danger. Cas must protect him.
He came upon Dean walking alone, toting a shovel over his shoulder and carrying a large sports bag. He was bloodied, and walked with a limp. Cas ran to catch up with him. Dean was speaking at at a rapid clip into the cell phone at his shoulder.
“I tell ya, Sammy, stay there! You heard the hot ER doctor, you got a concussion. I don't want you falling over or some dumb shit.... You did too notice she's hot! You stay the hell in bed, and we'll try to figure this out. My plan? Yeah, I got a plan. That was the wrong guy, so we'll go through the other guys until we find the right guy. That's the plan!”
Dean had arrived at the grave site from earlier in the day, and ceased speaking for a while. He dropped the shovel to the ground and looked around. His expression lacked the confidence he was trying to project with his voice. He looked towards the right grave. Cas hopped up on the gravestone. “Oh, hey, pal. You again!” said Dean with a small smile. “I'm talking to a cat!” he told the phone, and then, to Cas's utter annoyance, he turned around so his back was facing the correct grave. “I'll find it. I'll find the right one. I told you I would!”
“This is the gravesite,” Cas thought. And then he gritted his teeth and leapt.
“Ow!” yelped Dean as Cas bit his ear. He dropped the cell phone, and Cas leapt off Dean's shoulder and onto the grave. “What the hell, kitty cat?”
When he was certain Dean was looking his way, Cas jumped onto the correct grave and began to dig, ripping at the ground with his paws.
“Are you insane or something? Or....” Dean trailed off. He squatted down next to Cas, who looked up in frustration. “Or am I insane. You want me to dig here, kitty cat?”
“Yes!” Cas thought, emphasizing it with a yowl and another flurry of digging.
Dean grabbed his cell phone from the ground. “Sammy. This is important. No, nothing happened! I'm fine. But I need you to tell me everything – everything – you know about cats.” He stared at Cas and listened and nodded for a moment. “Guardians of the dead? OK, this is gonna seem insane, but I know where our guy is. What? A cat told me.” Dean pocketed the phone and grabbed his shovel. “All right, chum, we're digging here.” He spaded the ground. “And next time, be careful with the ear, OK? I been told it's one of my best features!” Cas hopped up on the gravestone as Dean began to excavate the grave.
“Cas! Castiel!” Thoth came running towards him.
“I don't have time for the Queen right now,” Cas told him.
“Help us!” cried Thoth, who was suddenly dwarfed by the angry spirit flying after him. Acting on instinct, Cas pounced, snarling at the spirit. It hovered, but another ghost then swept in from the side.
“Get down!” yelled Dean. Cas dropped to the ground as a shot burst out. Dean cocked his shotgun and fired again. “Salt rounds,” he told Cas. “It'll hold them off, but not for long. And I'm talking to a cat. God dammit!” Swearing, he put down the gun and took up the shovel again.
“We need to dig faster,” Cas told Thoth. “That body needs to be purified!”
“We haven't the right claws,” said Thoth.
“But I know who does.” Cas leapt to the top of a grave marker and howled, “Gophers! I call upon you. Gophers!”
“Oh, Lord no,” sighed Thoth. He leapt aside, howling in shock as a hole opened up right underneath him. It was Mortimer the gopher, poking his head out.
“What do you will, Sir Cas?” he asked, popping out of the hole, Bertram right behind him.
“I need you to dig,” Cas told him.
“Bertram, you get of there,” Mortimer scolded as his son poked his nose into a candy wrapper. “Your sweet tooth will be the end of you.” He turned to Cas. “What would you have us dig, Sir Cas?”
“We need to dig up that grave!” Cas said, pointing to where Dean was digging.
“It is done.” Mortimer gave a whistle, and suddenly, several little holes opened up in the grounds nearby, and a number of gophers poked out their heads.
“What's up, boss?” asked one of the gophers.
“Jesus, what is this?” asked Dean, who had stopped digging to watch. “Whack-a-mole?”
“Excavate that grave, boys, and be quick about it!” ordered Mortimer.
“Aye-aye!” said the gopher, who actually saluted. He disappeared into the ground. After a beat, the ground around the gravesite where Dean was standing began to roil and collapse.
Dean stepped back, and Cas leapt onto his shoulder. “The gophers? This is some Wind in the Willows shit right here,” he told Cas, who watched nervously as the area around the grave collapsed inwards. Several gophers scrambled out of the crater.
“Awesome!” Grabbing the crow bar, Dean stepped down on top of the coffin and began to pry the lid off. “I don't believe any of this, but I'm goin' with it,” he told Cas. Cas leapt off Dean's shoulders just in time to intercept yet another hostile spirit. It tried to push him away, but he howled and charged right into it. It fizzled and dissipated, but it left him feeling light-headed.
“Salt!” yelled Dean as he climbed out of the grave. “We gotta- Oh, uh, thank you.” He watched in disbelief as a pair of raccoons hauled a bag of rock salt over to the grave and began to pour it over the body. “I don't know how the hell I'm gonna tell this to Sam. All right now, let's- Wait!” He jumped back into the grave, and emerged holding a small gopher. “You gotta get outta there, little dude,” he told Bertram.
“Bertram, what have I told you?” his father tutted as Dean soaked the body with a bottle of lighter fluid.
“You guys need to clear out now!” Dean told the assembled crowd. “It's gonna get hot!” He struck a match and tossed it into the grave.
Cas's fur stood on end: he heard a very familiar rumbling sound.
The other animals scattered. Cas looked around to see the goundskeeper heading their way, driving that terrible machine.
“Ah, man! Don't do that! I gave you porn!” Dean protested. The machine thundered across the grounds and swept towards the grave, threatening to fill in the dirt and dampen the fire that was consuming the body.
Steeling his nerves, Cas growled and leapt onto the charging monstrosity. He scrambled up onto the groundskeeper's shoulders, preparing to bite.
The groundskeeper looked at him.
Cas paused, a paw raised to strike.
The keeper's eyes were jet black.
Crying out, Cas was knocked off, falling to the ground. Just then, one of the machine's wheels hit a gopher hole. The wheel lost traction, and the mower leaned and then finally tipped over, falling on top of the groundskeeper.
Dean ran over and scooped up Cas. “You OK, buddy? You shouldn't take risks like that, you know!”
“Demon,” Cas thought, though he knew it would make no difference. “He's a demon!”
“What?” asked Dean.
“Demon.” Cas wriggled out of Dean's arms and stood up on his shoulder. “Demon!” his mind screamed.
“Demon?” Dean whispered. “Where?”
And then Dean lurched as the groundskeeper, hobbling on a badly broken leg, whacked Dean with a shovel.
“Demon! There!” yelled Dean as Cas sighed. Dean barely rolled out of the way as the groundskeeper struck again, and then managed to get his hands on the shovel and whack the possessed man in the head.
His cell phone rang. “Not now, Sammy!” Dean said into the phone as the groundskeeper got to his feet. The groundskeeper threw a punch, and Dean blocked it, elbowing the guy in the ribs. “I'm fightin' a demon, Sammy. A demon!”
The demon lunged at Dean, who side stepped and, grabbing the shovel, managed to whack the guy in the head. “Yeah, I was fighting ghosts. That was 20 minutes ago, where have you been? Yeah, there were ghosts. And then there were cats, and groundhogs, and raccoons. We're expecting a sloth or something next!”
The groundskeeper got to his feet again, and Cas jumped on his shoulders. He placed his paws on the man's head and concentrated. A demon! Cas would smite him. He put all his effort into the magic, but something was wrong. The demon smacked him, and he went flying, crashing into a headstone.
“Dammit, that's my cat!” Dean hollered. He charged the demon, but it began to pummel him, and Dean dropped the cell phone once again. Cas tried to run towards Dean, but found he couldn't get up. He collapsed, back in a pool of something sticky. Blood, he realized.
“Dean? Dean?” came a desperate voice over the phone, which had somehow gotten turned to speaker mode. And then, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio...”
The groundskeeper abruptly ceased pummeling Dean. He stood up, his eyes wide, and then threw back his head. As the exorcism chant continued, black smoke began to pour from his mouth. It roiled up overhead, and then dissipated as the groundskeeper collapsed to the ground.
Dean picked himself up and grabbed the cell. “Thanks, Sammy! That was awesome.” He hurried over to Cas, picking him up and cradling him next to his body. “Hey, how you doing, chum? You look worse for the wear, huh. Me too, I guess.”
Cas meowed weakly.
And then his world went black.