Chapter Text
Michael stared down at the water, trying to remember why it wasn’t late afternoon. The heaven he knew was perpetually bright: filled with light and unchanging, like the moment before Lucifer’s fall. Yet now the pale glow of in between made the water glint like the ocean at dusk, deep and opaque and enigmatic beneath the faint sparkle of departing sun.
“I hear you’re getting married,” Lucifer’s voice said.
He looked to his right. His lost brother stood there, magnificent wings and the shadow of a vessel Michael didn’t know. He had no idea what Lucifer was doing in heaven, who he might have killed or tricked to be where he was now.
What retribution might be coming.
“Do you,” Michael said.
Lucifer didn’t look prepared for a fight. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to take my advice so literally.”
Michael considered that. Marriage was a human institution, and he couldn’t imagine what kind of metaphor Lucifer was trying to convey. Nor did he have any memory of advice, literal or otherwise.
“Thank you,” he said at last.
Lucifer stood there for a long moment, and the choir continued as it had. No alarm raised or battle joined: the devil stood within the gates of heaven and heaven didn’t blink. Michael wondered if what he perceived existed here at all.
“The children are in danger,” Lucifer said.
It made no more sense than anything else, but confusion was a sign of weakness. “We’re all in danger,” Michael said. He couldn’t tell a fallen angel that their father would protect them. He was spared that uncertainty, at least.
“Michael.” Lucifer’s voice was hidden from the host. If it hadn’t been before, it was now. Michael knew that he was the only one who heard a message so odd as to be incomprehensible. “Samael will stand with me in defense of Adamel. Our protection extends to the others if they’ll have it.”
Samael he knew. Adamel he did not. He was wary of broadcasting the name through the choir for identification, given the source. “The others,” he repeated.
“The children,” Lucifer said again. “And Jesse, not that he needs my protection.”
Jesse was the antichrist. Jesse defended Adamel. Another child of hell?
Like his father, Michael thought. Not Samael.
Sam.
“You’re not the only one who’ll stand for them,” Michael said. Sam was important, Sam had children, why couldn’t he remember. He was the first archangel of heaven and he couldn’t remember his own brother.
“No,” Lucifer agreed. “But I am the most reliable.”
His word, once given, was good. If Lucifer said he would protect the children, then the only question was what he chose to protect them from. And who the children were. Why no one else’s word was to be trusted, and how Lucifer knew without having to ask.
What Lucifer was doing in heaven.
Dean.
He knew Castiel’s voice like he knew his brother’s name: not as well as he should. But he knew with absolute certainty that he needed to know it, and that was more than anything else he had. He left Lucifer on the bridge while heaven and earth shifted around him.
The reaper took one look at him and stepped back. “Not Dean,” she said.
He didn’t care about her presence the way he cared about Castiel’s wings. The flinch that shivered through them was more light than movement. Not a wound, but something worse.
Shaken faith.
“Michael,” the angel agreed. “He still wears Death’s ring.”
He looked down at his right hand. There were two rings there and neither of them was right. Neither of them was gold. His left hand was bare.
Riders, Gabriel’s voice said.
He couldn’t tell if that was a memory or not.
“Tell him what you told me,” Castiel said. His voice sounded very tired when he added, “Please.” Which wasn’t right; an angel of heaven shouldn’t beg. Especially not this angel.
“Reapers are disappearing.” The woman was familiar, somehow. She stared at him the way reapers stared at souls they’d come to collect. “They have one thing in common,” she said. “They’ve all spoken to Dean Winchester.”
“Dean Winchester,” he repeated. His vessel.
“You,” Castiel snapped. “We don’t have time for you to be cagey, Michael. If you don’t remember, just say so. This is important.”
He raised his eyebrows, amused to see irritation flush and sparkle through another angel’s grace. “You should show me some respect,” he said.
“I pulled you out of hell,” Castiel retorted. But the thread of amusement was there too, reflected back at him, and Dean took a step closer.
“I remember that part,” he said. It wasn’t entirely true. He remembered Castiel saying it, which was close enough.
“I have to go,” Tessa said. “Find out who’s doing this and stop them.”
“That’s what we do,” Dean said. He didn’t take his eyes off of Castiel.
“I expect you to come for me if I’m taken,” Tessa told him.
Dean blinked, finally recognizing her when he turned and stared. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course. Be careful.”
The corners of her mouth curled, and she inclined her head. “Good to see you again, Dean.”
“You too,” he said. “Hey, if I have this ring, can I give you orders?”
“Did not having it ever stop you?” she countered.
“So, yeah,” Dean said. “Don’t get yourself disappeared.”
She gave him a look of fond exasperation, which was probably as close as Tessa came to rolling her eyes. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “I’d never have thought of that.”
She was gone before he looked away.
“Hey,” Dean said, because Castiel was about to say something and this might be more important. “Lucifer was on the bridge. Is that normal?”
Castiel paused, but he didn’t seem surprised. He looked like he was considering Dean more than anything Dean might have said. “It’s not a frequent occurrence,” he said at last. “Nor is it unheard of. Did she speak to you?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Told me he’d defend the children.”
Castiel nodded. “We knew this,” he agreed. “Gabriel will likely stand for them as well. She says she won’t fight, but I don’t doubt her ability to defend what she considers hers.”
That was information he didn’t have, falling into a void in his mind to outline something vast and damning. “War,” he said. “You’re talking about war.”
Castiel’s grace didn’t so much as flicker. “It’s the option of last resort.”
“War,” he repeated.
“Yes, Dean,” Castiel said. His oddly human voice was quieter than it had been. “We’re preparing for war.”
Dean studied him. They must have had this conversation a lot lately, so he tried to find a shortcut. “Tell me about the children,” he said.
“Four new angels,” Castiel replied. Too smooth, too fast for it to be anything but rehearsed. So Dean had asked this question before, too. “The choir calls them nephilim, but they’re not hybrids. They’re children of creation.”
“Who created them?” Dean asked. He figured he already knew the answer.
When Castiel looked away, Dean nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, so we’ve got kids, we’ve got us, and we’ve got a new world order. The only thing I’m missing is the problem.”
Castiel didn’t move, but it felt like he was sighing. “I think you’ve pretty much summed up the problem.”
“Lucifer’s on our side,” Dean said, and Castiel didn’t contradict him. “Who are we fighting?”
It was enough to make Castiel look at him again, at least. “I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t look as young as he should, even when he added, “I fear we have met the enemy and he is us.”
Dean thought it was a little weird that he could remember the comic strip those words came from. “Isn’t it always,” Dean said, frowning because Cas was already pushed to the limit and nothing was happening. That he could see. Yet.
What was Cas even doing on earth? He must have been here a while if a reaper had given up on finding him anywhere else. Especially Tessa, who loved to hang around the gate with –
It was the vibration of his phone that did it. He looked at his watch, but yeah, it was way past six and he’d known that without a single thought about what it meant. “Shit,” he muttered, because he wasn’t surprised and neither was Cas. Cas hadn’t even bothered to call him this time.
“We were supposed to go out,” he said. And then, because he’d been through this confession every possible way and all of them sucked, he added, “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Cas stared back at him, but his eyes crinkled the way they always did when he was about to smile and Dean figured they were okay. “Was that very hard for you to say?” he asked.
“Getting to be kind of a habit,” Dean admitted. He’d tried ignoring it, he’d tried bluffing his way through it, he’d even tried snapping at Cas for not reminding him. None of them made him feel any better and he was pretty sure they all made Cas feel worse.
“You’re remembering very quickly this time,” Castiel observed. He sounded like he was trying not to sound hopeful.
“Since I saw you,” Dean agreed. “Feel like I should get a tattoo, like that guy in Memento. ‘Find Cas,’ you know?”
Castiel frowned at him, and just as he opened his mouth to say it Dean echoed along with him, “You don’t understand that reference.
“Yeah,” Dean added, “there’s this movie where a guy gets hit on the head and he can’t remember anything that happens to him after that, so he writes himself notes to remind him of what he’s doing. He gets the important stuff tattooed on his skin.”
He heard Cas think, Memento, and someone from Gabriel’s garrison sent back a plot summary.
“I see.” The confused expression had already cleared, but Cas nodded at the elaboration. “That explains several comments Sam has made lately, then.”
Dean blinked. “Since when does Sam not have time to explain movie references to you?”
“He seems uncertain of my sincerity,” Castiel said. “I’m afraid close association with Gabriel has colored his expectation of angels.”
Dean would give him that. Which made him realize he hadn’t actually answered his phone, so he pulled it out. Missed call from Sam. Of course. He also had three texts from Cas, which he hadn’t even heard come in. Maybe Cas hadn’t decided not to remind him after all.
“Hey,” he said, lifting the phone as it rang. “Didn’t get your messages. Cell service in heaven sucks.”
Castiel shook his head. “It wasn’t important.”
Dean figured the chances of that being true were maybe thirty percent, but Sam picked up and Dean was in enough trouble as it was. He’d definitely told Sam what was supposed to go down tonight. Sam was way too connected to the angel network to not know what was happening.
Or not happening, in this case.
“Dude,” Sam said, before Dean could head him off. “You need to be in Maine half an hour ago.”
“We’re busy,” Dean retorted. “We’ll get there when we get there.”
“You’re late,” Sam said. “Cas called. He said you weren’t answering your phone.”
Dean was still looking at Castiel, who should be able to hear every word just fine. He shrugged, and Dean rolled his eyes. “He sent me some texts,” Dean told the phone. “I was talking to Lucifer. I’m done now, okay?”
“You’re not in Maine,” Sam said. Like that was the sum total of their issues.
“Whatever,” Dean said. “We’re going.”
“You better,” Sam said. “Is he listening?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, the corner of his mouth lifting as he looked at Cas. “He’s right here.”
“So I have to threaten you ambiguously on the off chance he doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen,” Sam said. “Don’t try to weasel out of this, Dean. I’d say something really cheesy about how it’ll make you happy, but the important thing is that if you don’t do it? We’ll make fun of you forever.
“And by ‘we,’” Sam added, “I mean people who can actually do it forever.”
Dean hung up on him.
“So,” he said, hoping he looked even slightly cool after listening to one of his little brother’s lectures. “Still have time for dinner?”
Castiel smiled.
They ate outside at some little clam shack on the coast, because summer had finally made it as far north as Camp Ellis and maybe also because the illusion of a quick exit was a tiny bit reassuring. It took Castiel a whole five minutes to say something about how weird he was acting. The sad part was, it probably took him that long because Dean acted weird all the time lately, what with garden-induced amnesia taking over at random intervals.
So Dean gave up. If a guy who ate chowder by fishing all the pieces of potato out of it first with his fingers thought Dean was acting weird, then he was never gonna get through dinner. He crumpled his napkin up and tossed it down on the table.
“Look,” he said, trying to ignore the scattering of people at the other tables. “This got off to a bad start, what with the…” He gestured at his head. “Forgetting, and all. And I know, it took me too long to get to it. We should’ve just done it the next day. But I wanted to –”
His complaints about an audience didn’t make any sense, given where they were, but he tried anyway. “You know they were all watching us, right? Everyone will know, but I wanted us to have a couple minutes to… you like the human thing, right? So if we’re gonna do this the human way –”
He probably shouldn’t be talking about humans so loudly. Since they were actually surrounded by humans. And he was going to get everyone’s attention when he stood up, because no way would they miss that, and any part of the host that cared to notice knew he was suddenly nervous: that would get the angels’ attention, which meant this plan had been doomed from the start.
“Dean,” Castiel said. He looked confused but strangely pleased, like he got something out of seeing Dean totally fall apart. That would explain a lot, actually. Since Dean seemed to do it on a regular basis.
“I think you’re trying to do something for me,” Castiel said carefully. “But I don’t know what it is.”
Dean stared at him. Half the host probably knew by now, and he couldn’t even say it.
“What are you trying to say?” Castiel prompted.
Cas had to be the only person worse at this than he was, so Dean blurted out, “Will you marry me,” only it didn’t come out like a question and it wasn’t, really, since Cas had already said yes. “I mean, I’m trying to propose, except I’m no good at it and you’re not exactly helping.”
It wasn’t fair at all. Castiel ignored it because he was a nice guy or possibly just because he thought it was true, and Dean wasn’t sure which option was more depressing. They’d just gotten their first sidelong glance from the next table over.
“This is the part where we become engaged,” Castiel said. He looked way too happy about it for a guy who’d objected to the word “husband” and made Dean call him his “fiancé” almost since the subject came up. “Officially,” he added, maybe reading Dean’s expression or maybe remembering the first conversation they’d had about it.
Dean could remember it too, he realized suddenly. He had it all back, his whole life, even the parts no one really thought about, and that was well-timed to the point of being suspicious. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought Castiel had more control over the garden than he claimed to.
“Yeah,” he said, fumbling something out of his pocket and concentrating just enough to make sure it didn’t glow to human eyes. “You know how this works?”
“I think you’re going to give me a ring,” Castiel said, his eyes on Dean’s hands.
“Yeah,” he repeated, but his throat was dry and it was getting harder to talk. He leaned forward, hoping to be quiet, but the words came out rough if they came out at all. “Okay if I kneel? I know you don’t like it, but it’s part of the… that’s how you do it. Doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it to.”
Castiel’s gaze was steady on his face again. “I trust you,” he said.
It was more than Dean knew how to take, here and now, in front of other people. He got up anyway and came around the other side of the picnic table, because this was important and he had to. He wanted to.
When he went down on one knee on the pavement, Castiel studied him curiously but didn’t say anything. People were definitely watching now. Actual human strangers, here with them at the end of the breakwater.
“Yeah, so,” Dean said. He had no idea how words were coming out. “Normally I’d tell you all the ways you’re awesome, or something, but… uh. We’d be here all night. You’re awesome, and I – I love you. You want to marry me?”
Castiel was smiling down at him, and that had to be a good sign. “Is that a question?” he asked, after a tiny pause that felt like forever. “Or a statement? Because it could have been a statement.”
“It’s a question,” Dean said. “You’re supposed to say yes.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed without hesitation.
“Or no,” Dean said quickly, because he hadn’t meant it like that. “You can say whatever you want, obviously. You’re just supposed to answer the question.”
“I did,” Castiel told him. “I’d like my ring now.”
He held out his hand like Dean was just going to drop the ring into it. And it was his right hand, so Dean shook his head. “Your other hand,” he said.
Castiel frowned, but he offered his hand when Dean reached for it and let him turn it over. “You said yes,” Dean muttered. He had no idea what the reason was but he was going to do it. “I get to at least put the ring on your finger.”
That was enough for Cas, apparently, and he held still while Dean slid the shining band onto his ring finger. To angels, there was no hiding its luminosity. What is it? Castiel asked, but even the question was tentative. As though he knew Dean would tell him, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for what it meant.
Fate, Dean answered anyway. He’d ruined her life. At least according to her. As far as he was concerned, she’d ruined his. Somewhere in the cosmic back-and-forth, he’d come out ahead in the favor chain. She owed me one.
I find that unlikely, Castiel remarked. He didn’t push it, though, and Dean took advantage of holding his hand to pull him up when he got to his feet.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Dean murmured, and the words still sounded too loud but Cas just nodded, quiet and steady against him when he leaned in.
So, okay. They didn’t totally suck at the human thing. When they tried, or whatever.
They were maybe a little better at ignoring the scattered applause than normal humans would be. But normal humans didn’t eat the world’s crazy for breakfast, so that wasn’t their fault. They managed to ignore the choir pretty thoroughly too, and so far that was the biggest win of all.
At least, they ignored it long enough to finish their dinner. Dean gave a quick wave to the rest of the clam shack patrons – if only to make up for the fact that Cas stared at them like they were a new species, and Dean had to whisper that the applause was a kind of congratulations and could he please stop – and nothing to the host. Except Gabriel, because she deserved the SHUT UP she got for her rendition of “looking for something dumb to do…”
It was easier to eat after that. Gabriel didn’t actually stop singing, but Dean managed to ignore her. It helped that Cas was predictably curious about the ring and Dean wanted to keep that out of the choir as much as possible. They concentrated on talking like human beings, and if it sounded strange to anyone close enough to overhear, at least it wasn’t demon Sunday school.
He didn’t know how long they would have stayed there. He didn’t know if Cas would have followed him if he suggested an overnight getaway to celebrate. He didn’t know if Cas would have suggested it himself; lately he was very interested in how human he could make his angelic form.
Dean didn’t get to find out, because his phone vibrated and he knew it was Sam without looking. Cas caught his eye. “Your brother?” he said, like it was a question. Like “your brother” only meant one thing, and Dean would always love that Cas reserved the title for Sam.
“Time to face the music,” Dean said, pushing the detritus of their meal together in the middle of the table.
“If it involves hearing Gabriel sing more,” Castiel said, “I’d rather not.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “She admits listening to Bruno Mars,” he said. “You’d think that would be more embarrassing than anything we could do.”
Castiel’s expression lightened, clearly getting the intent if not the specifics. He’d stopped questioning every pop culture reference that crossed his path, and Dean couldn’t tell if it was because he recognized when they weren’t important or if he just trusted Dean to tell him when they were. He gathered their trash and went to throw it away while Dean checked his phone.
Sorry, Sam’s text said. There’s a reaper here asking for you, says it’s about heaven.
That didn’t sound ominous at all. is it tessa? Dean sent back.
Beats me, Sam’s message said a few seconds later. Jo didn’t identify it.
He didn’t get why Sam couldn’t see reapers; it wasn’t like he’d never died before. But Cas was back, and Dean had left a tip even though they hadn’t been waited on, so they were stuck with the slow process of walking away like normal people. Normal people without a car. He’d fly the Impala wherever he went if it wouldn’t draw more attention than the flying itself.
“Jophiel would recognize Tessa,” Castiel said quietly.
“Yeah, but would she think it was important to tell Sam?” Dean asked. “One reaper’s pretty much the same as another to you guys, right?”
He knew better, and the reproof in Castiel’s voice said he knew it. “I resist the generalization,” he said. “And wouldn’t Tessa simply have found you herself?”
Dean had to give him that one. She’d never been polite about butting in before. “Yeah, still. Who else is gonna risk talking to me if everyone who talks to me disappears?”
“Someone who’s already spoken to you,” Castiel said. “Or someone who’s more afraid of the news they bear than of disappearing because they delivered it.”
“Who disappears reapers, Cas?” It was a question he should have asked before, except that he knew Cas didn’t have the answer anymore than he did. “They’re not born, they don’t die, what are they afraid of?”
“Being bound to someone other than Death,” Castiel suggested. “A bound reaper healed you, once. And your Tessa was removed from the fight as part of the breaking of a seal.”
“Whoa,” Dean said, because he was learning to catch these subtle clues. “She’s not ‘my’ Tessa. She’s just this reaper I know, okay?”
“She was your reaper.” Cas looked totally calm about it, which was such a lie Dean didn’t even know where to start. “She only took the Tessa form to gain your acceptance and trust. There’s no logical reason for her to retain that form.”
“She wouldn’t be the first to decide she likes looking a little more human,” Dean pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t count as my reaper if she doesn’t actually get to reap me.”
“See that she doesn’t,” Castiel replied.
“Hey.” Dean reached out and caught his arm, and Cas let himself be stopped. “Yours,” Dean said. “If you’re asking. Even if you’re not, okay? Still yours.”
Cas just stared at him, and seriously, Dean had no idea where it came from. Dean lifted his hand until the ring he’d put on it was at eye level. “Never gonna change,” Dean told him.
Those blue eyes didn’t waver from his. “Forever is a long time.”
Cas was maybe the only person in the world who wouldn’t make fun of him for being this corny, but Dean still lowered his voice when he said, “I hope so.”
It was worth it for the way Cas smiled.
The rest of the night made Dean wish he could have quit while he was ahead. Gabriel had stopped singing by the time they got to the garrison, and it was nice not to have “Marry You” playing on repeat in his head but her absence made Sam pissy. The reaper’s presence made Cas pissy. And that wasn’t even the bad part.
“Hi,” said a reaper who looked enough like Tessa to be her sister. “We have a problem.”
“Who are you?” Dean demanded. He was sure Death hadn’t been on-call with his reapers 24/7. In fact, he distinctly remembered Tessa saying, He calls us. We don’t call him. The damn ring should have come with an instruction manual.
“Tessa sent me.” The reaper looked just sassy enough to be scared, which had to be an act: what the hell were reapers scared of? Hadn’t he just asked this question? “I’m Tirla.”
“Okay, no you’re not,” Dean told her. Everyone else’s pissiness must be rubbing off on him, but he thought he should get time off for good behavior when he proposed. The rest of the evening. Or at least Cas not being pissed at him for more than a couple of hours at a time.
“Reapers don’t have names,” Dean said. “And why do you look like Tessa? You’re not gonna convince me you’re some recently dead girl in a hospital. Real or not.” Except that Tessa actually had been a real person, and he was already wondering if Tirla had stolen someone else’s likeness. If he had to spend the next hour finding out what had happened to her namesake –
“Tessa said you like women,” the reaper said. “And that you’d be nicer to someone who looked pretty.”
Dean sighed, because that was freaking fantastic. “Well, Tirla, I just got engaged to Cas here. Who looks like a man, in case you didn’t notice. You’ve managed to piss him off just by being here, and that doesn’t make me real inclined to do you any favors.”
Tirla looked at Castiel, who definitely didn’t look amused. He was really rocking the jealous spouse thing lately; Dean had no idea why. He’d tried to ask, but it always came out sounding like he didn’t want Cas around. He didn’t know how that happened either, but he was learning to keep his mouth shut if he didn’t want to fight.
“I see,” Tirla said. “Tessa didn’t mention that.”
“Where is Tessa?” Dean wanted to know. “What’d she send you for?”
“She’s gone.” Tirla was looking at him again, but the sass was gone. Now she looked as serious as any reaper, if a little scared. More scared then before, maybe. Cas could do that to a person. “I was her backup. So the last thing she was doing before she got taken is my job now.”
Dean frowned. “Did you say taken?”
“She’s gone,” Tirla repeated. “She said you promised to come after her.”
Dean exchanged glances with Castiel.
“She must have been taken,” Tirla continued. “She can’t be dead, right? I mean, you’d have to kill her.”
He’d never heard a reaper babble before, and it occurred to him that if Tirla wasn’t playing it up then she was more shaken than he’d ever seen Tessa. Even at the hospital when she was pretending to be human. “I don’t kill reapers,” Dean snapped. “Who the hell is kidnapping them? What does anyone want with a reaper, anyway?”
“Control,” Sam said unexpectedly. “Over life and death. Come on, Dean, who wouldn’t want a reaper?”
“Or you,” Castiel said.
Dean looked back at him, but Castiel hadn’t moved.
“Control over you,” he said. “The reapers are Death’s army. Without them, you are weakened.”
Reapers wouldn’t work on most of Dean’s enemies, but it was probably tacky to say so out loud. “You think this is about me?”
Sam’s incredulous laugh got his attention where Castiel’s stare hadn’t. “Dean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Sam said. “But everything’s about you.”
That was funny coming from Sam, but heaven got all up in his head before he could say it and the rest of the night went to shit. He was distantly aware of Anna appearing beside Cas, the garrison wards lighting up like a Christmas tree, and Sam’s hand going to the protection amulet he’d started wearing around his neck. The choir roared into awareness like the garden taking over and Dean felt his sword in his hand before he could think.
It was Zachariah that overwhelmed the host, words clear and inevitable, tolling like the voice of God: MICHAEL IS LOST.
“Cas,” Anna was saying. “We have to go.”
And the forces of heaven started to rain down on earth.
“Sam,” Dean snapped. “Garrison report, go. Everyone who checks in is staying, their sword for our sovereignty, I want them in the air defending earth as fast as they can fly. Anna –”
“We have to go,” she said, as calm as he’d ever seen her. “Cas can’t hold heaven alone, you have Samael. Raphael’s already forced Rachel to the gates.”
“Gabriel,” Sam said aloud. “Come back. We need you.”
“Dean,” Castiel said.
“Go.” Dean caught his arm and kissed him hard, fast, no finesse and no time to apologize. “I got the kids.”
Castiel and Anna were gone before he could turn around and he felt the main gate… jam. There was no other word for it, the entire host could feel how close the seal had come to being complete. But energy flooded the borders of heaven, making the sentries flare, and then it was gone. The door slammed shut. Heaven was closed.
Everyone but the archangels was cut off.
Maribel appeared at his side, Maia in her arms, and Dean swore. The wards were crackling, their line already under attack, and of course she’d brought Maia to the place she should be most protected. She was his kid, after all, and Maia was Gabriel’s. Sam’s garrison should be better defended than anywhere else on earth.
“Gabriel,” Sam was saying, apparently talking to no one. “Where the fuck are you?”
If Gabriel wasn’t coming, her garrison was just another fortress. A fortress on the front line, ambushed by angels that Zachariah must have been subverting all along. Raphael’s garrison, just following orders. Rebels taken back by heaven, loyal soldiers who wouldn’t follow a human. Stories Dean couldn’t worry about right now.
“It’s not safe here,” he told Maribel. “This is the first place they’ll target, and I need you out. Adamel’s with Lucifer; I need you to find him and stay with him. Take Maia.”
“To Lucifer,” Maribel repeated.
“She gave me her word,” Dean said, hoping desperately that this wasn’t a mistake. “If it gets too hot, you know where to go.”
Maribel just nodded. Sam was already coming over, reaching for Maia, but Maribel just asked, “What about Wildfire?”
“Sam, don’t,” Dean said. “Lucifer promised. They’re safer with her than with us.
“I’ll get Wildfire,” he added, putting a hand on Maribel’s head and then squeezing her shoulder. Wildfire was off the grid, grace gone and hopefully hidden by parents who were as paranoid as he was on a good day. On a bad day, they’d probably put her in angel witness protection.
“I’m not sending my kid off with Lucifer,” Sam hissed, turning a little so it looked like he wasn’t talking to Maribel. She could hear him perfectly well, but he wasn’t trying to take Maia back.
“You send your kid off with Lucifer every day,” Dean retorted. “Maribel’s got her; they’ll disappear if she makes a move. They’re safer there than here.”
All the lights went out and the air started to press in on them. Dean flung up a hand and the ceiling straightened out. “Gabriel’s not coming,” he said. “We have to go.”
Sam stared at him in the weird angel glow, and Dean forced one of the lights back on. “Or you can stay,” Dean said. “Angel fight, not your strong suit. The wards will protect you.” Probably. He should send Sam with the kids, except that Lucifer hadn’t promised to protect his brother and Dean didn’t want to know what the devil would do if she found herself standing next to Sam in a firefight.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Like that’s gonna happen.” There was a black shadow behind him, lighting glinting off the horse’s eyes.
Dean nodded, but Maribel and Maia were already gone. “Let’s go.”
He heard the windows blow out behind them. It was nothing next to the surge of power that propelled them into the fight – and suddenly, for a second that stretched into eternity, the angels were gone. Suddenly it was him and Sam, a scythe and a scale and the horses they rode. There was nothing in front of them but time, nothing behind them but chaos and creation.
Then the battle rose up around them. Michael’s grace was icy and sharp, merciless in the face of disobedience. He swung an archangel’s blade, not a scythe, but he could feel Sam’s balance pressing hot against his head. Sam was one with his horse in a way Michael could only envy, and it tempered the rage that had once split heaven down the middle.
It clarified things, just for a moment. The scope of the front turned clear and minute: narrowed to a child, a soldier, and an anomaly. “Jophiel!” He didn’t realize he wasn’t flying until he had to lean down, reaching for Wildfire from the back of a horse twice her height. Jophiel’s sword spun, but she let him haul Wildfire up behind him.
And she grabbed the nose of his mount, fearless in the face of Death. “Lose her,” Jophiel said, “and you lose this war.”
“She’s my daughter too,” Michael told her.
With a nod, Jophiel let him go.
He only saw one reaper. It wasn’t a battle to the death – it couldn’t be, not with archangels behind it. Not with their power reinforcing the lines the way it was. Every soldier was just an extension of the garrison, and this was a battle for control.
This was, as Sam said, all about him.
So Tirla shouldn’t be standing everywhere he looked. She was made manifest in a way that meant she was here to work. But no one was going to die today: not here, not if Dean could help it. And if they were, why her? Why her alone on a front that stretched halfway across the continent?
He missed the moment when his sword turned into a scythe, but Tirla didn’t. She stared with wide eyes as he bore down on her. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. It was Zachariah at the far end, he should be there, he couldn’t take Wildfire. “These souls are mine.”
“I don’t want souls,” she said hastily. “I’m not here for them.”
“Then go,” Dean told her. “This isn’t your fight.”
“Everyone who talks to you disappears,” Tirla said. “I won’t be a casualty of someone else’s war.”
He didn’t know how she was going to avoid it, but he also didn’t have time to care. “Stay out of the way,” he told her. “Wildfire. Hide.” She clung to his back as they thundered through the clouds, and by the time he reached Zachariah she was part of him.
“You know,” Dean said, glaring down at an archangel who didn’t know when to quit. “You were a lot less annoying as a bunny.”
“Dean,” Zachariah said pleasantly. Like they were meeting across a desk – again – and Zachariah was still on the right side of it. “Spoken to your father recently?”
Just like that, there was a blade pressed against his neck. “Because I have,” Zachariah growled. “He says get in line.”
Dean kicked him back, unimpressed by the flash of wings and armor. “Grow up,” he said. “Dad’s gone. You want his legacy to be our destruction?”
Zachariah sneered at him. “The fact that you believe he’s gone only shows how lost you are,” he said. “Our father would never abandon us.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Dean snapped. “You cut off everyone on earth and you’ve got the nerve to talk about abandonment?”
“A shepherd looks after his flock,” Zachariah said, with the same mix of condescension and smarm that had gotten him turned into a bunny in the first place. “The faithful are never alone.”
It was too much. The clash of swords, the fire that threatened earth, and a lecture on faith from Zachariah, of all people. He could feel the front crackling with anger, blades starting to slice through the power that pulsed between opposing armies. How the hell had he ended up out here? On the wrong side of heaven’s gate, rallying his broken followers with the promise of redemption, sword swinging even as he fell.
He trusted Lucifer now, even as he spit in Zachariah’s face.
They were going to lose this war. Maybe they’d lost before the battle had been joined. Maybe needing to fight had sealed their doom. If he went down, at least he would go down to the light.
“Dean.” Something jolted him, a beast slamming into his side, Michael’s wings uncomfortably bright against the blackness of the stallion that forced him backward. “What are you doing? The wall is coming down.”
Michael swung around. Sam grabbed his shoulder to steady him, but there was no one else there. There were alone at the end of the world, and angels were forcing grace and blood into a battle that threatened to blow up in their faces. “Where’s Zachariah?” Michael asked sharply.
“What?” Sam was watching him pour the power of heaven into the front line, forcing both sides back. “Was he here?”
“Raphael must be stuck in heaven,” Dean muttered. Fighting Cas and Anna both, and the combination should reassure him but it didn’t. Anna was too human, and Cas had never been as ruthless as he should be. Zachariah was only here because he didn’t have to be there.
“Samael?” Sam asked.
“She’s on the ground,” Dean said. With them, for a wonder. “Earth doesn’t know what’s happening yet. That’s down to her.”
“Dean,” Sam said, staring at him. “Is that –”
Dean felt Wildfire shift just before she poked her head over his shoulder. “Hi, Sam.”
“Jophiel’s going to kill you,” Sam said. “Just so you know.”
“She brought her to the fight,” Dean said. “I’m not sending her packing through that.” He didn’t wave into the clouds; he didn’t have to. No one should travel alone through a landscape torn and distorted by this much grace.
“What do we have to do here?” Sam asked. “Do we hold them? Do we push them back? I can’t see much but –” He did a thing with his hands that probably meant “whatever,” and he added, “Force. People if I get close enough. It’s pretty random.”
“Is it getting worse?” Dean asked, staring into the maelstrom.
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “More blurry. How’d you know?”
“Angels aren’t meant to be separate,” Dean said, catching Tirla out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, she was gone again. Sticking close, but trying not to let him see her. That was gonna get old real fast.
“What does that mean?” Sam demanded.
“The longer they fight, the less they know who they’re fighting.” Dean stared clear to the other side of the struggle and he could see it happening already. An angel here, another one there, pushed back by their fellows when they faltered. Not injured. Not the way humans would see it. Just a failure of purpose in the face of fighting their own.
He could feel Sam’s dread without looking, knew he already knew the answer before he asked, “Is that good or bad?”
“They won’t turn on their own side,” Dean said. “Probably. Not yet. They haven’t, anyway.”
“Since the last time,” Sam finished for him.
They stared at each other for too long, and finally Dean said, “So, your psychic thing.”
Sam shrugged. “Beats me. Ask Gabriel.”
Dean felt a flare of anger, saw Sam’s eyes flick to his wings and knew he’d given himself away. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “Guess we’ll have to do that someday.”
“We’ll find her,” Sam said. “She’s an archangel; she can’t be that hard to track.”
“If she doesn’t want to be here, I don’t want her,” Dean snapped. They were lucky to keep Anna and Samael. Gabriel’s betrayal hurt on a visceral level, but strategically he had to appreciate the win. He hadn’t been counting on any of them.
Michael, he heard Samael say.
Yeah, I know. The archangels weren’t quiet, and it wasn’t a private exchange. He didn’t know how much heaven could hear, how much of the host was listening, or whether it mattered when the options were so limited. Anna’s garrison was undefended, and the wards, at least, were worth maintaining. Any retreat would have to take that into account.
“Jesse can do it,” Wildfire whispered in his ear.
Jesse had rebuilt the wards himself; he probably could do it. Whether he would or not was another question. “How’s he gonna feel about staking out an empty garrison?” Dean asked.
“He’ll do it if we need him to,” Wildfire said. “I’ll keep him company.”
Sam was right, Dean decided. Jophiel probably would kill him, if only because he was accidentally enabling her daughter’s first crush. He’d thought Jesse was hanging around their house a lot. Maybe they should have rules about sleepovers.
“Where is he?” Dean asked.
“With Samael,” Wildfire said. No hesitation, no doubt. Jesse wasn’t an angel, and there weren’t any angels she could have asked that he wouldn’t hear. So either Jesse had told her where he was going to be, or she had some magical Jesse-sense now.
“Dean,” Sam said, but he could already see it. Sam’s garrison pushing forward, the fires of heaven falling back. Jophiel was instructing everyone to stand, to hold, to not pursue. They watched the opposing angels go while she waited to see if Michael would countermand her order.
It wasn’t strength that did it: Zachariah’s forces were being recalled.
Hell with pursuit, Dean thought. He wanted to race them to the gate, to reach Cas before they did somehow. Because there was only one thing that would keep Zachariah from making his point: unmitigated necessity.
Cas had said he could take Raphael. Anna’s soldiers would win them them saints. Zachariah had to be bringing his angels back because without them, heaven would split open at the seams. Advantage earth.
Sorry, Cas, Dean thought grimly. You’ve got our mess coming your way now.
The breaking of heaven is everyone’s mess, Castiel’s voice replied. We are not unprepared.
Dean didn’t know why he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to hear Cas. Dude, are you okay?
It was a stupid question and he knew it even as the words formed. None of them were okay, and Cas couldn’t tell him how bad it was if there was any chance at all of being overheard. Right now it was almost a guarantee.
We stand together, Castiel replied cryptically. Strong and whole. We are, and always have been, behind you.
Dean guessed that was Cas-speak for “yeah, we’re all fine here.” He could only hope the arrival of Zachariah’s soldiers didn’t change that. In the meantime, he had to get his own back to the relative safety of garrisons where an archangel could look them over. Some of them were going to need more than just a recharge.
Call it, he told Jophiel. Make sure everyone comes home. Samael, your fallback okay?
Never threatened, she replied. It was a concentrated attack: one side of the world at a time.
Well, no one would accuse Zachariah of dreaming big. Until now, maybe. Talking to God? Protecting his flock? The guy was either delusional or way more off the rails than Dean had realized. Sure, it didn’t take much to deceive angels – Dean had firsthand experience with that – but setting yourself up as the angel pope? That was messed up.
The garrison was intact when they arrived. Windows included, so Dean assumed that whoever had gotten there first had fixed them. He sent Wildfire off with orders to find Jesse, secure Anna’s base, and avoid the battleground if angelically possible. Samael had kept the struggle from bleeding through into human space, but the aftereffects of a grace war would make the area unstable for a long time.
“Hey,” Sam said. He was frowning at the windows when Dean turned around. “Do the wards look weird to you?”
“Dean,” Sachiel’s voice interrupted. “Is it safe to commune? We need an anchor or we’re going to start losing people.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, giving the building a cursory glance. “I’ll be right there. Sam, what do you see?”
Sam shook his head. He turned in a circle, throwing his arms up as he went, and Dean actually thought he looked weirder than anything about the building. “I dunno,” he said. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“You should eat something,” Dean said. He didn’t take his eyes off of Sam. The scales were gone, the horse was nowhere to be seen, but Sam was still wearing the ring. He shouldn’t have been able to see a fight like that, let alone participate.
Sam was shaking his head again until he caught Dean’s eye. Whatever he saw there made him stop, and Dean couldn’t tell if it was just obvious, his expression or something, or if Sam really was getting more psychic. His weird powers weren’t supposed to work on angels, right?
“Yeah?” Sam said. “You think?”
Sam was freakin’ tall and he was wearing too many layers for spring, but there was a weird gaunt shadow to his face when he moved. Could be his imagination. Could be powers Sam wasn’t supposed to have. Either way, some food wouldn’t kill him. “Can’t hurt,” Dean said. “Get me something too.”
That made Sam roll his eyes, but he grabbed another coat and headed for the door.
“Pie!” Dean yelled after him, and Sam lifted his hand without turning.
“He looks strange,” Sachiel remarked.
Dean sighed, because what he didn’t need was an angel confirming his suspicions. “Yeah,” he said again. “I know.”
“So do you,” she added. “There’s a darkness over you. Can you feel it?”
“No,” he said shortly. “What about the wards? You see anything wrong with ’em?”
“No Gabriel,” she said. “They’re dimmer without her.”
“Weaker?” Dean asked, squinting at the invisible symbols that climbed the walls inside and out.
“Not yet,” Sachiel said. “Maybe soon. I don’t know how much they’re dependent on a constant influx of power, but Gabriel always refreshed them when things got hairy.”
Gabriel’s warding had been the strongest on earth. If it was all downhill from here, they’d better take advantage of the time they had. “Communion,” Dean said. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t easy the way it had been. With heaven closed, Michael was the only one who could channel new power into a bond that was too public to be protected. There was no “rebel radio” this time; everything they did was open to the host. The worst of both worlds, as far as Dean was concerned: no power and no privacy.
It soothed the malakhim, though, and for that he would open himself up every time.
He didn’t let them go until Sam came back with food. By then, two things were clear: Samael was way better at subtly powering a garrison than he was – he’d have to get some tips – and as usual, his connection to Cas was stronger than it should have been. It didn’t totally surprise Dean that he saw Castiel’s garrison as soon as he gave himself over to the host, but Michael wasn’t used to being someone else’s soldier.
There are archangels on earth, Cas was telling Anna. Surely their connection is sufficient.
If we cut everyone else off we’re no better than Raphael. Anna clearly wasn’t convinced, and Michael didn’t blame her. An open gate was everything they’d fought for, and to let heaven take it back… to help heaven take it back was abhorrent.
We can’t guard everyone all the time.
It won’t stop them, Anna said.
In her words was the echo of what could be: angels taken through a closed gate by archangels and trapped, cornered by one side or the other. No recourse but to run or to turn and fight when that failed. But Castiel’s vision was just as grim: with no barrier between their armies it would be up to the archangels to keep them separate, only their constant attention preventing instant annihilation.
Cas was willing to gamble on the angels before the archangels, and no one in heaven was surprised.
“Hey,” a voice said quietly.
Dean drew in a breath, and Michael opened his eyes. Sam was standing there, watching him carefully. There was a hole at his side, at Michael’s side, something they were missing. The kids were quieter than they’d ever been. The garrison felt empty.
“Dean?” Sam asked after a moment.
It was an effort to roll his eyes, but it eased some of the tension out of Sam. “Do I look like the Easter Bunny? Where’s my pie?”
“Where it always is,” Sam said, holding up the bag. “Come on. We have chairs.”
He waited until Dean was sitting in one of them, unwrapping his burger like he needed to eat, like he couldn’t make food appear in front of them without sending Sam after a thinly veiled excuse for humanity. Then he asked, “So. How’s the garden?”
Dean paused before he could take a bite. “Fine,” he said automatically. Because what kind of a question was that? What did it even have to do with anything? Except – “It’s fine,” he realized. Frowning at Sam, he added, “It’s stable.”
Sam nodded slowly, like maybe he’d been expecting that. “Cas is busy. Distracted. You think that makes a difference?”
“I dunno,” Dean muttered. He did know. It definitely made a difference; he didn’t know why Cas wouldn’t admit it. “Kind of creepy if it does, though, right?”
“You think?” Sam didn’t look convinced, and Dean wondered why they were even talking about this. “It’s him, right? And you? Kind of makes sense that it would change more when he has more to… you know. Give.”
“Why are we talking about this?” Dean wanted to know. “Your garrison’s one down.” He tore off a bite but Sam didn’t say anything, so he didn’t let it stop him from asking, “Who’s your helper this week?”
“Katahdiel,” Sam said, putting his sandwich down. “Didn’t need her much; Gabriel was being good.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, great.”
“Jo and I can handle it,” Sam said. “If Sach steps up to help with the human stuff…”
Dean put his drink down harder than he’d meant to, and Sam sighed.
“Did she even say anything?” Dean glared across the room. He was looking for Katahdiel, but there was Tirla, lurking in the corner again. “Did she at least –”
He didn’t know what he’d expected. Gabriel had said she wouldn’t fight; she’d made it clear she was out. She’d been part of armageddon once and she’d lost everything that made her different. So she’d given up everything that made her the same. She walked away with nothing and no one heard from her for a thousand years.
If she’d gone to ground for another millennium, who knew what it would take to bring her back this time.
“No,” Sam said. He glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at Dean when there was nothing there. “She was here and then she was just… what are you looking at?”
“Reaper,” Dean grumbled. “You sure Katahdiel didn’t know anything?”
Sam frowned. Dean was pretty sure he picked her to help when Gabriel decided garrisons were boring specifically because Gabriel liked her. Which meant that half the time, the angel Sam had replacing Gabriel ended up disappearing with her, and all Sam got out of it was extra – but still very fake – contrition when Gabriel came back.
“She was here and then she wasn’t,” Sam said, like he hadn’t noticed before. “No note. No obnoxious stuffed animal. I thought she was going to spring a party on you and Cas, so I didn’t really –”
Katahdiel, Dean thought. What Sam didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Gabriel say anything to you before she took off?
“No,” Katahdiel said, stepping around his chair. “She did not.”
Sam glared at him, so yeah. So much for that. “You weren’t answering,” Dean pointed out. “It was a simple question, Sam.”
“We have a rule about face-to-face communication,” Sam told him.
That explained Katahdiel’s sudden presence. “What about the phone?” Dean asked, stuffing more of his burger into his mouth. He was just setting a good example; Sam had to actually eat his sandwich for it to do him any good, after all.
“Unless it’s over the phone,” Sam said. “Does that seem weird to you?” he added, looking up at Katahdiel. “That Gabriel didn’t even say anything?”
“She usually leaves her messages with you,” Katahdiel said.
“Yeah,” Sam said, frowning. “That’s what I thought, too.”
“Okay, let’s not forget the epic sulk that ended with Cas and the kids trapped in another dimension,” Dean said. “We didn’t even do anything that time.”
“Ever since then,” Sam said. “She’s left a note.”
“That you can’t read!” Dean exclaimed. Gabriel knew how to use Google Translate, and she made sure nothing she ever wrote down could be recognized by it in any way.
“They still exist,” Sam said. “Hang on a few minutes, okay? I’m gonna check at home.”
Dean threw up his hands, but only a little because he was still holding his burger. “Take your sandwich,” he said.
Sam did, so that was something. Dean interrogated Katahdiel, finished his burger, checked in with all the kids and barely kept himself from interrupting Cas at the same time. He made sure Jo knew she was Gabriel’s replacement, and he was back to working on his pie by the time Sam came back. Gabriel’s portal system was fast, but it wasn’t flying.
“Nothing,” Sam said, throwing himself down into the chair across from Dean. His sandwich was gone, at least. “That’s weird, Dean. That’s not like her.”
“Nothing’s like her,” Dean retorted. “She deliberately does stupid things. On purpose!”
Sam gave him a look that said it wasn’t worth calling him on that. “I don’t think she left,” he said. “I think someone’s got her and we’re not even looking.”
“We’re not looking because she doesn’t want to be found.” There were angels right here that he was actually responsible for. He didn’t need another wild goose chase for someone who’d told them not to bother.
“Dean.” Sam’s expression said it all, and Dean gave up.
“Sam, what do you want me to do? Look for her? Fine, where do we start? She’s a freakin’ archangel; there’s nowhere she can’t go.”
“There’s nowhere you can’t follow her,” Sam insisted. “How hard is it to track that kind of power?”
“Hard!” Dean exclaimed. “Jesus, Sam, you think I’ve never looked for archangels before? We’re good at covering our tracks!”
“If she meant to,” Sam said. “What if she didn’t? Humor me,” he added, when Dean rolled his eyes. “Say someone grabbed her when she stepped outside. It’s happened before, right?”
The last time Gabriel had gotten snatched, Sam had gotten stabbed. “She pissed off any deities lately?” Dean wanted to know. He shrugged in the face of Sam’s glare. “It’s a fair question.”
“Other than your boyfriend,” Sam said pointedly. “No. Not that I know of.”
“That song was really annoying,” Dean said.
“You taking a month to propose was really annoying,” Sam said.
“Have your own wedding,” Dean told him. “Only don’t, because you would.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Sam said.
“Neither does Gabriel being kidnapped,” Dean said. “She’s an archangel! Who does that?”
It was Sam’s turn to shrug. “So far, a lot of people,” he said. “You get kidnapped all the time.”
“One,” Dean said. “No I don’t. And two, that was when I was human. Not the same thing at all.”
“All I’m saying is, Zachariah had a plan.” That wasn’t all he was saying, and he proved it by adding, “Why wouldn’t getting rid of Gabriel be part of it?”
“She told us this would happen!” Dean burst out. “She said, I’m not fighting this war! How much more of a message do you need?”
“She abandoned Maia.” Sam leaned forward, like this was the thing that deserved to be kept between them. “That’s not her, Dean. Push comes to shove, she wouldn’t walk out on her kid.”
“You don’t want it to be her,” Dean told him. “Look at her role models. You think this is beyond her?”
“Look at ours,” Sam said. “Would you walk away?”
“These wards will fail,” Castiel’s voice said from right behind him.
Dean almost knocked over his chair standing up. “Cas!”
Cas smiled at his relief. “Hello, Dean.”
Everything in his head was asking, What are you doing here? How did you get here? Are you okay? But he rejected every single question and reached out to grab the nearest shoulder, squeezing hard. Cas didn’t stop smiling at him, his hand coming up to rest on Dean’s arm: awkward, probably uncomfortable, and he didn’t even care. He was just glad to be touching Cas right now.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam offered. He got up too, looking from one of them to the other with a badly hidden smirk. “Want me to, uh, get some coffee or something?”
Dean was tempted to say yes, except that then Sam wouldn’t even try to hide it.
In the meantime Cas said, “No thank you, Sam. I need to speak with you both. Heaven is closed; I assume Dean told you?”
“We’re still catching up on the details,” Dean grumbled, pushing Cas toward the third chair. “Sit down. How are you here, anyway?”
“I’m well versed in how to escape heaven.” He said it like it didn’t matter, like it was just one of those things that didn’t have years of fear and pain behind it. He looked up when Dean leaned against the back of his chair. “Also, the gates don’t respond to me the way they respond to the rest of the malakhim. As you know.”
“They think you’re an archangel,” Sam said. “So you can get in and out even with everything locked down?”
“Effectively, yes,” Castiel told him. “Anael and I hold the gates, but we agreed that it would be best to restrict passage as much as possible at this time.”
“Yeah, I heard part of that conversation,” Dean said. “Anna agreed, huh?”
“Wait,” Sam said. “You’re holding the gates shut? Is that why the other angels disappeared?”
“She doesn’t approve,” Castiel admitted. “But our power is limited. We overwhelmed Raphael easily, and Zachariah recalled his forces to battle in heaven. At that point, it seemed prudent to contain the fighting as much as possible.”
“Keep it away from earth,” Dean said. “Good call.”
“You are still threatened,” Castiel told him. “We can’t hold the archangels, and they can move whomever they wish.”
“It’ll slow them down,” Dean said. “How are you guys? Are you good? Zach’s not the only one who can redistribute soldiers.”
“The shock of this will stop us all for a time,” Castiel said. “It’s too familiar, still.”
Castiel’s wings were very smooth, half there and half not as they glowed through the back of his chair, and Dean had no idea what made him think that running his hand over them would be less obvious than touching his shoulder. He’d already done the shoulder clasp, and a pat wasn’t enough in the face of… this. He couldn’t press his hand to the back of Castiel’s neck and bury his fingers in windblown hair, because Sam was watching and Dean got enough grief over their PDAs as it was.
So he stroked one hand over the curve of Castiel’s wing. It was nothing, absent and intentional and some maybe small piece of the comfort he couldn’t put into words. He felt his mouth quirk as his fingers lit up with the glow of grace.
“Dean.” Castiel’s hand clamped down on his wrist and pulled him forward. Dean stumbled into the chair, arm draped over Castiel’s shoulder while Cas scrutinized his hand. “What did you do?”
“What?” Dean stared down at the top of his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not –” Castiel turned sideways in his chair and craned his neck to stare up at him, squinting in the artificial light. “It didn’t feel like an angel. Touching me. Just for a moment, I…”
Dean waited, because he could joke but Cas would look disappointed and it wasn’t worth it.
“I can’t explain it,” Castiel said at last. He didn’t look away.
“Was it bad?” Dean asked bluntly.
Castiel frowned. “I don’t know.”
“You want me to –” Dean tugged on his hand, letting Cas know he could back off.
“No.” The response was immediate, and Cas shook his head like it wasn’t worth considering. “That’s not what I meant, I just – no. Stay.”
Sam was watching them, but he just looked concerned. It meant Dean could put his other hand on Cas’ shoulder without getting mocked. He wouldn’t have done it if Cas hadn’t been so determined to hang onto him, and Sam did catch his eye. “You want me to go?”
It was a genuine offer, even if Dean would pay for it later. But Cas shook his head before Dean could, shoulders tensing under his grip. “I should be getting back. Rachel and Anael need reinforcement.”
“Cas,” Sam said, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Before you go… we were talking about Gabriel.”
Cas let go of his hand, but at this point Dean was done with personal space. If this was all he got before Castiel flew back to heaven or whatever, he was going to take advantage of it. He let both his hands settle on Cas’ shoulders and squeezed, pressing into his back with his thumbs. Sam was gonna know exactly what he was doing, and at this point he didn’t care.
“Indeed.” Cas sounded like Gabriel was some guy they’d met once, not the sister they’d been depending on to protect angel children. “I can not place her anywhere in the choir.”
Sam looked at Dean, but hey, he wasn’t gonna stop him.
“I don’t think she left on purpose,” Sam said, looking back at Cas. Dean kept rubbing his shoulders, and he could feel Castiel’s aborted head tilt. “I think someone took her tonight because they knew we wouldn’t look. I think we should try to find her.”
Castiel agreed silently, instinctively, and Dean raised his eyebrows.
“What?” Sam wanted to know.
“Cas agrees with you,” Dean said.
At almost the same time, so close the words overlapped, Castiel asked, “You don’t?”
Dean shrugged. “I think Gabriel’s doing exactly what she said she would. But if you want to look for her, I’m game.”
Sam made a face at him that Dean chose to ignore.
“If it was another archangel,” Castiel said, “someone in heaven will know.” He sounded too close to sighing for Dean to like it. “I’ll make some inquiries.”
“Thanks, Cas.” Sam trying to be sincere to Cas while glaring at Dean was kind of hilarious, especially since they were almost on top of each other. Dean tried to ignore the way his fingers tightened when he felt Cas about to stand up.
“You might try one of the goddesses,” Castiel offered, putting his hand over Dean’s again like a reassurance. “I wouldn’t invoke them lightly, but you seemed to… get along all right? With more than one of them.”
Sam opened his mouth, glanced at Dean, and closed it again. He lifted his hands in apparent surrender. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll try it,” he said.
“Dean,” Castiel said, and this time he really was getting up. “I don’t know if Lucifer would be willing to assist, or have any information worth asking for, but the children might. Gabriel is linked to the garden, in her own way, and they may be able to perceive her where we can not.”
“Right,” Dean said. He hoped it didn’t sound as sarcastic as he thought it did. Because the children Gabriel couldn’t stand were exactly how she’d choose to pass a message. “I’ll check on that.”
“Thank you for not saying that out loud,” Castiel said calmly.
Dean took the excuse to squeeze his shoulder one more time. “Thanks for not being a dick about thoughts I keep to myself, okay? Geez.”
Castiel just smiled at him, and Dean thought maybe he’d meant it.
“Okay,” Sam said, standing up. “I’m getting coffee. Good to see you, Cas.”
“And you also, Sam.” Cas didn’t look even slightly puzzled by his abrupt departure, so Dean figured that meant he was okay to be a little… closer. Or maybe a lot. Heaven was farther away than it had been that morning.
“Hey,” Dean said. “Yell if you get in trouble, okay?”
Cas turned into him, and they couldn’t be any closer without touching. “Of course, Dean.”
Dean didn’t bother trying to be cute, just leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Be careful,” he muttered afterward.
“I love you,” Castiel said, very quietly. He was still watching Dean, expectant but not as casual as he was trying to pretend. So, really? This was gonna be a thing they did now?
“Love you too,” Dean said under his breath. He let his hand brush over Castiel’s arm, and Cas’ fingers fluttered against his before he pulled away. “Still want to marry me?”
Castiel looked at him like the question was incomprehensible. “Yes,” he said.
“Okay then.” It should have been weird, but it was just…
He shouldn’t admit that it was comforting, right? Even to himself. Except it kind of was, and if that didn’t describe every stupid thing Cas did for him, he didn’t know what did. He was ready to roll with it right up until Cas lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to Dean’s fingers.
Dean just stared at him, because where did he even –
“I taught you that,” he realized. That time at the bike rally, Cas had been a Harley chick and Dean had been twenty-five. Dean had needed some gentleness, and he hadn’t been able to admit it then either. “Geez, Cas,” he blurted out. “You’re always there.”
“Yes,” Cas repeated. He probably saw it as fact, not a revelation. “Call me if you need me. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Dean had to smile. At least Cas never knew what he was supposed to say either. “Yeah,” he said simply. He didn’t realize they were still holding hands until Cas just stood there, waiting. It occurred to Dean that if he didn’t let go Cas might not leave at all.
Tempting, but. Embarrassing. He didn’t know whether embarrassment or practicality won out, but he took a step back. Cas never looked away. He just lifted his wings and let his gaze linger until it was gone.
Take care of him, Michael thought, giving the ceiling a brief glance. Take care of all of them.