![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alchemyaliceAuthor: AlchemyAlice
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Spoilers: Season 5
Warnings: Further butchering of Revelations, and a new little dash of angst.
Disclaimer: Riffing on stuff that isn’t mine.
VI.
They reappear in Bobby’s backyard, from which most of the angels have already dispersed. It’s dusk now, and the remaining ones cluster around the lamps near the house, and where they’ve jumpstarted some of the junk cars so that their headlights give them some light to see by. They’re in every variety of vessels, but all of them hold themselves sternly and radiate alienness like it’s their job.
There are hunters around too. Not that many—the rising of the Witnesses was alltoo effective in that regard—but enough. Sam sees their parked vans and mobile homes and pickup trucks scattered in with the junkers in Bobby’s lot, and many of them are leaning against the hunks of metal. The majority seems torn between trying to act casual and feeling highly suspicious. Sam doesn’t recognize most of them, though he thinks for a second that he sees Cassie talking to some guy by a pile of rusted engine parts. Some of them are oiling guns, sharpening knives, hunched over their work. Others are drinking beer and making quiet and uncomfortable small talk, watching as the angels process around like they’re landed gentry among the peasants. It’s a bizarre dynamic, but a part of Sam is grateful it won’t all be angels, all the time. After all, they’re fighting for humanity, not for heaven.
And of course, Michael is at the center of them, along with Castiel, who is drawing and redrawing sigils in the dirt and on the skin of the vessels, reciting Aramaic softly under his breath. The whole scene looks like some sort of bizarre military draft, which Sam supposes it is, really. The hunters watch Michael most of all, and Sam thinks he sees one hunter he recognizes vaguely from a job probably years and years back looking back and forth between an old tome and the symbols Castiel is printing into the ground, trying to identify the shape and purpose. Sam sort of wants to just go over there and explain it.
Gabriel, in contrast, looks immediately uncomfortable at the crowd, and heads in towards the house without even a glance in Sam’s direction. Sam realizes that he is still sitting on the ground, so he hauls himself up on shaky feet and begins to head toward Michael.
“Sam? Hey, Sam!”
Sam pauses, blinks. “Chuck?”
The prophet looks up at him with bruised looking eyes. He has a beer in one hand. “Yeah. Woo. Just your friendly neighborhood prophet.”
“What are you doing here?” Sam asks. He never could really wrap his head around the whole prophet thing, and knowing that some random dude apparently knows his entire life story inside and out just makes him feel awkward. “Isn’t Raphael going to be looking for you?”
“Well, no. At least, not so far as I know. After all, apparently I’m in the presence of another archangel, so they think I’m safe, or something. And wow, Dean’s really rocking the vessel thing, huh? I sort of didn’t believe it until I saw it, and hell, I wrote about it before it even happened.”
“You come in with the other hunters?” Sam says, looking around. He notices that the crowd is watching them carefully now, assessing. Even the angels seem to have turned their attention somewhat.
“Yeah. Anna stopped by my place with a bunch of them all in this crazy caravan and introduced me to a bunch of them. As if my world couldn’t get surreal enough, right?” Chuck laughs feebly. He looks over his shoulder, and then hunches a bit under the attention. “Um. So. Glad to see you’re still with us, and not, you know, Lucifer-y. I was sort of worried when we arrived and you weren’t here.”
“Yeah, no,” Sam says, rubbing his shoulder. It was still a bit sore, and he can feel it tightening with dread. “I’m still around. And me. Um. Do they know that I--?”
“—raised the Devil? No,” Chuck shakes his head. “I figured it best they don’t know. Last thing we need around here is dissention, right?”
Sam nods. Chuck seems to squirm slightly, and then touches Sam very briefly on the arm before immediately snatching his hand back.
“Um. So I’ve sort of become the spokesperson to the hunters—you know, telling them what’s going on, why the hell they’re hanging out with angels, and so forth. You mind telling me what Dean—I mean, Michael—is doing right now? Because they really want to know. It’s sorta freaking them out.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. I mean, I could go over there with you, if you want.”
“Would you?” The prophet looks infinitely relieved. “Because I don’t do so well with crowds.”
“Yeah, I sort of noticed.”
So Sam goes over to the group with Chuck, and tells the hunters what little he knows. One of them immediately says, “You’re Sam Winchester? John’s son?”
He nods.
“And that’s Dean over there?”
Sam cocks his head. There’s an air of accusation and disbelief that he doesn’t like. He sees it in all of them, now, and he’s almost surprised they haven’t already all turned tail and run for it. Or taken a pot-shot at Dean.
He looks over his shoulder. Michael is looking intently at one of the angels, seeming to bless him with a sort of gravity and otherness that Dean could never even hope to affect. “Well, not quite,” he says. “At least, not right now.”
“I tried explaining that part,” Chuck murmured, “But they didn’t believe me.”
So Sam explains. He finds himself gesturing widely at Castiel as he explains how vessels usually work, and how Dean’s situation with Michael is different. He jerks a thumb at the house to indicate where Michael’s flaming sword now resides. He tells them on no uncertain terms that Dean’s got everyone’s back, and it’s only for that reason that Michael does too. And he recounts how, before he left to go after the Leviathan, he’d seen the shadow of Michael’s wings stretch in earnest across the rafters of Bobby’s kitchen ceiling even as Dean was the one doing the talking.
“And watcha do after that, Sammy? Wanna tell them how much of a badass you are, too?”
Sam turns, and smiles. “Well. I figure I gotta have something for myself after singing your praises all over the place.”
Dean grins as he saunters over, and looks at the crowd. “Hey guys. Sorry I couldn’t talk earlier, we’ve been a bit crazy around here. Thanks for coming, in any case.” But he turns right back to Sam. “So I take it the Leviathan is no more?”
“We took care of it,” Sam confirms. The small crowd has immediately begun to dissipate after acknowledging Dean with brief, slightly strained nods and hellos, and he wonders briefly if Dean is so hard to be around after all. He’s gotten used to the bigger, more terrifying presence lingering under the skin of his brother, but he figures that strangers probably don’t want to deal with it much, friendly power or no. He’s suddenly intensely glad Chuck asked him over to talk to all of them, maybe smooth some ruffled feathers.
Dean’s grin is sharp, with a bit of Michael’s hawklike focus. He has eyes only for Sam.
“Dude. Leviathan,” he says. “It’s really too bad we can’t put this shit on our resumes, because after all this is over, if you put, ‘has slain the motherfucking Leviathan’ on your transcript, Stanford would be morally obligated to just give you your degree immediately.”
“Or morally obligated to commit me,” Sam grins back. “How’s it going over here?”
“Workin’ on our network. It’s pretty slow, but Cas says it’ll be worth it, and I believe him. So give me the blow-by-blow, Sammy. What’d take to bring down a monster of literally Biblical proportions?”
Sam can’t help it—he’s exhausted and sore and more than ever wants to just go in and sleep, but instead, just like he did with the hunters, he tells every single detail. And this time, he enjoys the act of telling. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Dean so open to him, so willing to take his word at face value. They’re so damaged, by each other and others, that this simple act of listening and telling is of ridiculous importance, so that Sam finds himself scrounging for anything he can remember, adding jokes to keep it as entertaining as he can—anything to keep that shine in his big brother’s eyes and the approving tilt to his mouth.
When he mentions the spear, though, Michael suddenly pushes through and splutters.
“So Gabriel really let you use his spear?” he says, blinking rapidly.
“Uh, yeah,” Sam says, taken aback. He’s a little offended that Michael would cut in on what was clearly some important sibling bonding time, but the way Michael’s looking at him now, hawk-like and yet deeply amused, has him waiting for answers. “Why?” he asks.
“That spear…” Michael puts his hands together as if he’s about to pray, but instead he just brings them to his lips to choose his words. “The spear was forged specifically by Gabriel with the blessing of our Father, for the singular task of killing the Leviathan.”
“Right. The awesome spear of awesome.”
Michael snorts. “Oh, is that what he called it? The point is, though, that it’s never been handled by a mortal in all its long existence.”
“Oh,” Sam says, and suddenly feels intensely guilty that he left it broken on the cliffs of Iceland.
“There was a prophet in Troy,” Michael continues, and now his eyes are practically glowing with mirth, “Cassandra. A cursed but quite wonderful girl. I was one of the few to heed her foresight. She once said that the only way the great beast of the sea could be slain was when the spear was given to Man with love, to be wielded well and true in a time of reckoning.”
Sam stares at the archangel, not really processing. “Oh?” he says blankly. “So, it’s okay that I used it?”
“Sure,” Dean says, and now it’s Dean again and he looks like a cat that just got cream, or a brother who just got some serious mockery material, “So long as it was given to you with luuurve.”
Sam cringes and shakes his head rapidly, “It wasn’t like that! He just wanted help, and I—“
“Took the spear that would slay the beast, yeah, sure buddy,” Dean grins. “Just keep telling yourself that.”
“Man, you should talk, you’ve got an angel who practically fell for you,” Sam retorts. But then he listens to what he just said and freezes. Oh. Oh. That’s what Gabriel was talking about. A whole lot of things are making sense now. Unfortunately, Dean’s never-before-until-now-questionable sexuality is not one of them.
“He didn’t—I mean, I didn’t—shut the fuck up,” Dean says, darting a glance laced with guilt back at Castiel. Castiel, however, seems absorbed in his work, and so he relaxes, though only marginally.
Sam recovers as best he can, filing his thoughts away for later, and says, “Yeah, exactly. So don’t give me crap for what Gabriel may or may not have done.”
Though yes, Sam is definitely going to be asking him about that, because what the hell, for serious. Bad enough that one of them is apparently beating around the bush with a celestial being, but both? That’s just sloppy symmetry, and Sam does not approve. Especially since that would mean he’s stuck with the annoying one who apparently sees gallivanting off to foreign countries to slay massive Satanic creatures as romantic. At least Castiel acts like Dean is the Second Coming.
…Which he apparently kind of is. Fuck.
Dean shifts in discomfort. “So you killed the Leviathan with a spear. That’s pretty epic. Now what? Gabriel got any more plans for you?”
“I think he’s avoiding the crowd,” Sam says. “So I don’t know.”
“All right. Well, I’ve gotta finish up here, but then I’m guessing we have a lot to do. Michael’s thinking that since we’ve had War and Death come up already, Pestilence or Famine is next. We should probably get ready for them.”
“’Kay,” Sam says. He’s still feeling pretty good about the whole Leviathan thing, recently healed injuries notwithstanding, so he just nods and goes with it. That seems to be what they do nowadays, anyway, except for when it comes to the heavies of Heaven and Hell, respectively. “Then I’m gonna head in. Get some dinner and sleep for a couple of years.”
“You get hurt?” Dean asks immediately, worry forming on his brow.
“A bit banged up. Nothing serious.” Sam pointedly doesn’t mention to what extent, or Gabriel fixing him up. No sense in adding to fuel to the fire.
Dean nods but his mood has clearly darkened, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything because then Michael’s sliding back into focus. “I’ll be finished with this in a few hours,” he says. “Tomorrow, we’ll organize the hunters.”
Sam acknowledges it, and goes into the house. Michael looks over at Castiel, who is finishing another series of sigils.
“How many more are there?”
“Five,” he answers, and looks up at the next angel in line. “Kalaziel. It is good to see you again.”
Kalaziel[1] bears the vessel of a young woman, college age perhaps with dark features and darker clothes. She smiles peaceably. “Castiel. It’s been a while. Michael,” she acknowledges with a slight bow. “I had almost believed you had left us.”
“It was really dependent on who ‘us’ was at the time,” Michael says, his mouth quirked, but there are millennia in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ll have need of you, soon enough.”
He rests a hand lightly against the back of Kalaziel’s neck while Castiel recites the incantation once more. When it is finished and he pulls away, there is a dark sigil imprinted onto her skin. They move on.
When the angels have all gone, left to continue the battles they left and the tasks assigned, Michael turns to Castiel. “Does a third party need to recite the words for you?” he asks. “In order for the sigil to imprint properly?”
Castiel pauses, and looks upon his elder brother. “No…I should be able to say them myself, as usual.”
Michael narrows his eyes. “You seem doubtful.”
“The Enochian sigils on Dean are overturned by yours for the other angels, but for the one who carved them…” Castiel says, hesitatingly.
Michael studies him. “You think they may interfere. Too many layers of connection and disconnection between you two.”
“It seems likely,” Castiel agrees.
The archangel thinks for a moment. “Perhaps the issue should be addressed on Dean’s side, then?”
Castiel says nothing.
“You don’t want to bear any mark but his.” Michael ventures suddenly.
Castiel freezes. “I only suggest that it may be a more certain connection.”
Michael shakes his head, and pats Castiel on the shoulder. “Be careful, brother.”
Castiel watches as Michael gives way to Dean, who is looking at his own hand on the angel’s shoulder in deep consternation. “Cas?” he asks uncertainly.
“I have marked you,” Castiel replies evenly, firmly putting Michael’s caution out of his mind. “You need only mark me back, and I believe a channel such as what Michael has formed with his subjects can be forged, despite the sigils carved into your bones.”
“Yeah, but, shouldn’t you have one of his marks? I mean, he’s the real leader here.”
“What makes you think that?” Castiel asks, too sharply, and suddenly Dean is frowning, his eyes narrowed.
“Dude. He’s Michael. I mean, I know we’re all buddy-buddy now; hell, that’s what made me say yes to him in the first place, but he’s the archangel, not me.”
“Michael won’t stop this fight. That is not his place.”
Dean stares at him. “Come again?” he asks, voice dangerously low.
Castiel steps forward, looking intently into Dean’s face. “You are the righteous man, Dean. Not Michael. You will be the one to end it. Michael may give you the force you need, but you will be the one to lead this charge. Do not forget that.”
For the past day or so, Dean had been on the verge of ebullient. Now, Castiel watches his shoulders re-tighten, bracing for a fight. “I’m not a leader, Cas. I’m a soldier.”
“You are the righteous man.”
“Stop saying that!” Dean stands up and backs up a few paces. “For Chrissakes, what’s it gonna take to make you understand that I’m the opposite of righteous! That’s why Michael’s gotta do his part, isn’t it?”
Something in Castiel breaks, though he can’t really identify what, except that it’s been building in him ever since Michael emerged from hiding in Dean’s body. Either way, he grabs Dean’s wrist hard enough for Dean to flinch. “Never say that,” he snarls. “Never tell me, I who know you so well, so blatant a lie.”
Dean stares at him, and feels the hard pulse of blood through the compressed veins in his wrist, warm and uncomfortable in Castiel’s grip.
“You have an archangel living inside of you, yes,” Castiel says to him, voice low and fierce and guileless. “Of course he will bear some of the burden of this war. But how could he exist there if you were not worthy of him? How can I make you believe that you are worth his belief, and worth my allegiance?”
Dean shudders. “Your allegiance,” he echoes, “Jesus, Cas.”
“Mine. To you. Given freely and with full knowledge of the consequences,” Castiel says, and the words feel like blows to Dean.
He can’t speak.
Castiel tells him, “Let your mark reside on me, as mine does on you. It’s only fair, you know.”
Dean laughs, and it’s more of a choking cough than anything else. Slowly, he raises his opposite hand and rests it on the back of Castiel’s neck. His hand is heavy there, his thumb tight against the sensitive skin behind the angel’s ear. “Say the incantation,” he says quietly.
Castiel nods. Recites. Feels the prickling burn of a symbol being etched into his vessel’s skin. But it goes deeper than that. He feels it on the surface of his Grace, embedding itself in his essence, just as Dean’s soul bears the print of his hand.
Can you hear me now? Dean asks, a smile quirking at his mouth. He doesn't make a sound.
Yes, Dean, Castiel replies back, and something deep inside him thrums. Perfectly.
Part Seven.
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 00:32 (UTC)A different way for Micheal to appear, and i really like the fact that he's not a dick. Much Crowley and Az love as well. Can't wait for more. :D
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 02:03 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 00:59 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 02:04 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 01:18 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 02:04 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 02:01 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 02:05 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 03:03 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 06:38 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 05:04 (UTC)That's a very good point. They should have as many allies as they can get, but in the end it comes down to human choices.
And of course, Michael is at the center of them, along with Castiel, who is drawing and redrawing sigils in the dirt and on the skin of the vessels, reciting Aramaic softly under his breath.
Castiel has exhibit the most Enochian magic in the show. It makes sense that he would be doing it on a large scale for Dean's army.
and Sam does not approve. Especially since that would mean he’s stuck with the annoying one who apparently sees gallivanting off to foreign countries to slay massive Satanic creatures as romantic.
Awww, Sam is unhappy with what he got for an angelic not-boyfriend. Though I do think it's hilarious that Gabriel is getting territorial over Sam in ways that are obvious to the other angels, and yet not mentioning anything to same. Angel emotions are *weird*. :D
Dean shudders. “Your allegiance,” he echoes, “Jesus, Cas.”
Dean's a little scared of the responsibility. Which is understandable, because Castiel will just follow him wherever, against all reason, sense, and difficulty.
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 06:38 (UTC)Dean is terrified of Cas's loyalty. No one's given him that except Sam, and even Sam can give loyalty, but not always trust, as apparent with the whole Lucifer rising debacle. So basically, Dean's in entirely foreign territory here.
Thanks for reading :)
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 11:32 (UTC)Dean at least has the excuse that such loyalty is pretty inhuman. Of course, Cas is only moderately good at conforming to human expectations, so Dean should be used to it by now.
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 09:38 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 13:15 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 13:12 (UTC)I'm definitely looking forward to the next part so I've added you to my flist if that's okay?
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2010 13:15 (UTC)no subject
Date: 20 Jan 2010 13:16 (UTC)no subject
Date: 23 Jan 2010 11:08 (UTC)no subject
Date: 26 Jan 2010 08:04 (UTC)“It’s really too bad we can’t put this shit on our resumes, because after all this is over, if you put, ‘has slain the motherfucking Leviathan’ on your transcript, Stanford would be morally obligated to just give you your degree immediately.” Hee! Trufax!
Michael mentioned Cassandra! *flail* And, Sam, honey, I love you, I really do, but you need to get a fucking clue.
Bad enough that one of them is apparently beating around the bush with a celestial being, but both? That’s just sloppy symmetry, and Sam does not approve. Especially since that would mean he’s stuck with the annoying one who apparently sees gallivanting off to foreign countries to slay massive Satanic creatures as romantic. At least Castiel acts like Dean is the Second Coming. *giggles insanely* Sloppy symmetry! *cackles*
Let your mark reside on me, as mine does on you. And if that’s not a proposal, I dunno what is!
no subject
Date: 26 Jan 2010 12:49 (UTC)You just know the symmetry would bother Sam. It bothers me, to be honest, but the pairings are just too good to resist. But I have to acknowledge that it's annoying, so Sam gets to do it for me.
And yeah, Cas and Dean have totally proposed to each other a million times, and just don't know it. They're special like that.
Thank you for reading! More soon :)
no subject
Date: 27 Jan 2010 09:50 (UTC)Laura.
no subject
Date: 8 Feb 2010 04:43 (UTC)"At least Castiel acts like Dean is the Second Coming. …Which he apparently kind of is. Fuck."
Funny realization Sam has there!
no subject
Date: 8 Feb 2010 07:43 (UTC)Crowley and Aziraphale! Cas snapping! Dean marking Cas! Gabriel and Sam slaying the Leviathan!
*flails some more*
no subject
Date: 24 Mar 2010 14:41 (UTC)Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it :)
no subject
Date: 20 Dec 2010 14:45 (UTC)Sorry I didn't comment until now, to eager to just continue reading. But I have to comment after this particular dialogue:
>>>“You have an archangel living inside of you, yes,” Castiel says to him, voice low and fierce and guileless. “Of course he will bear some of the burden of this war. But how could he exist there if you were not worthy of him? How can I make you believe that you are worth his belief, and worth my allegiance?”<<<
OMG! I kinda wanna cry. You tell him, Cas!
This will be tagged "highly-recommended" on my Delicious. There's no doubt!
no subject
Date: 20 Dec 2010 22:22 (UTC)no subject
Date: 24 Nov 2011 22:27 (UTC)