Fate Comes on Dark Wings, Part 5

Sam could tell they weren't leaving the motel room tonight, so he opened his computer and found a Chinese place nearby that did deliveries. Dean bitched about Chinese food and then asked for the chop suey. Sam put down mixed vegetables for himself and turned to Castiel. "What do you want?"

"I don't eat."

"Everybody eats," Dean said.

"It isn't necessary for me," Castiel said. "I know you have little money."

"Dude, we can cover freaking takeout." Dean looked over to Sam. "Just order the cashew chicken, that's usually good." As Sam made the call, his brother pulled up the single chair in the room and sat down on it backwards to fix Castiel with a look. "Okay. Talk."

"It will sound crazy."

Sam hung up and flopped down onto the other bed. "Try us. We've seen a lot of crazy stuff. Why don't you tell us what you really are?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord." Castiel watched as Sam exchanged looks with Dean. "I know I don't look like much right now, but I'll show you my wings when I'm stronger."

"Yeah? What happened to you?" Dean snarked. "A run-in with a jet engine?"

To Sam's surprise, the corner of Castiel's mouth twitched upwards. "That would have been preferable. I have spent..." He paused, apparently calculating something. "About two years in a prison camp run by demons. It was very unpleasant. In the final days the Resistance--I mean, the armies of humanity--was besieging the city, so the demons decided to burn it down. I escaped in the chaos, but something went wrong and I ended up...here."

"Here." Sam tested the word on his tongue. "What's 'here?'"

"...I think this is a different world from mine," Castiel said, distinctly unhappy. Dean gave a snort of disdain; Sam barely suppressed one of his own. "I know," he continued. "I wouldn't believe it in your shoes. The situation now--" His eyes flicked over Sam and Dean. "--What we're doing, right now, would have been temporally impossible in my world. You--" He gestured to Dean. "--would be dead, and you--"

"Sam would've gone dark side, you already told me that," Dean interrupted. "I hate to break it to you, but you're freaking delusional."

"Dean!" Good Lord, his brother wouldn't know subtlety if it punched him in the face.

"What? I'm just calling it like it is!"

"I am not delusional," Castiel said fiercely, hands curling in the bedsheets. "I am an angel, and our minds are not malleable like a human's. Give me time and I will prove myself to you."

Dean opened his mouth, presumably to say something obnoxious, but Sam waved him to silence. "Alright. Let me get this straight. You're an angel. From the future. From another universe."

"That's right."

"And you want to stay with us because..."

"I think Azazel is running the same plan here that he had back home." He crawled to the edge of the bed. "Stopping him is my top priority. Let me help you."

"Yeah?" Dean snapped. "What makes you so certain?"

"Sam is a special child. Azazel must have fed his blood to Sam in the nursery. You've met other special children, right?"

"A few," Sam said, a little too casually. Demon blood. There was no way to prove Castiel's claims, but it made sense. Why had Yellow-eyes visited his nursery? How did all the special kids get their powers? What tied them to Yellow-eyes? They must have been altered--it was the only logical answer. If it wasn't demon blood, it must be something equally vile. Loathing pooled in his stomach. There was something sick inside him, and he could do nothing about it. Unless... "Is there a way to fix the kids? Drain the demon blood out or--I dunno--?" He gestured, unable to finish the sentence.

"No. It is an intrinsic part of you." Fuck. Sam could feel all those half-suppressed fears bubbling up--his freakishness, his impending insanity, descent into evil and goddammit Castiel was reading his mind right now. He glowered at the man, who shied away.

Casting a worried look to Sam, Dean began, "We're not here to talk about Yellow-eyes--"

"Hold it, I want to hear what he's got to say."

Dean frowned, moved to Sam's bed, and hissed in his ear, "This guy's nuts. You can't believe anything that comes out of his mouth!"

"I know that, Dean!" Sam snapped, louder than he intended. He ratcheted the volume down several notches and continued, "Look, we're following up on every lead we get about Yellow-eyes. Every lead, no matter how crazy."

"Sam, the last lead we had was Gordon going on about a demon war!"

"Okay, so maybe we look into that a bit further. Whatever Yellow-eyes is planning, it's big, and if we stop him before he pulls it off then--you know--" Sam swallowed, painfully aware of the third person in the room. He needed a drink. "--Maybe we can save the special kids."

"You're grasping at straws, Sam," Dean said, but the fight had gone from his eyes.

"I'll do whatever it takes."

Castiel's eyes flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean when they turned back to him. He remained silent until Dean said, "Get on with your story."

"...I am trying to help you," Castiel said in such a deadpan voice that it took Sam a moment to realize that he was frightened.

"We're not going to hurt you," Sam said in his kindest voice.

"Yes. Well." Castiel scooted to the side of his bed to better face the brothers. "Azazel is trying to free Lucifer from Hell. That's a very difficult process, and he needs a human proxy to complete it. That's why he created the special children."

"Lucifer? As in the goddamn Devil?!" Dean exclaimed, right as Sam said, "A proxy? What happens to all the other kids?

"Azazel pits all of 'em against each other. Last one standing gets to start the Apocalypse."

"Yeah--how does he do that, exactly?" Dean demanded. "I mean, what's the proxy supposed to do?"

"There's a heavily warded Hellgate in Montana. Azazel needs it open, but he can't get to it. So the proxy opens up the depths of Hell and swarms of demons get out. The one to remember is Lilith. See, there's sixty-six seals--locks--on Lucifer's cage, but there's hundreds of ways to break them. The last one is Lilith. Lucifer rises when she dies."

The shock of his announcement left Sam speechless. Dean opened his mouth, then closed it after a moment, frowning. In the silence that followed the rap on the door sounded unusually loud. Sam crossed to the door to get the food, paid the deliveryman, and passed out the cartons to their respective owners. They all dug into their cartons without saying another word.

Of course Dean finished first, stuffing his empty carton into the takeout bag before leaning forward. "Alright, Castiel--"

"You can call me Cas."

"Pass, thanks. We were heading to Sioux Falls today to see a friend of ours, Bobby Singer. He's got a pretty big collection of books on hunting. You'll probably find something that will help you figure out how to get home."

That was Dean to the core: ignore the apocalyptic pronouncements and try to pretend everything was going great. "We're gonna spend a couple of days there ourselves, so we'll help you settle in," Sam broke in.

"We are?"

"Yeah, we are." Sam ignored his brother's frown and turned back to Castiel. "You've answered a lot of important questions for us. I'd like to compare your story with the lore Bobby's got."

Castiel gave him a small, uncertain smile. "I'm happy to help, but I haven't finished yet." He fixed his eyes on Dean. "Azazel has plans for you as well."

"Yeah, yeah, I end up in Hell, you said that already." Dean crossed his arms. "Fuck that noise. No way I'm selling my soul."

"Even if it was the only way to save your brother?"

Dean's face clouded over. "'Course not," he said, a little too loud and a little too late to be believable.

Even with all the craziness surrounding the special children, even with Yellow-eyes plotting their doom on the sidelines, sometimes the most terrifying thing in Sam's life lately was his brother. Most of the time he seemed normal, all jackass jokes and wannabe coolness, but sometimes the mask slipped and Sam saw pain in his face. Dad's death had hit him hard. "Dean..." His brother looked over him, just a glance, and Sam snapped his mouth shut. They weren't having this discussion now, not in front of a stranger.

Castiel sighed. Stared at Dean until the other met his eyes. "You are righteous, Dean," he said softly, like he was talking to an animal about to bolt. "That makes you very important in the grand scheme of things."

The tension shattered. Dean gave a snort of laughter, and Sam had to bite back a snicker of his own. He loved his brother, but he wouldn't nominate either of them for Man of the Year, much less righteousness. "Man, you got me mixed up with someone else."

"You are righteous," Castiel insisted. "The virtue in your soul burns like a bonfire in a field of candles." He dragged a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. "I don't get it. Why can't you recognize your own worth? Every time, I swear--" He broke off with a shake of his head. "Anyway. The first seal on Lucifer's cage is broken when one of the righteous goes to hell. Selling your soul literally means the end of the world."

"We've already established that's not going to happen," Dean snapped. "You coming to Bobby's with us or not?"

"Dean, this is important!"

Dean folded his arms. "With us or not?"

Castiel opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes flicked to Sam, who kept his face smooth. Despite his insistence of helping the brothers, despite all the information he had given them, Sam could not bring himself to trust this man, much less work with him. Reading their expressions, Castiel slumped in defeat. "With you," he muttered at last.