Use Your Illusions, Chapter Seven

[wanderamaranth]

Title: Use Your Illusions
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC17 (Rating has changed!)
Warning(s): blasphemy, violence, language
Spoilers: Up to and including the promos for 6x19, "Mommy Dearest"
Pairing(s): eventual Dean/Cas, past Dean/Lisa
Authors: wanderamaranth  and quantum_witch

Summary: In trying to defeat Raphael’s armies, Castiel has employed a desperate and dangerous gambit which backfired in the worst way, and now must turn to the Winchesters for help. Meanwhile, Dean slowly comes to understand he doesn’t have all the time in the world to accept his 'stupid girly feelings'. And Sam finds himself, quite literally. Every possible wall comes tumbling down, for everyone.

 

<<Chapter Six

*~*~*~*

It was almost morning when Dean awoke. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep, but he wasn't surprised. The previous night had been pretty intense on multiple levels. Remembering the good bits (the really incredibly awesomely good bits) had him grinning broadly before he even opened his eyes.

The only reason he even bothered to open them was to see what Castiel was doing. The angel was beside him on the bed, propped on one elbow, slowly tracing whorls across his chest with a fingertip. He could feel a warmth flowing through that finger that was probably Castiel's grace. A tremor of excitement went through his body as he recalled how that grace felt deep inside him, swirling with his soul. It was the lightest of touches, but started to get him hard again.

Castiel didn't stop trailing his finger when Dean's eyes opened. He merely smiled. "Good morning, Dean. You slept well."

"Yeah, I did," the hunter yawned and stretched, but not enough to dislodge Castiel's hand. "Think you had something to do with that."

"You were understandably exhausted from our coupling. I undressed you to make you more comfortable," he said, nodding at Dean's bare chest.

Dean peeked under the covers to see he was clad only in his boxers. Castiel was still dressed as he was overnight, which was awesome—seeing the angel dressed in his old sweats was surprisingly hot. Though it would have been doubly awesome to have a naked angel next to him, he knew better than to ask. For now, Dean was honestly content to simply lie there and let Castiel pet him. Motes of dust drifted in the sunlight streaming past the angel's tousled head, almost creating a halo.

When the hell did I start writing movies for the Hallmark Channel? Dean thought. The angel's grace had clearly melted his brain, but he couldn't bring himself to be disgusted with the direction his mind had wandered. Not yet, anyways. It really was kind of nice.

Castiel's fingers made a final swirl then stopped as he placed his palm flat over Dean's heart. "I apologize for waking you with my movements."

"This?" Dean looked down the hand. "Best way to get woken up, next to a blowjob." He winked at Castiel and his sudden blush. "But this is good, too."

For a moment, they were both silent, then Castiel's face grew more serious. "I've never spoken to you about the angelic language, have I?"

"Uh, no..." Dean raised his eyebrow, curious about this change in tone. "I mean I know a few words, but it's pretty weird and sounds like a bunch of gibberish being chanted by stoned Himalayan monks. No offense."

"None taken. English is a flat and often uninteresting-looking language filled with illogical exceptions to many of its own rules." He overlooked Dean's laugh. "And while Enochian embraces concepts in dimensions beyond human grasp, it is… lacking in areas where human languages are most gifted."

The look of sadness on Castiel's face made Dean frown. "Hey, what's this about?" He raised a hand to cup the angel's jaw.

"There is no word in Enochian for 'love', Dean. It's something we claim – when we speak in human languages – to feel for our Father, our brothers and sisters. And it is what we supposedly feel for mankind, if your clichés have anything to say about it." His lips twisted into a wry approximation of a soft smile. "What we really feel is ineffable, cannot be properly defined by human words. But I promise you, it's not really love. It's obedience and righteousness combined with a fierce desire to fulfill God's will, whatever that may be. Nothing like love at all."

Castiel's eyes nearly closed and he gazed downward. He hadn't actually met Dean's yet, which he could tell was beginning to worry the man. "Cas," Dean tilted the angel's face towards him, "what are you talking about, man? Is there something wrong? Something you trying to tell me, here?"

The angel looked at him directly, his gaze tender and intense. "There is no word for love, Dean. How can we ever hope to love when it doesn't exist in our world?"

Dean sat up, taking Castiel's face in both hands now. "You don't need a word for it, Cas, not if you feel it. You know I suck at saying stuff, but I can show it. And I'll keep showing it." He kissed Castiel's nose and then smiled encouragingly, rubbing his thumbs along the angel's cheekbones. "Hey, I'll bet that's why so many angels are total dicks, because they don't have the language for something so basic."

With a huffing laugh, Castiel closed his eyes. "Yes, that's probably the case. My language doesn't have the words, but I feel it, Dean. I believe I have for years, though I had to learn what it was the hard way." He took Dean's hands away from his face and clasped them between his own. "It was a challenge, searching my language to find something close enough to 'love' to inscribe upon you."

Dean's brow creased. "Uh, what? Inscribe?" He looked down at his chest then, and saw no marks. "Did you just put something else on my ribs, man? How can there be any more room?"

Castiel shook his head, looking at Dean's chest as well. "It's not on your ribs, it's on your soul."

Dean had no response to that. He should have protested what was essentially going to sleep with someone then waking up to find they'd given him a tattoo with their name in a big heart. But he just couldn't protest at the depth of love radiating from the angel. Especially when he was feeling it too.

I'm gonna gank myself if I get any worse, he thought weakly. It's just unnatural. It's like I've been bitten by a radioactive cupid.

"Actually, I modified your ribs some time ago," Castiel continued. "When I healed you at Stull Cemetary, I altered enough symbols to allow me – only me – to locate you without aid. Why do you think it only takes a prayer to call me now, where it took a phone before?"

Dean gave a little shrug. "Profound bond?"

With a soft laugh, Castiel touched Dean's shoulder over the scar. It didn't send any great sparks of lust shooting through his body – the man didn't know if he should be thanking God for small miracles or if he was disappointed – and Dean took a deep breath.

"The bond has something to do with it. Always has. But now you are not blocked from my view. Nor is Sam. I did the same for him when I read his soul after your deal with Death. No other angels could find either of you without my direction first, and I couldn't protect either of you without being able to see you." The angel shifted uncomfortably. "It seems despite my efforts I failed in that regard."

"Are you kidding? You've done everything and then some for us, Cas. You gave up Heaven and your family, you fought side by side with us, you died for us – twice. So you made a few deals that… okay, I admit it, I'd have done them too, in your shoes. I kinda have before," Dean sighed and tried not to look away from the angel's widening gaze. "I know I've been an ass, believe me. Sam has made sure I know that. I know I was hard on you, blamed you for doing the worse things possible, for lying to me. I'm not saying you've been making great judgment calls, Cas, but…," he bit his lower lip and took a deep breath, "I get it. And I'm… I'm sorry I didn't get it earlier."

Castiel tilted his head in that oh so familiar way and gave the hunter that piercing look that always made Dean's stomach flip a little bit. Then he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Dean's lips. No words were necessary.

Thank God, Dean thought, as he ran his fingers through the angel's messy hair and tugged him gently forward for a slightly deeper kiss, because his word-o-meter was just about on empty. Actions always spoke louder anyway.

After a few moments (just enough to leave them both breathless) Castiel pulled back. "We should be going. Sam will be at the diner across the street with Bobby in ten minutes, and we all need to discuss strategy. He says they have an excellent apple pie. And," Castiel did the head tilt again, as if trying to decide if he'd heard correctly. He nodded in confirmation but still looked mildly horrified, "Their special is something called a 'Bacon Explosion' sandwich. Sam says to tell you that if you're going to eat it, then he'd like me to clean out your arteries afterward." Looking at Dean with great seriousness, he said, "This sounds like a dangerous foodstuff. Perhaps you ought to avoid it."

"Angel radio," Dean shook his head in amusement and got reluctantly out of bed. He cleared his throat as he fought down his renewed erection, but was a good boy and only took a very quick shower with no funny business.

Castiel was already dressed when he returned, in the clothes that he'd been wearing for the last four years, now completely renewed and (almost) pristine.

"Dude," Dean scoffed, "why put that old coat and suit on again? You can borrow some of my stuff. Or, hell, you could make new stuff, since you put that back together." He shrugged on his own clothes quickly while laughing at the angel's odd expression.

"I'm accustomed to this, I suppose. And… well, in a way it seems like I ought to. It's part of what I am now."

Dean stared at him, then helped to tug that (apparently meant to be) ever-present blue tie a little less straight. "Well, if the coat is like Superman's cape, then yeah."

God damn it. He was just gonna retire from hunting after they saved the world again and find a job writing shitty Valentine's cards.

Before they left the room, just in case he couldn't control his apparent teenager-with-a-crush affliction, he asked, "So what was it you wrote on me earlier?"

Castiel smiled. "In stoned Himalayan gibberish, it's LO-LEH-KEE-ESS OH-LEH MO-NU-OH-NEH-ESS." After the hunter finished laughing, he smirked and continued, "It means 'protect my heart', Dean. You may take that to mean whatever you like."

Castiel went out the door ahead of him, which was good because Dean refused to let the angel see him grin like a giddy girl. He could almost feel the fucking pink hearts and unicorns popping out of his ass. If he ever found another cupid, he was going to kiss it right on its fat little mouth and buy it a drink.

*~*~*~*~*

Pie was the most perfect food on earth, Dean thought with a sigh, cutting off another piece of fresh crust filled with warm, sweet apples, and lifted the laden fork. Nothing tasted better, except the angel he was feeding it to.

Castiel allowed the fork to be passed between his lips, then slowly removed after he'd closed them. He chewed with a small smile at the corners of his mouth, watching Dean gaze at him virtually unconcealed adoration. Maybe I put that Enochian inscription on a little thick, he laughed inside.

"Wish I'd refilled my flask before I got in here," Bobby grumbled into his third cup of non-Irished-up black coffee. "My God, you guys are even worse after getting laid."

Castiel responded without ever breaking eye contact with Dean. "I thought that getting laid was supposed to make us more bearable. I apologize if I did anything incorrectly. Perhaps we should return to the motel and try again." Dean perked up considerably.

"Lord, take me now," Bobby groaned helplessly.

Sam was grinning ear to ear as he watched his brother(s) being gushy and painfully obvious to anyone that came within fifteen feet of the table. The waitress had nearly burst with glee at their behavior when she'd brought their orders, and was even now nodding toward the table so two more fellow servers could squee together from behind the counter.

It would have been more disgusting if they didn't all know how impermanent it may be. Sam really hoped that, in five years, he could be teasing Dean with sappy anniversary gifts and asking when they were adopting. He hoped that with all his heart.

"As great as it is to sit here and watch you two make goo-goo eyes at each other, we really need to be discussing what we're gonna do about the little problems hanging over our heads," Bobby said, nodding his thanks to the waitress as she refilled his coffee cup. They all waited in polite silence as she poured, and when she asked if they needed anything else, Sam, Bobby and Cas shook their heads, but Dean said, "Ah, could we maybe have a plate of waffles, too?"

"Waffles?" Sam asked when she finally walked away.

"What?" Dean sniffed. "Thought Cas would like 'em, that's all."

"Boys," Bobby said sharply. "Focus. We've got to figure out how we're cleaning up all your various messes here."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "You never did tell me the details of the deal you made for my retrieval, Dean."

Dean briefly told him what they'd agreed to. With each stipulation Cas' face grew stormier.

"You should not have agreed to such a price for me, Dean."

"Hey, we wrap this up in a few days, no price is paid at all. That's a pretty damn good deal if you ask me."

"The crossroads deal isn't all we have to handle," Bobby reminded them. "We also have a coupla primordial figures runnin' around killing civilians, in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten," Castiel said, voice tight. "I regret allowing Crowley to sway me into freeing the Leviathan, but if there is to be any chance of my forces winning our war, Raphael's Behemoth has to be challenged by something equally fierce."

"You're talking about using the Leviathan as a weapon. Turning her loose on Behemoth and hoping she comes out on top. Aren't you?" The furrow between Sam's brows were pinched, his mouth pulled down in an unhappy moue. Dean would have liked to joke about it how exaggerated it was but showed some restraint and kept his mouth shut. He's sure Sam would have been surprised if he'd known.

"Yes," Castiel said. Dean felt the angel reach under the table for the hand Dean rested on his thigh, and with an indulgent smile met him halfway and threaded their fingers together. He squeezed reassuringly, and Castiel relaxed a small fraction. Sam snorted, and Dean looked over at this brother with a small scowl.

"What?"

Sam wasn't looking at Dean, though. He was looking—no, glaring—at Castiel. Dean flicked his attention from Sam to Castiel and saw that he was meeting Sam's expression and raising him a stubbornly clenched jaw. Silence enveloped the booth, uncomfortable enough that Bobby loudly slurped on his coffee to break it.

Finally, Castiel said flatly, "Sam disapproves of this course of action."

"Are you suggesting I should be happy about it?" Sam asked, fingers curling around the handle of his fork as he viciously speared his eggs. "'Cuz I'm really not. But I'm willing. I said before that I'd call her, and I will."

"Call her?" Dean asked, confused. "What am I missing here?"

Bobby stared down at his plate and returned his focus to his neglected hash browns, Castiel took a sudden interest in the waffles Dean had ordered in addition to their pie (which was awesome, because he was really looking forward to introducing him to maple syrup) and Sam flagged down their waitress, gesturing helplessly toward his empty glass of orange juice.

"Before, when I was...you know..." Sam said, scratching the back of his neck, "She and I might have had a thing."

"A thing?" Dean felt like a very dim child, unable to do more than parrot back phrases it didn't understand. "A thing?" He slipped his hand free of Cas' as he propped both forearms on the table to better gesture in disbelief. "You're telling me you used to bang the Mother of All?"

"That's what you're worried about?" Bobby huffed, plunking down his coffee cup. "No offense, boys, but I have some concerns about the two here at this table that have shown the weakest decision makin' skills suddenly being the ones doing all the plannin'. You all may be idjits, but I ain't."

"If you have any better ideas, Bobby, we're all ears. Let's hear it," Sam said, hands clenching. Dean saw his eyes spiral from their normal blue-green and take on a golden hue, and he leaned in to whisper, "Do we need to be worried about that?"

At Cas' confused expression, Dean said, "His eyes, dude. They like, went golden."

Bobby responded to Sam, "Maybe you've forgotten that we've got a group of hunters nearby that could be willing to help? Why aren't we even considering bringing them in on this?"

"Maybe because they'd all end up dead, Bobby," Sam challenged.

Castiel murmured back to Dean, "I don't think we need to concern ourselves. It is a sign of the elements of Samael in him, but that's not a bad thing. From what I've heard he was a strong strategist, and we could use his knowledge."

"Thank you, Cas," Sam said, turning back towards Dean and the angel. A genuine smile tilted the corners of his mouth. The tips of Cas' ears turned red, which Dean secretly thought was adorable.

"I am not saying I disagree with Bobby, though, Sam," Castiel said. "Having all the forces we can muster can't be anything but to our benefit. We don't know what the Behemoth or Leviathan may unleash, and we'll need to try to keep the forces they bring to battle contained and away from the human population. We may need to arm them with weapons from Heaven's arsenal for them to be effective, but-"

"Great," Bobby growled, "now that's settled, I'm gonna go make a phone call." He threw a few loose bills onto the table top and left the booth, muttering unflattering things about all three under his breath. Dean watched him clamber into his truck and pull out his cell, before turning back to Sam.

"You think Mommy is going to bring her children to play." Dean rubbed his forehead in frustration. "And this is the good plan," he muttered under his breath.

"I didn't say it was a good plan," Sam interjected. "Actually said I was unhappy about it. What Cas is suggesting is calling Eve so that she can fight Behemoth...what he's not saying is that when she does that it's pretty damn likely she's going to open the mouth of hell to do it."

"Purgatory is the only thing that can contain the Behemoth without destroying the very fabric of this reality," Castiel said.

"Not arguing that point," Sam said defensively.

"You guys can't possibly be serious," Dean said, leaning away from Cas to stare at him and his brother. They returned identical blank stares, which okay, creepy, because a guy didn't want to ever see that much of a similarity between his...whatever Cas was to him...and his brother. "I feel like I should be detailing to you all the ways in which opening the mouth of hell is a bad idea, which is scary, because it's the mouth of hell. That right there should be enough of a clue." He took a deep breath, and said, "What about that Ziz chick? Think she'd help us? She didn't seem too fond of Eve, and I can't imagine she's any happier with Behemoth."

"She's not powerful enough to defeat Behemoth. She doesn't have the same diametrically opposing relationship with him that Eve does," Castiel replied.

"Okay. Say I agree with this whole scheme," Dean said. "So what happens after Behemoth is gone? We still have another all-powerful monster on the loose with no way of defeating it."

Castiel laid a comforting hand on Dean's forearm. Sam didn't bother to suppress his grin at the sight.

"When the Leviathan is done she will return to her home, Dean."

"Why? Because we ask nicely?"

"Yes," Castiel said, his voice challenging. "She will go when Sam and I command her to."

Dean was silent for a long minute. "You seem pretty damn sure of that."

"We are," Sam said, and there was a hint of shadow to his face, that tightness he got when he was lying to Dean about something, but it was there and gone so quickly the hunter couldn't be sure he didn't imagine it.

"Scuse me," Dean said, nudging Cas. "Let me out," he clarified, when the angel just stared at him in puzzlement. "I'll be right back," Dean reassured him. He gestured to the restrooms. "Nature calls, man."

"Of course," Castiel nodded. The angel watched Dean as he swaggered past the giggling young waitresses. A pleasant thrum settled low in his stomach, and he wished for Dean to return quickly.

Eve isn't going to just go back because we ask, Cas. Sam said, interrupting the angel's thoughts. Cas blinked and turned towards his brother, not bothering to deny what he said.

No, she won't. I'm going to need to force her back.

You plan on using souls to force her back into Purgatory, Sam accused, and Cas nodded.

If I have enough, she won't be able to deny my command, Cas said, almost casually. When all he got in response was Sam's nearly overwhelming disapproval through their connection, he mentally sighed and said, I know that you feel I am addicted to their power. Perhaps I am. But sacrifice freed her, and sacrifice will seal her once more.

Cas, I don't think you're considering...

Your arguments will not sway me, Sam. God isn't going to step forward and offer to place her back in Purgatory for us. I will do what I must.

Their brief conversation ended when Dean returned to the table. He pulled out his wallet and threw more money into the small pile Bobby had started.

"You guys ready to go?"

At Cas' puzzled look, Dean grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Don't think I forgot what you said about outfitting us with heavenly weapons, Cas. C'mon, I wanna see your toys."

Sam sputtered, and Dean's grin morphed into a smirk.

*~*~*~*

Bobby gave a heavy sigh as he sat in his truck and dialed his cell. This was gonna be a long goddamn day and it might be his last. Well, it'd been an interesting life.

They needed more troops. Sam and Dean never had back-up, most hunters didn't hunt in packs. But right now there was a pack of hunters nearby, more than a dozen if some hadn't already hit the road for home. Maybe he'd luck out.

The phone rang three times and Holly picked up. "Whatcha want?" she said by way of greeting.

"Hey, it's Bobby Singer. Got a proposal for you and whoever else might still be hanging out there."

"You got some kinda nerve, calling and asking for anything," she barked. "Your boy Sam and his weird friend who appears out of thin air are on my shit list, and I'm fixin' to add your ass to it, too."

"Goddamn it, what'd they do?" Bobby groaned, putting his fist to his forehead.

"That little one in the long coat knocked me out with some kinda spell, and then right after I woke up Sam was talking to another one, some sleazy guy in a velvet jacket. Who the fuck wears a velvet jacket?"

"I think I know who. Lemme guess, then they both vanished into thin air."

"You got it," she declared angrily. "And then I get wind of that bar in Enoch gettin' flattened by a monster. Which Vern tells me was that big damned hunter he'd been working with. I've got monsters and freaks coming and going in my territory so fast I can't tell who's what anymore!"

Bobby sighed sympathetically. "Yeah, unfortunately I understand. But Holly, there's something bigger going on—"

"You're damned right there is! There's been more signs than a damned construction zone on the Vegas Strip, just since last night! All kinds of bad hoodoo happening. And it's all right here, Bobby. We got a wiccan priestess and a couple native shamans who all had visions of disasters. They brought a bunch of mystical stuff I don't understand. And this really confused nun who just showed up after the Virgin Mary popped up to tell her a 'fight of Biblical proportions' was headed right for us."

"Well, she's right on the money, I hate to say. Holly, we've got demons and angels and a bunch of fucked up monsters from so long ago they've barely got names, and they're all about to start tearing up the countryside. Right now, all I've got is myself, a couple boys, an angel who's in charge of an army that's barely held together by spit and chewing gum, and a few little mystical weapons that'll probably blow up in our faces for all I know. So if any one of you guys are still out there, and if you wanna help fight for the fate of the whole damned universe, I suggest you get out here to Enoch in the next four hours or so, because a shit the size of a blue whale is about to hit the fan."

There was dead silence for about thirty seconds, and Bobby was sure Holly had put the phone down and walked away to call on another phone for the men in white suits to come get him (and he would've welcomed the vacation in a padded cell about now). But he could hear other voices, discussing things a little heatedly. A second later she was back. "Okay, everybody here heard what you said, 'cause I put you on speaker the minute you started talking about demons and angels. I've got fourteen hunters here, and myself, and none of us have backed down from a fight in our lives. You tell us where and we'll be there. 'Course if we all die, we're comin' back as ghosts to kick your ass to hell, Bobby Singer."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that for a minute. Lemme get you coordinates and I'll see ya in a couple hours."

*~*~*~*

"Brother!" Balthazar panted as he rushed across the parking lot to Castiel. "I've been worrying myself sick! Why didn't call me, tell me you were alive?"

Castiel looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Balthazar, I literally didn't have the ability to communicate for some time." He clasped the other angel's outstretched hand, which closed desperately around his.

"Then why didn't our long-lost elder brother ring me up?" he scowled at Sam, who shrugged apologetically. "Didn't trouble yourself to think anyone else might be the least concerned about this situation? Thank you so very much, you lumbering mastodon."

"Hey, things were busy," Sam rolled his eyes, "we sort of had immediate problems."

"Save it for the next family Christmas dinner, at which I will pointedly refuse to speak to you or pass the yams," Balthazar waved him off with a scoff. "Cas, I was panicking. I couldn't find you. There was something blocking me and it wasn't the Behemoth."

"Oh," Castiel said, in sudden realization. He pulled the hex bag from his coat pocket. "I had forgotten about this. And of course you couldn't find the Winchesters because of the sigils I put on them long ago. I'm sorry, brother, we should have called you the moment we woke this morning." Castiel gave him a look of sincere regret.

"Bloody right, you should've!" Balthazar breathed a sigh of relief. "I had to search for that ruddy old codger to track you down."

"Hey," Bobby protested, but was ignored.

"Cas, I have enormous, positively world-shattering news," Balthazar was tugging at his hand. "Away from the humans, if you don't mind. Please."

Castiel looked back at his friends (and lover) and nodded that he would be fine. "I won't be long. And I will call if I need you." Sam nodded at that, and they reluctantly went back into the diner.

"Now, what is it, Balthazar?"

"Oh, my dear Cas, you have no idea of the magnitude of this news," Balthazar's face was almost literally beaming. "One of our little spies told me the most remarkable thing, something that could end the war, end Raphael, end every problem we have with Heaven."

Castiel's brow lifted. "What could possibly do all that?" His eyes shot wide. "Is it God? Has He returned?"

"Alas, no, dear brother. But you—" Then Balthazar froze, his enthusiasm washed away in a gut-clenching rage. "There's something different... Oh, no. No, you didn't. With that—" He backed away and gaped in disgust. "He's touched you, hasn't he? You've let him touch you. You gave it up, at last… to that barely house-broken primate?

Castiel stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Balthazar, you will not insult him. He is the Righteous Man, even now."

"Of course, Cassy," the blond angel sneered coldly. "So very righteous, taking advantage of your honor while you were fresh out of the hands of our brutal sister."

"Balthazar, enough," Castiel's voice was low and dangerous. "My relationship with Dean is of no concern to you, nor, I am sure, is it relevant to whatever you were going to tell me."

For a minute, Balthazar stood there, breathing hard through his nose. How could Castiel, the best of his brothers, have soiled himself in Dean Winchester's bed? Naturally he himself was far from untainted by human hands, he had no illusion about his own status as a hedonist. But Castiel was a different story. He was still pure even with all the suspect things he'd done, the darkness that touched him hadn't yet infected the depths of his heart. And now he was destined for something so much greater than this world or any sweaty ass-grabbing baboon living on it.

But he braced himself and rolled his shoulders. "Fine, your judgment was impaired at the time, I'll allow you an indiscretion under the circumstances."

"Brother," Castiel's voice went even lower.

Shaking himself free of his anger, Balthazar took a deep breath. "What I have to tell you, Cas… You've been lied to your entire life about what and who you are. Our sister has kept you from your rightful place—"

"Yes, I know. Raphael was kind enough to inform me herself, as she tried to convince me that I should let her take my place on Father's throne."

Balthazar gaped like a scruffy fish. "You know."

"I learned it the hard way, but yes."

"Cas, this is a blessing from Father!" Balthazar entreated, "We can go home. We can take it back! With this power, you can simply knock Raphael out of your way and end the war. Forever."

Castiel sighed, lifting his head and gazing toward the heavens. "I would love to go home and open the gate to that circle, to find our Father has returned and is sitting there already…"

Frustrated, Balthazar dared to grasp Castiel's coat lapels. "Don't you understand? We need to get to it before Raphael."

"She can't," Castiel said calmly, patting Balthazar's shaking hands. "I'm the only one who can. And since I don't have a clue how, it's really academic at this point."

Grunting in annoyance, Balthazar took back his hands and put them through his shaggy hair. "Brother, brother, I can't believe you won't even try. What if you only have to look at it to open it? You could be the key yourself!"

"But I don't know that, and I'm not going to risk Raphael following me." Castiel was firm. "We win this on earth, or we don't win. Raphael will only have earth and six heavens if she succeeds. Father's seat will never be anyone's but His."

"Or yours," Balthazar pleaded.

"…You're asking me to be the new God?" Castiel's eyes went hard. "This line of discussion is over." Castiel turned away from his brother. He was trembling now, and felt slightly ill. Could the pie be upsetting his stomach?

"Brother, you look pale," Balthazar said with gentle concern. "Oh. When was the last time you visited the cache of monster souls?"

Castiel shivered. "Three, maybe four days ago, I believe. I… I don't think I can risk going right now. Raphael will be watching for me. I shall try to manage without."

Balthazar's face tightened. "Cas, you're having withdrawal. You're not going to be fit for battle like this. Please, I can sneak up and grab one or two—"

"No," Castiel barked. "No one can risk it. I will manage this. I am stronger than that. I am… better than that." He recalled Dean's words the night of his confession with painful clarity now. And Sam, he'd said such a thing would never end well.

"Cold turkey, Cas, you can't—"

"Enough, Balthazar!" Cas hissed harshly. "This habit has been a mistake, and I can only blame myself for it. Because of it I, and those I care for, have suffered. It ends now." He broke off, stiffening his body to hide the shaking.

Balthazar stood silently, truly afraid, not just for his brother but himself. He bit his lip, knowing what he said next could make everything worse, but he had little choice. He only hoped he would still be in the realm of those Castiel cared for after.

"One more tiny thing," Balthazar said with a lower voice. "I have bargained away my grace for your rescue."

Castiel's head twitched toward him. "What?"

With a deep, shaky breath, he began. "When Behemoth took you, I gave him the Horn and asked that Raphael spare you." When Castiel's eyes flashed in disbelief, he pressed on. "I was terrified, brother. I couldn't go to you myself, no angel could. But a demon could. I went to Crowley, told him what was happening, asked for his help. He was reluctant, as I expected, so I offered my grace to Hell. It would be fuel enough for him to control his subjects for centuries. He said he would happily take back the Horn, and even rescue you in the process. But he wanted something from you as well. Brother, I didn't know what to do, so I told him there was a way to pull souls from Heaven, that they were pure and the power of a single one was greater than a hundred in Hell."

Castiel's face had gone stone still, his lips white and pinched. "You know of the well of souls. You told him you'd give him those souls."

"I didn't say precisely that, just souls from Heaven." Balthazar's head hung in true sorrow, and a little fear.

Castiel couldn't see what he looked like at the moment – huge and fiery. His brother didn't know that his grace had grown since he'd become aware of his status. Wings had multiplied and colors with no names were sparking within his form. Cas was terrifying and beautiful, and Balthazar was heartbroken that he'd let his brother down.

"I am sorry, Cas, I had to save you."

Castiel inhaled deeply, clenching his fists. "I understand your motive, but it still presents us with an impossible problem. I can't give him those souls, just as I can't let him have your grace. And right now I can't worry about either of those problems, because Raphael and Behemoth will be attacking within hours. Leviathan is being called to help, but how the battle will go is anyone's guess. We are still severely outmatched."

"I may have a weapon to help," Balthazar said swiftly, "I've been searching for the Ark, and I'm sure now that I've its location."

Castiel's eyes widened hopefully. "The contents of the Ark… yes, if you can find it, bring it quickly."

"Of course, brother. There are other weapons in the storage, I'll bring those as well. But the Ark itself would require another angel to release, and I could use the moose- I mean Sam's help. He still has enough trace of angel that it may work."

Castiel knew he couldn't spare the time himself. "Very well. But hurry."

They crossed to the hunters, explained their plans, and Balthazar grabbed Sam for a little trip. A rather surprising trip.

*~*~*~*

Sam's mouth hung open as Balthazar fiddled with the lock on the storage door. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

"Can you see the building? Can you read the sign?" the angel bitched at him, as the lock finally gave.

"Yeah, I fucking see it. It's Castle Storage, my dad's storage building!" Sam shouted.

"Then you know I'm not fucking kidding you. Now help me get this door lifted."

"You're an angel, you're not weak," Sam snorted but lifted the door in one pull.

"And it's angel-proofed as much as I was capable of doing while still inside and the door opened just enough to slide back out under it before it slammed shut. I can lift it but I'd rather avoid having to heal myself of a hernia just at the moment." He strode inside, trembled a bit as he passed under the sigil on the door. "I'm not the only angel who'd love to get their paws on the goodies in here. A veritable Aladdin's cave of dangerous shit like you've never seen."

"Yeah, I get it. But why here? For crying out loud, this is like a neon sign."

"Exactly, dear boy," Balthazar crept through the room, avoiding other traps he'd set. He looked like he was Indy tiptoeing through the Peruvian temple. "Raphael's goons aren't programmed to think this cleverly. Hiding in plain sight, right under their noses, whatever idioms you want to use. Besides, your lovely father had so many protective wards all over the place, and it was just going to waste. It's one of the best guarded places on earth, better than Fort Knox. John Winchester knew his stuff, all right. Why do you think it's been left alone all these years with no one paying fees?" Balthazar smirked at Sam's confused shrug. "Very good wards. The only reason you boys found it is because he wanted you to. And I found it because Cas told me."

Balthazar paused to catch his breath, leaning against shelves filled with random junk. "In fact, with all the extras I added against angels, I'm giving myself a bloody migraine right now. Thus the reason I brought extra muscle." He nodded at Sam's enormous frame.

"Right," Sam rolled his eyes. "You told Cas that you only thought you knew where the Ark was. But you actually knew all along?"

"Well, yes. But the Ark was a very recent acquisition, if that helps to make me look less like a shifty bastard."

"Not really."

Balthazar scowled. "I am loyal to Castiel, do not doubt me there. Here, make yourself useful, would you? That long box there," he pointed at a five-by-two foot wooden box with metal clamps. "Fetch."

He pulled a face, but went. Sam was hesitant, knowing that how right the angel was about John's warding skills. He also wondered he was going to throw his back out lifting the thing. But for something that looked like solid oak and iron, it weighed only as much as a standard suitcase. "Magic?" he asked as he carried it by a leather handle back to Balthazar.

"Indeed, and it will hold virtually any amount. Bigger on the inside, you see." He grinned and pushed himself upright again. "All right, now to pick through the goods before opening the really big box." He clapped his hands together as he surveyed the room, which Sam finally noticed was much fuller than the last time he'd been there. Swords, daggers, wands, goblets, books, enough to fill a small museum, lay in heaps on newer shelving. Balthazar had definitely been busy. And not very tidy.

"Cas said the weapons of Heaven were with him, but they were here all the time, huh?"

"Well, no, actually, this is just one stash. A large portion was kept in a locked dimension in Heaven, which I opened yesterday to retrieve the Horn." He grabbed an axe and lifted the lid of the box, dropping it inside. It disappeared. "Shortly after that, I opened it again and passed out all the weapons to our troops for safe-keeping. And because we are undoubtedly going to be using each and every one of them before the day is over." He continued placing various tools and books in the box until he was satisfied with the collection.

"Now we must find the proper weapons for you and Dean."

"We've got the Colt back, and the demon-killing knife."

"And of course those are proven weapons against angels. Put Sammy in the dunce corner," Balthazar regarded him with disgust then turned to the cage against the wall, which he unlocked. "Hard to believe you were once one of us. Ah, here we go. The lance of St. George for you, I think." He passed the long wooden spear to Sam, who put it into the box, still amazed at the fact it was holding so much. "And this should delight your brother. The flaming sword from the Garden of Eden, once wielded by an angel. Don't worry, the pilot light still works in the proper hands. Should light right up in the hands of someone who's already a flamer."

Sam's brows dropped until his eyes were nearly obscured. He really wished he could afford to beat the hell out of Balthazar. The angel was clearly furious about Dean and Cas. Well, tough shit.

Dropping the sword into the box, Balthazar turned. "Now, Sam, for the grand prize. The Ark of the Covenant." He swept his arm showily toward a huge lump covered with a tarp. "Well, go on."

Sam sighed irritably but lifted the cloth over to reveal the enormous golden case with the two angels atop it. "Wow," he breathed. "It really does like this, huh?" He felt a twinge of guilt for the time he duped Cas with the claim of having found it, and followed that by threatening to kill the angel. Yeah, Cas should've kicked my ass.

"Yes, once in a great while your Hollywood gets something right. Except it won't melt anyone's face off. A mere human couldn't have lifted the lid anyway. See these two?" he indicated the angels. "Jahoel and Zarall, the guardians. Literally, it's them, they've sat here frozen in place for four thousand years. Weirdos."

"Uh, so what do we do?"

"Well you take Z and I'll take J. Get around behind him, that's right. And just smack them upside their lazy heads." At Sam's enormous eyes, Balthazar said, "I'm quite serious." He cuffed Jahoel soundly on the skull. Sam followed suit with Zarall, though he cringed.

Instantly the two angels sprang to life, sloughing off the gold that covered them, and stretching their wings, which then vanished from sight.

"About damned time," Zarall complained as he crawled off the lid. "I mean, I like my beauty sleep, but really."

Jahoel yawned and threw his legs over the side of the box, and regarded the two others in the room. "Hey, Balthazar. Interesting new vessel."

"Yes, believe it or not, a recently defrocked priest. Got into a bit of trouble over choirboys."

"Oh my God," Sam choked.

"Zip it. You take the believers where you find them, and he was still a believer. He just also happened to be a pervert. Which made him all the more appropriate for me. Anyway, welcome back boys, just in time for the Apocalypse, Mark 2."

"Damn it," Zarall muttered. "Why do they always wanna end the world?"

"It's not the humans, Z, it's the big boys."

Zarall lifted his brows. "And this is the second time?"

"In two years, no less."

"Then it's serious this time."

"Oh shut up, and let's open the box, shall we?"

Jahoel slid down from the top. "Everyone take a corner." They all moved into place. "Oh, hey, Samael. Good to see you again."

"Uh, hi," Sam said uncomfortably, digging his fingers underneath the lip of the lid. He vaguely noticed that the angels were identical. Their vessels were three thousand year old twin brothers. Weird.

"Yeah, we'll catch up later," Jahoel nodded. "On three?"

"One," Balthazar counted, "two. Three."

And they all heaved mightily. A hiss of old compressed air shot out all sides, making Sam cough but not the others. They moved the lid aside with a thump, and Zarall peered inside. "Okay, do they need everything?"

"No, the tablets are pretty much useless in this society," Balthazar chuckled wryly. "And manna is horrid even when fresh, let alone jarred for three millennia. What we need is this." He grasped a long staff the thickness of his wrist and about the height of his vessel. "The Rod of Aaron."

Sam's eyes went wide again. "You had the staff of Moses. This is his brother's?"

"Aw, you read your Bible, Sam, that's a good boy, have a biscuit," Balthazar spoke as though petting Sam's head with words. "Okay, everyone. No time to lose."

He snapped them all back to Utah, finding the group of hunters and Castiel with his troops waiting in the desert, about a hundred miles from any town. Weapons were passed around and, in some cases, explained. The other angels greeted their long missing brothers and filled them in on details.

Dean predictably swooned over his cool-as-shit BAMF sword, and practically twirled it like a cheerleader's baton. When Sam pointed this out, Dean flushed red and threatened to smite him. Sam shook his head, the lance slung over his shoulder.

Castiel received Aaron's Rod reverently, nodding to Balthazar in a nearly silent conversation. Dean stopped playing around and watched them. He was getting uneasy with Balthazar around, the angel kept shooting Dean glares of pure hatred, and honestly it felt like actual daggers were pinging off his skin.

Cas held the Rod vertically at arm's length, then spoke a low word of command. It glowed pale blue, and what looked like leaves began to sprout along its length. Wow, that was totally cooler than his sword, it was practically a light saber. He did not pout, not at all. Castiel spoke another word and the Rod returned to normal then shrank down to about the size of a flashlight. Just like a light saber would. Damn it, he was jealous.

Cas put it into his coat pocket. So he wouldn't be using it right away. Must be a secret weapon. How awesome was that? Dean hoped he'd be nearby to see when Cas whipped the rod out and gripped the shaft and it sprang forth into the long, glowing, throbbing HOLY FUCK BATMAN.

Dean almost slapped himself with shame and viciously quashed the desire coursing through his veins. This was a life and death situation, and he was suddenly a horny teenager. One good taste of angel grace and apparently he was ruined for anyone else. This had better end with them winning the war, or he would welcome the rack just to forget everything.

*~*~*~*

While the hunters were admiring their various heavenly weapons, Castiel was checking the bottom of Balthazar's box, making sure there was not any firepower accidentally left behind. He was prepared to declare it empty when his fingers brushed against a small lump of cool metal and what felt to be a cord. Pulling it out, he recognized what it was immediately. How could he not? He'd worn it for months while on his fruitless search for God.

There, in the palm of his hand, was Dean's amulet. The very amulet he'd returned to the hunter before the apocalypse, when he was exhausted and so close to human and losing his faith. The amulet that Dean had thrown away in a motel room hundreds of miles from here, that had no business being in a magical lock box in Castle Storage.

Part of him felt angry—fiercely, bitterly angry—to see the amulet. This was all he was to receive from God? This was God's contribution? But then quiet resignation settled in. Castiel had not really expected God to interfere in this war, not really. He supposed he should be grateful to even receive this token of His esteem.

Shakily, he slipped it over his head and under his shirt, immediately comforted by its slight weight. He could feel the calm assurance of the love Dean had imbued the piece with settle his grace and take the edge off of his craving for souls. They would be able to win this battle, he told himself. They would win, and the world would continue on as it always had before. Dean would have his freedom if not his peace. No matter what Castiel had to do to ensure it.

Chapter Eight>>

*~*~*~*

Author's Notes:

Enochian is ridiculous. The pronunciation is as close as could be determined, as there are two pronunciation systems. The traditional as used on the show is also used here. The words are slightly different that what Castiel translates, due to lack of specific words in the language to being with, but they carry the same intent. Taken from "The Complete Enochian Dictionary" by Donald Laycock and "The Angelic Language" by Aaron Leitch.

The random weapons are mostly made up. But you can read about St. George's lance and the "flaming sword of Eden" at their links.

The Ark of the Covenant contains four things, according to one version – a jar of manna, the Ten Commandments, and Aaron's staff. The staff's description is cobbled together from various traditional versions. The names of the angels come from "The Encyclopedia of Angel" by R.E. Guiley.