Chapter Text
When Angie opened her eyes, lights burned at her retinas. She felt Sam’s fingers tense briefly, against the back of her hand. As her pupils shrank quickly, adjusting to the light, her gaze was greeted by a sandy, grey-coloured stone wall. It all seemed too shiny and bright to be real. Cracks in the bricks appeared to glow faintly.
They appeared to be standing in a corridor. It reminded Angie of a castle, with the carved stone work and vaulted ceilings. Rooms joined the walkway, up and down the corridor, as far as she could see.
“Is everyone all here?” Angie gritted for an answer. Looking around everyone still had all their limbs attached. She counted their journey as a good one. She let go of both Cas and Sam’s hands and lend against the wall.
“We all know what we’re doing?” Dean was in commander mode. Noticing he was still holding Cas’ fingers made him falter. His hand shot away suddenly.
Angie was way out of her comfort zone, her wings twitched nervously behind her as she twisted her fingers.
Dean glanced around at everyone, lingering over Cas for a fraction longer.
Cas’ voice filled the silence. “We will meet you at the Gate when you are done, Sam.” Sam smiled in response.
“Sam.” Dean mumbled before he disappeared. Dean grasped his shoulder supportively.
Sam raised his head.
“Say hi to them for me.” Dean forced out a smile but Sam could see the hurt in behind it.
Sam pulled his brother into a warm bear-hug.
He stepped back, shooting one last look at his brother before vanishing.
Cas turned as if he were about to disappear to. “Cas.” Dean spoke.
“Cas, …I.” His words seemed to choke in his throat. “Just. Don’t do anything stupid. Okay? Please.” Dean hung his head at his jumble of words.
“I’ll meet you by the Gates. Stay out of trouble.” Cas disappear before Angie could say anything in response.
Dean
The next time Dean opened his eyes he was standing in a vast room. It reminded him an aircraft carrier, it was easy to imagine planes moving in and out. The change in size made is ears pop with the pressure. The room was lit with bright white lights from above, creating shadows on the array of objects of all shapes and sizes which spiralled up the walls. An emporium of every object imaginable. Some Dean recognised, some he didn’t. Wooden boxes with metal hinges, thick glass bottles and filling cabinets. A mix of new and old, all stacked high together. The far all was completely covered with Angel blades. This must be the weapons vault Cas was on about, Dean thought.
Dean wandered up and down rows and rows of what could only be described as stuff. He was taken aback by the sheer scale of everything.
He was just about beginning to think that the Grail wasn’t even in here when something shiny, at the other end of the isle, caught Dean’s attention. It was a simple glass dome, containing a single feather. It was golden brown in colour, which faded to brunette towards the tip. In front stood a brass plaque, engraved in a language Dean couldn’t read. He made a guess that it was Enochian.
The dome was surrounded by several others, each containing a feather and a brass label.
Something about the feather compelled him to touch it, almost like it was the right thing to do. His mind blanked for a moment as he reached out to run his finger of the top of the glass. A spark cracked from the top and Dean withdrew his hand, backing away. He turned and hurried off, sucking at his burnt finger tips. He didn’t want to stick around to find out what he’s just done.
Dean had managed to wander into what he thought was the centre of the room, avoiding touching anything else. A round office table stood in between a set of metal storage shells and a stack of crates. He edged closer, scanning the room for signs of any traps. On the table rested a small trophy or goblet. It was a dull gold in colour, it must have been bright once, but over time the surface tarnished. The neck was hammered smooth and an intricately carved pattern band decorated the base. Cas had given no description of what the Grail actually looked like. Dean reached out tentatively with the back of his hand. Dean zoned out from everything else in the room, having the same feeling to touch it. His skin brushed against the cool surface, he expected another shock. When none came, Dean grabbed tightly with his fingers, then turned and dashed off back the way he came.
Sam
Sam pictured Bobby’s face in his mind. His old cap and his scruffy beard. The last time Sam had seen him was after he’d broken Bobby’s soul out of Hell.
Sam found himself in what looked like Bobby’s living room. He wasn’t sure if this was actually Bobby’s place or just some heavenly imitation. It pretty much same as the last time he’d seen it yet there were no guns, no jars of salt or knifes dotted about the place. It was just an old house filled with normal stuff. It had been almost a year since Bobby had died; it seemed strange to be back in the junk yard again.
He glanced around but saw now since of activity. Sam picked up a photo on the mantel piece. There was one of him and his brother with Bobby stood in the middle. The three of them smiling.
He heard giggling from the kitchen, multiple voices. One deep, rustic voice which could only be Bobby’s. He set the photo back on the fire place and shifted towards the kitchen. He pushed on the door and it swung open.
Bobby was sitting at his kitchen table, drinking a pint of beer. He looked slimmer in the face, healthier and much younger than when he had passed. A woman sat opposite. Sam had seen her photo before. She was Karen Singer, Bobby’s wife. A bigger man sat with his back to Sam, but he could recognise those broad shoulders anywhere. It was John. Mary sat next to Bobby. Her blonde curls fell onto her shoulders. He remembered her face from their time travelling trip with Anna. She was so beautiful. Sam smiled at the thought of them finally being together.
Sam stepped first into the kitchen, slowly at first. Bobby glanced up, away from his wife’s face. He was lost for words to see Sam’s face.
“Sam.” Mary gasped. John whipped his head round to look at his son. Mary shot up out of her chair, without stopping to think, and pull Sam into a hug. Sam rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Mom.” He mumbled.
Bobby and John stood up quickly after her. Karen joined them, standing at Bobby’s side.
“Sammy…” John spoke up. Sam lifted his chin off his mother’s head to look at him as John wrapped his strong arms around them both.
“What you doing here, idjit?” Bobby’s eyes were still wide with worry.
“I’m not dead. I have no idea how this all works but I’m not dead.”
John loosened his grip on Sam’s shoulders and Mary’s arms slid from around his middle.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a lot of time. One of Cas’ brothers kind of took over Heaven and kicked all the Angels onto Earth. Long story short, we need to know if souls are still getting in.”
“We’re dead, not blind. We can see what’s been going on.” It was good to hear Bobby’s voice again, he hadn’t changed a bit.
“You should have been here when it happened. It was horrible, Sammy. The screams. The whole of Heaven rattled.” Mary screwed her face up in horror.
“I’ve seen human souls entering.” John spoke. “More than usual, actually.” “Good! That would have been one hell of Ghost problem otherwise.”
John’s soul had made it out of Hell. He was in Heaven, with Bobby and Mary.
Seeing his family together, happy, made Sam think. Why was he bothering anymore? He could be here with his parents, with bobby. Why was he still fighting?
Cas
Cas stepped into Naomi’s ‘office’, nothing had changed since he’d been here last. He couldn’t bare to think about it. It was beyond painful. He could still remember Metatron’s voice and the look on his face as he removed his Grace. Anger burnt within Cas.
He crept forward, further into the room. Blood still pooled on her desk. Castiel recalled the sight of Naomi’s glass eyes staring back at him. He shuddered.
He jumped at the sound of feathers behind him.
“Castiel.” Metatron spat. His voice made the hairs of Cas’ neck stand up on end. “Now what do we have here.” Castiel’s shoulders tensed and he balled his fists up in anger.
Metatron started to circle Cas, inching closer in every step. Castiel remained still. His eyes flicking around the room, anywhere but Metatron.
“When I said find me, this isn’t meant.” Metatron sounded so calm as he stepped dead in front of Insanity danced in Metatron’s eyes and that dirty smile of his.Cas remained silent
He turned to face Cas, his smile faded at his silence. “I told you all of this doesn’t concern you anymore, Remember.”Castiel blinked as Metatron swung his fisted hand onto the ridge of his cheek. The side of his face hit the cold, hard floor making him feel dizzy. He tried his best to sit himself up, but his arms were shaky. Blood poured from Castiel’s nose and onto his chin. He spat it out as it collected on lips.He grabbed at Cas’jaw, forcing up to look at him.
“W-why are you doing this?!” Castiel’s voice cracked.
Metatron’s fingers tightened around Cas’ chin. “Because I will not bow down anymore.To Humanity.To the Archangels. Not even to God. I am an Angel, the last Angel, and you are nothing.”
Metatron’svicelike fingers squeezed around Castiel’s throat as he lifted him clean off the floor. Cas’ face was filled with panic,his feet hovered above the ground and his bloody fingers clawed at Metatron’s grip.Cas could feel his neck bruising under the pressure.
The clear vial around Metatron’s neck reflected in the light and caught Cas’ eye. He reached out as far as he could so the tips of Castiel’s fingers barely brushed against it. His Grace bubbled against the inside of the glass, calling out for him like it could sense him.
Metatron tightened his grasp on Cas’ neck, squeezing more until he let out a muffled cry.
Castiel had come so close, his Grace, his whole being was within his reach. He felt defeated. He wasn’t good enough.