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Just because he was an ice skater didn’t mean that he never got cold. For Sam, cold was torture. When he was skating, he could move around enough to keep himself warm, but here, in a cage sunk into the skating rink? Sam huddled in the center of the cage, as far from the metal bars as he could get, and shivered.
If he got out of here, he was going to murder Dean. They were supposed to be a team, dammit, working together to take out their marks. Instead, Dean had taken one look at the paper with their most recent assignment, and then eaten it. “I’m handling this one alone, Sammy. Stay here. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“If it’s too dangerous, how is it not more dangerous for you to go alone?” Sam exploded. “I’m not some snot-nosed kid you have to look out for all the time, I’m the second-most-dangerous assassin in North America!” Dean, obviously, being the most dangerous. They had a perfect record – every target they were assigned was dead, and the cops had no clue who the assassins were. “We’re stronger as a team and you know it.”
“Not this time. Just… stay here, okay? In case I need you to come rescue my ass.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll stay.”
Sam had no intention of obeying that. Dean must have known. The night before they were due to leave, they drank a toast to the mission for luck. Sam went to sleep in his bed. He woke up in this cage.
In Dean’s defense, the cage hadn’t been anywhere near the ice when he put Sam in there. Sam woke up in the cage in a back room of the rink he and Dean trained at for their cover career of being professional ice skaters. He called Dean, left him a profanity-laden message about stabbing his brother in the back, and then sat down to try to keep himself occupied. There was a bucket, a cooler with protein shakes and water, and an extension cord plugged into the wall that Sam could use to keep his phone charged.
At least Dean had given him that much.
He’d been in there for four hours when he heard footsteps coming toward the room. His first instinct, to have a sarcastic remark all ready to go for Dean, died quickly as he realized that there was no way Dean had gone this long without changing his mind if he were going to, or already finished the assignment. This wasn’t Dean. Trapped in the cage, he had no way to hide, and Dean hadn’t left him a weapon.
He sent Dean a text. If I’m dead when you get back, you only have yourself to blame, asshole.
It was possible they didn’t know he was here or who he was, but any hope of that died when the door opened. He recognized the man who walked in. He didn’t know the guy’s name, but the yellow eyes were hard to miss, as was the crimson hood he wore marking him as a high-ranking member of the demon gang. Second-worst case scenario, and that was only because it would take time for the guy’s boss to get here.
Lucifer – there was no way that was his real name, but it was the only one Sam knew for him – wanted Sam for the demon gang since he was born. First John and then Dean took it upon themselves to hide Sam away, becoming assassins in the hunters’ gang instead. Yellow Eyes here wouldn’t think twice – delivering a caged Sam to Lucifer? He’d have everything he could ever want from his boss.
Yellow Eyes took great joy in calling in men to drag the cage out to the ice. They were the ones who melted the ice underneath, until the entire bottom of the cage was sunk into the rink. They left the bucket and the cooler, but the extension cord was now useless. At least they left Sam his phone. He could take pictures to send to Dean.
He’d been on the ice for hours, Yellow Eyes and his boys supposedly standing outside, when Sam’s head exploded in pain and bright lights. The lights resolved into a vision – Dean, alone, taking on Lucifer. Sam had expected that Dean was going to go sniper on this one – it was his preference both on solo missions and with Sam backing him up – but no, Dean had a gun right in Lucifer’s face. When the shot rang out, though, it wasn’t Lucifer who fell. It was Dean. Another of Lucifer’s top lieutenants, Lilith, blew smoke from her gun.
That would explain why Dean hadn’t wanted to let Sam come. Asshat. He could have told Sam. Sam still wouldn’t have stayed behind, but at least he’d understand why Dean was so determined to leave him behind.
When the door opened, Sam didn’t bother to look up. He knew. Yellow Eyes was here to taunt Sam about his brother’s death.
When the cage door opened, Sam did look up. He might be able to do something – at least get himself killed instead of being handed to Lucifer alive. He took off, shoulder lowered like he’d seen football players do on TV. Between that and his size, it should at least surprise the man opening the cage.
The man took the hit, but held on and twisted so that Sam was the one who ended up with his back on the ice. Just what he needed. “Sam Winchester. Listen to me. You need to get your brother out of Lucifer’s bunker.”
“Believe me, I’d love to, but he’s dead.” Lead settled in Sam’s stomach when he said it aloud.
“Not yet, but he will be if you don’t convince him to abandon the mission and get out. My people are about to destroy the bunker, and everyone inside.”
“No, he’s dead. Lilith shot him.”
The man drew back, squinting and tilting his head. “Our mole inside would have told me if my mission were no longer necessary. How do you know he’s dead?”
“I…” Sam hesitated. Did he know? Getting a vision of the future sounded crazy, but then, did getting a vision of his brother’s death in real time sound any less nuts? “Just a feeling, I guess. If you have someone inside, I might as well go with you and see. Who even are you? What happened to Yellow Eyes?”
“We have a mole in Lucifer’s gang, Ruby. She got word to her contact that Dean Winchester had been spotted sneaking in, and my superior sent me to find you. I killed the guards around you, including the leader, the one you call Yellow Eyes. You can call me Castiel. I’m an Angel.” Castiel got to his feet and offered Sam a hand.
Sam took it without hesitation. Dean didn’t believe the Angels existed, but Sam had always believed the whispers that they were out there working against the demons and various other gangs – including, at times, the hunters. More skeptical members of the gang called some of the freak accidents and weird happenings fate. Sam, and others like him, believed that if it was fate, then the angels were agents of fate.
The hardest part of getting Dean out of Lucifer’s compound was getting to him. Castiel handed Sam off to Ruby, reminding her to get out with the brothers. Sam’s first instinct was to hunch down, try to make himself appear smaller, but Ruby shook her head at him. “You always do that. They look for you doing that. Stand tall, advertise how big you are, and no one will believe it’s you. Here.” She handed him a beanie to cover his hair with. Sam hesitated, but decided to follow her advice – if the Angels trusted her, she probably wasn’t all bad.
It worked. Only one person even looked twice at them, and Ruby killed her quickly. “Been wanting to kill that bitch for years now anyway. Even before I turned.”
“Why did you?” It was dangerous to turn against Lucifer. It was dangerous to even be suspected of turning against Lucifer. Either she was getting paid a lot of money, or there was something even more important.
“Why does anyone turn? Love. Went and fell for an Angel, and she was more stubborn about her loyalties than I was.”
“Fair enough, then.” Sam followed Ruby the rest of the way to where she thought they’d find Dean.
She was right. Dean jumped when he saw Sam – no disguise would keep Dean from recognizing him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Checked your phone lately? Yellow Eyes had me wrapped up nice and pretty to deliver to Lucifer, thanks to you.” Dean tried to protest, but Sam cut him off. “Angels busted me out to haul your ass out of here before they burn down the whole thing.”
“I got a job to do.”
“And the Angels are gonna do it,” Ruby promised. “You, me, and Sam need to get out of here. If we’re not out in…” she checked her watch, “fifteen minutes, they’re gonna do it with the three of us still in here, and you’re cute but I’m not dying for you. Come on. If the Angels don’t come through, we can come back in.”
“I will die for you, Dean. You don’t leave, I don’t either. Angels come through, we both die.” Sam crossed his arms. “What’ll it be?”
There was much eyerolling and scoffing and posturing, but in the end, Dean left with Sam and Ruby. The second they were out, Ruby had her phone out. “Anna? We’re good. Go.” She hung up and grabbed Sam’s hand. “RUN!”
They made it far enough away when the building behind them exploded. Sam didn’t want to know how the Angels had gotten the planes. He just stood there watching. Castiel came to find them. “I’m glad to see the three of you made it out. Ruby, Anna’s waiting for you at the bar. Thank you for your help.” Ruby took off, leaving Castiel staring at Sam and Dean. “I suppose you’re wondering why we delayed our strike for you.”
“Not really. All I care about right now is getting into that rubble and making sure that bastard Lucifer is dead,” Dean snarled. “Thanks for saving Sammy, but I need to make sure my job’s done.”
Castiel and Sam let him walk away. “Sorry about him,” Sam said eventually. “Thanks for the rescue, and for giving me the chance to save Dean’s ridiculous stubborn ass. Is this the part where you tell me what the strings are?”
“Yes. Nobody liked the Demons, but there are many gangs who are likely to be concerned enough about the Angels’ power to attempt to band together against us. The Hunters are the gang most likely to be a problem for us. You and Dean will tell your associates how we saved you, and that we have no intention of going after any other gangs unless provoked.”
“Fair enough. Not like you’re asking us to lie. Are you?”
“No.”