Chapter Text
They don’t trust her; well, maybe there is a sliver of trust. So when she called asking if she could stop over, they were hesitant. Typically their interactions are end of the world, drastic change in the powers that control the universe. As far as they know, there is no big bad right now. None of their loved ones are in any more danger than a typical hunter. Jack is running things now; he brought several loved ones back, mom and dad chose to stay in heaven. Castiel was given a power upgrade (not archangel level since Jack decided no one should have that amount of power again). Still, he is one of the most powerful angels in existence right now. Not having contact with Jack has been especially hard on Dean; he considers him his child. Even so, they understand, with so few angels, Jack has decided to remain in heaven to keep the place powered. He is working on creating more angels, but surprisingly it's a slow process. Sam groaned at all the crude jokes Dean made about Jack repopulating the angels.
Right on time, she knocked, announcing her presence on the heavy bunker door. Knowing she is always punctual, they were right there, ready to let her inside.
“Hello boys,” she glides inside gracefully, moving towards each with an embrace and light kiss on the cheek. Sam nods as he hugs her back while Dean rolls his eyes at the display of affection.
“Soooo, how are you both? You look healthy,” she eyes them each in a playful, seductive manner.
Dean sighs, “Rowena, how many times do I have to tell you I’m taken? Now, what do you want?”
“Oooh, right to it, no foreplay, I miss the arguments, the fight you used to put forth,” at their glares, she sumps her shoulders, “Oh, alright, fine, you are no fun, I have a proposition for you.”
Both brothers' eyebrows raise; they have made many deals with this witch over the years. Some have worked out for them, and others have blown up in their faces. Neither is willing to speak first and instead crosses their arms over their chest, waiting for her to speak.
She huffs, they used to be so much more fun, seems aging does make some impatient, “You know gentleman would offer a lady a chair and beverage,”
Dean isn't fazed, he knows her routine, but Sam, the ever polite one, offers her a seat before leaving the room to return with a can of soda.
She takes the can from him, eying it as though it is dirty water, “Well, it isn't the level of refinement I’m accustomed to, but the sentiment is appreciated.”
“Rowena, what is this about?” Sam asks as he sits next to her, his patience running out.
Her face lights up in a smile; Dean has always sworn she has a soft spot for Sam. He thinks it's why she readily agrees to train him at times.
“I have information; with it, you could use it to protect vast amounts of people or let them fall to their demise.”
Dean scoffs, “Dramatic much, and what do you want for the information?”
“Oh, not much, just a tincy wincy little favor,” she holds her thumb and forefinger apart, slightly shrugging at the same time.
Dean remains stoic, “What favor?”
“That’s not decided yet,” she replies.
“You expect us to agree to owe you a favor in the future. Do we look stupid?” At her raised eyebrow, Dean’s face scrunches up in annoyance, “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
She sighs as though she is giving up a vast treasure, “Alright, how about this future favor couldn’t be used to hurt you or others?”
Sam and Dean glace at each other, contemplating, “That would include us providing or obtaining any tools for you that could be used to hurt others.”
Scoffing, she rolls her eyes, “Yes, yes, find do we have an agreement?”
Sam stands up looks at Dean before cocking his head, indicating they move to the other side of the room, “Give us a moment to talk this over.”
They don’t wait for her response before moving out of her hearing range, whispering. Sam says, “This could be a trick, but I can’t see how she could use this against us negatively.”
“She’s definitely up to something; she doesn’t breathe unless she’s plotting something, but I agree I don’t think this could bite us back. I hate to admit it, but she has cut back on the evil witchy stuff over the years, but I think we should get something out of this. A few more lessons for you would be helpful.” Dean suggested receiving a nod in return, knowing Sam enjoys his witchy training sessions.
The move back to her, “We have a counteroffer,” Sam continues speaking even though he can see she wants to butt in, “You get your favor that you can’t use to hurt others in any way. So we get the information, but I also get five more training sessions.”
“Two sessions,” she replies.
“Four.”
“Three, that's final,” she counters.
Sam smirks thinks to himself that the exact amount he expected, not knowing she would have given five just because she enjoys their time together. They shake hands, making an agreement both Sam and Rowena are able to feel the magic tingle in their palms, sealing the deal.
“So what’s this oh so important information,” Dean asks.
“Well, I was minding my business, strolling along when I overheard a conversation between my baby boy and his underlings. You know my son, the king of hell,” Both brothers sigh, frustrated hearing her pretend to be proud of him while at the same time appearing to take some form of credit for his success.
“We know you mention it every time you talk about him, but I remember you not being so happy when he was resurrected and dethroned you,” Dean says thick with attitude knowing it is a sore spot for her.
She scowls at him for a moment before covering it with a gigantic smile, “Let's move on, anyways, I overheard ‘accidentally of course’ him order his pathetic underlings, you know when I ran the place, my worshipers were of a better stock,” Sam clears his throat in an effort to move her back on track.
She rolls her eyes, “Anyways, he is planning on taking over the FBI, placing a demon in every department with every team and each level of authority. Now how is that for juicy info?”
Dean wishes he could say he doesn’t care or that it's not a big deal to burst her bubble, but he can’t. Demons taking over the FBI could be disastrous, not just for hunters that avoid the Fed like the plague but the entire country. As much as he hates to admit it, the Feds do essential work, or at least some do. Not that he will praise her or let her know how much this worries him.
Sam, knowing his brother takes over, gritting his teeth, thanks her for the information before basically pushing her out the bunker promising to call soon about the lessons. She huffs, complaining about the treatment as the door is shut in her face.
Sam makes his way back to his brother, knowing he is just as worried, “What are we going to do? We can’t just let this happen.”
“I agree, those asshats may be annoying when they are chasing us, but someone has to hunt the human monsters. I’m gonna call Cas, then we will make a plan.”
Over the next few weeks, the country is in a country-wide panic. News reports of entire FBI teams missing for anywhere between hours to days at a time with no memory of where they have been. They are taken from their homes during the night only to return, with no evidence of where they have been or how they were taken. For some of the people, they return drastically healthier, and sadly for others, they are found dead in their beds. Strangely some of the dead bodies' autopsies show that the person had been dead for longer than they were missing with injuries that no one noticed. Others are found decapitated or with a silver bullet to the heart. Each dead agent returned is later dug up, and their remains burned, again with no witness even with officers staking out their graves. The bureau is baffled and maintains their stance that they are not hiding anything or in any way involved. The conspiracy theories range from the government to other countries trying to take over all the way to aliens abducting them.
The truth is that the Winchesters have been non-stop busy. With Castiel and Charlie's help, they have been taking entire teams or groups of ten at a time, checking for possession or other monsters. So far, thirty demons have been found, with sixteen of them newly possessed just since they have started cleaning out the feds. They exorcise any demons they discover, and Castiel checks the shapeshifter, vamps, and werewolves' memories. If they are not hurting others, then they are allowed to live. The ones hurting humans are killed, and later their remains are destroyed. Of course, they would destroy them right away instead of returning them if they didn’t want to give their families closure. The human and dispossessed are then warded against possession. With the help of Benny and several other hunter tattoo artist, it only takes a few hours.
With the help of magic, they can hide the warding. Otherwise, they could have their newly discovered tattoo removed when they get home. They use white ink mixed with silver and ingredients to prevent werewolf infections. Castiel has also been treating any health issues, his power levels not even noticeably affected.
During the day, when they are not abducting others and tattooing them against their will, they are burning bodies or warding the FBI headquarter buildings one floor at a time. It's a long process and will take several more weeks.
Seven agents wake up, confused and disoriented, each tied to a chair in a large room. The walls are made of stone, the lighting is overhead fluorescent bright, even with covers to block some of the effects. On the floor are strange occult symbols under each team member's chair. There are no windows and one door that looks made of metal.
JJ groans, “So it's our turn, everyone, ok?”
Around the room, others groan while blinking and attempting to move their arms despite the restraints except for Prentiss, who is enraged growling.
Three men enter the room, “Oh, we got a live one here,” the middle height one says before throwing something liquid in Prentiss’s face causing her to scream out in agony.
“Stop.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Please don’t hurt her.”
Several shout out, unable to defend her physically.
The one that threw what most likely is acid turns towards Rossi next, “This is just holy water won't hurt you unless you are devils spawn.” Then, he dumps some on Rossi's head, causing his teammates to scream until they notice no reaction from Rossi.
“See, won’t hurt him; it's water,” then he pores some directly into his mouth before again tossing some on Prentiss again, drawing out a painfilled scream.
Condescendingly, he points to himself, “Human,” then points to Prentiss, “Demon.” All they can do is stare while Prentiss is thrashing as steam is rising from her bubbling, sizzling face.
“Dean, you don’t have to be so rude. They don’t know and won’t remember anyway,” a taller man with long shaggy hair says, giving them a sympathetic smile.
“That’s exactly why I don’t have to care about their feelings, they won’t remember this anyway, and it's not like we are not going to try and save their friend,” the one that was called Dean says.
“How are you going to save her and save her from what?” Hotch asks in a calm tone.
Dean turns towards him. Apparently, the rebuke from the other man alters his behavior, no matter what his defense was because his voice is softer, “She is possessed by a demon; we are going to exorcise it.”
“Demons are not real,” Morgan says.
“Oh, they are real, watch her face,” He waited until they all looked towards Prentiss, who is now snarling, then said, “Christo,” her eyes turn completely black as she flinches back in pain.
“You see, invoking the name of Christ in Latin will cause a Demon pain, and to reveal themselves, it wouldn’t affect any of you.” He then steps in front of them, repeating the same word, proving that it doesn’t affect them.
“Ok, Dean, that’s enough; we don’t need to make believers out of them. Let's get this done. We are all tired,” the taller one says.
What follows next is a terrifying display that they will never forget, that is, if any of them would be allowed to keep their memories. By memory, the tall, shaggy-haired one recites a series of Latin that none of them have heard before. Throughout, Prentiss thrashes, throws her head around, shouts, but they can’t hear her. It's as though she has been muted even though they could hear her previously. Finally, at the end, her head is thrown back, and black smoke rushes out of her mouth, shocking the entire team. Her body slumps down, hair covering her face tucked down against her chest.
“Cas, you want to check her,” that is when the shortest one steps up to her. He is wearing a trench coat, with a suit, tie, and button-down shirt underneath. He places his hand on her head, a bright light envelops his hand.
“She is healed now. She was possessed starting last week and had minor injuries; she is a good person,” the trenchcoat man says with a warm smile. He gently lifts her face moves her hair to the side before telling her everything will be okay. The team watches the display of love awed.
Garcia, with tears running down her face in a choked sob, says, “Thank you, she really is a good person, and we love her so much.”
“Well, let's see if the rest of you are good people too,” Dean says. Hearing they will be judged caused Reid to flinch back; he has been quiet this entire time.
Cas moves towards Garcia notices her fear; he says, “It's ok, you don’t need to be afraid, as long as you are not purposely hurting others.” Garcia relaxes, reassured before he places his hand on her hand. This time, no glow comes out of his hand, making them all wonder why.
The warm smile returns to Cas's face, “She is human and is also a good person, beautiful on the inside just as she is on the outside.”
Dean rolls his eyes, “He has been trying to get in touch with his emotions more and expressing them, ignore his mushiness. True or not, it's a bit much sometimes.”
Cas turns his head to the side, showing confusion, “Dean, you don’t complain about my mushiness in bed when I’m expressing my emotions then. Should I just stop if it annoys you?” Everyone on the team gasps and avoids eye contact, awkwardness becoming thick.
Dean’s back becomes rigid while the shaggy-haired one laughs silently. “No, no, now Cas, let's not be too hasty; I was only joking; I love, love, that you express your emotions. I promise I will never mock or complain about it again.” Morgan fights against his strong urge to make the whip-slashing sound effect to mock the groveling man. Everyone notices the satisfied smirk on Cas’s face and knows his threat isn’t real.
Cas makes his way around the room, placing his hand on them, announcing they are human before moving on to the next. When he gets to Rossi, his hand glows, causing everyone to panic. “This one is human. He needs to change his diet, though. He was only months away from a severe heart attack, your arteries are now clear, but you have treated your body poorly for years,” he says, directing the last part towards Rossi.
Rossi, dumbfounded, looks towards this man. He doesn’t know how but he knows this man somehow is telling the truth. He can feel a difference in his body; he feel better than he has in years, “Are you an angel?”
Cas responds, “Yes, I’m an angel of the lord, well I follow the new lord now,” confusing them all.
“What?” Rossi asks, his tone conveying his confusion.
“The lord that created me and the universe has been destroyed; he was unfit, he abandoned his creation. There is a new God even though he prefers if you use his name, Jack, he is our son,” he says, nodding towards Dean, completely confounding them all.
“It's ok, you won’t remember any of this anyways,” the Shaggy-haired one says.
Not knowing how to respond, Rossi stutters, “Well, thank you.”
“You are welcome, David Rossi,” Cas responds before he steps up to the last one of the team.
He places his hand on Spencer's head, “Dean, we have a problem.”
Dean and shaggy hair face becomes stone, “What is he?” His voice is so cold it scares the rest of the team.
“He’s a good person; please try again. You will see, he is good,” Garcia begs.
“I can’t heal him. He is in withdrawal,” Cas says, causing the rest of the team to either gasp, cry or close their eyes and look down in shame.
Dean and shaggy hair’s shoulders relax, “Is that all, another druggie, so we will process the rest and wait for him to detox, just like all the other crack heads.”
“No, you don’t understand, he is not a what you call a druggie, yes he will have to detox, but he is not completely a drug addict by choice.”
While he is saying this, Reid keeps his head down in shame. His body is shaking not only from withdrawal but also because he is repeatedly sobbing, saying, “I didn’t want it.”
Cas gently lifts his face smiles softly, “Shh, I know, you didn’t, we will help you. I hear your soul crying out of help.”
Reid feels, for the first time in a long time, hope. He has tried to quit on his own so many times and failed. He hates what he has become, how he treats his loved ones, his shame has even stopped him from writing to his mother.
Castiel, able to read his thoughts, leans close his ear whispers, “I hear your pain, we will help you, and when we are done, I will heal your mother. You have earned this blessing for her.” No one hears his promise, and typically he wouldn't make such a promise, but his man is remarkable. Reid doesn’t understand and isn’t sure he even believes this man but sobs harder now. The possibility of his mother being healed brings him more joy than he ever remembers experiencing.
“So, what is his issue then?” Dean questions impatiently.
Castiel turns towards the rest of the team, “You all have failed him. He is fighting, struggling, and yet none of you have helped him. He will deny it and defend you, but deep down, he knows you were aware of his drug dependency and didn’t help him. You will all have to work to restore his faith and trust in you.” The team takes the rebuke, knowing they deserve it. They have watched for months as Spencer fights and yet haven't helped him, making excuses about protecting his job to themselves.
“Cas, I still don’t understand. What makes him any different than any of the other drug addicts we have come across these last few weeks,” Shaggy hair asks.
“First, he didn’t choose to start his dependency on the substance. It was forced on him by a criminal. Heavily additive Dilaudid was forced on him several times a day over a period of days while he was tortured. And secondly, because of what he is, his memory and theirs shouldn’t be altered. He will need them to remember this. He will need their support and guidance over the years.”
“What is he?” Dean yells.
“He is a righteous man, just like you,” Dean steps back in shock.
“What does that mean for him?”
“Just as the prophets have others that will take over if they die, he will take over as the righteous man if you die. You are the righteous man. He is a righteous man.”
“OoooK, well, other than the hell bit, it's an easy gig, so unless I die, he doesn’t have to do anything, right?”
“Correct, there are only two righteous men alive at any one time, in case you are needed, which clearly isn't often. When one dies, another will be born. Because of this, though, we can’t detox him, process them and send them away with no memories. He will wake up back where he was feeling alone, unloved, with no support, and return to the drugs destroying himself. He deserves better; being a righteous man proves he deserves better, or he wouldn’t be one. Do you understand? We will have to allow them to keep their memories so they can do what they should have been doing before, taking care of their family member.” The rest of the team sit there in shock, not understanding, feeling guilty, and not sure if they believe any of this righteous man business.
Dean nods, “Ok, Cas, I trust you. The rest of you chose do you want to stay with him while he detoxes or not? Cas can’t force a detox.”
“You don’t have to,” Reid whispers, not wanting them to see the mess he will become. Everyone responds at once, all agreeing to stay with him. They refuse to abandon him again. Reid keeps his head down in shame.
“Alright, let's get them in a more comfortable setting,” Shaggy hair says.
“You will all behave. If there is any struggling or fighting, we will separate you, do you understand?” Dean asks them, they all agree to behave.
The three men help them out of the restraints. One moves the help Reid stand up but is intercepted by Morgan, “I’ll carry him. He’s my brother; I failed him.” Hotch helps Prentiss; she is exhausted from the exorcism. They follow the men down several hallways until they come to a large room with several beds; it looks like a barracks.
“You all decide, does it bother you to stay together, or do you want separate for the ladies?” Dean asks. All three ladies insist on staying with the men. They have shared hotel rooms with all of them at one point or another.
Dean points to JJ, “You get everyone’s sizes and a list of what they prefer for toiletries. Detox takes several days, so you can't stay in those clothes.” He hands her a pad of paper and a pen.
Everyone picks a bed close to where Spencer was placed by Morgan. He is lying on his side, hugging himself. Garcia slides in behind him, wraps her arms around him, and holds him as he continues to sob. They can’t hear what she is whispering to him but knowing her, it's something along the lines of apologies and how much he is loved.
JJ gets the list done and brings it to Dean. She had to ask the other guys for Spencer's information; he was too upset to have a conversation. Shaggy hair man tells Cas, “Get at least five sets of clothes for each and ten for Reid; detox is messy. Also, get cleaning supplies for the floors, bathrooms, and multiple sets of sheets, towels, blankets.” The team is curious; it sounds as though he speaks from experience, but none of them are willing to ask. The three men leave the room, allowing them to get settled.