entrancelogs | if i'm going to scale the highest wall

Entry tags:

if i'm going to scale the highest wall

Who: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Where: The Resistance hideout
When: September 2nd
Rating: PG-13 for Dean's language
Summary: It's about time for Castiel to get a look at the Resistance's secret hideout.
The Story:
It's been quiet. Too quiet.

People have been disappearing at a surprising rate, and while Castiel hasn't been here long enough (that he can remember) to know if that's normal, the general malaise that seems to have fallen upon the mansion speaks for itself. He's heard a few people mention disappearances on his phone, when he bothers to check it, though the only one that's personally affected him is Balthazar's.

But without much to do, he's been dwelling on it. More than he should. He's already discussed it with Gabriel, though he doesn't know that it helped either of them to talk about it. Castiel, against all reason, finds himself hoping that Balthazar will return. He has no idea if he can put things right, or if he even deserves to try, but...

Without any "event" to focus on, there's nowhere else to turn his attention. According to what he's been told, there should be one going on this weekend, and while he should be relieved for the lack of it, he's essentially left with nothing to do.

After he does his patrols for the fifth time that day, Castiel decides to fall back on his favorite pastime: dropping in on Dean. Ever since their conversation after Dean's death, Castiel's been keeping an extra-close eye on him. Not that there's been any real danger, but he's stubborn to a fault sometimes, and he'd made his point when they'd talked, which was that Dean could continue on in his reckless way, but Castiel would be there to see to it that he didn't get himself killed again.

So without any warning, there he is, appearing with a flutter of feathers in the middle of Dean's bedroom. This time, though, it isn't so much to check in on Dean. In all honesty, he's actually bored.

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Castiel's successfully pulled the sandwich out of its ziploc bag and is about to take a bite when Dean drops that tidbit of information. Not so much a tidbit as an anvil dropping down from the sky, though only in a world created by the mind of Fred Jones.

Nonetheless, Castiel imagines that's what it feels like, and he slowly lowers the sandwich onto the table as he stares at Dean, who's behaving far too casually about all of this. This isn't the first time that's it's come out that Dean has just so happened to forget to mention something to him. Castiel realizes there's plenty that he's forgotten or missed out on, but honestly...

"Cured him? How would you cure a demon?"

He's never heard of such a thing. Demons are corrupted to the core, beyond the point of saving, and so the very idea is ludicrous. But Dean doesn't seem to be joking. Castiel won't be taking a single bite of his food until he gets an actual explanation.

Dean takes the time to smile wide and smug around the staggering amount of sandwich in his mouth. His intention to be an enigmatic douche about it all, though, goes right out the window when Cas puts down his own sandwich and seems to forget about it's existence. Eyes roll as he chews, and he flops his down onto the table. Dusts his hands off, and settles back in his chair. One hand gestures toward Cas's food.

"You eat, I'll talk." He tilts his head, that's the deal, and then he's plowing on. "So, we've got this place back home- this... bunker. It's a long story, but anyway, it was inhabited by these super intelligent... cult-y legacy academic hunters called the Men of Letters. We found some footage of some experiments they performed on demons. The long and short of it? There's a ritual. You can cure a demon. It's a pain in the ass, but it's possible."

Castiel has no idea why Dean's so invested in whether or not he eats. It's not as if Dean made these sandwiches and therefore wants them to be eaten as some display of respect. The closet handed them out, so no feelings will truly be hurt if it goes uneaten.

But Dean is stubborn to a fault, which means that he'll stick to his word about not explaining unless Castiel takes at least a few bites. So he picks up the sandwich again, working on it while he listens to Dean's overdue explanation.

It seems that Castiel missed quite a lot while he'd been slave to Naomi's brainwashing. A bunker? Some mysterious group of academic hunters? A demon cure? How could it be that some humans discovered this, while it had been unknown to angels? And why is that they're only learning about this now?

"You're certain," he says, meeting Dean's eyes with a searching look because it still sounds too good to be true. "What's the ritual? What does it require?" It's not something Castiel had even sensed during his interaction with Crowley, but then again, he hadn't been looking for anything. He hadn't thought to. And frankly, Crowley hadn't seemed all that different from usual, save for the fact that he'd unnecessarily saved Castiel from some hellhounds (that he definitely could have managed on his own). Crowley could have easily done that for gloating reasons, so Castiel's not convinced.

If Dean made those sandwiches, he wouldn't need Cas to eat them as a display of respect- Cas would do it of his own free will and he would make awesome sounds because they would be that good and Dean would get the ego boost his cooking skills frequently require of their own merit because he's an awesome goddamn cook and don't your forget it. As it stands, his agenda is a lot less self-serving than that for once.

"Damn positive. It was one of the trials to close the gate." Which Cas also doesn't know jack about, if memory serves correctly. At least, not all the details of it- he'd been keeping things pretty hush-hush ever since Cas brought down Samandriel in that fishy fucking rescue mission. All that's off the table now, though- Cas won't remembers it when he goes back home to a life of Biggerson's and Dean trusts him impeccably with this shit here in his right mind. "Pretty simple, actually. Just some sacred ground and a couple of vials of purified blood. Jab one in a demon's neck every hour on the hour and you've got yourself a handy Demon chicken soup for the soul."

He takes a pointed bite of his own sandwich, proceeds to talk with his mouth full. Rude. "Wasn't exactly perfect on Crowley- ground was kinda bullshit sacred, magic-produced with Wonderland's whateverness, and my blood ain't exactly pure even after I say fifty Hail Marys, but whatever. It did something. Toned his evil ass down from a ten to like a four so I'm counting it as a win."

One of the trials. It must be the third trial, because he'd already heard about the second from Benny. Which means that if nothing else, they'd started on the third trial. It's possible they didn't finish, or were brought here in the middle of it, because if the gates of Hell truly had been closed, Castiel would assume that Dean would have mentioned that to him first thing.

Then again, with how many things Dean has left out or not mentioned since his arrival here, Castiel really does have to wonder.

The ritual is so simple that it seems too good to be true, and yet he files the information away. Dean wouldn't lie about something like this, which means he at least believes himself to be right in this case. Castiel's not going to be completely convinced until he tries it himself or gets a closer read on Crowley. He'll keep that in mind for the next time he runs into the demon.

"No, there's definitely no sacred ground here," he says after he finishes his next bite of food. The fact that it would have worked at all is surprising in that case, but Castiel will investigate that for himself. "But if you've managed to siphon out even some of his power, that's good news." And it also explains why Crowley's been keeping quiet for the most part.

He figured that might be the case- hard to get sacred ground in a world as topsy turvy as this. Who knows what would've happened if he'd finished the ritual all the way through- maybe it would've outright killed Crowley. Maybe that might've erased all the progress. It's hard telling, but at any rate it's good enough that he stopped when he did. Crowley has been laying low ever since, hell, he's even been somewhat tolerable.

Somewhat.

"No kidding. Dude was sobbing like a baby towards the end, it was full-on bizarre. Anyway, mission accomplished on that front. Thought about strapping Meg's ass down and shooting her full of it, too, but she's been keeping things pretty low-key so I didn't see the point. Especially with her dad roaming the halls. Bitch on a leash- doesn't get much better than that." He raises his bottle in a sort of solute, then drinks. Truth be told, Dean probably wouldn't try and cure Meg no matter the circumstances. She was an ally at the last, she bit the dust, she deserves a little peace. Fucked up as that is to say.

And that has nothing at all to do with their... thing.

Sobbing like a baby? Castiel's head shoots up at that, and he narrows his eyes for a moment, but from what he can tell Dean's being completely serious. He tries to picture Crowley crying, but it's as if his mind can't conjure up that mental image. He's not the most creative of beings to begin with, but this is far beyond his capabilities.

He's distracted by Dean mentioning Meg. They haven't discussed her much until now, but it's no surprise that she's come up in this context. Castiel finds himself agreeing with Dean in this case. There's no reason to do anything to Meg when she hasn't been causing trouble and when the ritual isn't even possible here.

Besides, this is essentially her afterlife at the moment. Taking away the part of her that she so heavily identifies with would almost be cruel.

"You're right. Unless she gives us reason to try and cure her, I think we can leave things as they are. It would be better not to stir things up if we can avoid it." That's his story and he's sticking to it. This has nothing to do with any kind of bias, nothing at all. Or so Castiel will continue to tell himself.

He takes another bite of his food, though after a short pause he speaks up again despite the fact that he hasn't swallowed everything yet. And is it any wonder who he got that bad habit from? "Is there any other important information you've failed to mention to me?"

So maybe he was exaggerating just a little about the amount of sobbing there actually was, but not a lot. There was definitely a fair amount of shaking and snot, at any rate. It was the weirdest thing Dean's ever seen, hands down.

Cas's question brings him pause, though. Is there anything he's forgotten to mention? He chews slowly, eyes flicking away as he considers it. The only thing that comes to mind is... well, is the very end of it all. Is the way Cas's family fell from the sky, the way the angels burned their wings on the trip down. Should he, though? Should he tell that? By rights, it's something Cas would want to know, but the thing is... knowing won't change anything. Knowing won't accomplish anything. Hell, Cas hasn't even done it yet, and he'd be stuck carrying around the weight of it all anyway.

How fucked up would it be to burden the guy like that? He'll learn eventually, probably, if Wonderland ever sends him on a vaction home. In the meantime...

In the meantime, he's better off. He shakes his head finally. "Nope. Nothing comes to mind."

Dean's quiet for a long while before he answers, as if he really has to think about it. It makes his eventual answer fall flat, and Castiel eyes him closely over his can of soda as he takes a long sip.

If Dean's keeping something from him even when he's asking directly like this, then no amount of pushing is going to get him to cough up the information. Which is frustrating, but it's not as if Castiel hasn't kept things from Dean in the past. He can only judge so much.

He polishes off his sandwich and pushes the wrapping to the side. "Was there anything you needed done here? I could add some extra warding." The sort of thing that might keep the Devil away. It would take time to draw out the sigils in such a way that they would allow him in, but not Lucifer, but Castiel thinks he could manage it. And then there's Crowley and Meg to consider. He may not actively be targeting either one of them for different reasons, but he doubts Dean wants them finding this place.

Dean finishes off his own sandwich, sets back to prop his feet up on the table again. Cas might not be buying it, but as long as he's not pushing for more, it's good enough for Dean. They'll deal with it later, right now they've got enough going on. He slurps down some of his own soda, glancing around the place in consideration. "Got salt lines for Meg and Crowley. Truth be told, though, I think your brother wants out of here just as much as we do. You really think keeping him off our team's the best way to play this?"

Not that he'll argue if Cas insists, it is still Lucifer after all. It's just that Dean's come to think of him more as an ace up their sleeve than an outright enemy. Common goals or whatever.

Castiel can barely believe what he's hearing. All of that time, all of that effort, all of that death endured to try and stop the Devil, and now Dean's saying that they should work together? Lucifer is hardly his brother anymore, either, and while he can understand the other angels referring to him as such, he doesn't appreciate it from Dean.

The soda can in his hand slams down onto the table as he stares in a mix of shock and anger at Dean. "Are you seriously suggesting that we allow Satan to be a part of our plans? Have you forgotten that he wanted to bring about the Apocalypse? Has it slipped your mind what he did to Sam?"

Lucifer is to blame for Sam ending up in that mental institute. Lucifer is to blame for Jo and Ellen's deaths. It could even be said that Lucifer is to blame for Heaven's decline, for his family falling apart, and Dean wants to work with him?

Feet drop away from the table as quickly as they'd gone up, his own soda still clutched in one hand as he gesticulates. "Hey, I'm not saying we give the guy a hug and a candy bar, I'm just saying he's got the kind of power we might need to get us out of here!"

It's said with a combination of defensiveness and rationality, and the can gets set down with a pointed thump. What he did to Sam is unforgivable, but he's trying to be tactical. What happened to Jo and Ellen was Meg's fault, and arguably? Cas is to blame for Sam ending up in that mental institute. Cas broke his wall. He shoves back from the table to rise to his feet and pace away. "And don't you dare accuse me of forgetting about what happened to Sam, because I sure as hell haven't, but if you wanna get out of here one day, it might not be in our best interest to fight more than one damn war while we're down here! You want him out, fine, he's out, but you didn't used to be so gung-ho about excluding him. Hell, you were drinking buddies with the guy. He was gonna help you remember after you left."

Castiel would have expected Dean to back down, at least when it comes to this, because it's his family they're talking about and that's always, always been a sore spot for more reasons than he can count.

But when does Dean ever back down? When does Dean ever resist the urge to butt heads with him? Never, that's the answer.

In some sense, Castiel can see the argument that Dean's trying to make. Yes, Lucifer is powerful, but if he could have gotten out of here, he would have done so already. Dean had taken issue with Castiel working with a demon, and now he wants to turn around and work with the Devil? Has he even talked to Sam about this? Castiel isn't talking about waging war with Lucifer, but he doesn't want him to be a part of their plans either. Not unless they have no choice.

But it's what Dean finishes up with that truly bowls Castiel over, and it takes almost all of the fire out of him as he tries to process that. It's not computing. Not even a little bit.

"... Drinking buddies?" he grates out. "What are you talking about?" Castiel can hardly bear being in Lucifer's presence, not when it brings back memories of hallucinations on top of their complicated set of similarities.

Dean's not saying they work with him, not in the sense that he gets a club badge and free coffee, just in the sense that they don't... you know, specifically include him. He's got the grand idea of all parties being in favor of getting the hell out of here, and if they're all on the same side- Lucifer included- well, things might just go a little bit easier. In his mind, it's decidedly not the same as signing a two for one special with Crowley. There's no gaining, no trust, no alliances, no deals. Just working with what they've got.

Besides, once they break out of here, Lucifer's going into a hole in the ground for all eternity.

He sets Cas with a look, something pointed. "Oh yeah. Not joking. You and Lucifer and a couple of your angel buddies had a real nice night together. You full-on hugged the guy, Cas, so don't get all judgemental with me for suggesting we don't box him out of the inzone when the time comes."

Is Dean lying? He must be lying, coming out with something completely ridiculous in order to make his point. Castiel can't picture himself giving Lucifer a hug no matter what the circumstances. Maybe if an event was to blame, but that doesn't count as far as he's concerned.

It's true that he did some strange things when he'd gotten drunk that one time, but he doesn't think he would ever go that far. And yet... apparently he had. Then again, at that point he'd been from a time when Lucifer hadn't been such a loaded subject.

"I have no interest in hugging him now," he huffs, shifting in his seat and then eventually standing to let off all the excess energy this discussion has dredged up. "He may not have any reason to do us harm here, but that doesn't mean we should offer him any trust." It will lead nowhere good. This is the Devil they're talking about. He doesn't see why it's so hard for Dean to wrap his head around that.

"If we're in a position where we absolutely have no choice but to ask him for help, then maybe. Otherwise he stays out of this." He's putting his foot down in this case.

"I never said we trust him," It's bitten out incredulously. He doesn't have much to say about the hugging, that was a fight from another time, a fight with a Cas who hadn't been through all the shit they'd been through together yet. It was in the past, and it was... well, it was admittedly weird, but whatever. He's focusing on the issue at hand. "You think I'm brain damaged? I'm just saying we use him."

Which... admittedly does sound a hell of a lot more like the Crowley situation there, but without the sneaking and the making stupid decisions with stupid consequences. "And when we do break out of here, he's getting shot back into the pit with Michael, so it's no harm no foul. Trust me, I'm not interested in being bunk buddies with the guy."

Some of the aggression in his tone eases back down to something calmer, something level and serious.

Dean's making some fair points, but Castiel can't shake the feeling that this is the same as playing with fire -- or worse, putting your hand into a pit of vipers.

"And what do you think would happen if the plan didn't work out and Lucifer realized that he'd been used?" One of them will pay for it, that's for certain, and it could very well be Dean. Castiel's been working to keep Dean safe, and allowing him to try and get the best of Lucifer is the equivalent of letting him set his head in place for the guillotine.

Maybe he's overreacted to some degree, but there's no denying that Dean has a suicidal streak and Castiel's been trying to keep an eye on that here. "... If you ever see fit to 'use' him, speak to me about it first." It's not an order, but it is a request, and one that he hopes Dean will agree to.

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if i'm going to scale the highest wall

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casually abuses all my eating icons...

b e a u t i f u l

i think this is my last one :c

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