Hell's Angels

Chapter 4

When Dean and Castiel returned to the house, the other angels had scattered. Balthazar was on his fifth martini, Samandriel was watching cartoons while Gadreel pressured him to change the channel. Hannah was nowhere in sight.

“Where has Hannah gone?” Castiel asked. The other angels shrugged.

“Something about stretching her wings.” Gadreel said. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Give me a moment.” He said, and disappeared.

Dean stood in place for a moment. He wasn’t in the mood for angel bonding time, so instead he went to look for Bobby. In classic Bobby fashion, Bobby found him first.

“Alright Dean!” He yelled through the house, even though Dean was standing right in front of him. “You’ve been gone three months and we still haven’t had a conversation yet, so get over here.”

The box in Bobby’s hands made Dean apprehensive. He grimaced.

“Oh Bobby, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” He said.

“Dean, if you’re here…” Bobby said to the air next to Dean. “I know what you’re thinking, but we are gonna talk one way or the other. So you can either sit down or I’m going to go get one of those angels to be a translator. Your decision.”

He had no choice. Dean moaned and sat down in front of the Ouija Board. Not that it would actually work though. Those things are notorious for being hoaxes. Bobby put his fingers on the upside down shot glass. Dean rolled his eyes and did the same.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He muttered.

“Dean, are you here?” Bobby asked. Dean was shocked to discover his fingers didn’t phase through the glass. In his excitement, he almost forgot to move the glass to the word yes. When he did, Bobby smiled. Then he sniffed the air and frowned.

“Do you smell smoke?” He asked. Dean sniffed the air, but smelled nothing. They both glanced around the room, but saw nothing burning. Then Dean came to the realization that it must be him. Ghosts oftentimes carried aromas with them, usually something significant to their life, or in Dean’s case, death. Bobby came to the same conclusion, and decided it would be best to let the issue pass.

“So, tell me, how’s the afterlife?” Bobby asked, changing the conversation. Dean moved the shot glass across the board to the letters to spell out B-O-R-I-N-G. He paused, and then added, A-N-D S-O-B-E-R.

“That must be hard for you.” Bobby pointed out. Then he was silent, clearly weighing what he was about to say. “Sam survived. Have you gone to see him yet?”

The shotglass felt ten pounds heavier, and it took all the force in Dean’s fingers to push it to Yes. Bobby smiled weakly. Dean was glad Bobby couldn’t see his face. Bobby seemed to wait for Dean to elaborate, but nothing happened.

“So? How is he? Last I heard Stanford was going well.” Bobby said. The shotglass didn’t move. “Is he coming up to help ya’ll?”

Dean didn’t know what was heavier, the shotglass or his heart. He pushed the glass to the word No and saw Bobby’s face immediately fall. His breath changed drastically.

“Probably for the best.” Bobby said. “That boy doesn’t deserve to throw his dreams away twice.”

Another thought popped into Dean’s head. A-N-Y G-O-O-D C-A-S-E-S?

Bobby raised his eyebrow and thought for a moment.

“There was this one case where some priest’s ghost was possessing people. For a while, I-uh,” Bobby laughed, but there was a hint of sadness below the surface. “I thought it might have been an angel. I was wrong, but look at us now. Angels are real and drinking all my gin.”

I W-O-U-L-D K-I-L-L F-O-R A B-E, Dean began to spell out but then changed his mind, W-H-I-S-K-E-Y.

“I could give you that easily, if you could drink it.” Bobby said. “What exactly are the limitations of being a ghost? That is what you are, right?”

H-E-L-L I-F I K-N-O-W, the letters spelled out. Then Balthazar appeared in the doorway.

“You’ve been summoned for a battle plan meeting.” He said. He raised his empty glass.

“Do I look like a butler to you?” Bobby said, angrily. He started to pick up the ouija board, and spoke to the air.

“You better go if you intend on keeping your word.” Bobby said. Dean reluctantly left Bobby, and followed Balthazar.

All the angels had assembled in a disorganized circle. Gadreel had the tv remote in his hand, which Samandriel was clearly bothered by. Castiel was standing, and it was evident that he had been addressing the angels before Dean and Balthazar had walked in. Castiel paused and motioned towards the couch. Balthazar gave Dean a smirk as they sat down next to each other. Dean crossed his arms. Besides Castiel, Hannah was the only one standing. She refused to meet anyone’s eyes, except for Castiel’s. All her attention was given to him.

“As I was saying,” Castiel said, continuing his breakdown, “if Samandriel’s spies have the correct information, we can assume that Heaven is keeping the wounded angels in the Prison District, probably Sector 4.”

He pointed towards a map that one of the angels had drawn on the wall in sharpie. Dean didn’t want to be there when Bobby saw that mess on his wall.

“As you’re aware, Sector 4 is one of the most heavily guarded areas in Heaven, next to only Sector 6 and 13.” Castiel explained.

“What’s in those Sectors?” Dean asked. All the angels tensed, and looked at Castiel. His eyes bulged in shock or fear, Dean wasn’t sure.

“We don’t actually, um…” Samandriel mumbled. “We don’t actually know what’s there.”

Dean raised his eyebrow quizzically.

“I’m sorry?” He asked.

“No one knows what’s there.” Samandriel explained. “Not even the highest ranked in Heaven’s army. Or if they do they’re not telling. Anybody.”

“We should stay focused.” Castiel said. Dean sensed that he was trying to change the subject. What could possibly be so horrible and mysterious that it could make angels squirm at just the mention of it?”

“Because Sector 4 is so heavily guarded, we’ll have to be extra thorough in our preparation. Samandriel, is this the correct layout of the Sector?” Castiel asked, and pointed some sharpie squiggles on the wall. Samandriel nodded.

“In that case, I want all the guard shifts, who, when, where, what time they switch, what weapons they have. Gadreel and Hannah, I need a special forces squadron. Our best angels, our best weapons.”

“Castiel,” Gadreel said, “you do know that there’s a high risk that those angels won’t come back. Do we really want to put our best angels out there?”

“Gadreel,” Castiel said, “Right now what the rebellion needs is hope. They need to know that we won’t abandon them and that Heaven is not invincible.”

“Very well.” Gadreel said, nodding solemnly.

“And Dean,” Castiel said as Dean looked up, “I want you to examine these blueprints and tell me your battle plan.”

“Those are your blueprints?” Dean asked. “It looks like a blind three-year old drew them.”

“Hey!” Samandriel said. “I was still recovering from fighting Heaven.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, “they may not be the most fully-rendered depictions of Heaven’s layout, but they will tell you what you need to know.”

“What about me, your royal generaliness?” Balthazar asked. A small smile tugged at Castiel’s face.

“I need you to make the finest distraction Heaven has even seen.” Castiel said. “And I need it to risk as few of our soldiers as possible.”

“Aye Aye captain.” Balthazar said, and gave a little salute.

“Castiel…” Hannah said. “What will you be doing?”

“Bringing the plan together,” he said. After a pause, he added, “and searching…”

“For God?” Dean asked, half-jokingly. Castiel nodded solemnly. Dean was shocked at the lack of protest from the angels over Castiel wasting time on such a pointless mission. They opposed every other order, but now they just stared wistfully at Castiel. Dean frowned. They could get their hopes up, but he wasn’t going to.

“So, we might as well get planning,” Dean said. “No time to lose.”

“And in the meantime, I want you all to regain your health. We’re going to attack as soon as possible.” Castiel said.

With that, everyone dispersed once more. Before Dean could get a word in, Castiel was gone to the wind. Dean frowned. Not that he was sad Castiel was gone, just a little disappointed. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and instead tried to decipher the sharpie blueprints.

“Balls!” He heard a voice behind him. “Those damn angels.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little.

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