Song Remains the Same

Chapter 13: King of Hell

"Am I going insane? My blood is boiling inside of my veins.
An evil feeling attacks; my body's shaking, there's no turning back."
- Bullet for My Valentine

A Week Later

Alex stared out of the window of the Impala into the dark night with a hard, thoughtful face. No music played—the car was silent except for the hum of the engines. The mood was somber as it should be. They had just been to Pamela Barnes' funeral. The psychic died a couple of days ago helping them to stop a seal from being broken. The task of stopping these so-called seals was becoming too big. Alex's thoughts lingered on the alarmingly fast rate at which allies and fellow hunters were dying. These were dark days.

Dean pulled into a motel, muttering something about needing some friggin' sleep and Sam silently went to get them checked in. Dean and Alex said nothing as they waited, both lost in thoughts. When Sam came back with their room key, they all grabbed their stuff and went to find their room.

"Ah, home crappy home," Dean muttered, breaking the silence as they entered the dark room. Sam flipped on the lights with Alex close behind him. That was when they saw that they were not alone. The three stopped short at the sight of Castiel and Uriel in their motel room. Oh no was all Alex could think.

"Ah. We've been waiting for you." Uriel advanced smoothly on them. Withering a fraction, Alex looked from him to Castiel, who hung back. He stared blankly ahead of himself. He didn't meet her gaze. It had been a couple of months since she'd laid eyes on him. And last time she'd seen him, he'd saved her life then stared at her like—well, she didn't know what like.

"Oh come on, guys!" Dean protested, dismayed to find that his plans of sleeping might not reach fruition.

"You are needed," Uriel said, ignoring Dean's comment.

Dean's temper was shorter than normal. "We just got back from 'needed'!"

One of Uriel's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Now you mind your tone with me."

"No, you mind your damn tone with us," Dean fired back.

"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam explained as if that would change Uriel's approach. The cold angel's face remained blank, and Castiel switched from staring into space to staring at the ground, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze.

Dean stared needles at him. "You know, psychic Pamela? Cas, you remember her, right? I mean, you burned her eyes out. Ring any bells?" No response from Cas. "Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals," Dean continued angrily, his voice growing in timbre by the second. "So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!"

There was a short silence then Uriel moved forward threateningly. "We raised you out of hell for our purposes."

"Yeah, what were those again? What, exactly, did you want from me?" Dean remained insolent. Alex looked at Cas again. He was still silent and stone-faced. But he'd been looking at her from the corner of his eye. When she caught him, he quickly looked away.

Uriel came even closer, his voice lowering. Beside Alex, Sam tensed. Uriel spoke through his teeth. "Start with gratitude."

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Cas said, breaking his silence and stepping forward to pacify the rising conflict.

"And we—" Uriel gave Castiel a pointed look, stopping the other angel in his tracks, "—don't care." Chastised, Castiel again fell silent, not acknowledging Alex's questioning stare. Uriel continued to address Dean. "Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."