She Has Wings. | Castiel

Abandon All Hope.

(This chapter contains sexual content)
Chapter Eighteen

The convention was winding down, and people drifted toward the exits with their plastic EMF readers and salt-shot keychains. Posters curled on their tacks, and a guy in a cheap leather jacket cosplay was arguing about demon lore with a girl dressed like a succubus. The whole place smelled like stale coffee, fried food grease, and floor cleaner that couldn't mask the sweat of a hundred overeager fans.

In the middle of it all, Sam looked like he was carrying the end of the world on his shoulders.

"You'd be shocked that I got a lead on the Colt," he said, his tone low enough that only Dean and I caught it.

I stared at him, half-expecting it to be a joke. "How the hell did you get a lead at a supernatural convention?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, already exasperated. "Long story."

Dean shot him a look but didn't press. He tossed his keys up, caught them with one hand, and jerked his chin toward the door. We slipped out past a group of fans arguing about what a "real" salt line should look like, and the chill morning air hit me like a slap, a reminder we weren't playing at this. Not costumes. Not stories. Just the real thing.

Dean unlocked the Impala, the metallic click sharp in the quiet lot, and for the first time all night, the weight of what Sam had said really sank in. The Colt. A chance. Maybe the only one.

Crowley.

The name felt wrong in my mouth when I said it out loud for the first time. I had never heard it before, and even Castiel looked unsettled when we told him. He agreed to help track the demon down, though, because if the Colt was really with him, if there was even a sliver of hope it could kill Lucifer, we had to chase it.

The next morning, after hours of searching, Castiel finally narrowed it down. "He should be doing a big-time deal with some banker," he said, and that became our lead. So it was Cas and me, side by side, following the threads of Hell's business.

Underneath a bridge, Cas held my hand as we peeked around the corner. The banker was there, shaking hands with a man in a sharp suit and sharper eyes. Crowley. I could feel the wrongness rolling off him from here. Cas lifted his phone, his voice low and even.

"Got him," he said into the receiver.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, but it broke loose anyway when I realized what was happening in front of us. "They're kissing, Dean," I whispered, and then giggled harder as they lingered. "They're actually kissing."

Dean's muffled laugh cracked through the phone. "Okay, huggy bear and pervert, just don't lose him."

"We won't," I promised, hanging up just as the banker pulled away. Crowley slipped off into the morning dew, and Cas squeezed my hand before pulling me along. He blinked us forward, following Crowley's trail until we landed outside a sprawling mansion.

We called Dean back. Cas spoke first, his voice heavy with frustration. "I followed him. It's not far, but it's layered in Enochian warding magic. We can't get in."

I took the phone from him. "Dean, that means we can't use me as the diversion like the original plan. You need to call Jo, she's the only other girl who can pull it off."

Dean hummed on the other end, clearly running through the options in his head. "You're right. That's unfortunate. It'll be okay."

I hung up, slipped the phone into my jacket pocket, and laced my fingers through Cas's.

"Let's go to Bobby's," I mumbled, and in the next blink, we were there. The roof tiles crunched under our boots as we stood side by side, the world spread wide and cold beneath us. We moved into a sitting position, and I looked at him.