Theme Prompt - Pain 2

Sam woke up again, eyes fuzzy as he stared at the clock on his nightstand. The neon green numbers told him it was the early hours of the morning, a time when most sane people were still sound asleep. Yet, with all the sleep he’d been getting lately, Sam felt wide awake. The lightheaded feeling from earlier was mostly gone and there was really no point lying awake here in bed. That would only give Sam time to think and that was the last thing he wanted. Maybe someone else would be up. Dean might be, he usually only slept for four hours a night. Especially since he got back from Purgatory. Sighing, Sam stood up and decided to change as his clothes were a bit bloodstained and rather dirty. He changed quickly, running his fingers through his hair once he was done.

Sam let himself out of his room quietly, knowing that Kevin was probably still asleep. The prophet was the only one who had kept to regular hours, most of the time. Dean, and to a lesser extent Sam himself, had lived too long with fear and the unknown to sleep regularly. Making his slow way down the hallway, legs still a bit shaky, Sam looked into the living room before ducking into the kitchen. He was completely alone and decided to warm up some more of the stir fry he’d had earlier. It seemed to be a side effect of the trials, this ravening hunger. At least it was manageable and Sam didn’t feel quite as hungry as he had before. He ate quickly, itching for information though he knew it would be cruel to wake anyone up. Especially if Dean and Cas had worked through their issues. But, if he remembered correctly, there was one person who might be willing to talk that Sam had no qualms waking up in the middle of the night. Crowley.

After dropping his dish in the sink again, and making a mental note to do the dishes later, Sam walked down to what they’d dubbed as their dungeon. Looking inside, Sam could see Crowley sitting on a chair, his eyes flicking over the sigils carved into the chains and handcuffs. Crowley was one of the smartest demons they’d ever come across, and the most resourceful, and was probably trying to figure a way out of the cuffs. Unfortunately, if anyone could manage it, it would be Crowley.

“Feel any different?” Sam asked, walking in and shutting the door firmly behind him. “Or are you full demon again.”

“Moose,” Crowley greeted, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. “Well, since you ask so politely, I feel contaminated. I don’t know how far along your little curing ritual got but I can still feel it. What are you doing here? Come to gloat over the fallen king?”

“No, I’m not here to gloat,” Sam shook his head, settling down against the wall. His legs were shaky, firmly protesting the walking he’d been doing. “I’m here to talk. What do you know about the trials? I know you had Kevin’s research.”

“Why do you think I’m going to share that with you?” Crowley sneered. Sam was watching carefully, though, and saw the slight tremble in his lips and the glitter of fear in his eyes. Crowley wasn’t nearly as confident as he was sounding. “What incentive do I have for that?”

“You forget that I was there during the ritual, Crowley,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I know you feel something now. What was it you said? You just want to be loved and you asked me how to atone for everything you did. Why don’t you start now, start trying to balance all that pain and destruction and suffering, by helping me. Helping us. All hell’s broken loose, Crowley, and we need all the help we can get.”

“Seeing as I’m probably number one on Abaddon’s most wanted list, it may be in my best interest to help,” Crowley mused, affecting a disinterested air. He swept his eyes over the room, studying the sigils carved into the chains yet again. Whoever had made them, and this room, had definitely known what he was doing. It took a lot to impress someone as jaded as Crowley had become but this room impressed. “What are you willing to offer me, Sam? Why should I help you?”

“What, making up for your past not enough for you?” Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. Promising too much was not a good idea and Sam wasn’t sure what the others would consider too much. After all, they had Kevin and the tablet. What could Crowley offer that Kevin couldn’t. “You know what, thinking about it, I don’t think we really need you. We have a prophet and the tablet.”

With a strangled grunt, Sam pushed himself to his feet and nodded at Crowley. There was nothing of respect in the gesture, more of a goodbye you fucked yourself. Crowley’s mouth dropped open in surprise as Sam left, cries following Sam up the stairs. Perhaps Crowley would be useful but he was more of a liability at the moment. There was no telling if he would break through those chains or what he could do even chained up. After all, he’d managed to send a message during the ritual even if Abaddon was the only one who’d answered.

Sam walked slowly back to his room, weaving on his feet and using the wall for support. Though he was wide awake earlier, after all his walking he felt exhausted again. This whole thing was frustrating as hell; Sam hated having to rely on others to take care of him. It was his job to take care and protect innocents. Falling into his bed, Sam yawned and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. There was a curious tingling in his hands though nothing seemed to be wrong with them. Letting it go for now, Sam fell into an uneasy sleep. He rarely slept without nightmares anymore and he wasn't’ looking forward to whatever his subconscious was going to drag up for him this time.

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“I did it,” Jo announced triumphantly, leading the way through the door into the Roadhouse. Ash and Sarah were just behind her, grins on their faces. “Never thought I’d find the materials to make a bomb up here in Heaven, but I did. Apparently, there were a few bomb squad guys who rather enjoyed their work. But I blew up Naomi’s office.”

“Did you take the drill with you?” Naomi asked, looking up from Ash’s laptop. She’d learned the system quickly, glancing at Ash and mentioning Raziel’s name when he’d first shown her how to work it. Ash had merely shrugged and grinned. “It is important that I have it. There aren’t many left in existence anymore.”

“I’ve got it,” Sarah said, holding out the still-bloodstained bit of metal. A curl in her lip and a glitter of fear in her eyes told Naomi how little Sarah liked touching the thing. “What do you need it for?”

“It helps me... educate other angels,” Naomi replied delicately while Pam snorted. She knew exactly what it was for after touching it once. The echoes of pain and confusion and loss reverberated in the piece of metal and were impossible for her to miss. “With this, I can make sure that Metatron is no longer a danger.”

“And how are we going to go about that?” Bobby asked gruffly, popping a pretzel into his mouth. He was lounging in one of the chairs near the pool table, keeping an eye on Naomi. He still didn’t trust her. “I mean, Metatron wrote the damn tablets. How do we go up against the knowledge he has?”

“We continue as we have been,” Naomi explained, nodding to Jo. “Surgical strikes to sow as much chaos and confusion as possible. I would prefer to leave the other human souls out of it and free of damage. However, I will not stop if they become an obstacle. Metatron needs to be stopped and Heaven restored.”

“See, this is where we have a problem,” Bobby replied, shaking his head. “You’re all for collateral damage and couldn’t give a damn. But those are human souls you’re talking about. People who lived and died and expected to be safe in their afterlife. We are not going to hurt or kill them.”

“And if we saved one human soul and lost to Metatron?” Naomi asked, rounding on Bobby with eyes blazing. “Would you rather we lose everything to protect your precious human souls? What then?”

“Hey, guys, quit fighting,” Pam broke in as Ellen walked in from the back room. “We’ll find a way and we’ll do it with the least amount of casualties possible. Calm down, Bobby.”

“Well, what did I miss?” Ellen laughed, looking from face to face. “Hey, Jo, looks like your mission went well.”

“It did and the explosion was awesome,” Jo replied, grinning at her mother. “So how about you? Get what you needed?”

“I did indeed,” Ellen replied, setting a small bundle of plants and herbs on the bar. “Everything Pam said we need to contact the boys. Now explain to me why the resident angel isn’t helping with this? Surely you can just flit right on down there and talk to them?”

“I could, yes,” Naomi nodded, taking a deep breath and fixing a patient look on her face. “If I wanted Metatron to be able to follow me. Anything I do that is more than the human souls here can do, he will be able to find me. And if he finds me, he finds you. Believe me, Metatron knows everything there is to know about how angels work. He would be able to pull any information from me he wanted.”

“Fine, fine,” Ellen grumbled, walking behind the bar and pulling out one of the bowls she kept back there. They were used for pretzels, at least they were, but now it would be used for the spell to contact the Winchesters. “Here, do your ritual and get those boys working.”

Naomi took the bowl Ellen held out and mixed the herbs together. The last thing she dropped in was a flower that looked like a red and yellow orchid. An acrid smell wafted up from the bowl as the herbs mixed and Naomi whispered over it. She kept her voice as quiet as possible, hoping Metatron wouldn’t pick it up. But this was the only way and the danger was worth it. Naomi beckoned to Sarah, who sighed and stepped up next to the angel. Sliding the bowl over to Sarah, Naomi used one of the matchbooks littering the bar to light the contents on fire.

“Breathe in the smoke,” Naomi ordered, pressing on Sarah’s shoulder. “It smells nasty but you won’t be hurt by it.”

Sarah nodded and bent over the bowl, breathing heavily as she forced herself to inhale the smoke. It burned her nose and Sarah fought the urge to sneeze. The room blurred around her and a curious dizziness came over her. Sarah closed her eyes tightly and continued to breathe in. But the smell was gone and different sounds washed over her. Gathering all her courage, Sarah opened her eyes and looked around the room she found herself in. It was dim but a soft light flowed in from another room. It had the warm, buttery look of morning sunlight. Wooden tables dominated the center of the room while a gramophone and crystal glasses rested on a table across from her. There were all sorts of artifacts scattered around the room, from a scimitar to what looked like an ancient vase to a weird collection of bones hang from the ceiling. It looked nothing like anything Sarah had ever seen before.

“Sarah?” a familiar voice blurted out from behind her. “How are you here?”

“Sam, it’s good to see you,” Sarah said, turning to smile at the younger Winchester. “We need to talk.”