A Crow with a Rose

Chapter Twenty-Three

Riding in the Impala always brought on a wave of nostalgia, Castiel noticed as he looked out the window at the rolling scenery.

Usually his moments were brief in the vehicle but there was always the scent of leather, traces of alcohol, and "classic" rock playing on the radio. Classic to the boys. His own age led to a different definition of the word, but he found himself enjoying the music nonetheless. It fit the Winchesters well. Dean especially.

The radio was playing even now and conversation was sparse between himself and the hunter. He had explained everything he could about Metatron, the spell, and what the scribe had planned. They were at a loss as to the current angel situation. He was without his grace due to it being used as the spell's final ingredient, and while he was fortunate that he hadn't encountered any of his brothers or sisters, he also didn't know the full extent of their ability. Did they still have their own grace? Their wings? He was cut off from angel radio and left alone in the silence.

He glanced over at Dean, taking a moment to take him into account. While the eldest Winchester could be occasionally taciturn, the tension in the air was apparent to him. Green eyes were staring hard at the road and he knew that they were seeing beyond the scenery, lost in thought. His hands were gripping the steering wheel too tightly, the needle climbing higher on the speed gauge. Again, Dean tended to drive faster than most, but he could feel that something was wrong.

"Dean."

"Mm?" he barely grunted, gaze still locked on the road.

"Has something else happened?"

His gripped tighten on the wheel. So, he was right.

"Dean. Is everyone safe?" he asked, his urgency apparent. "Is Sam all right? Did the trials hurt him?"

"Sam's fine. Still recovering, but he's—he's on the mend," Dean answered. They took a left onto an unmarked back road. "But—well, we had an unexpected visitor the other night when we made it back after the trials…"

The angel's brows furrowed in concern. "Who?"

Dean took a breath.

"Rose."

Castiel gave him an incredulous look, not caring how apparent his confusion was to his friend.

"Rosette Herondale?" he clarified. "But—she's—"

"Yeah," Dean cut in, "well, now she's not. No idea how she managed that yet, but we've got an idea of where she's been."

A sick feeling of dread began to swell up in the pit of his stomach. Though she was killed by a Hellhound due to selling her soul to the crossroads demon, the death was brought upon her due to him removing the angelic sigils that he had originally marked her with upon their first meeting, unintentionally prolonging her life. He knew full well that the marks were interfering with her contract with Crowley and if removed that her death would be immediate. He…knowingly removed her only means of protection the night he took the souls of Purgatory into himself.

"I'm afraid the angel's right."

"What…what does that mean then?" Rose asked carefully. Castiel could feel the fear radiating from her as well as hear it in her voice as it trembled. Of course she was afraid. Hell was to be her eternity, brought on by the Hellhounds that would viciously drag her there.

He noticed that Crowley's gaze lingered on her while he kept his voice mild. "It means that since Castiel here has marked up your contract with his sigils, I cannot collect your soul at this point in time. Unless he so kindly removes them—"

"I will not," Castiel snapped.

He had been so certain. So convicted of his righteous intention and that it would never waver. He would never knowingly put her in death's sight by removing the sigils. Of course not, he was an angel.

It made his stomach churn uncomfortably at the cold fact that he did exactly what he swore against. And for what? To spite Crowley for betraying him?

He killed her.

The girl he brought into their life of angels, demons, and world ending danger. This human who became his friend and who put her faith in him, just for him to rip it away. He still remembered Sam burying the angel blade in his back after the hound came for her, his green eyes burning with justified fury and anguish, barely keeping his composure so to deal with the threat that the once-angel posed.

"You killed Rose!"

"Cas?'

Dean's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he blinked before realizing that they had come to a stop outside of what he presumed was the bunker's entrance. He turned his head to see those too green eyes, so similar to Sam's yet so distinctly different and remarkably Dean, looking at him with what he would call concern.

"Listen, I know you and Rose have to hash out what happened," Dean told him, "and we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, I think it's just better that we get everyone together and regroup—"

"I understand, Dean," he said with a small nod. "I…would also like to use this opportunity to speak with Rosette myself and apologize, if I can…"

He gave an approving nod, turning the key so that the engine quieted. "All right then. Let's go."

Castiel followed Dean into the secret base, looking around in surprise at the scale of the underground hideout. It was very impressive and they were only at the entryway. He wondered how extensive the layout ran as he followed the hunter into a study and they saw Kevin and Sam sitting at one of the large oak tables.

The hunter and the prophet both rose to their feet at the sight of them.

"Cas! You're all right," sighed Sam with relief. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he turned to his brother. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

"You had things under control here," shrugged Dean, "and I didn't want to rock the boat."

An unspoken understanding passed between the brothers and the subject was dropped. Castiel came to the uncomfortable conclusion that it was about having him and Rosette in the same place.

"Why don't I go make us something to eat and Cas can give the run down on heaven and Meta-douche—"

Dean was cut off when muted shout sounded off from within the bunker. There was hardly a beat before Sam turned heel and took off and Dean cursed before following.

"Dammit!"

The two ran down the hall with Kevin and Cas right behind them. He had hardly the time to marvel at the architecture of the bunker as he chased after the Winchesters. Nearly missing the sharp turn, he was at first confused by the store room and then what appeared to be a secret room. The shelves were thrown open wide to act as a doorway and the scene before him made his pulse skip and he found that he could only stare.

There on the floor was the unconscious figure of Rosette Herondale. Sam was kneeling next to her, carefully turning her over so that she was lying on her back. Her eyes were closed, long red hair loose and messy and she was wearing a mix of the boy's clothes. Sam's hands were cradling her face, turning her towards him and tapping her cheek to try to help wake her up as he called her name.

"Rose! Rose, can you hear me?!"

At the same time, there was the rattle of chains and Castiel was taken aback by the sight of Crowley. The King of Hell was within a large devil's trap and confined to a chair, but in that moment he was fighting tooth and nail against his restraints. His hands were bound by a pair of simple looking silver handcuffs, his ankles locked to the legs of the chair, and there was a large iron collar locked around his neck that was anchored to the floor. His face was also half covered in dried blood but none of that seemed to matter as the demon threw his body weight against the chains. His voice came out as a strangled growl, nearly breaking as the collar pressed further into his throat.

"What have you done to her?!"

His wrists and neck were red with blood, the skin distressed and raw, noticed Castiel, his brow furrowing deeper in concern. Fortunately, Dean took the lead.

"How about you tell us what the hell happened here?" demanded the hunter, standing between the prisoner and his own brother who was glaring daggers at the demon while protectively taking the girl into his arms.

"How would I know?!" snapped Crowley, his lips curling in a snarl. "One moment, she walks in here and I discover that she's alive, no thanks to you morons, and the next, she collapses. So someone better tell me what's going on, tout bloody suite—"

"Can the dramatics, Crowley," interrupted Dean, his expression equally aggravated. He looked back to Rose's quiet body in Sam's arms and ran a hand over his face, trying to come up with a solution.

"Let's get her to her room so we can keep an eye on her. Give her a little time to wake up on her own," he decided.

Sam gave a nod and slowly got to his feet, Rosette's body still unresponsive and so small next to him, and he started to turn toward the door when there was another loud shake of the chains. They all turned to see Crowley still trying to get out of his chair and cuffs, leaning hard against the tether.

"Free me—I can help," he insisted through gritted teeth. "Let me help her…"

If Castiel didn't know any better he would've thought the prideful King of Hell was begging, but Dean didn't hesitate.

"No dice."

The lights were switched off as they closed the door, leaving Crowley alone in the dark.

Rose didn't wake up that day. Or the next. Not even the day after that.

Dean didn't know what to do, honestly. They couldn't exactly dreamscape her mind, there was no telling what was going on in there. Just like the night she died and they couldn't do anything to help Sam but wait it out. There was too much Hell wreaking havoc in her head. The twisted sense of irony didn't go unnoticed by him. Now Rose was the one on the bed and Sam was the one in the chair. He didn't know if it was heaven, hell, demons, or friggin' angels trying to pull their chain and mess with them by bringing her to them and then yanking her back. Whatever it was, the timing couldn't be worse. Days later and they were no closer to figuring out what was going on with the angels on earth or Metatron in heaven.

He had just grabbed a beer from the fridge, tipping his head back to take a drink—

"We need to talk."

The sudden stern voice of his brother came from seemingly nowhere and he struggled to not choke on his drink in surprise.

"Geez Sam, m-make a sound, would you?" he sputtered, trying to clear his throat. Beer down the windpipe wasn't the most dignified way to die, he internally snarked at himself.

"My…apologies."

Noticing the odd dialect, he narrowed his eyes as he turned to fully face Sam. He was standing absolutely upright and his expression was solemn. Dean couldn't help but bristle up in response, barely keeping himself from reaching for his gun.

It wasn't Sam.

"Ezekiel."

Not-Sam gave a single nod. "Yes."

Setting down his drink, Dean did his best not to groan as a new headache started to pick up steam. Great. This could only mean more trouble.

"What can I do for ya, 'Zeke?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. "It's been a little crazy around here."

"That is what we must discuss," Ezekiel agreed.

"Great. Got any suggestions? I'm open to anything at this point," he sighed. Ezekiel kept Sam's green eyes stern, his mouth forming a tight line.

"Yes. They must leave."

Dean openly stared, taken aback. "What?"

"Castiel and Rosette must leave," Ezekiel repeated, unbothered by Dean incredulous expression.

"You've gotta be out of your damn mind!" Dean snapped. "Cas doesn't have his grace and Rose is friggin' unconscious! And you want us to toss them out on their ass?!"

"I cannot stay if they remain," Ezekiel told him tersely. "I will have to leave and I cannot promise that your brother would last without my presence healing him."

The hunter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the angel's ultimatum and thinly veiled threat. His nails began to dig into his arms as he kept them crossed.

"Why?" he asked. "Why can't you stay if they're here? They're not going to hurt you."

"It's not that. The angels will be looking for Castiel. His presence alone will bring the force of the remaining heavenly host down on our heads."

"So we hide him. He doesn't have his grace and we can get him tatted up with protection sigils—make him an angel blind spot," reasoned Dean. "We can figure this out. You don't have to run."

If possible, Sam's body seemed to coil up even tighter as Ezekiel watched him. There was something unreadable deep in the borrowed eyes of his brother.

"And what of Rosette Herondale?"

Dean gave a half shrug, confused. "What about her? She's been out for days."

"She has been corrupted," he all but snarled. "It would be a mercy to end her now."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," intervened Dean, bright green eyes narrowing, taking a step forward as his tone lowered, becoming threatening. "End her? No one's ending anyone, pal."

"It would be a mercy, as I said," Ezekiel told him, standing by his words and not stepping away from the hunter.

"The hell do you know about her to want to kill her?" growled Dean. "You're sharing mental space with Sam so you must know that she's a good person and she's family to us."

Ezekiel wasn't swayed. "Your relationship with her doesn't change the fact that she is damaged."

"Then help us fix her!" he snapped. "Help us make things right! Trust me like I've been trusting you!"

He slowly shook his head, Sam's hair swaying. "I'm afraid it's not so simple."

"And healing Sam after stopping the Hell Trials is a walk in the park?" Dean argued.

"It's difficult, yes," he agreed, "but it is possible to heal your brother, although it takes time and power to do so. Rosette is not so fortunate."

The elder hunter clenched his jaw, annoyed. "So you know what's wrong with her?"

"Everything is wrong with her."

His chest felt tight at the angel's words.

"Narrow it down for me."

Again, the borrowed eyes of his brother flashed with the unknown emotion.

"She is broken. Her soul has been twisted and forged into something unrecognizable. It's screaming."

The kitchen fell silent and he saw some of the tension leave Sam's shoulders, the dark shadow leaving his eyes.

"I really do mean that death would be a mercy for her."

"Yeah, well, we're not about killing our friends here, so your plan can stuff it," Dean told him firmly. He held up a hand to keep Ezekiel from speaking up again. "Listen, give us some time. Let us try to find out a solution for Cas and Rose. We'll get Cas tatted up and we'll do some more digging about Rose. Just—don't do anything rash without talkin' to me first, all right?"

There was a brief pause.

"Very well."

When Sam's body rounded the corner Dean slowly released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Beer long forgotten, he fished out a cellphone and scrolled through his contacts before finding the name he was looking for. His call was answered on the second ring.

The yellow '74 Gremlin X rolled down the long abandoned side road, coming to an easy stop where the eldest Winchester waited. It could be a little tricky to see the entry since it was largely below ground level and she had only been there once before and she had been following the brothers. Turning off the car and grabbing her bag from the passenger seat, she smiled and gave a wave as she got out.

"Wassup, Braveheart?" she chirped, meeting Dean halfway for a hug. "Everything okay? Sounded like an SOS on the phone."

"Yeah, things have gotten a little complicated," Dean sighed, giving her a tired sigh. Charlie raised an eyebrow at the vague answer and quickly noticed that they were short one Winchester.

"Hey, where's Sam? Is he okay?"

The corner of his mouth twitched downward in a frown and her stomach fell to her toes.

"Something's wrong," she stated.

"Well, a few things are wrong if I'm being honest," he admitted with another sigh. "Sam being one of them."

"Last I heard you guys were working on the trials? Did you get to the final one?"

"Yeah," he said with a heavy sigh. "It was to turn a demon human again…"

Her eyes widened at the task they were expected to complete. "Is-is that even possible? Sounds more like a Kobayashi Maru if you ask me..."

"Oh, we found a way. Almost finished it too but…" There was a slight catch in his voice. "It would've killed Sam in the process…"

"Oh Dean…" she couldn't help but whisper. "So—what happened when he didn't go through with it?"

His hands slipped into his jacket's pockets and his gaze flickered downward for a moment. "What always happens. We get screwed. Something backfired and the effects of the trials seemed to kick into high gear and Sam was gettin' bad so fast we hardly had enough time to get to the hospital."

"What do you need from me? What can I do to help?" she asked, more than willing to do what she could for them. "Forge some insurance policies? Find some dirt on a doctor that can help? Rally the troops? Do hunters have troops or are they the troops—whatever it is, I can rally 'em."

"Thanks," he said with a hint of a smile, "but actually I need you to research angel possession instead. Specifically—how to kick them out of a vessel."

Charlie blinked in confusion at the request. "Angel possession? What does that—?"

She connected the dots before she finished her question and her mouth fell open. If Sam was hurt so badly that only an angel could help, someone who wasn't Castiel …

"Dean…?"

His jaw tightened. "Sam was dying, what choice did I have?"

Sam. Dying. Possession. Angels. Research. A dozen questions wanted to spill out at once but she actively pushed them aside and tried to form a coherent thought.

"Okay—okay, so Sam…currently has an angel on his shoulder right? So what's the issue, besides the obvious? I'm sure he didn't handle that news well."

When there was a pause, her stunned expression returned and she lowered her voice to a strained whisper rising higher in pitch, affronted.

"Are you telling me that Sam doesn't know that he has an angel riding shotgun?!"

"Like I said, things got complicated," Dean answered shortly, "and that's only half of it."

She threw her hands up in the air in disbelief. "What else could complicate that?!"

"Our friend was brought back from the dead, by who or what we don't know, and is now basically comatose for equally unknown reasons."

A beat.

"I should really stop asking if things can get worse," she groaned, mostly to herself. She took a breath. "So, what friend is undead?"

"Her name's Rose. We're working on her case but I need you to work on Sam's on the down low—"

"Wait…Rose? As in, Rosette Herondale?"

This time Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at her in surprise. "You know each other?"

Busted, she cringed. "No—I'm mean, yes, but not, like, in real life. I mean, I know her in—in theory?"

"Yeah, that clears things right up."

She huffed at the jibe. Might as well be honest. "When I was researching monsters and things that go bump in the night, I came across these books by Carver Edlund—"

The hunter's face fell immediately at the name and that was all the confirmation she needed.

"So the books are true then?" she asked brightly. "Because let me say, thank you for saving the world and everything. Really, really appreciate it."

"We've got to get rid of those books," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. She couldn't help but give a sympathetic frown.

"They're online…" Though she was sorry that the Winchester himself didn't seem to be a fan of his own story, she couldn't help the excited grin that pulled at her lips, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "But wow—you guys have done so much!"

He let loose a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thanks. Still so weird, but thanks."

"So you said Rose is back? How did that happen?" she asked curiously. "The last story was The Man Who Knew Too Much and that was when she died. Total cliffhanger, be-tee-dubs."

"No idea," Dean shrugged. "She was only topside for hardly a day before she collapsed and she hasn't woken up since."

"Well, that's concerning." A thought came to mind and she brightened up. "Hey! Why don't you trying calling Crowley?"

The instant scowl was answer enough but she gave a wave to quickly dismiss his reaction.

"I mean, I get it, King of Hell and everything, but I'd say he's definitely an option since this is Rose we're talking about," she explained. His brows knitted in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean? Because it's Rose?" he asked.

"Seriously?" asked Charlie in surprise. "Didn't—didn't you guys notice that Crowley was nicer when Rose was around?"

This time he laughed out loud at the idea. "I don't know what those books say, but Crowley has never been nice to us."

"Maybe not to you guys directly, but he did help once Rose was brought onto the scene. Like finding the Horsemen, Pestilence and Death?"

"Yeah, and taking Bobby's soul while he was at it," countered Dean. "Real hero material."

"What about when he still didn't collect her deal when it was due? Hm?" she asked. "He could've strong-armed Castiel or—or found some work around, but he didn't."

"So we're supposed to trust him because he didn't kill her? Might be too low of a bar."

"Well, he also healed her when her leg was broken? Back in Weekend at Bobby's."

His brows furrowed again. "She said that Cas had healed her…"

"Well, yeah. Can't really blame her though, you guys would totally freak," she shrugged. Another moment came to mind. "Oh! And when Crowley visited her in Caged Heat and you guys were trying to figure out how to get Sam's soul, when Rose's offered to give up her soul so she could go try to free Sam from the Hell side of things—like a literal soul hack which is so cool, and—"

"Wait, wait!" interrupted Dean. "She was going to give up her soul?!"

"Yeah, but Crowley told her no," she continued, a smile tugging at her lips as it did when she started to get excited about something she was invested in. "He even told her that he would resurrect if anything happened to her, noble cause or not. That she was his in her entirety, that her soul was only a piece of that."

"How in the hell do you know all of that?" asked Dean, incredulous. "I thought the books were about me and Sam?"

"Yeah, you guys are the main characters, but there's side information too which is awesome. It's nice to get to learn more about the characters—people, I mean," she corrected. "Plus it gives more Crose moments, so, yay!"

Eyebrows nearly rose to meet his hairline. "Crose?"

"Oh, y'know…when you ship Crowley and Rose, so Crose…?" she gave a sheepish little laugh. "I'm a bit of a fan…"

He couldn't but groan again as he grouched, "When all of this gets cleared up we need to have a serious talk about Rose givin' up her soul and your taste in reading material."

"I only have one rule: Make a deal. Keep it."

A couple of years ago he had a made a prime example out of the demon, Guy, who was running his scheme of making deals and cashing them in early. It was shortly after the death of Rosette and he had his forces combing for Meg so to bring her to him to exact vengeance for daring to steal from him and alter his deal. When it was brought to his attention that one of his crossroads demons were trying to cheat the system, improve their numbers by killing the humans the week of their deals so to collect their souls, an intense anger tore through him at the arrogance. His anger was justified, of course. That kind of dealing would be the downfall for their kind. No one would sell their soul if they would die in the same week.

Looking back, he could see where he may have been…a bit overzealous. He had beaten him into a bloody pulp, never allowing the reprieve of finally dying. In fact he was still strung up in some obscure corner of Hell, if he recalled correctly. He certainly didn't hold back, nor did he regret it. It struck too close to him. Too close…

"Just in case there was the shadow of a doubt…When I make a deal, I stick to it even when angels interfere. So there's no need to worry about some underhanded plot to kill you before your new time."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

The chains rattled as he gave a start and was momentarily disoriented by the all dark room and iron collar locked around his neck. Had he been dozing off? He was a demon and didn't need sleep. He gave an annoyed growl, trying to work his way out of the handcuffs again which only aggravated the barely healed abrasions circling his wrists.

How much time had passed since he was left alone again?

"Rosette…"

She was alive, she was alive, she was alive…His mind couldn't stop repeating the words like a mantra. Countless days—years were spent thinking of the moment where he would be reunited with her. That moment when he would be the one to save her from whatever hell she was subjected to all this time. He would save her…

But he didn't.

And then she was standing right there in front of him. All wide blue eyes, messy red hair, and even the hand-me-down Winchester clothes. After so long imagining what it would be like to see her again, he certainly didn't plan on massive cardiac arrest. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he could only stare up at her, injuries and chains forgotten.

His heart then contracted painfully when he heard his words escape him, accusing the Winchesters of trying to trick him, and saw her expression fall at his tone. Her voice was soft and trembled as she spoke to him.

"You…you couldn't find me…?"

He failed her, he failed her, he failed her…the words wouldn't stop echoing in his head. She trusted him, put her faith in him and he let her down in the worst way possible. Before he could try to figure out what to say, she pulled out a chain that was hidden by the collar of her shirt and he recognized the MacLeod signet ring. He was openly staring at her now, unsure if he was even breathing at this point. Why would she still have that? Did she always wear it before? Had he forgotten? She was still—she was still holding onto that piece—that reminder of his wretched humanity?

"It's me…I promise…"

Then she did the most wonderfully Rosette thing and she smiled at him. After everything, she still showed him that undeserved kindness…

And he begged for her forgiveness.

"Crowley—"

No sooner had she said his name that everything was ripped out from under their feet once again. She suddenly froze before collapsing to the floor. She didn't react when he shouted for her, when he thrashed against his restraints. She didn't so much as flinch when Sam, Dean, and Castiel came barging into the dungeon or when the youngest carefully lifted her into his arms. While the action was well-meaning, a surge of anger and jealousy tore through him as he glared, daring to snarl as he demanded to know what happened. Only to watch on helplessly as she was carried out of the room and away from him.

Now he had lost track of how much time had properly passed and there was no sign of anyone bothering to stop by and update him. What happened? Why did it happen? Where was she all this time when he was searching for her? He had too many questions and no answers. If he could just get out of these bloody cuffs then he could help—

There was a creak and the dungeon door opened, causing a smirk to form and hazel eyes to gleam.

"Hello, Squirrel."

REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved as always! Again, I'm so sorry for the delay. The chapter layout changed and somethings had to be adjusted, plus work and life kept getting in the way. I'm hoping to have the next one out sooner since I'm so excited to write it and have been planning it for ages. Lots going on on this chapter, but next chapter will be Crowley and Rose, so excited for you all to read it!

I hope you enjoyed and your thoughts would be loved!