Chapter Text
“Bobby?” Xal stopped just inside the library, holding Drysdusa to his chest.
Bobby finished writing his sentence before looking up from the desk with a, “Yeah?”
“Could you…” he wet his lips, “…help me with a… project? Kind of?” He winced at his own wording, but he didn’t want to tip his hand until he had some kind of agreement.
Surprisingly, Bobby kept his suspicion to an eyebrow raise. “That’s certainly a question.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What’cha need, boy?”
Xal swallowed. “I want to make a protection ward…” or ten, “…for Drysdusa.” He glanced down at her. “I just figure things are gonna get pretty dangerous, and she’s blind, so that makes it worse, and, uh, I know what I want to try, but it has to be a lot stronger than it naturally is, and—”
“You wanna ward the cat,” Bobby intoned dryly.
“Kitten,” Xal corrected weakly.
Bobby dipped his head slightly. “You wanna ward the kitten.” He paused, thought for a moment, and then sighed. “Okay. What are we looking at?”
Cautiously hopeful, Xal approached the desk and put Drysdusa on top, scratching her sides. “I need to make her my familiar.” He quickly decided he didn’t want her too close to Bobby and pulled her against his chest again.
Bobby didn’t seem to notice and focused on the conversation, arching a brow. “Like a witch’s familiar?” He paused but continued before Xal could answer. “Makes sense. Have a connection, heighten her senses, give her some fortification…” He nodded, accepting the idea. “What else?”
“A soul bond. It will keep her from dying before me by automatically pulling from my soul to keep her alive.” Xal barely took a breath. “I also want to put a forcefield around her. I used to be able to make a field that could sense malicious intent and automatically activate.”
Bobby pursed his lips. “So, it wouldn’t protect from a stray bullet or a fall down the stairs, but it would protect from an intentionally fired bullet or a push down the stairs.”
“Exactly. And then we’ll need another ward to suppress the energy given off by all these other wards so supernatural creatures won’t realize she’s not a normal kitten.” Xal rubbed her head a few times, smiling when she nibbled on his fingertips. “But some of these spells I haven’t used in a long time. I… don’t even know if they’re going to work, honestly.”
“Won’t know until we try.” Bobby gestured toward the kitchen. “Drag a chair in here, and we’ll start drawing up some plans.”
Xal felt a spark of excitement and something warm in his chest. “Okay.”
“Seems like this Crowley guy is going out of his way to get our attention.” Dean frowned, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “He wants us to find him.”
“Maybe.” Sam offered a shrug from his side of the library. “It could be some kind of trap.”
Dean looked at the almost entirely recovered demon sitting on the couch. “Hey, Hellcat. Is Crowley the kinda guy who plays games?”
Xal turned his head toward Dean, and he had a look in his eye that Dean had been struggling to decipher for weeks now. It wasn’t dead and lifeless, but it was apathetic, and it wasn’t whimpering and pleading, but it was submissive, and it wasn’t the abject terror it had been before, but it was cautious and tense. Dean had spent the last several days trying to figure out what it meant—trying to figure out if the demon was wearing it on purpose or didn’t even know it was there—and until he could do that, he wasn’t sure what to expect.
“I think most demons are game-players, and if he’s in a high position…” Xal gave a sideways kind of nod. “Yeah, he probably used a lot of mind tricks and backstabbing to get there.”
“Makes sense.” Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knows more about Crowley than he’s letting on. How much more, Dean wasn’t sure, but it was more.
“We have to out-play him, then.” Sam paused. “We need a backup plan.”
Bobby snorted, adjusting his ballcap. “Like what?”
Castiel stared at the floor, thoughtful. “Maybe we could split into groups. Make it seem like some of us are in the location we believe Crowley is while others are looking somewhere else, when in reality, we’re all in the same place.”
Xal shook his head. “If he knows enough about our movements to be leaving such an obvious trail, he knows enough to confirm if we’re all in the same town.” His eyes flickered to Dean, then Sam, and then the floor.
“Well, he hasn’t come knocking, and he definitely knows we’re in Sioux Falls.” If the seven cases of demonic activity all happening twenty to thirty miles away from Sioux Falls in various directions wasn’t proof, Dean didn’t know what was. “So, he wants something from us.”
“Leverage?” Sam offered.
Bobby shook his head. “That brings back the ‘why hasn’t he come knocking yet’ issue.”
“We’re pretty guarded in here,” Sam countered. “And we have the panic room.”
“Well, why would he wait until there’s a pattern to let us know he’s up to something?” Xal shifted his bare feet, one of which was still dark gray, against the floor. “Even if Bobby and I have been here, all three of you went to that first case of demonic activity, so he could have just grabbed you then and waited for us to come get you.”
Dean snapped his fingers and pointed to Xal. “What he said. He doesn’t just want to get his hands on us, he wants us to know it’s coming.” He looked at Sam and Castiel, who were both by the archway to the hall. “So, we can keep playing the game on his terms and wait to see what he does, or we can go on the offensive, and the next time he gives us a clue...”
“We go for the throat,” Sam finished with a nod.
“And hope we don’t die,” Bobby tacked on sarcastically.
Dean smirked, but he didn’t miss the way Xal glanced off to the side, and the hunter couldn’t be completely sure, but he thought he saw the demon’s throat bobbing. Great. Dean rolled his eyes internally, keeping his outward expression engaged in whatever Castiel was adding to the conversation. Can’t wait to find out what you’re hiding, Hellcat.
Xal took a deep breath, looking up at the building where Crowley was supposedly waiting for them. It’s all gonna come out. He swallowed and tried to calm his racing heart, bluish eyes flickering across the two-story, Victorian home. They’re gonna kill me. Not literally, but they would make him wish they would. Maybe I should tell them. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it; didn’t want to think about it. Once they know, they’re going to make you talk, anyway.
“You look like you’ve seen a vengeful spirit.” Sam slowed as they walked the length of rotted picket fence toward the old home. “What’s wrong?”
Xal forced a quick smile. “Just not sure what to expect.” He licked his upper lip. “King of the Crossroads… sounds pretty powerful.”
Sam smiled back, not nearly as forced, but tainted with sadness and guilt. “Well, we’re not gonna leave you behind this time.”
“Mmhmm.” Xal didn’t bother making eye contact because he knew he couldn’t feign the confidence or sincerity to go with it. Maybe I should tell Sam. Even if I just say something to hint that there might be some not-so-great discoveries—
But what if Crowley didn’t say anything? What if he had something else up his sleeve? It would be just like him to find Xal after the fact and tell him if he didn’t behave, Crowley was going to tell the Winchesters everything.
What do I do? What do I do?
Dean pulled the gate open, and Bobby moved in with Dean sticking to his side, followed by Castiel, and then Sam with Xal in the back. They walked the concrete and stone path up to the wooden steps, and Castiel started to deviate.
“I’m going to look around the back for—”
“Nope.” Dean shut the idea down immediately. “We already decided we’re sticking together. He knows we’re coming, he knows we’re here, and we know he doesn’t want to kill us. Get your butt over here.”
Xal focused on breathing, footsteps halting and arms stiff at his sides. They went onto the raised porch, through the front door, and it was silently determined they would spread out, but only a little. Dean poked his head into the living room on the right, and Bobby leaned toward the library on the left, all of them looking around and examining the rooms without entering them.
Bluish eyes drifted over the moldy, water-stained wallpaper and hardwood floors. It was dim, but even if Xal didn’t have demonic sight, he was pretty sure the morning sun streaming through the sheers would be enough to see by. There were oil paintings on the walls, and the blue and yellow flowers somehow brought him a sense of peace as they made their way through the second floor.
“Hello, boys.”
And then the peace shattered.
“You certainly took your sweet time.” Crowley smirked from where he lounged behind a desk, idly toying with a chess piece.
Dean took the lead with a scoff and a, “Yeah, traffic was terrible. Where are your minions?”
Crowley ignored the question, eyes drifting to the back of the group. “Xael. Long time, no see. How have you been?”
Trying to ignore the tension that could now be cut with a knife, Xal folded his arms over his chest. “Every day that passed without thinking of you was a good one, so I’ve been great.”
“You wound me,” Crowley replied, not quite dry but lacking any sincerity, and then he looked at Dean again. “But Xael’s just an old trophy; hardly worth talking about. We need to chat.”
Xal kept his eyes on Crowley, partly because of his lacking trust in the creature, but mostly because he was terrified of catching one of his handlers’ eyes.
“Chat about what?” Sam asked, feigning a casual air.
“Lilith, of course.” Crowley steepled his fingers, resting them on his stomach as he casually turned the leather-padded chair from side to side. “I have a way to get rid of her, but my opportunities to employ it are… limited.”
Dean snorted. “Right. King of the Crossroads wants the Demon Queen dead.”
Sighing theatrically, Crowley rolled his eyes. “You might not know this, seeing as you’ve never had a corporate job, but you don’t become CEO by playing nice.”
Xal tensed, and as much as he hated the thought of Crowley being in charge, he would have preferred Crowley over Lilith any day.
Bobby snorted. “You want us to help you take over Hell?”
“No, no, Hades, no.” Crowley waved a hand in the air. “I want you to help yourselves. It just so happens I’ll be benefitting from your success as well.”
Castiel’s voice came out almost as flat as usual, but there was a tinge of suspicion in it. “An act that would put us back into our current situation, no doubt.”
“Do you think it will, Xael?”
Xal narrowed his eyes, meeting Crowley’s gaze evenly. “I have no idea. I don’t know you. I cross paths with you once every couple hundred years, and I spend the rest of my time forgetting you exist.”
“Oh, Xael. You and I both know you’ve never been able to forget me.” Crowley smirked when Xal growled, but then he lifted one hand as his expression shifted to a faux surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll play pretend. Because even if you don’t know me, you know about me. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t, given our… history.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Xal snarled, baring his teeth and hoping the lie wasn’t obvious. “Just talk to them and leave me alone.”
“What do you know about him?” Dean demanded, clearly unhappy.
Silently swearing, Xal proceeded as carefully as he could. “He’s a salesman, and he definitely doesn’t care about serving anyone other than himself. If he were in charge, he wouldn’t try to find another way to free Lucifer because Lucifer is a threat to him. Lilith is devoted to Lucifer, but Crowley is devoted to Crowley.”
Crowley smirked, polishing his nails on the lapel of his wool coat.
“I know—” he swallowed, his throat dry, “—that Lilith holds all the contracts, so she would work closely with Crowley, because he’s the one running the way the Crossroads Deals are made. But I have no idea what kind of relationship they do or don’t have. I don’t know if she’s ever tried to get rid of him, or vice versa.” Heat spread through his chest as Crowley continued to look at him, his facial expression unchanged, but his very essence—something the humans in the room probably weren’t attuned to—was lofty and mocking. “I wasn’t lying. I don’t know him.” He stepped forward, claws forming from his fingertips. “So stop trying to convince them I know you when the only thing I know—” he slammed his hands on the desk, “is how much I’d like to strap you to a rack and skin you!”
“Ooh, spicy.”
Xal growled and lunged forward, but two arms wound around his waist and pulled him back.
“Xochiquetzal, stop.”
Digging his claws into Castiel’s arms, Xal pulled against the hold, but it was a weak struggle. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to fly off the handle, but when he saw those coldly amused eyes and felt the energy in the room shaking with laughter, he just—
“Xal seems to hate your guts,” Sam mused, voice both cautious and calculating, “but he thinks it would be better to deal with you than Lilith. Because you’re weaker?”
“You wound me,” was the flat response, dark eyes rolling. “If I’m trying to solicit help from a band of humans and two supernatural dropouts, I would think my power level in comparison to hers would be obvious.” He pushed himself to his feet and strolled over to the bookshelf on his right. “If I had to guess, Xael would prefer me because of our similarities when it comes to obtaining power.”
Castiel tightened his hold on Xal’s waist, unbothered by the talons in his forearms. “Elaborate.”
“We achieve a certain goal, and we generally remain satisfied with it.” Crowley toyed with the white bishop, tossing it in the air and catching it repeatedly. “Xael has immortality and powers, and he’s content with that, so he doesn’t try to climb the ladder. Likewise, once I take Lilith’s place, I don’t intend to keep climbing. I’m a businessman—a politician, at the worst—not a supervillain. Once you reach a certain level of success, continuing to ascend takes far more effort than its worth, and as long as you don’t have a fragile ego or something to prove, there’s really no point in expending that effort.”
“And we’re just supposed to take your word for it, huh?” Dean paused, and out of the corner of his eye, Xal though he saw the hunter adjust his hold on the demon-killing knife. “Just trust you in good faith?”
Crowley chuckled. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to take a second and think it over, but intentions can’t be proven. You know that.”
Xal pulled against Castiel’s hold. “Knowing you, you’ll change the entire deal-making process to make it more efficient. Like you said, you’re a businessman. You want sales through the roof.”
“It’s better than the alternative. You either get me taking advantage of people stupid enough to go through the steps of summoning my employees, or you get Lilith torturing and killing people who don’t go looking for it.” Crowley shrugged, tossing the bishop in the air and flicking his hand, telekinesis sending the piece flying through the opposite wall. “Regardless of what you do, you’re not going to stop hunting Lilith, and when you finally get her, I’m going to be taking her place. It’s just a matter of taking the slow way, where you bumbling morons put together some hodgepodge plan that just barely works, or the quick way, where I give you the means and you provide the ends.”
“Dean,” Sam started softly, a willingness to consider in his voice. “He has a point.”
Dean wasn’t convinced, and he never took his eyes off Crowley; not even when the bishop splintered the wood and plaster. “I don’t care. I’m not making a deal with him.”
Crowley chuckled. “You technically already did.”
Dean tensed.
“Lilith gave me your contract to hold onto, given how… special it was.”
Sam and Bobby barely kept Dean from launching himself across the room, managing to stop him before Sam begged a question of his own. “By your own admission, you work directly with Lilith. Why should we believe you’re not working with her right now?”
“You shouldn’t. That would be incredibly idiotic.” Crowley slipped his hands into his pockets. “Almost as idiotic as me trying to trick you in such a blatant and obvious way.”
“Yeah,” Bobby scoffed, unphased. “Like that would keep you from trying it.”
Xal couldn’t help but smirk at that, the dig erasing some of the heat in his veins. He relaxed a bit, no longer pushing against Castiel’s hold, and as a result, the angel let him go.
“We need some time to think.” Sam, ever the analytical one, kept a hand on Dean’s shoulder, no doubt to prevent a fight. “Just let us—”
“I’m not going to set up a new time and place to meet you. Clock’s ticking.”
Dean looked at Sam, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he looked at Bobby. Xal made sure his eyes were back on Crowley before the trio looked his way again.
“What’s your history with Xal?” Dean asked.
Xal didn’t let himself break eye contact, heart pounding.
Crowley smirked. “Little Xael took my virginity.”
“What the—?”
“Not that virginity!” Xal rushed, looking at the humans with a note of panic.
“There is more than one kind of virginity?” Castiel whispered, thoroughly confused.
Crowley chuckled. “He was my first deal. Thousands of rotations ago, when I was just an entry-level sales rep, I talked him into a contract.” He let out an almost whimsical sigh. “And look at us now.”
Xal swallowed, trying to stare the demon down but finding it hard not to remember the moment they shook hands. “He was my deal holder. That’s all. It was thousands of years ago, and there has never been a person I wanted to destroy more. I’m not going to choose him over you.” He looked at Dean, eyes desperate and pleading. “I’m not on his side. I promise.”
“Right.” Dean glared at the King of the Crossroads. “I’m not signing a contract. You can work with us on a case-by-case basis. You blink wrong, and you’re at the top of the hit list.”
“You’re such a flirt.” Crowley reached into his pocket and tossed a key to Dean. “Check the desk drawer. I think you’ll find it helpful. I’ll be in touch.”
Suddenly, the room was down to five occupants, and Xal swallowed as discreetly as possible before turning to Dean with a rushed, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—”
“This trust thing goes both ways.” Dena’s voice was hard, green eyes unwavering. “You can’t hide intel and expect us to treat you like part of the team.”
But I’m not part of the team. “I didn’t think… I didn’t want…” Xal sighed, averting his eyes. He knew he didn’t have a good excuse—not good enough for them, that is—so he offered a feeble, “I was hoping it wouldn’t matter.”
Dean didn’t respond right away, and even though he wasn’t yelling, his face made it very clear how he felt about the turn of events. “What else should we know about you and Crowley?”
“There really isn’t anything else. I bump into him sometimes, but I do all I can to avoid him. About a thousand years ago, he tried to convince me to become a crossroads demon, and I told him to… do unsavory things with a mule.” Clearing his throat, Xal scratched at his thighs, claws slowly melting back into fingers the longer he went without Crowley in the room. “I know sales went up when he was promoted. He’s good at his job.” He shrugged helplessly.
Sam moved closer but stayed a half-step behind Dean. “What did you get for it?”
Heat rushed to his cheeks. “It was a dumb thing. It doesn’t matter.”
It was silent, everyone simultaneously telling him his answer wasn’t acceptable.
“It was…” Xal rubbed his face, trying to hide it more than anything. “It was a meal. With meat. I had never had meat before.”
There was more silence, but it was a different variety, and then Dean’s voice broke it.
“You sold your soul… for some chicken nuggets?”
Xal kept his head down. “It was lamb.”
“You sold your so—”
“I was really hungry.” Xal held out one hand, trying to physically push the discussion away, his right palm pressing his eye to the point he saw stars. “It was stupid. It was dumb. I know that. You don’t have to—”
Sam’s voice cut in, much calmer and kinder than Dean’s. “How old were you?”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Xal looked at the younger brother with something like desperation in his eyes. “It was an idiotic thing to do no matter what, so—”
“How old were you?” Sam repeated simply, no additional insistence in his voice.
Xal hooked his thumbs in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling, groaning theatrically to hide the insecurities and memories coursing through him. “I was eight. Okay? I was eight, I was stupid, I was hungry and poor and never tasted lamb before, and did I mention I was stupid?” He started speaking faster, face turned to the floor and redder by the second, caught in a downhill tumble of wanting to keep his mouth shut because he was embarrassed and wanting to explain the context in detail because he was embarrassed. “I didn’t even know what a soul was. I didn’t understand life and death and—and all I knew about supernatural entities was that every other week, we would light stuff on fire that made us really high, only I didn’t know what high was back then, I just knew it felt good, and we would dance around, and it was supposed to give us protection and connect our souls to the heavens because the smoke went up, and you wanted your soul to go up because that’s where the heavens were, and if you didn’t go up with the smoke you got dragged down into the waters, and nobody wanted to go down there, but I didn’t know there was actually something down there, it was just like being afraid of the dark, and there was no concept of—”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam took Xal by the shoulders and lowered his voice. “Deep breath.”
Xal put his chin to his chest, heart racing, skin burning, soul twisting. “I’m not gonna do anything he asks. If he tells me anything, I’ll tell you right away. I hate him—I despise him—and you don’t have to worry about me going behind your back to cooperate with him. I promise.”
Sam didn’t jump to respond, speaking carefully. “I’m… not worried about you working with him. I don’t think you’ll do that.” He squeezed Xal’s upper arms. “If someone took advantage of me like that, I don’t think I would be willing to do anything for them, either.”
“Please don’t make me talk about it.” Xal swallowed, sensing the sympathetic, personal-therapist approach Sam was trying to take.
“…I won’t.” Sam squeezed again and let go of Xal’s arms. “What’s in the drawer, Dean?”
Sensing the conversation was over, Dean walked around the desk and leaned down with the key to unlock the drawer. He fought with it for a moment and pulled it open, swearing immediately. “It’s the Colt.” He lifted the weapon from the compartment. “We might actually be able to kill Lilith with this.”
“And if we kill her before the right number of seals are broken,” Sam continued the thought, a sense of excitement in his voice as he turned toward his brother, “this whole thing gets derailed.”
Bobby approached the desk, holding a hand out for the relic. “It’s supposed to be able to kill anything, but…” he sucked air through his teeth, tilting his head, “…might not be smart to put all our eggs in one basket.”
Xal took a couple steps toward the closest wall, slipping his arms around his stomach as he faded into the background. I knew this was going to happen. He clutched his black sweatshirt, knuckles white against the fabric. Why did it have to be him? Of everyone who could help them get out of this mess, why did it have to be Crowley? He shuddered through a breath, but he kept the inhale discreet enough that no one could tell. Not that they were looking, but that wasn’t the point. They could glance over at any given moment, and he didn’t know when that moment might be, so he had to act as if they were watching everything.
“Hello, there, little one. You’ve wandered pretty far from the village.”
Screwing his eyes shut, Xal willed every thought, every image, every smell out of his mind. It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter. He wet his lips and straightened up, taking another breath. “It should be able to kill Lilith.” He kept his eyes on the doorway they had originally come through, not ready to make accidental eye contact. “Sam was supposed to kill her with his powers, which work on regular demons, and based on what you told me about your encounters with her, regular demon weapons like a trap or the knife have at least some kind of effect. It might not do to her what it does to a regular demon, but it does do something. If there’s a creature out there the Colt can’t kill, I’m going to bet it’s too powerful to be affected by the things that would harm or kill the lowest ranking members of its species.”
“I would agree with Xochiquetzal on that.” Castiel didn’t even glance in the demon’s direction. Of course, he didn’t blink or breathe or twitch his brow, either. “For example, if an archangel could be wounded by a regular angel blade, I would be even more confident something like the Colt could kill them. It lowers them on the scale of invincibility.”
“So, if you’re both saying it’s likely this can kill her…”
Xal wet his lips, gaze drifting down to his black boots. He wanted to go back to the Impala and get Drysdusa. They didn’t need him anymore, right? They’re not going to let you out of their sight after what just happened. You’re lucky Dean didn’t kill you. He swallowed, twisting his fists in his sweatshirt a little more. He can’t kill you. If he kills you, you go back to Hell. But Castiel can kill you. Bobby can kill you. You only made the deal with the Winchesters, so—
“Hey!”
Startling, Xal jerked his head up and found Dean standing in front of him.
“Earth to Hellcat, come in Hellcat. Do you copy?”
Xal nodded, unable to speak.
“We’re getting out of here.” Dean jerked his head toward the door. “We don’t wanna be here if Crowley decides to send his goons to clean up after him.”
All Xal could do was offer another tense, wordless nod and follow them out of the building.
“I hope you realize you are the only thing standing between Xal and a serious beatdown right now.” Dean took another swig of beer and slammed the bottle down. “He knew Crowley, and he said he didn’t.”
“I know,” Sam uttered softly, looking into his own, essentially untouched beverage.
Dean continued as if he hadn’t heard. “And we’re not talking ‘met for a drink five hundred years ago’ knew him. Crowley wrote his freaking contract. Sealed the deal with him.” His face screwed up. “You don’t think they still use a kiss for that, right? I mean, the kid was eight. That’s… eugh.”
Sam sighed, tapping the side of his bottle as his eyes drifted around the bar. “If you were in his position, would you admit to knowing Crowley?”
“I’m not in his position. He got himself where he is; he doesn’t get to use that as an excuse.” Dean scoffed and took another drink. “And what happened to the ‘I know my place now’ crap? Clearly, he doesn’t.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam looked at him in bewilderment and disgust. “He said he understands our positions. He didn’t say, ‘I’m gonna do whatever you want now.’ He said the opposite of that. He said he’s going to do what we want until what we want becomes too big of a threat to him.” He continued to rant, visibly struggling to keep his voice down. “He’s doing a cost-benefit analysis every time he interacts with us to figure out which moves will cause him the least amount of suffering. So what does it say about us that he wouldn’t admit his history with Crowley? That he wouldn’t admit to being a kid who was tricked six thousand years ago and hasn’t been involved with the guy since?”
Dean arched his brow. “Tell me how you really feel.”
Scoffing, Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, Dean. Just dismiss it.”
“Dude, I’m not about to feel sorry for a demon.” Dean opened his mouth to continue, but Sam cut him off with a very familiar, very cold gaze leveled at him. It was the one he always wore when he was pushed to his limit. Dean’s temper always ran hot; Sam’s did the same all the way up to the moment he hit unadulterated rage. Then it turned to ice.
“I guess I wasn’t thinking about your time in Hell.”
Dean froze.
“It must feel good to have someone terrified of you again.”
Dean processed. He saw red.
And after he launched himself across the table, he wasn’t really sure what happened.
“You’re back. Bobby and I were—what happened?” Xal jerked to a halt a few steps into the kitchen, trying to decide if he should back up or rush forward. “Did someone attack you? Did Crowley stick a tail on you? Did—”
“Oh, no.” Dean wiped blood from his mouth with a bitter snort, shouldering past his brother and going for the fridge. “That busted nose was all me.”
Sam sneered back, “Here’s hoping I didn’t shatter your eye socket.”
Dean grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer and pressed it to the eye in question with a derisive, “Cute, but you’re not nearly as strong as you think you are, Sammy.”
“Oh?” Sam continued holding a dirty shop rag to his face. “I just assumed, with the way you were whimpering and crying, that it must’ve hurt pretty bad.”
Bobby sighed from behind Xal. “What did you two idjits do?”
Xal took a half step back, pulse thundering in his ears.
“Go on, Sam.” Dean uttered a ‘tch’ noise. “Tell him why I gave you a bloody nose.”
“I’d love to, Dean.” Sam extended his rag-holding hand but immediately brought it back when his nose started gushing. “I said Dean must enjoy having someone terrified of him again. He hasn’t had that little bit of joy since he was torturing people in Hell.”
Bobby sighed. “What are you—?”
“You punched him over that?” Xal stared at Dean, confused and disturbed, and then he looked at Sam, barely able to find his voice. “And you hit him back?”
Everyone in the room looked confused, but their expressions didn’t capture even a fraction of the dumbfounded shock Xal was feeling.
“You’re brothers. You’re not supposed to hit each other.” Xal opened his mouth to continue, but he was speechless, and his heart was racing faster with every second.
“Brothers hit each other all the time, Hellcat. It’s practically a requirement.”
Xal felt like he was the only sane person in the room. “What are you—? What?” He shook his head. “You don’t hit the people you love. You learn that when you’re, like, three.”
Sam sniffed, probably to clear the blood away. “Nobody likes it, but it happens. People who love each other are gonna get into fights. We—”
“Are you stupid?” Xal all but shouted. “You don’t get to just decide you care more about getting your anger out and making yourself feel better than you do about the person you claim to love! You don’t do that! And if you do do that, you definitely don’t accept it as a normal part of a relationship! You—” He skidded to a halt, silenced by the blend of surprise and defensiveness on their faces. “I’m overstepping,” he muttered, pulling his hands in close. “I—sorry. It’s none of my—sorry.” He buffered for a moment, moving stiffly, and all he could manage to make his vessel do was turn and leave, grabbing Drysdusa off the floor as he made a beeline for the exit.
They’re like that with each other? His throat tightened, pulse skyrocketing as he ran through the barely illuminated scrapyard. I’m never safe. If they do that to each other—to family—over a disagreement or some hurt feelings, then it doesn’t matter what I do for them or how much I prove myself. I’ll always be in danger. Even if the damage isn’t permanent, even if they let me back in after the fact, they’re still going to hurt me to make themselves feel better. He tried to catch his breath, struggling not to clutch Drysdusa too tight, and he didn’t know what he wanted to do beyond getting away from the house. It's all chance. It’s all a matter of what kind of mood they’re in when I screw up. I can’t earn safety or protection because the second they don’t like what I do, regardless of how they treat me normally, they’ll punish me based on how they feel in the moment. Running faster, he navigated with his eyes but experienced a kind of blindness in his brain where he wasn’t really sure where he was or what was happening. He clung desperately to the sensation of soft fur and night air, fending off the needles and knife tips.
“Go ahead. Pick one.”
He thought he heard Drysdusa mewing, but that cool air was starting to feel hotter.
“How? You said it’s not random, so—”
“Do you really think I’m going to tell you?”
Xal glanced up at the sky, navy melting into to ash as a slick hand trailed across his neck. He wheezed, eyes burning, heart pounding.
“But I can’t pick if I don’t know what I’m trying to do.”
“Too bad, so sad. You have to.”
“Just tell me the rules! Please!”
“How do you know there are any?”
“Because… because you said there were!”
“Well, maybe I was lying then. Or maybe I’m lying now. Who knows?”
Xal clenched his jaw, and he wished more than anything he could just leave his vessel. He just didn’t want to be there, in that body, in that moment, with that brain. But the ward kept him bound, and even if it didn’t, he couldn’t leave Drysdusa. She wasn’t safe now, either.
It’s never been safe. It wasn’t that they tricked him before—it wasn’t that he got too close and let himself trust them—it was that even if they did like him, and did trust him, and did want him around, there would never be a guarantee of safety. It would always be tentative and fragile; conditional and based on rules he couldn’t possibly hope to understand or predict.
And I’m bound to them. I have to keep them alive. I have to be here. He wondered how much his lungs would be burning if he weren’t impervious to lacking oxygen. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I should leave. I could go to another country. Even if one of them dies, would the other really come overseas just to kill me because they can? He swallowed. But Castiel… I don’t know if I can hide from him forever. He could find me—he could fly whichever brother is still alive to where I am. He felt sick, but he knew it wasn’t stomach acid rising in his throat. What do I do? What am I supposed to do?
“Xochiquetzal. D—”
Xal whirled around and let go of Drysdusa with one hand, summoning his claws and tearing into the arm connected to the hand on his shoulder. “Get away from me!”
Castiel lifted his arm, watching the blood drip. “This is the second time today you’ve done this to me.” He dropped it to his side and looked at Xal. “I don’t know what’s happening. Dean summoned me and told me to find you and make sure everything is…” He trailed off, probably realizing everything was not okay.
“Stay away from me,” Xal hissed, taking a few steps of retreat himself. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Just don’t.” He felt little claws on his collarbone, a quiet mew reaching his ears, and he pushed through the panic enough to realize he was probably scaring or even hurting her. “I’m leaving.”
Castiel tilted his head. “Where are you going?”
I wish I knew. “Somewhere none of you will find me.”
“You… want to leave indefinitely?” Castiel seemed bothered and bewildered. “I do not understand. What happened?” He almost took a step, but Xal hissed, and he quickly put his foot back on the ground. “Everyone is upset, and I don’t know why.”
Xal swallowed, shaking his head. “Sam and Dean got into a fight. That’s why they’re all beat up.” He swallowed again, easing the trembling hold he had on Drysdusa. “I can’t stay here.”
Frowning, Castiel cocked his head just a bit.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Xal scoffed, rolling his stinging eyes. “Of course you don’t.” He met Castiel’s gaze with a blunt explanation. “It’s not safe.” He rubbed the soft ears that touched his chin as Drysdusa continued to claw her way up. “If they’re willing to attack each other, do you have any idea what they’ll do to me?”
Castiel didn’t respond at first, increasingly thoughtful, and his lips slowly parted. “I… don’t believe they would hurt you if you didn’t give them a reason.”
“And what’s a reason?” Xal couldn’t keep the terror out of his voice. “Huh? What’s a reason? Which actions are safe and which ones aren’t? Which ones will upset Dean but not Sam? What about the other way around? What about making you angry? What about Bobby? What if someone has a headache? What if someone’s in a bad mood, and something that wouldn’t normally set them off suddenly has the potential to do just that?”
“Xochiquetzal, I don’t think it’s as treacherous as—”
“Of course you don’t, asinego!” Xal screamed but dropped his volume immediately, growling out the continuation. “Because you’re an angel. You and your siblings, oh-so-powerful, telepathically connected to each other, fluttering in and out whenever and wherever you want.”
“That’s not enti—”
“You’ve never been alone, Castiel. You’ve never spent every second of every day completely outnumbered. You’ve never gone from one minute to the next, and then the next, and then the next knowing you are the only one who cares what happens to you. Staring down the barrel of eternity’s shotgun and knowing it’s all on you. No one’s going to help you, no one’s going to protect you, no one’s going to fight for you except you.” Xal placed his free hand over the one pressed to Drysdusa, bluish-gray staring into nothing but blue as he tried to fend off the temptation of bitterness. “Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Knowing if you make the wrong call,” like offering a deal to a Winchester, “or trust the wrong person,” like a Winchester, “or do the wrong thing at the wrong time,” like whatever he did to get on the Winchester radar in the first place, “and it all blows up in your face, you will have no one to blame, no one to complain to, no one to help you put the pieces back together but yourself.”
Castiel stared, not saying anything, thousands of processes running through his eyes. Xal stared right back, chest heaving as he panted, face damp.
“That… sounds very unpleasant.”
“It is,” Xal rasped, still trying to figure out how to get away. They know my history with Mesopotamia. I can’t go there.
Castiel moved his lips slowly. “I would… like to have the opportunity to…” His eyes scanned back and forth, as if reading a script, and then made contact. “I don’t… understand humans. I don’t think like they do. But…” He buffered for a moment. “But I am willing to… I want to learn. I have been watching Sam and Dean and Bobby, trying to figure it out myself, but… if you are willing to teach me…” his averted his eyes, “…perhaps I can succeed where humanity has failed.”
Xal blinked. “…what?”
“I do not know how to be a friend to someone.” Castiel spoke in a clearer, more confident tone as he looked back at the demon. “But I would like to learn. You seem to want a friend. It would be most efficient to combine our goals into one.”
Xal blinked again. “…what?”
Castiel’s hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to do something with them. “Would you be… willing to consider an… alliance of sorts?”
Third blink.
“I like your… essence.”
Fourth blink.
“I enjoy when we are in the same room.” Castiel wet his lips. “It is similar to the way I feel with our humans, but there is a… kinship with you I cannot have with them.”
Finally able to speak, Xal huffed out an incredulous laugh. “What, because I can insult you in dead languages?”
“Yes,” Castiel answered unironically. “We have seen things they cannot begin to imagine. They can’t retain the vast quantities of memories and knowledge we can. We are… more alike than I wanted us to be. And I suppose that is the kind of thing one should pay penance for.”
Xal squinted. Penance?
“You…” Castiel struggled, and for a moment, Xal was certain his cheeks were getting red. “You proved to be more competent than I was.”
What?
“You healed Dean, you made me see what Heaven was planning, you knew spells and rituals I had never even heard of…” He sighed, gaze wandering to the side. “I thought I knew everything because I was told so much. But you… were told nothing. You learned instead.”
Xal scoffed. “And look where that got me. Crawling on my hands and knees for six thousand years, trying to please everyone so I don’t spend my life in agony.”
“Exactly.” Castiel stepped forward, and he didn’t stop when Xal tensed. “You can teach me how to learn. You can teach me what humanity has taught you. And I will teach you how to stare down your enemies and ensure they are the ones begging for mercy, not you.”
Swallowing, Xal shook his head. “You…” He exhaled, realizing it was pointless to try and make Castiel understand that Xal would never be able to make anyone beg for anything. “The last thing I need is another deal.”
“I don’t want to make a deal. I want to make a friend.” Castiel somehow said that in the same monotone he delivered his recon updates in. “I think you would like that, too.”
Eyes widened, hands trembling against Drysdusa’s tiny body. Dry lips, tight throat, and an indecipherable whirlwind he frantically tried to pull just one coherent thought from.
Castiel said nothing, waiting patiently, but there was nervousness in his eyes. It didn’t show on his face, but Xal could see the faint note of uncertainty, like he was afraid Xal would say no. Like he genuinely wanted Xal to say yes.
“First rule of friendship,” Xal rasped, voice underscored by heavy breaths. “You never, ever hit each other. You don’t use any kind of physical violence, you don’t shove, you don’t slap, you don’t strangle, you don’t tackle them to the ground—you don’t try to hurt them, and the only exception to that rule is if you need to do it to save their life.”
Castiel nodded. “That is an easy first rule.”
Xal snorted bitterly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
Frowning, Castiel took another step. “It is an easy first rule for me.” He tilted his head, looking a bit like a barn owl. “Is that why you didn’t punch Dean on March 6th?”
“Dean’s not my friend. Dean’s just in a position to make my life miserable. It’s not worth it to fight someone who has authority over you.” Xal hunched his shoulders, rubbing his thumb against Drysdusa’s face which prompted her to chew on it.
“And…” Castiel wet his lips, glancing to the side and thinking for a few moments before making eye contact again, “…I have authority over you.”
Xal tensed.
“I will obey the first rule if you obey the second.”
Xal tensed more, if that was possible.
“The second rule of friendship is that we do not deceive each other.” Castiel stared blankly, which was an odd expression to have given the words he was saying and how sincerely they sounded coming out of his mouth.
Swallowing, Xal offered a faint nod. “No lying. That’s a good rule. I—”
“That is not what I said.” Castiel leaned forward slightly, pushing into Xal’s space. “I said we do not deceive each other. That extends beyond lying.”
“Castiel, you—” Xal exhaled hard, taking a step back and averting his eyes. “You don’t understand how terrifying that is. You don’t—”
“I understand how terrified I am that history will repeat itself.” Castiel’s lips twitched faintly, eyes flickering to the side as he shifted on his feet, trying to maintain that blank expression and failing. “I trusted my brothers and sisters not to deceive me for millennia. And I was wrong. I have seen Sam and Dean deceive each other—the demon blood, the memories of Hell—and I see them conceal things from Bobby even now.”
Xal stopped, not knowing how to respond but painfully aware that Castiel wasn’t nearly as unaffected by their circumstances as Xal had thought.
“I am promising to refrain from physical violence, which is something you need and have realized no one else will give you.” Castiel opened his mouth, stopped, and then started again, embarrassment dusting color across his cheeks. “I am asking you to do the same for me.”
It took several moments of staring and thinking for Xal’s mouth to move again, but he wet his lips and offered a quiet, “Okay.”
Castiel’s lips twitched up in the corner, and he gave a serious nod.
Xal mimicked the expression and movement to return the sentiment.
“You also must let me pet Drysdusa whenever I want to.”
Laughing quietly, Xal shifted his hands to support her from beneath and held her out, keeping her close but putting her where Castiel could reach, which he did.
“Excellent.”
Xal watched fingers that had crushed the life out of many a monster gently dance between her ears, and for a moment, he thought maybe, if he was careful, those fingers would scratch his head, too.
“Very enjoyable, per the usual.”
Xal laughed. Soft, broken, choked out by the residual panic still coursing through his veins. But he did laugh.