The Winchester Gospels

Parker barely had time to blink when they arrived at New Harmony, Indiana. Castiel removed his hand and stood quietly watching the scene before them.

It was a quaint little neighborhood full of symmetrical houses with perfect lawns. Parker could hear the faint sound of a lone sprinkler system going off. She licked her chapped lips and scanned the area, “Which house—”

She didn’t need to go any further. She had a pretty good idea which house Dean Winchester was in. The only one with its sprinkler system turned on at four in the morning. The only one with a line of men standing outside the line of fire for the sprinklers, surrounding the blue house.

“Who are they?” Parker whispered. They needed to move. Dean’s seven minutes were slipping by.

“Demons.” Castiel answered. “They have been watching Lilith.”

“Who’s Lilith?” Parker questioned.

“The head Crossroad Demon. The one who holds Dean’s soul.” Castiel murmured, “That is why Dean Winchester is here. He and Sam are trying to destroy Lilith to save Dean. They are going to fail.”

Parker frowned, walking forward toward the house crawling with demons.

“Where are you going?” Castiel called after the prophet.

“To make sure they don’t fail.” Parker said determinedly.

Suddenly, Castiel was standing right in front of Parker, causing her to bump into him without enough warning time to stop herself. Castiel steadied her with his usual unreadable expression.

“What are you doing?” Parker demanded, trying to edge around the Angel to no avail. “Move, Castiel.”

She tried to shove him but he was too sturdy for it to have much of an effect.

“I cannot let you go in there.” He told her frankly.

“Why the hell not?” Parker scowled.

“It is not safe for you.”

“If you think ridding your sentences of contractions makes this a viable argument,” Parker huffed, “You are wrong. You made a promise. No take backs!”

Castiel stared at the house expectantly. As if on cue, a painful, heart wrenching scream came bellowing from the house. “It is happening.”

Parker dodged the Angel furiously and tried to run forward only for him to block her again. “Stop it!” She yelled, “Stop it! We have to save him!”

The plea for help echoed on for a few moments before it silenced altogether.

Dean Winchester was dead.

Parker fell on her hands and knees, no longer struggling with the Angel. She had failed Dean. She hadn’t been able to save him.

Parker looked on at the house. Black smoke burst through the roof and spiraled away. Soon after, all the people standing in front of the house threw their heads back and black smoke erupted from their bodies. Once it danced after the other smoke, the bodies fell to the ground in a limp pile.

Parker sat, devastated. She had foolishly thought she could make a difference. She thought there was some higher purpose in these visions, that God wanted her to save Dean. She had been so prideful, so full of hubris. She thought she was invincible, that saving Dean was like saving the world. Parker couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I’m sorry, Parker.” Castiel said honestly. “I told you this would happen. I tried to warn you.”

Parker shook her head, unable to speak. She had wanted so badly to save Dean, to make this right. What kind of cruel God would allow her to see such things and not let her right it.

Parker didn’t want to go to Heaven. She wanted to stay here and forget about Dean Winchester and Bela Talbot and Castiel. Castiel hadn’t helped her save anyone. The deal was off.

Castiel could see the desperate anger etched all over her face. The prophet wasn’t very good at hiding things. “We have to go, Parker.”

“No.” She growled defiantly. “Not until we save Dean.”

Castiel heaved a sigh of disapproval. “Dean Winchester is gone. It is over.”

“There has to be something we can do.” Parker flared her nostrils. It couldn’t be over. Dean couldn’t go to hell.

Castiel pursed his lips, staring intently at the prophet. He couldn’t understand why she was taking this so hard. Parker didn’t know Dean Winchester. So why was she acting so stubborn?

“We can’t just leave him down there!” Parker barked when Castiel didn’t do anything. “We have to bring him back. You’re an angel, you can do something! You can bring him back!”

She looked up at him with so much hope and desperation that Castiel hesitated to answer. He even gave her pleas some thought. Now he was questioning his motives. He knew neither Dean Winchester nor Parker Forest. He owed them nothing. But something in Parker’s face made him think.

“I cannot help you.” Castiel finally muttered, “I cannot simply raise Dean from Perdition.”

“There must be something else.” Parker argued, “Some fairy dust or magic or spell or some other person you know! Maybe some other Angel—Please, Castiel, there has to be some way to save him!”

Castiel tilted his head. His blue eyes squinted lightly, “I cannot simply raise Dean from Perdition—”

“You said that—” Parker tried to argue.

Castiel continued as if there was no interruption, “—But there is someone who can. Someone dangerous. Someone who shouldn’t be released from his cage.”

“Who?” Parker demanded greedily, “Who is it?”

“Death.” Castiel answered darkly. Parker frowned, unsure whether the Angel was joking or not. He hadn’t made a joke all night so she was guessing on the latter. Castiel didn’t seem capable of joking.

“Death?” She asked apprehensively.

“Death.” Castiel confirmed, “One of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Angel of Death.”

“Great,” Parker breathed, feeling fearful. Castiel was one thing. But, the actual Angel of Death? That seemed a little too terrifying to comprehend. “How do I get to him?”

“You do not.” Castiel furrowed his vessel’s brows, “He is chained in a box six hundred feet in hell.”

“Then how was bringing Death up remotely helpful?” Parker seethed. “If we can’t get him, what good is he?”

“You cannot get him.” Castiel went on. “You are just a prophet. There is a spell to unleash him. It is dangerous.”

“Would we die?” Parker asked worriedly.

“You would not.”

“And what about you?”

“Most likely.” Castiel nodded. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by this fact. Parker couldn’t fully understand the loyalty Angels had.

“What do we do?” Parker questioned slowly.

“There is a spell and a ritual. One is faster, one is temporary.” Castiel responded mechanically.

“Which one’s faster?”

“The ritual.”

“What does it entail?”

“An entire town’s death.”

Parker gaped at the Angel and his nonchalant-ness of murdering an entire town of innocent people. “That’s not particularly angelic of you…”

“Are you against the ritual?” He asked, unphased.

“Very much so.” Parker grimaced, “What’s the spell?”

“It is a binding spell. It is temporary. Once it is over, he’ll go back to his cage.” Castiel revealed, “He will not be particularly pleased with us and even less likely to help us.”

There was risk in both plans but Parker had to do something. The longer they waited, the longer Dean rotted in a miscarriage of justice. Who knew what kind of heinous torture he was being forced through.

“Do the spell.” She commanded the Angel. “And keep your fingers crossed and your rabbit foot on hand, Castiel.”

“I do not understand that reference.” Castiel blinked, “However, I shall commence the spell forthwith.”