Chapter Text
The locked section of the library is basically the book version of artifact storage, holding the especially unruly books. Like, for example, books formerly owned by Jurgen Leitner. Dean scans the shelves as Tim searches for Flavo Ostium E Spiralibus , while Jon talks with Cas back in the office.
“Was all that stuff that Dean said…was that true?” Jon hesitantly looks at Cas. He had known that Dean and Sam were in a more involved version of what the Institute deals with, hunting down the things they collect statements about, but he had no idea the grand scale of things that they could be facing.
“Yes, it is. We have faced a great number of dangers over the years. Sam and Dean have to deal with blow after blow, trauma after trauma for nearly their entire lives. But they still keep fighting. And I am proud to do so with them.”
“Well, I am grateful to have Dean’s and your help. And I truly hope that this book will help us get Sam and the others back. I just hope the price isn’t too high to pay…”
Cas places a reassuring hand on Jon’s shoulder, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” adding quietly to himself I think that’s how the saying goes .
Martin returns to the office with tea in hand, slightly startled to see Jon and Cas standing right by the door. He scans the room for the others, only finding Sasha still sitting at her desk, deeply invested in whatever she is reading. “Where are Dean and Tim?” he asks, looking back to Jon and Cas.
Jon clears his throat, “They, uh, went to get a book that may help get Sam and the others back from the Distortion.”
As if on cue, the pair come through the door, laughing at some joke one of them made. Cas notices that Dean seems to be in a better mood compared to when he left to get the book, which is a relief.
Dean holds up the book triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. “Cas, man, it’s time to translate.”
***
Cas sits at his desk for hours on end, the other archival staff going about their normal duties for the day. And Dean…well, Dean tries not to hover over Cas and keep himself occupied, but fails spectacularly. Something in his gut tells him that this is their shot, so he can’t sit down to read or focus on anything else, no matter how hard he tries.
After hour 6, Cas finally sighs and turns to Dean, who is pacing behind him, “You do realize that the translation will not go faster if you are anxiously watching me.” It was more of a statement than a question, the angel knowing Dean well enough to be sure that Dean gets antsy the closer they get to a possible answer to their problems.
“He’s right, you know?” Tim stands from his desk, making his way over to Dean. “Acting like a helicopter parent over your boyfriend won’t make things go faster.”
An obvious look of annoyance passes over Dean’s face, but deep down, he does know they’re right. “You’re right, okay? But what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Tim looks down at his watch and smirks, “Well, it’s 5 o’clock somewhere! How about some drinks?”
“Now that I can get on board with. I’ve yet to go to an English pub, let’s see what the Brits have to offer.” Dean grabs his jacket from his desk chair, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything. “Sasha, Martin, you want to join us while Cas keeps pluggin’ away?”
“Maybe another night boys, my boyfriend and I are going to a museum.” Sasha replies. Dean can’t help but think that’s kinda lame, but doesn’t push.
Martin, however, does seem to be considering the offer, “I probably won’t stay super late, but I would like to join you, if that’s alright?”
“Martin, buddy, we offered. Yeah, it’s alright.” Tim reassures him.
Dean walks back over to Cas’s desk and leans down so his face is right next to the angel’s, “You want to take a break and come out with us? Then we can come back and keep at it.”
Cas rolls his eyes at the hunter, “Dean, I don’t drink and you know this. Plus, I’m getting close on the translation, I’ve found what appears to be a summoning spell of some sort,” He turns his head to face Dean and pecks his lips. “So you three go have fun, okay? I’ll be fine here. I’ll text you any updates.”
***
“I gotta say, I don’t recommend getting high off of fire extinguishers.” Tim shares his infinite wisdom after two shots and a Corpse Reviver No. Blue. Martin and Tim decided to take Dean to The French House in Soho for his first foray into London pubs.
“God, you’re still drinking those after all these years?” Dean laughs, remembering the drink from the night they met.
“Excuse you, No. Blue is amazing . Or have you forgotten?” Tim retorts, motioning to Dean’s glass of whiskey.
Martin is simply watching the exchange, sipping on a mixed tea drink (which Dean was astonished to learn is apparently a thing). He’s rarely gone out since Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute, so he’s allowing himself to enjoy the time out, as best as he can.
Dean scoffs, “I have not forgotten, I just wanna avoid a repeat of my last foray if I can help it. I’d prefer not to drunkenly stumble upon a nest of vamps, ya know?”
Tim responds with a smirk, “Well, I’d just have to rescue you again, now, wouldn’t I?”
Dean laughs and shakes his head, “Don’t you forget, hot stuff, I’ve got an angel on my shoulder now. Your charms ain’t gonna work now.”
“Ah, old habits, handsome. I am happy for you, though. You’ve really got a good thing with him.” Tim turns with a knowing smirk to Martin, who has remained quiet the entire exchange. “Soooo, Martin. What about you, anyone you’ve got an eye on?”
Dean leans into the table with a playful smile, eager to hear his answer. Martin, on the other hand, shifts awkwardly in his seat and avoids meeting either of their gazes. “N-no, no one. No one at all.”
Tim rolls his head from Martin to Dean then back, “Oh really? Not even a certain archivist?”
Martin practically jumps out of his seat, knocking over his (thankfully empty) cup as Dean and Tim burst into laughter. “No! No, definitely not! I don’t know what even gave you the impression…”
Dean reaches over the table, placing a reassuring hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Martin, my man, one) you are a terrible liar, and two) take it from me, chances are pretty good he feels the same. So don’t wait too long.” Martin settles back into his chair, all of the flight leaving his system.
“Thanks, Dean. I appreciate it.” Martin flashes a shy smile at the hunter; even if he doesn’t feel confident now about telling Jon about his feelings, he feels better about telling him in the semi-near future. Definitely not now though.
***
The clock in the bar shows that it is now actually 5pm, so the trio has been at the bar for a couple of hours. Dean checks his phone and sees a text from Cas, sent two minutes ago:
Hello, love. I’ve finished translating the summoning spell. On the way back to the Institute, can you pick up a prism and a spiral ginger plant?
Dean wasn’t called pet names by others very often, so whenever Cas did, he just melted and felt like a kid on christmas.
Tim slowly leans over to Martin with a giddy grin, “I think our Dean-o has heard from his angel.” Dean looks up from his phone, sends a glare to Tim, but there’s no malice behind it. He knows how goofy he looks, he is just too damn in love to care. “So what’s the word?”
“Cas finished translating what we needed in order to get where Sam is. We need to make two stops on the way back though, for ingredients.”
Martin looks over at Dean in confusion, “What do you mean ‘ingredients’? A-are we cooking something?”
Dean chuckles, “No, no man, we’re not cooking anything. It’s for a spell, a summoning spell. Don’t know the details, Cas will catch us up once we’re back.” He pulls out his wallet and puts £50 on the table to cover their food, drinks, and a tip for the bartender. “Let’s go, lads!” he says in his best worst London accent with a cocky grin.
***
Martin, Tim, and Dean make their needed detours and make it back to the institute shortly before 7:30 pm. As they walk down the hallway back to the office, they can hear Jon and Cas laughing. They open the door to see Jon leaning back in a chair with his feet kicked up while Cas is sitting on top of one of the desks with his legs criss-crossed, both smiling.
Dean chuckles, “What’ve you two been up to?”
“Jon and I were discussing the history of gender and sexuality norms in various cultures over the centuries. I’ve always found it absurd to assign clothes to one of two gender categories, considering they are simply different configurations of fabric.”
“I had asked Castiel what his favorite clothing item was from the many centuries and he replied-” Jon cuts himself off with a playful smirk and directs a hand to Cas.
“I said any form of flowing skirt, because, as the Internet describes, ‘skirt go spinny’. I’m unsure who came up with the phrase, but I will say that I agree with the sentiment wholeheartedly.”
Dean makes a mental note for later to get the Angel a skirt, because he’ll be damned if the image of him spinning in a field in flowy dress ain’t doing something for him. Before he gets too carried away, he snaps his attention back to the office. “Well that sounds like an absolutely riveting conversation, my friends, but I do believe we’ve got some work to do.”
Jon kicks his legs off the desk and brings them back to the ground to stand while Cas climbs off the desktop and grabs the book with his notes bookmarked into a few sections. It’s not a very large book, probably no more than 40 pages, which is why the Angel was able to find and translate what they needed in one day’s work. The cover seems to somehow shift and shimmer in Cas’s hand, as if it’s an illusion or on another plane leaking through, but the angel’s grip is seemingly unaffected by it.
“The spell should be relatively simple, we should have no problem getting into this Michael’s domain.” Cas begins to explain. “The main issue will be finding the right door to get Sam, Helen, and the other women and getting back here. I’m going to write a sigil on the door we open to hopefully force it to stay open, but we need to be in and out as quickly as possible.”
“So who all is going in?” Tim asks, a hint of apprehension in his voice. As much as he doesn’t want to go into wherever this Michael is, he knows that he’s probably best suited for the tasks out of the other archival assistants. Plus, he knows what it’s like to lose a brother, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to see Dean go through the same loss.
“Tim, you don’t-” Dean starts; Tim may have once saved his ass, but that is far from being a full-time hunter and he’ll be damned if he loses another person that he cares about.
Tim is having none of this, though, rolling his eyes at the hunter, “I know I don’t have to, Winchester. But hell if I’m going to sit here and twiddle my bloody thumbs while we wait for you to get back. You don’t always have to be the savior, definitely not on your own.”
Before Dean can protest, Cas speaks up, “He’s right, Dean. With the amount of ground we need to cover, we need more than just you and me charging in.” He catches the hunter’s gaze, trying to assess what he’s thinking and hiding behind his stoic look.
Dean lets out a heavy sigh, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides, “Fine. So when are we heading in?”
Martin speaks up this time, hesitantly looking around the room to the others, “Shouldn’t we all go home and get some rest? We have everything we need, right? So why not get some rest so you can go in with as clear of a mind as possible in the morning. Then we can make sure we have everything we need, too, and Sasha will be here.”
Cas and Jon both nod in agreement, while Dean throws his arms up in exasperation. He is slowly going insane imagining all the things, all of the torture his brother could be going through, and now he has to wait another whole night before even trying to get him back. He knows he needs to get rest, but who knows if he’ll actually be able to sleep.
***
Turns out Dean was able to sleep that night, thanks to Cas. Once they got back to Tim’s flat and got ready for bed, the hunter and the angel cuddled on the couch, and Cas used his Grace to put Dean into a restful, dreamless sleep. In the morning, Dean wakes up for the third day in a row to the smell of a homemade breakfast. He is greeted by the sight of his angel’s eyes staring into his own and the weight of Cas wedged into the couch next to him, something he’ll never get tired of.
“Mornin’, sunshine.” Dean greets in his usual morning gruff. “What time is it?”
“7:33am. Tim is making breakfast for you both. Once you eat and get dressed, we’ll head to the Institute, finalize the plan for the spell, then-”
Dean cuts him off, adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins, “Then get my goddamn brother back.”
***
Martin and Sasha are already at the office once Dean, Cas, and Tim get there. There’s an obvious anxiety in the air that all of them are doing their best to ignore, but it’s there nonetheless. Cas heads to his desk and begins prepping the few ingredients they need for the spell while Dean preps backpacks for him and Tim.
It was decided that Jon, Martin, and Sasha would stay behind to guard the door and take care of anyone they were able to send back. Martin, Tim, and Sasha clear the desks against one of the walls to make a space for the door.
Jon enters the office shortly after the others, a cup of warm coffee in hand. “Morning, everyone.” Sasha, Tim, and Martin both offer their hellos, while the other two absentmindedly wave. “So…how are we looking? Are we ready to start soon?” The nervousness dripping off the archivist is palpable; Dean thinks to himself how, for someone whose job it is to learn about the supernatural and weird, he sure is jumpy.
Cas turns and looks up from his desk, the prism placed in a small bowl, perfectly in the center of the petals of the spiral ginger plant. “Yes, I’m almost done with the ingredients for the spell. I just need one last thing, from you, Jon, and from Dean.”
Turns out the spell needs blood from someone touched by the Distortion, and since Michael had sliced a cut into Jon’s shoulder after he took Helen, it’s just what they need. As for Dean, Cas is hoping that the familial bond between the brothers’ blood will open the door close to where Sam is.
Dean looks across the room and watches as Jon carefully walks over to the bowl and rolls up his sleeve, then grabs a knife from the desk. Dean notices his apprehension, and feels a bit of pity for the man; after so many years of hunting, giving blood for a spell is just another Thursday. Cas must notice as well, as he places a hand on Jon’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring, soft smile. The archivist relaxes a bit, takes a deep breath, and presses the knife into his forearm, allowing the blood to coat the prism and the petals. Once there’s enough, Cas places a hand over the cut and heals it with his grace.
“I-I’m going to sit down now.” Jon walks awkwardly to an empty chair and slouches into it.
Dean double checks the bags he’s packed for Tim and himself, slings his over his shoulder, and repeats the process, adding his blood to the bowl. Cas lifts the bowl and places it carefully in front of the wall that had been cleared, then begins to recite the spell as Dean and Tim join him.
Ostium est.
Luteum ostium quod non est.
Ostium nusquam.
Atria velim explorare.
I oportet invenire ostium.
Non est hic ostium flavo.
Insano laetabitur timore.
Ego spiras et fractals restituo.
Habeo ostium invenerunt.
Ego te huc.
Dean lights a match and throws it into the bowl, which explodes into a yellow cloud of smoke. The wall begins to warp and shift, a slight ringing echoing through the room. Suddenly, a plain yellow door appears, as if it had always been there, and the ringing grows slightly louder. Cas takes out his angel blade and cuts his arm, taking the blood to draw an Enochian sigil on the door that will hopefully keep it open and allow them to return. Hopefully.
Once he’s finished, Cas exchanges a glance with Dean, who is fully stoic and staring at the door, and with Tim, who is doing well to mask his nervousness and gives the angel a thumbs up. With that, Cas reaches for the handle and slowly opens the door. Jon, Martin, and Sasha all watch silently as Cas, Dean, and Tim walk through the door, which creaks shut behind them. And now, they wait.