Read Supernatural: Bobby Singer's Guide to Hunting Online
Authors: David Reed
Supernatural: Bobby Singer's Guide to Hunting (5 page)
UNTIL SEPTEMBER 2008,
I woulda told you that angels were a myth. Demons were real, monsters were real, ghosts were real, hell was real, but the only thing standing up for the side of good was mankind. Kind of a depressing worldview, but that’s what the evidence showed. Though in a way, it was almost comforting—there was nothing out there gonna save us but us, and that made us important. It gave us purpose, activated our survival instincts—it’s the reason there are hunters. If there were angels up there making sure things were fair and balanced, we could all sit poolside drinking booze with little umbrellas in it and enjoying the scenery.
There are angels, but I’m not in Cabo working on my tan, so how do you square those two facts?
Angels are dicks
.
Yeah, even He-Man there.
In the grand scheme of things, everybody looks out for themselves, and you’ll never learn anything truer than that. Everybody’s actions are steeped in their own interests, even angels’. They may have been created to serve God
and
man, but since God flew the coop . . . they’ve been following the letter of divine law, not the intent. They were created before us, but weren’t given free will. Bummer for them. Ever since, a certain heavenly contingent has been on the warpath, determined to wipe us off the planet so that they can come in and enjoy the paradise that God created for us. A couple of us talkin’ apes stood up for ourselves (with the help of an angel named Castiel who turned against his brothers) and we’ve (at least for now) stopped the great planetary enema of 2010 from moving forward. So, humans are
still
pretty much the only force in the universe standing up for humans, but that’s probably how it should be.
Why do I bring the winged bastards up? Because they’re the most powerful things out there, and the only ones that I know for a fact can mess with a man’s memory. An angel named Zachariah made Sam and Dean think that they were peons in a big architecture firm for a week. Castiel wiped away all of Lisa and Ben Braeden’s memories of Dean—that was at Dean’s request, once he realized that knowing him was just gonna get them hurt, or worse. So I know they have the hardware to blot out memories, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why they’d be targeting me. The Apocalypse was called off. That war’s over.
Unless—maybe I learned something that I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe, between Ashland and here, I saw something, read something, figured something out that turned the tables on the whole thing, and now they’re cleaning up the mess? No—because if angels are one thing, it’s
orderly
. My mind right now, it’s the opposite. When they messed with Sam and Dean’s memory, they did a bang-up job, made them really believe that they weren’t brothers, that they’d had entirely different lives than the ones they actually have. If an angel was behind this . . . I have to think they’d have done a better job, left my brain in better condition. Left fewer holes.
But it’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? That I saw what I wasn’t supposed to, and somebody’s making sure that I don’t remember it?
For the record, I’ve tried to contact the one angel I’m on speaking terms with, Castiel, and heard nothing back. He’s busy fighting a war in heaven, so . . . Guess my problem is small fries compared to that.
It’s been close to forty hours since I slept. I should shut my eyes for a bit, see if that doesn’t clear some of this up. I’ll come back to this once I can see straight.
. . . . .
Nope. Sleep’s not happening. It’s about three in the morning now, and I’m wired. I went back out to the junkyard, looked through the car again for clues. Found a few receipts in the glove compartment (a guy’s gotta write off his business expenses), all of them from Ashland, all from before I went back to the swamp. Either I didn’t stop for food on the way back to South Dakota, or I was messed up enough to not care about lowering my tax liability—and I’d have to be pretty messed up for that. Also, some of the receipts were for three meals, which means . . . Sam and Dean were there, maybe the whole time. Why is it I can picture parts of it so clearly but can’t remember who was with me? I mean, I was there to . . . wait. Why did I go to Ashland?
I just re-read what I wrote about the banshee, almost none of it rings a bell, now. More stuff’s leaking out. Balls.
I have to blast through this, quick and dirty. Get what I know out there before I don’t know it anymore.
Angels.
They’re not the “fluffy wings and harps” types you see on Christmas cards. Angels are divine warriors, soldiers of God—His own heavenly army. Think the Mossad, but with a worse sense of humor. Or God’s Secret Service, including the suits. Their power can’t be overstated. They do have wings, but they’re not visible to humans—while on earth, they use human vessels to move around, like demons. Most of the time, they look like trench coat–wearing mooks.
Their abilities:
•
Unimaginable physical strength.
They can take a licking and keep on ticking. Only the highest level demon stands a chance in a physical fight with an angel. No human dare even try. Bullets, devil’s traps, iron, salt . . . none of it will even ruffle their trench coats. I tried every mystical warding symbol I knew, none of them stopped Cass from walking in the door when Dean and I first met him.•
Smiting.
Angels can kill with a touch of their fingers—and some of them don’t even need the touching part. Works on humans, demons, monsters, whatever. If it’s alive in any sense of the word, you bet your ass an angel can kill it. Zachariah gave Sam stomach cancer with a snap of his fingers. Took away his lungs with another snap. You don’t fight angels. You find a way to have leverage over them, or you get killed by them. Even their appearance is deadly. When Pamela Barnes used a séance to spy on Castiel’s true form, it burned the eyes right out of her head. When Cass spoke to Dean with his true voice, he shattered glass and nearly popped Dean’s eardrums.•
Teleportation.
As I said, they’re not fluttering around on little angel wings. When angels want to go someplace, they just
go
, appearing instantly out of the ether. That can be both helpful and damn annoying, since they can appear when they’re called immediately, but they also can leave without so much as a tip of the hat. And just try fighting something that can appear behind you right as you’re swinging your blade.•
Telekinesis.
Same as with the high-level demons, angels can manipulate the stuff around them with their minds. Fling people into walls, send out blasts of psychic energy, pick up cars and break ’em in half . . . it’d be impressive if they were on our side. Since most of them aren’t, it’s just scary.•
Time travel.
One of the many ways angels dick around with human civilization: messing with our history. Angels have the power to go back in time and change things, though they claim that history is already written and that we all have a destiny and blah blah blah whatever. Same angel that told Dean Winchester he couldn’t go back to save his mother from being killed sent another angel back in time to un-sink the
Titanic
. Time is flexible. Certain things will always be the same (the sky will always be blue, steak will always be delicious) but some things are up for grabs. Little things, like who’s alive and who never existed. Who lives happily ever after and who ends up alone with a bottle of whiskey at a piece of crap Wang PC, typing out the sum total of his life’s experiences in the hope that somebody will read it and . . . never mind. Angels can time travel. That’s all you really need to know.•
Omniscience.
Don’t know how they do it, but angels have a way of keeping tabs on a lot of things at once. Like, say, every activity in an entire town, down to the smallest detail. There are limits, of course, and they can’t be everywhere at once, but it’s downright creepy how
aware
they are sometimes. Don’t think you can cross an angel and get away with it.•
Dream visitation.
Say you’ve found a way to hide yourself from an angel (I’ll get to that in a bit)—but the angel still wants to have words with you. Likely they’ll just pop into your dreams and scare the pants off you just as you’re getting cozy with Tori Spelling.•
Healing powers.
I have to say, this one I like. Angels have the power to raise the dead and heal any injury, though it requires a lot of celestial energy. That’s how Castiel brought Dean back from hell . . . and how Cass brought me back from the dead after Lucifer snapped my neck. Don’t expect them to be that benevolent for you. Most angels would sooner blast your corpse out of existence rather than help you out.•
Liquor tolerance.
Cass can hold his liquor. ’Nuff said.•
Memory alteration.
Like I said. Far as lore I’ve seen goes, angels are the only critters that can muck around with a man’s memory. ’Course, I’ve got hundreds of lore books I’ve never even opened, especially since I inherited the Campbell family hunting library a few months back. One thing did strike me, however—if an angel was really this gung-ho about line-item vetoing my memories, you’d think they woulda blacked out my memories of angels screwing with people’s memories, too. You know, so I wouldn’t even suspect ’em. Huh.
One important thing to remember about angels—their power isn’t baked in, it’s . . . how do I explain this? An angel in a vacuum is no more powerful than a human. Their, uh,
potency
. . . comes when they’re backed up by the full power of heaven. See, angels act as . . . sorta like
channels
for heavenly power. An angel is like a fire hose. If the spigot’s turned off and no water’s flowing, they can’t get anything done. But once the valve’s opened and water’s flowing . . . ya understand? And heaven, in this analogy, is the great big water tower in the sky, full of energy. That power comes from souls—human souls, which they harness like little nuclear reactors to light up heaven and wage their eternal war with hell. Wait. I thought the metaphor was about water, not electricity. Whatever. The more souls are in heaven, the more powerful they are. That’s what makes their apocalyptic plans so damn shortsighted—how are they supposed to replenish their power source if they kill off all of us low dwellers? Idjits.
On that topic . . . for two thousand years they left us to our own devices. Then the rumblings of the Apocalypse started and they came back to earth to help push things along. They
wanted
the Apocalypse, so they could have a final battle with Lucifer and take earth for themselves. One of ’em in particular was pushing for the prize fight—Michael.
Michael’s an archangel, the top tier, the most powerful. There were four archangels—Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel. Now, Michael and Lucifer are locked up together in a cage in hell, Gabriel’s dead, and Raphael . . . he’s (I guess it’s she, now—switched vessels)
she’s
locked in a civil war for control of heaven. Heavy stuff.
Archangels are way more powerful than rank-and-file angels, and are assigned special duties, like protecting prophets of the Lord from harm. Far as I can tell, the powers of an archangel are on par with that of God—near limitless. That’s not to say that they’re invincible. Gabriel was killed by Lucifer, so that don’t really count, but they
are
mortal beings. Just, you know, mortals that have been alive for eons and who channel the energy of God Himself.
There are also other tiers of angels, like the cherubs—that’s what Cupid is. They’re assigned to fulfill divine will by arranging love connections on earth. Keep that in mind the next time you see a looker across the bar—you might be getting played by a cherub. John and Mary Winchester were, according to Cupid, an arranged couple. All part of the heavenly plan, fulfilling their destiny, yada yada yada. Two sides of the same coin—the hunter family and the Michael Sword, combining to form two brothers who could fulfill their bullcrap prophecy. Light and dark, yin and yang, Dean and Sam. If I’ve learned one thing from my dealings with angels, it’s that there’s no such thing as destiny. Just choices that you can have thrust on you, or make for yourself.
Know this—if you do choose to defy an angel, get ready for the fight of your life. Keep these things in mind, they might just save you from getting your head shoved up your ass:
•
Permission.
This is their Achilles’ heel. Unlike demons, angels need permission to take control of a host. It seems like a small thing, but it makes all the difference in the world. They can’t jump from meatsuit to meatsuit willy-nilly, and their list of potential vessels isn’t limitless. There’s a bloodline of angel vessels, descended from who knows where, and if those vessels say no, the angels are stuck floating around like a fart in the wind. Certain angels require more powerful vessels, like the archangels. Not just any human is built tough enough to contain Lucifer or Michael, and that’s where Sam and Dean fit into the plan. They were supposed to be the hosts for Lucifer (Sam) and Michael (Dean) for their final battle, the one that’d take out half the earth. But they didn’t count on Dean and Sam showing some backbone and saying
no
. That may be their fatal flaw—angels rely on humans to go along with their plans, but humans have that which angels lack . . . free will.•
Angelic blades.
A weapon that all angels carry, an angelic blade is shorter than a sword, but longer than a dagger. They’re effective against almost anything, including angels themselves. It’ll take a direct blow to be fatal, but it can be done. Dean killed Zachariah with one. The problem is that they’re not easy to come by. Black market occult arms dealers are out there, but none of them stock angel blades. Unless you happen upon a dead angel, you’re not likely to ever encounter one of their blades, except if you find yourself at the pointy end of one.•
Enochian.
Normal black magic doesn’t affect angels, so you have to dig a little deeper. Turns out you just have to be speaking the right language. Enochian is the native spoken and written language of angels, and has its own symbology and phonetics that can be used in a whole mess of spells, like:
•
Banishment sigil.
Learned this one from Castiel. It’s a little tricky, since it has to be written in
blood
, but that’s magic for you. Once you’ve scratched out the basic form of the symbol, you place your bloody hand right in the center to complete the banishment ritual. Any angel (this works on all of them, from cherubs to archangels) in the area will be blasted to the next time zone. (Or dimensional realm, I don’t know. They’re not in the room any more, and that’s good enough for me.) Interesting to note—this works with both human and angelic blood. Probably works with demon blood, too. Might be worth experimenting, seeing which kind is most effective.•
Warding inscription.
Couldn’t replicate this one myself, for obvious reasons, but Castiel gave Sam and Dean an Enochian warding inscription—he carved it right into their ribs. Unless you’ve got a high pain tolerance and a really small chisel, I’d move on to the next one.•
Torment chant.
A line of Enochian that’ll wrack an angel’s insides with pain. Useful for a hot second, but it won’t last. And believe me, you use this on one, they’re gonna be pissed, and you’ll probably be worse off than if you just tried to run. If you did that, maybe they’d at least take pity on how pathetic you are. Still, the chant is short and it could help in a pinch. The Enochian:Pizin Noco Iad.
A word to the wise, though—Enochian ain’t pronounced like Latin. Get yourself a beginner’s guide from an occult shop. Each letter is pronounced as a single syllable, so it takes longer to say than you’d think.
•
Angel exorcism.
Guess I lied, this one’s actually Latin. Close enough. This invocation will pull the angel from their vessel (temporarily) and send them back to heaven. Again, the spell isn’t even trying to kill ’em, so they’ll just come back more pissed than ever. But if you’re about to get your ass smote (smited? smitten?) then it’s better than nothing. The Latin:Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco
. . .omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco
. . .omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco
. . .Domine in caelo.
•
Summoning.
I’ve only got half the puzzle pieces on this one. Angels can be summoned by prayer (“Dear Cass, who art in heaven, could ya shag ass down here for a minute and help a fella out? No? That’s what I thought.”), but that very rarely works. Apparently they got more important things to do in heaven, besides listening to humans gripe about our problems. If you want an audience with an angel, you gotta have something they want, otherwise prepare to wait a long time on bended knee. There
is
another way, but it’s complicated. An Enochian sigil is required, along with a bowl of herbs, which you then gotta light on fire. I don’t know the shape of the sigil, I don’t know the herbs. What I do know is the Enochian phrase that you’ve gotta say right as you’re lighting the whole thing up:Nirdo Noco Abramg Nazpsad.
And just like that, you’ve got an inbound angel. I assume you gotta name the angel you want a visit from someplace in the Enochian sigil, otherwise you’ll get the whole heavenly host on your ass, which doesn’t sound like a party I want to go to. Those guys could make an orgy somber.
•
Location ritual.
Say you tried the summoning ritual and it didn’t work. Your next best bet: tracking down the angel and going to them. Here’s how. Take a clay bowl, inscribed with this sigil:
