Supernatural 1. Chapter 1: I Descend into Hell

**A/N: So I watched SPN 9x10 last night and this has been in my head since I woke up. Obvious spoilers so beware. Warnings: torture, memories of hell, Dean feeling passively suicidal. No sex. (Yet).  
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He tripped as he rounded the corner of the building and found himself collapsed in the alleyway next to a dumpster. Dean laughed without humour thinking that this was where he belonged. He had been following leads on Gadreel for the last week and gotten absolutely nowhere.

In a torrent of bitter self-hatred, he'd found the closest seedy bar and proceeded to consume as much alcohol as he could until he was no longer standing.

Well... that mission had been a success at least, he thought wryly. His legs were sprawled out in front of him. He could distantly hear the noises coming from the street and the low repetitive thrum of the music from inside the building. His eyes were burning and he felt like he was in a constant state of not being able to breathe.

Through his alcohol infused brain he saw flashes upon flashes of Sam, Cas, his dad, his mom, Jo, Ellen, Bobby... endless people he'd let down.

Sam deserved so much better than him. Sam deserved a real family. The thought sparked something inside of him. A last will for a good deed.

_Cas...?_ He prayed quietly inside his head.

He didn't really know if Cas could hear him, but he hoped. It was basically his note, anyway. He didn't expect to live much longer. It wasn't like he planned on offing himself, he wasn't that dramatic... he just knew it was coming. He knew the end for him was within reach and he didn't care to fight against it anymore.

_Cas... I, uhh, won't be coming back. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry and .. shit. Just uhm.. please look after Sam. Be his family. Be the family that he needs. Support each other. I know he hates me. I know you probably hate me too and I tried to fix it. I've looked for Gadreel but it's like he disappeared and I'm just no good to anyone. I'm useless as a brother, a hunter, everything... a... friend. To you. Ya know? _

Dean laughed a bit before he could continue and realized he had fallen over in his drunken state and was laying on the asphalt like the sorry piece of shit he was.

_I know... Cas. I know how much of an ass I've been to you. I don't know why you put up with it. I'm broken. I've always been broken and corrupt. And... tired. Yeah... just tired._

_So friggin' tired.. _He repeated as his eyes drooped shut. The prayer fell silent in his head as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

He was beyond thought and awareness as a bright light illuminated the entire alleyway.

In his dream he was being dragged back to Hell. He wasn't kicking and screaming. He just accepted it. Shit -maybe this was really happening? He had no idea, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

After the first cuts of a razor were slicing under his skin, a voice permeated the darkness and it wasn't his wailing in agony, it was pure and beautiful. It was the most spectacular sound he had ever heard and yet it was indistinct. It was neither male nor female, neither exact nor vague... it was just the voice of something he knew. Something about it set off sparks inside of him.

He fought against the demon slicing into his skin but the binds were tight and before long he was fervently struggling and grunting trying to escape the torments that he no longer accepted passively.

Dean cried out in desperation and swore but the demon just laughed and continued slicing. The ardency of the pain made his teeth chatter.

"This is what you deserve!" The demon growled at him. "You are death to everyone around you. They all suffer because of you." The demon twisted his wrist sharply and he heard the bones snapping under his skin. He cried out and then gritted his teeth against the pain. His body shook and tears rolled down his face.

Somewhere in the back of his pain and disorientation, the voice -the perfect voice -was still in his head. It was talking to him, and there was a question. A repeated question... over and over again! _Fuck_... what was it saying?

Dean couldn't focus. The pain was consuming him and between his own screams and the demons laughter, the pleasant voice was nothing more than a whisper of light against his ear.

_"Dean."_

The way his name was spoken stilled time for a second. It wasn't the demon. It was that voice... that indistinct yet familiar voice. But it wasn't a voice... God, he was so confused!

The demon was total blackness beside him. Charred black that seared Dean's skin anytime he touched him. The demon had a gaunt face and sharp shark-life teeth. It leered down at him and smirked - the image so grotesque and terrifying that Dean could hardly breathe. Dean had thought Alistair's true form had been horrifying, but this... this was something else.

When the demon was within millimeters of his face, it snaked out a long gray tongue and licked the side of his face from jaw to temple. It instantly made bile rise up in his throat. He choked on his own vomit and the demon just laughed darkly from beside him, the gross breathe blew across his face and he screamed and yelled because it was all he could do.

People thought that Hell was hot and humid... and it could be, but sometimes the temperature would drop so low that his bones would shake inside his body. His muscles would seize and spasm making each infliction of a knife, or some other torture device feel sharper, the agony stretching out to other parts of himself as his muscles trembled violently and his teeth hurt from the strain of grating them against each other.

This was no longer a dream. Couldn't be.

Time had stretched too long for it to have been a dream. Throughout the endless excruciating and degrading torture, a trickle of warmth and radiance would ebb against his being. It was the voice... the wordless sound of something flexing its way at him. It would push and he tried to focus on it 'cause it was nice. It felt like home amidst the daily blood and ripping of flayed skin.

Deep down Dean knew. In the depths of his soul, he knew who it was from the way his name would be spoken every once and a while. It was only when he heard his name was he able to concentrate on the question that had been on steady repeat since he'd felt his friends presence here in Hell.

Oh no! It suddenly dawned on him. What was Cas doing in hell? Dean shouted and felt tears anew streak down across his singed skin because he had never wanted Cas to save him. He had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let anyone else get hurt because of him.

He thrashed and swore and spit and did everything from his limited helpless position to fight because he would never let anyone hurt Cas. His movements became stock-still as the demon approached him staring down at his naked body with a bemused horrific grin.

The demon ran a hand up his body in a disturbingly intimate way and Dean choked and barked out a curse at the soulless pit of hatred that was touching him.

"You think he's here for you?" The demon laughed. "No one is coming. It's all in your head."

A sharp slash across his stomach sent blood bubbling up out of his throat and he coughed and choked trying to bring air into his lungs. Each motion made the pain in his stomach flare and burn like lightening inside his abdomen. The demon laughed at his pathetic attempts to breathe.

"You don't deserve salvation!" The creature shouted at him and proceeded to slice a machete down to his fingers, slicing off two. The searing, blistering pain tore a scream from his blood filled throat and he knew from experience that no amount of pain would cause him to pass out... cause Hell just wasn't that generous.

With an ear-splitting roar to rival the sounds of an atomic bomb explosion a light erupted through the dark space, the sound of its entrance shattered everything... it was as if every object within a forty foot radius just exploded into non-existence.

The demon vanished and the light made it's way to Dean's bloody, carved-up naked body still strapped down on the table. It pushed at his skin and felt warm but didn't burn him. It was insistent and some part of Dean felt mildly annoyed but couldn't figure out why.

Hell was evil, and blackness, and pain, and humiliation, but it was Hell... and as such, it was predictable. This was ... _unexpected_. He tried to remember something about the light but failed as his brain refused to work properly.

Still, the lightness groped at him but thankfully not in a lewd way. It was almost weirdly sweet. As he tried to focus Dean realized he could hear the voice again. The pleasant one that would tickle at the back of his mind.

Suddenly the voice was screaming at him! _Let me in! Let me in! LET ME IN!_

Dean tried to struggle because he was terrified. In his deluded state, he thought a demon was trying to possess him and all he could think of was the demon using him to hurt Sam or Cas.

And so he fought... helplessly, but he still fought.

_LET ME IN!LET ME IN!LET ME IN!_

Dean screamed and let out a string of profanities that were so vulgar it was spectacular.

Throughout the force of the battle and the actionless fighting between him and the presence something happened... it was just a flash, a second where everything stopped and he heard his name again. Just once.

_"Dean."_

It brought him back to himself and he felt words being spoken at him. It was strange, it wasn't actual words... more like thoughts pushed at him.

_"Please... Say yes." _The nature of the thought was somber with an edge of panic. There was no malice to it, at least none that Dean could feel.

Dean had made so many unspeakable mistakes and therefore making _any_ decision, in Hell especially, he'd learned first-hand was never a good idea so he remained silent even though his most basic instincts were telling him to say yes.

The demon didn't return. The light stayed with him. It was soft but would occasionally flutter insistently; seemingly impatient with Dean's apathy.

_"Let go... say yes." _The thought was pushed at him again and again, and he was so tempted. He wanted to let go. He wanted to be free of feeling, both good and bad. He just wanted to be done with it all.

There was a pressure against his cheek. It felt like a hand, but there was nothing there. Just light. Pure, bright light.

He cried in defeat and knew that he was probably one-step closer to becoming a demon. Something likely worse than the charred black monster that had been torturing him.

He shook and shook, his body wracking against the restraints uncontrollably, and the word escaped his mouth as silent as a whisper but sounding deafening to his own ears.

"Yes..." He said for the second time in Hell, and his face grew hot and wet as he admitted defeat.

The next second everything warped. The light coalesced and flew at him, pushing into his mouth and down into his soul. It wasn't actually unpleasant, in fact, the more the light flowed into him the more his pain diminished, the more his brain reorganized itself into reality. He felt a sense of calm that he hadn't felt ever in his life.

It was so pure and peaceful that he dropped out of awareness from sheer elation at being free.

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**A/N: Well first chapter done. This was really supposed to just be a one-shot... but it seems I can't stop myself sometimes. Chapter two will be up later tonight maybe or tomorrow. Reviews and criticism welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2: Reflections

**A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter but the third one will be up in the next couple days when I get back from visiting family. **

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_Meanwhile at the bunker…_

Castiel was seated on his new bed. His new bed in the room that Sam, …and Dean, had obviously set aside for him. The thought made him so genuinely happy that he still smiled as he looked around the space.

His happiness, of course, was diminished due to Dean's absence but he tried to have faith that everything would work itself out. He knew Dean had faults but it was the nature of those faults that made it difficult to help him. It was saddening how little he thought of himself and made Cas' blood boil thinking of how childish Sam had been acting since they'd gotten back.

Sam of all people knew the hard life that Dean had suffered through. Sam hadn't had it easy either but there was an innocence to Sam that didn't exist in Dean. Sam was just more… resilient.

Even though the younger Winchester had been forced into the affects from demon influence, he maintained faith and utter piety. Castiel had never understood how the other angels had always deplored Sam Winchester. The boy had overcome Lucifer and that was a magnificent, almost unbelievable feat, and it candidly reflected his strength of character.

Dean on the other hand…

Well, Dean certainly was righteous. But he was dark in ways that Sam wasn't. It was a strange thought for Castiel because most people he had known at some point believed Sam was the boy whose soul was tainted with darkness and for the most part that was true. Except that Dean _created_ his own darkness. It was never thrust upon him by some yellow-eyed demon in the dark when he was just an infant; he allowed his mistakes, and his short-comings to blacken him on the inside. This was far more damaging.

Castiel remembered the sight of Dean's soul when he'd first come across it in Hell. It had been so bright at the core… so pure and perfect. It had called to him in the darkness with such clarity and purpose that there had been no mistaking who the righteous man was. But as time passed, that soul had become chipped and burned at the edges.

Castiel sighed heavily and let his body rest against the headboard of the creaky bed. As he pushed aside his musings on the Winchesters, he decided it was time to have a talk with Sam.

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Sam was slouched over a book in the library feeling hallow and sore. His large body hadn't fully recovered yet, despite the last week of healing Cas had unleashed on him. Sam knew the emptiness he felt had absolutely nothing to do with his physical state of crap.

His relationship with his brother was so far beyond broken he didn't even know how to come to terms with the wreckage that was left behind.

They were just so… _fucked up_!

There was no doubt that they loved each other –that was never the problem. But it was an unhealthy distorted kind of love where they just didn't know how to each be their own person, and support each other, and _trust_ each other in any normal, healthy kind of way. He didn't entirely blame Dean, Sam had blame in this for sure, but things needed to change. That was why he had let Dean walk away. It killed him that Dean didn't see it; that Dean _actually_ thought he was some weird cosmic magnet for death because c'mon man, seriously?

_Whatever…_

As much as he missed his brother, they just couldn't bounce back from this. A part of Sam truly wished Dean had let him die, and the resentment he felt towards Dean for that wouldn't go away overnight. It bothered him, of course, to see Dean so depressed and self-loathing but Sam knew that they needed to stay away from each other for a while.

He realized with a jolt of clarity that Gabriel had been right all along. He and Dean needed to learn to live without each other. Well… lesson learned.

It was times like this when Sam felt the urge to punch John Winchester… if he could. Yes, he completely understood why their father had raised them the way he had and Sam had already come to terms with the fact that John had only been trying to watch out for them – especially knowing the life they would have.

But… _God_! Their dad had forced them into a brotherly relationship that just wasn't sustainable. It was like Sam and Dean were atoms that needed the other's existence to exist themselves, and yet when the atoms were too close they would collide into anti-matter and explode the whole friggin' universe. The analogy in his head sounded ridiculous at first, but had the two of them not _caused_ -and then _derailed_ a worldly apocalypse?! Sounded pretty damn accurate to him!

Sam sighed in contempt at the situation and shoved the book towards the middle of the table in an angry motion. He couldn't even recall what he'd been reading. He hadn't been able to focus all week. His mind kept replaying everything from the other night. Every time he pictured Dean saying he was poison, it just made him angrier. Dean was so… so goddamned thick-headed sometimes, and stubborn, and inconsiderate, and just _stupid!_ Sam ground his teeth together in frustration.

A sudden change in the atmosphere and a prickle at the back of his neck alerted him that Cas had finally come down from his room. He turned and unleashed his perpetual sullen glare on the fallen angel. He didn't mean anything by it; it was just the only expression he was capable of.

"Sam." Cas said while narrowing his eyes to observe him more closely.

"Hey…" He replied tersely. The air between them had been charged since Dean had left. Neither wanting to discuss the elephant in the room that was Dean's absence.

"How are you?" Cas walked towards him and sat in the chair at the head of the table.

Sam snorted and shrugged. There were no appropriate words to answer that question and Cas knew it.

Cas reached across the table and placed a hand on his forearm in a gesture of comfort and comradeship in this shitty situation. They shared a helpless look but neither said a word.

The angel stood and placed two fingers to Sam's forehead. The light and purity washed through him and a measure of peace and happiness weaved its way in. It was the same sensation every time Cas did this, and Sam appreciated it. It was a brief moment in the day where he didn't feel the desire to scream in frustration or fume in anger. He wondered if Cas always felt like this; this sort of… peace and purity. If he did, Sam was grateful.

When the deed was done Sam opened his eyes to look at Cas. He had expected to see something positive displayed in the angel's features, but instead he saw how badly Cas was hurting –now slumped in the chair again with an almost visible weight on his shoulders. The image was depressing.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice laden with concern. He mentally slapped himself for taking a whole week to ask this. Cas loved Dean, and Sam had always known that. Dean had walked away from _both_ of them, not just Sam. Even though Sam knew that he and Dean needed to be apart, it had been a dick move walking away from Cas as well.

"I'm…. well, not fine certainly, but…" Cas blew out a breath and shook his head, "I don't know." He finally replied.

"Yeah…" Sam said. "Me too."

"Sam, would it upset you if I tried to bring him back?" Cas asked after a while and Sam cringed. He was hoping this conversation would have been pushed off a bit longer.

He didn't know how to reply. He was worried about Dean and that gave him pause but the thought of Dean standing in front of him made him angry and he remembered full-well why they needed to be away from each other.

"I… I don't think that's a good idea, Cas. I think my brother and I need different lives for a little while. Ya' know?" Sam explained and repeatedly fisted and flexed his hands over and over again as he stared down at the table. The whole situation… this whole _life_ was so… damaged. He was startled when Cas interrupted his thoughts with a complete flip of attitude.

"I get that the two of you have '_issues',_" Cas began in a harsh voice, with included air-quotes, "but Dean is suffering needlessly. He is depressed and hates himself right now. Do you really want to find out in a week from now that he went on some suicide mission and got himself killed?!" Cas was now standing and his voice had risen to a level that made it reverberate throughout the large room. He wasn't yelling exactly… more like speaking with celestial forcefulness.

Sam stared in awe and flinched at the notion of what Cas was saying. Of course he didn't want that to happen.

"C'mon, Cas. You know I don't want that. What do you want me to do?" He said throwing his hands in the air. "We can't keep going around in circles!" Every damn time! Sam thought. They always came back to the same problems, dying for each other, and lying to each other, and not trusting each other. They were faithlessly co-dependent! God, it was a brotherly relationship that psychoanalysts could write books about!

It annoyed Sam because he knew that Cas mainly wanted Dean back for selfish reasons. The angel didn't care that it wasn't a good idea, he just wanted "_Dean."_ Sam thought angrily mocking the way Cas said his brothers name.

He and Cas bristled at each other for several moments before Castiel said anything in return. "Fine." He turned to walk away and then stopped abruptly but didn't bother facing Sam as he continued in a soft, quiet voice that cut through Sam.

"Just because something is broken does not mean you give up on it. You fix it, Sam. You know who taught me that?" He paused but Sam said nothing, just hung his head feeling horrible.

"You two idiots." Cas finished brusquely and walked up the stairs, slamming the door to his room behind him with angelic force and the sound cracked its way across the open space.

Sam responded in kind by standing up and throwing the chair that he'd been sitting on across the room. It didn't make him feel any better. Not that he'd expected it to.

A part of Sam… a deep down part of him, seated behind all that stubborn anger at his brother, _knew_ that he was being selfish and childish but he just wasn't ready to face Dean. He couldn't handle being around someone –no matter how much he loved them –that had taken away his chance at peace.

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Not five minutes after Cas had returned to his room after his heated discussion with the younger Winchester, he'd heard it.

Dean was praying to him. And it was bad. Really, really bad.

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**A/N: Hope you liked. Please take a moment to review the story so far if you enjoyed it or have critical comments and suggestions. :) Thanks. **

**Oh also, I get excited to post when I finish a chapter and I definitely review and what not, but if someone notices any errors, please feel free to PM me and tell and I will fix it. I don't just like improving upon my future writing skills from lessons learned, but I definitely like to go back and re-edit posted documents so the are cleaner and better for future readers. **

**Have a great weekend!**


	3. Chapter 3: Welcome to Dean Winchester

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this up. I meant to do it yesterday, but then felt the need for some tweaking. **

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_Present. Alleyway._

Cas rejoiced as Dean finally said yes and he speedily took root inside Dean's body, pushing his Grace through Dean's slack mouth. He felt uncomfortable knowing that Dean wouldn't want him here but there was no other choice.

Back at the bunker, the moment he'd heard Dean's prayer he'd known something was terribly wrong. Dean had lost all will to live and there wouldn't have been much time before someone took advantage of that.

Cas would not have been able to get to him fast enough. Not with a car for sure. And he couldn't fly anymore. Thankfully, the Grace he had stolen and forced to become his own could move through space faster than anything else he could think of. He didn't really think Dean would say yes but he had to try.

When he'd found Dean minutes after leaving his vessel behind at the bunker, Dean had been lifeless on the ground and at first Castiel had thought he was dead. It had been the most terrifying nanosecond of his long, long life.

Castiel allowed his light to surge forward and create a barrier around Dean so as to protect him from whatever might find him this way. It wasn't much but at least he could hide Dean's presence while he tried to figure out how to get through to him.

When Castiel finally found his way into Dean's dream he was horrified. Dean was experiencing the worst of Hell and it was so real that Castiel was nearly tricked by it. It had given him pause as he wondered if this could be possible. If maybe Dean _was_ dead, and his soul was in Hell, and that was where Cas had actually found him. But no... it just wasn't possible. Couldn't be possible, he knew that. His own worry was just messing with his ability to reason. It was discomforting how caring for someone so much could so severely impair your decision-making abilities.

Castiel was desperately aware of time passing in this nightmare the same way it passed in Hell and it took what felt like weeks for Castiel to make it through to Dean. He was limited quite significantly by his intangible shape and presence.

Throughout that endless stretch of time before Dean accepted him, Castiel had to watch and endure the sight of a black, desert-textured demon torture, humiliate, and debase his dear friend.

Every time Dean yelled or tears fell from his eyes, Castiel's Grace would flicker like a light burning out –the effect of the suffering he saw threatened his very energy. It was painful to watch and not being able to stop it; Castiel felt useless.

He spoke to Dean as the torture continued but it was almost like they were back at the very beginning when Dean couldn't understand what he was saying. Though something must have shifted in the last several years because it was clear Dean's eardrums were not experiencing deafening noise this time around. He was thankful for that at the very least.

Castiel continued uttering Dean's name, said comforting words, and repeatedly asked Dean to say yes to him. His vehement efforts to pull his friend back to reality while being outside of a vessel were exhausting and difficult. Dean's own state of insanity made everything Castiel did seem tainted and Dean fought him over and over again.

As the demon tore through Dean's shaking body, a moment of stilled time passed and in shouting Dean's name as he'd done so many times before, Cas managed to finally get through and Dean said yes.

The moment of elation for this victory was crippled by the tone of Dean's acceptance. There was a finality to it that made Cas' Grace turn cold. The angel felt anguish rip through him knowing that Dean thought it was the end and that he was happy his life was over.

It was unsettling and ironic that Dean was hoping and expecting to die, and yet was now being possessed by an angel. What a fitting parallel.

Dean would never forgive him for this. His heart dropped with that knowledge but he trudged on in a desperate attempt to save someone who no longer wanted to be saved.

Cas opened Dean's eyes from inside and pulled the body up off of the ground. Dean was asleep inside his own head. Completely oblivious to what was happening and Castiel hoped he could keep him that way until he found some way to restore Dean's faith in life.

Castiel considered returning to Sam, but immediately discarded the thought. Sam was still upset and had made it forcefully clear the last time they spoke that he didn't think the two brothers shouldn't be near each other for a while.

Considering his options, Cas began walking in search of transportation or a hotel to spend the night.

Twenty minutes into his walk he located a shabby, run-down motel and instead of going through the formality of booking into a room, he just walked to one on the ground floor he could tell was vacant and used his angel abilities to unlock the door and walk through it, shutting the door behind him.

He had already discarded of the alcohol in Dean's system and was stumped as to what his next actions should be.

He didn't want Dean to force him out but he couldn't just leave Dean in a drifting state of nothingness inside his own mind.

He proceeded cautiously and constructed a dream he remembered Dean having so long ago. Back when they were fighting the apocalypse.

It was almost funny that times had been simpler then.

So much had changed. The world had become a bit darker, a bit more hopeless. Heaven had collapsed. More people that they cared about had suffered and died. Through it all, the three of them had somehow maintained a level of consistency. It was tested time and time again, but Castiel had begun to see Dean and Sam as resilient and unchanging in the face of anything. His belief in this was crumbling before him and he hoped he could save it.

Underneath it all, there was something more. A thread; weaving through the fabric of their lives. It was something that he shared with just Dean and it gave him hope. It was unlike anything else he had ever experienced in the thousands upon thousands of years that he'd existed as an angel. There was depth to it, and intimacy, and somewhere he suspected… no… he _knew_, it was more than friendship, more than him being a guardian angel for Dean… it was like they were meant to be together. In what capacity that togetherness existed didn't really matter to him, just that it was there, present and everlasting.

The dream fabricated itself at his will and he watched Dean appear in the chair on the dock, fishing apparatus in hand. In all appearances, he seemed peaceful. He had not yet registered Castiel's presence in the fake-dream.

He approached Dean from behind, presenting himself in the shape of the vessel he'd come to identify himself with. He placed a comforting hand on his friends shoulder.

"Dean." He said softly in greeting.

"Cas? What are you doing here?" Dean asked as his head torqued around. The surprise and shock was present in the open mouth and the whites of his eyes.

"You are dreaming." Cas lied. Although, it wasn't _entirely_ a lie. It was a fake dream, but a dream all the same.

"Oh…" Dean's eyes flickered away as if he hadn't expected the answer he'd been given.

"You thought you were dead?" Cas guessed looking down at his friend.

"It would be better if I was." Dean said bitterly. Castiel's eyes shut tightly as he tried to block out the image of Dean's lifeless body in the alley.

"No, it would not." He squeezed Dean's shoulder and allowed a chair to appear out of thin air so that he could sit beside Dean instead of towering above him.

He eased into the wooden seat and looked over at his friend. They shared a silent exchange where many things were said and yet nothing at all.

Which was frequently the case for them.

He and Dean had a way of communicating that was different and intimate. They said more to each other when hardly anything was said at all. Unfortunately, this time things were so far in disrepair that a simple look wouldn't be enough to solve the problems before them.

"Why do you want to die?" Castiel questioned but didn't bother waiting for an answer before continuing. "Or perhaps more accurately… why do you no longer wish to live?"

"We have all made mistakes, Dean, but it is the lives we lead, the good that we have done, and the responsibilities in this life that we hold that have resulted in our mistakes being larger and more damaging than mistakes of common men and women. While that is frustrating and at times utterly tragic, it is fleeting in comparison to the good that you have done."

Castiel sighed as the words reflected his own inner shame at his past actions, but as he pushed forward, he hoped the words would heal both Dean and himself.

"Your worth in this world is immense, Dean." Castiel breathed deeply, steadying himself before he could continue.

"It is great and pure. And not just to the world, but to Sam, despite his current petulant attitude, and… to me as well. No matter what you might believe about your actions, about your effect on others, do not for one second think that being without you is better for me. Or Sam."

"When Sam said what he said the night you left; about what the _real_ problem was –do you know what he was referring to?" Castiel looked sideways at Dean.

Dean's red-rimmed eyes shifted to look at Castiel. He raised his eyebrows – a gesture for Cas to continue, obviously not caring to speak.

"Dean… your grip on family… the people you care about is so… desperate that it backfires on you. Time and time again. And it will keep happening because all your relationships are one-sided, closed-off with a tight-lid. You only have one way of showing people you care about them and that is either fanatically keeping them alive, or dying for them. Usually the two go hand-in-hand, actually."

"You needed Sam alive because you don't know any other way to love him. Your father raised you to define yourself in a way that included Sam to such a degree that you don't know how to live in a world where he doesn't exist."

Castiel paused to risk a glance to his left, Dean's face was now obstructed by his hands but there was dampness visible on the tips of his fingers from wiping away tears. Cas turned back to the water knowing that Dean wouldn't be able to stand the scrutiny of his stare as he spoke.

"Sam wants you to learn to be without him… _that_ is why he let you leave, Dean. It was not because he didn't want you there." Castiel paused remembering something from long ago. "It was actually quite smart on Gabriel's behalf to teach Sam the lesson that you are now forced to learn yourself."

Dean remained still but Castiel could hear how broken his breathes were as he struggled to pull in air through the force of his misery and the tightness in his throat.

Castiel wasn`t the best at providing comfort but he lifted his arm between them and rested it across Dean`s shoulders. He felt the younger man shake beneath him and he watched as Dean doubled forward, letting his head drop between his knees.

Dean's fight-roughened hands wrapped around his own head and he just stayed there, closed in on himself, avoiding Castiel`s words.

Cas tentatively moved his palm up and down Dean`s back. The gesture was one of the more affectionate physical displays that Dean had ever allowed. It made Castiel feel powerful in a strange way. Perhaps it was because Dean didn't let anybody close to him, not like this.

They stayed that way for a while, time passing in the dream-like expanse at a lingering pace. Castiel was thankful that he`d hastily performed a holding spell on his normal vessel so that it would be unchanged upon his return –whenever that might be.

Dean`s body twitched and he rubbed his hands fiercely against his own face as if trying to forcibly rearrange it into something normal again.

He sniffed once loudly and turned his head to the side, his left hand moving to support it propped up on his knee.

"How do I fix who I am? What I've become?" Dean asked roughly, his voice scratchy and thick.

"I don't believe there is a manual for this kind of thing." Cas admitted, continuing to rub Dean's back as long as he allowed the comfort.

"Hmph…" Dean exhaled an amused sound and Cas found himself smirking in response.

The change was subtle, but the air shifted just slightly. Castiel felt he'd made some progress here.

They continued to observe one another, locked into each other's gaze. Castiel managed the most supportive and reassuring presence he could generate.

Dean's eyes suddenly darted to the side, finally noticing that Cas was stroking his back. His friend didn't flinch, didn't tell him to stop, just sort of accepted it and then turned back to face the water.

Castiel watched the water ripple and split his attention between Dean and the scenery.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Castiel knew he should push this along, figure out a way to have Dean accept that things would eventually be okay (not that Cas really knew that, of course), but at least then he could leave Dean's body and they could struggle to move forward.

For now, he was content. Nothing was truly solved. Dean was still damaged and mostly hopeless but there was a calm between them, and within Dean's soul that Castiel could not find it in himself to disrupt.

Naturally, in the moment of peace they'd found, Castiel caught sight of a wavering in the air at the edge of the lake; a dark spot of malevolence that Dean's subconscious had allowed back in.

The bright daylight dropped into shadows and the air became stifling.

Dean suddenly vanished from beside him and Castiel was on his feet before he'd even realized he'd moved.

He should have known that Dean wouldn't stay complacent for long. The human was nothing if not stubborn.

Cas sighed heavily and began searching through Dean's subconscious trying to find where the older Winchester had retreated to.

Castiel was ashamed to say that he glimpsed into memories more than he should have as he made his way through Dean's mind. He could hardly believe how many thoughts and memories included him.

Sam was the strongest presence in Dean's mind, of course, but the thoughts and memories for only him were laced with need, worry, urgency, and… desire.

Their relationship was, as it had been for some time, coalescing into something entirely different. Every tragic event they made it through together, a new facet of depth and understanding emerged. They could no longer classify the relationship as … just friends.

Castiel didn't think Dean would or could ever move past the in-between stage they'd found themselves in.

As Castiel passed through a vague memory of purgatory, his own mind pulled back to the first and only time Dean had come close to admitting they were… something else, something more.

It gave Castiel renewed drive and will to ensure Dean became whole again. Maybe he could fix Dean… and perhaps he could even fix _them._

* * *

_Purgatory – Day 97 of 361_

Castiel had been settled against a large outcropping of rock, a better shield from the forest than his previous hiding spot.

He was grateful for the respite. Despite being a full angel again, the constant running and fighting was weakening him. His ability to transport himself was hindered to a dangerous degree. So as a result, he was always on the lookout for safe places to hide and regroup.

Castiel tried as best he could to find solace towards the evenings especially. Usually around the time he knew Dean would pray to him. He hated missing out on Dean's words because he had to fight. Dean's voice was one of the only things keeping him together. That, and the need for penance. The conviction that he deserved this existence and must therefore suffer through it.

This night was different. The air was still and the surroundings were, for the time being, safe. Castiel gave into exhaustion and curled up on a patch of spongy green vegetation.

With his eyes closed, he waited.

And waited…

His body tensed, wondering if tonight would be the night Dean gave up… or worse. Seconds before coming to the decision of looking for Dean himself to make sure he was alive, he heard the human's voice in his mind.

_Cas… _

It was heartbreaking. The sadness and pain that Cas felt in Dean's voice made him tremble.

_It's been three months. Are you even alive? Jesus… I hope you're okay. Fuck Cas, I __need__ you to be okay. I don't think you get it man... When I say that I need you… I mean, I honestly don't think I can live without you. Not here. I can't do this… Oh God… Why can't you be with me right now? It's been a bad couple of days… _

The prayer fell silent but Dean's emotions flowed through him. He knew Dean wasn't aware what it felt like for Cas when Dean prayed, but it wasn't just the words he felt –it was everything. Every nuance of feeling that Dean experienced, so did he.

He could tell that Dean was fighting back tears, his throat tightening and stilling the words that he had planned on continuing.

Sometimes the prayers were short, sometimes angry or even hateful, sometimes soft and comforting, but very rarely they would be long and … but when they were, it was difficult to endure; to bear the weight of those emotions.

Tonight was one of those prayers.

_You are out there somewhere aren't you? I can feel it… you, I think. Besides, you have to be alive because if … if you're dead… I…. I'm done. What would be the point?_

Castiel felt a moment of panic hoping Dean wouldn't just give up before he heard the next words.

_But I keep looking. I fight every friggin' day trying to get to you. I worry too. All the fucking time…I worry._

_I mean, I feel like you're alive, but can you even hear me? Like right now… Cas? C'mon… give me a sign, something! Speak to me– can't you do that? Fuck! Cas, Please!_

Dean was yelling inside his head now. His emotions teetering on desperation and need.

_Don't you get it?! _The shouting continued. _I fucking need you! I don't give a shit where you are or what you're doing. Maybe you're lost. Maybe …. I don't know. I don't want to think about the many reasons that you're not with me right now._

Dean became silent again, but Castiel felt his nervousness, how openly exposed he was feeling and Castiel was tethered so strongly to Dean's prayer in that moment that when he continued speaking, it felt like Dean was right beside him.

_ But I can give you one reason why you should be with me… _

Castiel's heart constricted, pulling tight against his ribcage.

_You know what it is…_ Dean continued in a soft whisper. _I won't say it because you're not here and I… please… Cas. You know you should be with me._

Castiel felt the thoughts behind the words and his eyes stung.

It took all of his willpower to remain where he was and not fly to Dean in that moment.

* * *

Coming back to the present, Cas realized that time and ignorance had lessened the impact of those words. Dean had never brought it up and so neither had he. He had even begun to think that the impression he'd gotten from that prayer wasn't what he'd thought and hoped it was.

Then Naomi had entered the picture and … a silent, desperate prayer in a hungry, bloody, wild place seemed less earth-shattering that it had originally felt.

But Dean had been very right that night. Cas _should_ be where Dean is.

Except he needed to find him first, he thought as he continued weaving through the synapses of Dean's mind.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. Please review if ya liked it :) I'll try and get the next one up before Friday.**


	4. Chapter 4: I adapt to the unknown

**A/N: Chapter title is from Metallica - "Wherever I may roam". Also at the end of this fic are the lyrics (I take no credit obviously). It's a slow road to change for Dean Winchester and there are many dangerous pot-holes along the way. **

* * *

Castiel pushed through a memory of Dean and Sam on one of their many hunts, and finally found what he was looking for.

The image startled him, pained him, and he desperately hoped it had never actually happened.

Sadly, he suspected otherwise.

A young Dean lay before him on the ground, an orange and brown carpet ratty beneath him. He couldn't have been more than twelve, perhaps thirteen, and John Winchester stood over him shouting obscenities at the poor boy. There was blood on Dean's face; evidence of the violence that John had inflicted on the child. Dean was crying and holding an arm over his head in a pathetic attempt to shield himself from the man who should have been a better father.

John was yelling and blaming Dean for Sam having run off under Dean's care.

Castiel always thought of Dean as tough and arrogant in the face of anyone or anything attacking him but this was not _that_ Dean. This Dean was cowering under the onslaught of the accusations –allowing himself to be beaten and diminished, likely because he felt he deserved the punishment.

Castiel moved forward purposefully and shoved the contents of the memory to a distant corner of Dean's mind. He found himself looking down at a full-grown Dean curled on the ground.

The angel crouched to the ground beside his charge and cradled Dean's head in his palms unsure of whether Dean still believed he was a young boy or not. Cas brushed the damp hair away from Dean's forehead and looked down at him

"Ca-as?" Dean stuttered and then turned over, flopping spread-eagle on the ground.

Cas sat back against his heels and didn't know what else he could say. It was no wonder that Dean had a hard time formulating healthy relationships – he had no basis for what one should be. Not that Castiel had any advice or recommendations on that front. He had slaughtered much of his own family... and done even more unspeakable things. It was a wonder Dean and Sam still spoke to him, actually.

Well, regardless, this wasn't about him. This was about Dean.

"Dean… do you trust me?" He asked finally, his eyes shifting away from Dean so that the hunter would feel more comfortable.

"Cas… where are we?" Dean asked instead, ignoring him. Cas frowned.

"In your dream." He reiterated in a tight voice. "Do you trust me?" Castiel tried again, his voice a bit sharper, as he played with his tie. It wasn't his original blue tie… this one was darker. He liked it better.

"Yeah 'course. You know I do." Dean pushed his body up enough to rest back on his elbows and looked at Cas, waiting for him to go on. There was a bit more life in his eyes than Cas had seen at the lake so hopefully things were going a bit better.

At least they didn't seem any worse. That had to count for something.

"Do you trust me when I say that you are not poison?" Dean scoffed at that.

"Dean, you are just… psychologically damaged." He began considerately, "...and you need to trust me when I say that you will, in fact, be okay. You don't need to believe it yet… just trust me to believe it for you." He added earnestly and was shocked when Dean busted up in laughter, his shoulders bouncing up and down.

Cas wasn't sure he would ever hear the sound again. He so rarely heard it to begin with. He certainly had no idea what was causing the reaction now.

"What in this do you find humorous?" Cas' eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he tilted his head to watch Dean throw an arm across his stomach and his eyes and mouth crinkling at the edges.

"You... just called me ..._psychologically damaged!_!" Dean barked and continued laughing while slapping a hand to his leg.

Castiel still wasn't sure why this was funny at all, but Dean's laughter was contagious and it lifted his spirits and soon his own bursts of happiness joined in. It was strange and wonderful, and Castiel couldn't take his eyes off of Dean. He had never been more thankful for being inadvertently funny.

In less than a minute they were both laughing heartily; their bodies shaking, tears unwittingly streaming down their faces. It had been a long, long time since they had laughed together. It felt incredible; like a weight had slid off of them (even if only temporarily), it was very welcome.

With a great conclusive sigh, the laughter died down and the quiet took over.

The landscape shifted and they were suddenly sitting on dry soft grass beneath a cloudless perfect night sky, littered with millions of white perfect stars. Cas fondly noticed the Impala parked in the distance out of the corner of his eye. He looked down between his legs at the ground and smiled – trying to hide his contentment from Dean.

Castiel hadn't caused the change in dreamscape so it had obviously been Dean and that made Castiel happy and hopeful. _This was good._

He could feel Dean watching him; observing him with a notable intensity.

"What?" Cas asked finally, his eyes darting to the side to glance at Dean sitting cross-legged beside him. His voice was lightly amused. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"So…" Dean began, listing to the side a bit in Cas' direction, "how do you like my body?" The hunter asked straight-faced.

Castiel replied by choking on his own air and whipped his head more to the side to stare wide-eyed at Dean's entirely unexpected question.

"Ummm…?" Was about all Castiel could force out of his mouth. His eyes shifted all around from anxiety and fear.

_Shit…_

He had no idea if Dean was asking whether Castiel "liked_"_ his body, as in this very moment looking at it, or, if he had somehow realized that his "supposed" best friend was actually possessing him.

Either question made Cas want to disappear. He was embarrassed, ashamed, cornered - answering either implication would be ... revealing.

Dean must have noticed the building panic because his features softened their rigid stance, and he held Cas with his eyes.

"Cas… I remember." Dean clarified gently as he bit his lower lip. "I know this isn't really a dream… not exactly." Dean sort of frowned then. "Or is it? I don't know how it works." He admitted raising his shoulders in a shrug.

"I remember passing out – pathetic, right?" He asked rhetorically. "I remember the alley getting brighter, but then I was back in Hell somehow and … _fuck_… it felt so real – but then you were there. I thought it was real, and I was pissed 'cause I thought you'd risked your life to pull me outta the pit … _again_. But then I remembered saying yes to you… and I felt you." Dean's voice shook ever so slightly at the end but he smiled and took a deep breath. Cas found himself trembling as Dean spoke.

"Honestly, it felt… friggin' peaceful. I wouldn't have expected that…" Dean said nervously and rubbed a hand along the back his neck.

Dean was still smiling after he became quiet again. Castiel just stared; temporarily mute and frozen.

It took a few minutes before he felt able to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." Cas braced himself. "I didn't feel as though I had another choice." The words were bittersweet to both of them. The same line used so many times over to excuse badly chosen actions. Castiel frowned and waited for Dean to expel him.

He didn't realize his eyes had been clamped shut until he felt a tight grip on his arm; it startled him. Cas opened his eyes to find Dean sitting directly beside him, obviously having shifted closer, his friends face very close to his own.

"I know, Cas... It's okay. I get it." Dean said and there was no trace of anger, hidden or otherwise.

Dean squeezed his arm and moved it to rest across Cas' shoulders, replicating what Cas had done by the lake.

"You're not mad? Don't you want me gone?" Castiel asked in disbelief. He was still cringing, waiting for the inevitable force to slam his Grace out and far away.

"How could I be mad!? It would be damn hypocritical of me to get mad at you for doing something I forced on Sam because I, _also_, felt like I didn't have another choice." Dean's tone was harsh and his features hardened into cruel lines. His self-hatred displayed front and centre. It gave Castiel the sudden urge to slap him... but instead he watched and under his sight, Dean softened, the anger abating for now.

The hunter twisted the hem of his jeans between his fingers with the hand that was free and continued speaking, this time in a softer voice, while looking down at the ground.

"Besides… it's you… you're not some psycho angel. You're just… m- ...Cas." The words were shaky and unsure and Cas wished he'd known what Dean had been about to say, it sounded like 'my' … something.

Castiel longed to be Dean's… anything, something… he didn't care.

Cas memorized Dean's profile against the moonlight and wished the hunter had not suffered through so much. If only who could have pulled him from this life as he'd done with him from Hell. If only he could have saved him... really, truly saved him.

"I'm sorry I'm so fucked up." Dean said after a few moments. The tone was reproachful – filled with regret for the things he'd done. Cas shook his head in exasperation at the self-hatred attitude.

"We're all fucked up, Dean." Cas granted, forcing a smile in Dean's direction.

"Gee…Thanks for the ray of sunshine." Dean said sarcastically while he pulled Cas a bit closer towards him, their bodies now pushed flush together along their sides right down to their hips and thighs. The gesture seemed instinctive and unplanned; like they had done this before, though they definitely hadn't. Castiel would have remembered the feeling of Dean's side pressed up against him, the smell of him this close…the heat of his body seeping into his own clothes...

"You're right though. What you said before." Dean began in serious reflection, interrupting Cas' heady, inappropriate thoughts.

"I need to be… different. I need to –"

" –relax." Castiel substituted for him. "Just relax…" Castiel was chasing this moment of content and wished for Dean join him in it. At least in this moment. Just for now.

_I need this. We need this._

"Relax?" Dean cocked his head to smirk at Cas. He was evidently charmed by Cas' trivial suggestion. No earth-shattering, soul-reaffirming psychoanalytic prescriptions… just _peace_.

Castiel turned his head to meet Dean's green-eyes and everything warped. The atmosphere in the dream grew and flexed around them.

They were suddenly too close – maybe not close enough, Cas thought. But infinitely closer than they've ever been. Not just physically, intimately close, but on some kind of soul-deep level. It shouldn't be too surprising considering they were sharing the same subconscious but this was different… this was skin-tightening, mouth-suddenly-dry, heart hammering closeness and Castiel was terrified.

A heated tension pushed between them; the erupted outcome from a million looks stretched out across several years, a million little touches, a million private thoughts swarmed through the air between them like flashes on a spastic television screen.

Cas grew steadily uncomfortable and he watched Dean's eyes shift slightly and it was obvious he too was being affected by the vibe that had sprung up with a forceful surge after years of neglect.

Dean's stare flickered down to his lips and Castiel licked them in response. His face felt like it was on fire, but in a good nervous kind of way. His body tightened like a spring, ready for action.

They didn't know what to do next – the world halted and so did they. The want and need was clear in their weighted breathes and dark stares as they intently watched each other but it became a stalemate, neither of them wanted to be the first to break, to admit there was something _more_.

It definitely didn't help that their lives were shaken and disjointed. Castiel had never understand the concept of 'bad timing' more than he did in this moment. He was desperate to erase the tiny amount of space left between them but Dean wasn't his right self and there was also a deep-seated part of the angel that thought he would be rejected. He wasn't stupid, he knew Dean's thoughts about him - even if he hadn't before, Dean's memories and feelings offered irrefutable evidence - but he also knew the difference between thinking about something you wanted and actually deciding to act on it.

Was this hushed, ignored, long-building concept of "them" something that could turn into a reality? Cas doubted that very much, at least from Dean's perspective, and that set his resolve.

Dean clearly felt Castiel starting to pull away because he tightened his grip on Cas' shoulder, holding him in place, forcibly keeping them breath-sharing close but stopping short of doing anything else. Dean didn't speak or do anything. Maybe he couldn't, trapped in the same static pattern that held him as well.

Feeling forced to say something and yet being unable to form words, Castiel allowed himself to show his gratitude for this moment in the only way he could. He let the corner of his mouth turn up as he continued to stare into Dean's eyes… his soul. A smile of appreciation for Dean's affection - in whatever form that manifested.

_I can be whatever you need me to be._

Dean smiled back and it wasn't forced or weird, it seemed… _relaxed _and_ relieved_ of all things and that made Cas chuckle quietly. The hot tension eased and something more comfortable settled between them.

Dean continued smiling as Castiel laughed softly – just quiet huffs of breath and a slight tremble of his shoulders. The whole exchange between them was unlike anything else…

An entire conversation had passed between them but Cas wasn't entirely sure what the end result was.

They'd spent a lot of time together over the years, and so many times they'd been on the brink of something, of a step never being taken.

This moment felt exactly like those times, though exponentially stronger.

After a few more unsteady, but slowly calming breaths, Dean broke the heavy silence.

"So if you're… uhmm..." Dean blushed, "… in me...," coughing awkwardly to which Castiel smiled broadly in response.

"…then … where is _your_ body? Or Jimmy's? You know what I mean." Dean gestured vaguely into the air.

"At the bunker. It is protected." He answered, unable to hold back his blatant staring. Their silent conversation had shaken something loose and it refused to be put away again.

"Oh." Dean turned away finally and settled his eyes on the movement of the trees and grass as the fake dream-like wind pushed everything around.

"Good." Dean added with a slight nod of his head, his thumb grazed in a quick back and forth movement at the side of Cas' neck.

"Dean…" Castiel didn't want to say anything that might shatter the moment but it had to be said at some point. Sadly, they couldn't stay here forever, much as he wanted to.

"I really do think it is a good idea for you and Sam to live a part for a while, _but_… that doesn't mean I think you should be alone. I can stay with you… wherever you plan to be." Cas suggested nervously.

He was torn. Dean needed him – he knew that. But so did Sam, who was still going to need a bit more healing over the next couple weeks. It was a selfish suggestion in the end… but Castiel would rather be with Dean, so that swayed his decision.

In his defense, Dean was clearly the more inadvertently suicidal of the two, he reasoned with himself.

Besides, it wasn't that Dean and Sam needed to remain separated indefinitely, they could visit each other (and they should), but it probably wasn't the best thing for them to spend every waking moment together as they had for the last three-plus decades.

Clearly _that_ had been problematic! Castiel chuckled internally at his own thoughts.

"Caasss?" Dean said his name like a teasing question, bringing him back to the present.

"Are you saying you want to move in with me?" He turned to give Cas a swaggering grin.

"I.. I… umm… I just –" Cas sputtered stupidly.

" –It's okay…" Dean cut him off, chuckling lightly, and the hand resting on Castiel's shoulder stroked downwards along his arm. "I want you around too, Cas." Dean added to reassure him.

Dean touching him felt amazing. Perfect.

"I uh.. I find that I don't want to leave." Cas admitted sadly. He should be ashamed for staying here longer than he needed to. Dean seemed to be okay… well maybe not okay… but _stable_.

"What's it like? You know … possessing me?" Dean considered him seriously and it was still puzzling to him that Dean had thus far not shown one iota of discomfort for the fact that Castiel was currently taking over his body.

"It's.. strange, I guess. But mostly because it's you. I feel like I am perversely invading something Holy… and-" Castiel tried to explain but stopped when Dean tugged at his hair to get his attention.

"Holy?!" Dean gasped in a shocked voice. His mouth stretched languidly into a strange smile that made Cas' stomach feel unsettled. It reminded him of the smile Dean had given him back when they'd been at the bar over a month ago and Dean had been saying something about _hook-ups_ and _perfection_… Cas could hardly remember the rest of the conversation from the way Dean had looked at him.

Dean pulled harder at the hair at the back of Cas' head –fisting it in his hand – using the leverage to force Castiel's face to be within an inch of Dean's.

Castiel panicked from the sudden proximity and the shiver he felt from Dean pulling his hair. His breath became rapid and for a split-second he thought Dean was mad, but then the Winchester spoke and the vibration of his voice made Cas' insides feel like liquid.

"_Nothing_ about my body is Holy." Deans' eyes darkened considerably, his voice just as deep. It sent a tremor through Cas' and he had the impulsive urge to kiss Dean. Cas' stomach clenched with the desire for that kiss.

Dean tilted his head down the smallest amount, his eyelids drifting shut, his breath warm against Cas' lips. A second before Dean's lips could touch his own, Cas freaked and disintegrated himself.

Dean fell forwards onto the ground, catching himself on his arms before he face-planted the grass.

Castiel re-appeared a couple feet away, standing silently but breathing in heavy pants. His chest thumped up and down and he stared wide-eyed at Dean on the ground. The Winchester was more than a little aggravated if the expression was anything to go by.

"Cas! What the hell!?" Dean threw his arms in the air. His cheeks were pink and he was panting the same as Castiel was. Cas could see the sudden embarrassment but it was, thankfully, losing out against the irritation.

"It's just…uhh… if what I think was about to happen… was _actually_ about to happen –I would sincerely prefer we were not in your head." Castiel hastily supplied in explanation and hoped he hadn't screwed things up.

"I want it to be real…" Cas said in a whisper, more to himself than to Dean.

He felt relieved when Dean looked at him, uncharacteristically shy, and smiled. "Yeah… me too. Sorry." Dean said nervously and jumped to his feet, shaking his body in the process as though trying to dispel the now-weird _almost_ kiss.

Castiel sort of blanched at the sudden realization... he and Dean almost kissed...

Kissed...

Castiel felt the need to curse but snapped back to attention just in time for Dean to focus on him.

"How long will it take you to get here? Or wherever I am." Dean asked with sudden excitement and then tacked on suspiciously: "Where am I?" His eyes narrowing.

"A motel, but I didn't pay. Actually, I didn't check in so you probably can't stay here very long." Cas informed him. A part of him could still feel the bed beneath Dean's body, the stale motel air, the darkness and quiet.

The anticipation between them started to build again as they thought of their imminent reconnection - making them both highly nervous.

Castiel also felt shamefully happy, especially considering that the state of Dean's relationship with his brother was still going to need a lot of work. Not to mention Dean himself. He might seem fine, but Castiel knew the man was trying very, very hard to hold himself together.

"Right… How about we meet halfway?" Dean suggested and Castiel watched in amusement as Dean fidgeted, his eyes unable to stay in one place.

Castiel agreed and walked up to Dean, stopping with barely a foot between them, he didn't dare get any closer.

"I'll see you soon then…" Castiel said; more of a demand than a promise. There was a small anxious part of him that was scared this was all a well-conceived lie to get rid of him so that Dean could go off and die in peace - somewhere that Castiel wouldn't be able to find him this time.

The worry must have shown in the creases of his forehead because Dean virtually discarded of all the remaining space between them and put his warm big hands on either side of Castiel's face to hold him still, forcing his head straight but tilted up slightly since Dean was taller.

"Hey… look at me." Dean said and Castiel focused on the spectrum of green in his eyes.

"Cas, I _promise_ you that I will not go off and get myself ganked in a blaze of flaming glory when you vacate my hot piece of ass, okay?" Dean grinned crookedly at him, and Cas nodded absently since he was mildly distracted.

Even though Dean was holding his face a set distance away (presumably so they could actually converse), their hips were provocatively close. Dean's body was curved in towards him and Castiel couldn't help that his gaze flashed down to the very little remaining air between their bodies.

Dean snickered, "…so you _do_ like my body?!" He teased.

Castiel blushed which he didn't really think possible in this dream-state, but he did nevertheless.

Everything about this fake-dream was bewildering and unexpected. That included Dean himself. Maybe it was because they were both occupying the same mind, the same body, maybe it was the innate closeness in that context.. who knows... either way, Dean had never been like this with him, and he had never ventured to test the boundaries of their friendship before - strained as it could be. Whatever the reason, Castiel felt gifted that where he had expected anger and distrust resulting from his panic-induced actions of possessing Dean, he instead got closer to what he wanted, something he never thought he could have.

"Well… how about this?" Dean ventured, interrupting his inner monologue of revelations. "The sooner you leave, the sooner we can meet back up… and the sooner you can get inside me again." Dean grinned wickedly, licking his lips to try and dampen the smile.

"…_Sort of_." He added after a seconds' thought.

Dean licked his lips again and quirked an eyebrow at him but Castiel was utterly confused. He didn't understand why Dean would want him to possess his body again? Did he find it pleasant?

"Why would you wa –?" Dean abruptly cut off Cas' impending question by placing a hand over his mouth. It felt kind of good, oddly sexual, so despite Cas being the stronger of the two he let Dean keep his hand pressed against his lips.

The unhindered, novel, and frequent touching that was evidently permitted was hard to acclimate to. Cas body was whacking out from the sensory overload and he had to force his brain to repeat what Dean had said... "_inside me again..."_

"Think about it…" Dean hinted and those green eyes glinted with mischief. Dean's face was quickly turning red and Cas had a moment's pause wondering why Dean would be getting ... _flustered_... would be the most apt description.

_I_ am _thinking! What cou_-

_... OH!_

_OH... oh…_

Cas' eyebrows practically ascended off of his face in shock at the blatant sexual invitation - it was just so forward and Castiel may be a little thick when it came to sexual interest, but Dean's audaciousness was surprising.

Reasonably, he should have expected as much from Dean, knowing Dean's usually bold in his advances with women once he's decided he wants them, but Castiel is a man, and an angel, and a friend... he'd honestly expected Dean to be awkward and hesitant regarding anything physical between them.

When Dean saw the exact moment Cas must have clued in he smiled broadly and winked. Again, _entirely _unexpected. Castiel's face grew very, very red and hot. There was too much blood pushing under his skin and it was a maddeningly honest display. He tried to force it away but settled for a rigid stance, fists held tight at his sides, his mouth in a tight line.

"Now. _Go_." Dean said sternly as he stepped back, pushing Cas by the shoulders to widen the gap between them. Cas grimaced at the sudden lack of proximity but then remembered what Dean had said… the sooner he leaves, the sooner this can be real. Skin and lips and other things level of '_real'_... that was both equal measure of terrifying and exciting.

So Castiel nodded because if he tried to use words, he gathered his voice probably would have cracked.

He collected himself in a fluid motion and moved out of Dean's soul, surging out of his body that he left lying on the motel room bed.

He glanced back once as he let his essence float for a moment, memorizing the look on Dean's face before he woke up.

Castiel knew it wouldn't be long before they would see each other, but after what felt like weeks inside of Dean's mind, any separation from that level of closeness was going to feel like a dull, cold, cavernous pit. Perhaps he was being a bit dramatic, he reasoned. Everything would be okay.

_Soon._

* * *

Dean woke up on the bed feeling refreshed and calm. He didn't move, didn't even flex his fingers.

He thought back on all that happened and he was a mess of thoughts. His emotions were so... all over the place that he felt borderline bi-polar.

He flipped between wanting to off himself, cry like a friggin' baby, or lock himself in the bathroom and jack-off to the image of Cas' face flushed, his mouth hanging open, his eyes dark and excited.

It was like a twisted carnival Merry-Go-Round of WTF...

Dean ran a hand through his short hair, surprised that it felt clean considering he had spent a good while lying in a fucking alley – which he felt beyond ashamed over. Obviously Cas must have mojo'd him sober and clean and that only made him feel worse.

He was embarrassed as hell knowing that Cas had seen him that way. Then again, that was probably nothing compared to what Cas might have seen inside him. God knows what Cas had stumbled across in there - Dean was all-too aware of the bat-shit crazy he had going on in his head.

_Shit_…What had he been thinking, anyway? This wasn't him. All that 'woe-is-me' crap was for douchey-emo-dickwads. So he fucked up… BFD. Right?

Shit happens… He needed to get his damn act together.

He took a deep breath and sat up. The room was dark and quiet, reflecting how alone he was, and felt. He wanted to mentally slap himself for being so goddamned needy. Cause that's what it all boiled down to wasn't it? Deep-down, though he would never admit it, he was so desperately lonely that the thought of being in this shit-hole of a world without his brother was unthinkable.

But Cas had been right – Sam didn't need that kind of cling-wrap. Ya know… set them free and all that… _whatever. _

Grow-up, Dean thought to himself. Be a man. Show Sam that you can be a better family for him.

And on that note, he thought… maybe show Cas you aren't a dick. Dean tried not to lose his mind thinking about all that had happened in the privacy of his head. He and Cas had leapt off the proverbial cliff and there was no going back… at least not without repercussions.

He would do his best. He would try. He owed them that, didn't he?

Dean fumbled in his pockets looking for his phone, aware that his hands were a bit shaky, but no one was there to see it so who cares?

He opened Cas' contact and was faced with the blank screen and touchable keyboard. He typed slowly..

**Dean: Can't wait to see u.. for real. Wanted u to know that.**

Dean puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath and then hit send. Rolling off his sudden upstanding psychological behaviour, he pulled up Sam's contact and tapped absently on the screen trying to decide what to say. He should call, of course, but… you know… baby steps.

**Dean: Hey Sammy… I'm sorry, u know, for everything. And I shouldn't have left.**

After hitting send on that message he re-pocketed his phone, used the bathroom quickly, and headed out the door slow and low so hopefully the front office wouldn't see him and accuse him of squatting.

A quick cab ride later and he was back at his original motel room across town, his baby parked by the front door.

He was halfway done packing his stuff when his phone dinged. It was a message from Cas.

**Cas: Me too. Sam saw your message. He is being stubborn (I believe this to be a Winchester trait). Just give him time. Send him another message in a little while.**

Dean closed the phone, sorta hurt that Sam was purposely not responding but he could be patient.

When he was packed, he walked out of the room and stopped to stare at the sun breaching the horizon creating a light glow over everything. It was hard to believe that his drunken, idiotic (and potentially dangerous) stupor had been less than twelve hours ago. It seemed like months had passed between then and now... and shit, maybe it had? In the crazy hallways of his brain who knew what time meant there. Hadn't he heard somewhere that a dream can feel like hours and yet only last in actual time for something like seven minutes? The thought triggered a memory of "Seven Minutes in Heaven" from when he was fourteen and he couldn't stop the comparison between making out with Jenny and almost making out with Cas... He decided that Cas being an angel and everything had a better run at the whole "_Heaven"_ part of that game.

His brain repeated the thought... '_making out with Cas'..._ Jesus Fuck...

Dean huffed a breath and shook his head trying to get rid of the weird imagery that had nestled into the cracks of the pleasure-centres of his mind.

He threw his duffel into the back as he plopped down into the driver's seat. The door creaked as he pulled it shut and he started his baby, once-again rejoicing in the rumbling sound of the engine.

Before reversing out his space, he texted Cas again. They were a good fourteen hours apart and Dean had a head start so he figured he'd just drive until he decided to stop and tell Cas where he was.

**Dean: I'll let u know where I end up, okay?**

After a moment's hesitation, he typed out another message.

**Dean: Hurry up…**

He felt a tiny bit pathetic adding that but desperate enough to send it anyway. He was trying to be okay, to be _normal_, but he just wasn't all the way there yet.

He hadn't a friggin' clue how to go about changing who he was… how to mold himself into a better person, but it was about damn time that he tried. _Clean up your mess_, right? That's what he'd said to Cas when the angel had made a colossal mistake.

Take your own damn advice, Winchester.

His phone dinged once as he was pulling onto the freeway and then again five minutes later. When he settled into a lane and the traffic seemed steady enough, he checked his phone.

**Sam: No. You shouldn't have. I'm still pissed… but call me when you get a chance. Let me know you're not dead. Cas is being weird.**

Dean was surprised to see the message from Sam but reading the words, seeing his brother's name on screen eased a weight from his chest that he hadn't known had been so heavy. He took a deep breath, feeling a bit better.

After switching lanes to pass the slowest gramma driver in the state, Dean looked back at his phone to check the other message.

**Cas: Patience. Are you familiar with the concept?**

Dean laughed, which was actually more of him blowing air out his nose while smiling. He loved it when the angel was snarky. Before he could throw the phone onto the seat beside him a second message from Cas popped up.

**Cas: I'll admit though I feel restlessly eager. Human travel is infuriatingly slow.**

Yes it was, Dean agreed silently. He had no damn clue what he planned to do when he and Cas were in the same room - that was a 'Level One: Freak-Out' kind of situation. But like anything else, he would force himself to figure it out. Besides... he had an unopened bottle of whiskey in the back so that would probably pave the way a little bit.

Then he had to consider how things might go when he saw Sam again... that encounter was going to be about as fun as a trip to the dentist.

Things were about to get weird and difficult, but taking the easy way out was no longer an option. Grow up and nut-up.

_And so begins the Dean Winchester journey to mental health…_ he thought to himself while reaching across to the glove compartment to grab a Metallica tape, flipping it the right way in his fingers and then pushed it into the tape-deck. The pattern of drums and bass and _awesomeness_ filled the Impala and he forced a smile and sang along until the smile was real.

_And the road becomes my bride  
I have stripped of all but pride  
So in her I do confide  
And she keeps me satisfied  
Gives me all I need_

_And with dust in throat I crave_  
_Only knowledge will I save_  
_To the game you stay a slave_

_Roamer, wanderer_  
_Nomad, vagabond_  
_Call me what you will_

_But I'll take my time anywhere_  
_Free to speak my mind anywhere_  
_And I'll redefine anywhere_

_Anywhere I roam_  
_Where I lay my head is home_

_(And the earth becomes my throne)_

_And the earth becomes my throne_  
_I adapt to the unknown_  
_Under wandering stars I've grown_  
_By myself but not alone_  
_I ask no one_

_And my ties are severed clean_  
_Less I have the more I gain_  
_Off the beaten path I reign_

_Roamer, wanderer_  
_Nomad, vagabond_  
_Call me what you will_

_But I'll take my time anywhere_  
_I'm free to speak my mind anywhere_  
_And I'll never mind anywhere_

_Anywhere I roam_  
_Where I lay my head is home_

_But I'll take my time anywhere_  
_I'm free to speak my mind_  
_And I'll take my find anywhere_

_Anywhere I roam_  
_Where I lay my head is home_  
_I say!_

_But I'll take my time anywhere_  
_I'm free to speak my mind anywhere_  
_And I'll redefine anywhere_

_Anywhere I roam_  
_Where I lay my head is home_

_Carved upon my stone_  
_My body lie, but still I roam,_  
_Yeah yeah!_

_Wherever I may roam_  
_Wherever I may roam_  
_Woah_

_Wherever I may roam_  
_Wherever I may roam_  
_Yeah!_

_Wherever I may wander, wander, wander_  
_Wherever I may roam_

_Yeah, yeah, wherever I may roam_

_Yeah, yeah, wherever i may roam_  
_Wherever I may roam_  
_Wherever I may roam_

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it. Reviews always welcome **


	5. Chapter 5: The Space Between Us

**A/N: Next chapter the warnings will change, please review summary of story just in case.**

* * *

It took less than five minutes to return to his normal vessel and he sat up in an abrupt motion causing the bed to creak from his sudden movement. He heard Sam running down the hall towards his room.

"Cas!" Sam yelled in panic, rounding the corner. "What the hell?! You were like… comatose! I didn't know what to do and I couldn't move your body –I couldn't do anything, so I just left you there and –"

"Sam… it's fine." He interrupted. "I just needed to see Dean." Castiel thought better than to tell Sam everything.

"It was simply faster this way. I apologize for not telling you what I was doing." He moved off the bed and out into the hallway, passing Sam and gesturing for the younger Winchester to follow.

"I need to leave for a while. We should heal you some more before I go." He spoke as they made their way into the library.

"Go where?" Sam asked running a hand through his chin-length hair, and then paused mid-way as if finally realising something, "Wait… what do you mean: 'faster this way'?" The younger Winchester asked suspiciously.

"As in, my grace; it can travel through space at a speed –"

"Yeah, Cas. I get that." Sam jumped in. "I mean… did you just go and possess some random guy?" Sam asked incredulously. The situation obviously reminded him of his most recent experience. The distaste was clear in his face.

"Not exactly…" Castiel responded, feeling uncomfortable and uncertain of how much to divulge to Sam. He considered Sam to be a good friend – family even – but what was going on with Dean was … delicate. The brothers' relationship was strained enough – Castiel didn't want to make it any worse.

"What the hell, Cas?" Sam asked, his voice rising. "What did you do?!" Castiel watched Sam's jaw clench in anger.

Castiel sighed in resignation, mildly irritated. "Sam… your brother was having a difficult time and he needed immediate assistance. So… I went to him."

"Went to him?" Sam repeated and Castiel fought the urge to grit his teeth.

"Yes."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Sam asked, his features a mixture of disbelief and shock.

"Well Sam, you are not exactly being very clear in what it is you are trying to ask me but I will tell you regardless. Yes. I possessed your brother." Sam's jaw flexed and his eyes hardened as he fumed, but Cas continued on, "As you are aware, permission is required and Dean said yes. He had no issue with my being there. With him in that way, I mean." Cas explained and felt a tingling in his abdomen from remembering that Dean hadn't been bothered by it at all – even going so far as to say it made him feel peaceful.

The thought triggered the desire to smile but Castiel suffocated it knowing that it would bother Sam.

"No way." Sam challenged, his mouth forming a hard line. "Dean would never agree to that. And… no offence… but _especially_ not with you." Sam said with certainty.

Castiel was overcome with hurt from Sam's words. His face fell and his stomach twisted. He had no idea why Sam was saying these things but it left a raw stinging sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He tried not to let it bother him, especially after everything that had happened with Dean, but the icy tone and surety of Sam's voice was impossible to ignore.

"Why would you say that?" He asked in a quiet, dejected voice.

"Cas…" The brother said softly, empathetically. "That's not what I mean. I'm sorry – that came out wrong."

Castiel felt a large hand on his back; warm and comforting and he turned to look at Sam – whose face showed regret.

"What I mean is…" Sam paused and looked around as if uncertain.

"What?" Cas asked absently, still replaying the earlier words in his head….'_especially not with you.'_

"I don't want to cause any problems or make things awkward…uhh.." He paused again.

"Shit. Cas... don't you know?" Sam asked, looking to him expectantly with a hint of sadness.

"No, Sam. I have _no_ idea why you think Dean would be so against me _specifically!"_ Cas replied in a clipped voice, growing more and more irritated by the insinuation that Dean disliked him so much.

"Cas… Dean _cares_ about you." Sam said hesitantly. "I mean… like…. _a lot_." He added, Cas glanced up at the tall brother, following his words with renewed interest.

"When I said what I said before… I meant that he just wouldn't want you of all people in his head… ya know? Because it's Dean, and he would be terrified of you finding out about how he really feels." Sam explained and waited patiently for a response while Cas absorbed the admission. The confirmation of what he'd already learned. He felt incredibly relieved.

Castiel smiled widely, knowingly.

"Oh." He responded with a grin. "I understand now. Yes, I suppose it would make sense to think that."

Castiel let his thoughts wander back to his time in Dean's body and mind, replaying every moment – the good ones anyhow.

He must have drifted out of the conversation because he was suddenly aware of Sam's hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly to get his attention.

"So… uhh… are you okay? I mean… I have to ask – what was it like in Dean's head?" Sam asked, his anger gone but curiosity peaked at the chance to hopefully understand the interworking's of his brother.

Castiel pressed his lips together, biting the insides of them. He didn't particularly like the direction of this conversation. It was not his place to fix their relationship. He would help in the ways he could, but he wasn't about to play a medium between their pathetic attempts to "get" each other.

"Sam –" He chided, rolling his eyes up to meet the younger brother.

"C'mon Cas – he's my brother. I have a right to know what's going on with him." Sam demanded.

"Then perhaps you should ask him." Castiel replied tersely.

"You know it doesn't work that way. When does he ever give a straight answer to anything?" Sam's question posed a convincing argument in his favour.

Cas was aware of Dean's limitations and inability to admit his feelings, especially as they related to his own discomfort and torments.

As he was about to respond with some explanation, his phone made a noise from his pants' pocket. Sam looked expectant, knowing only his brother would be contacting Castiel. Besides Sam and Dean, no one else knew Castiel's phone number.

**Dean: Can't wait to see u.. for real. Wanted u to know that.**

The smile that overtook him was forceful and bright. He couldn't hide it, or hinder it.

Sam noticed, of course.

"What did Dean write?" Sam asked trying to arch over to see the screen of the phone and Castiel pulled it away selfishly. He didn't care that it was rude but Dean's message was just for him.

"The message was not for you. Nor about you." Castiel may have been a little smug.

Sam frowned but it didn't last long as his own phone made itself known with a short harmony of pings. Sam raised his phone, and his frown cemented itself further as he read the message.

In an angry motion, the younger Winchester locked the screen and re-pocketed his phone without replying. Cas knew the message had been from Dean. He was proud of him for reaching out and annoyed that Sam was still being stubborn.

Well, back to the business at hand. He was eager to get on the road.

"As I was saying before, I will be leaving to meet up with Dean. We should heal you before I go." Castiel stood up from the seat he'd been in and moved a hand to touch Sam's forehead – who pointedly moved out of the way.

"Wait… so are you and Dean going to be like… hunting together?" Sam asked. Castiel sensed a note of jealously but didn't comment on it.

"I believe that is what we will do at some point but in all honesty, I believe right now Dean just needs company. Someone to make sure he doesn't become so consumed with self-hatred that he gets himself killed…" Cas voice trailed off as he thought of the image of Dean helpless, unconscious, and vulnerable in the alley.

"Your brother cannot be alone." Cas added with fervour.

"Yeah, that's kind of the problem, actually." Sam said bitterly, his posture stiff.

Castiel sighed and hung his head with impatience.

"I know your brother was selfish in what he did, but right now you are being petulant and stubborn. I know that you have lost your faith in him as your brother, that you feel you cannot trust him anymore to do what is right for you but you are punishing him for loving you. Maybe you need to ease up a bit and do something proactive to fix the relationship that has been damaged not just by Dean but by both of you." Castiel said and Sam's frame seemed to shrink from the weight of his words.

Castiel was becoming exceedingly impatient to leave but waited to properly finish his conversation with Sam.

"So… how are you getting there?" Sam asked, ignoring everything that he'd said.

Castiel huffed a breath but otherwise didn't comment. "I was hoping you might help me find a car, and if you wouldn't mind I would like to bring some weapons and other necessities." Dean, of course, had plenty in the way of an arsenal but it couldn't hurt to have some of his own.

Of all the things he wanted to be to Dean, useless was not one of them. Even though he was an angel now, or at least as much of one as he could be, history had proven that he shouldn't rely on his angel given abilities – they could be taken or muted at any moment and he needed to be prepared.

Sam nodded. "Yeah… definitely. I'll help you get stocked." He made a move to turn and walk away, but Cas grabbed his wrist, halting him.

"Let me heal you first." Cas gestured for Sam to sit. When he did, Cas grabbed a chair of his own and turned it to face Sam.

With their knees touching, Cas leaned forward and rested a hand on Sam's forehead; whose eyes drifted closed.

Despite Sam's attitude as of late, Castiel was still sympathetic to his feelings and he knew that, in secret, Sam looked forward to the healings. He found comfort in the relaxation it gave him, and if Castiel could provide him no other ease from his discomfort, he was happy to give this.

Light continued to emanate from his palm and the lines in Sam's face relaxed, his hands settled on his thighs, and a sigh escaped his lax mouth.

When he was done, Castiel lowered his hand, resting it on his own leg over the right pocket, feeling the hard lump that was his phone. He fingered the outlines of the phone… his only tangible connection to Dean for another several hours.

Sam slowly opened his eyes and said nothing but observed him with intense focus.

"Did something happen with you and Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

Cas avoided Sam's eyes in an effort to hide his reaction. It was useless – the evasiveness was as honest a reaction as he would have preferred to avoid.

Castiel said nothing and would say nothing. Not now. And not necessarily because he didn't think Sam should know, and a part of him wanted Sam to know. Castiel would have been happy to share his bourgeoning joy with someone he cared for but any ground that he and Dean had gained was on the smallest of footings and could easily crumble. Telling Sam would make it real in a sense and that was something Castiel was not ready to give into yet.

"Never mind. Not my business." Sam said finally and got up. "I'll start pulling some stuff together for you." And with that, the younger Winchester exited the library leaving Castiel to himself.

He promptly pulled the phone out of his pocket and replied to Dean. He wasn't sure if telling Dean that Sam was actively ignoring his message was a good move or not, but he didn't want to lie either.

Cas walked back to his room and pulled a bag from the closet to take some of the things with him that he'd collected. It wasn't much – a spare set of clothes (just in case), his fake FBI ID, a book that he'd been reading earlier in the week, and then moved on to Dean's room to grab a couple shirts and other clothing items.

It felt domestic to be packing for Dean, and even though Dean had not asked him to bring anything, he knew that Dean had left hastily when they'd parted and Castiel doubted he had much with him.

Cas' phone alerted him to a new message and the sound made him smile because he knew it was Dean. It was an odd feeling that such a small bit of noise could make him so content.

The noise repeated itself before Castiel could turn on the screen.

**Dean: I'll let u know where I end up, okay?**

**Dean: Hurry up…**

Castiel grinned at the eagerness and couldn't wait to reunite with this human that he'd become so attached to.

* * *

Sam had two black duffel's open and each were partially filled with guns, knives, ammo, salt containers, lighters, silver, some standard spell-work ingredients, and whatever else Sam thought was necessary.

He had been replaying the whole thing over and over in his mind. The conversation with Cas had been frustrating. He knew there was a lot Cas wasn't telling him. A part of him felt sad to be left out of it, and a larger part of him knew he should be worried about his brother.

He was bothered by the suspicion that maybe some major thing had just happened in his brother's life and he'd missed it.

Then it occurred to him… what if he _had_ died? What if Dean had never tricked him into saying yes to Gadreel? Would Dean's grief have driven him mad? What would have become of Dean and Castiel's relationship if Sam had been gone?

He'd known for a long time that Dean cared about Cas in the not-so-brotherly-love kind of way, not that he'd ever expected Dean to own up to it. Had his brother done just that? Was that why Cas was so happy to receive a simple text from Dean? The angel had lit up like a damn Christmas tree. It had been the most genuinely happy smile he'd ever seen on the guy.

There was one thing that Cas had said that resonated with a truth that Sam couldn't ignore. It had taken both him and his brother to fuck up their relationship and even though this most recent tragedy was on Dean – the accumulation of their problems had been fuelled by both of their actions over the years.

This realization was what forced Sam to take out his phone and send a message to his older brother.

He was desperate to ask Dean what had happened between him and Cas, but he knew Dean would lie anyways so there was no point. He settled for hinting that Cas was being obvious about it – one way or another.

Ten minutes later, he and Cas met back up in library, Cas with his small bag, and Sam dropping two heavy black ones on the ground.

"So you'll be off then?" Sam said sadly. He wished that he hadn't been such terrible company the entire time Cas had been here – maybe the angel wouldn't be looking so eager to take off if that had been the case.

Then again, Sam thought, maybe there was another reason entirely for that eagerness. Sam genuinely smiled and Castiel cocked his head curiously.

"Ya know.." Sam started, "I think you and Dean hunting together is a great idea." Sam said and it was the truth. He was happy that Dean wouldn't be alone.

Cas smiled in that innocent way of his, nodding his head a bit in agreement, but said nothing.

"How about we go find you some transportation?" Sam suggested and then picked up the bags and they made their way out of the bunker.

It hadn't taken too long and Sam found it funny that stealing cars had become so L'aissez Faire for them. They'd had to do it so many times – he probably should feel bad but he made sure to go for certain types. The cars he could tell criminals used, or previously stolen vehicles. Those types of cars were a lot less likely to be reported as well.

The car they ended up getting for Cas was an old Toyota Tercel – backseat had been littered with tiny, empty plastic baggies.

_Perfect_.

The car was packed and the driver door open with the car running, the two were left standing and staring at each other – the imminent goodbye hanging in the air.

"Come here." Sam said throwing his arms around Cas' frame. The angel remained still, and Sam sighed, "Cas – this is where you hug back." He reminded his friend.

"Oh... right." Castiel said as he rounded his arms around Sam's bigger body.

It was a little awkward but Castiel was family and Sam didn't know when he would see him next, so he squeezed a bit tighter and then released the hug, patting Cas on the back as he retreated from his personal space.

"Goodbye Sam." Cas eyed him in such a way that Sam felt like he was under a microscope and he just knew that Castiel was quietly reminding him of everything they'd spoken about.

Castiel drove off and Sam began walking back, deep in thought.

He spent the entire journey thinking about what his next move should be. As he made his way through the bunker door and became faced with a large empty space he came to the conclusion that there was no way he could just sit around here and do nothing.

He felt well enough to hunt and that's what he would do.

* * *

Castiel was an hour out when he felt the urge to call Dean. He tried to ignore it, knowing that he would be seeing him in a few hours, but after looking at the same repetitive landscape rolling by, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He placed the call out of as much desire for Dean as there was boredom from this terribly bleak drive.

"Hey." Dean greeted in a muffled voice.

"Are you eating?" Cas asked – he was sadly very familiar with Dean's voice and speech when his mouth was stuffed with food.

"Yeah! I found a bag in the back with some leftover muffins that I'd picked up the other day." Dean said and Cas could hear crackling in the background of a bag being opened or closed.

Castiel smiled – _this_ was the Dean he knew.

"So how long you been on the road?" Dean asked after loudly swallowing into the phone.

"An hour. You?"

"Three."

Silence stretched between them. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one either.

"I wish I could fly." Castiel said a moment later.

"I wish I could get your grace back and chop up Metatron into fish-food sized pieces." Dean said in return. Castiel shared that sentiment.

"I am on board with that plan." He agreed wholeheartedly.

"May I ask you something?" Cas voiced cautiously.

"I … don't really want to do this on the phone, Cas." Dean said growing tense. But there was no reason to be, his assumption was off. Castiel didn't want to talk about them either.

"No, not about that." Castiel clarified.

"Okaay.." Dean remained on edge, and it wasn't surprising considering what the last day and a half had been like.

"The memory I saw of your father –"

"—Cas, please, just drop it." Dean cut in.

"Dean?" Cas pressed but Dean remained silent for a long time. Finally a long sigh came across the line.

"He did the best he could. I'm not exactly volunteering him for dad-of-the-year or anything that's for sure – but he was damaged and…" Dean's voice trailed off.

Cas could hear him taking a deep breath, struggling for words. "… and maybe I can understand that." He said finally.

They were both quiet again.

It was Dean who broke the silence finally. "I'm gonna let you go before we say anything else, ok? I just need to keep driving… clear my head before I see you. I don't want to be … I don't know."

"I understand." Cas said quietly.

"You'll call when you get somewhere?" Cas asked.

"Of course. I meant what I said before… I… I'm … uhh… looking forward to seeing you." He replied brokenly, his tone a bit short. The nervousness was much more like the Dean that Castiel had been expecting in the dream.

"Me too." Cas said and hung up, knowing that Dean was having a hard time. The call only lasted about fifteen minutes, he still had six hours to go in the drive.

It was going to be a long night, he thought.

It wouldn't be long before he would find out just how very long this night would become. How deeply etched into his soul the memories of this night would sear themselves.

A scar would forever mar his being after this night…

* * *

**A/N: I have already started the next chapter... warnings will change, please review story summary.**

**Thanks for reading :) Reviews always welcome.**


	6. Chapter 6: Don't let me do this alone

**A/N: Please be aware of story summary warnings. This is a rough chapter. Lyrics from Call Me by Shinedown. Play it at the right time if you want.  
**

* * *

Four hours later, Dean finally pulled the car into a motel just outside of St. Louis, Illinois. It had taken him just about seven hours from where he'd been in Ohio. With Cas driving from Kansas, and only about two hours behind him, maybe an extra half hour since he was on the other side of St. Louis, it wouldn't be long now.

_Whew... just breath, man_. He thought as he exited the car, the door creaking as he slammed it shut. His hands trembled annoyingly as he shoved the car keys into his pocket.

He brought his things into the room and settled down on the bed. He had stopped to get some necessities on the way into town, mostly food and drinks but he had spent a good ten minutes staring at a spot down one particular aisle feeling like a god-damned teenager. He had been faced with condoms, lube, pregnancy tests, and little vibrating toys (shocked that those things were sold at drugstores now). The whole experience made his head want to explode. His body hummed with anxious energy.

Dean would extend his arm upwards to grab the bottle… and then drop it again. This happened several times and he felt like an idiot. What was that saying? '_If you're too immature to buy condoms you shouldn't be having sex?' _ That probably applied to lube as well… _Fuck_!

Dean had run a hand down his face and then shook his entire upper body to gear himself up, and then had reached out blindly and grabbed whatever bottle made its way into his grasp. He threw it in with the rest of his purchases and made his way to the cash. He had been fidgety the whole time, and the second he was safely in the driver's seat of the Impala, he released a long, shaky breath.

That's when it had really hit him – he was nervous. Totally, and completely, dry-mouthed, churning stomach kind of nervous.

Now he was sitting on the bed… the only bed in the room… waiting. He felt like he might throw-up. Not because the idea of Cas… and _him_…. in that context disgusted him, more that it fucking terrified him. He had never done anything like this before. And that statement didn't just apply to the fact that Cas was a friggin' dude, either. Dean had never crossed that boundary with a friend. Not that he'd had many close friends to provide him with the opportunity, but still.

He was nervous. He was scared. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run the fuck away as fast as he possibly could. The unopened whiskey was sitting on the table by the door and it was staring at him, glaring as best as a bottle can – _Open me! _It was practically shouting at him.

But he didn't. This was an impressive feat all on its own, Sam would be proud... Besides, Cas probably wouldn't be too pleased if he was three sheets to the wind by the time he got here – and Cas would probably mojo it away anyway and then he would have to answer the question of why he felt the need to get drunk in the first place.

As the urge to beat feet out the door grew strong he forced his mind to remember that Cas had always been there for him, even when the angel had screwed it up - his intentions had always been true. Dean remembered vividly how it had felt when Cas had taken control inside his head. Dean had never felt so content before. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to let go, to release the tension and the anxiety, the immense worry about "what it all meant" and just... look into his friends eyes and easily display every emotion that was surging through his veins.

Even towards the end of the dream, he'd felt a lot like his old self - arrogant and self-assured. That feeling was long gone. He tried to retrieve it, tried to cement himself into the feeling of the dream, of the look on Cas' face as he'd realized what Dean had propositioned. The memory triggered the hint of a smile and it breathed relief into him. Cas loved him. Cas wanted him...

In the end, the real question of the hour was not whether Cas was accepting of their new "relationship status" but whether Dean was. Could he handle it? Or would he ruin everything?

He half grunted, half sighed and dropped his back onto the bed, letting the lower half of his legs hang off the end.

Not five minutes later, he was bolting upright again. He wasn't sure he'd heard anything but he wasn't sure he hadn't, either. A gun was in his hands before he'd even realized he'd grabbed for it.

The door of the motel room opened effortlessly, three men walking through, one after the other. In the center of the trio, looking self-important and all-fucking righteous was Gadreel – in the original body that Dean had met him in.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck….._ Dean frantically repeated in his head.

_He hadn't thought to grab the fucking angel blade!?_ What was wrong with him?

"Dean." Gadreel said calmly, taking in Dean's fight-ready stance with mild interest.

"What the fuck do you want?" Dean demanded, continually shifting his eyes to watch the two back-up singers to Gadreels' center stage act.

"To be rid of a nuisance." Gadreel replied stoically.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked bravely. "You know… a lot of people have tried to boot me off the board, and some have even succeeded, but it never really stuck – so what makes you think you're gonna have any luck, douche-wad?" Dean said arrogantly, though he was anything but. He was desperately trying to figure out a way around this, he knew he could call Cas to him but that would just put the angel in danger and Dean was not about to get anyone else hurt because of him.

They were watching him close enough that he doubted he could cut himself and draw an angel banishing sigil without being noticed.

"That may be true, but the last couple of times you died, Heaven still needed you. Now… there is not much Heaven to speak of, and we certainly have no use for you anymore." Gadreel said as he stepped forward.

Dean backed away as Gadreel progressed, but there was nowhere else for him to go. One of the other angels appeared behind him and in a coordinated movement Gadreel threw the gun out of his hand – thing was useless anyway – and the other angel hooked his own arms around Dean's elbows and cranked them backwards in a painful movement, locking his body in place. He breathed hard against the rough manhandling.

"If I'm so useless why even bother killing me?" Dean asked, because _really?_ Gadreel and two lackeys? C'mon – clearly he didn't deserve that kind of royal treatment, he thought cockily, getting into the well-grooved familiarity of hunting and life or death situations.

"Because despite how insignificant you appear, you have a habit of causing problems and we are trying to rebuild Heaven – a _better_ Heaven – and we cannot have you getting in the way." The angel explained and unsheathed the sharp, cold-looking blade.

Dean's eyes widened at the threat. It dawned on him that this wasn't a fight or a conversation… this was an execution. His body became rigid and tense, struggling in the iron-like hold of the hulk-angel behind him.

Castiel had to be close now… Cas could heal him when they were gone… He just needed to pray; to tell Cas where he was.

_Cas... I need you… _

Gadreel approached swiftly and got right up in his face. "Do not bother. He cannot hear you." Gadreel's words cut off the prayer in his head. "He will not be able to bring you back either." The angel continued and Dean's breath caught in his throat.

Dean could see where this was going… the events of this night unfolding before him. It turned his blood cold, and his heart seized in his chest. A moment where not a single beat of blood pumped through his body, and then it suddenly returned with a vengeance. Hammering against his ribcage like the pistons in the engine of the Impala. He could feel the sweat beading on his skin, trickling down the center of his spine.

Gadreel gripped the blade tight in his hand and looked Dean in the eye. "There is one thing I think you should know before you die. Consider it a gift of sorts." The angel added thoughtfully, and continued. "You were _essential_ to shutting down Heaven though you do not even realize." Gadreel reflected as he dragged the angel blade down against Dean's ribs in an absent, yet threatening, motion.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked through his teeth. He was seething with anger and that anger was backed up by a fuck-load of fear, but he refused to let it show because that wasn't the Dean Winchester way.

"Did you never wonder about the ingredients of the spell used to shut down Heaven?" Gadreel focused on him, waiting for an answer. The angel was intrigued and enticed by this discussion, that much Dean could tell. This worried him.

"What about them?" Dean ground out on a growl; now pissed-off and impatient. He was getting tired of the song and dance.

"A Nephilim; a Cupid's bow; and an Angel's grace." He said and then narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"One of these things is not like the other." The angel intoned, a small smile spreading across his face. Dean had the urge to spit at him, but decided against it in an attempt to avoid getting shanked faster than was necessary.

Dean grimaced when the angel said nothing further. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Just get the fuck on with it already!"

"L_ove… _" The angel said quietly, a bit faraway, remembering something perhaps that had nothing to do with the here and now.

Dean stayed quiet and waited for the angel to continue. As much time as he could waste with this story, the better. He now had a feeling he knew where it was going anyway.

"It was not just any angel's grace that was required; it was the grace of an angel in love with a human…." Gadreel looked to Dean pointedly, making it clear as day who Gadreel thought Castiel must have been in love with.

_Well, jokes on you buddy – I already know that!_ Dean thought smugly.

At the lack of reaction, Gadreel smiled. "_Oh_… So you are aware, then?" His voice displaying only mild surprise.

"What are you going to do to Cas?" Dean asked, suddenly worried, realizing that the angel's plans for restoring Heaven probably had something to do with Cas, since he had been the key to taking it apart.

"That is not your concern." Gadreel replied, turning the blade around in his hands.

"The fuck it isn't!" Dean yelled, struggling with renewed vigor. The angel behind him twisted his arms with enough force that Dean was shocked neither arm popped out of the shoulder joint. He made a painful noise and forced his attention back to the angel in front of him. There was a rolling, menacing noise vibrating through the air and Dean realized the growl-like sounds were coming from him.

His rage and aggression were placidly ignored by the angel. It only infuriated and terrified Dean more.

"Enough time has been wasted here." Gadreel spoke to his two henchmen before settling the finality of his gaze on Dean.

He pulled back the angel blade…

"No, wait!" Dean cried out… his panic growing, his heart thundering in his chest.

"There is nothing more for you to say." The angel spoke with dry irritation.

"Please…" and he was begging. "At least let me say goodbye." This was his last ditch effort to save himself. All he had to do was tell Cas where he was… Cas would figure something out. Dean wasn't ready to go out like this. Not after everything… not without being able to fix things with his brother. After everything he'd overcome in his life – the battles he'd won, those he'd lost but somehow pulled through despite everything. He couldn't end this way. Not without knowing Sam would be okay. Not without Cas knowing everything.

Gadreel sighed and looked up to the ceiling, seeing somewhere beyond as he debated the request.

"Of course." The angel replied in a single breath. "I am not the monster you believe me to be." Dean scoffed at that.

"When we leave, your prayers will be heard. Do not try to tell him where you are, he will not hear it, nor will his grace be able to find you." Gadreel finished and renewed his fixed posture – angel blade firmly gripped and ready.

Dean breathed rough as panic overtook him, his eyes widening in alarm… _Oh God, this was it…_

The angel behind Dean pulled his body taught, arms wrenched backwards and essentially presented Gadreel with the wide target of Dean's chest and abdomen.

Dean's breathing became rampant and his heart was pounding so loud, so heavy, the beating so fast and insistent, as if the effort would be enough to save him.

The angel lunged forward in a single step, the angel blade piercing into his side. Dean cried out from the sudden pain. His vision went momentarily black.

It shocked him –the pain and sadness of it; his eyes rolled back, a strangled noise escaped his mouth. When he could focus again, the door was closing and he was on his knees swaying with the attempt to stay upright.

His abdomen was searing in blinding pain. Hot and cold at the same time. It burned and sharpened with each breath.

_Cas…. _He called desperately, moving a hand to clutch his side, feeling the blood seep between his fingers. It was warm, wet, and thick. There was so much of it… it was leaking and leaking.

_Fuck… It was everywhere._

_Cas…_ He prayed again, expecting the angel to respond, but of course he didn't. Couldn't.

_I fucked up… I don't know how, but Gadreel found… me. _

_I don't think I'm gonna make it… not this time… _ He thought through an immense wave of sadness.

The words sunk in and he collapsed onto the carpet, the blood was rapidly draining and leaving him light-headed and weak.

In some distant corner of the room he heard a radio come on – some pre-set alarm? Or maybe an angel-induced way of drowning out the sounds of him dying. Regardless, the soft piano notes filtered to him, weighing him down, pushing him further into the floor.

_I'm so sorry Cas… everything I've done… I did it all wrong. You and Sammy… it took me too long. _

_I.. ahh… _He winced as the pain seared from his side. The heat blistered through his bones and muscle, making him sweat.

_I should have said everything before... before now... to both of you…._

_God... there's not enough time…. Not enough words…. Not the right words. _Dean's jaw shook as he tried to hold back tears. His throat burned from the strain and the tightness around his chest was so strong that he could no longer take in a full breath.

He breathed shallow, shaky breaths, his hands turning white and he laced them together as tight as he could trying quell the tremors waving through his body as he fought to maintain vital functions.

The song in the background filtered through his ears, and the words echoed inside his body, tearing away at it in bits and pieces.

_Wrap me in a bolt of lightning,  
Send me on my way still smiling  
Maybe that's the way I should go,  
Straight into the mouth of the unknown_

The lyrics resonated like a hammer in his skull and he continued his prayer...

_I wish you were here… fuck… Cas. I don't want to be alone. _

The tears were streaming down his face now and his body shook from the pain and anguish, the sheer terror of never seeing Cas or his brother again. The blood that had seeped out of him was now a large puddle on the ground and he felt it cooling against him…

_I've said it so many times  
I would change my ways  
No, never mind  
God knows I've tried_

_Don't do anything stupid… Sam either. Please… _He pleaded desperately._ I need to know that the two of you will be okay… I need… I need that. _

Dean used every ounce of strength he had to curl his legs up to his chest, trying to stave off the cold he could feel as his body grew more and more sluggish. His hands were now mostly covered in blood… the red in stark contrast to the pasty white skin of his hands.

His face was wet with tears and cooling sweat and he was filled so completely with regret – it was consuming him at the same rate that his life was draining away. In the background the piano and the song played on.

_Call me a sinner, call me a saint  
Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same  
_

_Call me your favorite, call me the worst  
Tell me it's over, I don't want you to hurt  
_

_It's all that I can say. So, I'll be on my way_

Dean sobbed, choking a bit around the lump in his throat. He was aware of the whimper of noise that escaped his mouth – a desperate protest. The shaking and pain consuming every sensation was ebbing away and there was no measure of comfort in the recluse from pain… because he knew what it signalized.

He continued his prayer, his desperate words in a panic:_ You mean more to me than I... will ever get ...chance to tell you….._

_God s'cold ya know… I've never… gone….. s' slow bef..ore_

_So f…n cold_

_I finally put it all together,  
But nothing really lasts forever_

_I had to make a choice that was not mine,_  
_I had to say goodbye for the last time_

_I kept my whole life in suitcase,  
Never really stayed in one place  
_

_Maybe that's the way it should be,_

It was now taking immense effort to string words together. His body no longer shook. His muscles becoming lax, no longer holding the strength to fight what couldn't be fought.

_Tell… Sammy I love him…sorry …hurt him_

_Love you too… _

_God… Cas… don't want …. be … alone.._

_Not… ready t…go…_

_I'll always keep you inside, _

_You healed my heart and my life... _

_And you know I tried..._

Dean could feel his heartbeat slowing down and he no longer had the energy left to be scared. It was difficult to think... the darkness was closing in on him. His limbs were numb and heavy… very far away. Everything was getting so far away…

_Cas…. should…you_

_with…_

_me…_

The words of his silent prayer no longer made sense, a tumbled mixture of lament, of goodbye, of longing and need.

His eyes could no longer focus and the song drifted to a close; the last notes of the piano as quiet as slow raindrops on a roof.

_So, I'll be on my way..._

The world became silent, the motel room grew still. The laboured breath, quiet sobs, and pained noises ceased. The soul that had brightened the room was gone, leaving behind the body that had changed the world and caused an angel to fight against his brethren and creator… and, in the end, to fall…

* * *

Castiel came to as if dragged into consciousness by an unseen force. He didn't want it. He knew there was something that would come back, that would rip him apart. The shreds of his grace in tatters already.

There was something slick and crusty clouding his vision. Flashes of light against the dark seeped through the obstruction in his eyes and through his eyelids. Castiel willed it gone and he opened his eyes, coming face to face with the blinking of the vehicles four-way lights – lighting up the darkness in a repetitive pattern. The windshield was cracked into a million lines, though it magically held together.

His memory returned in a swift violent torrent of flashes, flooded with pain and grief.

_Dean! OH God… no… no…_

Castiel doubled forward as his stomach heaved and he burned. Heat ripped through him from the force of his anger and despair. His body began to glow with white hot energy and he knew he could let it consume him. He could set this vehicle on fire with him inside it.

"H_OW _C_OULD YOU_?!" He thundered with a voice that echoed in a double timbre of his vessel's voice and his own.

He would rip God apart. His Father, his creator was going to meet his end for this travesty. The most perfect and incredible soul to ever walk this earth, and just when Castiel had been given the opportunity to try and make that man whole – the unthinkable had happened.

Castiel remembered every second – every torturous breath that had Dean released in shallow, broken patterns. Castiel had felt Dean's body burn with the pain only to turn cool and cold in minutes. Castiel couldn't stop his brain as it replayed every sensation.

He was distantly aware that there were tears streaming down his face and he knew it was a good thing he didn't need air because there was no more breath to be had.

When Dean's voice had stretched across the geography of the state to reach his mind, it had felt as though a two-ton force had slammed against his ribcage; ripping and tearing as it collided.

Castiel had repeatedly tried to escape his vessel and fly to Dean with lightening fast speed, but an angelic force kept him trapped. Helpless and hopeless, he had screamed in his struggle. His foot on the pedal that had been propelling the car forward had bottomed out as he sped.

He didn't even know where Dean was. His powers were limited and confined and he knew it had been on purpose. Gadreel and Metatron… he remembered, and his grace glowed with renewed force from his sheer and absolute hatred. The trees and bushes surrounding the car alit with flame, and the heat bent the air around him making it twisted and blurry.

When Castiel had realized that he couldn't get to Dean with his grace he had fumbled in panic to call Sam.

"Sam!" He yelled, distraught, when he had heard the call connect, not waiting for Sam's greeting. There wasn't time.

"Cas – What is it?!" Sam demanded, fully alert. Worry evident in his tone.

"You can find Dean with his phone right? _FIND HIM!_" Cas had practically screamed, gripping the steering wheel one-handed; urging the car to go faster. Even though he'd had no idea where he was headed.

"What's wrong, Cas? What happened?" Sam voice was now permeated with fear. It sounded like acid dripping across the phone line.

"There's no time! Find him!" Castiel shouted in an angry, violent voice. He then heard loud clacking of keys, frantic fingers flying across a keyboard. A loud slam of a fist coming down on a table shot through the phone.

"I can't…" Sam breathed in fear. "Cas… it's not showing up!"

"Tell me—" Sam started but Cas threw the phone into the backseat. He was lost now. Dean was lost to him. So many ways that he could have gotten to him – and every single one was taken from him.

Castiel had listened to every word Dean had said to him, even distantly hearing the harmony of a sad song in the background. When Dean's words morphed into broken thoughts and muffled feelings, Castiel's fear and grief and anger had exploded the windshield.

He felt it as he careened off the road, no longer holding the wheel, his eyes blank and unseeing: the last breath…. the final decisive beat of Dean's heart.

And then everything had gone black.

He realized that he must have crashed the car. Castiel could feel his vessel's body was broken and bleeding in many places, but he did not care.

His hands were in tight fists, the air surrounding him swirled violently on its own current. The temperature in the car dropped several degrees while the burning fire that surrounded the car became a beast of its own, the flames licking up the trees – devouring them and Castiel envied their fate.

He had never felt such sorrow, such pain and anger. Even when knowing he would die, there had been a calmness and peace in many ways. Even when Dean had died before, he knew that Dean would be back. But the world was different now. Heaven was broken. Hell was under a regime change.

There was no going back from this night. Nothing would be the same again. And though Castiel had battled with the idea of suicide once before, it was never more truly appealing. The only thing that stayed his hand was the thought that Dean's dying words had been that he and Sam be okay. Of all the promises he had made to Dean, both spoken and silent, this was one he could not ignore.

Castiel wasn't sure his grace would be able to survive the anguish, but for Dean he would try. His body, saturated with light, pieced itself back together at his will.

The fire around the car blazed in blue heat, growing and surging in a reflection of his emotions.

He exited the car purposefully and walked around on shaky legs to the trunk. He must find Dean's ….

Castiel paused, caught on the word. He couldn't say it… not even in his head. His hand hovered over the trunk latch, curling into a tight grip at nothing and he roared in his angel voice; the sharp ear-piercing sound being heard miles away.

Everything living within the radius of his distress felt his pain. Dean had told him not to do anything stupid but it wasn't stupid if it was well planned. He would destroy Gadreel and Metatron. The persona of himself when he had temporarily been God would be nothing compared to the wrath that he would bring to the angels who had taken Dean from him, and from Sam – he realized. Sam still didn't know. Castiel's heart clenched tight and he could not tell the younger Winchester that his brother was dead… not yet.

He waved a hand over the trunk and it popped open at his command. He rounded up the ingredients he needed. His hands steady with purpose.

In less than five minutes, he was dropping a lit match into a bowl.

* * *

Crowley was discussing strategy with one of his minions when he felt it. The tell-tale constricting pressure around his body, collapsing him in order to forcefully relocate him… likely into a devil's trap, he thought dryly.

Winchester's, no doubt, he thought as he blinked from one place to the next.

Crowley found himself standing in a devil's trap burned into the ground in the middle of a dense forest. A blazing fire was roaring in the distance – so close he felt the heat on his skin.

Standing several feet away, backlit by the angry flames was Castiel. The menace surrounded him in a haze of warping energy. The angel's chest was heaving up and down in powerful surges, his head tilted back in a dominate display as he looked down at Crowley.

There had been times where Castiel had displayed such power that Crowley wouldn't deny made his balls go tight from the sight of it. The sight of the angel suffused with light, his black wings shadowed behind him in a frightening display.

The sight of the angel now was, by far, the most terrifying. Crowley could see the blackness through the light. The darkness that now tainted the angel inside. And that was when Crowley knew…

"I'm sorry." Crowley found himself saying. He could later blame the words on fear of the angel, but deep down he knew it was sincere.

"Can you find his…. him? Can you find him?" Castiel choked out in a hard voice. The white energy pulsed beneath his skin. Crowley could almost feel the power of it, singeing his demonic form.

"Yes… yes I'll find him." Crowley replied, his face contorted into the unfamiliar pattern of empathy.

"Who was it?" Crowley demanded, suddenly angry and not sure why. Why did he care if the eldest Winchester was dead? Why should it bother him to see the angel so broken? He had no answers for his shocking reaction.

"Gadreel." The angel spat, the fire behind him visibly growing with the words.

Castiel opened his mouth to say more when his features softened and stilled – a sharp contrast to the anger previously displayed. His head quirked to the side as if surprised by whatever he suddenly felt.

Before his very eyes, the angel disappeared. Crowley angled his head, his eyes fixed on the now vacant spot where the angel had been.

"What the hell was that?!" He said loudly into the open air. Of course, he'd seen angel's fly off before, but he bloody hell had never seen _that_ before. Castiel had phased out… slowly becoming transparent until there was nothing left. Like a ghost in some ways. It was beyond strange.

And stranger still, the devil's trap suddenly disappeared. It didn't break, it just vanished. Green, fresh grass, alive, where there had once been seared earth.

The air was cold again, the fire in the distance snuffed out by someone or something.

Crowley transported himself back to where he'd been as fast as he could. Two of his right-hand demons were waiting.

"Winchesters, sir?" They asked in regards to his sudden disappearance. He cringed from the plurality of the question – hating the sensation it gave him.

"I need you to do something for me, but you are to follow strict orders! If you tell another living thing what I am asking you to do, I will slice you apart with my blunt fingernails!" He yelled at the lowly demons, who cowered before him.

"Yes, sir. What would you have us do?" They asked – good dogs that they were.

"Find Dean Winchester. His body – find his body." He amended as he spoke, noting the surprise on their faces.

"Sir?" They asked together, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. Crowley ground his teeth in annoyance.

"Just find the Winchester's body, and protect it. If you touch him before I get there…. Well I think we both know how that will end." He threatened.

The demons disappeared with their task and he stood there, unmoving and unfeeling for several moments. The image of the angel was seared into his retina's. He had seen torture a million times, in many different forms, but the image of Castiel that night held the pain of a thousand cuts and beatings.

Now the angel was gone – who knew where? And that left one loose end. Crowley's palms felt sweaty, and he wiped them annoyingly on his expensive pants.

He reorganized himself to the last place he remembered from when Dean and Cas had taken him away from their secret hideaway.

He withdrew his phone and called Sam. He was thankful that he had stolen all of their numbers some time ago. It did come in handy.

Sam answered the phone before the first ring ended. "Cas?!" His voice ripped through line in desperation.

"Not exactly." Crowley responded.

"What did you do!?" Sam yelled.

"I did not do anything. I need to see you. Can you meet me? Or?" Crowley fumbled. He wasn't sure why he was taking it upon himself to do this task. He couldn't make sense of it. He argued with himself that he would simply need Sam's help in case retrieving the older Winchester's body proved difficult. He could even argue that _said_ body belonged in his brother's care and that was the reason for embarking on this depressing task, but none of those reasons carried much weight. He may the King of Hell, but he was truthful to himself for the most part. In the depths of his... well not his soul, of course, but somewhere - he knew why he was doing this. He hated himself for it, felt shameful as a demon for giving even one fuck about those two meddling idiots, but in the end, they had grown on him like a scab - something he enjoyed picking at.

This tiny part of him sort of liked the Winchester's. They were a constant in this world, something he could live with. And if they were to be taken out by anyone – it should have at least been him.

"Sam?" Crowley voiced, realizing significant time had passed. But then for the second time that night, gravity pressed around him.

He appeared in the dungeon that had been his captivity for months. Sam stood before him, chin-length hair a disaster.

"What happened?!" Sam demanded, arms strained at his sides, knuckles white in tight fists, the rest of his hands sharply red.

"Sam…" Crowley began in a low voice. He could feel the softness in it but did nothing to hide it.

"Why do you keep calling me Sam? You never call me that." The younger brother watched him in clear skepticism.

Crowley breathed slow, stealing himself for the conversation that could likely end in his death. Why had he decided to do this? He now wondered… Sam would probably kill him.

"Get rid of the trap." Crowley requested, gesturing down to the paint, and coming to his senses. He bloody well wasn't going to let himself be killed for something he didn't do.

Sam flexed his jaw and stalked forward, bending down to scratch the paint with a knife. The tight, itchy feeling of constriction abased.

"Tell me." Sam eyes were wild as he spoke.

"Sam… I'm sorry." He began, watching as Sam flinched from the words. "I didn't do it. Gadreel…" His words ceased as Sam began rambling in protest.

"Noo..nonono... no… don't say it…" His tall form swayed. "Please… no… don't…. He can't...?" Crowley said nothing, but watched in silence as Sam dropped to his knees and doubled over, his fingers digging against the concrete floor.

The King of Hell felt an echo of pain as Sam choked and then threw up the contents of his stomach all over the cold floor. Crowley approached slowly to the younger brother, who continued gagging and choking as he let loose another fit of sickness. The demon placed a hand on the hunter's shoulder in comfort, surprising them both.

Sam turned to him in a craze, his eyes wild with fury. He wiped his mouth and stood up off the ground. "Take me to him!" He demanded, towering over the demon.

"As you wish." Crowley replied quietly.

He reappeared with Sam to the location his minions had telepathically provided him with. They were standing at the edge of a dark parking lot, facing a seemingly quiet motel. One particular room had several demons standing guard.

But they were not his.

"Bollocks." Crowley said, glancing around for his own backup – finding none.

"What?" Sam asked in a dead voice.

"I think my demons are dead." Crowley explained. "The ones standing by the door do not work for me. My guess… Abaddon."

Sam glared down at him, pulling the demon blade from behind him. Sam started trudging towards the motel door. Crowley shot an arm out, grabbing the Winchester by the elbow.

"You can't!" He warned. "That won't kill her and you know it. We need back up." Crowley reasoned.

"Well, where's Cas?" Sam asked. His body was visibly shaking.

"I… I don't know." He admitted. "He sort of… vanished." He explained, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean – 'he vanished'?" Sam crowded into him, hard eyes peering down.

"I mean… he disappeared in a way I've never seen anything disappear before. He just drifted away." Sam curled his lips in confusion and let out a swoosh of breath before resuming his trajectory towards the motel.

"You can't!" Crowley called after him.

"Yes. I can." Sam's voice filtered back to him in tight clips of dark sound. He watched as the older brother approached the door and quickly, efficiently discarded of the three demons on guard. There was hardly any effort behind the attack and it was a really quite impressive, thought Crowley.

It was also stupid, what the Moose was doing, but Crowley wasn't about to join him on the suicide mission.

* * *

**A/N: Working on the next chapter now.**


	7. Chapter 7: Through Heaven and Hell

**A/N: A short chapter, but I already have the next written. Just felt that the needed to be separated.**

* * *

Abaddon was sitting in her personal corner of Hell debating and strategizing her next moves to overtake Crowley. She was absolutely disgusted with the state of Hell, not to mention the world. When had everything become so tempered? She thought with tired frustration.

Crowley was weak and sympathetic. The impotent _King_ chose order over chaos and it sickened her. He had no desire for evil like she did; like a demon should. Every single infliction of pain she caused shot bolts of pleasure straight through her veins. This was why she would be the one to rise above. Every lowly demon would become her dog, and she would see to it that every single human quivered at the very mention of her name.

It was unacceptable that the majority of the population had no knowledge of Hell. Seriously? What was _that_ about? How could she terrify all those pretty little souls into giving themselves up to her if they had no idea hell, or demons, even existed?

_Of course_, there were the ineffectual deals that Crowley was so proud of. Integrity, she scoffed, curling her lips into a snarl. Hell did not have integrity – Hell was meant to be torture, pain, ruin, and humiliation – and she would ensure it would truly become the ultimate epitome of evil that would roar up to consume humanity. And she would savour it. _Fuck… she would _bathe_ in it,_ Abaddon thought with a grin.

Even Lucifer – the self-proclaimed Devil – had been so incredibly weak; letting a simple human overtake his control. _How pathetic!_ His angelic upbringing had softened him. Abaddon let out a sly smile and a small pleasured purr as she took in the torture around her – _she_ would become the new Devil.

As she plotted and writhed with pleasure from the screams around her, she was suddenly interrupted by one of her soldiers throwing themselves into her space, panting for breath and fuming with urgency.

"What is it, now?" She asked, annoyed with the interruption.

"The angel…." The demon said out of breath. "The one they call Gadreel, he has been spotted." He spewed hastily.

"What does it matter to me? I am not coming for the angels… Not yet." She explained, getting more and more irritated with the interruption.

"The angel was spotted at a motel mere feet away from that gas-guzzler the Winchester's drive." He explained, eyes bright and excited to be delivering this candy-gram piece of news.

"Really?!" Abaddon crooned with interest. " Where?" She demanded with a growing smile. The leverage she had been looking for had just dropped into her lap – how convenient, she thought.

In very short order she appeared at the motel, three demons at her side and stood before the grouping of angels. Her and Gadreel facing off at the center of the clashing of dark and light.

"Remove yourself from my sight, filth." Gadreel spat in her direction. She smiled in response. So sweet with the compliments this one, she thought.

At some unseen trigger, her demons leapt into action and attacked the angels, leaving her and Gadreel faced-off against each other. Just the one she wanted it.

He unsheathed a bloody angel blade, and she could smell the Winchester on it. "Oh… and what fun business have we been up to?" She said, curving up a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in interest, while she slid out her own angel blade. A lady has got to have her tools at the ready.

"Where did you get that?" The angel asked. He was clearly taken off guard, eyes widening as he realized this fight wouldn't be as easy as he'd expected. She smirked – everyone always underestimated her. That was how she had risen so fast against Crowley, no one expected her cunning, her consuming level of evil. She would win because she had no boundaries – she had no morals.

"I have my ways." She replied vaguely, turning the blade around in her palm with the flick of her manicured fingers.

Gadreel pummeled forward, knocking her off balance, but not off her feet. The angel lunged a second time to try and stab her, but she was quick and spun on her heel away from his reaching arm. Abaddon rounded her arm in a wide arc in the process of her pivot and she speared the blade towards his position, while simultaneously throwing her leg out in a swift curve. She missed with the blade by mere inches but her leg hadn't missed its target. She managed to knocked him off balance, and she took the open advantaged and surged down throwing him to his knees.

Abaddon wasted no time in using her power to rip the blade from his hand and delighted in the sound of it scattering somewhere out of reach. The silence around her told her how the rest of the fight had gone. Dead and bloody – just the way she liked it.

She brought the blade to the angel's throat. "You are weak. All of you." She curled her lip in hatred at the self-righteous fuck.

"It may not be me, but someone will strike you down. Rest assured." The angel stated calmly, meeting her eyes hard and firm – even in the face of death. She laughed darkly. Those who considered bravery a form of strength were delusional. Whether or not a thing smiled in the face of death did not mean she wouldn't still enjoy ripping them to shreds. They would die bloody whether there was a fucking smile on their face or not.

"They may try, but I guarantee they will lose. I breathe evil and pain, nothing can touch me." She pierced through his skin slowly and painfully, riding out his torment before death. She raked it in, consumed every ounce of his suffering. It surged through her, making her stronger.

"You are _nothing_." He replied in a broken gasp of pain, the angelic burst of light beginning to grow before her eyes.

"I. Am. The. New. Devil." She said in a low, guttural, dark voice as she drove the blade through the angel as deep as it could go, feeling the edge of her fist at the hilt meeting his flesh and she relished in the agony she caused. She slammed her eyes shut as the light reached its climax and erupted out of him.

When the light ceased, she sharply threw his body to the ground, taking both blades with her and walked to the motel room where she knew she would claim her prize.

/\

There was bright whiteness everywhere. It stretched into every direction his eyes could see. Dean knew he was in Heaven. Though, he'd expected something entirely different. Having been here before, he presumed that Ash would have been waiting for him with a cold one. Or several... fuck he could use an unlimited amount of alcohol right now. Maybe some drugs too…

Instead, it was endless white. Crisp, stark white and yet still felt soft to the eyes. There was no perception of depth. The space around him could extend the equivalent of a few feet, or it could be infinite. There was no way to tell. There was no air, no breeze, no smells, nothing. Endless lack of anything. And he really hoped this wasn't where he was spending eternity.

Dean looked around, going in circles and his anger and stress heaved inside of him. _How could it have ended this way?_ He thought as he ran his hand over his mouth and jaw. He was growing more and more displeased with his surroundings with each passing thought but there was nothing he could about it.

_Fuck –_ he was going to lose his mind!

_What the fuck was this?_ He wondered and straight out of nothing, two beat-up park benches appeared side by side. His heart would have stopped if it had been beating. Instead, the stillness continued.

Dean remembered them, of course. From a long, long time ago. From the very first moment he had begun to see Cas as a friend, as someone he could trust. It had been after Sam Hain had been released and subsequently killed by Sam using his demonic… _talents._

Dean sat down at the end of the one – the same place he'd sat before. He carefully and intently watched the other bench… waiting… waiting… His eyeballs strained with the intensity of his focus.

_He had to be coming right? _Dean's desperation and hope filled him up to a breaking point and as time passed and no one appeared beside him, he hung his head. It was like a kick to the stomach.

Had he really done such terrible things to deserve this? Life had been _so_ damn cruel to him, and now death was sharing in that joy.

"That was not my intention," said a familiar voice from beside him. But not the voice Dean had wanted to hear.

"Chuck?!" Dean yelped in a shocked voice as he took in the form beside him. "Well, shit. I guess you are dead." Dean remarked as he huffed a breath.

"Not exactly." Chuck replied. Dean turned to look at him – to _really_ look at him. There was something… he didn't know what. Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was a subtle glow about the once prophet. Something luminescent contained under the surface and yet so entirely different from the way Cas would glow in the process of killing a demon or using his healing powers. It was there as a feeling, as a sensation against his skin as opposed to something he could take in with his sight.

"Chuck?" The thought that circled around his brain was just on the tip of his tongue... but no. _It couldn't be._ He eyed the young man with palpable suspicion. His body had begun to lean forward in close observation.

"It seemed a very unassuming name." The man Dean no longer recognized replied. Dean couldn't speak; he just stared – wide-eyed at the _thing_ before him. Thing with a fucking capital "T". There were no words for the level of surprise, and the growing hatred that followed swiftly on the heels of this plot-twist.

"I know what you think of me." God remarked to him as he focused his eyes somewhere distant.

Dean snapped, "You don't know the fucking half of it!" He snarled viciously, turning around, ready and willing to choke God to death, except his arms ceased to move, trapped there against his sides.

"What are you doing?!" Dean fumed, frozen in place.

"You know you cannot kill me, I am simply saving you the failed attempt." God sighed. "Please just listen to me. Please… I beg this of you. Be assured, I never do this. Me, being here, seeing you – it is an unheard of situation. I implore you to understand the magnitude of this conversation."

Dean could feel the red, hot hatred towards this 'God' at the injustice of everything that had happened in this world, in his life, and his consequent pathetic excuse for a death. Dean found, however, that he could not speak. He was forced to listen to whatever God had to say. With his words trapped in his throat, he threw every ounce of hatred and fury into his green stare. God had the balls to look remorseful at the sight of it, and that only spurred on his anger.

"I am not the powerful deity you believe me to be." God began in Chuck's voice, and yet so very different from Chuck's personality. How could they have been the same person? Dean wondered. How could he have stood there when they were fighting the apocalypse and done hardly anything to help? _Fuck – _God had stood by and watched Cas explode beside him…. It was sickening.

"For many millennia, I could influence and map the trajectory and patterns of this changing world. Shaping the animals and living beings into what I thought they should be. What they deeply wanted to be. Free will was to be had, and I helped provide that. I nurtured the burgeoning communities and humanity in ever complex and intricate ways to help them achieve the things they were destined to achieve." He paused, sucking in a deep breath. For what purpose, Dean had no idea. There was no air here, and he highly doubted the asshole needed oxygen anyway.

"But then the world changed…" He continued, his voice darkening to a grave tone. "Faith dwindled; hope was snuffed down to a low flame. Everything that was once great about this world became greedy and demented."

"You see… I am not all-powerful. I am only as powerful as the faith that is given to me. Everything crumbled before my very eyes, and I cracked. I had been around so long; the despair of my creations broke something inside of me and I…." He chuckled darkly then, "I suppose you could say… I went on sabbatical." He remarked in a dry, humourless, tone.

"I adopted this form, gave it a name and a purpose. As much as I wanted to remain indifferent, I found myself writing as I did so long ago – finding comfort in it. I watched as the events unfolded. Of how vehemently you and Sam fought to save this dying world. How, in the end, you changed everything. My passion renewed and I continued writing with great fervour."

"When at last the apocalypse was before us, and you, again, succeeded. I believed the world no longer needed me. I was the unbidden parent holding on too tight. I needed to finally let go and let my creations and my children, grow into their own light."

"In my desire to let you flourish, I condemned you to an unhinged world and for that I am deeply sorry. Unfortunately, I no longer hold much power – but I am not without the ability to at least make some amends." God turned to Dean and observed him with such paternal affection, Dean almost collapsed from the weight of it. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His hatred withered away, no matter how desperately he tried to cling to its familiarity.

"You and your brother are some of my very favourites." He commented affectionately. It left Dean feeling loved and cared for and he had no way to fight against the warmth of the feeling. He tried to reason his way back into his fortitude of anger but it was, simply, gone. Vanished.

"And for that, I would give you choice – should you want it." Chuck… or God… held his eyes and waited. Dean finally regained control of his voice but was stumped with what to say.

"Ch-choice?" He repeated finally, the rough sound of his own voice startling him. It sounded too deep, too harsh for this place.

"Yes. You have been through enough, and though I would prefer you to be at peace – I know that what you desire most is autonomy."

Dean waited patiently.

"I will give you three choices: to remain dead and in Heaven (I will ensure you are with your family and friends that have also passed), or you may return to the world below and continue life in whatever manner you see fit, or – and for this I blame my writers' mind on -" – God said with a smile – "I can send your soul, along with Sam's and Castiel's, to another dimension – one you've been to before." God smiled very Chuck-like.

"Another dimension?" Dean asked in total confusion.

"Yes, you were actors?" Chuck grinned at him.

"You're joking?" Dean knitted his brows in distress. "You're saying you could send us to another world, where we would be actors? What would happen to those guys then?" The disbelief and mild discomfort was a filter over his words.

"You would become them completely, your souls would merge as one, but you would not contain any of your memories of this life. It is all I can do." God explained and Dean was perplexed and intrigued but immediately knew it wouldn't feel right. He immediately compared it to wearing another dude's underwear. Besides, the glam life wasn't for him.

His mind spun around a carousel of competing thoughts. A section of his brain was yelling at him to give up and remain in Heaven where he could spend eternity with his parents and all the other's he had cared so much for and lost.

But other, nagging, parts of his brain screamed at him to go back to his brother, to Cas. _Where he belonged?_ He offered to himself the concept and struggled with his selfishness. Would they be better off without him? Would he even ever see Cas again if he stayed? Where did angels go when they died? Dean was opening his mouth to ask when Chuck/God interrupted.

"I will give you some time." Chuck said softly. "I have other business to attend to."

Dean nodded absently, lost in this train wreck that he'd found himself in. He watched as God faded away into nothing. His focus settled on the empty bench that remained.

It left Dean feeling hollow; a pit in the cavity of his chest that the entirety of Heaven wouldn't be able to fill.

/\

Castiel reappeared in Heaven. He knew without a doubt that that was where he was. Unlike Dean, who remained in a distant corner of Heaven himself, Castiel knew the very second he saw Chuck that it was not Chuck.

Cas torpedoed himself across the short distance between their forms and collided with his creator in a violent fury.

"_HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!" _He bellowed into the void, throwing fists again, and again, at the unwavering steady form of God.

He released his rage in a rhythm of fists with intermittent waves of tossing Chuck's form around. In the back of Castiel's mind he was aware he was causing no damage. God was allowing it, for whatever reason. Perhaps he knew. Yes, he did, Castiel realized. The sorrow Castiel could sense, smelling like acrid rain, was what allowed these actions.

It was a seemingly long time before Castiel ceased and swayed from the aftermath, arms falling to his sides in defeat.

God watched him through Chuck's compassionate, brown eyes, observing his child with sincere empathy.

"Bring him back." Castiel demanded. "You owe me that." He growled in a deep voice.

"I have done much for you Castiel." God told him, and his multiple resurrections were proof of this but he was too stubborn to let it soften his hatred. He was grieving and nothing could dispel that feeling. Castiel allowed it to morph into hatred, hating the reaction, but faced with such a loss he found himself incapable of reasonable conduct and thought.

"Whether or not Dean returns, is his choice – not yours." His Father explained gently.

"Then why am I here?" Castiel asked. If God could not give him Dean or retribution against those who had taken him – then what was the point?

"I can give you the means to fix what is broken." God replied as he began to pace back and forth. Castiel watched and tilted his head in understanding.

"You mean Heaven?" He suggested.

"Heaven, and …" God turned and paused, reconsidering his words.

"Do you know why you were the one to save Dean Winchester in Hell?" God asked him, there was some realization that Castiel was about to become privy to, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. He felt the resurgence of pain flare in depth of his being.

"No?" Castiel narrowed his eyes and waited.

"Because it _had_ to be you. Because it would _always_ have been you. You know, as every angel knows, that I created each and every one of you with purpose."

"Before things… got away from me, there were truths that existed no matter what changes might have impacted the future. There was a reason that you were so readily willing to go against Heaven after you met Dean."

Castiel felt something grow inside of him… hope maybe? Sadness?

"You would always find each other." God said softly. "You are what holds him together. I commanded you to save him and it was the first time in many long years that I had given such a direct order – but I knew. I knew that it had to be you to piece him back together. You are the other half of him. You are his light just as he is your compass."

God smiled warmly, looking very much like Chuck with the gesture.

"I cannot tell you what Dean will choose to do. I have my suspicions, but he has surprised me in the past." God reflected with a smirk and the two of them could certainly share that opinion.

"How do I fix Heaven?" Castiel asked finally, walking to stand before his Creator. His anger was held in check as he gripped onto the hope that he might see Dean again.

Chuck laughed then, surprising the angel. Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "What about this devastation that you have created do you find so amusing?" He asked in a cold voice.

"I have provided hints over time – perhaps a bit of Chuck's personality traits have rubbed off on me." God observed with amusement.

"Love lifts us up where we belong." Chuck sang, raising his arms in triumph with a great smile. Cas arched an eyebrow at the statement, "I'm sorry? I don't understand." The angel admitted, clueless.

"I will explain everything." God said finally, his features and voice returning to a more sober demeanour.

"First things first… I have something you will need." God explained.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8: Resurrection

**A/N: ****Warning****: Torture, implied non/con rape. As much as I didn't want to include this, I see Abaddon as the ultimate evil in this story, and the true nature of demons would be horrifying and would likely use every conceivable horrible method to take someone apart. I do not actually depict this scene though. Also, this is turning into a very long dark fic, but I have the ending already in my mind and I promise it will be worth it. I foresee this fic reaching around 17 chapters or so in total, with probably an epilogue to close it off.  
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Sam had barged through the door to find himself facing Dean's back. It threw him on a bender of a mind-fuck and even though he should've known better, he couldn't temper the hope.

"Dean?" He choked out, his arm stretching out to touch.

Dean turned around, smiling wickedly, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry – you're a bit late to the show." Came the awful words out of Dean's mouth.

"Abaddon…" Sam breathed in grief-stricken voice.

"You got that right, baby." She replied from within Dean, and it made Sam nauseous. "So nice of the angels to leave this package for me." She purred, running Dean's own hands down his chest and stomach.

Sam struggled not to collapse… "Please… give him back to me." He pleaded desperately. His anger was overridden by his pain, and seeing his brother this way was something he wasn't prepared for.

"I don't think so." She replied sweetly in Dean's voice, and it was all sorts of wrong.

Sam lunged forward, demon-blade held tightly in his hand and ready to stab into his brother's body as many times as it would take to kill that hateful bitch. In mid-stride, a force threw him across the room. His back slammed painfully into the drywall that knocked the wind out of him.

Before Sam could regain a breath, he dropped the ground, knocking his head sharply off the nightstand on the way down.

There were three more demons in the room when he could focus his sight again. His head pounded with the sharp pain from his fall, and his spine ached from the impact but he dragged his body up off the floor, palm gripping the knife that he had somehow managed to hold onto.

"Get out of him!" Sam shouted and moved forwards again. The adrenaline served as a great pain-killer.

He was within a foot of the demon when the three others surrounded him, one took his knife and then all three of them crowded into him, holding him still. Sam struggled and fought but knew with Abaddon's power and their demonic strength, he wouldn't get anywhere.

He could feel the hot tears in his eyes as he watched Abaddon control Dean's body.

_Please… no… This can't be real._

Abaddon and the three minions simultaneously whipped their heads around to the door. They had obviously heard or felt something he had not. His eyes frantically jumped between the demons' reactions and the door, but he couldn't fathom what might happen next.

He felt the vibrations, the low rumbling before he heard the sound. It boomed like continuous thunder, rolling and vibrating the entire motel. Wind howled and flashes of lightening flashed across the windows. The lights exploded around them, followed by the TV and all the glass in the room. The windows exploded and glass went flying in all directions. The five of them all ducked to avoid the spray of sharp, jagged pieces that flew around the room.

Sam was breathing in quick pants, unsure of what force was coming for them.

Blinding light pierced through every conceivable crack into the room and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. The demons beside him were screaming and he knew they were dying. He could smell the burning as the light went through them, creating black holes where their eyes had once been.

A loud crack splintered the air and a whoosh of hot air shot through the entire room.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance!" Dean's voice craned loudly over the sound. Sam hesitantly lifted his eyelids. He was no longer held by demons, thankfully. They were dead on the floor beside him. He reached down and picked up his knife.

His vision flashed up as he ascended to see Dean's body blocking the shape in the doorway, but then Sam saw it, the flash of beige.

_Cas!_ He breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone could save his brother, Cas could do it. For Dean – of course he would.

"I command you to vacate that vessel." Castiel moved into the room like a force of nature. Powerful and strong. Sam was never more glad to see him.

"_Please."_ Abaddon smirked at the angel, curling a lip. "We both know you're all show." She ran Dean's finger down Cas' chest, Cas glanced down at it, unhindered and unbothered.

"You have no concept of the power I hold." Cas replied as the room was thrown into darkness. The only light coming from Cas' form. He glowed bright, his eyes becoming an iridescent blue, and long black shadows appeared behind him – both great and terrifying.

"How is this possible?!" Abaddon cried out. "None of the angels have had this power since the fall." She moved forward, despite the searing heat of Cas' exposed energy and tilted her head as if she could see into his mind.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." Cas replied on a devilish grin, momentarily looking back at Sam.

"Not enough, angel." Abaddon quipped back, moving closer with Dean's body. Though Cas remained defiant in his stance, his head tilted back with his cold blue stare fixed on Abaddon, it didn't stop the Knight of Hell from reaching out and securing Dean's hands tightly around Cas' throat.

Cas hardly reacted, Sam watched in horror as the scene played out – looking exactly like his brother and Cas were about to kill each other.

"That's right, you pathetic ball of light: You. Can't. Touch. Me!" Abaddon's words were like steal and Sam could see her grip tightening.

"Remove… yourself…" Cas choked out around the pressure on his throat.

"Why bother?" Abaddon snarled into the angel's face. "There's no one left in here but me."

Her words cut through Sam and he nearly fell to the ground. His brother was gone.. Dean was gone… _Oh God! _How could he have let this happen? How could Sam have let his brother go off alone? And… _fuck…_they had never even been given the chance to get things right. It was happening all over again, Sam thought, as the remorse etched through every vein. He had left things so horrible between him and his father and now Dean… his own brother. Who, in the end, had come to mean so much more than his own father had.

No… no… this couldn't be happening. The room spun wildly and Sam wavered on his feet. He needed out of this horror show. He couldn't take it any longer.

His vision was clouded with tears and he stood there in a state of stilled suspension, just watching, becoming detached. He drifted somewhere distant and unfeeling.

"I'm quite certain you're wrong." Sam heard Cas say distantly. _What? What does that mean?_

"Trust me, baby. I am the only thing in control of this hot hunk of meat." Dean's voice lilted in a strange feminine way and Cas just smiled back in response. _What the hell was wrong with him?_ Sam wondered. Sam felt so lost…. Nothing was making any sense anymore.

"Not for long." Cas stated with complete confidence.

Abaddon staggered just for a second and Cas reared his arms up between them and brought them down in blurry motion of speed, shoving Abaddon away from him. Sam watched as Castiel marched towards her, she stumbled back in surprise – unsure of whether or not Castiel truly held the power to take her on.

"Dean?" Cas said loudly staring into his brother's face.

"I told you – he's not here!" Abaddon screamed but her face twisted in pain. "Ugghh_hh!_" She grunted with the deepness of Dean's voice as her body torqued in the most inhuman display of contortionism. The entire upper half of his brother's body almost completely rounded on itself. Sam had never seen anything like it before, he watched wide-eyed and terrified. He wanted so badly to peel his eyes away but he couldn't force his eyeballs to register the command.

"Nnnooo!" He heard Abaddon bellow and she bared Dean's teeth at Castiel who looked triumphant.

Between one millisecond and the next, the violent struggle Abaddon appeared to be having with herself ceased completely.

Castiel watched carefully, waiting for something. That was when Sam allowed himself to hope for the impossible. _Could it …? Maybe?_ He was unexpectedly aware again of his own heartbeat – as if the last ten minutes it had been on vacation – and now it was so glad to be back it was hammering away in delight inside of him.

A slow grin spread across Dean's face, his eyes flashing with darkness. "Well this is even _better." _She sneered at the angel, licking Dean's lips.

Sam saw the flicker of panic in the angel's eyes – unfortunately so did Abaddon.

"You think this changes anything?" She asked smugly. "_Please_… I like hearing him scream inside of me. You know what would be even better?" She hummed softly, leaning down towards Castiel.

"Hearing him struggle and feeling his pain as I rip apart his beloved angel." She snaked out Dean's tongue, wetting his lips and watched Castiel frantically try to regain his footing. Sam had no idea what the angel's plans had been – but they appeared to be crumbling. Regardless, the relief that had flooded through Sam from the acknowledgement that Dean was in there somewhere was so intense that he almost didn't care that his brother was still possessed by a Knight of Hell. At least he was fucking alive! Sam thought.

More demons appeared in the doorway, sliding past the splintered wood from where Cas had blown it apart.

Castiel's stare flashed to Sam and he gestured wildly with his eyes in a quick movement. Sam knew that Cas was telling him to leave but there was no fucking away he was letting his brother be alone…. Not again.

"Get rid of him." Abaddon nodded towards Sam and the demons turned and started taking steps in his direction. He got himself down into a ready fight stance.

Castiel had careened forward at them, hand-outstretched ready to be the killing machine Sam had seen before, but Abaddon crashed into him and the two fumbled backwards several feet as they smashed into the wall on the back side of the room. Sam could hear them practically growling at each other, eyes dark and heated with the fight.

Sam bent his knees, rooting himself on the spot but there were too many demons and he knew it. He counted five, and thought that maybe a sixth had entered to join the party as well. A loud smash and pieces of wood came flying across the room from Abaddon throwing Castiel clear across the space towards the far wall. The angel's body slammed into the same crevice that Sam had created with his own back earlier.

Sam ripped his eyes away from Cas' fight to focus on his own. They were all around him now, and before he could react, one had appeared behind him and brought down something heavy and solid against the back of his head.

He dropped to the ground unconscious and they carted his body away.

/\

Castiel swiftly pulled himself upright, brushing the bits of drywall and chipped paint off his clothing as he faced off against the demon controlling Dean's body.

He hadn't actually been one-hundred-percent sure that Dean would return, but he felt that he knew the man very well and faced with the option of returning – he believed that Dean would choose to live. To make things right with Sam, of course. And maybe, Cas hoped, a part of Dean wanted to return for him as well.

"If you…" Abaddon said a little out of breath, "just stayed complacent. Maybe I won't be so hard on him. He is only my insurance after all, until I have total control. I can discard him like garbage afterwards if I so choose." She said, pausing the action.

Castiel looked around the room and knew Sam had been taken but he had to focus on one thing at a time. He wished he wasn't alone in this fight. God had placed an incredible weight on his shoulders and the bastard had somehow forgotten to mention what Castiel would be coming back to.

"What do you even want?" Cas asked harshly.

"To rule Hell; to defeat Crowley; to be the new Devil? Take your pick – _Actually_ – I choose all of the above." She said in light-hearted way.

Every syllable she uttered through Dean's voice and every expression she controlled of his features tore away at him and he cracked, surging forward in a flurry of motion. He was stopped by a thick hand clutching his wind-pipe for the second time.

He growled at her in a harsh rolling sound that he hardly recognized as his own. She threw him by the throat against the only open wall that was still intact – not anymore, he realized as his body curved into the new shape of the plaster.

Using Dean's body, she pushed up against him. "You just won't let it go will you? You stupid insect." Her presence made Dean's breath smell rotten, and the heat of it rolled across his skin in a sickening way.

"Perhaps you both need a lesson in knowing your place in this brave new world." She gripped Cas on either side of his face with every ounce of demonic force she possessed. She began uttering words in Enochian. How she knew them he had not a clue. He was rendered unable to move or speak.

When the dissonant words ceased he felt the tight constriction of magic surrounding him and holding him in place. He had not expected this outcome and cursed himself for underestimating her.

His energy was depleted, and he struggled against the iron binds that now encased his wrists held over his head.

The sudden breeze on his bare chest was cool against the open wounds that suddenly existed there. An Enochian sigil was carved into him. It trapped him. All he had left to fight with was his reason and his voice. He desperately needed to reach out to Dean. If he could just get to him, he could fix this. It was like the alley all over again except so much worse. Then Castiel had only needed to pierce through his nightmares, now the angel needed to get passed the demon in control.

The reality that this demon was in fact a Knight of Hell further reduced his chances of success a depressing amount.

But… Dean was alive. Castiel had to remember that. To use it as his strength, and he did.

Dean, or rather, Abaddon in Dean's flesh stood before him, proud and excited about her new toy. Castiel had seen the look. Things were about to get really bad. Castiel could take it… whatever it was. No matter how bad it got, he could handle the torment.

But Dean couldn't. Cas knew that. After seeing inside Dean's head – how little the hunter thought of himself. Holding memories of ripping into someone he loved would break him. By the gleam in Abaddon's eyes, she knew it too.

She dragged a bloody finger into the carved lines of his chest. The pain flaring as she made the journey through the patterns. He breathed through the pain.

She curled her fingers into the flesh on a low curve, digging in and ripped out an actual piece of him. His vision blurred and his grace wilted. Castiel felt his eyelids flutter against his cheek. A strangled noise escaped him, but he clamped his mouth shut against further weakness.

Dean is alive…

He raised his head defiantly and met her challenge. She reared a closed fist backwards and then let it snap forward, cracking into his face. The pressure cleared for a second before the fist returned and his head felt like it was going to explode.

Dean is alive…

"Think your tough?" Castiel heard the distant voice through the ringing in his ears. He forced his stare to meet hers… seeing the green eyes only made him angrier and he glared at her in hatred.

"Dean…" Castiel croaked through his crumpled vessel's face. "Please… hear me…"

Abaddon laughed. "Oh, he can hear you alright." She leaned forward and sharply bit his lip, drawing blood. It startled him, and he tried to lick the blood away, but his jaw wasn't cooperating right.

"You know… he's trying hard, but he's no match for me." Abaddon said. "I told him what I plan to do next and he is screaming. It's the most amazing sound." She said warping Dean's voice to sound pleasured.

Castiel let his head hang to the side. He didn't care what she did. He could take anything.

Dean is al—

The mantra was cutoff as Dean's hands ripped apart the clasp on Castiel's trousers and yanked them down around his ankles. His blue eyes flashed up in shock. He wasn't sure how to react. He was astonished, and yet probably shouldn't be surprised that Abaddon would take this route of torture. She was evil, after all.

"The … way… you… choose to … torture me….s'not…. matter." He breathed through the pain and with difficulty with what he thought was a thoroughly broken face.

"Maybe not to you…." She said sweetly, twisting Dean's voice. "But it is _destroying_ the hunter trapped in here with me." She added and, of course, that was why. She had been inside Dean's head now, Castiel realized. She was using Dean's feelings for him as the fuel for her game. Dean would never be the same.

"Dean… s'okay…" He whispered reassuringly even as he felt a rough hand grabbing him painfully. Though technically the hand was Dean's, Castiel only felt the hot, smoky, disgusting, touch of the demon. He allowed it to consume his senses and cloud reality.

This was not Dean.

"Is… not you…" He said, forcing himself to look into the green eyes… to look past them as deep as he could to try and reach the soul he knew was inside.

"Don't you dare look at him!" She yelled and he was suddenly face to face with the wall. A distant part of him realized they were still in the motel and the door was wide open. Who knew where humanity had gone. Maybe Abaddon had killed everyone. Or worse… possessed them.

And Sam… he thought sadly… where was Sam?

The next two hours would be … unpleasant for Castiel. However, it was not his torture that he suffered for.

/\

Sam and Crowley stood side by side, covered in demon blood. The two of them had taken on the astounding total of seven demons that had captured Sam. His head was pounding and he had no idea where they were.

"Where are we?" He asked as he wiped blood off his face as best he could. He had several deep cuts that would need attention, but they felt like paper cuts for all he cared at the moment.

He needed to get to his brother.

"We are… just outside Detroit. No idea why." Crowley told him with a shrug. "This was where I found you with them." He replied. Despite Sam's hatred of the King of Hell, he sincerely appreciated the rescue.

"Ah…. Thanks." He said awkwardly.

"You owe me!" Crowley jabbed a finger in his direction.

"Yeah…" Sam didn't quite agree with that, but he'd go along with it for now. "Hey, how come it seems like all demons can just like friggin' zap everywhere now? What's that about?" Sam asked as he took in the surroundings of his new location.

"Abaddon." Crowley answered in explanation.

"Right." He nodded. "Take me back." Sam demanded and Crowley raised his eyebrows in protest.

"Really, moose? One beating wasn't enough for you?!" He voice cracking like a slap on the hand.

"We _need_ to help my brother. He's alive…" Sam said in a hard voice, urging Crowley into action. Crowley regarded him for a short minute and finally sighed in a dramatic way.

"Fiiinnneee!" He droned in defeat.

They stood on the same asphalt where the night had started. Sam had no idea how much time had passed. The motel was deserted. Lights were flickering in spastic patterns. The vacancy sign was hanging by a thin piece of metal. One car was decidedly wrecked.

There was a keening, high-pitched noise coming from somewhere, and the pavement was littered with a mixture of dead angels and demons. Burnt eyes in contrast with burnt wings.

The Impala was still there, not a scratch on her and the corner of Sam's mouth twitched at the thought that Dean would be happy his baby survived the wreckage of the night. It was decidedly a little peculiar, Sam thought as he took in the shiny sight of the black car – looking perfectly serene – amidst the destruction.

The splintered hole where a door once hang, was ominous. Crowley and Sam stared at it – exchanging an uncertain look with one another. No demons came out after them. No angels. No older brother either.

They took a few small steps forward and then Sam immediately doubled his pace and finally jogged all the way until he found himself standing in the open cavity of the motel.

His jaw dropped and he spun around and shoved Crowley away from the door.

"What the hell, moose?!" Crowley protested, shoving back.

"Leave." Sam said. "Just leave. I'll be fine." Crowley tried to peer around his body, but Sam grabbed him by the fancy shirt collar. "GO!" He shouted.

Crowley threw his hands up in defeat and backed away. "Whatever…" He said, snapping his fingers and was gone.

Sam turned around slowly and walked over broken glass and pieces of wood back into the room. He knew this night would haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn't even be surprised if it tagged along into the afterlife.

He face dropped, curving into a deep frown as he walked forward and picked up his friend's bloody, unclothed body.

He prayed that Cas wasn't dead. _C'mon….Cas…_

He held Castiel in his arms and peered down at his features. His face was mostly covered in blood. His lip still leaking blood in a slow trickle.

"Cas…" Sam whispered.

He released a nervous breath when he felt a flicker of movement. It was hardly anything – a twitch really. But he knew Cas was alive, though maybe not for long.

Sam walked out of the room and realized he had nowhere to go. He needed to fix the angel, but how? He moved on a quick decision into the adjacent room. He kicked the door open, finding no one inside. No bodies either, which was sort of a surprise given the state of the place.

He eased the angel onto the bed, and rushed into the bathroom to get a damp towel.

"Cas… can't you heal yourself?" He pleaded as he started wiping the mixture of still wet and dried blood off of him. When he was done with Castiel's face and arms, he started on his chest and realized what was likely preventing the angel's ability to heal.

Sam obviously couldn't fix it. He could stitch it though, and maybe that would be enough. He was aware that he was shaking pretty bad and worried that he might not be able to operate a needle and thread well enough to get the job done. When he was finished cleaning up the angel's front, he wadded up a sheet from the opposite bed and placed it against the shredded wound at the bottom of Cas' stomach. It looked so ragged and Sam was sick from looking at it.

He then tried to gently push the angel over so Sam could check for more damage. As he eased Cas onto his front, making sure his face was turned to the side so it would be smashed into the bed, he froze and his blood turned cold.

He had never been so crumpled by the evidence of torture before. There were long cuts down the angel's back and Sam really didn't want to know what that meant. Especially, since they appeared to be exactly where Sam imagined the angel's invisible wings would be.

That sight should have been the worst of everything… it wasn't. He felt hot tears surge up in his eyes and felt sick again.

_Oh God…_ his brother had done this…. No. That's not true. Dean's _body_ had done this. He clenched his teeth tight, grinding them into one another painfully in an effort to hold down the bile in his throat.

He detached himself from the job at hand as best he could, trying determinedly not to think about what he was cleaning up. When he was done, he eased Castiel, once again, onto his back and placed a comforter over his lower half.

A rasp of breath slipped through Cas' lips as the blanket settled on him.

"Cas!" Sam leaned forward. "Hey… hey… you okay?" _Stupid fucking question, Sam!_ He cursed himself.

"I mean, how can I help? It's this mark right?" He asked, his words tumbling in panic. "How do I get rid of it?"

Cas barely responded to his torrent of frantic words, but his fingers were moving so Sam reached down to grab his hand and squeezed it. Sam felt a searing pain and his eyes blasted wide open as hot light spread from their connected palms.

He could see the strain on Castiel's face as he held on with monumental effort. When the angels hand finally fell away, Sam landed on his ass on the motel room carpet.

His arm was tingling like it had fallen asleep and he shook it as he got up and latched his eyes onto the sight in front of him. The carving on the angel's chest was gone, but all the other damage remained for the most part.

His friend was suddenly trembling violently, his eyelids fluttering fast and insistent. It looked very much like a seizure, but Sam had no clue what to do about it. He bent down to use his own body weight to hold the angel still, but the second his skin made contact he jumped back from the searing heat.

He watched, helpless, as the tremors continued, but after several minutes of staring in shock he began to see the change. The cuts, scrapes, blood, sliced lip… everything faded as Cas' skin got brighter and brighter.

Light erupted from the angels' orifices' and Sam held an arm across his eyes to shield them. When the light faded, he lowered his arm and Castiel lay there still but completely healed.

"Cas?" Sam whispered, reaching out hesitantly to touch his shoulder. He braced himself for another burn but just found regular warm skin.

Cas jumped at the contact, sitting up in a blinding motion. "Dean!" He cried sharply, his eyes staring off somewhere.

"Cas? It's Sam…" He corrected. The angel turned his head slowly to look at him. Confusion spread across his face and then he seemed to come into reality.

"Sam…" Castiel said slowly and looked around the room in such a distinct way that Sam could tell his angelic senses were stretching out far beyond the confines of this room.

"What happened, Cas? Where's my brother?" He felt like a jackass for asking knowing what had happened but he couldn't help his urgency. Sam noticed the flicker of something in Castiel's expression. Sorrow? Despair? It wasn't good.

"He is still… with Abaddon." Castiel explained in a small voice.

Sam's heart beat a little faster but he forced himself to focus. "What happened when you healed? You grabbed my hand and it burned...and-"

"I used Gadreel's remaining grace within you to help heal myself." Cas interrupted and Sam's mouth dropped.

"He left grace in me?" His mouth forming a line of disgust.

"Yes, and let's be thankful for that." Cas replied reproachfully. A silent, awkward moment passed between them.

"Cas…" Sam broached, treading carefully. "Do you… umm… do you wanna talk about?" He put it out there and looked away immediately.

"No." Cas said definitively. "Besides," Cas spoke as he stood up and miraculously had clothes on again, "it is not me you must worry about."

"How do we get him back? We don't even know how to kill her!" Sam felt defeated, the reality of the events of the night felt tight and ragged like a disgusting scar that wouldn't go away.

"I can get her out. I have a way, but I do not know how to kill her. However, this is not the worst of our problems right now." Castiel said ominously as he met Sam's eyes.

"You're kidding me right." Sam said running both hands through his hair and pulling it roughly in the process.

"What the fuck could be worse than… than my brother dying? Than him fucking being possessed by an immortal Knight of Hell!? And then what he… How she used…" He choked on the words, and Castiel managed to look sorry for him, despite the fact that he had been the goddamned victim of this fucking tragedy.

"What could be worse than all of that?" Sam said finally, throwing his arms out to the sides feeling completely beaten.

"We must lay siege to hell in order to retrieve him." Castiel spoke with courageous, single-minded purpose.

"And we will need all the help we can get." He added looking to Sam.

* * *

**A/N: More characters will be coming in soon, including Jody Mills, some more Crowley. And we will get to see how Dean handles being trapped in Hell, under the control of Abaddon. **

**I will try to write a little cheery (totally separate) one-shot soon to break apart all this horror I'm throwing your way. Stay in touch ladies and gents. ;)  
**


	9. Chapter 9: Tomorrow We Go To War

**A/N: This first section is bad. I mean it hurt to write. I actually feel like I need to go watch a romantic comedy or something. I'm sorry.**

* * *

It was suffocating and every breath tasted like rotten garbage on his tongue.

His skin itched but no amount of scratching got rid of the irritation. Dean's throat burned on every inhale and his eyes stayed perpetually out of focus.

It was hard to explain, what being possessed felt like. His sight would tell him he was standing in some non-descript defunct room in an abandoned building. But it was a lie. Dean could vaguely sense the movements of his body, the sights the demon saw through his eyes. The whole experience was like looking through a two-way mirror inside his mind – seeing himself and not himself.

He was a broken shell letting it play out. Whatever Abaddon did now, he hardly cared. She had done enough. She had done something so unthinkable that he lost the strength to fight. She made him experience every second of it and she hadn't bothered to clean up after and so, even now, he could feel it on him. The evidence. The hatred and disgust snaked around in his stomach and he wished he was dead again. He would beg for it if he'd had the strength.

He watched, detached, as Abaddon made her way into hell. The hot, humid air saturated with the smell of burning skin and that metallic tinge of blood. She was murmuring to him, a quiet whisper in his ear. How excited she was that they were together; how she would show him how great the world could be; how they could rule it together. She reminded him of the power he'd once felt in hell from the torturing of souls and Dean sat on the ground within the room inside his mind and let it wash over him.

She continued to speak to him like a lover's kiss, soft and enamoured. He didn't call her a bitch, didn't yell at her. He sat and remained quiet.

She spoke to a few underlings and then made her way to take in the sights of hell from her perch up high on some balcony or jut out, he couldn't tell. Three areas of torture spread out below her. Each and every one was not surprising to Dean. He'd been one of those rutted corpses once. And then the tides had turned and he'd caved and ripped through skin himself.

Abaddon watched through his green eyes and smiled with pleasure. She slid a hand down his front and the view switched and he was fully placed in the front row seat. She wanted him to experience this as well. He would have shrugged, or sighed, if he cared enough anymore to do even that.

As the Knight of Hell fixated his eyes on a knife slicing down the stomach of a victim, blood gurgling up sickeningly, she rubbed along the length of flesh inside his jeans and only then did he react. A flinch and then it abated. She continued to stroke him as she became aroused from the sight of torture. He wasn't there, not really. He felt the touch, the slip of skin as she pulled him out – demons below watching of course – and she began stroking him rough and hard. There was bile rising in his throat that he couldn't help – an automatic reaction. His mind stayed blank and she continued masturbating while she watched and tingled from the screams below.

As distant from this moment that he was, a part of him still registered the worst parts of it all. And it wasn't that she was touching him, or masturbating to torture. It was that, from his vantage point, _he_ felt aroused. Not in that secondary, echo of feeling, but the direct burning hum of arousal and he hated it. He wanted to feel nothing. But he wasn't that lucky. The worst part… worst of everything, was the evidence still on him that eased her touch and the slide of his palm.

Dean curled away from all his senses as best he could but it wasn't much use. She was in full control. He shuddered in pleasure as she came and he wanted to cry, but he didn't have the will or presence of mind.

"We will be so great, you and I." She purred while stroking him languidly before tucking him away.

He didn't reply.

/\

Sam and Castiel hadn't rested since returning to the bunker. They had been calling people non-stop. Castiel left every so often to bring people back and now the place was pretty full.

Sam looked around and took in the sight of almost ten hunters that had responded to their desperate plea. They weren't provided with full details yet but it astounded him how dedicated this lot were. Most surprising of all, was Crowley. Helping at every turn. Sam assured himself that it was because Crowley wanted Abaddon out of the way but something nudged at him the more he thought about it. Maybe it was the trials and Sam's blood, but whatever the reason, Crowley was different. A shred of a heart or decency. It was hard to pinpoint exactly and Sam didn't much trust him either way, but he would gladly take the help offered to get his brother back.

The hunters that answered and accepted their request knew the danger, they knew it involved going into Hell, not that many would do so willingly, but as Sam had learned long ago – hunters were ballsy and arrogant. Besides, if they could take a shot at evil, they would do it.

It was hard to acclimatise to the change of being relatively alone for so long and now to have to dodge people as the walked past him in the bunker, to have to wait for the bathroom, or shower, or not have to cook because someone had already done it. The bunker had turned into a command center in many ways – perhaps as it should have been.

Sam made his way down the hall, dodging Cale who gave a 'Howdy' as he walked past. Sam finally managed to get into the library and found a vacant seat at the big table. Cas was talking to a woman behind him in low hushed whispers.

"… we'll get him back." She said quietly to Cas, clearly offering comfort. Cas must have nodded because Sam didn't hear a response otherwise. The hunter walked past Sam and disappeared around the corner down the hall.

Cas came to stand beside him.

"Do you think it's enough?" Sam asked. Cas looked thoughtful for a long minute.

"I sincerely hope so." His bravado from a few days ago had started wavering. Sam had noticed instantly the change. Then again, he'd been watching Cas like a hawk ever since they got back. Neither had said a word about what they knew had happened. Sam tried to ignore it because Cas really didn't seem to be bothered by it anymore than he would from run of the mill torture. He tried hard not to let pity show through on his features but sometimes it slipped and Cas would give him a sad look. Like right now, actually.

"Sam, please stop thinking about it." Cas said to him in a low voice, trying not to be heard by others in the room.

"I'm sorry... it's just, are you sure you're okay?" Sam felt heavy with concern.

"I'm fine." Cas replied tight lipped and started walking away. Sam followed because the response was anything but okay. He followed Cas until they ended up around the end of a book case and out of view.

Cas rounded on him. "What?"

"It wasn't Dean."

"Gee, Sam thanks for the revelation." Cas' use of sarcasm didn't throw him off. Sam held back a response and decided to wait patiently, just in case.

Finally Cas' features softened and his eyes closed briefly. "Really, Sam I am fine. I know it wasn't Dean, and to be completely honest, I don't think an angel would see it the same way as a human would. We don't have the same _connections_ to our bodies that you do. Was it pleasant? Obviously not. The only part of it that haunts me is knowing what it did to Dean, I can handle it but I know he can't. So we need to make haste to hell because I am terrified that when he find him there will be nothing left."

Sam blinked as the understanding of Cas' words settled around him. He hadn't thought of it that way and now that his eyes had been opened, he knew what Cas said was true. Dean was going to be dead when they found him, even if his heart was still beating, that would only be a technicality of his body functioning.

"Oh, shit." Sam mumbled in shock and Cas nodded empathetically.

"I think it's time to brief everyone and make our plans. We need to leave soon."

Cas was rounding up everyone and Sam knew he needed to be there but he found himself seated on the edge of Dean's bed unable to move.

His head hung low between his legs as his breathing stuttered in his throat. He was so close to losing it and the only thought that kept him grounded was knowing that two Winchesters couldn't be out of commission at the same time. What would happen to the world? The bitter sarcasm left a taste in his mouth and he tried to swallow it away.

A soft, fresh smell entered the room as the air swooshed in as a result of the door being shut. Sam had grown accustomed to that smell and his muscles relaxed.

He wasn't sure when it had started happening. Maybe even so far back as when they'd fought the God of Time. Something about her eased him in a way that nothing else had since Jess.

Hands came to rest on his shoulders, subtly rubbing into the muscles and Sam angled forward to rest his head on her stomach.

"Sam, we'll get him back." Jody said, running a hand through his long hair.

He huffed indifference 'cause he really didn't know anymore. Would they get Dean back? Maybe his body, but Dean? Sam was losing confidence.

She shushed him and offered comfort and he took it. He was greedy for it because it was so rare that it come so easy to him, so natural.

When he sat up and looked at her, she brought a hand to his face and rubbed below his eye with her thumb. "You look like shit." She said sweetly and it managed to bring a small laugh out of his throat.

"You say such nice things to me." He replied trying his best to smile.

"Cas is waiting for you." She reminded him. He nodded and she moved back so he could stand up. When he stood he bent and wrapped his arms around her waist, her arms came up around his neck and he squeezed and straightened, which had the effect of lifting her right off her feet.

"Thank you." He said in her ear. She didn't reply but squeezed tighter. He lowered her to the ground and walked towards the door with her trailing behind him. He should be thinking more about it but he'd worry about it at a time when the bunker wasn't filled with hunters readily volunteering for a trip to hell to save a brother that might not even care to be saved. The depression wrapped around him and threaded through his veins like cancer. The optimism had long been washed away and he was left with a black hole the felt fucking endless.

Sam did his best to put on a strong face when he entered the library. Cas needed him to be strong and so did the others. No matter what condition they found Dean in, Sam would still risk his life because he wouldn't give up on Dean, just like Dean hadn't given up on him. And just like that, Sam could care less about what Dean had done. Shoving an angel inside of him without his permission no longer felt like such a big deal anymore. _This_. Right now. Making plans to go into hell, _that_ was a big deal and it deserved all of his focus.

"You know why we've brought you all together and some of you know each other, some of you don't. I have been told that it is rare you work together but I implore you to heed my desperation for team work. Nothing else will give us more success than that. Trust me, this is not my first foray into perdition. Oddly, this will be the second time I make my way into damnation to save the same man. I believe you have all met Dean Winchester at some point and that is likely the reason you have all said yes without any hesitation."

There were nods around the room, smiles even. It warmed Sam's heart a little.

"We have inside knowledge, as it were." Cas said with a grin and Crowley walked in behind him. "Don't be alarmed, yes Crowley is a demon."

"King of Hell, in fact." Added Crowley cheekily.

"Yes." Cas rolled his eyes and then got back into it. "He is helping us because he wants Abaddon dead as much as we do and for the time being he is trustworthy. We will at least know where we need to go. She has cornered herself up in hell because she that is where she is making her efforts to overtake the underworld from Crowley. Trust me, that if she were to succeed it would be… catastrophic. Hell won't be anything like you expect – of course it's dark and sticky, you feel disgusting the entire time you are there, but its reality is fluid and can take you for a ride if you let it. Focus and reliance on the others will be what holds you together. I am not affected by it, but you will be. Demons may take on the form of loved ones and try to slow us down, please don't let them. Basically assume everything is not real. Unless they are coming at you, then by all means fight." Cas continued his overview of hell and what people should expect, it made him sound like a professor and Sam caught himself smiling at the angel.

They went through the details: when they would leave, teams they would break up into, weapons they would need, and a number of details. It occurred to him that they were waging war and the thought brought a surge of dread crashing over him. As long as he'd been a hunter, he'd never been a part of something so large scale. Yes, the apocalypse had been huge but it was still just him and Dean fighting it for the most part. Now he was part of a mini group of soldiers getting ready to battle hell. It was both terrifying and exciting.

They would be on their way in less than forty-eight hours. Sam decided it was time for a word with the King of Hell.

/\

Cale had his ass parked on the tiled floor behind a stack of books, his legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles propped on yet another stack of books. He was at ease with everything. He'd always loved a good fight, definitely a challenge. When Sam had put this gem in his lap, he'd slapped his leg in excitement.

He had blond hair but it was always buzzed short and tight to his scalp. A persistent tan that would no doubt turn into leather if he lived long enough – which was unlikely given his employment situation but he had made peace with that long ago.

A hard jaw and toffee eyes, he was a decent looking man. Not a ton smart but he could fight and he had sass by the bucketful. Raised in Millersview, Texas, just east of the I83, he had a strange welcome into the hunting world. The story was more than unique, as hunters go.

When he'd been about nineteen, a woman came through town that was so beautiful she made you sit up straight and wipe your mouth on a napkin instead of on your sleeve. He didn't speak a word to her for months, gathering that she kept mostly to herself.

A calf had gotten tangled up in one of the fences on his family's property. Babe musta been sick or runnin' cause they didn't normally volunteer for barbed-wire death for any other reason. He'd been makin' his way out on Buck with a shotgun slung across his back when the girl came from nowhere hightailing it across the land.

He trotted up to her, blocking her path, "Hiya, where you runnin' to?" Cale had asked.

"I don't want to go back. I'm not like that." She pleaded, her accent northern and sophisticated.

"You don't need to go anywhere you don't want." He replied and eased a hand down to pull her up onto Buck behind him.

She looked all shades wary of his offer but she saddled up behind him, arms slung around his waist and he headed forward.

"Just need to take care of somethin', and then we'll get you figured out." He said.

She hardly said one word the entire time he rode out to the edge of the property and put the calf out of it's misery with a practised shot. It slumped against the fence and the body would need to be taken care of but his priority was now seated behind him.

He cracked the reigns and the horse galloped back towards the house. Once inside, he'd offered her sweet tea because his parents had raised him right. She sipped it with nervous tension all around her like a cloud.

Her name was Hannah. Light blonde hair, straight as an arrow. Pale skin and black, black eyes (on occasion). Hannah had been a demon.

He hadn't known at first, she never told him straight away. Just said she was runnin' from some bad people and that was all he'd needed to know at the time. He let her stay on the farm, his parents were up in Colorado visiting his sister for the summer, who'd just given birth to child number three. He stayed behind to keep up the farm.

They never said much at first, she helped and made dinner and it was like having a housemate. Then he kissed her and everything changed. He'd learned she was a demon but she hadn't wanted to be. She'd given her soul to save her father from a terrible illness, some long medical name that Cale could never remember. When she was sucked into hell, the torture had been unbearable and she gave in and they told her to torture and she did. She didn't know how long she'd been down there but when she was set free as a demon and told to kill people on earth, she ran instead. And that was how she'd come to stay with him.

He wasn't scared of her. Perhaps he should have been, but in the end he discovered that his naivety was not for nothin' and he had been right about her. Well perhaps stupid is what some would call it. Regardless, when they came for her, she protected him – gettin' herself killed in the process. He killed his first demon that night, but it would'na been his last.

Coming back to the present, he found himself smiling. Hell was going to look into his face and he would tear that hole up for what it did to that woman – turning her into something she had never wanted to be – all for the sake of saving her dad. Shit wasn't right.

/\

Abaddon loved her new meat suit. He was just so damn delicious. The man inside bored her though. She couldn't get a rise out of him no matter what she did – and she had tried a lot.

They would come for her and she would be ready, a grin spreading across her new face. She will say she missed the clothes and makeup that had come with the previous body, but where that form had been pristine and polished, this one was rugged and hard – perfect for taking over hell. Always ready for a fight this body.

Her territory in hell was well guarded and if they managed to get this far she deserved to die. Really, she thought smugly, what could an angel and one deprived hunter think they could do in Hell?

/\

Cas found himself down in the garage. They had driven the Impala back that night and parked it down here. They wouldn't need it with what they were doing so it was staying put. Safe, thought Cas.

He opened the driver side door and sat down into the worn seat. He ran his hands over the steering wheel, the leather smooth under his skin. The car smelled like Dean, clean like soap with an undertone of alcohol and sweat. He felt the heat rise up inside of him as he remembered what God had told him, his eyes burned with the memory of Dean's death, and most of all he struggled with the vision of Dean's soul that had shattered before his eyes that night at the motel. Castiel had not lied to Sam, the physical component of the torture was nothing to him, but the emotional torment of watching Dean's soul, feeling it tear apart was what made him want to scream as loud as he could and break everything in this entire place with the resonance of his voice.

One step forward, two steps back. That was a saying he knew. Except it could be more accurately reworded as one nudge forward before being pushed off the edge of the earth, struggling and grappling in a pitiful attempt to stay on the spinning planet; all the while it doing its damndest to shoot you off into space.

His grip was tight around the steering wheel and the only thing stopping him from breaking it in half was knowing that Dean wouldn't be pleased. That is, if he even cared about such things anymore.

Cas would have to be a leader tomorrow. It frightened him considering his last attempt in that department. But in the end, no matter what shape Dean was in when they found him, it wouldn't matter. Cas would go to the ends of the universe to save him, even if all he got back was an empty vessel.

He heard footsteps coming across the cement but didn't look up. The passenger door creaked open and Sam sat down with a _thump_, the whole car moving with his weight.

"You left out an important detail back there." Sam noted.

"I know."

"You need to tell me." Sam was turned to face him, a hard look making his features appear rigid.

Instead of replying, Cas withdrew the small bottle from the inside of his coat pocket. It was a tiny clear vial that glowed bright with its contents.

Sam's reaction was as expected and Cas placed it back in its spot.

"What the hell is that?" Sam; ever asking the obvious.

"The grace I stole." The words were disgusting to him. He'd come a long way from heaven, but no amount of distance could lessen the feeling of such a repulsive action as taking another angel's grace as your own.

"If that's the one you stole, that what grace do you have now?" Sam asked but then barreled forward before he could respond. "Which reminds me! How did you get your wings back? What happened Cas? Where did you go? Crowley said you like vanished. In a way he'd never seen before. Cas… you need to tell me everything."

Cas shifted in his seat to look at Sam. "It's a long story and some of it is not mine to tell."

"I met God." Silence follows his words. Though he didn't expect any different.

"God?" Sam finally sputtered after two whole minutes had passed.

"Yes. When Dean…" Sometimes it was hard to breath. "When Dean… died. God pulled me to Heaven. He told me how to fix it, he told me a lot of things."

"I was furious at him. That whole time he stood by and let it all happen, he pretended to be our friend and did nothing!" Cas' voice crept higher and it seemed loud inside the car.

"Our friend?" Sam cocked his head dubiously.

"Chuck." Cue jaw dropping. Yes. Cas was past this revelation but didn't let Sam waste time freaking out over it. More important things afoot and whatnot.

"Yes, yes. Shocking. Anyway, He gave me my grace back. Mine. Which is what I have now. He has assured me he will take care of Metatron but everything else is up to us. Gadreel is dead, I'm not sure if you know that; if you saw him in the parking lot when we were there."

"No, I didn't." Sam stared vacantly. "Huh." The younger Winchester didn't appear to know how to react to this news. Happy the angel was dead? Upset it was not by his own hands?

"If we can reach Dean when we find him and get him to say yes, my grace will go into him and that will force Abaddon out."

"But how? And why didn't you do that before?" Sam asked.

"I tried." Cas replied in obvious tone. "God didn't tell me why it would work, it has something to do with me. My grace and my purpose in creation."

"Your purpose in creation? Jesus! That sounds serious." Sam said, blowing a breath out through his nose.

"Yup." Cas said in turn, shaking his head in agreeable disbelief.

"So that's your plan, we slice and dice through hell and somehow find Abaddon and attempt to get past her to Dean, and then after all that get Dean to say yes." Summed up perfectly, Cas thought.

"Try not to sound defeated before we begin." Cas said, forcing a smile for Sam.

Sam puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath in a long exhale, then turned and forced a smile back. "Well, let's give'em hell then!" Sam said encouragingly.

They shared laugh but it was bitter and dismal.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and left.

In Sam's absence Cas remained in the car. He let his mind wander aimlessly, trying not to focus on anything that would upset him. But the smell… God, the smell in that car crowded his senses.

_Please be okay. I miss you. We… Dean, we deserve better than this. Please be okay. I will find you, I promise. I will always find you. We're supposed to be together, remember?_

/\

Many guests at the bunker that night sought comfort with one another. Friends that hadn't seen each other in years stayed up to reminisce and enjoy the company with a few drinks. Some went after the simple need for a quick, heated physical connection.

Cas never came back upstairs and Sam imagined he spent the night in the car, breathing in Dean's scent. Sam had taken Dean's room and let someone else stay in his since there weren't enough beds for everyone. It had gone unsaid that no one other than Sam or Cas would be allowed in Dean's room. Sam was tempted to break that unspoken rule.

He was laying over the covers on his back nowhere close to sleeping. He doubted he'd be able to sleep even if he tried.

The door creaked open and he sat up hoping it wasn't someone needing something. Jody closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed. She didn't say a word as she brought a knee up on the end and crawled towards him. He reached for her and pulled her down on top of him, closing his mouth over hers in silent acceptance of whatever this was.

She opened and let him in and, _God_, he savoured that warmth. Clothes were slow to come off, there was no rush and he didn't want it any other way.

Sam pushed her naked body down onto the bed and settled himself over her. He kissed her slow and deep watching her reactions to his kiss, to his stare, to the way he pushed apart her legs with his knee.

They took each other in and it was comfortable. So easy with Jody, he realized. She just welcomed him to her, letting him take what she offered and it was beautiful and he felt terrible for it.

She pushed up to kiss him, a soft wet tongue slipping into his mouth and the kiss was a caress like nothing else. So perfect and soft and wonderful. He moaned into her mouth and she flinched underneath him as if she hadn't expected him to make any sounds at all.

The kiss broke apart and they stared at each other; so many questions with no answers.

"I want you, Sam. I'm not here for pity." She said softly brushing the hair off his forehead and holding it off his face.

He glanced away as he tried to gather his thoughts, it wasn't fair to her. He couldn't give anything back, but he settled for the truth in the end.

"I want you too." And with those words she leaned up to kiss him and wrapped her legs around his waist and the movement set him up perfectly in line with her core and he felt the heat of it.

He paused suddenly – a light coming on inside his head. "Uhh… wait a minute!" He said in mild panic but she held him still.

"I'm on the pill and clean, so if you're good?" She let the question hang and his head dropped into her shoulder.

_Thank God!_ Was all he could think because he wasn't sure Dean had any condoms in his room and was really not about to ask any of the hunters.

She smiled at him and it was damn beautiful, she made him feel a little less hallow. Sam kissed her cheek as sweet and reverently as possible as he pushed forward feeling her heat and wetness consume him and it burned the cold right out of him.

He kept an eye on her reaction because he knew that he was a bit on the larger side but her face seemed to melt into pleasure with every inch.

The first full thrust and she surprised him by almost screaming, he automatically put a hand over her mouth and they smiled like teenagers.

"Holy fuck, you're huge!" She blurted when he moved his hand. He blushed because she was so direct and it was refreshing.

He started moving and thrusting and her legs gripped around him and held on. She was loud, he discovered, but he loved it.

He fell in love with the sound of her voice and decided he couldn't get enough and wanted to find new ways for her to moan, new positions that would make her yell his name.

He eased up and back, keeping her legs tightly wrapped around his waist and ended up in a kneeling position with her up around his hips, his long arms wrapped around her smaller body holding her up off the bed. Sam started pistoning her down over him. Every time she bottomed out with a loud smack she cried out.

His skin was slick with sweat from the exertion of lifting her up and down over him, his thighs straining as he held himself in the position but the feel of her heat engulfing him tight had him moaning and yelling almost as loud as her.

He slowed down as he felt his orgasm building up and started rocking her over him in slow measured thrusts, her head fell back and breath flowed out of her like water, rippling and loose like she was high. He sucked on her throat, kept one hand around her waist and the other slipped down to grab her ass for greater leverage.

Sam bent them forward and hooked his arms under hers, wrapping his fingers over her shoulders from the back and pulled her on to him over and over again.

She was trembling and he sealed his lips on hers and tongued inside her mouth and eased her over his cock as slow as he could, the slowest of movements and then she was gone. Jody's body stilled and pulled tight and then it was shuddering, and her insides were gripping and milking him and Sam lost control and came in spasms, letting go hard inside of her. He crushed their bodies together, trying to crawl inside her as deep as he could while he came.

He kissed her for a long while after that. Even after pulling out, they settled down in the bed and he wrapped his arms around her and fell back into the kiss.

They both managed to fall asleep that night.


	10. Chapter 10: We Leave Perdition as Ghosts

**A/N: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter and I severely hope it turned okay as I felt a bit rushed with it. Please let me know if there are any glaring errors. Thanks so much for patience :)**

**/\**

* * *

Each day on earth equalled nearly four months in hell. Abaddon used her time wisely. Plotting mostly, knowing that the hunter's loved ones would come for him one day. _That_, or Crowley's supporters would try to overthrow her growing influence.

When she wasn't actively plotting, scheming, or campaigning, she was amusing herself with Dean. He was a ghost inside of her now after what would have felt like years for him of endless twisted degradation. She had seen his memories of hell; all of the pain that Alistair had given out; his triumph when Dean took that blade and sliced and diced like he was born to do it.

That had been her starting point when she tried to get a rise out of him after the incident in the motel. He hadn't responded even the slightest to her using him to torture or her letting his body be tortured while she slid into the background.

She got creative after that; warping the reality in hell to create fun little scenarios for the hunter to enjoy. At first, she replayed what they'd done together to his precious angel. After that she started taking his body for a real spin, getting him used to pain – wanting it and liking it. She slowly twisted his reactions, changing his body to respond the way she wanted it to.

It had taken a long time before she knew she'd managed to change him. He never said a word to her, he hardly fought at all. There had been only a few times since they'd been in hell together that he'd tried to fight her – the one time she'd made him think he was attacking his brother, the other time it had been when she'd distanced herself in the middle of a delicious one-way pleasure ride, and despite her letting go of the reigns, he'd kept going, unable to stop. He screamed then, knowing what he'd become – how wrong and messed up he was.

Abaddon realized she'd pushed a bit too far because nothing got him to scream like that again. It was as though he became resigned. Passively accepting his new state of being one with her; sharing in her joys and pleasures.

"I told you we would be great together." Her words licked at him inside and Dean shivered in pleasure.

/\

Breaching through the realms was painful. Sam felt like his body had sidled up beside fire and ice, burning against his skin as they found their way striding onto hard surface from where they'd emerged into Hell. Cas was in front of him, looking strong and purposeful. The angel was, in fact, a great leader. Especially when it came to battle. They were all in groups. Sam with Cas of course, Jody and Cale behind them, and a few others after that. Crowley was far ahead trying to pave the way as discreetly as possible.

Hell looked similar to when Sam had seen it before – when he'd come to get Bobby. The same darkness, tinged with sinister lighting. A wet sickly-sweet smell poured into his nose and he stifled a gag, swallowing down the bile.

Cas pulled out his angel blade just as a demon stepped into their path, the blade was fast and precise. Cas turned back to look at Sam, _here we go_ the look said.

It wasn't long after that before there were demons, hordes of them, coming after them. Sam wondered if Hell had the equivalent of a trespass alarm that was soundly beating out somewhere, warning all the demons of their arrival.

Cas called his name and Sam snapped around, sinking Dean's purgatory blade into a demon at his back.

He heard Cas grunt and turned to see the angel with a leg outstretched and a demon flying ten feet down the hall. Two hunters ducked as the body sailed over their heads.

"Jesus!" One of them cried out before turning to face the new threat – back to back with his partner.

"Go! Go!" Sam yelled to Cas, running to catch up with him and they slashed a couple more demons before finding themselves on the ledge cropping out over a deep wide cavern stretching nearly a hundred feet across. Stairs went in every direction, fire erupted in random places, sharp edges jutted out dangerously, screams could be heard coming from every direction, flashing lights busted out of small holes and rooms that were scattered along the walls that sank deep towards an endless pit….

"If I ever needed a picture of hell…" Sam started and looked at Cas, his eyes wide.

Cas looked around and then finally gestured to the far upper left. Sam nodded, hearing others storm around the corner behind him, running and halting - their breathing quick and rushed. He turned around to make sure Jody was still among them. She was… she was bloody, but alive.

Sam looked up, following Cas' stare and saw the biggest gap in the rock face. Tall, sharp towers of rock erupted from the base in a majestic, yet frightening display.

"He's there." Cas said softly, turning to start walking towards a stair case that had actual skulls littered on a few steps. Sam imagined there would be more as he began the climb.

Unsure and taking every bit of caution, Sam ordered a couple of the groups to take a different route than them. Just in case.

A thing more creature than demon landed on the stairs in front of Sam and Cas. It snarled at them, its breath coming out in hot mist. Black drool dripped from its toothy mouth. Sam swallowed thick and came to stand beside Cas on the narrow stair case – the one without rails over an endless pit… in Hell. _Oh fuck, _Sam thought._ We are so screwed._

Sam looked over at Cas beside him and saw utter calm on his features. It was deathly and cold and Sam had to wonder which thing he should be more afraid of.

"Close your eyes, Sam." Cas' voice was frighteningly lifeless. Sam did as he was told, gesturing behind him for others to do the same.

Light erupted against his eyelids as he heard the most terrifying scream he's ever heard in his life. It was guttural and sickly, like evil itself was being tortured. Sam's stomach heaved as a disgusting smell and humid air washed over him.

The light recessed, his eyelids no longer red in front of his eyes, and Sam opened his eyes slowly, turning to see Cas looking stone-cold, his face expressionless but hard as he gazed down at the puddle of black and gore at his feet.

"Cas?" Sam's voice shook, suddenly afraid of what all of this shit had done to the guy. If Sam lost both of them, he didn't know –

A scream pierced the large space, coming from behind him and he turned to see Maggie – Jeff's partner – falling over the side, a blade sticking out from her chest. Jody, Jeff and Cale reached out but she was gone… and then she disappeared in front of his eyes. Another blade flew through the air at them. They were definitely under attack.

Cas suddenly appeared in front of him holding Maggie in his arms. He pulled the knife out and healed her before passing her quickly off to Jeff, "Take her, and don't lose focus again." Cas barked at the guy, shoving Maggie into his waiting arms.

Cas waved a hand and the deadly sharp objects flying at them got derailed, soaring off into other directions. Cas strode past him and kept going. It took a minute for Sam to regain control of his body. He shared a look of concern with Jody and started jogging up the steps to follow the angel.

They were so close now. They'd had to get out of that open space, they were too much of a target, so now they were working their way through the far side of the open space, several storeys below where they needed to be. More and more demons came, some resembled humans, and some were no more than beasts.

Sam had been fighting hard, hearing Cas make deep noises of effort behind him as the angel fought his own battle. They were back to back when they paused abruptly as Jeff's head soared above them – _without a body._

"Noo!" Maggie screamed and Sam could hear her lose control, yelling and attacking without focus.

"Help her!" Sam yelled to the other two, pushing back against Cas as Sam brought his arm in a downward slash cutting through the flesh in front of him. It reared back but Cas stumbled in reverse and Sam used the momentum to give the final blow through the neck, light erupted from the demon and it crashed to the floor. Sam spun around and brought his blade down over Cas' shoulder into the face of the thing Cas had been fighting bare-handed having lost his angel blade somewhere during the fight.

Sound settled and they looked around, Cas stepped away to pluck his blade where it had managed to lodge itself into one of the rock walls. Maggie was standing straight, breathing hard, her eyes glazed over in unshed tears and her features distorted into sordid hatred.

She pulled hard out of Jody's comforting grasp on her arm, "I'm fine." She snapped and walked past everyone to take lead. Sam had known that she and Jeff had hunted together for years and he'd always suspected they'd been more than friends whenever he and Dean had run into them from time to time – though they'd always denied it. Sam couldn't imagine what she must be going through, but she surged on ahead and he admired her courage – saddened, also, knowing that she would blame him for Jeff's death. Her loss for his gain and it wasn't fair. Sam had a moment to ponder if it was worth it.

Cas brushed past him, giving him a hateful look, "Don't think. Fight. That is all you must do." Cas said as he moved ahead.

Sam turned and saw Cale and Jody sharing a pained look. Cale wasn't one for sporting such an expression – the guy could hold a smile even in the worst of fights – the most dire of times, he'd thought. Charging into hell was going to give them all a very different perspective on what counted for worse.

Sam rubbed his jaw and turned to keep going. Cas had been watching him and the angel looked angry. Sam ignored it, his jaw clenching with unsaid words, and kept going.

As they continued to make their bloody way through hell, Sam became increasingly worried as he watched Cas slash and stab his way through demons – the blood dirtying him in streaks of red and darker rusted brown. The closer they got, the worse it became. The angel was no longer killing to be rid of the threat – Cas was killing out of anger and fear. Sam had seen that look on other hunters before and realized Cas was hanging onto sanity by a thread.

The next breath of peace they had, Sam put a hand on his shoulder, "_What?!_" Cas barked at him. Sam stumbled back, recoiling from the angel.

"We'll find him." Sam uttered reassuringly, holding the angel's blue icy stare.

"I know." Cas replied sharply, tearing his shoulder out of Sam's clutch.

"Then what the hell is your problem?" He said louder now. "You're starting to look no different than half the demons here! You need to lose the hate, lose the anger. It won't help us here." Sam breathed the words low in a hiss, trying not to attract attention.

"Because I can hear him… and… _Sam_ –," Cas sucked in a breath, the pain that flashed in his eyes was deep. "It's… he's… he's not him. Not anymore." Cas said, looking down at his feet.

Sam dropped Dean's blade. He wasn't aware of letting it go, but he heard it clatter to the ground. Jody came up behind him. Cale was there beside him, concern etched deep into the tanned lines of his face. Sam stood there, frozen, as he took in Cas' broken words.

"You don't know…" He argued pitifully, his voice lacking the strength to hold up the words. The angel raised his eyes to Sam's – they showed defeat.

"Let's just… get this done." The angel spoke devoid of emotion, turning and walking under a curved archway that held a winding set of stairs.

Sam followed, not even bothering to pick up his knife but he heard the gentle scrape as someone snatched it from the stone floor.

When he reached the top of the stairs, turning the corner, he stopped in his tracks. Cas stood several feet in front of him, the only thing left standing in a large stone room, brown gunk streaked down the walls all around them. Dead bodies of demons lay at the angel's feet. His back to Sam and his front faced the ominous double wood doors burdened with black metal fixtures in patterns across its surface.

Cas waved a hand in the air and the doors splintered into a million pieces rushing out into the air and landing everywhere in tiny heaps of splinters.

Sam heard a gasp behind him from the revealed sight. His own breath had a hard time working its way through his body.

Cas didn't seem to react but walked through the broken entrance into the room.

Sam followed and took everything in at once.

There were no demons except one. His brother stood leaning against the back wall, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest – the picture of ease.

There were several tables around the large square room. They all had bloody corpses on them. Blood on the floor, on the walls… on Dean's hands.

The light was low, but seemed to cast his brother's form in a devilish highlight, seeping from somewhere below – shadowing his features in all the wrong ways.

"Dean." Cas said sharply and the body reacted by standing upright, its eyes flashing black.

"Dearest Castiel, you finally arrive." Abaddon spoke with a tilt of her head, amused it seemed by their presence.

Sam waited for it. He knew what Cas was about to do. He didn't even know if it would work.

Cas didn't respond but walked closer to the demon. "You can hear him can't you?" She sniggered delightfully.

Cas must have cringed and Abaddon leapt at the opening, "Oh, you have! Does it excite you? The rebellious angel that you are – I bet it does." She winked with Dean's eye, and that was when Cas made his move.

The angel powered forward, no doubt using his angel abilities to close the distance. He slammed a palm against Dean's chest, where light surged out in a circular ray of white, the demon screamed and sagged when Cas pulled his hand away.

Dean's body staggered, his hands going out to try and find something to hold onto as though he was no longer used to working his own body. Which was likely the case as Cas had just used his powers to burn an enochian sigil into his brothers chest, something they'd only come across a couple days ago. It held the demon at bay, but it wouldn't hold for long.

"Get away from me!" Dean roared at Cas.

"Dean!?" Sam yelled at his brother, unable to stop himself. The green eyes slowly moved to him, Dean's head shifting to follow the path his eyes had taken, and then he grinned in a slow lift of lips, "Sammy…" He crooned. Sam flinched as reality hit him. _Oh God… no._

Cas turned to give him a rebuking glare before turning back to his brother. "Dean!" Cas snapped to get his attention.

When Dean turned back, he blinked back an emotion that happened so fast, Sam didn't have time to recognize it.

"Kill me." His brother said in a tight-lipped voice. "Kill me now or I will do worse. Kill me or I will kill you – don't think I won't. Or maybe I'll do worse. Yeah… you know I can do worse." His brother smirked and it was more a disgusted smile than anything else.

"If you want to die, I won't stop you –"

"Cas!" Sam yelled but Cas kept speaking.

"—but not here, not like this. You are not allowed to die in some crevice in Hell, give us that. Give us something better than that." Cas voice was cold and detached, but Sam could hear the subtle pain in the way his words were tight and didn't flow right. The angel was teetering as he tried to hold himself together. Sam wasn't doing much better.

Dean stepped forward bringing himself face to face with Cas.

"How are you even going to do that, angel? Drag along the demon with me?" Dean said in a light voice that gave Sam the impulse to vomit up his organs.

"I can push her out." Cas stated, lifting his head to meet Dean's eyes. They looked darker to Sam.

"Maybe I don't want her to leave." Dean said raising a finger to tap Cas on the chin.

"Please, Dean." Sam spoke again, earning another black look from Cas, but he couldn't stop now. "Dean, let us do this. Just say yes." Sam saw Cas glare harder as the words crossed his mouth. Dean eyes narrowed at him before he turned back to Cas.

"Just say yes?" Dean repeated to the angel. "Just _say_ yes…" His smile fell and a sneer took its place. "GET OUT!" He shouted in Cas' face.

"I'm not leaving here without you." For the first time, Cas showed his cards. His voice lilting in sadness; in defeat. And Sam knew that Cas would rot down here if he had to. Dean saw it too, another spark of something flashed across his hardened stare. His skin becoming lax as the hatred softened for a mere second.

"Kill me." Dean repeated, his words no longer containing the sharp steel of evil that they'd had before.

"Only if you let us bring you back." Cas countered and Sam's hand covered his mouth to hold back his protest. He could feel the others behind him, anxious and waiting for something to happen.

"Promise me." Dean spoke through his teeth. "And I swear to you, if you don't own up to that promise – you will regret it." Dean threatened; his lip curling as he forced his energy down over the angel, crowding around him in a malevolent embrace.

"I promise." Cas said and Sam found himself shaking his head. "No.. no no.. Cas, wait. Don't." Sam pleaded and Dean turned to him, just as slow as before. Except this time his features were solemn and wounded, but wholly fatalistic. "If you love me, you will let me go." Dean said and Sam tried to run forward to grasp Dean by the shoulders but three sets of hands held him back.

"No! Dean… _please_!" He cried but Dean ignored him and turned back to Cas.

"Yes." Dean spoke clear and ready, obviously knowing what would happen. He flinched in front of Sam's eyes, his body appearing to fight his words, and he angled his head in warning at Cas. Abaddon was fighting back.

Cas opened his palm and energy from the broken vial flew up into the air and down into Dean.

The light around his brother turned grey and hazy, a wailing could be heard that sounded muffled at first and then it got louder and louder, piercing the air like a blade. Black smoke flooded into the room and there was so much yelling. The constant '_no'_ on repeat was coming from him, he was sure of it. Someone yelled to get out of the way but Sam didn't move. He was bodily shoved onto the ground and couldn't find it in him to react – didn't care if the weight was friend or foe.

"Now!" Someone shouted and a blast of heat lit up like fire against his skin and he scrambled away from it.

Crumbles of stone landed in his hair, on his shoulders, and arms. He blinked his eyes open, dust in a cloud everywhere. Someone was coughing.

As the dust began to clear, Sam could feel pain across his back from getting hit or hitting something. Amidst the rocky cloud, Crowley appeared – his suit ripped to shreds, blood streaming from a cut on the side of his face.

When he locked eyes with Sam, he shouted, "Leave now!" the words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

More dust settled and he saw Cas holding his brother in his arms, standing strong despite the tormented set of his features. His face appeared more broken than Sam had ever seen it – yet there was not one scratch marring the skin.

His brother's body was boneless draped across Cas' outstretched arms. Unconscious or dead, Sam didn't want to know. Jody rushed up to his side, Cale and Maggie in her wake. She was tugging his sleeves, the front of his shirt. Crowley was yelling at them to get out. He kept disappearing and reappearing and Sam wasn't sure if his eyes were failing him or the King of Hell was really coming and going.

Then they were running, his legs moving on reflex now. His brain mostly shutdown and only following basic orders. _Move forward. Run. Breathe. And repeat._

They crossed paths with some of Abaddon's crew and Crowley appeared in front of them and fought. Maggie and Cale sprinted forward and killed alongside the King. Jody stayed back with Sam. Cas and Dean behind him.

When the threat lay in patches of death on the stone floor, Crowley turned back to face them.

"Castiel – can you take some of them?" His accented voice was rushed and urgent.

"Yes." Sam heard the single word and a hand landed heavy on his shoulder. Jody held on tighter and then they were gone.

The air was what he noticed first. Crisp and breathable, Sam sucked in a breath like he was near dying. He squinted into the daylight and took note of the field in front of him. Sam turned around and saw the bunker down the slope.

Cas was in front of him, still holding his brother's slack body.

Air rushed in several directions and Sam turned back to see Crowley looking worse for wear and the rest of their crew – minus Jeff.

"We need to move quickly now." Crowley said looking at Sam significantly. _Oh yes, the second part of the plan – he'd almost forgotten._

Sam turned to face Cale, "You sure you're okay with this?" He asked one last time.

"I've been ready to give those demons the biggest 'fuck you' ever since Hannah, I don't regret nothin'" Cale said, his smile returning. Sam had never met anyone more cowboy than Cale.

Sam nodded. "Okay." He frowned and shared a look with Crowley. "And you?" Before their talk, Sam never would have thought he'd feel concern for the King of Hell – but he did now. And he would after – _especially after._

"I'll.. uhh… see you soon." Crowley said with a worried smile, his eyes glazed. Sam forced a smile, but it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right.

The two disappeared and Sam turned back and walked towards the bunker door, left ajar after Cas had gone inside.

Jody and Maggie, along with the others trailed behind him. Everyone except for Jody went to their cars and left. He didn't say anything to any of them. What was there to say?

Sam's feet carried him through the halls, he felt taller or the bunker felt smaller. When he reached Dean's door, it was open. He took the last step and turned to face into the room.

Cas was standing over the bed. Dean's body was lying on top of the comforter.

"Is he…?" Sam snapped his mouth shut. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't go through Dean's death another time. There was only so much he could take. This was enough. _God, please, don't—_

"No." Cas said softly, not moving his eyes away from their post.

"Will he wake up?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going to kill him?"

He saw Cas shudder slightly. "_No_."

"Will we get him back?" Sam asked the giant question – the one he was just as terrified to ask as the one about whether Dean was dead or not. In some ways, this was worse.

Cas chewed on his lip, his eyes narrowed and glistened. He shrugged and the look on his face said it all. Cas couldn't even say it. The angel looked about ready to break in two. Sam felt a hand in his own, tugging lightly, and he turned his head and looked down at the brown eyes that softly watched him.

"C'mon, Sam." She said pulling him in the direction of his room. He followed her without question leaving his brother and the angel behind. There wasn't much of them left to leave behind anyway.

Ghosts, Sam thought as he was pulled into his own room, they were all ghosts now.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked that one. Lots of action, and more angst and sadness. I wrote this quick, so please review if you have a chance and let me know if there are any mishaps, errors, etc... THANKS :)**


End file.

Supernatural, Hurt-Comfort, Tragedy