Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes late at night Dean remembered his first real patrol. Oh, he'd backed up his dad plenty of nights before then, he'd been doing that in one way or another since before he could read, but that was the first night with a mask, a costume matching his father's, the whole thing. He'd even campaigned for a cape but the Hunter had never really been that kind of super.

Dean had just turned thirteen. John Winchester had sat him on a rooftop and pointed him at a nearby alley, crossing his arms as he told Dean to point out every clue he could find, mundane and demon sign both. Passing one of his father's exacting tests had been the highlight of his young life. Just then Dean couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't patrolling the streets of Lawrence City right next to his father, keeping the streets safe night after night. Maybe even taking over the name someday, the way he knew sons and sidekicks had done in other cities. Continue the family business.

Was Dean ever glad his old man wasn't alive to see him now.

Dean pressed one hand against the brick wall, right against the fault line only his eyes could see. “Are you sure?” he heard from behind, the words sliding through the air like an oil slick.

Dean gritted his teeth for a moment until the wave of irritation passed. He didn't know why Alastair even bothered to ask that after all this time. He was always sure.

He took a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes as he pictured the fault line in his mind. He hissed the air out between his teeth as he imagined that fault expanding. Dean didn't know where the power came from. He barely knew how to touch it; every time he tried this he hoped this would be the time it sputtered out like a bad engine, this was the time he would open his eyes to find himself just as ordinary and useless as any other human.

He felt something kindle in his chest, sending blue and red sparks in front of his eyes. Like someone trapped in a nightmare Dean opened his eyes and watched a hazy line appear in the brick wall just where his forsaken sixth sense had told him it would. The wind picked up, pulling at his jacket and tearing at his hair; he set his jaw and braced himself, tapping the fire building in his chest until the line widened into a yawning chasm.

Dean lurched forward one step before Alastair's vice grip wrapped around his arm. “Very good,” Dean heard, the slithery voice barely audible over the howling coming from the open portal. “Keep it open a few more seconds.”

This was when it always started to hurt. He heard Alastair chanting behind him, then there was a bright flash of light and an overwhelming rush of energy. Tendrils of hellfire reached from the edges of the portal and wrapped around his arm; Dean bit his lip to keep from screaming, tasting blood before Alastair tapped his shoulder. “Good boy. Shut it now.”

Dean shut the portal with a thought and sank down to his knees, watching the hellfire settle into this veins like black poison. “You've gotten much better at that,” Alastair said, as if that was any kind of compliment. “The first time we did this you were out cold for two days.”

“You ever gonna tell me what we're doing this for?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Dean didn't. Dean didn't want to know anything about it. He'd managed to get the promise that no people were dying because of what they were doing and he didn't even know whether to trust that. “How long until we have to do this again?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” Alastair said, his eyes still milky white the way they always were after a ritual. “It's not an exact science.” He blinked, his eyes going now so normal that if anyone hadn't known what he was they would never have guessed. “This year has just flown by, hasn't it?”

As far as Dean was concerned the next two months couldn't go by fast enough. “Show me Sam.”

Alastair made a little tsk-tsk sound. “You always get in the mood after an outing. He's in suspended animation, it can't possibly be this fascinating.”

“Show me anyway.”

Alastair shook his head, snapping his fingers to show a shimmering image of Sam curled up on the floor of what looked like a cave, like the ones outside of town where they used to lay low when Commissioner Hendrickson would get on one of his anti-vigilante kicks. Dean knew Sam was nowhere near Lawrence though; the only way to get to him was through a portal like the one he'd just closed and he'd better open it damn close or Dean knew he'd burn like a roman candle before reaching him.

Dean nodded and Alastair closed the window. “Satisfied now?”

Dean nodded again and Alastair patted his shoulder with the kind of fond, parental approval Dean once would have killed himself to get from his father. “I have to go, no rest for the wicked,” he said, smiling hat his own terrible joke. “Unless you'd like to come with me?”

Dean waved him off. “Go, I'm fine.”

Alastair smiled like a self-satisfied snake. “Now stay out of trouble. We don't want to have to spirit you away from the police a second time.”

Dean shook his head, sick guilt washing over him. He'd give anything to have to worry about Hendrickson breathing down his neck again. “You know I will.”

Alastair patted his shoulder again and disappeared in the time it took Dean to blink. Dean crumpled down against the brick of the alleyway, trying to breathe through the stench of sulfur hanging in the air. “Two months, Sammy,” he whispered, hugging his knees to his chest. “Two more months and we get you back.”

He'd pushed up his sleeves to open the portal and there was a red ring of inflamed skin where Alastair had grabbed him, like a mild sunburn. A demon's touch burned humans, third degree burns if the touch was glancing all the way up to catching fire if the demon held on tight.

Dean's burn didn't even hurt. He closed his hand into a fist and then splayed his fingers, watching as hellfire circled his hand like he'd been born with it.

Amazing how much could change in just five years.

***

Castiel crouched on the ledge of the building and watched his target move far below. He hadn't been prepared for how drastically his vision would be affected by taking a body; the day before he had been able to see the twisting colors of a nebula from star systems away, and now he was having trouble discerning detail from several dozen feet up. “Are you sure?” he heard Uriel say, standing over him and sounding bored by the whole endeavor.

Or at least Castiel thought it sounded like boredom. He wasn't very practiced at tone of voice yet, either. “Of course I am,” he said, wondering why Uriel had even asked. “I know my assignment.” He looked up. “Or were you joking?”

“No,” Uriel sighed, crouching beside him. “Although I'm starting to feel like this mission might be one.” Castiel rolled his shoulders, barely realizing he'd done it, and Uriel clapped him on the back in a way he knew was a show of camaraderie. “It does take a while to adjust, doesn't it.”

Castiel flexed his hand, his mind still not quite convinced it was his now. “I wish they'd given me a day to acclimate. At least.”

“It took us long enough to find the source of all this, no one wants to waste more time.” Uriel nodded down to the small form below. “So, what do you think of him?”

Castiel felt his lips purse, a far away part of his mind noting what an interesting reflex that was. “I think Dean Winchester is very dangerous.”

Uriel smiled, the expression seeming both grim and approving. “I don't think there's a soul in the universe who would disagree with you, brother.”

Castiel wished part of his orders had been to stop the portal. He could feel how much weaker the walls between this dimension and the one the demons called Hell were now, a wrongness that crept up his borrowed spine. He just wished he knew why the demons were doing this. If this was all preparation for an invasion he hoped that more than just one garrison would have been sent.

“At least it's a simple assignment,” Uriel said, breaking into his thoughts. “End him and we can all go home.”

“Stop him,” Castiel said softly. “My orders are to stop him, you know that.”

He may only have been in a human body for less than a day but he could interpret Uriel rolling his eyes very easily. “You always have to make everything complicated.”

“And you always think brute force is the answer.”

“Give me one example when it wasn't the answer.”

“Not always the best answer, then.” Uriel...smirked, Castiel thought was the word. This was an old argument and he felt this strange world get a little more stable under his feet at indulging in it again.

“Someone who sells themselves to the demons can't be redeemed, Castiel.”

Dean was moving. Castiel saw him pick himself up from the ground, looking around furtively with his hands in his pockets as he left the alley. Castiel stood, tracking Dean's movements as he left the alley. “I intend to find out whether that's true.”

***

At first Castiel thought this wasn't going to be a very enlightening vigil. Dean had entered a...motel, was the word written on the sign and stayed there for hours, long past midday. The sun had begun to set and Castiel had begun to wonder if this was a waste of time when Dean emerged again, his hood up over a black cowl covering the top half of his face. Castiel crossed his arms over his knees, leaning forward on his perch. The mask looked very much like the one Castiel knew his father had once worn. What are you doing, Dean?

Dean climbed some scaffolding attached to the side of the building until he made it to the roof; Castiel retreated back into shadow but Dean didn't spot him. Not that he'd been looking, which struck Castiel as a bit careless; instead Dean was making a scan of the street below, looking from each side of the building before making a running leap onto a roof a few feet away. Castiel made sure to follow, the task admittedly made easier by being able to fly across the distances instead of scrambling for them the way Dean did. Castiel suspected that Dean would call what he was doing teleporting but being able to stretch his wings was a relief, even as insubstantial as they were in this form.

This went on for the better part of an hour. Castiel realized Dean was moving in a grid across the city, stopping at good vantage points, listening for a few minutes, then moving on. It was clearly something he'd done many times before.

Castiel just couldn't fathom why.

They both heard the shrill cry in the same instant. Castiel wasn't sure what it meant but he saw Dean stiffen, his head turning toward the sound; when it came again, this time wordless and panicked, Dean was off like a shot. Castiel caught up with him just in time to see Dean drop himself down from a window ledge to a filthy alleyway, landing just behind a man standing over a cowering woman and holding an enormous handgun. The man pulled his hand back to strike the woman and Castiel saw Dean's hands clench into fists. “Hey! Scumbag!” Dean said, catching the man off guard.

The man spun around, pointing the gun at Dean. From his perch above Castiel could see the muzzle of the gun shaking; the man wore a cloth mask to obscure his face but Castiel's eyes were still keen enough to see his pupils were pinpoints. Castiel readied himself; he wasn't sure if he could beat the bullet if the man fired now but he certainly intended to try. “The fuck are you supposed to be?” the man said, spitting at Dean.

“Who do I look like?” Dean said, flicking his hood back off his head. Castiel was astonished to see that he was smiling.

The man paused for a moment, then his lips curled into a sneer. “You're dressed like the Hunter but you ain't him. Sonofabitch is dead. Demons ate his heart right outta his chest.”

Dean's expression grew very cold. Until now his hands had been in his pockets; Castiel saw Dean raise his right hand and snap his fingers open. Black and red hellfire danced around his open palm and then Dean smiled. “If that's true you should be a little more scared of me.”

Castiel could see the man was in fact very scared now. He backed up against the alley wall as Dean extended his arm; before Castiel could even blink a column of hellfire shot out of his palm, reaching out like something living. At first Castiel thought it was going to envelope the criminal and braced to act; the man may be a scumbag as Dean called him but nothing in creation deserved that kind of death. Then to Castiel's astonishment the fire impacted the wall to the right of the man's head, missing him by inches. Castiel didn't even think he was singed.

Dean took advantage of the moment grab the man by his collar. “There's a police station a block away,” Dean said, his voice a low growl. “You turn yourself in or the next time I don't miss.” Dean let him go and the man took off running. Dean watched him go but didn't follow. Castiel wondered if he was actually going to do what Dean had said.

Dean shook his head, turning his attention to the woman. “Miss? You okay?”

She sprang up and wrapped her arms around Dean's neck, the surprise enough to stagger him back a few steps. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she said; Dean just nodded, his hands out at his sides and what Castiel could only call acute terror in his eyes.

“Okay, um. You can...you can let go.” Dean said, not moving like he'd been frozen in place. The woman did let go but instead of stepping away leaned in for a kiss.

Dean backpedaled so quickly he almost fell. “Don't!” When the woman paused, confusion obvious on her face, Dean shoved both hands into his pockets and backed away another step. “I can't. I...I'll get kicked out of the...um, superhero union. Class A offense.”

The woman smiled, although if that was a joke Castiel had to confess he didn't get it. She took a pen and slip of paper out of her bag and wrote something on it. “Well, take this. For if you're ever out of the 'superhero union.'” Dean did take it, albeit very gingerly. “Thank you. Again.”

The woman left the alley then; as soon as she was out of sight Dean slumped against the wall and tossed the paper to the ground, letting Castiel see the writing had been some kind of number. He balled his hands into fists and took several deep, slow breaths; Castiel hadn't noticed before but there were still sparks of hellfire circling his fingers, creating a faint sulfur tinge to the air Castiel could taste. After a few minutes the effect subsided and Dean straightened up, pulling his hood back up and making his way back up to the roof to continue the night.

Castiel decided to follow.

***

The only other excitement that night came hours later, and Castiel could tell right away it was of a very different kind. For one thing, this time the source of the excitement went out of their way to find Dean before he could find them.

And to be even more perplexing, they were wearing the most peculiar costumes. For what felt like the thousandth time that night Castiel wished his superiors gave more in depth briefings before sending soldiers out into the field.

There were four of them, all dressed in green suits with purple trim and narrow masks covering their eyes. From what Castiel could see Dean wasn't impressed with either their numbers or their fashion sense. “Oh dammit, not you guys again.”

“Boss said he wanted you out of town,” one of them said. Castiel supposed he was supposed to be the ringleader. They paced around Dean in a loose circle. “He asked real nice and everything.”

“Trickster's got something to say to me, he can come himself. I told you guys already I don't speak goon.”

“Lawrence is Trickster territory. No one operates in his town without his permission.”

That made Dean's lip curl into a snarl. “I was born in this city. Someone wants to kick me out of it, they'd better come bringing a hell of a fight.” With that he summoned the hellfire, making it surround his closed fists. “So what's it gonna be?”

That seemed to give two of them some pause. The other two attacked Dean in a rush; in response the hellfire circled around them, forcing them to pull to a short stop but not actually touching them. Dean tumbled backward to the lip of the alley, gesturing to create a sheet of flame that shielded him from his strange attackers. From his vantage point Castiel saw Dean tug on a pair of black gloves, then he gestured again and the flame surrounded him in a thin circle. “Well, c'mon then,” he said, with the second genuine smile Castiel had seen on his face all night. “Bring it.”

And they did, if “bring it” in fact meant “charge to attack and then get punched in the face.” Dean's technique was unsophisticated but extremely effective; using the swirling fire to keep the...goons, Dean had called them, off-balance he then attacked with quick jabs, making sure to maneuver them so only one or two could directly attack at any one time. Castiel could always appreciate a demonstration of tactics and this was turning out to be a very good one.

It was all too much for two of the goons, who took off running at the first opportunity. When they ran out Dean smirked at the remaining pair, hands up in a beckoning gesture. “Two down.”

That had been overconfident. The one in front of Dean punched him square in the mouth, splitting his lip; Dean staggered backward and his partner slipped past, locking Dean's arms behind his back. The first goon punched Dean again, snapping his head back from the impact. “Not so mouthy now, are ya?”

“Trust me, you guys do not want to keep pissing me off.”

“Yeah kid, 'cause you're in any position to make threats.” He punched Dean in the stomach hard enough to double him over. “Man, look what you did!” he said, showing off the torn and bloody knuckles of his glove. “You made me rip my new gloves, you little punk.”

Dean's eyes went wide as he watched the goon pull the gloves off his hands. “Don't do that.”

“Shaddup.” The man backhanded Dean across the face and let out a bloodcurdling scream. He fell back holding his hand; even from a distance Castiel could see the whole hand was red and blistered where he'd touched Dean. “What did you do?”

“I warned you.” Dean almost sounded like he was about to start crying.

The man looked up at Dean, all of his former arrogance replaced by horror. “What are you?”

Dean broke the grip of the man holding him, kicking hard at the goon's shin as he rolled away. The man didn't bother pursuing him, instead going over to assist his partner. Dean summoned his fire again, making it wreath around him. “I don't know. Why don't you tell me what you think I am?” He walked over to the injured man, looming over him. “C'mon. Hit me again. Free shot.” When neither moved Dean shot the flames near their heads, just as he'd done with the mugger earlier. “Get out.”

The two scrambled to their feet, backing away from Dean toward the open street. The uninjured one was slower and Dean grabbed him by his costume lapels. “You tell your boss I'm not going anywhere. And you tell him what I am.” He let the man go and watched them escape.

As soon as the two were out of sight the cold rage faded. With a gesture the fire was gone and Dean crumpled against the alley wall, his head in his hands. After a few moments of silence Dean got to his feet in an explosive burst, hurling one of the nearby metal garbage cans against the wall as he stalked away.

***

It was almost dawn by the time Dean felt like he had himself back under control. He had to be better than that; if his father had seen two completely pathetic goons get the better of him like that he probably would have joined in on kicking Dean's ass. He'd gotten too used to relying on the hellfire to scare people; that was all well and good but an equally big part of patrolling was knowing when you keep your mouth shut and just punch.

Dean tried to put the night aside as he ducked into an alley to cut across town back to the hotel. His lip hurt and he'd pulled something in his shoulder; all he wanted to do was get back to his bed, cover himself in ice packs and sleep for the next twelve hours. He hoped he wouldn't get called for a week or so, at least until his face wasn't a swollen mess. Last thing he wanted was having to explain that to Alastair.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean stopped in his tracks. That wasn't Alastair's voice.

That wasn't Alastair's voice and no one else should know his name.

Dean turned around slowly; the only other person in the alley was a normal looking guy, dark haired and a little shorter than Dean. The voice he'd heard had been a deep rasp and it didn't look like it could come from this guy. “Who are you?”

“Explain your activities tonight.”

“What's it to you?”

The man raised his chin, staring Dean down. “Explain.”

Dean took a closer look, trying to figure out this guy's deal. He wasn't dressed like a henchman, just in a jeans and hoodie and a....

A small cut crystal vial on a chain that glowed with light.

Oh. Oh, God.

The man...no, Dean corrected himself, the thing narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You know what I am.”

Dean nodded. His mouth was too dry to speak for a few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, you're an angel.”

As if to confirm Dean's suspicions the thing's eyes glowed with white light. Energy crackled around him, arcing over his shoulders and casting the shadows of enormous wings across the ground. “My name is Castiel,” he said, the power in that voice holding Dean down to the ground like a pair of stakes. “Answer me.”

“I....” Dean had no idea what this thing wanted him to say. “I patrol every night. Every night I can.”

The light show faded but the impression of power was still there in the blue eyes examining him. “Why?”

“I've been doing that since I was a kid.”

“So it's merely habit, then.”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head. “That's not what I meant.”

Castiel walked up to within an arm's length of him. “You willingly serve the demons. You use your power to weaken the boundaries between your world and theirs to the extent that you're infected by hellfire.”

“That's why I do it!” Castiel seemed surprised by that outburst. Even Dean wasn't sure where that had come from. “Look, my dad didn't have any powers but he still went out on patrol every night because he knew what was out there. Because someone had to. If I've got a power I gotta do at least that much.” Dean shook his head. “People don't know it's hellfire. Fire control's not that weird a power and I make sure I don't burn anyone.”

Castiel seemed to take a moment to consider that. “You could have killed those men tonight. Why didn't you?”

“I don't kill people. That's not how this is supposed to go.” Dean swallowed hard. “You're an angel. You guys, you kill demons, right?”

Castiel nodded once. “Yes.”

“And you've been sent here to kill me. Right?”

“Yes.”

Well, then. Dean felt like they stood there staring at each other for a thousand years. “So...are you gonna kill me or not?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, studying Dean like he could flay Dean right down to his soul. “Not yet.”

Dean heard a strange sound, like the wingbeat of an enormous bird. When he blinked his eyes Castiel was gone.

Chapter Text

Dean paused at the shuttered up newsstand, taking the second to catch his breath. It was just past midnight and the patrol so far had been pretty quiet; the temperature had been dropping the past few nights and there weren't as many people out on the streets. He doubted he'd get any real action for a couple hours yet, when the clubs downtown let out.

Dean leaned against the stand and looked up. The buildings in this area weren't all that tall but fog was doing a good job of obscuring the roofs – which didn't mean Dean didn't know his very determined tail was still up there somewhere, just that he couldn't see the guy. “Dude,” Dean called out. “Are we gonna do this all night? This is starting to be a problem for me.”

He heard that sound of wings and before he could blink Castiel was right there, inches from his face. “Fuck,” Dean said, involuntarily taking a step back. “Don't do that.”

“How long have you known I was following you?”

Dean sighed. “About three hours now. How long have you been at it?” Castiel looked away. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Why're you following me?”

“I'm evaluating you. I didn't think you'd detect me, you didn't the first time.”

“I didn't know to look for you the first time. And I had other things on my mind.” Dean dared taking a step closer. “So, what's it gonna be? You gonna kill me now?”

Castiel took just long enough answering that Dean felt a bead of sweat slide down his back, cold night or not. “No.”

“Good,” Dean said, the word shaking more than he'd expected. “Look, if you're gonna follow me around, at least be useful about it. I could use some backup a hell of a lot more than a stalker.”

Castiel's brow furrowed. “You want me to...assist you?”

“Yeah. At least that way if you're hanging around you won't be in my way.” The idea had come to Dean at about the two hour mark; he wasn't sure if the angel would go for it, but at least if he did Dean would have the guy in front of him instead of waiting for the smite from on high.

Castiel studied Dean for what felt like ages. “All right. I'm willing to be your partner in....”

“We're not partners.” The words came out in a snarl; Castiel took a step back, clearly not sure where any of that had come from. Hell, Dean wasn't all that sure himself. “This is a team up, at best. This....” Dean let out a long breath. “My dad was my patrol partner,” he said, studying a crack in the pavement. “Or I was his, really, I was the sidekick. The only person I'd ever call my partner is Sam when he's old enough. I barely know you. And you're gonna kill me someday, so it's not like this is a long term thing.”

“I haven't killed you yet.”

“Yeah, I'm just being honest with myself here.” Dean took a step back, looking Castiel up and down with a critical eye. What he was wearing couldn't pass as a costume, just a normal gray hoodie and jeans, but it wasn't like Dean was decked out in anything better. “We gotta cover up your face,” he finally said. “Everyone wears masks, that's just how it goes. And you gotta have...I don't know, a symbol, some kind of power show. Everyone knows my mask, and if they don't I got the hellfire.”

Castiel's brows had been furrowing closer and closer together the entire time Dean had been talking. “What...kind of symbol?”

Dean shrugged. “I don't know. You're an angel, work off that.”

Castiel tilted his head again for a moment, then he stepped close to Dean, pressing two fingers against Dean's temple before he could even think to react. For an instant Dean thought he might have annoyed Castiel into killing him after all, but after a few seconds all that happened was Castiel stepping back with what sounded alarmingly close to a chuckle. “Your mythology is fascinating.” He lifted his chin up, closing his eyes for a moment, then white light obscured his face like a glowing mask with more light arching over his shoulders like wings made of lightning. “Would this do?”

It took Dean a full second to realize he'd been spoken to and a few extra to remember how speech worked well enough to respond. “Yeah. Yeah, guess that'd do.” The lighting wings even looked like they had feathers; it was all Dean could do to keep himself from touching them to find out for sure. “That's um...that's not what I thought they would look like from their shadows.”

“It's a reasonable facsimile,” Castiel said. “We exist in more dimensions than you do.” He nodded to Dean. “Shall we begin, then?”

***

Guy came in handy, Dean had to give him that much credit. The club crowds were even rowdier than usual that night but with Castiel there Dean could face down groups he'd never dream of taking on by himself, those big rumbles he's normally not even thinking about without at least five other people at his back. It was amazing how much firepower real superpowers brought to the table; twice Dean saw crooks break their fists on Castiel's face, with the angel not doing more than rolling with the punch and looking bored. The teleportation or flying or whatever it was he did knocked everyone they fought off balance; no one with that power set had been active in Lawrence for decades and none of the criminals they'd tied up in neat bows for the cops that night had known how to counter it. It was almost like fighting a speedster; Castiel could seem to be everywhere at once, in your sights one instant and behind you watching you punch empty air the next.

Dean was so screwed. He'd hoped that inviting Castiel to join him on patrol would let him know some of the angel's weaknesses but the first time he saw Castiel pick a three hundred pound mugger up with one hand and toss him across an alley Dean knew there was no winning this fight. As the night wore on he'd given up trying to calculate how strong Castiel was. At least as strong as a demon, and even the weakest of those could pop Dean's head like a grape if they ever decided that sounded like a good time. Dean knew Castiel had been serious when he'd said he was here to kill Dean but he'd hoped he would at least have a puncher's chance.

It was just before dawn and they were catching their breath after mopping up a gang of jewel thieves – well, Dean was catching his breath, Castiel hadn't broken a sweat all night. Dean pushed his cowl up over his face and draped his arms over the fire escape. “You can tone down the light show now, we should be done for the night.” Castiel tilted his head, like he didn't understand what Dean meant for a moment, then the glow shimmered away. Dean couldn't help staring at Castiel, trying to see an echo of all that power in his now ordinary face, then he forced himself to look down into the alley below. “So what's the deal with you guys, anyway?”

“I don't understand what you mean.”

Dean sighed. “You guys call yourself angels but you're not really, right? You're from...I don't know, space or something.”

“Another dimension, to be more specific. Similar but different from the demons. And we didn't start calling ourselves angels, humans named us that when they first met us.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean flicked a dry leaf away from the railing. “You guys didn't exactly fall all over yourselves correcting us.”

Castiel only shrugged. “It was expedient.”

“But what is your deal? Why are you guys even here?”

“We've been at war with the demons for longer than your race has mastered language. It's been at a stalemate for a very long time – they open new fronts, we contain them. We believe they've been eradicated, one escapes and gathers reinforcements.”

Dean was surprised Castiel had told him that much. Seeing the guy so frustrated almost made Dean forget what he was talking to. “Thanks for deciding to bring all that here.”

“We aren't the ones who brought this conflict to your world, Dean. Thank your friends for that.” Dean turned away, his face burning. When Castiel spoke again his tone was softer. “This world is a crosspoint. The walls between the dimension we're standing in and the one the demons call Hell are very thin. The demons want to erase that wall, for their realm to devour the others. For every where to be Hell. Your world is unfortunate enough to be a very good starting point.”

“How do they plan to do that, anyway?”

Castiel almost smiled. “The same way they have in every likely world they've found. They find someone to do it for them.” When Castiel's eyes cut toward him Dean wished he could slip through the fire escape grating and melt away. “Every time you open a portal you weaken the walls. You haven't done permanent damage yet but you need to stop.”

Dean clenched his hands around the railing until he felt his fingers start to go numb. “I can't.”

Castiel sighed. “Why do you serve them, Dean? What have they offered you? Usually their victims are promised wealth or power or a place of privilege in the world they're creating. I don't believe any of that would be enough to sway you.”

“Dude, you've known me a day.”

“Am I wrong?” When Dean didn't answer Castiel pressed his advantage. “So what did they promise you?”

Dean shook his head. “You wouldn't understand.”

Castiel stared him down for a few a more seconds, then looked back down into the alley. “Know they lie, Dean. They always lie.”

“Drop it.” Dean was not going to cry in front of this thing. It took a few minutes to get his emotions back under control, but he made damn sure his next words came out steady. “What's the deal with the thing around your neck? Is that where the powers come from, like those power ring guys?”

“Are you trying to discern my weaknesses, Dean?” Castiel didn't sound the slightest bit alarmed by that – hell, Dean thought he actually sounded amused. He held up the little vial, the light in it almost bright enough to make Dean look away. “This is a spark of Grace. A shard of my true form. And no, it's not a power source, it's merely symbolic. Think of it as a mark of office, or a badge.”

Dean reached one hand toward the little vial, expecting Castiel pull it away until the last instant. The smooth crystal was warm to the touch. “So that's you in there?”

“A piece of me.”

Dean let the vial drop and wondered when this conversation had gotten so weird. “Why do you look like people if you're made of light?”

“We can't operate in this dimension in our true forms, we can exist but not interact. We need to take human vessels.”

“Vessels.” Castiel's head turned in surprise at the disgust in Dean's voice. “So you are wearing some poor idiot.” Dean couldn't believe he'd touched any part of this thing. “You're no better than the demons.”

“That's not true.” Dean didn't know if Castiel really believed that or if he just really wanted Dean to believe it. “Demons steal their bodies. We don't act without permission, we can't.”

“You really want me to believe this guy you're in agreed to this?”

“Yes.”

“What did he agree to, huh? You're all high and mighty about me working for the demons, what did you promise this guy?”

“I didn't....”

“When you're done playing around and finally kill me, does that schmoe get to go back to his life?” Castiel looked away. “That's what I thought.”

Castiel was quiet for a long time, long enough for the dawn to start breaking. “What would you have me say, Dean?”

Dean didn't know himself. “This guy you're walking around in. He married? Got a kid or two who'll never see him again?”

Castiel's lips went thin. “I don't know.”

It was a strange change, Castiel not being able to meet his eyes. “If my dad was alive you'd be the kind of thing he'd hunt.” Dean drummed his fingers against the railing. “Not that it would do any good, big thing made of light and all.”

“We can die.” Castiel turned to look at him, head tilted. “Is that what you would like, Dean?”

Dean was spared from having to answer by movement in the alley below. “Hey, look,” he said, tapping Castiel's arm. “Looks like the night's not over after all.” There were three men conferring below, not affiliated with any of the big groups from what Dean could see. The building across the way was a bank, one of those little credit unions, and one of the guys had just placed what looked alarmingly like a bomb right at the back door. “Let's go, we're on.”

Castiel was ahead of him, his face hidden again and the light wings arching over his shoulders. Before Dean could blink Castiel was down in the alleyway tapping one of the thieves on the shoulder. “You shouldn't do that.” The thief took a swing at Castiel, landing a solid punch right in the mouth. Dean winced in sympathy when the man reeled back holding his wrist.

Dean jumped down to join the fight, flooring the goon who'd hung back. One down. Castiel had the other one well in hand so Dean straightened back up, looking for the third. Dean turned around right into the barrel of a gun. He hadn't even noticed they were armed. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dean had time to take one step back before the thief smiled and fired.

Dean closed his eyes. He heard three shots, bang-bang-bang.

It took a second to realize there no pain. He opened his eyes to see Castiel standing in front of him; Castiel grabbed the thief's wrist and twisted, the sharp crack turning Dean's stomach. “Leave this place,” Castiel said, hurling the thief into his three friends. “Leave this city. Do not ever let me find you here again.” The three thieves hesitated for a second, looking at each other to see if anyone would work up the nerve to try something, then Castiel took a step forward.

That was all he needed. The three broke and fled, dragging their injured buddy after them when he fell. Castiel turned away, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

That was when Dean saw the blood streaming down Castiel's chest. “Shit. I mean...yeah, I'm fine, Cas, just....” He touched one of the bullet holes, his hand coming back bloody. “Are you okay?”

Castiel looked down, as if he'd only just noticed. “I'm fine. It'll heal shortly.”

“Why did you do that?”

“If someone is going to pass judgment on you it will be me and no one else.” He looked up at the lightening sky. “It's time for us to part, I think.”

“Hey,” Dean said as Castiel was turning away. “Look, I...I don't want you dead, okay? I just want everyone to leave us alone.”

Castiel nodded. “I wish we could.”

“Yeah.” Dean heard that wing flutter sound start and grabbed Castiel's arm before he could disappear. “Same time tonight. Don't be late.”

“Why?”

“You're gonna run around in that body, you gotta earn it,” Dean said, poking his shoulder. “You know my reason for doing this, now that's yours. You got me?”

Castiel lifted his chin, a hint of a smile on his face. “Tonight, then.” Then there was that sound of wings and Castiel was gone.

***

“I can't help but notice that Dean Winchester is still alive.”

Castiel should have known this progress report wouldn't be as short as he might have hoped. “Uriel, if you have something you want to say just come out with it.”

“I was just making an observation. You're much more easily offended lately.”

Castiel supposed that was true. “I have more trouble discerning when you're joking than when we're home.”

“Not that he's very funny there, either.” Castiel gave Balthazar a warning glance as Uriel let out that low chuckle he was learning meant his brother was far from amused. Not that Balthazar paid either of them any heed, being on Earth just seemed amplify his taste for irreverence. “But it is a good point, why is Winchester still kicking around?”

“Castiel likes him. We're here talking in broad daylight because he has a full night planned helping Winchester cleanse the streets of sinners and ne'er do wells.”

“I do enjoy that,” Castiel admitted. “It's...uncomplicated. There's a clear, black and white goal to be met and you see the immediate results of your actions. It reminds me of the way the garrison used to hunt demons directly instead of all...this,” he said, gesturing around them.

“You were born to be a foot soldier,” Uriel said, and if he meant it as an insult Castiel wasn't inclined to take it as one. And as if to take any sting out of his words Uriel clapped him on the shoulder. “And before you lecture me about telling you how to run your missions, let me be the first to say I don't care how long you play with Winchester. Indulge in all the hobbies you like, just check in with our superiors on schedule so they don't contact me to find you.”

Castiel crossed his arms over his knees, looking down into the alley below to distract himself from the heat crawling up his cheeks. “Thank you for covering for me.”

Uriel waved that away. “I don't like anyone breathing down my neck about missions either.” His expression grew serious. “But don't play too long. These are dangerous times. I won't be able to relax until we're back home.” He let out a deep sigh. “And now it's time for me to go back on the clock, as the humans would say.”

“What is your mission, Uriel? You haven't said anything about it.”

“More confidential than yours, I'm afraid. Did you know there's a betting pool going on about when you'll finally rid us of Winchester? Balthazar introduced the concept to the garrison.”

Castiel turned to glare but Balthazar only shrugged. “What can I say? The humans do have the occasional good idea.”

“Are you in on it?” Castiel asked, turning back to Uriel and deciding to ignore Balthazar entirely for the moment.

“Indeed I am.”

“What was your bet?”

“Oh, it's bad luck to talk about it.” Castiel thought he saw the smile slip away from his face for a moment, then Uriel put his hand on Castiel's shoulder again. “Although in this one instance I'll be glad not to win.” With that he flew off to whatever business was concerning him, leaving Castiel to ponder what on earth that might mean.

He didn't consider it very long, giving it up as another misreceived joke. “You've been quiet,” he said, hoping Balthazar would take the opening as intended. He'd known Balthazar more than long enough to recognize when his brother had trouble to talk through.

“We found another one.”

It felt like when those criminals had shot him a few days earlier. “No.”

Balthazar nodded. “In a warehouse in the industrial district. No body, charred impression of wings, just like all the others. Looked to be there around three or four days,” he said, giving Castiel a very significant look.

Castiel looked away, not able to return it. “I can't believe there's a connection.”

“Cassie, don't be an idiot, of course there's a connection.”

“Portals were being opened before any of the murders started.”

“By our count there's been twelve portals and six of us dead, and each time a murder happened it was the same time as an opening. First it was one for every three, then one for every two and lately it's been a solid one for one. Look at that and tell me there's no connection.”

Castiel wanted to deny that terrible logic and couldn't. “But none of the murders have been anywhere near the portal openings.” That was the most vexing detail; a portal released enough energy that it could kill one of them if place properly. “Did you find a weapon at the site?”

“No,” Balthazar admitted, shaking his head. “We still don't know how they're doing it. But I'm starting to develop a working theory as to who.”

“It's not Dean.” No evidence Balthazar could show him would ever convince him of that. “He's not a murderer. He's not capable of it.”

“Capable of opening portals to Hell but not murder? He is an unusual one.”

“I know how that sounds. It's true nonetheless.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, the clearest you're being an idiot look on his face Castiel knew he would ever see. “Whether he did himself or not, he's part of this. End him and wrap up your mission so you can help me with mine.”

It took a very long time for Castiel to bring himself to answer. “I can't. Stop,” he said, throwing up one hand to cut off any more argument. “I know what you're about to say and I know you're right but I still can't. There's something I'm missing with Dean. He's not acting out of free will but I don't know how the demons are compelling him. I can't make any judgment until I do.”

He wished Balthazar would be angry at him. It would be easier than seeing his normally reckless brother this afraid. “What he's doing is killing us, Castiel.”

“Not him.” Castiel drummed his fingers on the ledge, considering that. “The demon perhaps, but not him.”

Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. “The demon? We've never found one that powerful.”

Castiel could only shrug. “It's a possibility.”

Balthazar shook his head. “If there's even a chance of it being Winchester we have to act.”

Balthazar said we but Castiel heard the you loud and clear. “But what if we're wrong?” He remembered Dean facing him that first night, terror and self-loathing hiding behind that paper-thin bravado. “I can't sacrifice him for a theory. Not even at these stakes.” Castiel closed his eyes. “I've never met someone in more pain than Dean Winchester.”

“And you have to save him.”

“If I can.” He flexed his hand, staring down at his borrowed palm. “I've had my perspective...challenged recently,” he said softly. “I have some things I need to prove, even if only to myself.” He looked up at Balthazar. “Can you forgive me for that?”

Balthazar just rolled his eyes. “Don't be stupid,” he said and Castiel could feel him concede defeat. “I wish I'd gotten your assignment and you mine. Winchester would have been done with in a day.”

“Perhaps that's why you didn't,” Castiel said. Balthazar put a tremendous amount of effort into looking offended. “And I'd be terrible at yours. You're the best in the garrison at discovering things you shouldn't.” Castiel almost added that so many of the thieves he and Dean had stopped over the past few days would do well to take lessons from Balthazar but realized his brother probably wouldn't appreciate the compliment. “Be careful.”

“I'm not the one spending all my time with demon spawn,” he countered, and Castiel heard the You too buried there. He sat with Castiel for a few more minutes before flying off, leaving Castiel to watch the sunset alone.

***

It was actually bugging Dean a little now much he liked patrolling with Castiel. With the angel flying them around they could cover the whole city in one night, doing even better than when he and his dad would split up to try the same thing. He'd dusted off the souped up police scanner they used to use back then and nine times out of ten he and Cas had the crooks cuffed and ready for pick up before the cops even made it on the scene. The night before they'd even busted up one of Doc Benton's underground labs; the mad scientists of the world weren't the type you ever took on without backup, too many goons hopped up on who knew what chemicals. With Castiel there the job had been a breeze.

Dean had introduced the angel to beer after that. It felt weird, getting drunk with his own executioner, but wrapping up a mad scientist for Lawrence City's Finest felt worthy of a toast. Not that he'd managed to get Castiel drunk. Dean thought he might spring for whiskey next time and see how well that worked.

That he was even thinking along the lines of next time threw Dean. That first night Dean hadn't been sure Castiel would show; it had almost been a dare, trying to see how much he could sass the guy before Castiel incinerated him already. Dean usually slept during the day but he hadn't been able to close his eyes, wondering what had possessed him to invite Castiel to be within arm's reach of him for another night.

It wasn't until Castiel did indeed fly in at dusk as promised that it hit Dean how fucking disappointed he would have been if the angel hadn't shown.

It was getting hard for Dean to remember that he shouldn't get used to this. “Cas, you see anything?” There'd been chatter on the scanner about suspicious people in the park but the place looked quiet.

“No.”

“Yeah?” Castiel was squinting at the statue of Columbus near the playground and from the look on his face it sure looked like something was up. Or maybe Castiel just wasn't a big fan of Columbus, hell if Dean knew. “So what's up, then?”

“I hear something.” He stalked around the statue, head to the side like a hunting dog trying to find a bird.

“Hear what?”

“A heartbeat.” Castiel's hand shot out and before Dean could blink Cas dragged out a masked henchman in a green and purple uniform.

Dean groaned. It would figure the Trickster's goons wouldn't even give him a full week of peace. “Seriously? You guys again?”

The collared henchman tried to squirm free, resorting to spitting at Castiel when he couldn't break the angel's grip. “We tell you to get out of town and you recruit help? Are you tryin' to tick the boss off?”

Castiel shook him. “Tell the rest to come out of hiding.”

The henchman grinned. “If you say so.” He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it before Castiel could stop him; on the bright side it was just a flash grenade, which was the best of a few dozen bad possibilities.

It just came with the very big downside that when by the time he was able to shake off the disorientation and spots clouding his vision Dean saw he was surrounded by at least fifteen costumed henchmen. “What is your boss's problem with me?”

The henchmen didn't answer as they closed in, either wielding chains or brass knuckles or sometimes both. Dean heard that wing flutter and Castiel was there behind him; they went back to back as the henchmen started to circle them. “Fall back to the alley we passed,” Dean whispered to him, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. “We'll bottleneck them.” He felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “We have to run it, we want them to follow us.”

Castiel clearly wasn't thrilled about that plan but didn't say anything against it. Dean closed his eyes and reached deep down, calling up the hellfire. “All right jackasses,” he said, making the flame wreathe around his fists. “You all wanna dance, let's go.” They swarmed forward the way crowds of henchmen always did; Castiel floored three with one blow and Dean made five of his own duck with a sheet of hellfire.

They had their opening already. “Go!” Dean said, giving Castiel a shove forward. Cas sprinted forward a few steps, picking up two henchmen and hurling them into some of their friends to clear the path. Once that was done Castiel sidestepped enough to let Dean past him; Dean knew Cas was faster than him on his worst day and he'd keep the mob from getting too close.

When he reached the back of the alley Dean spun on his heel, urging the flames higher; Cas realized what he was doing and ducked, letting Dean fire two gouts of hellfire over his head. Over the henchmen's heads too, of course, but close enough to make some of them drop and roll out of reflex.

It started going wrong once the last of the henchmen decided it would be a better plan to cut their losses. Dean had to be very careful to manage his hellfire; he was starting to think it might actually be a little bit alive. It fought him when he used it – it took all of his concentration to keep it under control, to make it follow his orders. It always wanted more, wanted to burn, wanted to cause screams and to make flesh scald off bone. The more he used it and the more portals he opened the louder that voice got, like there was a demon growing in his blood egging him on.

When the last henchmen fled Dean felt the hellfire boil over. Through a black and red haze Dean saw Castiel stalk out of the alley, looking for any stragglers and Dean hoped he stayed gone long enough for this to pass. He stumbled to the back wall of the alley and tried to remember how to breathe. The fire covered both his arms, scorching the pavement in a circle under his feet and Dean knew this had a while to go before it got better.

“Dean?” he heard, like a whisper from very far away. “Where are you? I thought you were behind me.”

“Stay back!” Dean put one hand up and saw little tongues of flame reach out from his fingers. “You gotta stay away.”

Castiel reappeared at the mouth of the alley, his head cocked to the side like a confused golden retriever. “What happened? Were you attacked?”

Dean shook his head, little sparks flying from his hair and igniting the ancient posters decorating the walls. “Overdid it,” he forced out. “Gotta...gotta give me a few seconds to get it back under control.” Another gout of flame erupted from him, doubling him over; hellfire rarely hurt anymore but when it lit him up like a roman candle this way it was every bit as agonizing as the first day it had infected him.

When his vision cleared up he saw Castiel walking toward him. “I said stay back, are you stupid?”

“No,” he said, not breaking his stride.

“Cas, man, please. I don't want to burn you.”

Castiel was in the circle of the flames now, the hero disguise discarded and his clothes starting to smolder. “It takes much more than a common demon to burn me,” he said, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder as if to prove his point. “Now look at me,” he said, tipping Dean's chin up and keeping his hand there until it sank in that he really had touched Dean's bare skin without burning. “Focus on me.”

Dean tried. It seemed to make the hellfire angry. When his knees buckled he felt Castiel hold him up. “Dean, I can help you control it if you'll let me. Will you?”

Dean nodded. He felt Castiel strip off his jacket – his clothes never burned, not even when the hellfire was at its worst – and roll up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I'm going to mark you,” he said, his voice strange and distorted. “Will you allow that?” Dean nodded again and he felt Castiel's hand press against his shoulder.

It had been so long since someone had been able to touch him that hit him like an electric shock before Castiel even did anything. “Look at me,” Castiel murmured again and this time Dean was able to meet his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Focus on me.”

Dean couldn't have looked at anything else if he'd tried. Castiel's irises wreathed with white light, those shadow wings he'd first seen that night spreading across the alley. Dean felt the skin on his shoulder tingle, then he felt cold energy spread through him, filling his veins the same way as the hellfire. It felt like standing in a cold rain. “Almost finished,” Castiel said, and Dean could feel his vision start to clear. “There,” he breathed, and Dean felt the hellfire snap back under control like a rubber band breaking.

Dean hadn't felt this clear headed in months. When Castiel started to pull away Dean held his hand against his shoulder. Cas was so close Dean could feel him breathing. The last time someone had been able to get this close to him had been before he met Alastair. “What'd you do?”

“It's not...the most elegant solution but it should hold.” Dean let him step back and craned his neck to see the handprint shaped brand on his shoulder. “Was that painful?”

Dean traced one finger along the edge of the brand. “Trust me, Cas, this is nowhere near the list of bad things that have happened to me over the past year.” He wondered if he'd imagined Castiel shivering just a little bit when he'd touched the brand but didn't feel up to asking about it. “Thanks.” Dean let himself sink down against the alley wall, waving Castiel away when he offered a hand up. “I'm all right. Just wiped.”

Castiel nodded and took a step back, fidgeting like he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands. “I...I'll make sure the criminals have truly scattered.”

Dean let him trail off into a weird, awkward pause and watched him get halfway down the alley. “They have my brother.” He could tell Castiel had turned to look back at him but Dean didn't feel up to meeting his eyes just then. “They told me that if I agreed to work for them for a year I'd get him back, that's what they promised me.”

Castiel seemed to need to ponder that for a few moments, then he came back to sit on the ground next to Dean. “No human can survive this long in Hell, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “They have him in a...containment field, they called it. Believe me, that's the first thing I asked too. He's been out like a light this whole time.”

“And you believe them?”

“I've seen him.”

“And you believe them?”

“I have to.” Dean buried his face in his hands. “And you don't have to say it, 'cause trust me, I have my doubts all the time but I have to. If there's even a one percent chance they're on the level and Sam is really okay I have to believe them.” Dean looked up into the overcast sky; these were the worst nights to patrol, no moon or stars. Just the featureless sky sitting low and claustrophobic over everyone. “That's how it is. So if you helped me out tonight to get me to talk, hey, congratulations.”

“I didn't.” Dean realized he must have been radiating bullshit because Castiel reached out to physically force Dean to look at him. “I didn't. I'd hoped you would tell me eventually,” he allowed, “but assisting you wasn't in furtherance of that. You were in pain and I knew I could help.”

Castiel's hand was warm. Dean wondered if angels ran a little hotter than run of the mill humans. “Yeah, well,” he said, pulling away. “Now you know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “If your major plan was to, I don't know, pull me back from the dark side or whatever I gotta break it to you that it's not gonna work. This isn't something you can talk me out of, or shame me into behaving or whatever you angels do for lost causes. If it was just my own life I'd risk it but I won't risk Sam's. I promised them a year and that's what they're getting.” Dean could feel his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break a rib. “So if your orders are to get me to stop or kill me you'd better save us both some time and kill me right now.”

Dean closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall. He hoped Cas would be able to do it without making it hurt.

Instead he heard that faint flutter of wings and opened his eyes to find himself alone.

Chapter Text

A solid week went by with no sign of Castiel. It had been long enough that Dean had gone from a mix of relieved and annoyed to kind of worried. If Castiel had really meant to kill him he'd thought the hammer would have fallen by now. Maybe one of his supervisors had decided he'd taken too long.

Dean shook the thought away. Castiel was a big bad angel, he could take care of himself.

He just wished all of his “friends” could be nice enough to stay away. “Are you hesitating, Dean?”

Dean glared at Alastair, prompting the demon's sick smile. “You know I'm not. Stop crowding me or this won't work.”

Alastair stepped back, his hands up like he was begging forgiveness. “I shouldn't have doubted. You're just taking longer than the last few times.”

Dean didn't bother responding to that, instead taking his jacket off and dropping it to the pavement. The night was unseasonably warm and opening portals to Alastair's increasingly precise instructions could work up a sweat in a blizzard.

And yeah, maybe he was stalling a little bit. The handprint worked just as Castiel had promised at keeping the hellfire under control but he didn't know if it would affect the portal opening too.

When Dean felt his power building in his chest he realized he'd been hoping the power would be blocked. Bet you wished you'd thought of that now, huh Cas? Hell, if anything Dean thought the brand was making the process easier; when he braced for the usual pain it didn't come, not even when the tendrils of hellfire reached out for him.

At least Dean hoped that was the brand. If he'd gotten to the point where pure hellfire didn't even tickle Dean knew there was no coming back. Alastair had him hold the portal longer than any of the others and eventually the strain of that started to hurt, a dull ache spreading across his shoulders and down his back. “How much longer?” he shouted over the howl of energy.

“A few more seconds.” No matter how loud the roar Alastair's voice could always slide just underneath it. In the end it was more like twenty but when he finally felt Alastair's hand on his shoulder all Dean cared about was that he could stop. “Good boy.” Dean's knees buckled and he felt Alastair grab both arms to steady him. “Easy, now.” Alastair set him down against the wall, all but cooing over him like an overprotective mother.

Then Dean felt the demon freeze. “What did you do to yourself?” he asked, starting to trace the bottom edge of the brand visible beneath the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt. The oily tinge to his voice was back, like he knew exactly what Dean had done and just wanted it confirmed.

Dean's mind seized up in a moment of sheer panic. Stupid. Shouldn't have taken the jacket off, fuck. He cringed away before Alastair could actually touch it. “It's not a big deal,” he said, pulling his sleeve down and ducking under Alastair's arm so he could stand. “A thing happened. I got it handled.”

“A thing,” Alastair repeated. Dean had expected him to sound angry but instead the words came out thoughtful. “I see.”

Dean shrugged back into his jacket, brushing himself off like nothing was wrong. “We done here?”

“For now.” Alastair stopped him at the mouth of the alley when he tried to leave, one hand on Dean's shoulder. “Is there anything you need to tell me, Dean?”

It took every ounce of Dean's self control to not back away and throw up. “What? No.”

Dean could swear the demon looked worried. “You know that if anyone is giving you trouble you can tell me, don't you? No matter what they may have threatened.”

Dean wondered if he was having some kind of psychotic break. “Dude, I'm fine,” he said, finally shaking Alastair off. “Can I go?”

“Of course.” Alastair stepped aside and Dean rushed past him, managing to not break into a full run until he knew he was out of Alastair's sight. He didn't slow down until he slammed the door of the motel room shut behind him, testing every lock twice. “Cas, you better show up tonight,” he said, half to himself and half to the air in the hopes that maybe that worked with angels. “'Cause I think you're in trouble and I can't warn you if I don't know where the fuck you are.”

Dean waited in the room until midnight but there was no sign of Castiel. The short patrol he managed that night was a distracted waste and sleep was a very long time coming.

***

They'd found another set of wings. Castiel crouched down, tracing just his fingertip along the outer edge; the impression had long since gone cold, meaning the murder had happened hours before, perhaps even a full day.

Castiel sat back on his heels, taking in the whole sweep of the wings with one mournful glance. He'd desperately hoped this plan would work.

That they'd failed to prevent the murder just made the reminders from his conscience that it had been seven days since he'd left Dean without a word that much more painful. His plan had been to show up the next night as if nothing had happened, to show Dean his disposition toward him hadn't changed, but then Balthazar had found him and asked for help. He'd suspected someone of watching him and had hoped that if he and Castiel alternated duties it would throw whoever it was off Balthazar's scent and would increase their chances of catching the criminal in the act. It had been a good plan, Balthazar's often were, but it took all of his time and he'd worried that if he told Dean what he was doing Dean would want to help and get caught in the crossfire. Or worse, be compelled by the demons to betray him, if the demons were in fact responsible.

And Castiel was still not at all convinced that Dean was responsible. The timing of the portal openings and the attacks were convincing but that could mean the culprit was using the energy surge that came from opening a portal to cover its tracks. Angels didn't die easily and certainly never quietly, the attacker had to have some method. Castiel didn't want to add to Dean's already staggering burdens if he didn't have to.

But Castiel was beginning to worry that time was coming. This was too many, they would have to come up with another plan and Castiel doubted he could keep Dean away from it a second time.

Castiel was about to alert Balthazar of what he'd discovered when a shadow fell over him. “Well, well, well,” he heard from behind, a strange, sing-song quality to the voice. “You took some effort to find.”

Castiel turned and saw Alastair behind him, the demon's eyes milky white. He didn't have time to breathe before the demon's hands wrapped tight around his neck.

***

Dean woke screaming. At first he thought it was a just a nightmare, one of those nasty ones he could never remember once his eyes opened, God knew he had enough of those, but after a few disoriented seconds Dean realized the brand on his shoulder was burning. He sat up and pressed one hand against the brand; the skin was tender and inflamed like it had gotten infected and his whole arm felt like it was on fire.

Then it started bleeding.

Dean pushed himself up and pulled on a pair of jeans and his boots before he even knew what in the hell he was going to do. He doubled over when another wave of pain hit, almost forcing him down to his knees. It felt like hellfire but a thousand times stronger. The pain came again, weaker this time than the first, but Dean knew down to his bones that wasn't a sign this was passing.

And he knew he had been absolutely right to worry about Castiel.

Dean crouched next to the bed and tried to clear his head. He didn't know why he was sure this had to do with the angel but he didn't waste time doubting the hunch. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Huh. That's an idea.fast. It could be done with a focus, he'd used Sam's computer.

Dean pressed his hand as hard as he could take against the brand. “Work,” he whispered. “Please work.” Dean felt his power pull tight within his chest, like a balloon being pulled, then he opened his eyes to see a glowing line floating in space. Dean gritted his teeth and focused on the line, visualizing grabbing it with both hands and tearing it open. He felt sweat drip into his eyes and forced himself to ignore it; pain started drumming behind his eyes as the portal pulled open inch by very slow inch, the bright light giving way to glimpses of a drab nighttime alley.

From the other side of the portal Dean thought he heard a distorted, muffled cry.

Dean focused for one more second to stabilize the portal and launched himself through.

He landed hard enough to almost black out. Portal traveling was rough under perfect circumstances and this was as far from perfect as Dean could imagine. It took a few seconds for him to be able to breathe.

Dean heard that cry again and jolted to his feet, feeling like he'd been hit with a taser. He thought the sound was coming from the alley nearby and staggered toward it; there was so much hellfire in the air Dean could taste it. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, a surge of pure rage wrapping around him like barbed wire. He felt the hellfire in his own blood come to the surface in response, fire wreathing his fists without Dean having to command it. His vision shaded and Dean wondered if his eyes had gone black.

Alastair had Castiel up against the wall, his hands tight around the angel's neck. Alastair wasn't trying to strangle him, though; the reek of burning flesh filled the alley, Castiel's clothes starting to smolder off him. When Castiel screamed again Alastair clamped one hand over his mouth and Castiel started to thrash, convulsing hard enough for Dean to hear his head slam against the brick wall behind him. “Let him go!” Dean said, grabbing Alastair by the shoulder and trying to wrench him away.

Alastair looked over his shoulder, smiling like a child at a carnival. “I understand why you didn't confide in me,” he said, letting out a little chuckle. “I'm more than happy to take care of this for you.”

“It's not a problem,” Dean said, real horror sinking in that Alastair genuinely seemed to think he was helping. “I said I had it handled.”

Castiel's eyes opened, going wide when he saw Dean. Castiel tried to shake his head, pushing back on Alastair's hand in a futile attempt to get him to let go. Alastair looked back to him, wrapping both hands around his neck and squeezing hard enough that Dean saw white in the demon's knuckles. Castiel let out a desperate little sob of pain and then went limp, his eyes rolling back.

Two seconds later he started to glow. Bright white light drifted from his eyes and nose and mouth as his body spasmed. Dean felt the brand on his shoulder go from burning to ice cold, like the whole area was covered in frostbite. “Let him go,” Dean repeated, again trying to pull Alastair away. Alastair just pushed him away and went back to work, the joy of throttling the life out of the angel apparently more tempting than slowly burning him.

The worst part of it all was that little voice in Dean's mind, that corruption in his blood, was whispering to Dean to sit back and enjoy it. A sick piece of him the demons already owned was appreciating the beauty of Castiel hanging there helpless in the demon's grip, had cataloged what he'd sounded like when he'd screamed and how very blue his eyes were when they were wide with terror. The voice told Dean to ask Alastair to step aside, to let Dean finish him off. It whispered to Dean what it would be like to squeeze the life out of someone who had tried to help him, to feel Castiel struggle against him and to finally feel him stop.

That voice had been getting so loud lately sometimes Dean couldn't hear anything else. Someday Dean knew he wouldn't be able to say no to it.

Dean clenched his jaw tight. That was sure as hell not going to be today. “Let him go or I'll never open another portal again.” Dean felt so light-headed he could barely stand and prayed Alastair didn't call his bluff because he didn't think he could follow through on it.

Alastair turned to look at him again, his eyes human instead of demon white. “I'm not sure if you mean that,” he said, that thoughtful tone back in his voice.

“I said I had it handled,” Dean said, keeping one eye on Castiel. The glow was brighter and he'd stopped moving. “I got him on a string. The thing on my shoulder, that helps me with the hellfire. And they all know he's after me, if you kill him I'll be the one on the hook for it and I can't open up any portals for you if every angel in the world comes and kills me.”

Alastair tilted his head to the side almost the way Castiel did sometimes, but he let Castiel drop. “Only because it seems so important to you, Dean,” he said and Dean felt almost faint with relief when Castiel let out a soft groan when he hit the ground. Alastair grabbed a handful of Castiel's shirt and held him up, shaking him hard until his eyes opened. “Don't ever lay a hand on my protege again,” Alastair said before shoving Castiel back to the filthy alley pavement and disappearing.

Dean rushed over to Castiel, dropping to his knees beside him; Cas' eyes were wide and he was breathing like he'd just run ten marathons back to back. “I'm gonna sit you up, okay?” Cas' eyes looked blankly in Dean's direction, clearly just following the sound of his voice. “I'm gonna take that as an okay.” He wrapped his arms underneath Castiel's shoulders and eased him up, leaning him against the wall of the alley; he was as gentle as possible but Castiel still whimpered. “Sorry, man, I know you gotta feel like shit right now.”

Castiel nodded as if Dean had made a very good observation. After a few seconds Castiel's vision started to clear, blinking at Dean as if what he was looking at didn't make sense. “Dean?” he whispered, fumbling to put one hand on Dean's shoulder and managing it on the third try. “I didn't think I would see you again.”

He started using Dean as leverage to stand back up and Dean stayed close, ready to catch Castiel if he fell over. “Whose fault is that?” Dean said, trying not to look at the blackened, beyond third degree burns on his face and neck. “What was with the disappearing act?”

“That was why,” Castiel said, nodding to something over Dean's shoulder. Dean turned around and saw an impression of huge black wings burned into the pavement. “Something's hunting us. Killing us. I was helping my brother find out what.”

“Fuck. I guess now you know.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. No, Alastair was after me specifically. He's not what we've been searching for.”

“But I just saw him.....”

“If he could have killed me he would have. He wanted to hurt me and....” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, as if searching for the right word. “Exorcize me,” he finally said, frowning as if that wasn't quite right but would have to do. “Pull me out of my body.”

“Yeah, I know what exorcize means.” Dean touched just under the burn on his neck, which was slowly fading from necrotic black to a painful livid red. “You do heal fast, I'll give you that. I thought you said demons couldn't burn you.”

“Alastair is far from a common demon.” A full body shiver rushed through him. “I don't want Balthazar to know this happened,” he said, sounding every inch like shock had just caught up with him.

“We'll get out of here,” Dean said, putting both hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “Take a few minutes to catch your breath first, okay?” Castiel nodded and swallowed hard, as if he was trying to stop his body from shaking through sheer force of will. “What was the point of trying to rip you out of the meat suit, anyway?” he said, hoping to give Cas something to focus on.

“I told you, we can't operate on Earth in our true forms.”

“Yeah, I know, but if this one breaks just grab another one, right?”

Cas shook his head. “There very few humans capable of being vessels. Most of the population would explode if they tried,” he said, and Dean tried to push away that lovely mental image. “It runs along bloodlines. You could be one,” he said, giving Dean something close to his normal, examining look.

“Me?”

“Yes, but not for me. Of the tiny percentage capable of it an even smaller fraction is suitable for each specific angel. The chances of there being more than one suitable vessel is microscopic and then there's the issue of getting the person to agree. If we lose our vessels it's an almost certainty we won't find another.”

“So, good as dead, then.”

“In a way.”

Cas' legs buckled under him and Dean wrapped both arms around him to hold him up. “Easy, easy. I got you.”

Castiel nodded, his face pressed against Dean's shoulder. “I tried to scream. I cried out and no one heard me except you.” He clung so tight onto Dean he could barely breathe. “How did you know I was in distress?”

“This thing you put on my arm felt like it was on fire, Cas. I knew something had to be up.”

“It was?” he said, pulling back and looking genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. You didn't rig it to do that?”

Castiel shook his head. “I intended nothing of the kind. I suppose I was rushed.”

“I'm not exactly complaining. Really. Especially considering how it worked out.” He leaned Castiel back against the wall and couldn't quite bring himself to pull away. “Hey,” he said, suddenly not able to look at Castiel. “About what that jerk said, about you putting your hands on me. Forget that. You can touch me whenever you want.”

For an instant Dean thought Castiel was just going to fly off in disgust. Expected it,really. Instead he felt Castiel's hand slide up his arm, coming to rest just over the handprint.

Dean had always been good at picking up hints; he rolled up his sleeve and shuddered when Castiel touched the handprint, the warmth of it spreading under his skin. “You felt that too, huh?” he said, not missing that Cas had shivered too.

“Very much,” Cas said, his usually deep voice reduced to a rasp. “I must have created a connection without meaning to.”

The burns on his face had all but healed; Dean ran the pad of his thumb under Castiel's lower lip, watching for signs of pain. “That hurt?” When Castiel shook his head no Dean traced just the edge of his lower lip. He didn't even know why he was doing this. He wanted to blame the handprint but he knew the truth was that he was so touch starved just this was enough to get him lightheaded, like being drunk but better.

Dean stopped caring about whys when Castiel's lips parted in response, his breath hot against Dean's skin. They were still standing so close Dean only had to angle his head to lean in for a kiss, first just brushing his lips against Castiel's. When Cas didn't pull away Dean pressed closer, coaxing Castiel's lips open until that first taste of him made Dean moan. When he finally pulled back he was shaking just as hard as Castiel had been a few minutes ago. “You should have killed me that first night,” he said, that vicious memory of Alastair squeezing until Castiel went limp suddenly all he could see. “I'm a dead man walking anyway, no one gets away clean this far in.”

When he was able to look up again Castiel was giving him that head-tilted look, almost the same as from that first night in that other alley. Then he grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt and pulled him back into an unpracticed but very acceptable kiss of his own, his hands cradling Dean's head as if he was afraid Dean might break. “You said I could touch you,” he said, his voice so low and rough Dean almost couldn't make out the words. “Show me how you would want me to touch you.”

Dean was beginning to wonder if maybe he hadn't actually woken up and this was all a strange and wonderful dream. “Later,” he said, knowing that if Castiel did touch him now it was going to very quickly move on to things they'd want something softer than asphalt to do them on. “When we're back at the motel, after we patrol. We can spend all morning with you learning how to touch me if you want.”

Castiel's hand moved to Dean's waist, his thumb brushing the skin between his shirt and jeans as he leaned close to Dean's ear. “All morning and the rest of the day,” he whispered.

***

Although he knew he could never admit it aloud a secret part of Castiel was almost grateful to Alastair. The morning after the attack had been a...revelation, one that had continued to unfold throughout the next week. Castiel didn't think he could ever be as fond of a place as he'd become of Dean's motel room. And Castiel was determined that this progress meeting with Balthazar would have no power to sour his mood.

He felt a little prick of conscience at even thinking that. Castiel would be the first to admit that from an outside perspective his priorities as of late would look skewed. So far as he was concerned he was still on his mission, saving Dean (though he knew Balthazar and Uriel would be the first to point out that his stated mission had been to stop Dean, but Castiel refused to believe those two goals could not be one and the same.) If his methods were becoming less than orthodox, well, Dean Winchester wasn't the type who responded to orthodox solutions.

Castiel closed his eyes and thought about the way Dean's eyelids fluttered at even the slightest touch, the way it felt when Dean pressed his lips to the curve of Castiel's neck. The hellfire in Dean's touch was growing stronger, enough that Castiel could feel the echo of it now even though it was still too weak to cause harm. The mark was helping but even it couldn't hold that back forever; another opening, a handful at the most, and Dean might be beyond saving.

Everything in Castiel recoiled just from the thought. He needed time and he needed advice. As transporting as this week had been Castiel hoped speaking with his brothers would help give him some clarity.

It slowly dawned on Castiel that Balthazar was late.

The faint drizzle hanging in the air all morning had developed into a cold, steady rain; Castiel huddled on the rooftop and looked up into the overhanging clouds. This was unlike Balthazar. Castiel hadn't checked in as well as he'd promised since reuniting with Dean but Balthazar had been acting strangely all week himself; he'd confided to Castiel a few days ago – in secret, which also struck Castiel as odd when he thought about it – that he thought he was getting close but then shut Castiel out entirely. Even getting him to agree to meet had been like pulling teeth, as Dean would put it. Well, as Dean would put it with less profanity.

Castiel decided to tap his connection to the garrison as he waited. It had been too long since he'd taken the chance to commune and he hoped hearing the voices of his brothers and sisters would give him some reassurance.

What he did hear was something very different. Castiel felt his mind get forcibly pulled away and forced somewhere smaller and static, one mind instead of many. A memory instead of a changing thought. The impression was rushed and murky; Castiel could feel and hear but not see, making him feel like an eavesdropper in a dark room. He could feel Balthazar close by, near enough to touch; he could feel drizzle on his skin, hear the wet thud of footsteps as people passed by. Then the impression jumbled and Castiel wasn't sure how much time was passing; he heard a wingbeat, perhaps more than one, then Balthazar's voice, resignation mixed with terror. Oh. So that's how it is.

The next thing he felt was pain, spikes of it driving through him and cutting off his air. Castiel knew he'd be screaming were he able; the pain was worse than when Alastair had touched him, worse than anything he'd felt in any battle. Castiel hadn't known pain like this was possible.

Everything stopped. There was nothing but darkness and cold; for a moment Castiel wondered if this was what death felt like.

He snapped out of the meditation curled up on the edge of the roof, his clothes soaked and his hair plastered down to his face. It took a few moments to remember how to open his eyes.

When he finally managed it he saw Balthazar crouching there looking down at him. “Guess you never know how things will work out, do you Cassie?” Balthazar looked solid but when Castiel tried to touch him his hand passed through.

An implanted message then. This was in his head, a vision left for him to find when he tried to commune. Balthazar rubbed his hands over his face, looking around like he was worried about being overheard. “If you're seeing this it's safe to say I turned my back on someone I shouldn't have. Listen to me very carefully: we were both wrong. If I'm right – and considering what you're watching looks like I am – you need to hide. Go to ground. Don't communicate with any of us, in person or otherwise. Hate to say it, but you might be safer with Winchester than anyone else right now.” He looked over his shoulder again. “I didn't tell you and I'm not sorry for it. You'd want to believe it even less than I did.” He felt his head snap up, like Balthazar had wanted to make sure Castiel was looking him in the eye. “Remember what I said.”

The message shimmered and faded, leaving Castiel alone on the roof. He reflexively reached out for the garrison, instinct telling him to report this, but he pulled back at the last instant. Instead Castiel focused on that first nightmarish vision he'd had. That had been a message too, a wall keeping him from the rest of the garrison. Castiel focused until the streets of the city spread below him, the place where Balthazar had sent the message glowing like a beacon. Castiel flew toward it, the blind flight and the downpour making him slip to his knees on the wet pavement.

The glint of something metal caught his eye. Castiel pushed himself back to his feet and reached for it, almost coming off his feet again when he fished out a cut crystal vial hanging on a broken silver chain from one of the glowing puddles. The vial in his hand was empty and for a few desperate seconds Castiel tried to will it to glow.

Castiel knew what he'd find when he looked up and couldn't force himself to do it. Finally he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and made himself stand, turning the corner into an ordinary looking alley.

The wings spanned almost the entire length of the narrow alley. When Castiel touched the impression it was still warm.

Castiel staggered back a few steps, squeezing his eyes shut as he severed his connection to the garrison. He spread his wings and flew back to the motel like every demon in hell was at his heels.

***

Dean found Castiel huddled in the doorway of the motel, which made zero sense since he'd given the guy a key days ago in the hopes of encouraging him to use that instead of appearing out of thin air. “Cas? You forget your key?”

Castiel didn't look up. “You reek of hellfire.”

Dean winced. “Yeah, sorry, I had to...you know.” Worry itched at the back of Dean's skull; Castiel hadn't said that like he was angry, just like he was making an observation. “You okay?”

Castiel shook his head. “I can't hear them. I've always been able to hear them. I didn't know it could sound this empty.”

“...Okay.” Dean sat down next to him, having to squeeze to fit in the doorway. Cas was shaking like he was hypothermic and Dean knew him too well to think that had anything to do with the rain. “Cas, what happened?”

Castiel startled, like he just realized Dean was there. “You weren't at the room. I was concerned that if I searched you would get into trouble.”

“Why didn't you wait inside?” Castiel frowned, like it hadn't occurred to him. “Never mind. The hell is wrong with you? You get attacked again?”

Castiel chuckled at that, which was frankly kind of terrifying. “No. No, I wasn't.” He let out a deep breath. “Do you remember the brother I told you about? Balthazar, the one who was investigating the killings?” Dean nodded. “He's dead. He was murdered, like all the others.”

“Fuck. Cas, I'm sorry....”

“He thought the killer was one of us.” Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. “He left me a message telling me to hide, to cut myself off.” He looked at Dean for the first time, his eyes wide. “How could that be? We don't kill each other. We never have.”

“I don't know. Maybe he was wrong....”

Castiel shook his head. “He's very canny, Dean, he must have trusted whoever it was if they surprised him.” His expression went bleak. “I felt him die. That's what that was,” he said, horror growing with every word. “Do you think he was reaching for me? Is that what left that impression?”

“Nah,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice calm. Cas needed to hear there was nothing he could have done whether that was true or not. “If he went through all that effort to warn you off he wouldn't have tried to drag you in blind.”

“He died in pain. He died in so much pain he couldn't scream.”

“Cas, don't think about it.”

“If it was your brother would you be able to not think about it?”

Dean tried not to think about the shape he'd been in if he'd been in Castiel's place. “C'mon,” he said instead, pulling Cas to his feet. “Let's get you inside, you're soaked.”

“So are you,” Cas said, but he let Dean herd him inside and sit him on the bed.

Dean crouched in front of Castiel so he'd have to look in Dean's eyes. “He said you have to lay low. Can you do that?”

Castiel's brows furrowed, the same way they did when he and Dean were trying to come up with a way to get in and out of a henchman-infested warehouse without being seen. “Yes,” he finally said. “Severing my connection goes a long way toward that but there are other ways. Certain sigils.” He looked around the little room. “This place would be easy to make secure.”

“Good. Good, you work on that, okay? I gotta head out.”

Castiel just looked more confused. “But you just got here.”

“I know, I won't be long. You magic the place up and I'll be right back, then we'll go patrol. Take your mind off things.” Castiel nodded and Dean was glad to see the shock starting to fade as he found something to focus on. Dean patted his shoulder and slipped back out the door, flipping his collar up against the downpour and finally letting the anger he'd been fighting down shake through him.

Something was killing angels and Dean reeked of hellfire. Once could be a coincidence.

But this was twice because a week ago Dean had fresh hellfire running though his veins too.

“Alastair!” Dean shouted, pacing the alley where he'd opened a portal barely two hours before. “Get the fuck back here!”

“Language.” Dean spun around and saw Alastair leaning against the alley wall. “You don't usually call for me so soon after a playdate.”

“I don't call for you ever.” Dean got right up into the demon's face, rage letting him forget what a stupid idea that was. “You said I wasn't killing anyone by working for you.”

“You aren't. Did someone tell you we were? I'd hate to be left out of such an important detail.”

“Why do angels keep dying every time I open one, then?”

“Well. Not every time. Not at first, anyway.”

“That was the only condition I had.”

“Don't be so sensitive. It's not like they're actually people, are they?” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “And to ease your precious conscience, you aren't killing anyone. It's more that you're working in concert with those who are.” Dean took a swing at Alastair, who just caught his fist. “That's the only one you get.”

“No more. No portals, I don't do anything you say anymore.”

Alastair picked him up by the collar and threw him against the wall. “I think you've forgotten your position, Dean,” he said. “You shouldn't care about how many angels die. There is only one life that you should concern yourself with and that is that poor boy sleeping peacefully in my domain.” Alastair gestured and the vision of Sam he sometimes showed Dean after openings hovered in the air. “Has it been so long you've forgotten? Perhaps you'd like me to wake him up. Let him see exactly where he is.”

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes locked on Sam. “No,” he finally said when it was clear Alastair expected an answer. “Don't do that.”

“I thought so.” He let Dean go. “Remember that your brother's life is hanging in the balance when you wonder whether you should shut your mouth and do as you're told.”

Dean nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He was not going to cry in front of Alastair. “I only work for you one more month, that's it. Then you can't tell me anything.”

“Dean, look at me,” Alastair said and Dean found his eyes opening entirely against his will. And he could tell Alastair knew that. “Yes, one more month. But what will you be by then?” Alastair rolled Dean's sleeve up, forcing him to look at his hellfire blackened veins. “You're already not human anymore. In your heart you know that,” he said, splaying on hand against Dean's chest. “Your eyes have already changed once. By the time your tenure is over this,” he said, running one finger along Dean's ruined veins, “will burn through your body and you'll need a new one. Like us.” He leaned forward to whisper into Dean's ear. “And we'll welcome you home.”

Dean tried to pull away but Alastair wouldn't let him. “Look at yourself now, Dean. Think of what would happen if anyone found out what you are. You'll be hunted. And unlike us, you can still be killed. Is that what you want? To get your brother back only to have him watch a howling mob tear you apart?”

“I'll never be like you.”

“You already are. I meant it when I told that thing you were my protege. More than that. You are my work of art. One of us hewn from a living human soul. And we have so many things ahead of us.” Alastair finally let Dean free, taking a step back. “So have your fun with the angel. Just remember where you belong.” With that he disappeared, a satisfied smile on his face.

Dean spent the next few minutes on his knees vomiting everything he'd eaten that day. When he trudged back to the hotel he found the walls covered in strange, faintly glowing symbols that changed as he watched them and burned his skin when he tried to touch them. Castiel was passed out across the bed, still in his clothes. Dean hadn't even been sure if angels slept, but Cas was so deep he barely stirred when Dean shifted him to a chair so he could swap out the sopping linens from the bed for clean ones. The chore kept Dean from thinking about Alastair's breath against his ear and how the demon in his blood had started his heart pounding from it. Once the bed was dry Dean worked Castiel out of his wet clothes, spreading them across the radiator to get them dry in time for patrol.

Dean wanted nothing more than to slide in next to Castiel and try to forget the past hour had ever happened but he curled up on the floor instead. He didn't want to know if his touch had finally started to burn.

Dean rolled up his sleeve and stared at his black veins. Deep down, nothing Alastair had told him had really been a surprise. He'd always known he'd sold his soul.

He buried his head in his hands, thought about Sam and told himself it was worth it.

Chapter Text

Patrol was the only thing keeping Dean going. Cas too, from what Dean could tell; Castiel had never said another word about what had happened that night and Dean hadn't pressed him, that went way beyond anything Dean could ever think to say. Cas was always ready to head out at dusk and Dean practically had to drag him back under cover come dawn; each night was a different motel now, trying to stay one step ahead of whatever bad guys might be trying to track Castiel down. Every night came nightmares of getting Sam back only to have him run screaming after taking one look at Dean, that or angels tearing down the walls to get at Cas and Dean not able to do jack to help. And those were the good dreams.

But during patrol everything still made sense. They beat up some bad guys, saved some citizens, all that stuff Dean's life had always been built around before everything went straight to hell.

Dean should have figured he wouldn't even be able to have that for very long. “How much does it take to get a message to you, Winchester?”

Dean had no idea how anyone had gotten behind them, there was no second entrance to this alley. When he turned around he saw a man leaning against the alley wall and dressed in the Trickster's purple and green colors although the design of the suit was sharper. He wore the same narrow mask as the other henchmen but paired with a bowler hat again in those colors; he twirled a staff topped with a question mark as he sized up the two of them, something else Dean had never seen before.

And unlike all the other times they'd fought the Trickster's goons, this guy was alone. Dean didn't take that as a reassuring sign.

Before Dean could blink Castiel stepped between the two of them and Dean didn't think he'd ever seen Cas look so furious. “What are you playing at---”

The guy rolled his eyes, gestured once and Castiel flew into the air, slamming hard into the back wall of the alley. With another gesture he sent Cas pinballing back and forth between the walls, finally letting him drop on a pile of dented garbage cans lined up along one side.

Dean took one step toward Castiel only to have the guy grab his shoulder to hold him back. “Nuh uh uh. We need to talk.”

“What did you do?” Dean said, shaking him off and not able to focus on anything but that Cas wasn't moving.

“What?” He looked back, as if he'd already forgotten what had just happened. “Oh relax, he'll be fine,” he said, waving Dean's concern away. “I just wanted some privacy for this little chat we're having.”

Dean swallowed hard and backed down. Just get through this. “So you're the Trickster himself, huh? I finally get to meet the big boss after all this time?”

Trickster grinned at the recognition. “Well, you keep beating up all of my guys. They have families to support, you know.”

He was a smaller man than Dean would have guessed, shorter than Dean by maybe three or four inches. “Stop sending them after me and there won't be any problems.”

“You see, that's the problem,” Trickster said, twirling the staff again. “I'm trying to keep this city safe and you just refuse to get out of my way.”

“You're no hero.” Dean took the chance of getting in his face. “You kill people. You killed a bunch of people just this past month.”

“I kill bad people who do bad things.”

“Half the people you take out aren't even criminals.”

“But they are bad people who have done bad things. And now they don't! You're just upset I do it with flair.”

Dean shook his head. “That's not how this is supposed to work.”

“Well, that's what funny about you saying that,” Trickster said, putting one arm around Dean's shoulders as if they were conspiring on a plan. “You're the one opening up portals to Hell all over my city, so who's really the bad guy here?” Dean backed away, hellfire wreathing his fists. “Yes, yes, I know it's you. And put that away before you hurt someone,” he said, pointing to the fire and looking entirely unimpressed. “That's my favorite part about this, that you pull this high and mighty act when what you're doing is so much worse."

What do you want from me?”

“I have been very clear on that, haven't I? I want you out of my city.”

“It's my city, and....”

“Your brother's dead.” Dean felt those words wrap around him like a vice even though he knew they weren't true. They couldn't be true. “Just accept that. He's not coming back no matter what you do.”

“I'll never accept that.”

“Don't act like you're the only one in the world who's ever lost family, you're not a unique little snowflake. We all have to accept things we don't like. He's done. He's gone.” Trickster took a step closer to Dean. “And if he was here I'd kill him myself.”

“What? Why? Sam, he...he didn't do anything, he's just a kid.”

“He's what started all of this. No Sam, no portals, no city full of innocents about to plunge into a black hole. Even you should be able to handle that math.”

“I'm what started this,” Dean said. “You wanna kill someone, kill me.”

Trickster only rolled his eyes again. “If I could I would. Not that the demons would probably let you stay dead permanently, but it would be satisfying. Unfortunately he,” Trickster said, pointing to Castiel, “has called dibs on killing you and it would just be rude to step on that. Get him to kill you if you want it so bad. Or off yourself, I don't care.” He grabbed Dean's face, forcing Dean to look him in the eye and Dean saw that forget burning, Trickster hadn't even flinched. “But you open one more portal in my city and I'm going to have to get rough. I'm losing my patience and there's so much I can do to you that won't technically kill you.” And with that he shoved Dean backward onto the concrete and disappeared.

Dean lay there for a few painful seconds trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened. Once he was able to shake that off he pushed himself back to his feet, rushing over to where the Trickster had tossed Castiel. “Cas?” he said, moving some of the now demolished cans off of him. “Cas, you okay? Talk to me.”

Castiel's eyes didn't so much as flutter but when Dean finally got him turned over his breathing seemed steady enough. “Sorry, buddy,” Dean said, pulling him out of the debris. “I didn't know he could do anything close to that.” Castiel didn't answer to that either, but while he looked bruised up Dean didn't see any obviously broken bones and when he ran one hand down Castiel's rib cage his breathing didn't hitch as if it hurt. “Guess he was on the level about that, at least.” He heaved Castiel over his shoulder and touched the motel key in his pocket; this might be a rough trip but Cas was too heavy to carry all the way back.

But the portal opened easily enough and Dean managed to drop Castiel on the bed before his legs buckled under him, so all well and good. Dean supposed he was getting better at that. He arranged Cas more comfortably on the bed, careful only to touch him over his clothes, then backed away to sit against the wall clear on the other side of the room. Dean knew he should check Castiel over properly, make sure Trickster really had been telling the truth, but Dean couldn't bring himself to move. Dean knew Castiel had picked up that something had been up over the past few days, even distracted as he was, but he hadn't pressed Dean about why Dean was being careful with him and sleeping on the floor the rare times Cas had the bed.

Dean didn't want to admit he was afraid to touch him. It wasn't the fire, although he knew that had gotten worse since the last opening. It was the voice, the demon in his blood that whispered to him with his own voice speaking in Alastair's cadence. Patrol drowned it out but whenever he had a quiet moment it came back, especially when he was around Castiel.

And the voice was very, very loud now. You should kill him.

“I can't kill him. Shut up.”

Dean didn't remember when he'd first started arguing back, but the voice always sounded amused when he did. He's weak now. That attack hurt him, he's probably not much stronger than you now. You could take the sword he carries.

Castiel did carry a sword. He didn't use it very often – they just fought normal humans on patrol, he didn't need it – and usually it was hidden away in Castiel's pocket in a way that made Dean suspect it wasn't quite real. He could feel the damn thing now, though, like the shot of fresh hellfire he'd gotten after the last portal was pointing right at it. It would be kinder than what his own would do to him. You know that. Remember how he said they'd killed his brother.

The voice was never less convincing than when it tried to talk about kindness. “Like you care.”

But the thought was in his head and Dean couldn't push it away, a series of increasingly bloody, intrusive images. Alastair had forced Dean to watch him torture a demon who'd disobeyed him once – even inviting him to join in at one point. He hadn't understood why at the time but realized now it was because Alastair had known Dean would get to this point someday and wanted to make sure those thoughts were already in his head. In the really bad dreams he was the one holding that long knife of Alastair's like it was a part of his hand. Those dreams felt like his first night on patrol, something so right he didn't know how he'd gone his whole life without knowing what that felt like.

Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Castiel covered in blood, eyes wide as he watched Dean bring that knife down again. Imagined screams and words dissolving into the desperate choking sounds the demon had made right at the end, the poison in Dean's blood clamoring for more. Imagine it.

Dean watched Castiel's chest rise and fall from across the room. Look at him. You could do anything you wanted to do to him right now.

Like someone was operating him by remote control Dean let the voice get him back to his feet and walk him back to the side of the bed. He watched Castiel sleep for what felt like an eternity.

He'd just reached out for him when Castiel opened his eyes and broke the spell. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean felt cold sweat break out all over his arms. “I don't know what's happening to me, Cas.”

Cas looked exhausted but that look in his eyes was sharp as ever as he examined Dean. “What do you mean.”

Dean had hoped he'd never have to admit this out loud. “I'm hearing voices. Not even like that, like there's something growing in my head.”

“Ah.” Castiel touched the livid bruise developing on his face,wincing when it hurt. “Demons feed on fear and pain and hate. You're full of hellfire, Dean. It's hungry.” He looked up at Dean like he already knew the answer to his next question. “Did it try to make you hurt me?”

Dean looked away. “Worse.”

“Look at me.” It took some effort but Dean finally dragged his gaze back to Castiel's face. “What do you want to do to me right now?”

Dean bit his lip for a second, then climbed on top of Castiel, straddling him while still being careful not to touch him. Castiel tipped his chin up, like he was intentionally baring his throat, and for an instant the only thought in Dean's head was the memory of Alastair's hands squeezing tight around his neck. The memory was vivid enough that Dean felt his own hands twitch.

Instead Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel, warmth rushing under Dean's skin when Cas opened to the kiss instantly. “Oh, good,” he murmured as Dean pulled back. “I was beginning to think I'd offended you.”

“Got scared. And that wasn't my first thought,” Dean admitted. He could feel Castiel breathing beneath him. “You gotta end this,” he whispered. “I...I can't do it myself and I don't want to turn into one of those things. It takes everything I've got to hold it all back as it is.”

“Why do you kiss me and then ask me to kill you?” Cas sounded so distraught Dean couldn't meet his eyes, but he let Castiel pull him back down into another kiss, one of the light, teasing ones Cas was so good at. “I will never kill you, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “You gotta. There's no other way out of this.”

“There are always other ways. And you're not going to turn into one of them.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Dean.” He cradled Dean's head, staring right into his eyes. “Believe me when I say that you are the only thing in the universe I'm sure about right now.”

He held Dean's gaze until Dean nodded. “How do you feel, anyway? Trickster bounced you so many times I lost count.”

Castiel sighed. “I've felt better. He's a very dangerous being, Dean. Don't confront him again.”

“I didn't want to confront him the last time.” Castiel's shirt had been partly torn open and Dean could see another dark bruise forming under his sternum. “I'm gonna check you out, okay?” Castiel nodded, stretching out beneath Dean, and Dean carefully unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way open. “You're gonna turn all kinds of fun colors over the next few hours, Cas,” he said, tracing along the edge of the bruise.

Castiel's back arched as Dean touched him, his lips parting. “That hurt?”

“It...tingles a little,” he admitted, and Dean knew that had nothing to do with the bruising.

“You want me to stop?” Castiel shook his head, sighing as Dean trailed his hands down his ribs. “Okay,” he said, his heart pounding. “You just relax, okay? I'm gonna take care of you.” Cas nodded, relaxing under Dean's touch, and Dean felt the hellfire start to rise to the surface at the implicit permission to do whatever he wanted.

Dean kissed Castiel until the urge to do anything else passed, until all he could care about was the way Cas' hands were in his hair and the way he kept arching up into the heat of Dean's touch. “I'm gonna take care of you,” he repeated, this time directly into Cas' ear. Castiel smiled, his eyes locked on Dean's face as he got to work.

***

Castiel felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. “Where have you been?”

The surge of panic swallowed him whole for a moment. Castiel couldn't remember ever feeling panic before this mission and he'd gotten quite familiar with it as of late.

But the voice was familiar and Castiel turned to see Uriel behind him, relief and worry mingled on his face. “How did you find me?”

“Is that all you have to say? Castiel, you're cut off, we thought you were dead. Or worse.”

He shrugged off Uriel's hand. “Answer the question. How did you find me?”

“Because I know you,” he said, gesturing at the city far below the highrise roof. “You seek high places to think when you're troubled.”

Castiel hadn't realized that was such fatal tell. “Does anyone else know? Is anyone with you?”

Uriel shook his head. “Even knowing you as well as I do it took me this long to find you.”

Castiel nodded, still looking around in case that was a lie. The adrenaline began to fade the longer they stood there, and finally Castiel let himself sit back down on the ledge of the building. “Please don't tell anyone you found me.”

“Why? What's happened?” Uriel sat beside him, like he was afraid of Castiel getting too far away. “When we found what was left...when we found Balthazar we feared the worst. I feared the worst.”

Castiel felt remorse flood through him. He and Uriel had fought at each other's side for thousands of years, endured countless hardships together. If he had been in Uriel's place Castiel knew he would have been frantic. “I didn't mean to worry you.” He sighed, the horror he'd been living with since that day pressing back close around him. “Balthazar left me a message. There's something foul happening at the garrison, brother. Something dark. You should go to ground too, before it catches up with you.”

Castiel had never seen Uriel look so amazed. “Do you really believe one of us is behind this?”

Castiel hesitated. It still seemed so impossible to imagine, but finally he nodded.

Uriel put one hand back on his shoulder and Castiel was glad for the comfort. “This is the last thing I ever expected you to say.”

“I can hardly believe it myself. But it's true.”

Uriel squeezed his shoulder. “How goes it with Winchester? Tell me he's one less thing to worry about.”

Castiel could only shake his head. “I think you knew the answer to that before you asked it.”

“I'm afraid I did,” Uriel said, letting out a resigned sigh. “What will it take for you to end that nuisance and return home?”

It took Castiel a long time to answer. “I'm not going to kill him, Uriel.”

Uriel only sighed again. “Do you remember the conversation we'd had about betting on what you would do?” he said, waiting for Castiel to nod. “This is what I bet on. I never believed you would raise your hand to Winchester. I believe that's the reason you were given the mission in the first place.”

Castiel tried to force those words into some kind of sense. “But you'd said you'd hoped you were wrong. Why?”

The pressure on Castiel's shoulder had been growing steadily stronger. “Because in my heart I did want to see you home and safe, Castiel.” Castiel watched something hard creep into his brother's expression. “There are very few of us in the field now. I didn't want you to be an option.”

And then Castiel knew. He scrambled back to his feet but couldn't shake off Uriel's grip. When he tried to spread his wings he felt a tether wrap around him, barbed and icy enough to stop his breath for an instant. His throat seized when he tried to scream and before long he dropped to his knees, the enervating magic in the tether doing its work. Uriel moved to stand over him, pulling his head back by his hair. “Don't fight it,” the almost soothing tone in his voice chilling Castiel as much as the ice wrapped around his wings. “Balthazar made things very unpleasant for himself. You don't need to do the same.”

“Why?” Castiel forced out, the effort making him light-headed.

“Do you know why the demons took Sam Winchester?”

Castiel nodded his head. He couldn't believe Uriel was going to force him to respond. “To...to control Dean.”

“Yes and no. The Winchesters are very special boys and this is a very special city. You've felt that about this place too, haven't you? If they'd been anywhere else they would have been no use to anyone. Both our sides have been manipulating their family for years to bring them to this place in time.” He crouched next to Castiel. “Dean Winchester can make portals but Sam is one. We intend to bring Lucifer, king of the demons to this plane through Sam and finally end this war once and for all.”

Castiel couldn't believe he'd ever known Uriel at all. “That will kill him.”

Uriel shrugged. “That's not really our concern.”

Castiel tried to shake his head. “But that kind of battle...will destroy this world. It will destroy this system.”

“Again, I don't care.”

Castiel could feel the urge to pass out creeping over him. “I don't understand.”

“That's why I'm telling you this. I want you to at least be able to understand.” Uriel sounded very patient, like he was explaining a new battle tactic. “We can't bring Lucifer through unprepared, of course. The walls needed to be thinned and we needed to send an enormous amount of energy into hell. It required sacrifices.” For the first time Castiel saw something like regret in his brother's eyes, but it quickly faded. “It's convenient to time it alongside the portal openings to cover the noise.”

“Sam won't agree to help you. No human would.”

“Oh, his brother fell in line quickly enough.” The way Uriel laughed made the tether pull tighter. “When the boy is faced with either doing as we say or knowing his brother will spend eternity as a monster I think we both know what he'll choose.” Uriel looked up into the darkening sky, as if waiting for a sign. “Well, I think we've wasted enough time now.”

Uriel reached for him and panic gave Castiel one last surge of energy, letting him squirm out of Uriel's grasp for a few seconds. It didn't last long though, Castiel knew it couldn't, and when he tried to cry out again Uriel pressed one hand over his mouth. “Enough of that.” Uriel adjusted his grip to completely cut off Castiel's air and his vision started to go dark at the edges. “Don't look at me like that, brother,” Uriel said, his voice sounding like it came from very far away. “I gave you more than enough chances. You've brought this on yourself.”

***

Castiel woke to rain falling on his face. He blinked for a few moments, trying to regain his bearings; he could still feel the tether and something heavier in addition to it, making his body feel like it weighed thousands of pounds. He could see markings drawn on the ground beneath him but couldn't turn his head to examine them; there was half-charred poster hanging on the wall and Castiel realized he knew this place, this was where he'd marked Dean what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“You should have stayed asleep,” he heard Uriel say. He looked around as much as he was able; there were other angels there, four or five from what Castiel could see. He knew them all. Every one he'd fought with over the centuries and now they looked through him like he was nothing. He wondered how deep this conspiracy really went.

Before Castiel could have another thought one of the angels began chanting and pain tore through him like a spike being driven through his skull. He tried to scream but couldn't; that the bonds held him completely only served to amplify every sensation, turning every instinct his body had to writhe and thrash to get away from this against it. His mouth filled with blood and he felt himself start to choke; gashes opened on his arms and legs and chest as his body began to tear apart, the air filling with the scent of blood. If he could just scream once Castiel thought he might be able to bear it; when it felt like his spine was twisting to come up through his chest he felt his mind begin to shatter. And it was so hot, his skin smoldering where it touched the markings on the pavement. Castiel wondered if he was about to incinerate. Perhaps that was why there were never any bodies.

He'd marked Dean in this place. Castiel made one desperate reach for Dean, for that connection he'd forged without meaning to. Dean would break when he found out what had happened. He would grieve and he would blame himself and he would give in. The demons would have him body and soul and then Sam would follow soon after.

Castiel knew he was dying, there was no stopping that now, but he would be damned if he died without saving Dean Winchester.

Castiel reached through the pain and touched just a spark of that strange power hidden within Dean, holding on tight to it like a last hope. Please. Please work.

Castiel felt the portal form beneath him. For an instant it broke the binding and Castiel slipped free of his ruined body just before the aftershock of energy tore through the alley.

When he opened his eyes again Castiel saw he was in Hell. At first the only sensation he could feel was relief that the pain was gone.

It didn't last. The agony of the sacrifice ritual was gone but Hell had its own kind of pain; Dean's hellfire was a tiny echo of the heat surrounding him now. Castiel held up his hand and saw light leaking from the lines on his palm. That he still looked human at all was a bit of a construct; if Sam was going to trust him he had to look human and if he focused he could keep this form. For a while, anyway; he could feel the place bleeding his power away and Castiel didn't know what would happen when that completed. He doubted the demons would be kind enough to just let him die.

Enough. Castiel picked himself up and focused again on Dean;without the earthly limits on his perceptions Castiel could stretch his senses wide, trying to find anything that resembled the touch of Dean's soul.

He almost couldn't believe it when he actually found one. Castiel knew he couldn't fly in hell so he trudged forward, knowing that feeling this much hope would light him up like a beacon for every demon to see and not quite able to care.

Castiel had never felt so exhausted as when he finally reached the cave where Sam was being held. He wondered how much time had passed on Earth. Probably only seconds. “Sam,” he said, reaching through the spell that kept this place phased out of time. “Wake up. It's time to go home.”

***

Sam didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he knew he'd been walking to school and trying to not drop his science project because stupid Dean had been out all night and still wasn't back.

But this definitely wasn't school. Sam's first thought when he opened his eyes was that maybe he was in one of the caves outside of town. Maybe he'd been kidnapped. That happened sometimes, villains were jerks.

“Sam, you need to wake up.”

Sam shook off the last of the cobwebs and looked up at the man crouching over him. Sam didn't know him but the guy definitely seemed to know him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel, I'm a friend of your brother's. We need to leave this place, now.”

Sam had no problem with that; he got himself to his feet, noticing that Castiel kept one hand on his shoulder, not like he was holding him but like he was trying to stay in contact. “This isn't outside town, is it,” Sam asked, every alarm bell he had going off. “Where are we?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment before answering. “We're in Hell,” he finally said. “You've been held here for most of a year.”

“A year?!”

Castiel pressed one hand over his mouth. “Please be quiet,” he said, looking around. “I don't know how I've gone without being detected but that can't hold for long.”

Sam nodded because yeah, obviously. “I'm in hell? I mean, actually in hell?”

Castiel's lips pursed together. “A dimensional popularly described as hell, but yes. And we should leave. I'm allowing you to be able to withstand this place, if you stay close to me you'll be fine.”

“You're not fine.” Wisps and streaks of light kept escaping from Castiel's lips and eyes and from underneath his nails, seams of it appearing in his skin like he was unraveling.

Castiel only shrugged. “It's been a difficult day. Can you walk?”

Sam nodded, making sure to stay within arm's reach of Castiel. “You said you knew Dean, is he okay?”

Castiel paused before answering that, too. “He'll be better once you're safe.”

Every single thing about this sounded bad. “Okay, then. Where are we going?”

“Right here.” Castiel stopped just a few paces from the mouth of the cave and held one hand out, putting his other back on Sam's shoulder and from the way he was shaking Sam thought it was for balance as much as to keep him close. “Please work again,” Sam heard him whisper, then Sam saw a glimmering white line hover in the air.

“Hey! That's what Dean does!”

“Technically it's Dean doing it, I'm borrowing his power. It's...it's much harder than it looks,” he said, forcing the words out through his teeth. Gouts of light exploded from his back, arcing like two pairs of wings for an instant; his legs buckled and he would have fallen on his face if Sam hadn't been right there to catch him. The line flickered but didn't go out as Sam helped him down to one knee. “I'm not going to be able to go through,” he said, his voice hazy.

“'Course you will,” Sam said, crouching in front of him. “You got this, you're good. You just have to focus, Dean sucked at this too when he was first learning.” That at least drew out a thin smile. Castiel took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes, and in a few seconds the portal was almost big enough for Sam to step through. “See, you got this. Just a little bit more.”

This time Castiel didn't smile. “Sam, I need you to promise something,” he said, so much light bleeding from his eyes Sam couldn't see their color anymore.

“Yeah, of course. You got it.”

“The demons are going to ask you to do something. They're going to ask it in very convincing circumstances and you will feel like you have no choice. I need you to promise me that you will never tell them yes.”

“Why would I ever....”

“Sam.”

Sam had never heard pain like that in someone's voice before. “I promise. Never.”

Something flew past Sam's head, missing him by inches. “The hell was that?” Castiel grabbed him and pulled him closer; Sam saw the thing curve around and race back toward him. As it got close Sam could see it looked like a steel manacle that moved on its own, like a snake.

“Duck.” Sam followed the command and Castiel stood over him, slicing the chain in two with a short silver sword. “Through the portal. Now.”

“No way, it's not big enough for both of us.”

Castiel parried another manacle away before it could wrap around Sam's neck. “It's too late, I couldn't pass through anyway.” This time three came at once; Castiel took care of two of them but the last wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off his feet. Sam was just able to grab him as the chain started to pull him away. “It's all right. Go.”

“It's not....”

“Find Dean. Tell him I---” Sam lost his grip and Castiel went flying back, scraping over the ground. Sam had time to take one step after him before the heat coiled around him. He couldn't breathe and he saw his arms were already red, like he'd been out in the sun for hours.

He already couldn't see Castiel anymore. Just as he bent down to pick up Castiel's dropped sword he heard one far-off cry and knew he'd be hearing that sound for the rest of his life.

The portal was closing. Sam closed his eyes and dove through.

Chapter Text

Sam was so relieved to find himself back home in his city and on streets that he knew that all he wanted to do for a second was curl up and cry.

There wasn't time, though. He had to find Dean and then the two of them had to...Sam didn't know. Fix this somehow. Sam wouldn't be willing to let a total stranger rot away in hell, let alone someone who had just saved his life.

At least finding Dean didn't turn out to be all that difficult; Sam had walked less than two blocks before he heard his brother arguing with someone, another male voice Sam didn't know. He stayed close to the wall, inching forward until he felt brave enough to peek around the corner. It definitely was Dean getting in the face of an older guy Sam had never seen before, although something about him made the hairs on Sam's neck stand up. They were standing in front of a scar from a failed portal, something Sam had seen a lot of from when Dean had still been getting the hang of things. “I don't know why it failed, that hasn't happened since I was a kid. It felt like there was some interference, it happens. That's why you have to be careful where you place the stupid things.”

“Well, this one needs to happen here.” The other man spoke in a weird cadence, sing-songing the syllables. “Try again.”

Sam saw Dean square his shoulders and try, but nothing happened. “No go,” Dean said. “It's all scarred up, gonna take a week until this spot is good again. Minimum.”

The other man let out a sigh Sam thought could be seen from space. “Well, that will be some inconvenience but fortunately not for me. Until next week.” Sam ducked back into a doorway, expecting the guy to have to walk past, but when after a few seconds nothing happened Sam peeked back out and saw he was just gone, like he'd disappeared.

Sam was just happy Dean was still there, glaring at the ruined wall and rubbing his shoulder like it hurt. Finally Dean seemed to just give up with a shrug and started out, wincing again at the shoulder.

Sam stepped right into his path. “Hey, Dean.”

It was the look on Dean's face that convinced Sam he really had been gone a year. “Sammy?” He reached one hand for Sam and stopped himself short, like he thought Sam might be a ghost. “You can't...there's no way....”

“It's really me, Dean, I swear.”

Sam went in for a hug and Dean backed away, both hands up. “Don't! You gotta stay back.”

“What? Why?”

“Long story.” Then Dean did wrap Sam up in an enormous if very careful hug. “Fuck, Sam, I missed you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said when Dean finally let him go. “Yeah, I'm fine but that guy you sent after me isn't. Dean, he's in a lot of trouble.”

“What guy? I didn't send anyone after you, I didn't even think that was possible.”

“What do you mean? He said he was your friend. He had...I don't know, dark hair, maybe a little shorter than you? He said his name was Castiel.”

Sam had never seen anyone go so pale so fast. “Cas? How could he...Cas busted you out?”

“Yeah. He saved me twice, once waking me up and then again when they tried to grab me back. I don't know what his power is but he looked like he was unraveling down there.”

“How could Cas even get to hell?”

“He said he was borrowing your mojo. Dean, tell me what's going on.”

Dean just stared at the blackened scar on the wall, rubbing his shoulder. “Shouldn't be too hard to find where the last one opened.” He grabbed Sam's arm. “Hang on, Sam,” Dean said, his arm already stretched toward the wall opposite the scar, then he shoved Sam through the portal the instant it was open.

Sam's head spun as he stumbled through the portal. “I hate it when you do that, Dean!” he said, dropping to his knees until the wooziness faded. “You're getting better though, last time you tried that blind we wound up on different sides of the city.”

Dean didn't answer and and when Sam looked up he understood why. The alley looked like a bomb had gone off, all the windows blasted out and the fire escape of one of the buildings hanging at an angle. Along all the walls were the black impressions of huge wings, like someone had stenciled them there.

And in the middle of all the wreckage Sam saw a dark haired man lying very still.

Dean was at the guy's side like a shot, Sam close behind. Dean went down to his knees at Castiel's side and Sam had never seen his brother look like that. “He opened it right in their faces,” Dean said, his voice low and dangerous. “Serves the sons of bitches right.”

Sam really couldn't bring himself to disagree. As bad as Castiel had looked in hell he looked even worse here, bleeding from dozens of wounds and his half-open eyes vacant. Sam was shocked when he felt for the pulse point in Castiel's neck and found a heartbeat. “Dean, he has a pulse. He's alive.” Dean didn't seem to hear and Sam grabbed his arm to snap him out of the shock. “Dean!” Dean's head snapped forward to look at him, strange black and red flames surrounding him for an instant. “Dean, he's alive. But he's losing a ton of blood, we gotta get him to the hospital.”

Sam saw that break through. “Yeah. Yeah, if his body dies Cas won't have anything to come back to.”

That didn't make sense but Sam didn't care, as long as Dean was talking. “Can we port' him there?”

Dean shook his head. “He won't make it. Go hot wire that car on the corner, we have to drive him.”

“Do you want me to help with him? I can...”

“I got him, Sam. I got him. Go get the car.”

Sam backed out of the alley, not wanting to take his eyes off of Dean. Right before he turned the corner to run for the car he saw Dean examine something around Castiel's neck and slide it into his pocket.

***

Sam got the full story – as much of it as Dean was willing to tell, at any rate, Sam knew his brother well enough to be able to spot when he was leaving stuff out – sitting on a hard bench outside Lawrence City General's intensive care unit. Angels and demons and what Dean had been doing this past year to get him back. Why Dean was so careful not to touch him.

Sam hadn't known it was possible to feel so guilty. “How many people died because of me?”

“Don't think like that, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong, they used you to get to me. Blame me if you have to blame someone.”

Sam leaned his head against the cool of the wall. “I don't think that's true.” Dean started to argue again and Sam shook his head. “When we were in hell Castiel said that the demons were going to ask me to do something but didn't have time to say what. He made me promise not to do it. So that means they wanted me just as much as you. It's both our faults.”

“Nah,” Dean said after a long, quiet moment. “It's the demons' fault, and we'll make sure they get theirs as soon as we get Cas back.”

“What did the nurse say when you talked to her before?” Dean had been scary quiet from the second they got Castiel's body in the car and Sam just wanted to keep him talking.

“Nothing good. They're still trying to figure out what could do that to a person.”

Sam watched him dangle the chain he'd taken from Castiel's neck from his fingers and examine the dim light trapped inside the crystal. “What is that?”

“Cas,” Dean said, holding it up to the light so Sam could have a better look. “A piece of him anyway, or at least that's what he told me. It's usually a lot brighter than this.” He tapped the edge of the cut crystal. “I'm betting when his body finally goes this goes out too.”

“So if that goes out, it means he's dead?”

“Good as. It means he has nowhere to go even if we can get him out. This is our countdown.”

Sam watched the faint light flicker for a moment before steadying. “Then we better get moving.”

“Way ahead of you, Sammy. You think I'd be sitting here if I had something else I could be doing?” Dean closed his eyes, sweeping his hands over the air as if over a map only he could see. “The city's Swiss cheese and that's on me. If I'm gonna open a portal down to hell one more time it's gotta be in a place where it's gonna cause the least damage. I've been looking for the right place.”

“And you found it, right?”

That was a very, very grim smile on Dean's face. “We're going to Stull.”

Sam was sure he must have heard Dean wrong. “Stull Cemetery?”

“You know any other places called Stull in this town?”

“What are we gonna do, open a portal right over Dad's grave?”

“Nah. That would be weird.” Dean's voice was calm but his hands were trembling. “We're doing it over Mom's.”

“Jesus, Dean, that's....”

“Dad only started in this business because of what happened to her. Kind of makes sense that this all comes around. Hell, maybe she'll help, God knows we need it.”

“Okay. Okay, so you open the portal. Then what's the plan.”

Dean shrugged. “Then I go in and pull Cas out. Easy peasy.”

“Dean, you're really starting to freak me out.”

“Trust me, I'm not doing so well myself.” Dean held his shoulder, his breath hissing through his teeth for a few long seconds. “I can't leave another person I...I can't leave him there. I gotta try. I couldn't get you but I can get him.” He flexed his right hand, making red and black flames dance in the center of his palm. “It's not like this whole year hasn't been one long march into hell anyway.” He closed his palm to snuff out the flames. “I'm gonna drop you back at the motel on my way to Stull. Cas has the place all magicked up, it should keep out anything.”

“Like hell you are.”

“Sam, don't argue, I don't have the time for it. They've gotta noticed you're gone, I can't do this while I'm wondering whether the demons snatched you back the second my back's turned.”

“There's no way you're leaving me out.”

“Sam....”

“Don't Sam me. I'm the one who's actually been there, not you. Just because you can do fire tricks now doesn't mean you'll be able to take it down there. What if you can't open a portal to get back? Castiel looked like he was about to keel over when he'd tried that.”

“I don't know what you're....”

“I'll hold the portal open. We've done that before, as long as I'm half in, half out it'll stay open and you guys can go back the way you came. It's the only way this is going to work.”

“Every demon in hell and Earth is gonna be after you, what's your plan for when they show up?”

Sam looked around to make sure there was nobody watching. “I'll use this,” he said, pulling Castiel's sword out of his backpack. He laid it across his lap, guilt flaring back up for a second. “He dropped it when...when they grabbed him.” It took Sam a second to push that memory back down as deep as it could go. “I think it looks like it can help me kill a demon if I have to, right?”

Dean stroked his fingers down the blade, wincing a little like the metal was hot. “I'd say it does, yeah.”

“And besides, I have to be there to give it back to him.”

Dean rested his arms on his knees as he looked at Sam. “You're a pretty good kid.”

Sam had to look away from Dean and back at the sword. Dean wasn't as sparse with compliments as their father had been but it still caught him off guard to hear them. “Yeah, well, you've been hanging out with demons all year. Like I can trust your judgment.” That got something very close to a real smile out of Dean. “How's he look?” Sam said, nodding to the necklace still clutched in Dean's fist.

Dean held the necklace up to the light and Sam could tell at a glance the light was dimmer. “Like he's getting tired of waiting around for us to rescue him already.”

Sam nodded, the sword already back in his bag. “Then we'd better move.”

They didn't even make it back to the car. Dean noticed first, pulling up short at Sam's side. “Oh fuck, not now.”

Sam looked around and felt his heart push up into his throat. Lawrence General was on one of the busier streets in the city but everything was absolutely silent. The people walking by were frozen in place, some caught midstride and others midword, their mouths hanging open like they'd all forgotten what they were about to say. All of the cars were stopped, the light at the intersection paused mid-change from yellow to red. Even the pigeons were frozen.

Sam could tell Dean hadn't noticed any of that. His brother's eyes were locked on a man dressed in green and purple leaning against their front fender. “Well, you can't say I didn't give you ample warning,” he said, pointing the question mark staff in their direction.

“Sam, run,” Dean said, shoving Sam behind him. “Trickster, leave him alone.”

“That's the Trickster?” No one ever saw the Trickster, his goons practically treated him like a god and could never be made to talk. Sam had been half-convinced he was a myth.

“Good to meet a fan,” Trickster said, something Sam could tell was supposed to be mocking but instead came out raw and angry. “I told you what I'd do if he was in front of me, Dean. I can't have you thinking I'm a liar.”

“You're not gonna lay a hand on Sam.”

“See, that's the beauty of all this,” Trickster said, the end of the staff glowing white. “I don't have to be anywhere near him. Sorry kiddo, but you should have been dead a long time ago.”

Dean stepped right in front of Sam. “No way in hell I'm letting you touch my brother.”

“This is really not the time to bring up hell and brothers in the same sentence.”

That was meaningless to Sam but he felt Dean freeze up for an instant and he ducked out from behind Dean to see all the color drain from his face. “That's the same kind of light,” Dean whispered, like some horrible puzzle piece had just clicked into place. “You're one of them.”

“Give the boy a hand.” Sam felt energy crackle through the air, the Trickster's eyes glowing white as enormous wings of shadow spread out on the pavement behind him. “Now hold still.”

“That's why you bounced Cas all over that alley, he knew who you were. You didn't want him to blow your cover.”

“If I'd known what befriending you would do I would have put him out of his misery then and there.”

“And where the hell were you when all of that was happening? Or any of the others? Too busy slumming around here with the humans.” Sam tried to pull him back when Dean stormed up to get right in the Trickster's face but Dean wasn't having it. “Cas told me they put the one taken out before him through so much pain he couldn't even scream and from the looks of him Cas went the same way. Where the hell were you?”

For the first time Trickster looked a little unsure. “I don't take sides against my family.”

“I hate to break it to you, genius, but that's exactly what you did.” That reckless sneer was on Dean's face, the one Sam knew always led right to the emergency room. “Tell the truth. You were scared. That's why you never show your face, you're afraid one of them,” he said, gesturing at the sky, “would notice you. You AWOL? That why you shut Cas up before he could say your name?”

Trickster refused to confirm or deny. “All you had to do was leave town like I'd ordered. Nothing would have been able to happen if you'd just have gotten over yourself.”

“Yeah, I'm not willing to let my brother rot, unlike some people.”

Trickster swung his staff right for Dean's head; Dean ducked, the staff getting close enough to leave a bloody graze on his temple, then he tumbled back out of the line of fire and came back up on his feet, his fists wreathed with flame.

Sam put a stop to the fight the only way he could think of. “Go ahead and kill me.”

That pulled them both up short, and to Sam's immense relief. He hadn't been sure if they'd been too far gone to even hear him. “Sammy, no,” Dean said before Sam cut him off.

“You need to kill me because of what the demons want me to do, right? Because I'm that dangerous?”

“You have no idea how dangerous you are.”

“Then you'd better kill me. You said nothing would have happened if Dean had left, but he wouldn't have done anything if the demons hadn't wanted me in the first place. That makes all of this my fault, not his.”

“Sam, that's not....”

“I got this, Dean.” Sam took one step closer; the power radiating from the Trickster – or whatever he was, really – made it hard to breathe, his chest tight like he'd run too far too fast and hadn't gotten his wind back yet. “You need to kill me, I say go ahead. A lot of people died because of me, it's only fair.”

“Well, at least one of the Winchesters is capable of being reasonable.” He raised his staff and Sam sent another warning glance Dean's way, shaking his head no when Dean took a step forward anyway.

Sam waited until the staff was level with his head before speaking again. “Only you gotta wait until tomorrow to do it.”

“Always a catch,” Trickster said, his voice trying for amused but his eyes too wild and angry to allow it. “Why should I do that.”

Sam felt a bead of sweat slide down his back. “'Cause we're about to go bust Castiel out of hell and it might take us the whole rest of the day.”

Sam had never seen anyone look so angry and he'd grown up with John Winchester. “Castiel's dead. Just like all of the others.”

“Sam's right.” Trickster's head turned toward Dean like it was on a swivel as Dean held up Castiel's necklace. “I got Cas' bling right here,” he said, making the crystal swing like a pendulum, “and it still looks like it's glowing to me.”

The look on the Trickster's face was the exact same one Sam had seen on Dean's a few hours earlier. “But that's...how is that....”

“Cas got a little creative but he's stuck now. We're going to get him.”

Trickster shook his head. “That's not possible. Nothing comes out of hell but demons.”

“I got out,” Sam said and Trickster turned to look back at him. “Castiel got me out, I owe him.” Sam stepped as close to Trickster as he dared, his heart beating so fast he felt light-headed. “So here's the deal: it's my fault this all happened and when this is over you can kill me for it if you want. But right now Castiel's in trouble and if he dies because you wouldn't let us go, that one's all on you.” Sam swallowed hard. “So what's it gonna be?”

Trickster looked from Sam to Dean and back again, as if he was sure one of them had to be lying and was desperate to find the proof. After the tensest ten seconds of Sam's life the shadow wings receded; like a switch had been flipped: the street came back to life, the sudden noise so loud Sam winced. People started to gawk and point but Sam didn't think Trickster noticed. “Where do you have to go to open the portal?”

“Stull Cemetery,” Dean said. “You gonna back off the car and let us go, already?”

“I can do better than that.” Before either of them could protest Trickster touched them both on the shoulder and Sam felt space roar around him, like the beat of impossibly enormous wings.

***

Dean went down to one knee in front of his mother's gravestone, brushing away some dead flowers obscuring her name. “Sorry I haven't visited in a while,” he said, wishing for what felt like the thousandth time that the marble could talk back. “Been a crazy year.”

With that Dean stood and backed up a few paces; looking around to make sure Sam and their new friend had stepped back out of earshot like he'd asked. He'd said he'd needed to concentrate and while that was technically true, it wasn't the real reason he'd asked them to stay away.

He'd felt the summons tickle at the back of his skull while they'd still been at the hospital, right in the middle of plotting the path they'd take. He'd been able to ignore it at first but it kept getting louder, like a cell phone alarm he kept putting off answering and almost as agonizing as the pain radiating from the brand on his shoulder. Patience wasn't one of Alastair's very few virtues and Dean knew if he didn't answer soon the demon would just take it upon himself to investigate. Dean would prefer Sam be on another planet entirely from Alastair but if a few dozen yards away was the best he could manage Dean would take it. “Okay, you miserable son of a bitch,” Dean said, talking to the air. “Come and tell me what you want.”

Alastair materialized in front of him, less than a foot of space between them. “You always say the nicest things.”

Dean felt off balance immediately; he'd expected Alastair to be irate that Sam had escaped but the demon actually looked close to giddy. “I miss something?”

“When you said you'd had it handled I didn't expect you to do this well,” he said, with just enough inflection in his voice that Dean couldn't tell whether that was sarcasm.

“What do you think I did?”

“You sent a living angel into hell,” Alastair said, leaning forward to whisper in Dean's ear like this was a delightful secret. “I know the signature of your power anywhere. I never should have doubted you.”

This was a test. Alastair's tone couldn't hide the sharp way he looked at Dean, like he was trying to gauge his response. “Anyone down there touches him I'll rip their hands off.”

“Of course. You should have first dibs, after all.”

Castiel had told him that demons fed on pain and fear and for the first time Dean realized that hadn't been a metaphor. “You're not keeping him.”

“And what are you planning to do?” Alastair said, circling around him. “You can't just walk in and walk out, you're not...finished enough for that. Even if you do go in you won't be able to escape. There are demons born there who never manage that.”

“I got a plan for that.”

“I'm sure.” He craned his neck to look over Dean's shoulder. “Is it the same one Sam had? That seemed to have a few flaws.”

“You don't even get to look at my brother,” Dean said, moving to block Alastair's line of sight. “You and me, we are done. You summon me again, I rip your head off.”

Alastair sighed. “I'm sure you'll try. You did promise us a year.”

“A year as long as you had Sam. I got him back, you don't have anything on me now.”

“I don't need Sam for that, Dean. Not anymore.” Dean hated when Alastair smiled like that. “All I need to have you is this,” he said, grabbing Dean's wrist and running one fingertip down Dean's blackened veins. He pulled Dean forward with a sudden jerk, holding him there almost close enough to kiss. “Be honest, now. A part of you wants to see what's happening to that angel right now. You're wondering if it's screaming and what that would sound like now that it's free of the meatsuit. In your mind you're picturing how deep you would have to push in the knife before it starts to sob.”

God help him, Dean knew that was true. Every word sent the hellfire crawling under his skin like a swarm of insects. Very hungry insects. “I'll never hurt Cas.”

“Of course you will. It's what you are.” Alastair pulled out his knife, holding it out to Dean hilt first. “This is yours if you want it, Dean,” he said. “Open the portal and come with me. We'll do it together. There's still so much I have to teach you.”

For a terrifying moment the ground swayed under his feet as his lips tried to form the word yes. Dean closed his eyes and thought about Cas, trying to reach out and hold the way his eyes went wide just before he came, the little hitch in his breath when he would say Dean's name. The way his lips would just brush against Dean's and way he would trail his fingers down Dean's back, lingering over each spot that made him jump. After a few seconds of clinging to that like a man drowning Dean felt the earth under him grow solid again.

Dean had a good reason to arrange to meet Alastair on his mother's grave. He opened his eyes and pressed his right hand to the center of the demon's chest. For an instant Alastair's expression was exultant, sure this was his yes.

That didn't last long. “I said we're done.” Dean tapped his power, pulling it up from his core until he felt it vibrate through his bones. He didn't know how to actually kill a demon, especially not one as strong as Alastair.

But Dean figured this was the next best thing. Alastair didn't have time to do anything but scream as the portal formed in his chest, first that thin sliver of light and then a circle eating away at everything around it. There was an instant of resistance, like Alastair was putting everything he had into fleeing, then the demon's body flew apart, chunks of gore raining down. Dean hadn't expected it to be so messy but figured it hadn't gone so bad for a first try.

He gave the signal and the other two ran over, Trickster clearly impressed by the mess while Sam looked like he wanted to vomit. The portal in front of him pulsed with power as Dean bent down to retrieve Alastair's fallen knife. “Thanks for the knife, though. Might come in handy.” He waved Sam over before the kid could berate him for being so ghoulish. “You sure you got this?”

Sam nodded, stepping forward with one foot on either side of the portal. “Piece of cake. Just don't get lost.” Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at Trickster, taking the moment to glare anything happens to him I end you, then he dove through the portal without another backward glance.

Considering how far gone he was Dean had expected to be able to stand hell without any problems but it was still so hot he couldn't breathe for a second. Stinging heat rash broke out over his exposed arms and Dean clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might start to crack. There was no way he was coming this far only to get defeated in the first thirty seconds.

After a few minutes Dean thought he'd acclimated as much as he'd be able. He fished Castiel's necklace out of his pocket and fastened it around his neck. “All right,” he said, scanning the bleak landscape. “Find your way home.”

Dean held his breath as the crystal charm lifted off his chest, hovering in the air for a second before slowly drifting to the right. Dean shifted his position until the crystal stayed steady, pointing toward Castiel like an angelic dowsing rod. “Hang on a little longer, Cas,” Dean whispered, watching the light in the charm flicker for a few seconds before righting itself. “I'm on my way.”

***

Dean had no idea how long he walked. Hell looked like every dystopia movie's version of the Outback and it would be easier if Castiel would stay in one place but Dean knew that was unrealistic when everything down here was hunting him. Dean followed the path the crystal set and tried to not think about what he might see when he found Cas; he'd expected trouble from the other demons but on the rare occasion he saw one they looked through him like he was a ghost, sometimes squinting a little like they thought something might be there before giving up. Dean supposed in a way ghost wasn't so far off – he wasn't quite human anymore but still not demon and for once that terrible in between was a blessing.

He didn't start really panicking until Castiel stopped moving. Dean broke into a run, scrambling over a rocky outcrop to see Castiel pinned under a demon, trying to fight her off but not getting anywhere. She had a knife like Alastair's and she grabbed a handful of Castiel's hair as she raised the blade.

She never brought it down. Dean threw his own knife out of pure instinct and it buried itself deep into the demon's right eye. She fell backwards howling and Dean leaped down on top of her, wrenching the knife free and slashing it across her throat. She spasmed and choked for several seconds before going still, dissolving into acrid black smoke that roiled around Dean before finally dissipating.

Dean knew he shouldn't do that again. Just that quick kill had hit his system like a drug and he knew that if he indulged too many times there really would be nothing left of him.

He heard Castiel shift behind him, the sound belonging to something much larger than what his eyes had told him was there.

When he turned around he felt his mind break for an amazing, awful instant.

Dean's eyes couldn't make sense of Castiel. It was like looking at a living kaleidoscope, pieces shifting and reforming as Dean watched. He was enormous and human sized, six winged and two winged all at once, a series of different faces all more terrifying than the next shifting into each other as if Dean's mind kept switching which one it liked best.

And stretched over all of that was the remnants of Castiel's human form stretched and shredding like an unraveling sweater. Dean? he felt rather than heard. How are you here? Even though Castiel's voice wasn't sound in any way Dean could define it he still felt the urge to shout over it.

Dean shrugged. “It's kind of what I do, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head – or heads or wings, Dean had no idea what he was looking at but never wanted to stop. You can't be here. You'll burn.

“That's why we're leaving,” Dean said, holding out one hand. “C'mon, Sam and some idiot brother of yours are waiting.”

I can't. Dean, I can't pass through a portal, I'm not strong enough to hold cohesion. Even if I had a vessel....

“You do. For a little bit longer, anyway,” Dean said, panic starting to come back as the light in the crystal began to sputter.

...Even with a vessel I wouldn't make it.

“I figured that. I do know how this works pretty well, y'know. You're gonna hitch a ride with me.”

It seemed to take a moment for Dean's meaning to sink in. No. You'll die.

“You said I could be a vessel....”

But not my vessel.

“I can be yours until we get out of here. It's the only way, Cas., I'm not going back to patrolling solo. Got too used to having a partner again.”

I will not kill you, Dean.

The more agitated Castiel got the louder the not-voice became. Dean stepped as close as he could without the power pouring from Castiel knocking him off his feet; as it was he felt his knees start to buckle and had to brace himself. “I am not leaving here without you,” he shouted. “I'm not even sure I can, not without you powering me up. But that doesn't matter, either we both go or we both stay. You wanna stay, fine, I'll stay right here with you and you can watch me burn.” Dean took one step closer, holding out his hand out again. “So what's it gonna be, Cas? We getting out of here together or are you gonna kill me after all?”

Castiel hesitated for another handful of seconds, despair visible on him like the word was written across his skin. Dean held his breath as Castiel finally reached out one glowing hand.

The energy slammed into Dean like a jetliner; he staggered back as he felt Castiel rush through him, filling his veins the way the hellfire did and reaching into every empty places the last year had hollowed out. For a second he felt like he was drowning, the power pushing him deep, deep down into a little corner of his mind Dean knew he would never escape.

Dean exhaled and the feeling passed. The power evened out and suddenly it was just him and Cas, they were together and Dean realized this was all he had ever really wanted.

***

Dean stumbled through the portal, falling to his knees as Sam tried to hold him up. “Hospital,” he gasped out. The light in the crystal was barely a flicker. “Gotta get....”

Dean never had to finish the sentence; Trickster tapped his shoulder and Dean found himself in the ICU staring down at Castiel's body. There was a long, terrifying second as the machines began to drone, the spiked readout of Cas' heartbeat turning into a thin line. Dean rushed forward and pressed one hand to Castiel's chest, releasing all that power in one convulsive rush; the shockwave destroyed every machine in the room, the alarms going dead and sparks leaping from the metal surfaces.

The power inside him was gone but Castiel stayed very still. “C'mon,” Dean said, checking for a pulse and finding nothing. “C'mon, we got back in time, I know we did.” He started chest compressions, watching Cas' face for any signs of life. The hospital hadn't had him on a breathing tube and Dean tipped his chin back, trying a rescue breath that also did nothing.

Cas' lips were turning blue when Dean tried breathing for him one more time. “Come on,” he whispered, his lips still close enough to touch Castiel's. “You can do this.” Dean kissed him, just brushing his lips the way Cas often did to him. The handprint didn't even hurt anymore. “Cas, I need you to wake up. Please.”

Castiel gasped. Dean let his knees finally buckle as Cas' eyes opened, searching around the room in a panic until finding Dean. “You are so fucking dramatic,” Dean said. Castiel's brow furrowed and Dean couldn't think of anything he'd ever wanted to see more. “Shhh,” he said, carefully running his fingers through Cas' hair. “You need to rest now. You're gonna be okay.” Castiel nodded, his eyes already fluttering closed again as his hand squeezed tight around Dean's. “And Cas, I swear to God, if you ever pull a stunt like that again I'm going to leave you there,” Dean promised, both of them knowing he didn't mean a word of it.

***

Sam kept one eye on the Trickster sprawled out on the bench beside him. “Are you keeping the doctors and nurses and stuff out of there?” he said, nodding to Castiel's room. “They should be swarming everywhere.”

Trickster shrugged. “It's not as hard as you'd think.”

“You know people are staring, right?”

Another shrug. “Let them. It's been a while since I made the front page.” He waved at an orderly taking a picture of him on her phone, which Sam was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to have.

“Are you in trouble now?” Sam asked, trying to distract Trickster from his adoring public. “All of them are going to know you helped us before too long.”

He let out a heavy sigh, tapping his cane against the floor. “They probably know now,” he admitted. He shook his head, taking off his hat and running his hands through his hair. “I knew the plan, I'm high up enough that there aren't a lot of secrets. It's not even the worst thing they've thought up, to tell you the truth. I knew a long time ago this was all going to set us against each other and I just...I wanted no part of it. I hoped they would just leave me alone.”

“You did kind of take a side, though, even just by bugging the hell out of Dean.”

“Well. Just because I wasn't willing to fist fight my family to the death to keep them from ending this world doesn't mean I actually wanted them to end it. I have henchmen I'm responsible for and I'm pretty sure that would void all of their contracts.”

“I always wondered if there were contracts.”

“I strictly deal with freelance now. The union is just too big a hassle.”

“I don't believe Dean was right about there being a union.” Sam knew this was a weird conversation to be having with a superpowered being who'd tried to kill him but it had been that kind of day. “Are they gonna come after you?”

“Most of them either wouldn't bother or wouldn't dare. And the two or so who would be a problem...well, I'll cross that bridge when it's collapsing under me, I guess.” He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Gabriel,” he finally said. “You may as well know the 'real' name, considering all the mush going on in there we're almost family already.”

“Sam Winchester. Y'know. Just so we're properly introduced and all. Wouldn't want to be rude or anything.”

“Oh no, never.”

It felt good to be able to laugh at something. “So what happens now?” Sam said, letting that moment pass. “I mean...are you still going to kill me or not?”

Sam felt Gabriel's sharp eyes examine him from under his mask. “Not yet.”

Then Sam blinked and the angel was gone.

Chapter Text

Dean, Cas and Sam were just dividing up patrol for the night when the Trickster just appeared. “I have a proposition.”

Dean's knife was out before he even finished his sentence. “I propose you go away and leave us the hell alone.”

Trickster put his hands up.”Relax, I come in peace or whatever it is you humans like to say. Since threatening didn't work I'm going to resort to asking nicely: Will the three of you please leave this city and never come back?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “See, now this is just sad.”

“I'm not done. Let me sweeten the pot.” He snapped his fingers and a spotless Chevy Impala materialized, replacing the stolen, junked out Dodge that had been sitting in that spot. “Ta-da.”

“Dean, is that...” Sam started but Dean was way ahead of him.

“It can't be, it's been wrecked since....”

“Since your father, I know,” Trickster finished for him. “I fixed it for you. Because we're friends.”

“Because you want us to leave.”

“Mostly that.”

Dean crouched next to the car, looking in the window. Even the little flaws in the upholstery were the way Dean remembered them. “I don't get it,” he said, tearing himself away from his car. “I mean I get why you wanted me to leave before, but why now?”

Trickster sighed, leaning against the Impala and it look all of Dean's willpower to keep from telling him to get away from his baby's fender. “You may not realize this, but you three haven't been left alone because of your collective charm and good looks.” He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly looking as exhausted as Dean had ever seen someone. “This city is a locus. The walls between the planes are thin to start with, that's why everyone's is clustered here. I can handle the demons and I can even handle the angels, but I can't handle both on top of the three of you causing more damage.”

“Look, we haven't....”

“You're being hunted, all three of you, and the highest concentration of the things hunting you in the world are in Lawrence. Believe me, before long you'll cause damage whether you mean to or not.” He looked directly at Dean. “Do you know how the walls will heal?”

Dean blinked at that. “I mean...just time.”

“No.” He snapped his fingers again and Dean could see the weaknesses in the dimensional walls, both the scars he'd caused and the other paper thin areas where anything could slip through. “As long as beings from other dimensions are here the walls won't heal,” Dean heard, the vision taking him all over the city. “Now the angels don't make much of an imprint, there aren't enough of us, but the demons.” He snapped his fingers again and Dean suddenly got an angel's eye view of just how many demons were infesting his city. “As long as they're here the walls won't heal. And it's worst here, don't get me wrong, but this is a world wide problem.”

He snapped his fingers again and Dean's vision snapped back to normal; he glanced over at Sam and saw he'd gone pale enough to be sure he'd seen the same thing. “So,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You said you had a proposition.”

“Oh, now you want to talk. Fine. We need demons either destroyed or sent back to hell. Between the three of you there's probably no one more qualified to do that. Leave Lawrence to me, I need to stay here so I'm not surprised by any impromptu family reunions. The three of you go out and start taking care of everywhere else. Get all of your cape friends in on the act for all I care. Just stay out of my hair and I'll let you know if and when it's time to make sure every portal is closed for good.” He made eye contact with all three of them, staying on Dean the longest. “If you leave by dawn, I'll know we have a deal. And if you don't I'm keeping the car.” And with that he disappeared.

Dean felt like his head was spinning. “Okay. Okay,” he said, looking at the impossible car and still expecting to see torn metal and blood stains. “What do we think? Cas? You've been quiet.”

Castiel thinned his lips for a moment. “Can we trust him?”

“Pfff. No,” Dean said. “But I think he's on the level, or as on the level as he gets. It's just....” Dean sighed, studying his reflection in the Impala's hood. “This is our city, Cas. You don't leave your city like this, especially because some dick orders you to.”

“It's always gonna be our city, Dean,” Sam said. “But, I don't know. Maybe we could let him borrow it for a little bit.”

“Sam....”

“C'mon, Dean, think. We're the only ones who know how bad this is. We've gotta get that out so people at least know what to look for. Think how fast Bobby could get this out through the comm center, or through Jo and Ellen.”

It felt like forever since Dean had spoken to any of the heroes he'd once considered family. “Let's sit on it,” Dean said, desperate to put off a decision he felt like he'd already made. “We have until dawn. One last patrol through Lawrence, all three of us.” Dean hadn't realized what he'd said until the words were out but then didn't feel like taking it back. “We make this city sing so that if we do go everyone remembers who really owns this town.”

***

Dean idled the car at the city limits line, waiting for dawn to light up the sky so he could wring out every last moment. Sam was sacked out in the back and Cas was beside him and everything had felt so right all night he wasn't sure how this had even been a hard decision.

“Are you sure of your path, Dean?”

Dean looked over at him. “Our path, Cas.”

Castiel conceded that, looking up at the fading stars. “This is the longest I've ever been away from the garrison,” he said. “I know I can never go back and what I thought was there was a lie but I still grieve it. I don't want you to do the same.”

Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel, drawing out a little sigh of surprise. “Let me tell you a secret, Cas,” he said. “I fought leaving because I wasn't gonna let anyone kick me out and I blustered because my dad would bluster but the reason I wouldn't run for it was because I knew what I'd be missing. Sam. My baby here,” he said, running his hands over the dashboard. “Stuff I didn't even know I'd be missing.” He glanced at Castiel and hoped he'd understood that meaning. “I've been running it through my head all night, what I'd be leaving behind, and it's just a lot of ghosts.”

“But you may never see your home again.”

Dean revved the engine. “That's what I'm saying, Cas. Behind me's my city and it always will be, and I'm damn sure coming back and that jerk better take care of her. But this is the first time I've been home in a long, long time. And you are too.” Dean triggered his fire, letting the flame hover over his palm. “Level with me, Cas. I'm gonna have to open portals to send demons back to Hell, Trickster all but said that. Is this gonna keep getting worse?”

“When you opened the portal to find me it didn't cause nearly the scar we've seen with the others and you weren't infected further,” Castiel said, reaching for Dean's other hand and running his thumb across Dean's palm as if to prove his point. “So we know it's possible, if we're careful. I think it's possible Alastair was intentionally damaging you.”

“Wouldn't be surprised.”

“And even if this does make it worse, we'll find ways to manage it.” Cas leaned back against the headrest. “I'd grown to enjoy patrolling,” he said, sounding almost wistful.

“You make it sound like we're gonna stop. Just more focused now, that's all. And we'll still find time for the regular kind, I promise. There's a lot of world out there besides Lawrence waiting for us to show them how it's done.” Dawn was coming. “You ready?”

Castiel squeezed his hand. “I'd like to see your world, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Me too.”

“Is it safe or are you two gonna make out some more?” Sam called from the back seat.

Dean set the car in drive and pressed on the gas. “Get used to it, Sammy,” he said, putting in the first tape he found and turning up the volume. It was about time he introduced Cas to Led Zeppelin. “Time to go hunting.”

-fin-