Chapter One

Dean Winchester opened his eyes. It wasn't so much a thought as it was a feeling that this time he knew he wasn't meant to live when Metatron stuck him with the angel blade. Not that Dean ever tried to play by fate's rules, but being alive again felt wrong. There wasn't a simpler way to put it. When Dean first realized that he could open his eyes, he simply wished he could have closed them again forever.

But instead, he blinked.

Then, he sat up in his bed. The one that he called his own since him and his brother called this place home. That was who he was hoping to see when he woke up. Little brother Sammy, though gigantic, was a source of comfort, and regardless of how bad he felt, Dean wanted to know exactly what Sam had done to bring him back this time and yell at him for it. So when Dean turned to see Crowley standing next to his bed staring over him, he went ballistic.

Sam was halfway through finishing a swig of brandy and a thought of regret when he heard the loud ruckus from Dean's bedroom. Immediately, he was up and running, not even thinking about grabbing his gun. He slid across the hallways of the Men of Letter's bunker on the slippery stone floors, making every sharp turn until he reached the hall of Dean's bedroom. Before he even made it to the entrance, Sam saw Dean run out of his room and crash into the wall of the hallway.

"DEAN!" Sam called out and went to his brother, who was leaning heavily against the cold stone walls and covering his face with the forearm of his right arm, which was still gripping the first blade tightly. "Dean, what-how-" Sam couldn't finish his sentence. He noticed that Dean had something in his left hand.

"Sammy, don't look at me-" Dean started. Sam yanked at his brother's arms until he got one loose. It was the left one, which was holding a silver desk mirror.

"Dean what's this for?" Sam asked. Dean kept silent. "Dean!" Sam pulled at his brother's right arm harder than before, and Dean let him pull his arm from his face. Dean looked up at his brother, seemingly ashamed, and then looked down. Sam was confused.

"Dean what's wrong?" Sam asked. "You're alive… How-"

Sam heard a throat clear behind him. He turned to see Crowley standing nonchalantly with a look of slight disinterest.

"Hello Sam," Crowley greeted. Sam was shocked.

"You did this? You brought him back?" He asked. Crowley nodded, unimpressed. "I can't believe it." He pulled back his shaggy, brown hair in disbelief.

"What can I say, Dean's earned a place in the blackened charcoal pit I call a heart," Crowley said sarcastically. "Really though, no trouble at all."

"The douche-wad didn't save me" Dean piped up finally. Crowley rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Sam, you really can't see it?" Dean asked.

"Dean, see what?" Sam gave his brother a quizzical look. Dean sighed heavily and closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them to reveal his black, demonic eyes.

Sam was paralyzed in shock for a brief second and turned to charge at Crowley.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM, CROWLEY?!" Sam charged and had to stop because Crowley was no longer where he expected him to be.

"Sam, your brother's back, that's what you wanted," Crowley was at the opposite end of the hall now. Sam flipped around and charged again. Crowley just pulled the same trick again.

"Come on Moose, we can play this game all night, or I can help you both to adjust to the situation, what'll it be?" Crowley offered up his hands to them in negotiation. Sam was nearly ready to charge again when Dean held him back.

"Dean, what the hell!" Sam shouted.

"Sam, he can help us" Dean said defeated.

"Dean, I don't know what went on in your head while you were dead, but this is Crowley, man. We can't trust him, you know that." Sam debated.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "How about I go for a little trip down south for a while, while you two discuss your trust issues, alright?" Crowley glanced at them both one last time and snapped his fingers.


"Dean, nothing good can come of this," Sam said, his hands flat against the kitchen's cold metal table.

"What, you think I don't know that Sammy?" Dean paced. One hand rested against his hip and the other stroked his chin in thought. "I mean, living, now? It doesn't feel right."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, you don't feel "killy" though, do you? Like before-?" Sam asked.

"-Like before I died for the billionth time? No Sam, I don't." Dean sighed and leaned against the table. "But I don't feel like who I used to be either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"Nothin', just… I know I always held this grudge against myself. I used to hate the skin I was wearing, I hated everything about me. Let's face it, I was a wreck, but now, I dunno, Sam, it's like I finally look like the man I used to believe myself to be." Dean stared at his reflection against the brushed metal table. "Feels like I finally have a reason to hate myself as much as I do."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Dean." Sam counselled.

"But that's just it. I've done all lot of messed up stuff, whether it was here, or in purgatory or in hell." Dean smirked, "I mean call me crazy, but I finally feel justified in how I feel, and it feels good Sammy. It feels good."

"Yeah, you're crazy Dean," Sam determined. "So uh, anyway, What about Crowley?"

Dean lifted his head, "I say we give the guy a chance. I mean I admit I hate the sonofabitch, but I need someone to show me the ropes, right? And I mean, we've worked with him once already,-"

"No, you worked with him Dean, not me," Sam butted.

"Well, regardless of who worked with whom," Dean retaliated, "He helped us take down Abaddon and we owe him for that."

"You have no idea how incredibly insane you sound right now." Sam stated plainly. "What about Cas? I mean, I haven't even seen him since yesterday, I just hope he's alright. Maybe we should start searching."

"Cas? Yeah I'm sure he's fine, just getting his can kicked by Metatron up in heaven. Don't you think we would have heard from him by now if he was okay?"

Just then Dean heard a voice from behind. "Dean."

Dean flipped around just in time for Castiel to wrap his arms around him in a hug which was highly unexpected. "Metatron said you were dead."

"Uh, yeah, about that-" Dean started, but then realized that Castiel's arms weren't letting go. "Cas, could you stop hugging me now?"

"I'm waiting for you to hug back, that's how it's done, Dean" Castiel stated, lingering. Dean rolled his eyes and finally put his arms around Castiel.

"Oh? And who told you that?" Dean asked stealing a glance from Sam who was laughing internally.

"Well, Sam did, of course." The two finally let go and looked at each other.

"It's good to see you, Cas," Dean searched his eyes to see if Castiel noticed anything wrong.

"And you." Castiel patted Dean's shoulder. "You have no idea how happy I am to see that you lived."

"Okay, Cas, what happened? Were you able to kill Metatron?" Dean asked but Castiel ignored him.

"Do you smell sulphur?" Castiel asked as he stared around the room and back at Dean. Dean snapped his fingers.

"Hey man, were you able to do it?" Dean asked again.

"Yes, yes, he's locked in heaven though, not dead." Castiel wandered around quizzically. "Something seems… off here… Dean, I saw Metatron's blade. Your blood was on it. I guess he was lying."

Sam started to speak, but Dean interrupted and was given an annoyed look.

"Yeah, it must have been from one of the homeless guys. He couldn't kill me like he thought I guess and wanted to pull one on you," Dean lied.

"Must've. Are you sure everything's alright here?" Castiel asked again, and wasn't given an answer.

"Cas, what about your grace? Are you alright?" Sam asked, concerned.

"No, actually after being in heaven I seem to be burning out faster and faster. But I had to come see if you were alright, Sam, after knowing what Metatron did, or didn't do." Castiel sat down on a stool. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to last without my own grace. If it's even out there… I feel like… like I'm human again."

"We'll help you find it, Cas, don't worry." Sam reassured. "Right Dean?" He stared down his brother.

"Yeah," Dean answered staring back, "It's our number one priority."

Castiel stared back and forth at the boys. "There's something you're not telling me- what are you not telling me?"

"It's nothing Cas," Dean answered strongly.

"Sam?" Castiel stood up and looked to the taller one for support.

Sam sighed. "Cas, it's not good news-"

"Sam I swear to God, if you say another word-"

"Dean, he needs to know!" Sam yelled. "He- Cas is our friend, the one we should trust, not Crowley!" He looked at Cas, "Dean died, Cas."

"Sam! What the hell!" Dean yelled. Castiel looked more confused than ever.

"You lied to me." He looked at Dean.

"Yeah Cas, I lied, okay?!" Dean looked extremely pissed.

"How are you walking around then?" Castiel asked, "How did you come back if you were dead?"

Dean looked to the ground. "It was the mark."

"The mark of Cain?" Castiel inquired.

"Yes, the friggin' mark of Cain, okay? Can we move on now?" Dean said. Castiel looked offended.

"That's not all," Sam said. Dean gave his brother a bitch glare and Sam gave it right back. "Either you tell him or I do, that's it."

Dean threw up his hands into the air. Castiel stared intently. "Dean, please, tell me the truth."

"I had thought that maybe you could have seen it without me having to tell you." Dean said. "The mark, it kinda… brought me back as a…" he looked down again, "a demon."

Castiel stared at him for a moment and disappeared. He reappeared a moment later with the bottle of brandy that usually sat in the library and began guzzling it down. Dean immediately stood in front of him and pulled the bottle away and slammed it down on the table.

"Cas! Cool it! I'm okay! Save the hard drinking for when it's the end of the world, why don't you." Dean returned Castiel's angry glare with his own.

"You were an idiot for getting that mark, Dean, a real idiot! It was a stupid idea!" Castiel approached him, "I am ashamed of you!"

"Yeah, well it wasn't my fault that someone opened up heaven to an insane archangel and made me clean up the mess!" Dean yelled back.

"You didn't clean up anything! You failed, Dean! And you turned yourself into a maggot because of it!" Castiel was red in the face.

"Oh, I'm a maggot, huh? Well guess what Cas, this maggot destroyed Abaddon, which was, might I add, the greatest most single threat to the world next to Metatron and I took care of it! Not you!" Dean pointed away.

"Hey, hey, guys!" Sam interrupted, splitting them up. "C'mon, we're all alive in some form or another. Can't we just be okay with that for now?"

Castiel shook his head at the ground as anger continued to take him over. Dean on the other hand turned around and started out the door.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"To get some friggin' air!" Dean replied. Sam and Castiel could hear him stomp his way through the bunker and finally heard him close the doors behind him.


Outside the sun was beaming down and Dean was leaning against his baby, just thinking. He was still angry from what Castiel said; what he had no right to say. But he knew he couldn't hold it against him forever.

"Not adjusting well I take it," Crowley stated appearing next to Dean on the Impala.

"I'm adjusted, hell I'm freaking spectacular right now," Dean exclaimed, "Cas is the one who's not adjusted."

"Really?" Crowley said, seeming genuinely surprised. "I would've thought he'd be absolutely beaming to see you back from the dead."

"Well whatever's up his ass, I say it's none of my business." Dean said. "What's that?" He asked, looking at what Crowley handed him.

"It's a case," Crowley said, handing Dean a red iPad. "Thought maybe you and the boys could use a little pick-me-up. Maybe you'll remember how to work together again."

" ? …what's a Chesapeake ripper?" Dean asked, squinting.

"Oh I don't know I barely skimmed through it, just seemed like you're kind of thing is all." Crowley answered. "Start in Baltimore, work your way from there."

"What's all this for, Crowley?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"Like I said, I'm helping you adjust," Crowley answered and along with the iPad in Dean's hands, he disappeared.