Take My Grace, Take My Everything

by xascasfellx

With Castiel missing, and just recently fallen, Dean is torn between going on with the hunter life as usual or stopping everything completely to find the only other person besides Sam who he thought would never leave him. All while something in the shadows hunts him in return.

Title: Take My Grace, Take My Everything

Author: xascasfellx

Rating: M

Pairing: Deas/Castiel

Spoilers: Season 7 (Mosly AR)

Word Count: 12,374

Warning: Mention of torture and Alcoholism

...

When Dean picked up the note to begin reading it his body instantly became numb head to toe. His eyes franticly traced the paper, growing wider with each passing word. When he finally placed the piece of paper back where he had found it Dean couldn't move, hell, he could barely breathe.

He must have been standing there for a while, staring at nothing in particular, since Sam walked back into the hotel room holding their dinner in his hands. The thought of food made Dean physically sick to where he had to force the bile back down earning a weird look from his brother, but said nothing and began to eat his salad. Sometimes he would look over at Dean questioningly.

"What's up with you?" He finally asked pushing his half eaten food away from him. "You should be happy, I didn't forget the pie this time." He laughed, pushing, what seemed to be, cherry pie his way. Deans stomach began to roll again at the sight. All Dean could manage was a small nod towards the note still sitting on the table in front of them. Sam understood and reached for it, eyes scanning the sloppy handwriting, emotions neutral, almost unreadable. "Why would he do this?" He asked when he had finished the note, replacing it back onto the table. Dean looked away from the words. Sam didn't seem shocked or upset, maybe a little confused but that was about it. It made Dean angry. He wanted to start screaming. He wanted to start throwing punches, but he restrained himself. This wasn't Sam's fault. As much as Dean would love to start throwing blame he had to step up and be a man. This was all on him. He knew it. What else could it be? Why else would Cas leave them if it weren't for something he had done?

"I guess he felt it was time for him to move on." Dean said almost too loud, too quickly in response; it didn't go unnoticed. Sam raised an eyebrow up at his brother as Dean poured himself a glass of Jim Beam. The whiskey did nothing but burn a hole in his stomach.

"Dude, it's not even two yet."

"Shut up Sammy. Man's got to let loose once in a while." He grinned, obviously fake, but Sam didn't comment on it

"All right. Whatever you say. "He watched in silence as Dean took another gulp from his glass, grimacing at the flavor. "So what are we going to do about him?" Even though he knew what his brother would say next Dean was still caught off guard.

"What do you mean?" He asked dumbly, taking another swing of the bitter poison.

"Dean," Sam started, pulling the whiskey bottle farther away from Dean's reach. His eyes narrowed at the man sitting before him. "What are we going to do about Cas? Should we go after him? It's only been two months Dean…" Before Sam could say anything else Dean was already shaking his head.

"No Sam. The man left. He obviously wanted to leave. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself." Dean downed the last of his drink, instantly wanting more.

"So that's it? We're going to sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" Sam was standing now, facing Dean with another one of his priceless bitch faces.

"Not quit. Bobby called earlier. Says he thinks he has a case for us not too far from here. Said we'd check it out." He was moving towards his bed now, throwing what little clothes were scattered around into his duffle.

"Dean, you seriously don't want to go after Cas? For all we know he could be dead, or possessed one." Dean turned on his heel to face his brother head on, face as serious as a heart attack.

"No Sam. Damn it. No. I told you. The man obviously doesn't want to be followed. If he wants to contact us, well Sam, he has our numbers. Let him call. If not, well then he doesn't, but I'm not going to wait by the phone getting all emotional over it. It's a goose chase Sam, I'm not going down that road again. I learned my lesson the first time."

"This is Cas we're talking about Dean, not Dad…you said yourself…"

"Ya well he left us Sammy. Even if it isn't dad he left us too. I'm not going after him. That's final. Now do you want this case or not?" Dean was done talking about it. He had made up his mind and the hell if he was changing it. Sam said nothing. His mouth was hanging slightly open as he watched Dean. After a few minutes Sam sighed as he made his way over to his bed, throwing some of his clothes into his bag.

"Sure. What does Bobby have?"

….

Two hours down the highway takes the brothers to a small town; Akron, Ohio. From the information Bobby had given them they suspected they were dealing with a Siren. Over the last three weeks five men and two women had been convicted with murdering someone they were close to. Eye witnesses had said they saw all seven victims leaving a local bar with either a woman or a man, all of them fitting different descriptions. The next day after the killings the victims turned themselves in, stating they knew what they were doing. No one has been able identify anyone the victims were with the night they killed.

Dean hated Sirens. He hated them so much he would kill them off one by one, probably enjoying it more than he should. Their last run in with one of the bastards had left him and Sam on bad terms, leaving every damn Siren a special place on Dean's kill list. With the memory of both of their harsh words fresh in his mind Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter than he should have; earning him white knuckles and a questioning sideway glance from Sam.

"Hate Sirens." He mumbled trying to break the tension. They pulled into the hospital's parking lot, both climbing out at the same time. Sam laughed without any humor as he thought about the Siren a few years back.

"Yah, me too." Neither one spoke again until they were back in the Impala, a fresh vile of blood poisoned by a Siren, stored safely in Sam's pocket.

"You wanna go in or should I?" Sam asked watching the passing buildings.

"Settle it like men." Dean grinned holding out his hand. Two games later; which he lost both rounds of, and Sam was leaning back with a smug look on his face. "Seriously Dean? Always with scissors." He grumbled something inaudible as he parked the car next to the bar all victims visited before going insane. "Don't do anything stupid." Sam warned as Dean made his way towards the noise and the crowd of 'The Pit.'

Behind the bar a sexy blonde was mixing something to his right while a smocking red head was chatting politely with a balding weirdo to his left. Either one was capable of being his Siren. Sitting somewhere between both girls he waited until the blonde made her way over towards Dean. Damn straight she could be the Siren. Everything about her was perfect. Nice rack. Beautiful green eyes. Big lips. Everything he could want and more.

"What can I get you sweetie?" She asked leaning forward so she didn't have to scream over the noise. He smiled kindly at her. If he wasn't on a case, he sure as hell would be taking her back to the hotel right fucking now. She looked like she could do some serious damage in bed.

"Anything on draft is fine babe." He answered with his best charming smile. It seemed to work. Her cheeks flushed as red as the lipstick she was wearing before she turned around to fill his order. Damn he was going to have a hard time concentrating on the job. His eyes flashed towards the red head who seemed to be annoyed with baldy now. She was beautiful too, don't get him wrong, but she wasn't what he would go for anymore, but he kept her in the back of his mind for now. The blonde quickly placed his beer in front of him before moving to another customer. He couldn't help but notice she had a nice ass too.

Dean finished half his beer before a guy sat solemnly beside him, ordering the same thing Dean had. He didn't pay the man any attention, only focusing on the curve of the blondes ass when she bent over to grab another glass.

The poor guy beside him pretty much drowned himself in his first beer, quickly drinking most of the second one once it was in front of him. Dean still hadn't even finished his first.

"Rough night?" Dean asked nodding towards the almost empty mug before him. The man snorted softly to himself before answering.

"Fuck ya. You try getting fired from your job of six years just to come home to your wife fucking your brother and tell me you wouldn't try to drink yourself into a coma."

"Shit man. That's harsh." Dean signaled for two more beers, pushing one closer to the man beside him when they arrived.

"Thanks. I'm Alex by the way." He said softly, picking up the beer.

"Dean." He answered back. A tight feeling dropped low in his stomach when he saw the man's eyes.

One word. One image flashed in his mind.

Cas.

The pain he felt then must have slipped onto his face somehow because Alex angled himself towards Dean, looking at him generally worried.

"You all right man?" Dean laughed, taking a big pull from his beer. He thought to himself that it wasn't strong enough and instantly craved whiskey.

"Yah, hard day too I guess." The man snorted again, raising his mug to his lips.

"I'll drink to that." They both stayed silent for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. When they finished their beer Alex ordered them two more, telling himself that that was his last one.

After his sixth beer Dean could feel the alcohol start to get to him. His head swam with images of the last few years, mostly Sam, but along the way there were flashes of Castiel amongst them. He wasn't going to be a girl about it and decided to push the images away completely.

Alex was totally fucking smashed after, what Dean thought, since he had lost count, his eighth beer. He stood and swayed a bit before slamming down his payment on the counter.

"I guess I'm going back to my shit of a home." He mumbled gravely. Maybe it was the beer, but Dean could have sworn his voice dropped to the same low octave Cas's always was.

"Yah, I should probably head back too." He paid before both men headed out into the snow chilled night. Dean hugged his jacket tighter around him as his eyes searched the parking lot for any signs of the Impala. "Shit." He fumbled with his phone as Alex called himself a cab. There was a text from Sam saying he was in the alley just behind them. He had completely forgotten about the case. Sam was going to chew his ass out for it.

"Thanks for the beers man." Alex mumbled, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder to steady him.

"'Sno problem man. 'Sgood luck with your wife." Dean slurred, feeling more drunk than he had moment earlier.

"Ah, ya the bitch will get what's coming to her." Alex said sounding less drunk and closer than before. Dean stumbled back feeling light headed as he watched the man smile at him. "Come on Dean. You must have known something wasn't right about your last two beers." Shit. Not again. This couldn't happen again. "I mean, a man who drinks as much as you do couldn't possibly get drunk that easily." By now he was cornered in the alley where, damn it, Sam was supposed to be hiding. Dean felt his knees give out, sending him forward into the Sirens strong grip. "Shh, it's okay Dean. I'm here. I've got you. Don't worry baby, I'm all you're ever going to need. You don't need Sam, or Castiel. I'm here." Alex pressed his lips to Dean's ear but he was too weak to push him off. "Dean, you know what you need to do." His voice was the exact same as Castiel's. There was no mistaking. This was Cas. This was his Cas.

"Kill them." He whispered, pressing himself closer to his angel.

"Yes, baby, yes. For me. I'm all you need Dean. I am all you will ever need. Kill your brother. Kill that selfish angel who left you. Baby, you know I would never leave you." He was right. He would never leave Dean. He held on tighter to the man with Castiel's voice, to his angel. "I'm always going to be here for you Dean. You know that. I lov—" A loud screamed pierced through Dean's ears as the Siren fell back against the wall. Sam, caught him before Dean could fall; holding him close to his chest. Damn it. Sammy had been here the whole time.

Dean's head cleared instantly as the thing fell to the floor dead. Both men stared at it for a while before saying anything.

"Nice timing Sammy." He laughed slapping his brother on the back.

"You okay?" He asked looking down at Dean. No. He was not. He was in no way okay. For a second, just for a spilt second Dean had been happy in the Siren's arms. He thought he had Cas back. He thought Castiel was holding him. For a second life seemed to slip away. But it was just a Siren. It wasn't Cas. He was back feeling dirty, used, and alone. No. Dean Winchester was anything but okay.

"Hell ya, why wouldn't I be?" He didn't want an answer. He couldn't take it even if he had. Sam seemed to understand that and didn't bring it up again.

They dragged the corpse to the Impala so they could head to the cemetery. Sam watched the body go up in flames as usual, but Dean stayed back with his baby. It's been a full day since they've seen Cas. Even though they used to go weeks, months even, without hearing from him Dean was still worried. Castiel was human now. He wasn't as strong as he used to be. He couldn't heal himself anymore. He was vulnerable out there. Sam was right. For all he knew Cas was either dead or possessed. Still, even as Sam asked one more time if Dean was sure he didn't want to go after the former angel, Dean shook his head and turned up the radio with a lump in his throat and the taste of bile in his mouth.

….

Three months later

The whiskey burned its way down Dean's throat; not settling the need one bit. Naturally he took another swing from the bottle, wincing at the flavor. He missed the old stuff, not this cheap crap. It'd be nice if they could splurge and buy a decent bottle of Jim or Jack, but no. They were stuck with Makers Mark. The shit was so nasty it should be illegal. He made a mental note to go to a bar sometime soon to see if he could pocket a few extra dollars to get what he needed.

The hotel door opened with a bang making Dean jump and spill what was left of the drink. Silently he cursed his brother. Sam eyed the empty bottle on the table in awe.

"Dude, we haven't even had that bottle for two hours." He placed their lunch on the table, throwing the empty whiskey bottle away.

"Lighten up Sammy. What did you find out?" Dean looked through the bag, instantly pushing it away. The smell of the burger was making his alcohol come back up. He wondered how long it had been since he last ate something. The thought was pushed back when Sam cleared his throat to start work.

"It's a nest. Probably four or five tops." They'd been in Williamsburg for a few day's now investigating the disappearance of ten persons, all showing up sooner or later dead, all throats ripped out. Two of the missing girls, Calley Walkers and Jane Ellens, still hadn't shown up, and were the first of the ten to be filled as missing. Call it a hunch, but it seemed the nest was recruiting new members.

"Alright. Any idea where they are?" Dean moved to the bed to examine his blade. It had been months since they had an actual run in with a vamp. It would feel good to get back at slicing away at some fangs head.

"Yes actually, get this, an abandoned mansion up on Rodgers Hill." Sam lifted an eyebrow at his brother in interest.

"Wait, isn't that the same house that's supposedly a hot spot for paranormal activity?" He asked as he checked their salt levels. If they were going to the Rodgers Mansion they were going to need a piss ton of salt; they were running low.

"Yup. There's a ton of lore on it. Said to be one of the most haunted places on this side of the country. It's centuries old, at least. Place dates back past the civil war, but there is no record after that. Said that those who were injured from the war and couldn't go back home, would stay there, some didn't make it out."

"War ghosts. Nice. Should be a fun night. So why would the fangs nest up there? A target's a target, the spirits won't go easy on them just because they are monsters too."

"I don't know. Maybe an old memory? We don't know how old some of these vamps are, maybe they lived there at one point. But Dean, a nest full of vampires and, hell, who knows how many ghosts in one night. That's stupid even for us."

"So? We can't let them go. They've killed enough people in this town already, Sam."

"It's just that, you don't seem to be handling Cas leaving well, and I don't want you doing anything stupid." Dean turned to face his brother, mouth slightly ajar.

"What the hell does Cas leaving have to do with this?"

"A lot actually. You've changed. You don't eat. You barely sleep. And Dean, you're drinking yourself to death."

"Damn it Sam. I've told you I'm fine. How many times do I have to tell you I don't care that he left?" He desperately craved more whiskey even if it was the shitty crap he had earlier.

"Dean, I can see it in your eyes! I'm not saying you're trying to kill yourself or anything, I'm just saying, it's okay if you miss him. Hell, I miss him too Dean! Stop telling yourself you're fine. You're anything but fine. How many times have you almost gotten yourself killed on the job in the last three months? Huh? It's okay to be upset Dean—Dean where—Dean!" He ignored his brothers calls. He made his way out of the hotel room towards his baby. Dean needed to put as many miles as he could between him and this conversation.

The day was cloudy, signaling one hell of a storm, but still, Dean drove down the highway with the windows down and the radio blaring Rock You like a Hurricane. The hum of the beat calmed him down mildly but he couldn't shake what Sam had said to him. Damn kid always acting like he knew everything about Dean. Shit, he didn't know anything. Dean wasn't trying to get himself killed because someone left him. Everyone always left sooner or later; he was used to it. Just because it was Cas this time didn't mean anything. It was no different than any other time. Sam didn't know shit.

My body is burning. It starts to shout. Desire is coming. It breaks out loud.

The isolation of the drive was nice. Maybe that's what Dean needed. Maybe he and Sam should go their own ways for a while, just so they could calm down. For a while now they have been at each other's throats almost every chance they got.

No.

He couldn't do that to Sam. Not after everything they've been through. He was his brother. So they couldn't get along to save their life at the moment. They always came through for each other and hell if he was going to give up on his brother now.

The wolf is hungry. He runs the show. He's licking his lips. He's ready to win. On the hunt tonight for love at first sting.

Dean slammed his fist against the wheel. This whole situation was fucked. He knew his brother was right. Hell, the whole damn planet knew Sammy was right. He missed Cas so much. Fuck it, he missed him. Either way the bastard made his mind up and left them without a goodbye; just a goddamn note saying; Dean, Sam, I'm sorry but I left. Don't worry about me I should be fine. Just continue hunting like normal and maybe in the future we can run into each other. Thank you for helping me adjust to being human, but it's time to go. –Cas—Of course he didn't tell Sam, but he had read over the letter countless times before throwing it away and drinking himself into a coma that night.

After everything they had been through together; Cas falling, stopping the devil, Cas becoming an angel again, leviathans, Cas getting his grace ripped out of him just to have him fall again, and he still felt like he didn't belong. After everything the bastard still left them. Yes he missed Cas. Yes he wanted nothing more than to go after him in case the idiot got himself killed, but he wouldn't. Castiel made his choice, now Dean was making his. If it killed him, he wouldn't go after the former angel—hell, it just fucking might.

The Impala made a fast right turn; carrying herself up the hill towards the Rodger's mansion. Dean could use a good hunt right now.

….

The mansion was old. It was covered entirely in ivy, moss, and branches. From the outside there were four distinctive quarters, each connected by a long hallway, each one equally huge. It was defiantly a place big enough to hide a nest of vamps; ghost or not, the thought alone scared him slightly. It gave him chills, but he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face.

Dean hid the Impala behind an old willow. The main entrance to the house was in full view of every window—a sure death sentence if he entered through it.

With the shot gun held tight in his waist band and the blade close to his side, Dean slide himself against the cool stone, making his way towards one of the lower level windows; one of the only that wasn't boarded up with planks.

He grabbed onto the ledge, placing his flashlight and knife on the edge to give him a better chance to pull himself up and through the dust covered curtains. He was fucking lucky the windows weren't locked either. In the hurry to get out of the hotel Dean didn't bring his lock pick, let alone anything else he might need tonight. He would just have to make do with what was left in the trunk, which wasn't much. No dead man's blood, no extra salt, no extra shells, nothing. They really needed more supplies.

Around him furniture lay covered in rags covered in dirt, unused for years. Now that he got a better look, everything, floor to ceiling, was covered in dust. Dean made a silent prayer that he didn't sneeze and give himself away. A quick scan with the EMF shows the place has no ghost activity around him, yet. He placed it back in his pocket, making sure it's switched off, before rounding the corner into a hallway. The whole scene looks like something out of Scooby-Doo. He half expected the painting on the walls to come to life any second.

Again he rounded a corner, expecting the same pile of nothing he had been getting so far, but instead came face to face with the living area of the bastards. The lights were on easily showing the empty bags of blood that were scattered on the floor, along with ashtray's, needles, and empty liquor bottles. So far there hadn't been a fang in sight, but he knew they were there. The smell of blood and smoke were thick in the air.

The floor boards creaked under his weight as he rounded, yet, another corner into another, longer, hallway. On both sides of him the doors were boarded up with planks with the exception of the one door, slightly ajar, at the end of the room. Typical. They probably already knew he was here; a clear invitation to dinner. Still, Dean made his way down the hallway towards the door.

Another floor board squeaked behind him right before a pair of hands found his back, sending him forward into one of the boarded up doors. The blade was knocked out of his hands; his head clouded with black spots. A girl who looked exactly like Jane Ellens came into his line of sight, when his vision became clear again. Before Dean could say something that would potentially get him into deeper shit then he already was in something pounded against his skull, knocking him out cold. The last thing he saw before he passed out completely was a perfect, familiar pair of blue eyes.

….

The conversation in the room was muffled. A few words hung in the air; blood, hunter, kill, same old same old. They were probably deciding whether to kill him or change him. It wasn't like he hadn't been here before. Pretty original.

Dean changed his attention to his head. Whatever he was hit with left him unable to open his eyes more than a crack. The pain was crippling. For a spilt second he thought they had already turned him. The thought was shaken away because sounds weren't intensified, and when he finally managed to open his eyes the lights weren't blinding. Most of all he wasn't plagued by hunger. The memory of when he was turned before still haunted him. That hunger. Never had Dean felt anything like that before. No. He defiantly wasn't a blood sucker.

Around him, five fangs watched him come too, including the same one who had attacked him earlier—how long has he been out?—some sitting, some standing, but all whispering something about him. No one talked to him. Other than a few glances and the sound of his name no one gave him a second look.

"So you gonna drink me yet?" Dean asked to the closest one. She looked young, probably just around eighteen. She also looked new; skittish, wild eyed, unable to keep her attention on one thing for too long, which probably didn't link her to what was happening in the town, but she had defiantly fed already; that much he could tell. She had that blood crazy hunger look in her eyes whenever she looked over at him. She was holding back the urge to drink him dry, which left him with a question, why hadn't they already? Maybe they were planning on turning him again. Great, just what he needed.

"What's the hold up? If you're going to kill me get it over with." He said to no one in particular. Still no one spoke. Dean huffed and leaned back onto the chair. His hands were being held tight behind him with rope that was burning into his flesh. Whenever he moved an inch too much he had to bite the inside of his lip to dull the pain. Another quick scan around the room showed that his weapons must have been confiscated. He mumbled under his breath again trying to come up with a plan. There was no way he could fight off five vamps without his blade. Also it didn't help that his head was swimming. It probably wasn't a good idea to drink all that whiskey before the hunt. Details.

Sam. Where was Sam? He had left in such a hurry earlier that Sam would have to eventually come looking for him. He would know his brother would have gone ahead without him and come here wouldn't he? But Sam wasn't stupid. He knew Dean would want his space. He wouldn't come looking for him unless Dean had been gone for too long. So odd are, he's fucked.

The whispering in the room grew silent, spiking Dean's interest. Everyone was looking at the main entrance to the house where a short, blood covered girl stood, glaring at him. Within seconds the room was cleared leaving him alone with the mysterious woman. The chick seemed to be studying him just as much as Dean was studying her. The vamp was very small, probably wouldn't even come up to his chest. Her hair was short and blonde, matted with old blood and leaves. But he stopped looking when he saw her eyes. They were the blue eyes he had seen right before he passed out. What was with monsters that reminded him of Cas?

"I hope they didn't hurt you too bad, Dean?" She asked stepping closer to his chair.

"I'll live. You seem to have me at a disadvantage sweetheart, you seem to know me, but I don't think I've had the pleasure to return the favor." He smiled charmingly at her, only getting an eye roll in return.

"Norah. I'm the leader of the family you've been hunting for a few days. Can't say I like the threat you pose on my siblings Dean."

"Is that so? And here I thought you guys were a bunch of selfish bastards who didn't care about anyone but yourself, I guess I misjudged you." Norah was cupping his face in one of her hands in a second; her face as hard as stone.

"A mouth like that's going to get you in trouble real soon, sweetheart." She spat back at him. Norah moved away from him, dialing someone on her phone. Dean saw her eye him before talking quietly to the other end. Mostly it was one sided, not spiking Dean's interest much. He looked around, still trying to find a way out. When she hung up, Norah made her way back towards Dean in two fluid motions.

"Who was on the phone?" Dean asked, looking past her towards the door. He could probably take her without his blade, but the others were more likely than not, stationed just outside of the room. He'd be dead before he got one good punch in.

"You'll know soon enough, love." Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard a bit of an English accent catch in her words. "You really have a lot of enemies you know that?"

"Really? Hm, and I thought I was pretty damn lovable." He mumbled, pulling against the rope. They were coming lose now, but not by much. If he could just stall for a few minutes longer. "So if you're not going to eat me, what do you plan to do with me?" His hands began to slip further from the rope, almost there, almost.

"You've got a hit out for you Dean, I'm gonna collect." His movement stopped cold.

"What the hell does that mean?" He asked.

"You don't know? I guess you'll find out soon enough then. Like I said, you have a lot of enemies. I would hate to be in your shoes darling." Dean snapped his hands back, breaking free from the ropes. He lunged his body forward onto Norah's knocking them both back onto the coffee table. If others heard the commotion no one came in to help, thankfully. Norah pushed Dean back, twisting him around until she was straddling his hips, her small hands clasped tightly around his neck.

"Can't—hurt—package—" He managed to get out while clawing at the bitches face—she wasn't the least bit fazed.

"I'm sure he can deal with a few broken bones." Dean pushed back with his foot, trying to send her off of him, but she didn't budge an inch. His lungs burned. His throat felt as though it would snap in two any second. So this was it. Maybe it would be for the best this time.

In one clean slice, Norah's head fell back, her body coming down on his. Blood soaked him completely before he could push off the corpse. Sammy held out his hand for Dean to take, smiling slightly. Damn it, kid. He knew his brother would always come through for him.

"Nice timing Sammy." Dean grumbled, flicking some of the blood off his face. Sam laughed slightly, pushing Dean's blade and gun towards him.

"Again. That's the hundredth time I've had to come in and save your ass Dean." Dean laughed; a full on belly laugh. The lack of oxygen probably got to his head.

"Come on. Let's get out of here." Sam nodded. They made their way out the front door towards the hidden Impala. As they put the town in their rearview mirror Dean thought about what Norah had said. Hell he knew he had enemies. You couldn't be a hunter and not have someone, somewhere wanting to kill you. That was impossible. But the look in her eyes told a different story. Whoever it was wasn't someone she wanted to be working for. The way her eyes kept looking back at Dean, almost pleading like, when she was on the phone; it was as if she was scared. Other hunters, Angel's, Crowley? The list was miles long on people who wanted Dean's head on a stake.

He looked over at his brother, who had his eyes closed, leaning his head back against the door. He couldn't put Sammy in danger. Whoever wanted him wasn't messing around. The longer he stayed with his brother the more dangerous it could get for him.

Dean could handle it. He could deal with whatever, whoever, this was. It wouldn't be the first time, and hell it wouldn't be the last time either. This was nothing new. He had no choice but to deal with it. If Sam got caught in the crossfire he would never forgive himself. He had to protect Sammy.

First things first, he needed to find out what was hunting him.

….

"Fuck!" He yelled kicking the jug of holy water across the basement. The laughter of the demon they had tied up rand throughout only pissing Dean off more. He could feel his brother's eyes on him as he paced in front of the devils trap but chose to ignore it.

This was their last lead. If they didn't get anything out of her then they were back to square one, a big pile of shit. Every demon they interrogated, no matter what means they took getting to the answer, each told him they would rather die than tell him anything; this was their tenth demon in the past three months.

It's funny how fast things became old.

"Aww, baby's getting all worked up. Look at him Sammy! Isn't it just too cute?" She cooed, changing her eyes back to normal. Dean pushed himself forward to where their faces were inches apart. He searched her face for a while before speaking up.

"How 'bout I sew that pretty little mouth of yours shut, leaving behind a big mouth full of holy water and salt you black eyed skank?" For a split second her mouth curled up into another grin before reading the serious expression on Dean's face. "Know, how 'bout I ask you one more time princess. Who. Is. Calling the shots?" He could feel his body giving into the feeling. He was obviously turning into the person he became whenever he turned to torture. He and Alastair shared that same demeanor. Dean hated the thought that they were so much alike, but those ten years changed him in ways he couldn't think about. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He placed Ruby's holy watered soaked knife closer to the demons neck, leaning in closer to her ear.

"You want to start talking now?" Dean asked after a long moment of silence. Above them Bobby moved around still hunting for a lead they could follow. For a moment that was the only sound in the room.

"Go ahead kill me. You can't even imagine the things he would do to me if I told you!" She looked frightened but not at him. He lowered the knife and moved closer to Sam.

"Who is he?" Sam asked crossing his arms over his chest. They were both running on an hour of sleep a piece.

"Like I'm telling you!" She pulled against the chair hard, not getting very far.

"Fine. Sam exercise her. I'm going to see if Bobby has anything new." Sam nodded, still not moving from his post.

"What? No, you have to kill me. Even being here with you two—you—you don't know the things he will do to me! Kill me you pieces of shit!" She screamed.

As he made his way upstairs the screams of the demon followed him until he reached Bobby's study. Sam followed behind moments later looking worn and more upset than before.

"Girl didn't make it." He whispered. Dean cursed under his breath. Felt like he couldn't save anyone these days.

"Find anything Bobby?" He asked.

"Not since you asked me an hour ago."

They were silent for hours afterward, each working on something independently. Dean carelessly flipped through a book in some language he couldn't read while tipping back another glass of scotch. Wasn't his liquor of choice, but it would have to do for now. The silence was deafening. Books being opened and closed, chairs scooting across the floor, the occasional cough from the dust that stirred around them; it was enough to make someone made. Dean had enough.

"I'm done." He moved across the room to the almost empty bottle of whiskey that Sam probably tried to hide from him. It burned on the way down as usual, calming his nerves slightly. "If the bastard wants me, well here I am. I'm not letting this rule my life." Before anyone said anything Dean tool another sip from his glass. "We have no leads. We aren't going to get any leads unless they want us to. Odds are it's Crowley. If I get desperate enough I'll just summon him. Until then I'm hunting."

"Dean-" Bobby started but he only shook his head. This wasn't important anymore. In the beginning he thought, maybe, there was something, but not anymore. People were still being killed and he needed to get back to work.

"Didn't you say there was a possible Rakshasa over by Wilmot?" Sam asked, changing the subject. He knew he kept his brother around for something.

….

The call came a week later. After heading east and ganking the Rakshasa Sam and Dean were back at Bobby's relaxing for the first time in years. Sam was doing something on the computer, Bobby was passed out on the couch, and Dean was flipping through a magazine he found lying around, nursing another glass of Jack when the phone rang in his pocked nearly giving him a heart attack. The number was unknown; he almost didn't answer it but curiosity killed the cat.

"Hello?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother but Dean just shrugged. The line was silent with the exception of static and grunting. He leaned forward in his chair, holding his glass closer to his side.

"Dean?" Dean's body became ice. His mouth instantly dried. His brain banged against his skull. Dean had to take in a few deep breathes to calm himself down so he didn't say, or do, anything he would regret.

"Cas?" Sam's head spun around to face Dean so fast he probably gave himself whiplash, but Dean ignored it. He held the phone closer to his ear now; making sure he didn't miss anything Cas would say. The only sound on the other end was more static and more sounds of struggle. "Cas where the hell have you been man?" A loud grunt came from the other end—what the hell was going on? "Cas, you okay?" There was no answer. Panic started to rise deep in Dean's stomach. "Cas, answer me." Gunfire sounded in his ear, making Dean's glass fall to the floor in a loud crash; causing Bobby to jump awake. He stood and began to pace around the room, begging Cas to answer him. "Castiel! Cas, man, what's going on?" He ignored both sets of eyes on him. After what seemed like hours Cas finally spoke again. His voice was drained and frantic. He sounded like he was in pain. Dean had to lean against the wall to make sure he stayed up right.

"Dean, I don't have much time. Where are you?"

"At Bobby's. Cas what's going on?" More gunfire rang through the other end. Cas didn't speak for another long time. When he did Dean could feel himself relax if only a little. He was still alive; for now anyway.

"You need to protect yourselves Dean. Crowley—" Static "—Demons—" More static "—Soon—"

"Cas? What about Crowley? I can't hear you man? Where are you?" More gunfire. Dean's heart felt like it was going to explode.

"—Doesn't matter—stay—somewhere safe Dean—please—" With that the line went dead leaving Cas's drained voice still ringing in his ears. He stayed with his head against the wall and the phone up to his ear for a few more minutes, not wanting to have to explain what just happened to the others. Hell, he didn't even know what to make out of what just happened himself, so how was he supposed to explain it? What he did know is Cas was worried about them. Crowley was coming, or something along the lines of that, and Cas wanted them to be prepared. He was still looking out for them, even now. If he wasn't so worked up about whether or not the bastard was alive or dead he would have smiled at the thought. Now wasn't the time. Dean turned around to face Bobby and Sam with a deep breath.

"Salt the windows, doors, everywhere I guess." He muttered.

"Dean, what's going on? Cas called you?" Sam was beside him looking freaked.

"Yah, Cas, he sounded like he was in trouble." The distant gunfire rang through his head again.

"Where is he? If he is in trouble we need to help him."

"I don't know Sammy, he wouldn't say. He just said something about Crowley and demons."

"What they comin' here or something?" Bobby asked coming to stand beside Sam.

"I don't know! He didn't say much. Just salt the damn house." Without saying anything else Dean stormed out of the room to salt the doors in peace.

….

A week went by and nothing happened. No demon attacks. No hellhounds. No Crowley. But most of all, no Cas. Castiel hadn't tried to call them again; either he was dead or just didn't give a shit if they were alright or not. Dean wanted to be mad, but the thought of Cas dead somewhere stopped him.

For two whole days Dean stayed on Sam's computer trying to track down the number Cas had used. It was a dead end. Another goose chase. Finally giving up, Dean pushed the computer away from him and grabbed the bottle of Jack from the shelf, not bothering to use a glass, just downing as much as he could in one quick pull.

It hurt like hell to not know for sure. It hurt like hell to be let down again. Everything just fucking hurt like hell.

"That's it, we can't keep doing this." Sam blurted out from behind his beer bottle.

Dean jumped. He was getting antsy lately.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"This," He waved his arms around the study. "All of this, no offense Bobby, but I can't stay here anymore." Bobby just grumbled something and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing. He hated to admit it, but he too was getting sick of the house. He needed a hunt. He needed something to get his mind off of Cas.

"You're right Sammy. First thing in the morning I say we head out, get ourselves a case." Sam smiled like it was the best goddamned thing he's ever heard, which made Dean smile with him.

That night, Dean drank himself unconscious till he was dreaming of a blue eyed angel in a trench coat.

Hangovers can suck dick. The suns too hot. It's too bright out to see anything. And every bump they hit in the road had Dean pulling over and hurling out everything that's left in his stomach before starting all over again. But the worst part is having to sit beside Sam who is smiling like this is the best fucking thing to ever happen to anyone, ever. Yah, hangovers can suck his dick.

They made their way down 90 towards Salt Lake where a few people had died from heart attacks. There wasn't a lot of information on it yet, but Sam was working on it.

"Four vics in the last month to have supposedly died from heart attacks."

"That's not that out of the ordinary." Dean stated in between bites of his burger. Hangover or not, he wasn't going to pass up the love of his life, even if he did feel like he was going to hurl it back up.

"All female. All mid-twenties. All perfectly healthy. Two were even marathon runners."

"Yah, that's a little weird. So what, spirit? Demon? Any ideas?" He had to finally push away the half eaten burger for fear of it making a reappearance. Yah, hangovers can defiantly suck his dick.

"Guess we go talk to the families and find out."

Spirit. It wasn't rocket science to figure that one out. The girl's rooms were EMF positive and one of the friends had been there at the time. She said she had seen flickering lights and the house instantly became chilly. Poor girl is probably scarred for life now.

Few hours of digging and they were standing in front of Evan William's grave. All four girls had dated the douche, at the same time. A year ago he kicked the bucket by a heart attack. Was back to get revenge for dumping him, most likely. Pathetic. But, a ghost was a ghost.

They watched in silence as his bones burned. Their first case back and it didn't even put up a fight. Not very vengeful. He could use something dangerous. Demon. Dragon. Something better than a dick ghost.

He could really go for a drink right about now.

….

Their second hunt was exactly what Dean wanted and more. The expression 'be careful what you wish for' really fit the situation to a T.

They were in Northfield hunting a demon that possessed a kid and took out two families. There was nothing out of the ordinary until they had him cornered in an old warehouse.

"Nice of you to finally join us Dean Winchester." The little boy moved out from the shadows like a scene from an old school scary movie. "Glad you could make it."

"We?" He heard his brother ask.

"You didn't think I would be stupid enough to take on the Winchester brothers alone did you? Please, does it look like I have a death wish?" In a second they were surrounded by demons possessing the families that were killed earlier, each sporting their very own pair of black eyes.

"Hey look a party." Dean smiled, tucking Ruby's knife to his body.

"You, Dean, are not an easy person to find. Can't take all the credit though, we did have some help-" It's black eyes shined bright against what little light was in the room.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" He asked bighting the inside of his mouth. Its smile only widened.

"Well, we couldn't find you, sure, but we knew a few people who might. Maybe you remember someone by the name of, what was it again, Lisa? Ringing any bells?" Dean's body became cold. His breathing stopped at the name. Sam had to place his hand on Dean's shoulder just to keep him from falling over.

"She doesn't have anything to do with this!" He screamed.

"Please, I think I know that. She said she hadn't heard from you in a few years in fact."

"What did you do to her?" Dean squeezed Ruby's knife harder now till it felt like it was cutting into his skin.

"You shouldn't worry about her. Let's see, then there was Roofus, Krissy, Tamara, should I keep going or do you get the idea? If only you wouldn't have been such a baby about it Dean and come out of hiding sooner, maybe your friends would still be alive. But then again, you only care when it's your brother am I right?"

"Shut your fucking mouth you bas—" Sam's hand pulled him back as Dean sprinted forward, knife at the ready. He looked up into his brothers eyes; there was no mistaken, Sam was warning him to stay back. They were outnumbered. There were more demons then they could take on together, and that number was usually pretty high.

"Better listen to Sammy, Dean. Wouldn't want to do anything that got yourselves into any more trouble. Where was I? That's right, your friends. No one knew anything about where you were, so naturally we stopped in to pay Bobby Singer a visit." Dean's body shook with rage. They hadn't spoken to Bobby in over a week, anything could have happened in that amount of time. "Course, we couldn't get past the iron walls. So back to square one." Thank God he was smart enough to stay in the panic room instead of trying to fight off, lord knows how many demons. Bobby was safe. That was a plus in this situation. "Who would have thought that all we would have to is kill a few families to get you out in the open. If I'd known that I would have done it in the beginning. Well, that's a lie. I did enjoy watching your friends scream and beg for their lives. Been the highlight of my week. Until now anyway. Here you are, Dean Winchester, in the flesh. I think I'm going to enjoy this."

It happened so fast neither one of them saw it coming. Two demons had Sam pinned down on the ground while three more came behind Dean, grabbing ahold of him. Ruby's knife fell somewhere to the ground, forgotten and useless. Struggling was useless. There was no way in hell they could have taken on that many demons just by themselves. Gunshots, two—three—four—rang through the abandoned warehouse. Dean could feel himself scream Sam's name, but he couldn't hear it. Within an instant everything was black

….

For a moment Sam let himself dwell on the pain. He was lying on the concrete floor with three holes in his shoulder, blood soaking his back, and brotherless. The moment was over. He couldn't give a rats ass if he was about to bleed out where no one would find him, he needed to get to Dean. He needed, just once in his life, to not fail his brother when he needed him. If that meant he bled out while doing it, then it was something worth dying for.

Sam fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to dial the numbers with his shaking hand. All three wounds were pouring blood onto the ground; each one getting worse with his struggled movements.

"Hello?" Bobby finally answered with a yawn.

"Bobby! They took Dean." His voice was low; so low he wondered if Bobby could even hear him. Black spots began to cover his vision. His body became increasingly cold. No. He needed more time. Just a little longer. He needed to save Dean.

"Sam? Who did? Demons?"

"Yes. Outnumbered. Bobby. Need—find—him—" He didn't even have time to say anything else before he was dead to the world.

….

There was a blindfold around his eyes and a gag that tasted like ass around his mouth. Both hands were tied up behind his back as he lay somewhere on the floor. The room around him was in complete silence besides water running to his right.

Sam.

There had been gunfire. As far as Dean could tell there were no bullets in him so something must have happened to Sam. He could be dead, possessed, held captive somewhere, something. He needed to get to his brother. He couldn't fail Sam again. He needed to get out of there.

Dean began to clash around on the floor. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't undo the gag or the blindfold, nor the rope tight around his wrist. Besides earning himself a few bruises nothing happened.

So he prayed.

He prayed to Castiel, even though he knew he wouldn't hear him anymore, to somehow come through for him, just this once. He prayed to Sam to let his brother know he is coming for him. Lastly, he prayed to God. He prayed for a miracle to happen. Something. Anything.

Nothing happened.

With a fierce pain suddenly stabbing him in the side of the head, Dean blacked out yet again.

….

When Sam finally came to he was lying on the couch in Bobby's study. How Bobby had found him, hell how he even understood Sam's slurred babble was beyond him, but somehow, the old hunter came through. He wasn't in the room when Sam found the strength to stand, swaying a bit. The pain was almost gone, hidden behind blood covered bandages.

"Bobby?" Sam called, moving towards the kitchen. He grabbed himself a beer before moving into the living room where Bobby was surrounded by numerous old books.

"Morning princess." He spat, not looking up.

"What happened?" Most of the night before was a blurry mess.

"Some demons took Dean. Took Roofus and a bunch of other hunters too. You were half dead when we tracked your GPS to an old warehouse. Garth was out searching till you got vertical."

"Did you track Dean's phone too?"

"Do you think I'm an idjit? Garth followed it South, they stashed it in the woods somewhere."

"Wait, how long have I been out?"

"Few days. You were in pretty bad shape when we got to you Sam. You're lucky to still be here." Sam slammed his fist into the couch before making his way back into the kitchen. A few days could be the difference between life and death for Dean. They didn't know what they wanted with Dean, where they took him, nothing. He could be dead for all Sam knew.

He couldn't fail his brother. He wouldn't.

….

The pain was worse than when he was in hell. His stomach burned like it did down in the pit. For a second he thought he was dead and ended back down there again. It became so unbearable his body began to shut down and become numb to block out as much pain as it could.

Dean still didn't know who was doing the torturing. From what he could make out it was more than one person. From experience he knew different people had different techniques they liked to use which helped him decide there was, at most, ten different—demons?—doing the carving.

Some were more skilled than other, while most just slashed away without any design. One stood out from the rest. It would come out of nowhere, mixed in between the others, every other—Day? Hour? Week?—before disappearing again. It had more tact, more precision; it was by far the most experienced.

Still no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much he wished he would just die already, Dean didn't cry out. He didn't scream or cry or beg for them to stop. No. He took it whenever it came. When it was over he breathed a sigh of relief whenever he thought he was alone.

100% of the time Dean thought about Sam. He wondered if his brother was going through the same thing. He wondered if he was even still alive. The thought that Sammy was still out there got him through the hours of agony. He took it with a smile on his face.

….

A knock, frantic and loud, very loud, came pouring through the small house, scaring both the hunters. Bobby looked over at Sam as he inched his hand under the desk to grab his gun. Sam did the same and made his way towards the endless pounding. Who he saw on the other side was not who he was expecting.

"Cas? What the hell are you doing here?" The former angel pushed his way inside, looking around with as much panic as his knock had caused.

"Where's Dean?" Sam's face fell.

"Some demons took him Cas. We are trying our best to find him, but we have no clue where they are."

"Of course they took him." He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his mud covered fingers.

"Cas?"

"I told Dean not to leave this house. I told him to stay protected. Look, Sam…I know where Dean is."

….

The first thing Dean noticed when he woke up was that the blindfold was off and the gag was out of his mouth. The second was that he wasn't alone in the small room. Crowley watched from the corner with an amused expression plastered to his face.

"Hello Dean."

"Crowley. Should have known you were behind this." His stomach burned again. It felt as though it was about to come out of his mouth.

"But you didn't. You walked right into my trap."

"What do you want this time?" His voice was low and weak. It took almost all the energy he left in him to keep his eyes open.

"You wouldn't happen to know where a former angel is would you?" He raised his eyebrow at Dean questionably.

"Cas? What does he have to do with this?" His eyes slammed closed with exhaustion before he opened them again to see Crowley pacing back and forth in front of him.

"This has everything to do with him Dean. I suspected you wouldn't. A little birdy told me he left you and moose, also said you weren't taking it very well either." Dean wanted to beat that smirk off his fucking face; no questions asked.

"What do you want with him?"

"Do you have any idea the knowledge that vessel contains?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but that vessel," Dean practically spat the word back at Crowley. "Is already occupied."

"It won't be for much longer. You just wait till he gets here. You'll understand then."

"What makes you think Cas will show up?" His head felt as though it was about to split in two. He knew he wasn't going to stay conscious much longer.

"I guess you must have missed the part of the story where your little angel is in love with you? He's put his own life on the line before to save yours hasn't he?" Before disappearing before Dean's eyes Crowley made a sound of disgust under his breath.

The pain low in his stomach picked up and soon Dean was spitting out mouth full after mouth full of blood. His body couldn't possibly take much more. Half his blood had to be on the floor by now, if not all of it. His body was so cold, but he didn't shake.

Dean prayed. He prayed to Sammy. He prayed to Cas. And he prayed to God. Just this once, he wanted things to go their way. He wanted Sammy alive and healthy. He wanted Cas to make it out of this alive. Most of all, he wanted the pain to end. Dean Winchester wanted to die.

….

He woke up a few hours later to the sound of his own screaming. No one was around him and he wasn't even in that much pain at the moment.

His nightmares had started up again.

It was always the same thing too. No matter how much he tried to shake them away they always came back, more vivid than the last.

He was back in the pit, getting sliced and diced by Alastair. Next came the offer. Dean took it without hesitation. All those souls. Everyone he ever touched down there flashed before him, begging him to stop. Then he started to notice people. At first it was just a few people him and Sam had saved years ago. Then some hunters he knew until he started to see Bobby, John, his mom, Sammy, and Cas. They all asked him why he was doing it. They all begged him to stop. But he didn't. He never did.

That's when he woke up screaming. Every time he closed his eyes that was what he saw. Every damn time.

Even when he woke up they still followed him. Ruby, Alastair, Azazel, Lucifer, John, Cas, Bobby, Sam, everyone they stood before him. Each more lifelike than the last. He tried desperately to push them away, but just like the nightmares they kept coming back.

For the millionth time since he's been stuck here, Dean Winchester prayed.

….

Every day the hallucinations became worse. Most were of Sam and Alastair, sometimes throwing in Cas, but this one was different. It was so life like he could have sworn his fallen angel was standing in front of him. He looked wrecked. His eyes were blown and red; Dean wondered how long it had been since he slept before realizing it wasn't actually him. He was covered in blood and mud, and his hair was sticking up in every way imaginable. But still, his face was soft, concerned; almost, loving.

He didn't push it away. He was getting closer now, Dean knew that. This was the last thing he would let himself have before…

So he talked to it.

"You came back for me." It said something but Dean couldn't hear. "I missed you. Why did you leave me Castiel, why—" His mouth had been dry for days, making it harder to speak. "—Everyone does, but not you—why you Cas—not you…" The hallucination grabbed ahold of his face, shaking him slightly, whispering something to him.

He only smiled. It felt nice having Cas touch him like this. He wished it was really him. He wished Cas would come to him. Dean quickly shook the thought away. Crowley would get to him. He couldn't come save Dean this time.

"—can't be here Cas—trap—" He pushed against the hallucination, but not getting very far. He was so weak.

"Dean." It said. It was nice to hear Cas's voice again. He almost forgot how deep it was.

"—I'm dying aren't I?" He asked it, looking up into those blue, blood shot eyes. They were filling with tears as he looked down at Dean. "—must be—seeing angels." All he could manage was a small, bloody, chuckle. Cas shook him as hard as he dared.

"Dean! Please—wake up—out of here—" Dean still hadn't put two and two together. It only hit him when Cas's lips brushed gently against his ear. "Come back to me." He whispered.

"—really you?" He asked. Cas nodded franticly; a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes Dean! Yes it's really me. We need to get you out of here." Cas tried to pull him up to a standing position but had to stop when Dean screamed out in pain.

"I prayed to you Cas—" He whispered. Castiel's body became increasingly still as Dean's words hung in the air around them.

"We need to get you out of here Dean." He finally said. Dean let himself be pulled up into Cas's arms, as the angel wrapped one around Dean's waist. It was painful. It was so painful but it was worth it to have Cas hold him.

They made their way out of his small room and down the hallway where they met up with Sam and Bobby, both looked him over, eyes unrealistically wide with horror.

"What the hell did they do to him?" Sam asked. Cas didn't say anything, just pushed Dean's body into his brothers arms with care. He missed Cas's warmth already.

"Get him to a hospital Sam. He isn't going to make it much longer." He could feel his brother nod.

"Cas, what are you going to do? Castiel! Cas, don't be stupid!" Dean didn't see Cas turn away from them and walk back down the hallway. He was already unconscious.

….

Dean knew he was in the hospital before he even opened his eyes. There was only one place that could smell that…clean. His stomach churned angrily. His head pounded violently. And with every breath he felt like he was going to vomit. This was the worst he's felt—ever.

Sam was asleep in a chair beside him, snoring loudly. The nurse that was playing around with one of the million tubes coming out of him smiled gently from behind her clipboard.

"Glad to see you're awake. How do you feel Dean?"

"Can't complain sweetheart." He tried his best to sit up but only managed to make his current position even more uncomfortable.

"Whoa, might want to take it easy there tiger. You're still pretty banged up. What do you remember?" Her face went from teasing to serious in a millisecond. Dean thought back to his last memory. Cas was shaking him awake, screaming something Dean couldn't remember.

The pain. He remembered the pain. It wasn't nearly as bad now—morphine—but he still could feel the lacerations burning on his stomach. He will never be able to forget that pain.

"Not much." He told her. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. She only nodded and left the room. Sam cleared his throat beside Dean to get his attention. The man looked almost as wrecked as he remembered Cas was. It looked like he hadn't slept in months. His eyes were so red he resembled a crossroads demon.

"Hey Sammy." Dean mumbled, suddenly dry mouthed. His brothers red eyes became wet with tears as he stared down at the bed.

"We thought we lost you Dean. You—you were in pretty bad shape man." His voice was so low Dean could barely hear him.

"I'll live. What about you Sam, I heard—I heard the gunshots—"

"Yah, I'm fine now. They weren't that bad."

"Bobby, where's Bobby? And Roofus, Lisa, what happened to them?" Sam stayed silent for a while, staring down at the floor. The machine tied up to Dean's heart rate sped up while waiting for his brother to answer.

"Bobby's fine. We found Roofus, he's fine too." There was a but coming. "But, Dean, we couldn't find the others. I'm sorry." He shut his eyes trying to block out the reality. It was his fault he got them killed. All of them; Lisa—probably Ben—Tamara, Krissy, everyone they came in contact with was dead.

"Cas…where's Cas?" He blinked up at his brother. He needed Cas. He couldn't lose him twice. It nearly killed him the first time. He just couldn't do it again.

"Dean, he didn't come back. He saved you and—he went after Crowley—"

But he wasn't listening anymore; it was impossible for him to process anything else. He let the morphine calm him down till he was fast asleep once more.

….

When Dean woke up around midnight Sam was long gone. Across the room a shadow fell against the wall, his back towards Dean. He didn't panic. He didn't yell. He knew. He just knew.

"I'm glad you're okay." He whispered coming to sit beside Dean on the bed.

"Thanks to you Cas. What happened back there man? How—how did you—"

"Get out? Live?" He smiled softly down at the bed, unable to meet Dean's eyes. There were so many damn things he wanted to know. So many fucking questions he wanted to ask. "When we got there we were instantly surrounded by demons. It wasn't that hard to take them all out thanks to Bobby, Sam, and Garth." Garth had been there. Dean didn't even remember seeing him. "But Crowley wasn't there. We heard you screaming from down the hall. I only thought the worst. So they stood guard while I went in to get you. Dean—you—you looked better when you were in hell, let's just say that." He laughed without any humor; eyes haunted. "You kept mumbling things to me. I guess you thought I wasn't really there."

He remembered thinking Cas was just another hallucination; the relief he felt when he realized it was really Cas flooded him.

"I finally managed to get you out of there. When they got you out of there I went back to find Crowley. It was all my fault anyway, so might as well take responsibility." Dean placed his hand over top of Cas's, staring at the man before him.

"Hey, this isn't your fault. We all know how Crowley can be Cas." He shrugged, making Dean's hand fall from his knee.

"You don't understand Dean. Crowley only took you because he knew I wouldn't let him torture you. He knew I would come."

"Cas why does he want you so bad?"

"This vessel—my body—it held an angel once. You can't even comprehend the knowledge I possess, how catastrophic it would be if someone like Crowley got ahold of it."

Dean tried to sit up but the pain was still too much, so he just slumped back against the bed. Cas looked away from him. It was obvious he blamed himself for this.

"Why did you leave? Why did you leave in the first place?" He didn't mean to make his voice sound that hard. Cas heard it anyway.

"I had a lead."

"A lead on what?" Dean asked when he didn't say anything else.

"My Grace." He had to physically shake himself to see if he heard that right. "I thought I had located it."

"And did you?" They both ignored his voice wavering at the end. Cas moved his hand down the collar of his shirt, pulling out a small chain. At the end was a vile filled with a glowing ball of blue energy. "I'm guessing you're glad you got that back." He whispered, whishing his eyes weren't stinging right now.

"I was. I only went looking for it because I thought I wasn't me without it. I hated being human and wanted more than anything to get it back."

"You gonna strap on your wings now and mojo up?" Again they both could hear the bitterness in his voice but chose not to acknowledge it. Cas looked down at the vile with a longing that didn't go unrecognized. He still wanted to be an angel. Before he spoke, Cas squeezed it, taking a deep breathe.

"I think—" He looked up at Dean with an actual smile. No pain behind it at all. It's been a while since he's seen that on Castiel's face. "I think, I'm good. Not to say I won't be later in life, but for once, Dean, I'm happy. I'm truly happy the way I am. Angel or not." Cas removed the chain from his neck, giving it one last squeeze in his hand before stretching out his hand towards Dean. "Here. For safe keepings."

"Cas-no. I can't take that from you. I won't."

"Dean, I want you to have it. Please?" He pushed it into Dean's hand, curling his own around them.

"Why me?" He asked, eyes suddenly wet.

"It's always been you Dean, always."

Without so much a warning Cas filled the space between them, cupping Dean's face in his hands. Their lips met together hesitantly as if to see if this is what Dean would want. Fuck yes. This has been what he's wanted since he got out of hell, but was only realizing it now. He pushed further into Cas, gaining a small moan from him. He let his tongue play at Cas's bottom lip till he opened up greeting Dean with his own; hot and needing. Cas's hands were pulling Dean closer to him by his hips; Dean pulled Cas by his neck, wanting no space between them. It would have been perfect if his morphine was still working. He pushed away with a hiss when one of Cas's hands brushed up against Dean's stomach. His eyes widened in horror.

"Dean, I am so sorry! I forgot—fuck—I'm so—" He was cut off with another kiss; this one a lot more gentle than the last.

"'S ok Cas." They leaned their foreheads together, staring into each other's eyes. "'S all going to be okay." Lips brushed against both of Dean's eyes, trailing down to his jaw, nibbling along the way, till it found their way back on his lips.

"Get some rest." He whispered.

"You'll be here tomorrow right?" Cas only answered with another soft kiss before sneaking out of the room. When Dean finally laid back down, Cas's Grace tucked against his chest, he didn't doubt once that Cas wouldn't run again. Everything was finally working out for them. He let himself relax for the first time in eight months. Before he slipped under, Dean let out a small prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs.