There were monsters out there that lived on violence and fear. Some monsters were so terrifyingly sinister that facing them was a nightmare in itself. No hunter ever looked forward to encountering monsters like these, but for the time being, Dean had really had enough of dealing with these bitches- er... witches. Same difference.
Today's witch was significantly getting under the skin of the Winchester brothers and the heavenly soldier who accompanied them. Being born and raised in violence was hardly a key player in the reasons behind Greta Mason's exceptionally horrid nature. While nothing she said ever seemed to make a lot of logical sense, her demeanor was clearly defined by her inflated self image and her unquenchable aspiration for power. Of course, one didn't have to back themselves with intelligence and caution when their capabilities were strong enough to give them what they wanted with the help of a mere tantrum. Lack of intelligence could sometimes lead the power hungry to testing their strength on the living. In the case of Greta, the innocent lives she had taken did nothing to help her. In fact, it only hurt her once her bad deeds were looked into by the Winchesters. But in her eyes, they were just more "inferiors" for her to unleash her reckless power on.
Perhaps she wasn't disparate from other stupid humans whom the two brothers had faced. What made her different was her connections. Greta was a Borrower, but her powers didn't come from any everyday demon. No, the source of her power took on a far more malicious route, and one look at her polished red nails could hint that power wasn't the only thing she had received from this demon. Why Abaddon would ever want to supply a witch, especially one who wasn't very bright, with power was a mystery. Perhaps another soul was useful to her. But that didn't matter. What Greta was capable of had proven to truly be a hazard, and she needed to be taken care of immediately before things went out of hand.
Dean stood his ground, watching the cackling woman as she began to confront Castiel. Fortunately, he hadn't been subjected to the witch's brute force just yet. The same couldn't be said for poor, unconscious Sam, who had been telekinetically hurled into a wall, where he hit his head in just the right place to knock him out for a few moments. Greta could've finished him off, but it seemed the angel was more appealing to her. After all, taking down an angel would be the ultimate test; a test she was more than willing to take. Shockingly, it seemed that she had managed to bind Cas in some odd dark spell that Dean had never seen before. She was confining him so she could deliver the final blows without receiving any harm herself. Upon closer observation, it appeared that she had to keep the spell going manually. Any distractions would result in Cas being set free. Thinking fast, Dean, whose gun had been smashed to smithereens by the bitch, charged her with a blade, aiming directly where her heart would be.
Upon hearing his footsteps, however, the witch's eyes darted behind her and Dean was lifted off his feet. He dropped to the ground with a loud thud. He caught a glimpse of the angel doubling over and gathering his wits when his body suddenly stiffened up against his control. She wasn't stopping there. One look on her face was enough to tell that she was not happy. Dean slid across the floor, hitting into the wall behind him. Instead of leaving him there and returning to Cas, however, she quickly approached him. She bent down to pick up the knife that he had dropped and, with a disapproving glance in the man's direction, she allowed the blade to cut along her own palm. She opened her other hand below the wound and allowed her own blood to drip into it.
Dean let out a disgusted groan. "Just curious, do any of you witches, like, not get off on mutilating yourselves and letting your body fluids pour on everything?"
"Shut up you pathetic pretty man!" Greta screeched, beginning to focus on the blood in her hand, which suddenly began to turn into an inky black color, almost like the blood of a Leviathan. "You know, I've really had it with you most of all! You and your stupid sarcastic comments are really getting in the way of things!"
Dean retorted by mumbling something under his breath about quivering in his boots.
Enraged, Greta suddenly clasped her hands together. An ominous black shroud appeared as she quickly recited something in a cryptic language Dean had never heard of before. Before he could react, the witch opened her hands, and a horrifying hex flew straight for him. Dean tried to throw himself out of the way, but it was too late. Everything suddenly went dark. The spell nailed him directly in the head, causing his body to crumple to the floor, seemingly unconscious.
Greta smirked in utter satisfaction as she taunted the elder Winchester brother. However, her heckles were suddenly cut short when a hand, none too gently, whisked her around. The last thing she saw was the furious face of Castiel as he placed two fingers on her forehead before a blinding light illuminated the room. An ear piercing scream escaped the woman's mouth as her eyes were completely burnt out. She felt as if her very soul were being ignited, but soon all she could see was the same void of darkness Dean had been subjected to. The lifeless husk of Greta's body collapsed in a heap on the floor. If anything, such a quick and simple end seemed to be rather fitting for the power thirsty narcissist.
With this obstacle out of the way, Castiel shifted his focus towards his friend's motionless body. She couldn't have... Cas bent down over Dean's body, a truly worried look in his eyes. Dean wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't beating. Cas put the same two fingers that had taken Greta's life to Dean's forehead. Nothing. Dean was gone, and Cas couldn't revive him this time.
"...Hey, what happened?" The sound of Sam's voiced echoed throughout the warehouse. The confused tone quickly morphed into one of horror and distress when the younger of the Winchesters noticed the scene taking place on the other side of the room. "D...DEAN!" Leaping to his feet, Sam scrambled in the direction of the other two. He knelt beside Cas, lifting his brother's limp body into his arms. He shook, and he shook, and he shook, almost as though if he shook Dean hard enough, he'd yank his brother free from the grip of death. Obviously, incessant shaking wasn't going to get him anywhere, and after a while, Castiel enjoined him to knock it off.
"How... How did this happen?" Sam looked to Cas in utter shock. "What is this? What the hell did she do to him?"
What felt like an extensive pause followed Sam's inquiries. The dead silence that resulted whenever one of them wouldn't speak did little to help the specter of horror that both of them were feeling.
"I should've seen this coming..." Castiel finally responded grimly. "He isn't alive, but his soul is still present. It seems to be trapped within his dead corpse, and there isn't any way for it to escape. His spirit will remain in the same place while his body decomposes, and that means an eternal world of insanity awaits him..." His expression grew increasingly somber. "It's as if some sort of paralysis affected his soul when his body underwent rigor mortis. This is bad. Very bad."
"Trapped inside..." Sam began to absorb everything Cas had explained to him. "But... that means he didn't pass on, right?" Sam said, desperately running on anything he could use to evade the feeling of hopelessness. "We could still revive him, can't we? It has to be possible!"
"I have already tried that. I don't think angels can do such a thing, Sam. This is an extremely powerful and complex spell. If anything, it's presumably very difficult to reverse; that is, if it even is reversible in the first place."
"Don't say that!" Sam snapped, presenting Cas with a despairing snarl. "There's a solution to everything, and you know we can't just leave him like this!"
"And, since it is you who we are discussing, I don't suppose that would be an option now, would it be?"
Sam grunted in annoyance. Neither of them even needed to turn around to see who had spontaneously materialized behind them. "Crowley... Now is not the time!"
"Oh, but Moose, indeed it is the time..." The King of Hell nonchalantly sauntered to the spot where Dean lied cold and inert. Crowley bent over, resting a hand over Dean's forehead for a few moments. "Seems like our friend Squirrel over here has bit the dust for real this time. Nothing would make more sense than to give our condolences and provide the good man with a proper burial." He made a face of false pity, reaping his satisfaction from the glowers of apparent hatred that Sam and Cas both presented him with. "But, since we can never have the easy way out, I guess I should inform you with good news: as a matter of fact, there is a way to bring our favorite Squirrel back from his little predicament, but the task is far from easy."
"Dammit, Crowley, would you just tell us what to do already?!" Sam was quickly losing patience. It truly irritated him how laid-back Crowley was during times like this. It wasn't surprising in the least, but it was bothersome nonetheless.
"Goodness, Sam, haven't you heard of being polite?" He scoffed a little before continuing. "As I was saying, the only way to bring Dean back is to find someone of the same species as the one who set the curse who would be able to break it."
"That would be another human..." Castiel interjected. "A witch, to be exact."
"Precisely," Crowley confirmed. "But not just any old witch, this witch has to have a true gift; she must have been gifted at birth with the power of resurgence. A very rare gift."
"Alright..." Sam nodded, thinking everything over a few times in his mind. "So... Where do we find a witch like that?"
"Well, Moose, that brings about some bad news and some good news... well, semi-good news..." Crowley burrowed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "The bad news is that almost every single witch with such a gift is dead and has been dead for a long time. The good news is that it is possible to find an exceptionally powerful one in a chamber deep within the kingdom of Hell. However, someone, I'm talking about you, love," Crowley pointed to Cas, "has to be able to go down to her section of Hell and pull her out. Only angels can do such a thing, but of course, not without this incantation..." Crowley tapped two fingers to Castiel's forehead, adding a bizarre ritual and sequence of words to his memory banks. "Wonderful. Now that you have all you need, I must be going. I've got quite a few things to take care of. Good luck and all that nonsense."
"Wait, but who is this witch we're supposed to fi-" Crowley disappeared before Sam had a chance to finish. He sighed in frustration, prepared to have a quick exchange with Cas when he noticed that the angel seemed to be focused on something.
"Get in the car. Put Dean's body in the backseat," Castiel said flatly with no explanation whatsoever, much to the confusion of Sam.
"Cas, what's going on? What are you planning to-"
"There's no time now, Sam. Go get the car-"
"Cas, could you at least tell me where you want to go?"
Castiel looked down for a few moments before focusing his gaze on Sam. Taking a deep breath, he responded,
"We're going to New Orleans."