Once more, this one came into being at the gentle or not so gentle prodding of Isis. She and I were discussing the question that Dean asks in this story, and in the end she nudged me to write this story. So thanks go out to her for this.

Summary: There is one question that has been bugging Dean. The next time Castiel drops by for a visit, he demands an answer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. That honour belongs to Kripke and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made with this story, as it was written for entertainment purposes only.

Rated for some language.

This story is set a few days after the events in "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester". Spoilers up to that episode, but no reference to any episodes after that.

Just a Simple Question

Living a life of encountering the supernatural, Dean Winchester had learned to expect the unexpected. But in all honesty, there were some things not even he got used to. His life was already difficult enough – the constant road tripping, no home, barely any friends, a brother with an unknown destiny, a stint in hell that gave him nightmares and didn't let him get any rest, a mission from a god he still wasn't entirely sure he could believe in; all in all Dean thought that was plenty to deal with for one man alone. Was it really too much to ask for to be left alone in his own frigging motel room, for just a few minutes?

Was that really too much to ask for?

Sam had gone to get food at the diner in town a little while ago. He wasn't going to be gone long, but it was maybe half an hour that Dean had on his own, just for himself. Thirty minutes in which he didn't have to keep up any pretences or facades. Thirty minutes in which he could drop his game face and just take a deep breath. Or so he had thought.

Dean had used the time to finish unpacking the car, and had just settled down on the edge of his bed to unlace his boots. When he looked up, Castiel was sitting on the other bed, looking at him. Dean didn't flinch, but it was all he could do to suppress that urge. What he couldn't suppress was the automatic movement of his right hand towards the gun in the waistband of his jeans. That reflex was ingrained so deeply that nothing could ever stop it. Not even the fact that shooting an angel probably was a stupid idea, anyway.

Dean had absolutely no desire for another chat with the angel. Not now. He had plenty of other things on his mind. Just five minutes alone, was that really too much to ask for? Did being an angel stop you from somehow calling ahead? Dean glared at the angel, but Castiel didn't even seem to notice anything amiss. Dean could only shake his head.

"Dude, we really need to work on your manners."

Castiel cocked his head to the side wordlessly, in that annoying way of his, his expression lost somewhere between curiosity and incomprehension. Dean didn't know if the angel really had no clue what he was talking about, but he also didn't particularly care about it right now.

"You ever tried knocking?" He made the appropriate motion with his hand "You know, materializing outside the door and asking for permission to come in first?"

Vaguely, Dean gestured towards the door of the motel room, as if that could somehow make Castiel understand his reasoning. The angel followed Dean's outstretched hand with his eyes, looked at the door for a second and then turned back towards Dean.

"We need to talk. You were alone in your room. I don't see the problem."

"You don't see the problem?" Dean raised his hands, then let them fall on his thighs with a shake of his head. "Where do I even start? It never occurred to you that maybe I wanted to be alone? I could have been doing anything when you came crashing in here."

Another of those uncomprehending angelic stares, and slowly Dean was getting fed up with those. Angel or not, it was about time they set some ground rules.

"It's a concept called privacy. Just because you're an angel doesn't mean you can just come busting in here whenever you like!"

Castiel looked at Dean for a few moments, then gave a small nod.

"If that is your wish. But now I am here."

"Yeah. Speaking of which. Is there a particular reason why you waited for Sam to leave before you showed up?"

"This conversation is for you and me. I needed to speak to you, not to your brother."

Dean didn't know what to respond to that, especially since it was pretty likely that he was going to tell Sam about this little angelic visit, anyway. Sam was going to be back in a little while, and probably Castiel had planned to be long gone by then, but before the angel even got started on what he had come here to say, there were a few things Dean needed to get off his chest.

"You know, it's awfully convenient."

Castiel cocked his head to the side and raised both eyebrows. "What is convenient?"

"This here." Dean gestured around the room. "That you show up here to talk to me, and you know exactly when you'll catch me alone. Tell me, if you could time this visit so well, why does your timing seem to suck about pretty much everything else?"

A frown showed on the angel's face. "I don't understand what you are talking about, Dean."

Dean laughed, but without any mirth. Of course. He should have known.

"What I'm talking about? That little Halloween Special you and your buddy Uriel pulled, that's what I'm talking about. You can time the exact minute you have to arrive to catch me alone, but when it's about saving an entire town you show up in time to smite it, instead of clearing out your busy schedule and get there a frigging day earlier to save it instead? You really want me to believe that?"

"I told you Dean, it was a…"

"A test, yeah. I get it. But let me tell you something. I don't know how things are handled where you come from. But in my book, you don't put an entire town at risk just to test one single person. You just don't. You don't play with lives like that, and if that's God's way of testing his followers, then I don't know if I want anything to do with it."

Castiel sighed and folded his hands in his lap. The gesture reminded Dean strangely of a prayer, and for a second he asked himself if angels prayed, too. And if they did, whether they were sure that their prayers were heard.

Castiel looked at Dean for a long moment, then he shook his head.

"Things are complicated."

Dean shook his head.

"Don't give me that. Ever since you pulled me out of hell, you've been feeding me this…this hazy crap that could mean anything or nothing at all. And I can't take it anymore. I'm fed up. You pulled me out of hell, and you say that God wants me to do something. And I don't like working on somebody else's intel, okay? I need answers, and I need them now."

"I'm not sure I can give you the answers you need, Dean. Yes, Uriel and I didn't arrive to save the town. We came to follow your orders to whatever end."

"Could you have stopped it?"

Castiel looked a bit taken aback at that. "The rising of Samhain?"

Dean nodded, and again Castiel looked pensive for a moment.

"I cannot tell you. It was never the question, because of all the battles around the breaking of the 66 seals, this one wasn't ours."

"What?"

Castiel leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on this thighs. "This is war, Dean. And in war, it is essential that you follow your orders, not that you question them. Behind every army, there is the one who's commanding them. If orders are disobeyed, the battle plan is destroyed. Lilith needs to break the 66 seals, and her army is following their battle plan while we follow ours. And our orders were to follow your lead, and to not interfere. We angels battle Lilith about many of the other seals, but the raising of Samhain was one battle that you were supposed to lead."

The breath caught in his throat and Dean leaned back on the bed, away from Castiel, as he tried to process what the angel had told him. He didn't need Castiel to lecture him on the chain of command. His whole youth had been one big lesson in following the chain of command, and in what the consequences were if you disobeyed your orders. And he had learned one thing: some orders were meant to be disobeyed. Some orders didn't make sense, not in the here and now, and neither in the bigger picture. And sometimes, it took the men on the battlefield to make the right decisions, and not the general in the background who made the battle plan. Decisions and orders could be wrong, and in Dean's book it shouldn't matter whether they came from John Winchester, or from God himself.

And yes, it was as easy as that.

"So that's what it all comes back to? That God is infallible, so every of his orders has to be the right thing? Because all that matters is the bigger picture? I don't buy it, Cas. I don't buy it at all."

"So you're saying that God is fallible?"

"I'm saying that if God is as omniscient as everybody believes, shouldn't he know what is going to happen, and how to stop it? Shouldn't there be no need for this whole war then?" Dean got up from the bed and started pacing, his hands buried in his hair. "I'm saying that blind faith might be a nice thing to get you through a rough day, but that it gets dangerous if it makes you go against your own nature. How do you expect me to wrap my mind around all this? How do you expect me to just accept that there is a God, and He knows what He's doing, if all I ever see is evil, and suffering, and…and angels who aren't doing anything to save, but seem ready to smite at any given opportunity? How am I supposed to believe in the goodness of any of that?"

A sad smile spread on Castiel's face.

"Omniscience doesn't mean knowing everything about everything. It doesn't mean knowing every plan, every one of hell's steps and actions in advance. If it were so, there'd be no war, no waging of forces. There'd be eternal stalemate between Good and Evil, between Heaven and Hell."

"Then what does omniscience mean? What is it worth, if it doesn't help any to defeat Lilith, or Lucifer?"

Castiel got up from the bed in one smooth motion and took a few determined steps towards Dean, coming to a stop well into his personal space.

"Imagine omniscience, Dean. Imagine knowing the outcome of every single decision, of every single step. The millions and billions of possibilities. One decision can alter the life of a few for the better, but turn the life of a few million into darkness and pain and damnation. Or it condemns the few, but saves the masses. There is no easy decision, Dean. There is no one decision, even. One move is followed by another, and another, and another, and another. Decision upon decision, consequences upon consequences, each of them changing what is and what is going to be. And that's without even considering what the other side is going to do. Imagine knowing all that. All the battles, all the outcomes, all the deaths, the lives saved and the sacrifices. No decision, no order or move can save all those who should be saved and punish all those that should be punished. And every decision has new implications, new consequences to be considered and dealt with, new outcomes that appear on the horizon. Omniscience means knowing all that, but it doesn't mean knowing everything. If anything, omniscience means weighing each decision carefully in the knowledge of its consequences."

Dean was silent after that, breathing hard through his nose as he looked into the angel's face right in front of him. Castiel's words felt like a blow to the gut, like a whirlwind that was blowing apart every explanation about what was going on that he had so carefully constructed over the past weeks in order to protect his sanity.

"Is that why it took four months to get me out of hell? Because the decision and its consequences had to be weighed?"

Castiel blinked a few times, taking a step back as if to get a better look at Dean.

"That is what all this is about? You want to know why you had to go to hell, Dean?"

"Oh, I know why I had to go to hell, all right. I get that part. What I don't get is why it took so long to get me out again."

Again, the angel cocked his head to the side, and slowly Dean was asking himself if Castiel thought he was seeing things differently by that movement.

"Considering the way you went to hell, with literally no hope of ever getting out again, I would assume you to question the how, or the why of it. Not the question why it took so long."

Dean shook his head. "Don't try to sidetrack me, Castiel. I might not have questioned it at first because I didn't expect to get out. But for the past weeks, you've been telling me about God, and that He ordered to pull me out of hell because there is something I need to do. If that is the case, if I'm chosen for something, I want to know why it took four months to make that happen. Why didn't God make it happen sooner, before…"

"Before hell broke you?"

That was the real blow to the gut, not Castiel's earlier words. It was the blow that knocked the air out of Dean and made him take a step back, creating physical distance even though he knew that this wasn't about physical distance or proximity at all. It was about what was in his mind, his memories and the torment they brought, and Castiel's words cut into him so badly because he was afraid that he couldn't keep Castiel from seeing. Not like he desperately tried to keep Sam from seeing, day after day and night after night.

"How do you know?"

Dean didn't like how his voice broke on the first word, but the angel didn't show that he had noticed.

"Hell breaks everybody, Dean. I don't know what it's like, and I don't know what happened to you there. But I know this for sure – there is no way to evade it."

"If that is so, then why not pull me out before it happened? The weighing of the decision took too long?"

Castiel shook his head, ignorant of or simply ignoring the sharp tone in Dean's voice, and walked back towards Sam's bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and smoothed down the wrinkled comforter at his sides.

"What if I told you that I don't know the answer to that question?"

"I'd call on the lie. You can't tell me that you don't think for yourself. That you don't question your orders, or doubt them. Not after what you told me just a few days ago. Even if you follow your orders, you question them. You try to understand the reasons behind them."

Castiel considered that statement carefully.

"I don't know why God commanded me to raise you from hell, and why he did it when he did. Like you, I can only guess."

"But your guess would be more educated than mine."

Castiel only shrugged. Dean sat back down on his own bed, a safe distance away from the angel.

"Why? Why me, and why only after four months?"

Castiel looked at his hands for a long moment, twirling his thumbs as he thought, then he looked up so suddenly that Dean nearly flinched.

"There is the weighing of which decision to make. The question of which is the right decision. And then there is the question of when is the right time for that decision."

Dean swallowed dryly. "What does that mean?"

"It's what I tried to explain to you. Every event has its unique consequences. When you went to hell, it had an impact on the people close to you, on your brother, on yourself. And it also had an impact on this war. You going to hell led to different events, different decisions. Decisions you and the people close to you wouldn't have made if you hadn't gone to hell."

Dean shook his head. "So you're trying to tell me that God thought it was necessary? It was necessary that Sam was left to fend for himself for four months, fighting this war on his own, thinking me dead, desperately trying to find a way to bring me back? It was necessary that I spent four months in hell, going through things that were so awful that I don't even want to think about them? For what Castiel? Can you tell me that? Because God thinks the outcome is better if he pulls me out of the pit after four months instead of after a day? Because it gives Heaven a better chance at winning this war?"

Dean got up and started pacing again, unable to sit still. Castiel looked up and traced his movements around the room with an almost sad expression on his face.

"It isn't punishment, Dean."

"Yeah? Because it pretty damn well feels like it if a God who has the power to prevent something this bad from happening doesn't lift a damn finger to do so, and all just for the sake of some crappy master plan!"

"Every decision that is made, every order we are given, is thought through and made in the best interest of all of us."

Dean shook his head. "That's what they're telling you in the official memos? Newsflash Cas, maybe you should try thinking for yourself for a change! How can any of this be in my best interest, or in the best interest of my brother?"

Castiel frowned. "Because you are humans. Because ultimately, it is in your best interest that mankind is protected, if not saved from…"

"I don't give a crap about mankind!" Dean interrupted, yelling now. "I don't give a damn about the big picture, or about any divine plans! Fact is that God could have stopped this from happening to me, and to my brother, and He didn't. And nothing you said so far has given me any idea why!"

Castiel took a deep breath and got up from the bed again, though he kept his distance to Dean.

"You are a different man than you were before you went to hell. Your brother is a different man than he was before you went to hell."

"You don't have to tell me!"

Nobody had to. Dean knew it, felt it with every beat of his heart. He knew all that had changed about himself, the things that he had seen in hell, the things that had been done to him, which had left him a forever changed person. And he saw how Sam had changed. The secrets, the lies, Ruby and the magic tricks she was practicing with him at night, that huge rift those four months had created between him and his brother. Dean knew about all that, felt the pain and anguish that came from it in every waking minute and beyond that. He knew it.

What he didn't know was why God would want that. Why they had to go through all this. Why it always had to be them. Why they were never given a break. He didn't know, and he didn't think he'd ever understand how four months of agony for both Sam and him could turn out to be a good thing. Something God would want to happen to them because He thought it was going to be of advantage for the war.

"Dean, you and your brother have an important role to play in what is to come. That path has been set for you both a long time ago. No matter if you went to hell, if you managed to evade your deal, if you stayed in hell for a day or a month or a year, you and your brother are forever entangled in this war. There is no evading your involvement, one way or another."

"And if we're involved in this anyway, we can as well bear the brunt of it all, is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Castiel shook his head. "I told you Dean, I can only try to explain what I know. If you want an account about God's reasons for his decisions, I'm not the one who can give it to you. But I told you, there is no one ultimate way to save everybody. No one right decision. It's war Dean. And we all have an interest that the right side wins."

Dean laughed hollowly. "There's one thing I know about wars, Castiel. Even if there is a right side, and even if that right side wins, people still die."

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"The wrong people. Innocent people."

"I know that, Dean."

"And what?" Dean raised his hands in question. "It doesn't give you a bad, hollow feeling? The feeling that as an angel, maybe you should have done more to save them?"

"I'm doing what I can, Dean. Believe it or not, there are limits to what an angel can do. To what Heaven can do."

"To what God can do?"

Castiel smiled. "In a way. Limits that are set by the question which outcomes are acceptable and which are not, yes."

Dean suddenly felt tired and without strength. This whole conversation wasn't going anywhere, because Castiel didn't understand, couldn't understand, why Dean had such a hard time believing into the good core of what looked like a string of very bad decisions.

"Just let me make one thing perfectly clear, Cas. Whatever your orders, whatever divine plan you're following, my brother won't end up one of those victims of this war just because we somehow conveniently fit into God's plan of all this. As far as I'm concerned, there's a whole lot of pain that shouldn't be there, and the guilt that's going around for that is pretty divine. I can take a lot, but if people, or worse, deities, start putting my family through agony just because their schedule is geared to a different timetable than everybody else's, I've reached the end of my rope. I won't let that happen, okay? So get that into your angelic head once and for all, and put it into the next memo to heaven. Raising me from hell is something I'm grateful for, but that doesn't mean my brother or I can be used as pawns in anybody's games."

"You're not pawns, and this is no game, Dean. This is a war, not a game."

Dean laughed. "So what, we're soldiers? Same difference. Both are pushed around by someone who stays safely on the sidelines. But not anymore, you get that? Those four months happened, and now Sam and I have to deal with it. And we will, and I won't let anybody interfere in that, do you understand? I protect what's mine."

Castiel cocked his head again, and not for the first time Dean felt the urge to slap the angel.

"You have made your point perfectly clear, yes. But Sam will be back soon, and we still have a few things to discuss."

Dean took a deep breath to stop himself from telling Castiel to stick that conversation where the sun don't shine. The angel probably wasn't going to get it, anyway.

"Whatever."

Castiel nodded. "Good. Now listen, and listen good."

And Dean did listen, but part of his brain was still going through what Castiel had told him earlier. No matter how the angel turned it, in Dean's eyes he and Sam always played the same role in this divine scheme. Soldiers. Pawns. Expendable, and moveable at will. And he had a hard time accepting that this was what it was all about. That this was how Heaven fought the ultimate war against Evil – for the good of mankind, but without the slightest consideration for the single individuals.

But if they didn't care, Dean just had to watch out twice as hard.

Heaven had robbed him of four months, and had loaded both him and Sam with memories, experiences and pain that both of them could have done without. Dean couldn't see the benefit in that, and he didn't know if he ever would. Or would ever want.

But one thing hadn't changed, not since they had been children with no notion of heaven and hell and all the shades of grey in between: they had only each other to rely on. Now more than ever. It sounded so small and insignificant in the face of the epic events Castiel was talking about. But to Dean, it was the one thing that made it worth it to have gone to hell, to have come out, and to keep fighting this war. Even if he no longer knew what he was fighting it for. And who he was fighting it for, aside from Sam.

But he would fight . It was the only thing he knew how to do.

The End

Thanks for reading and as always, please let me know what you think. Thanks a lot.