AN:

Hi! I hope you enjoy reading this. It's pretty much done, so I'll try to post sections regularly.

The beginning starts off pretty easy. Some of the later chapters have torture and body horror, so I'll warn for that again when we get there.

Also, this isn't Destiel, mostly because I'm tired of sex being used as a cure-all for Dean and Cas's relationship, but you can pretend it is.

Please read and review!

It had been two months, three weeks and four days since Dean last spoke to Cas. Not that he was counting. The last time they spoke was on the phone, and Dean still had the record of the call with the date. Anyway, he'd gone longer without speaking to Cas before, and Cas always wound up being OK. Ultimately. Eventually. In the loosest sense of the word "OK."

Dean figured he was off brooding somewhere, trying to fix everything and being damn angsty while doing so. But that was the best case scenario. Cas could be captured by angels or demons. Dead in a ditch somewhere. He was, after all, human now. In a bathtub filled with ice, minus kidneys. Bleeding on the side of the road...

Dean tried not to think about it. Cas was a tenacious son of a bitch.

Dean remembered falling asleep, but now he was fishing on a pier. He knew it was a dream, but it was vivid and beautiful and peaceful, so he just went with it. There was a tug on his reel. He pulled it in.

He didn't recognize what it was at first. It sure as hell wasn't a fish. It was dripping with thick, black sludge that made Dean's stomach churn. He didn't want to touch whatever it was.

So much for the picturesque scene. While Dean was grimacing at his line, trying to figure out how to throw it back into the water, enough of the sludge had dripped onto the ground to reveal what it was covering. A feather. A white feather.

"Cas?" Dean looked up. But there was nothing but still water and rising sun. "Cas?" He stood up, running down the pier, calling for Cas.

He ran into Anna. He barely thought of her in years. Once, when he saw Charlie's hair from behind, he had a tip-of-his-tongue moment-who else had hair like that? The answer came and went without fanfare. They had not exactly ended on the best terms, but seeing her in front of him, he felt like a traitor. He had forgotten her.

"Anna." He choked.

"My brother is in trouble, Dean." All business. Because she'd always been, at her core, an angel.

"Yeah, I got that. What kind of trouble?"

"Be patient."

"Patient? You visit me in a dream, tell me Cas is in trouble, and then tell me to be patient? I haven't heard from him in months! Where is he?"

"Kevin knows."

"Kevin? What? Just tell me."

"Kevin knows."

"What are you talking about? Kevin doesn't know anything about this!"

"Kevin knows."

"Tell me. Just tell me." Dean's voice rose to a beg. Esoteric angel bullshit-who has time for that? The only thing Anna told him is that Cas is in trouble, which Dean could have figured out himself, because Cas was always in trouble.

"Dean. Kevin knows. Dean. Kevin knows. Dean. Dean!"

And then the brightness fell away, and Kevin was shaking Dean's shoulder and saying his name in the darkness of his room.

"Cuh?"

"Someone named Anael sent me a message. I assume you have something to do with it."

"What's going on?" Sam asked groggily. Sam was fine, better than fine, since the trials. He would be pissed about being woken up, but he could handle being awake at three in the morning, especially for something urgent.

"Family meeting."

Kevin and Dean each filled Sam in on their dreams. Dean replaced 'Anna' with 'an angel,' not sure how Sam would respond if he mentioned her. Kevin's came with homework: an urgent message, but not so urgent that he wouldn't have to waste time translating it. Dean cursed under his breath.

"She couldn't just give it to you in English? When can you have it by?"

Kevin glared, warning Dean not to ask that question. Dean understood that spending one's promising youth hunched over dead languages wasn't the best life, and that if Kevin would work hard and have it as soon as he possibly could, so he had the decency to cast his eyes downward in apology.

"I'll put up some coffee," Dean muttered.

He didn't hover. Honestly. He didn't sneak glances at Kevin, trying to figure out how much he had left, didn't try to glean information from Sam all day. When he served Kevin a sandwich, it was because the kid was probably hungry, not because he wanted an excuse to look over Kevin's shoulder. The wunderkind worked diligently all day, not stopping for one break, so it was the least Dean could do. Dean didn't even understand what Kevin was writing, anyway.

"So...I'm done for the day."

"Yeah?" Dean said.

"What's the story? What do we do?"

"Um, I don't know yet."

"What? Then what is all this?"

Dean gestured to the hours of work and scraps of paper on the table.

"Just...backstory," Kevin shot a nervous glance at Sam, then looked away from both brothers. "These two characters at the bottom...they say part one of five. I have to wait for the next parts."

"Backstory. All that for backstory? What, 'a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away, Cas is gone, who knows where,' and we have to wait a fucking week for the exciting conclusion?"

"Dean, calm down," Sam said. Sam looked at him, not mockingly or teasingly, but with genuine concern, like he was about to say something sappy and sentimental like 'He's strong. He'll get through this.' Dean wanted to smack that look off his face. He wanted to pre-emptively strike him for even wanting to say something cheesy and emotional.

"Calm! I'm calm. It's just building suspense for the twist ending. Cas could be in Aruba for all we know, so why the hell shouldn't I be calm?"

"He'll be OK, Dean." It came from Kevin, which was worse. Both Sam and Kevin were looking at Dean so solemnly, pityingly-like they weren't both concerned? Maybe Kevin wasn't as much, but Dean saw the way Sam reacted to news of Cas, practically leaping out of his chair when Kevin indicated he was done with his translations, offering to do anything to speed things along. So why did they put all of this on Dean? And who was Kevin to console Dean that Cas would be OK? He barely even knew Cas. He didn't know how strong Cas was. How much Cas could handle. How the first time Cas met Dean, he made thunder roar and a barn shake, how his voice alone could make glass shatter and ears bleed. So yeah, Dean knew Cas could hold his own in dire situations. But he shouldn't have to do it alone. And he shouldn't have to wait this long.

"So. This part came with instructions." Kevin said. It was the fifth day of translation, the grand finale. He looked haggard. Dean felt bad for working him so hard but he could rest later.

"You know how to get Cas back?" Sam said. Dean silently thanked him for being just as eager as he was and not trying to hide it.

"Part of it. Do you have anything that belongs to Cas?"

"Anything that belongs to Cas?" Nothing belonged to Cas, ever, (a soggy trenchcoat in the bottom of the Impala) so Cas couldn't spare anything for Dean as a keepsake (a photograph, but that was burned and not really Cas's; fake government ID, upside down; a crooked tie). Dean didn't have anything.

"Feathers," Sam said. "He left feathers in the car."

Sammy: worse at hiding his eagerness, but better at keeping his head.

"Yeah. Feathers."

"Perfect. So basically, we have to steep something of Cas's in a potion overnight."

"Potion. Really."

"That's the closest word I could think of," Kevin shrugged.

"So-what's this potion made of?"

"Something of Cas's and a few other ingredients. Nothing major."

"We have everything in the bunker already," Sam added, and Dean realized that Kevin told Sam more about this than he told Dean, which was nothing.

"So, what's the potion do? Where is he?"

"So, basically, the backstory from the first day said the angels trapped Cas inside his own head. And they're...it's not specific...but it sounds like they're…" Kevin mumbled something that sounded like 'torturing him.' Dean looked at Sam, who didn't seem outraged or shocked. So Kevin and Sam were leaving Dean out of even more things, God knows what else.

"You didn't tell me this earlier?"

"Sorry! I didn't think there was any point getting you all worked up when there was nothing we could do to speed things along. Sheesh."

"You wanna be pissed? Fine. But wait until after you get Cas," Sam said.

"Someone has to go inside Cas's head and figure a way to get him out. Again, there aren't a lot of specifics. Probably walking through Cas's memories or something. Should be educational. He's old as balls."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright. So, we're ready to do this."

"Uh...there is no 'we,'" Kevin said. "Only one person can go."

"What? Why?" Sam asked. At least Kevin didn't tell him everything.

"He's weak right now. More than one person in him? It would be too overwhelming. He's barely there right now. That's what the instructions said."

"OK," Dean nodded, resolute. "Send me in."

"Wait. Dean. I could-you know-Cas and I are friends. You don't have to be the one to do this." Sam offered.

"I'm pretty sure he'd rather have Dean inside of him."

"Shut up, smart-ass. But Kevin's right. Cas and I have more of a-" profound bond "-history. It'll be me. Anyway, you'll be more useful setting things up, doing the nerd stuff. Plus, you're still-"

"Recovering from the trials, I know," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

The glass was filled with a thick, steaming liquid. Dean scrunched up his face.

"So I consume the body and blood of Cas, huh?"

"Just the feathers and a bunch of other gross stuff," Kevin said. Sam shot him a look. Obviously, the ingredients were so gross they had to be kept secret.

"Whatever. Bottom's up."

"Wait. Lie down. In case you collapse or something." Sam instructed. Dean gave him a skeptical look, but nothing would make him turn back. He sat on the coach, raised the glass in a toast, and drank it.

Dean knew it was hell even though all he could see was a rush of black and red. He could hear screaming. Piercing, inhuman screams. His screams. Flames licking him. More black and red. Who knew colors could hurt so much? His screams were like icepicks through his ears, shattering his skull, and the only thing he could see-the only thing he could remember-was black and red and flames. And then he didn't feel flames anymore. Instead, he felt every cut, every fracture, every burn, every doubt, every insecurity he ever had. Alistair's voice. His father's. Azazel. Failure. Worthless. Couldn't save Sam. Damn it, Dean!

Dean Winchester is saved.

And then blue. Pure, tranquil blue.