A/N: This happened during re-re-re ...(lost count)... -rewatching of the episode 02x13 (Houses of the Holy). Also includes my favourite scenes from 04x01 and 05x02. I had an Oh, Hon (Misha meme) moment when watching the following scene. And I thought about the irony of the situation.

It is not a fic (per say), it is a mere collage of four scenes. A two-shot.

I am tired and sleepy and should be in bed, coz I have work in few hours. So, sorry if it's a messy write.

SUMMARY: Sam supposedly has faith. Things you learn about a guy. Dean absolutely refuses to believe in angels. Someone has to keep realistic standards about the world. But then an angel believed in him. And that notion is terrifying.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural!

BELIEF IN NON-BELIEVER

Act One

"Doubt is not the opposite of faith;
it is one element of faith."

- Paul Tillich

Sam refused to give him any quarters. That was unfortunate, since the massage bed was one of the rare things bringing him pleasure these days, as he couldn't go out and get the real deal. Wanted for a bank robbery. Not showing his face in public if the they could avoid it. Stupid.

So, the only thing Dean was forced to focus on right now was the case. Two misinformed nut-jobs; possessed probably. But be it a spirit or a demon, once it kills what it wanted and leaves the host, people usually realize that the blood on their hands is a life-liquid of another person. A person with family, friends, dreams and hopes. They definitely don't go on believing it was the right thing to do.

"But she seriously believes that she was ... touched by an angel?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah," his brother replied. "Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace."

Dean almost laughed at how serious Sam sounded. "Oh yeah, you're right, sounds completely sane." He paused. "What about the dude she stabbed?"

"Uh, Carl Gully. She said she killed him because he was evil."

Vengeful spirit. That could make sense. "Was he?"

"I don't know. I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends. He was a churchgoer."

"Hm. So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean," he huffed at the thought, "she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion. Know what I mean?" Sammy was the educated one. Of course he knew.

"No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don't ya think?"

"Well, little odd yes, supernatural maybe. But angels? I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Dean felt like he was trying to explain that Santa ain't real to a twenty-year-old. "'Cuz there's no such thing, Sam."

And twenty-three year old giant didn't believe him. "Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted."

"Yeah, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they … they ride on silver moonbeams … and they shoot rainbows out of their ass."

"Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?" Sam asked shocked.

Now Dean saw his brother was just messing with him. "That's cute. I'm just saying, man. There's just some legends that you just … you file under 'bullcrap'," he felt like he really ought to explain this to Sammy before his brother learned it the hard way. Hope crushed under the pressure when you most need it really breaks a person. And the Impala the last time it happened to Dean.

But Sam was one stubborn son of a bitch. "And you've got angels on the bullcrap list."

"Yep."

"Why?"

He really hated when his brother didn't get with the program. "Because I've never seen one."

"So what?"

"So I believe in what I can see!"

"Dean! You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about." Damn that lawyer mind, always ready to back up his point with common sense.

He was fed up with it. "Exactly! With our own eyes! That's hard proof, okay?" Sam kept looking at him. Watery eyes as when he told Dean to forgive himself for Dad's death. Pity. "But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No!"

Dean didn't believe. Wouldn't. They couldn't afford to that kind of hope. There were no such thing as angels. Period.

He didn't know how wrong he was.

Doors of the barn slammed open. The power he felt when that screech broke the glass and every electronic in the room seemed enhanced ten times over. The air shimmered with it as sparks flew and wind crashed against the building.

A man in a trench-coat never flinched as Bobby and Dean filled him with shotgun bullets. Whatever it was, its presence alone seemed to break earth's physics. Something much bigger than Dean has ever encountered. Something stronger than the very nature.

He grabbed Ruby's knife, the most powerful tool on his disposal. Ready to send the thing back where it came from.

The man stopped in front of him, calmly and casually as if he didn't just literally raised the roof.

"Who are you?" Dean had to ask. He thought he had seen it all.

Face of a man not much over his age was gentle. It was more disturbing than any sharp-toothed grin or grimace monsters usually pulled. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

Dean didn't know what to think about that. So he went with the usual stone-heart reply, "Yeah, thanks for that." and stabbed the thing in the chest.

And like with the bullets, nothing happened. Except maybe a proud smirk from the thing. As if it knew what Dean was going to do and wouldn't have it any other way.

Dean stood shocked as it pulled the blade out of the place where its heart should have laid and dropped the dagger to the ground. That knife was strong enough to kill demons. Dean looked to Bobby for help, but the man just stared back, as stunned at he was. Then the man swung an iron crowbar at the visitor.

It blocked Bobby's forceful swing with a single arm. Touching him on the forehead with two fingers. The old hunter collapsed in a heap.

It turned back to Dean. Not even winded. "We need to talk, Dean."

He could feel his own eyes almost popping out of their sockets at the events unfolding, and the thing in the trench-coat simply returned the stare. Like it wasn't just shot a round full of bullets, stabbed by the strongest dagger in existence, stopped the iron rod without even knowing it was coming at it. Dean glanced down at Bobby, worried for the hunter's life.

"Alone." The thing explained.

As if Dean even had a choice to refuse.

After making sure that Bobby was breathing, Dean focused on the trench-coat non-human that still lingered around, flipping through the pages of the summoning book.

"Your friend is alive," it said simply.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel," it answered without even looking up.

"Yeah, I figured that much." Dean rephrased the question. "What are you?"

At this, the visitor finally tore his gaze from the pages it studied so interested. "I'm the angel of the Lord."

And Dean's mind wouldn't believe it still. He was still banging his head with what abomination could be resistant to iron, salt rounds, regular rounds and Ruby's dagger.

That was until Castiel called upon thunder and lightning to reveal shadows of wings on the wall behind the human form. And Dean saw it with his own two eyes.