Title: Whatever It Takes [1/?]
Author: alakewood
Warnings: Major spoilers for Jump the Shark. Like, seriously major. AU. General spoilers for all of Season 4.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1600+
Summary: I got the idea for this from something Sam said at the end of this episode. If things could have been different...
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, however...it didn't quite end that way. My plan had been to finish the current series' that I've got going, alas, 'the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.'

oxoxo

Dean hefted open the lid of the second casket, not knowing what he'd find – a third victim? His breath left him in a rush. "Oh, God," he whispered, stomach rolling. "Oh, God."

Adam.

Dean's mind started making connections, theories, deduced what had happened and what was happening at that very moment to Sam. To his other brother. And, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, that didn't seem nearly as important as Adam.

This couldn't be right, couldn't be real. How could this have happened? John had made certain that Adam was apart from all this, that he was safe, yet...

He had to fix it, had to save Adam. And there was only one way. "Cas! Please..." He turned his face up and prayed, "Just please."

There was a quiet ripple of cloth behind him, a sound that had become so familiar in its ordinariness. Castiel's gaze was casted down, face in shadow. "Dean..." he began in that I've-got-nothing-but-bad-news-for-you voice.

"No," Dean said. "No. We didn't even have a chance to save him, Cas. You gotta give me a chance to save him."

"Maybe he wasn't meant to be saved."

Dean scoffed, feeling the tears burning in his eyes. "How can you say that? How can you- Please, Cas. You want me to have unwavering faith in what you ask of me? I need a miracle. You want me to get through this? I need something to fight for."

"Millions of innocent people aren't enough?"

"They need a face. I'm asking you for one thing."

"You have Sam. Do it for Sam."

"Sam's proved he's more than capable of taking care of himself. I know you can do this – why won't you?"

"It's not as simple as you make it seem. There are serious consequences."

"Screw the consequences! Just take me back so I can fix this."

"No, Dean. I can't. There are no guarantees that anything would change – he would still die. Didn't you learn that you can't change the past when your mother made her deal?"

Dean was silent, leaning against the side of the casket, staring at Adam's pale, blood-spattered face, sightless eyes wide and dull as they stared at the ceiling. Dean couldn't tear his own eyes away for fear he'd glimpse Adam's mutilated stomach and remember his time in Hell.

Castiel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, which was promptly shrugged off. "I can't take you back, but..." the angel sighed, a weary, defeated sound, "I can bring him back."

Dean wasn't sure he'd heard right. Still gripping one of the lift bars, he looked over his shoulder at Castiel. "What?"

"I can resurrect him," he clarified. "But you must understand, there will be consequences."

"Like? He'll be a zombie? He won't have a soul?"

"No – Adam will be just as he was before he died. There will be other repercussions."

"Then I'll handle them. If you can bring him back, do it." He took a step back from the casket, allowing Castiel to move closer. "Please."

"You need to go to Sam. I'll take care of Adam."

"But-"

"Go. He's not faring well. I will take Adam to Bobby's. You will find him there, well."

Dean waited until Castiel's eyes met his, struck with the weight of the sadness in them, before he finally backed away from the casket.

"There's a window." Castiel gestured towards the ceiling where an angel-inlaid stained glass window was covered with leaves above the mausoleum.

oxo

Dean arrived in time to watch the Adam that wasn't Adam crumple to the floor – somehow Castiel's doing, he was sure – and the thing that looked like Adam's mother stilled her blade as she stared at the body with curiosity and confusion. "Hey!" He took a shot at her and rushed to Sam's side, using one of the abandoned knives to cut free the ropes binding his brother's wrists. He moved around the end of the table for Sam's other arm.

"Dean," Sam breathed. "Ghouls."

Which meant... But Dean was grabbed from behind and shoved into a bookcase before he was able to finish that thought. He could hear Sam's blood dripping loudly into the bowls on the floor and it made the adrenaline race through his body even faster. He got his arms under himself and pushed his body off the floor as hard as he could, throwing the ghoul off his back. He scrabbled for his gun, turned on his side, and shot her square in the face. He lie there, panting for a moment, thankful it was over, before he remembered, "Sam."

Sam could barely keep his eyes open, only slivers of hazel and white between the lids as he tracked Dean's movement.

Dean cut the ropes from Sam's other wrist and carefully sat his brother up, taking cloth napkins off the table and wrapping them tightly about Sam's forearms.

"Thank you," Sam whispered.

oxo

Bobby leaned across the dining room table to reach for the books across from him, but the tome he was looking for was not among them. He sighed and pushed his chair back from the table, stretching as he stood, and headed for the bookcase against the far wall. Trailing a finger across worn and cracked leather spines, he muttered to himself trying to remember if the book had been written in Hebrew or Aramaic.

There was a soft swish of cloth behind him, as though a breeze had billowed the curtains open – but the window was closed...

Bobby's hand stilled, shoulders tensing, as he realized that he had no weapons nearby. Slowly, he turned. "You?" he questioned indignantly before his eyes focused on the full scene in front of him – the body on his dining room table.

Castiel glanced up at Bobby, but couldn't look him in the eye. "I had to bring him somewhere safe."

"Who?" His tone of voice unchanging as he stepped forward.

"Adam. Dean and Sam's brother. John's son."

Bobby squinted at the angel from under the bill of his cap. "What?" He moved closer, swallowing thickly when he saw that the boy had been disemboweled. "He's dead; what are you going to do?"

"Turn away your eyes," Castiel instructed.

"What are you going to do?" Bobby repeated.

"Dean asked me to...bring him back."

"And you said yes?"

"Adam should not have died."

"That doesn't mean he should be brought back. It will just cause more problems – look what happened with Sam."

"You would rather Sam had stayed dead?"

"No-"

"That's how Dean feels about Adam – his death was senseless."

"Resurrecting him: what's the price?"

When most would have avoided eye contact is when Castiel's eyes finally met Bobby's. "This is the ultimate display of disobedience. Angels do not possess the ability to choose who is worthy of life, much less undo what has already come to pass. We simply carry out orders, we do not make our own. They will..." Castiel paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "I will be forced to return to Heaven where I will await judgment."

"Will it be worth it?"

"Dean is not fully aware of the outcome of his decision, but he seems to think so. He said he needed something to fight for; he needs this."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it."

"Who will guide him?"

"You have brought him this far. He has faith in you. And, there's Anna. He will still receive the direction he needs. Dean is on the right track, he knows what he must do."

"We're running out of time."

"He will not fail."

"What if-"

"You must have faith in him also."

"I do, I just...He's been through so much already and it's a lot for him to take on."

"But it is his burden to bear." The words were quiet, uttered with a sense of finality. "Please, turn away your eyes."

Bobby left the room, closed the door, and leaned against it with his eyes closed. He wasn't taking any chances after Pamela. After a moment, he felt the hair on his arms and on the back of his neck stand as if the air had suddenly become charged with static electricity. It didn't last long and he was left with skin that felt too sensitive, tingly.

The absolute silence of the house was broken by a deep gasp for breath from the dining room. Bobby paused and remembered the body – Sam and Dean's brother - that had been laid across his table, atop notes and various books. He quietly opened the door to survey the scene, unsure what to expect.

The kid was half on his side, leaning on his left elbow, coughing into the crook of his right arm. His eyes flashed in Bobby's direction when the door opened, then he frantically glanced about the room. "What happened? Where am I? Who are you?" he questioned in a rush, voice hoarse.

"Take it easy, son," Bobby said placatingly. "I'm Bobby Singer, I'm a friend of John's. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Adam eased himself into a sitting position, eyes widening in horror as he glimpsed his blood-stained jeans. "N-no," he stuttered. "I don't remember anything. What happened to me?"

"I'm not-" Bobby was interrupted by the trill of the cellphone in his pocket. He watched Adam for a moment, certain that the kid was in too much shock to run off, and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Bobby? It's Dean."

"The kid's here. What kind of mess have you got yourself into now?"