Sam waited crouched there for an hour before it sank in that Crowley wasn't coming, and then he sat there for another hour just in case.

He probably would have kept sitting there except the sound of footsteps in the bunker roused him from his position on the floor.

Slowly Sam moved to his feet, every muscle screamed in protest, his head spun and his stomach felt like that one time Dean had dared him to go on the Gravaton at the fair.

Dean.

Just thinking about it was painful.

It was like when he'd gone to hell all over again.

At least when Dean was in purgatory he'd been blissfully unaware of his brothers fate, mistakenly assuming he was in heaven with everyone else.

But this time.

Well Sam wasn't dumb enough to think a person bearing the mark of the original murderer got to just flit off to heaven. He wasn't dumb enough anymore to think anything would go the way it was supposed to.

"Sam?!"

It was Castiel. The panic in the fast fading angels voice was clear.

Sam tried to move a little faster as he came around the corner into the main room of the bunker.

There he was Castiel, Angel of the Lord, looking for all the world like he'd just watched something shatter apart in front of him.

"Is it true?" the angel asked intensely, "Metatron said Dean was..."

Sam just nodded brokenly.

Cas's face fell and Sam wanted to reach out - hug his brother-in-arms, share their great loss, but the words couldn't find their way passed the lump in his throat, and his arms stayed limply at his sides uselessly.

A firm look slowly moved into the bright blue eyes, "where is he?"

"Cas, you can't fix this, you could barely heal Gadreel."

"I have to try," he responded his voice taking on an edge of hysteria while his hands scrunched his trench coats collar.

"You'll kill yourself, Dean wouldn't want that."

"I'm going to die soon anyways," Cas snarled suddenly, "the stolen grace is burning out, it may as well go to a good use."

Sam was uncertain how to respond so mutely he simply pointed towards Dean's room.

However when they arrived they found nothing but an empty bloodstained bed, and the smell of sulfer thick in the air.

Maybe if Cas's grace hadn't been partially burned out, or maybe if they both hadn't been grieving, they would have noticed a figure standing just behind the door in the shadows.

This figures head was titled to one side, a look of curiosity filling bright green eyes.

Without a second glance Dean Winchester shifted his attention and found himself standing next to Crowley who was leaned against the wall of a hallway, overlooking a nearly endless lineup. At the moment he was poking one of souls in the side of the head with a stick.

"That bored?" Dean questioned.

"You try waiting for you, you've been gone an eternity," the King of Hell snarked, "so tell me squirrel, any remaining flutters of humanity watching moose and pigeon?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I'm back aren't I?"

Crowley frowned for a fraction of a moment than shrugged, "fair enough I suppose," the King paused for a moment, best start soft he supposed, "fancy hunting down the rest of Abaddon's little traitor squad with me then."

A smile inched onto the newly minted demons face, "sign me up."