Easily far from my best writing, but it's been a while, and this is my first trip into the Supernatural fandom!

Okay, so this takes place in Season 9, right after Gadreel's betrayal. However, in this AU, he failed to kill Kevin. Also, they saved Mrs. Tran earlier, if only because I love her and wish she had more screen time.

Anywho, enjoy!

For all that Dean loved Casa Erotica and Busty Asian Beauties, nothing beat the real thing. He lifted his head from its buried spot in the neck of a particularly lovely blonde piece, only to be pulled back to her lips by needy, grabbing hands.

He smirked- but then a noise came, one all-too familiar, and he groaned.

"Seriously, Cass?"

The lights flickered and the ringing in his ears was soon overwhelming. He was tempted to bury his face under the covers- or in the girl's breasts- but when he reached for her, his hand came up with nothing but fabric.

"What the-"

"Dean," said that familiar voice. He looked up and into Castiel's eyes. He stood before him so much like the first time they met- strong and steady, chin held high. The lights flickered once again- and Castiel's wings spread in shadow, fluttering on either side of him. Beautiful and radiating with a divine power.

Dean felt again what he felt that first time- a strange feeling, one he struggled to explain. As he rose from the bed- all too aware of his naked state- Castiel spoke again.

"Dean."

But it wasn't his voice.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "Wake up."

He jolted, and groaned. "Damn it, Sam. That was weird as hell."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Nevermind. What's up?"

"Got a case."

Dean closed his eyes, revelling in the sweet embrace of rest for one more second. He wanted to sleep forever- he wasn't entirely sure what path his dream was destined to follow, and as it was one that had been haunting him from basically the moment he met Castiel, he was curious to see the ending.

"Dean!"

"Yeah, coming."

The melee upstairs was strange- especially considering that, for so long, it had just been Sam, Dean and Kevin… and Gadreel, but even thinking about that filled Sam up with an insatiable resentment, so he pushed it aside.

"Kevin, how are you feeling?" he asked, the guilt tinging him as he remembered Gadreel reaching for the prophet, and the kid's screams- thankfully, Dean sliced his hand with an angel blade before anything too bad could happen.

"Like my insides are melted," Kevin said, rolling his eyes. "But other than that, fine."

"Again, Kevin, I'm so sorry-"

"Sam, for the millionth time, it wasn't you-"

"I know, I know. I just-"

The conversation faded with Dean's belated entrance. He stumbled as though he'd already consumed a fifth of vodka. Honestly, Sam wouldn't be surprised if he had. It seemed like Dean was losing control more and more each day. Whenever he'd had enough time to process the whole Gadreel thing, he'd worry about Dean. In the meantime…

"What's the case?" Dean asked, slumping in a chair at the table. "Abaddon? Wild Angels? What?"

"Nothing that big, unfortunately," Sam muttered. He passed the laptop to Dean. "Some suspicious deaths in Wichita. Looks like witchcraft."

"Huh," Dean said, eyebrows raised. "Seems like a pretty powerful witch."

"That's what worries me." Sam stood, and turned towards the balcony, just beyond which he could hear the tell-tale sounds of Linda getting ready for the day. "If Abaddon or Bartholomew get their hands on someone with that much juju, who knows what damage they could do?"

"Check this out," Dean said, pushing the laptop back over to Sam.

His eyes scanned the headline, and he sighed. "This is some tabloid. How do we know if the information is correct?"

"We don't. But check the location and the cause of death."

He read quickly. Sure enough, the information seemed pretty correct. Wichita PD stumbled across victims of a mysterious crime, and cloth bags showing "satanic symbols" were found on the scene. However, the circumstances of this latest one were particularly worrying. The photograph shown displayed a smiling couple- hardly out of college, if Sam had to guess. However, according to the article, their cause of death was old age.

"Wichita's not far. We can get there by lunch," Dean said. He stood, lightly cuffing Kevin's shoulder. He glanced up from the angel tablet translations, clearly irritated. Still, the interaction reminded Sam of what he and Dean used to do- and it hurt. It hurt a lot, losing trust in the one person you thought you never would.

"Yeah, sounds good," he said, gruffly. "I just have to grab my phone from my room. I'll be right back."

He turned away, doing his best to maintain the stoic "purely business" relationship he and Dean decided on, but it was hard. He knew they would both feel better if they got the chance to scream at each other and punch it out, but maybe this was for the best. Keeping each other at a distance might make it easier to make hard decisions- Lord knows that's been their weakness over the years. Especially Dean's.

As Sam turned the corner into the corridor, he passed Castiel, whose bleary eyes blinked slowly.

"Morning, Cass."

"Yes. It is morning," he said, his voice deep and ruffled with sleep.

Human Castiel was definitely a weird sight. Sam wasn't sure he would ever get used to it. So he nodded, and continued into his room.

At first, he mistook the sound for the electrical outlet as he unplugged his phone. But it wasn't coming from the wall. It was coming from elsewhere in the bunker…

Back in the direction where he'd just come from.

He dropped his phone and ran. He could hear Linda screaming- and he pushed himself faster. He rounded the corner- and saw nothing.

Nothing except Linda standing at the balcony, towel wrapped around her head, screaming.

"Mrs. Tran, what happened?" he said. She took a shaky breath and shook her head.

"I don't know. They're gone. They're just… gone."

It all happened so quickly, Dean still wasn't entirely sure what happened. Castiel came into the room, then there was a flash of light- and the frozen image of Metatron's smirking face. Dean suddenly felt as though his body was being ripped apart atom-by-atom. Judging by the sounds of pain coming from Castiel and Kevin, he suspected they felt the same way.

Then… there was nothing. Well, not exactly nothing- the pain still echoed in his body, but wherever he was felt pretty damn close to sweet oblivion after whatever the hell hit him. He pushed himself off the ground, expecting to feel carpet or tile under his hands. Instead, he felt the crackle of twigs under his palms.

"Sam? Sammy?"

He forced his eyes- still screwed shut from the pain- to open, and found himself in a scattering of trees. Nearby, Castiel was standing slowly, while Kevin leaned against a tree, clutching his head in his hands.

"Where are we?" Kevin asked.

"We've traveled very far," Castiel said, looking around. "In fact, if I'm not mistaken-" he stopped suddenly, meeting Dean's eyes. "You've been quite close to here before."

"That don't mean nothing, Cas," he groaned, standing slowly. "Sam and I have been just about everywhere in the country. You gotta be more specific."

"I'm no longer an angel. I have no idea where we are," Castiel said. "However, my eyes can still detect time better than most humans."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked, stumbling over to Dean. "What does he mean?" he asked again, grabbing Dean's shoulders.

"Calm down, Tran," he grumbled, shrugging off Kevin's hand. Still, he turned to Castiel. "What do you mean?"

"Metatron has sent us back in time," he said. "I cannot pinpoint the exact date, but it feels relatively close to 1944. You had the time you'd come from radiating off your body."

"So, we're in the forties?" Kevin asked. "What's the point?"

"To get us out of the picture," Dean cursed. "Metatron must be behind Gadreel's betrayal. Maybe he's allied with Bartholomew- who knows? We have to find out how to get back."

"Sam's still there. Maybe he-"

"No. He won't," Dean snapped. "If we're going to get out of here, we're gonna do it ourselves. Now, if we're in the forties, then the Men of Letters have already built the bunker, right? So we have to find our way there and they can help us."

"Good idea," Castiel said.

Suddenly, from behind them came the sound of a gun cocking. Dean slowly turned… and had to look a foot below his eyeline to see the girl pointing a pistol at him.

She was small, and skinny, but her eyes were steely and determined. She held the gun in slightly-shaking hands, and her wild, red hair was loose around her head. She took a step forward, keeping the gun aimed at Dean's heart.

"What are you?" she asked.

"Uh-" Kevin stuttered, and she swung the gun around to him.

"I said, what are you?"

"Why are you asking us that?" Dean said, slowly. He reached for the gun in his waistband, trying not to catch the girl's flickering eyes. "Why not 'who'?"

"Dean, she's a hunter," said Castiel, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Stand down."

The girl's eyes widened, and she stumbled back. For the first time, Dean saw fear flicker across her freckled face. "How do you know that?" she asked. The gun trembled in her hands. "What are you?"

"I'm Dean Winchester. This is Castiel, and-"

"Kevin Tran," said Kevin. He was flushing furiously, and Dean wondered why… until he saw the girl's ripped skirt that exposed most of her pale thigh.

"Hey, watch it, Kev," he snapped. "She's too young for you."

"What the hell does that mean?" she snapped, but she lowered the gun. "If anything, I'm older than him."

"Sure, kid," Dean snorted. "Do your parents know you're skipping school?"

"I ain't in school," she huffed, but the corners of her lips turned up in a smile. "Not for a long time, anyhow."

"So, you're a hunter?" Kevin asked. Dean glanced over and saw the boy actively trying to keep his eyes on her face. It was funny to see the prophet actually acting like the college-aged kid he was supposed to be.

"Yeah. You?" The gun remained in her hand, her finger wrapped around the trigger. As she asked this, her grip tightened. "I heard you mention those silly Men of Letters."

"Put the gun down, kid," Dean said. "We're hunters."

At this, she lifted the gun back to his chest, eyes blazing. "Prove it."

Dean sighed. "Fine."

He pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing his tattoo. At the cue, Kevin did the same, revealing the one on his forearm. Castiel stood there, unfazed by the whole situation.

"What about him?" she asked, tilting the gun towards Castiel.

An irrational panic seized Dean's heart for a moment. This was the first time he saw Castiel in danger without the promise of healing grace. He had a feeling this little girl wasn't likely to shoot any of them, but still.

"I'm a human," Castiel said. "I'm afraid I haven't the tattoos they do. But I can assure you of my humanity."

"They way you said that ain't too convincing, buddy," she snapped. Her eyes flickered to Kevin. "If he can vouch for you, I'll stand down."

"Kev? Why not me?" Dean asked, offended.

The girl rolled her eyes. "I know a good liar when I see one, mister. I want the kid to say he's human. He can't lie to save his life."

"Hey!" Kevin exclaimed.

"Am I wrong?"

He hung his head in answer, and sighed deeply. "Castiel isn't human."

"I knew it," she said, and pulled the trigger.

It happened in slow motion. Dean lunged for the girl, and Castiel ducked. Kevin slammed his hands over his ears.

Dean collided with her and tumbled for only a few seconds. After all, he had a foot and at least a hundred pounds on her. But her elbows and knees were bony enough to hurt. He managed to pin her against the ground, and she spit in his face.

He grimaced, but kept her trapped. "Cas, you okay?"

"Yes," said Castiel. "She missed me."

"What is he?" she huffed. "Demon? Shapeshifter? Vampire?"

"Angel," Kevin said.

The shock that spread across her face was all-too familiar to Dean. After all, it wasn't that long ago that he told Sam there was no such thing as angels, only to be quickly- and thankfully- proven wrong.

"Oh," she said, faintly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know," said Castiel. "It's alright, Dean, let her up."

He reluctantly did so, and she scrambled away from him. With her flaming hair, tiny, freckled face, and quick movements, she reminded him of a fox. Cute from afar, but cunning and dangerous up close.

"Angels are real, then?" she asked, chuckling. "Now I've seen everything."

Despite her bravado, Dean could tell that she was afraid. The way her heels were dug into the soil and her body was tensed… she was prepared to run at any moment. Whoever trained her must not have been very good, though, if she couldn't slip out of a simple tackle.

"Where are we?" asked Castiel, always to-the-point. "We need to get to Lebanon, Kansas."

The girl nodded. "I see. That ain't far. We're in Joplin, Missouri."

Kevin frowned, and tilted his head to the side. "Why have I heard of Joplin?"

"I mean, you're here," she said, slowly. "So, you oughta know where it is."

"Look, kid, ten minutes ago we were somewhere far away and we don't know how the hell we got here," Dean snapped. "So.. when are we?"

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"We've traveled back in time," explained Castiel. "Quite a bit of time, if my estimation is correct."

She shook her head, clearly wrapping her brain around it. She nodded, gently. "I suppose I've heard stranger things." She pulled her torn skirt to the side and slid her gun into her garter. With a bright smile, she looked up at them. "It's March of 1933."

"Shit," Dean said. "The bunker hasn't been built yet."

He looked around at the trees, budding with the fresh leaves of spring. In the near distance, he heard a car honk. Damn, he thought. Not that deep into the woods, I guess.

"Miss, are you in contact with the Men of Letters?" Castiel asked, kindly. Dean supposed he could see the girl's well-hidden fear as well.

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sore topic?"

"They left us to die!" she cried. "They've had so many chances to help us, but…" she took a shaky breath. "We should get out of here," she said, absent-mindedly. "I was doing some target practice when y'all showed up. I'm guessing the pigs will be on their way to check it out."

"The… pigs?" asked Castiel. Dean shook his head, exasperated and amused.

"Cops. The police."

"Ah."

The girl brushed her hands on her long skirt and smiled. Dean caught her eyes slide to Kevin, and flicker back to him and Castiel. "Well, you coming?"

-line-

"A small guy with gray hair?" Sam asked. Linda nodded.

"And a beard. He was wearing-"

"A sweater, by chance?"

"Yes!"

"Damn it," he cursed. "Metatron."

Linda stood from the table. "Whoever this Megatron guy is, he has my son. We have to get him back."

"He also has Dean and Castiel," Sam reminded her. He buried his face in his hands. As if they didn't have enough going on, now they had to deal with Metatron? "If Metatron's back on earth, that means things are about to get a lot more complicated."

"I don't care about your drama," Linda snapped. "Kevin's in danger, if he's not dead already. Even if you don't give a crap about my son, even you know how important he is."

"Yeah, I know, Mrs. Tran," Sam sighed. "The problem is, we don't know what happened to them or what exactly Metatron did. We can't get started on anything until we figure that out."

"He said something about Missouri, I think," she said. "It all happened so fast, I can't be exactly sure."

"Can you tell me again what you saw?" he asked. "I need to make sure it wasn't a smiting. If that's the case, there's no point in looking."

He choked back the tears that sprung to his eyes at the idea. Sure, he was pissed as all hell at Dean, but he was still his brother. Losing him again would suck, especially if they never got to make up. He felt so hopeless.

"I got out of the shower when I heard a noise," she said. "I looked into the room, and saw that Mega- Meta?-tron guy lifting his hands. Kevin, Dean, and Castiel fell to the floor. He shouted something over the noise… and then they were all gone."

"And you're sure he shouted Missouri?"

"No, I'm not. But that's my best guess." Linda sat back. "I could use a drink right now."

"You and me both," admitted Sam. "But first we have to figure this out." He glanced towards his laptop, and suddenly something dawned on him. "And I have an idea of where to start."

"Welcome to my home," said the girl, traipsing before them up the steps. "Well, for now, at least."

She opened the door just beyond the landing to reveal a snug apartment, furnished with the bare necessities and the bare necessities only. Well, that and about a million newspaper clippings on the wall and guns littering the floor- but that was the life of a hunter.

"Where are you parents?" he asked, looking around. Judging by the beer bottles scattered around and the piled-up trash, he supposed they weren't exactly great at looking after their daughter.

"Funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "My daddy's been dead for years, and my mama's back in Texas. I'm old enough to be on my own."

"You're, like, thirteen," Dean protested. After all, she didn't look much older than Krissy was the last time he saw her.

"I'll have you know that I am a grown woman," she insisted. She walked to the kitchenette and opened the icebox, procuring a beer. "Want one?"

"Please," said Kevin, reaching out. Dean shook his head, and reached out as well. Castiel remained standing by the door, glancing around in confusion.

"There is something off about this place," he said. "It smells like… death."

"Probably just some leftover sick," said the girl, casually. "And maybe some blood. W.D. got shot the other day and didn't handle my treatment very well."

"W.D.?" Kevin asked. Something in his voice made Dean jolt in surprise. Was it… jealousy?

Did the prophet of God have a crush on some 1930's hunter chick?

"He's one of us," she explained, sipping her beer. "We got quite a group going."

"How many?" Dean asked. Looking around the apartment at the personal items littered around, he suspected there were at least three- the mess was comparable to how he, Sammy, and his dad would leave hotel rooms when they were on the run back in the day.

"Well, we just got two more joining the pack, so that makes us up to five!" she said it happily, as if she didn't know the danger of traveling with a large group of hunters.

"That's risky, you know that, right?" Dean asked.

She swatted her hand. "There's safety in numbers. Besides, life on the road is lonely," she said, sadly. "When you gotta leave your family behind, you find kin elsewhere."

Dean glanced at Castiel, whose confusion was growing deeper by the moment. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation at hand, but rather focused on inspecting the sparse furnishings and the debris littered around the room.

Castiel was his family, just as much as Sam was. Maybe more- but definitely in a different way. Dean didn't know exactly, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"The others, where are they?" Castiel asked. His voice was deeper than usual- his serious voice.

"Out on a hunt, why?" she said. She drained her beer in one gulp and tossed the bottle towards the overflowing trash. It shattered against the floor. "Apparently there's some werewolves over in Springfield. They left yesterday, so they should be back today."

"They left you here, alone?" Kevin asked, worriedly. He looked her up and down- still in a vaguely-sexual way, which made Dean uncomfortable. He still wasn't sure exactly how old she was, and Kevin was barely twenty. He was still a kid to Dean.

"I'm not exactly the best at hunting," she admitted. "I hate the whole.. Killing part of it. I become a bit of a disadvantage. Besides, they're training our newest recruit, so they don't need to worry about two weak links."

"Makes sense," Dean said, nodding. "Besides, your instincts aren't the best."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"You didn't test us with silver or holy water. How do you know we're not here to kill you?"

The girl smirked and skipped to the door. She kicked the carpet away from the entrance, revealing a Devil's trap. "Why do you think I invited you here? Any monster or boogeyman would want to follow me to the hunter's hub, right?"

"That's fair," Dean said with a nod. "Still, no silver?"

"Fine," she moaned. "Sue me for being trusting and all. Catch," she slid a ring off her finger and tossed it to Dean, who caught it. He passed it to Kevin, who passed it to Castiel. "See? You're all good. My instincts are fine."

"You are too trusting for your own good," Castiel noted. "It makes sense for you to remain safe."

"Yeah, well I hate being left out," she said. She avoided their eyes as she took a seat on the threadbare sofa. "I don't want to be the only survivor."

"But you are not willing to kill," Castiel said. She nodded. "For a hunter, that is a dillemma that is impossible to overcome."

"I'm aware," she whispered. She seemed on the verge of crying- and Dean wondered exactly who the hell this little girl was, or why she was drinking beer alone in a busted apartment. It seemed like a sad life… like his life, which he would never wish on anyone.

"I'm a prophet, so they leave me at home too," Kevin said, stumbling over his words. He took a seat on the sofa next to the girl, whose feet barely touched the floor from her seated position. She leaned away from him, blue eyes wide.

"A prophet? Like… from the bible?" she asked. She whistled and sank into the cusions. Her heels clicked against the floor as she kicked them off. "Wow, a prophet, an angel, and a few hunters walk into an apartment. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

"This is not a joke," said Castiel. "We need to find a way to get back, before Metatron does anymore damage."

The girl blinked, looked over at Kevin, and asked, "Do I want to know?"

He shook his head.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, miss," Dean said, mockingly, "We haven't gotten a chance to test you ourselves."

She sighed, and held up her hand with the ring encircling her finger. "Silver." She pointed to the rug in front of the door. "Devil's trap. What more do you want?"

"Forgive me, sweetheart," he hissed, drawing his blade. She stood from the couch, the fear making a return on her face. "But we haven't tested you with our own supplies."

"Don't… don't touch me," she whispered, backing up away from them. Kevin looked frantically between the girl and Dean, clearly unsure of which side to choose. Loyalty, or lust? It was a difficult decision. Dean would know better than anyone.

"Just a quick cut, and we'll know for sure. The only reason you'd be scared is if you got a reason to hate silver," he pointed out, stepping closer to her.

She cried out, and flattened herself against the wall. "Maybe I just don't like knives, okay?"

"You can't expect me to believe that," Dean said with mock sweetness. Castiel reached for him.

"Surely there is a better way to do this," he said, softly. "She is hardly more than a child."

"Stop calling me a child!" she cried. "I can hear you, you know. I am old enough to-"

Her words were cut off by a cry of pain as Kevin sliced her hand with a knife. She clutched it to her chest, the blood from the cut dripping onto her white blouse. Pink and red flowers bloomed as she whimpered.

"You're awful weak for a hunter," Dean remarked. Her eyes sparked in anger.

Suddenly, the door burst open and a man holding a sawed-off shutgun entered. He lifted it and aimed it right at Kevin, who, shocked, dropped the knife immediately.

"Get away from her!" He yelled. "Now!"

"You're not special, buddy," Dean scoffed. He drew his gun and pointed it right back. "I got some firepower as well."

The man simply smirked. "Boys?"

Behind him, a kid several years younger than Kevin stepped out, holding a shotgun at Dean. Another man, this one about Sammy's age, aimed his at Castiel. A woman ducked out from behind them, holding up a little handgun of her own. Her stance suggested she didn't know what the hell she was doing, but her bravado more than made up with it.

"Let her go," he said, voice darker, "Or we start shooting."

"Babe," the girl said, stepping away from Kevin. "Put the gun down. They're hunters. They were just… testing me." She placed her hand on the end of his shotgun and he reluctantly lowered it. "It was a silver knife. I tested them with my ring, they were just returning the favor."

"You ain't being forced to say this, are you?" he asked, softly. She shook her head and kissed him on the lips.

Dean glanced at Kevin, who was blushing even more. Surely the kid's mood wasn't being helped by the fact that the girl he was eyeing up had a boyfriend with a shotgun. The others lowered their weapons. The boy headed into the kitchen and grabbed more beers from the icebox, handing them to the two other men.

"In that case," said the first man, "I suppose introductions are in order. Start."

"I'm Dean," he said. "I'm a hunter. With me are Castiel, an ex-angel, and Kevin, a prophet of the Lord."

The man snorted. "Whatever you say, buddy. Y'all, give our guests your names," he said to his posse.

The kid tipped his hat. "I'm W.D. Jones, at your service."

The older man, his arm around the dark-haired woman, smiled kindly. "I'm Buck. This here's-"

"Blanche," said the woman, clearly still wary of the newcomers. Dean didn't blame her. If anything, she was the smartest of them all.

"Baby, you give them your name yet?" the man asked the little red-head, who smiled at them. She lowered her hand, no longer bleeding.

"No, not yet." She nodded at all of them in turn, her mood obviously raised by the presence of the others. "Nice to meet you, formally, and all. I'm Bonnie."

The man stepped forward, draping his arm over her shoulder. Something frightening and powerful flickered in his eyes. "I'm Clyde."