A/N: This fic was inspired by the song Abraham's daughter by Arcade Fire and I know that Dean's not really a daughter but we can forget that bit.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

The righteous man. It is he who will grant salvation to humanity, it is he who will prevent the apocalypse from passing, it is he who will become the Michael sword and will defeat Lucifer by casting him back into his cage. There are many good men who deserve that title and worthy of such a destiny but Heaven needs the true righteous man in order for the prophecy to be truly completed. So the Angels have decided to take it upon themselves to try and find the Righteous One.

It's not going that well.

Some Angels have confronted the fates, to show them the identity of the righteous man, but even fate had trouble to see who it is. Several garrisons of Angels have even manipulated time itself; travelling into the future to find Him. Alas, there were too many futures, too many outcomes even for Angels, to see who the righteous man is. So finally the Heavenly Host decided to revert back to their old ways. They found their true righteous men that way before that way so why wouldn't it work now? Heaven wanted to find those worthy of being the Righteous man and test them, their loyalty, their faith, their love.

So the Angels, full of intent and a single-minded purpose, did exactly that.

In a motel in Louisville, Kentucky, John Winchester dozes on a gaudy, moth eaten couch, drinking his ass off, when he gets a message from heaven. It wasn't the most ideal time as him and his sons Sam and Dean, just an hour before were doing a regular salt'n'burn before the vengeful widow spirit managed to lay a couple of punches on 'em. Well, Dean needed stitches on his abdomen and Sam was knocked unconscious… but it was nothin' they couldn't handle -they were tough boys and they were Winchesters. Making sure they were still breathing, John turned his head to look at his sons sleeping, sharing a queen bed. Damn. When did Sam get so tall for a 15 year old? Or was he 16? John blamed his inability to recall his youngest son's age on the alcohol. The affects of exhaustion, pain and being piss drunk had John just under the surface of sleep, and John closed his eyes.

John was back in his home town in Indiana, he was at the 'Batter Up' batting cages where he would spend time as a teen. The nets had fist-sized holes in them and the standard issue bats they gave were worn. John loved the place. Because this was a dream, he could hit every ball without even trying; he hit what would have been a good shot until some random guy caught the ball. Wow. Even other people in his dreams are pretty good fielders. The guy was wearing a trench coat and had crazy dark hair, and when he turned around John felt something close to terror, he didn't know why- it was just that the guy had electric blue eyes that made John feel as if they were going to fry him, then he opened his mouth and his deep voice, intense and full of force that it echoed through John's consciousness, and with every word it felt as if his atoms were going to split until the Winchester became nothing.

"John Winchester. My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord and we have work for you."

When Dean woke up his first thought was Ow! His eyes were gritty and his chest and stomach felt like a bull had repeatedly rammed into him. Turns out it was Sam. His gangly arm was spread out on Dean's chest. This is why we should stop sharing beds when we're over 12… Dean thought, irritated at his rude awakening, but Dean would rather have to wake up to Sammy's body parts molesting him than leave Sam alone at night. The stitches from when that frigid bitch raked her nails down Dean's chest started to feel like they would open at any second. No wonder why that ghost chick's husband decided to gank her, she really did have a set of claws on her.

He craned his neck to look at Sammy or Samantha. Seriously, his floppy brown hair was so long you could actually mistake him for a girl. Dean thinks that Sam grows his hair too long to cover up the amount of bruises and cuts they get from hunting; his baby brother gets uncomfortable when people ask him about how he acquired them. Sammy just wants to be normal and it saddens Dean to think that the only bit of normalcy he gets is when he hides his wounds.

Dean looks round the crappy motel room, every single pattern seemed like it was straight from the 1970's, like all generic motels are. He looked at the alarm clock; the neon green colours read 08:50 AM. Shit. They over slept and when you're a hunter time cost lives; the Winchesters needed to head to Birmingham, Alabama after they found out a cursed necklace was killing the people who wore it.

Dean stood up too fast, his chest felt like it was on fire but he had to wake up his dad, he probably overslept… or hung-over. So when Dean saw his father completely awake and sitting up, staring into nothingness, Dean had to admit he was pretty terrified. It looked like his dad had gone into shock, but Dean had saw his dad face werewolves and evil spirits without even batting an eyelid. Even on the anniversary of Mary's death, John didn't seem like this, if anything, it made John even more determined to hunt down every evil sonofabitch he could find. And for once, in a long time Dean felt like that scared little boy who realized he lost a mother.

"Dad?" No response from John, his eyes were glassy, but still seemed to be in focus.

"Dad!" Dean shouted at his father, panic growing in his voice. He stalked up to his dad and slapped him round the face. That's when John reacted. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he barely slept last night. He squinted up at Dean, as if he couldn't really see him.

"Sam?" He asked, as if he were unsure.

"No dad, it's me… Dean. Your other son." Dean felt so helpless; he never thought he'd have to say those worse to his own father. John slumped further into his seat, his expression was sad, dejected even. Why isn't dad happy to see me? Aren't I as good as Sammy? Dean's mind was swimming with questions and thoughts, so he decided to get Sam; he'll know what to do, maybe that's why dad asked for him.

Sam came stumbling in, his footing was unsteady but he still managed to stay on his big clown feet.

"Dean? What's going on?" He asked, his voice sounded suspicious.

"Um. It's dad. I'm not sure. He keeps… I don't know, Sam. He asked for you." Dean could barely get out a sentence, but he felt so useless now. He looked at his baby brother, observing his father and checking his vitals- Why couldn't I do that? Dean thought, feeling incompetent.

"Dad? It's Sam, Dean said you wanted me." Sam said hesitantly. He wasn't sure how his father would react; besides, he never knew how his dad would react anyway, regardless of being in shock. Then, it was as if Sam flipped a switched on his dad, his eyes focused on his youngest son, and John's whole demeanour changed.

"Sam? Sam. We have to go. Now." His father's voice sounded like his own, commanding, yet it seemed lighter with pride. John stood up and started to head out the door as if in a daze and Sam, now worried and scared, followed whilst trying to talk some sense into his father.

"Dad? Dad! You're not well, you're in shock. Dad! You shouldn't be moving around. I need to check for a concussion!"

It was Dean who managed to wrap his arms around his father, but John shook him off with so much force than Dean stumbled back and slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Dean gasped, but it was more with surprise than pain; dad had never deliberately hurt his sons even when they were doing combat training. Maybe dad is possessed…No! He already has protection charms and his tat; there would be no way that a demon was hitching a ride.

John opened the motel door and turned around to face Sam; his face had a determined look, like when he was hunting.

"Sam, come." That was all he said before he just walked out. The younger Winchester just stood there, rooted to the spot, too scared to move. He looked at his older brother for help like always, even in the crappiest situations Dean always knew what to do, but now he just looked hopeless.

"Sam! We're going, right now!" John shouted, even from outside his voice managed to scare his sons.

"What about Dean, dad? Is he coming?" Sam asked, he never left his brother's side and the thought of Sam going off with his dad, all alone seemed to terrify him.

"No! Dean will wait here for me when I get back. We don't need Dean for this." John seemed angry now, and grabbed Sam's arm and wrenched him out of their motel room and to the parking lot.

"Dad! Dad let go! I want Dean!" The younger Winchester tried to wrestle himself out of his father's grasp but John was too strong and shoved Sam into the back of the impala. Dean tried to wrestle John again, but now John punched Dean with so much force that when Dean sprawled onto the tarmac of the parking lot he didn't get up. He didn't even move. By now, Sam was crying, why was his dad acting like this? And Dean. Dad loved Dean and would never deliberately lay a finger on him, but now his father had knocked him out like it was nothing.

Sam didn't even move, he was terrified, even more terrified than when he first had to kill a werewolf, when he was 12 and shaking. He didn't dare move just in case his father was going to do anything worse to him, or Dean.

John sighed with irritation. "Can't leave the boy here…People will talk." He then scooped up his eldest son, as if he weighed nothing and shoved him in the backseat. He then proceeded to handcuff him to the interior door handle.

When his dad turned the ignition on Sam knew he was screwed. He really hoped that Dean will save him but Sam was a smart kid and he knew that it wouldn't be possible.

"Sam! Sam, get up!" John's voice was loud enough to drag Sam out of sleep, he couldn't remember when he dozed off but he had been crying a lot and tears make him sleepy. He sat up and his muscles cramped. Despite how big a monster the Chevy is, he has always ended up in pain from all the weird sleeping positions. Sam turned his head to look at the backseat, and saw Dean, still unconscious, slumped like a rag doll. Wiping the tears that had formed in his eyes, Sam exited the car sluggishly and looked around.

They seemed to be near some sort of forest which seemed to go on for miles. Sam realized that they weren't parked in official parking lot and Sam tried to ignore the nagging voice at the back of his head saying maybe because we don't want to be found. They saw the inconspicuous trail they would have to take, and it dawned on the younger Winchester that maybe Dean wouldn't find Sam and John here, everything seemed to go on for miles and that's when Sam had an idea. So he discreetly got out his Swiss army knife and done it.

Dean woke up in pain for the second time today, except this one was more emotional than physical. He opened his eyes, sat up though his stomach muscles were protesting and saw that Sammy was gone. His jaw felt hot and was throbbing with pain but that was the least of his problems; Why did they go? Where did they go? Would they come back? Would Sammy be okay? Dean's mind was racing and before he knew it, tears were streaking down his cheeks, he was distressed and frustrated and he hated being away from Sammy, even in school and the fact that he's with dad… He tried to move his arm, but he was handcuffed to the door handle. He tried to pry his hand out of the cold metal's grasp but failed. When he was younger his dad taught him how to pick locks in handcuffs. He could practically do it in his sleep. He always had a lock pick hidden in his watch, and in about 30 seconds he was out of handcuffs. Piece of cake. He fumbled about in his pocket before he got out his cell phone. He scrolled through the contacts until he found Sam's number and called him.

One ring…two rings… three rings…. With every second Dean's heart seemed heavier, like it was turning to lead. On the eighth ring it picked up.

"Dean?" Sam asked, soft and quiet through the phone.

"Sam!" Dean felt relief flood through him, and hope, hope that he will find his brother.

"Sammy, where are you? Where's dad? What's he doing?"

"I pretended I needed to pee so dad left me here but he said he'll back be back in about 20 seconds. We're at the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. I left you a trail. Dean, please hurry, I don't know what dad gonna do when we stop hiking. Please Dean." Sam's voice broke, and Dean could practically hear the tears through the phone.

"Sam, I promise, I'll come for you. Promise." Dean tried to reassure Sam that he'll come for him, no matter what. "A trail of what?"

"Dean, please. I'm scared." And that just broke Dean's heart, because no matter how old Sammy will be, he will always be the little four year old who had nightmares of the monster in the cupboard, and Dean will always be the eight year old, trying to comfort him by humming Hey Jude. It was natural, protecting Sammy was as natural as breathing, and without Sam, Dean felt as if he was deprived of oxygen. As if he was dying. It was instinct to protect his brother and now Dean knew that he would try his damn hardest to find him. So when he spoke his next words, he meant every single one.

"Sammy, I promise, I'll come for you."

Silence.

Sam probably would have enjoyed the scenery if he wasn't held hostage by his dad. The trees made him feel trapped, in a way. He was glad he had boots on but his feet still managed to pain him. They were hiking for hours, the trail never seemed to end, they passed multiple springs full of water and Sam wished that his dad had other drinks in his jacket apart from Jack. He had a meagre lunch of beef jerky which done nothing to sate his thirst. He was so very tempted to use his knife on his dad, but John had deadlier weapons and he could easily take his son down. Instead he would just use the knife for his trail. He wanted Dean to follow it quickly as Sam didn't know how long he'll last; he felt disorientated and his tongue felt thick and fuzzy in his mouth, the higher the seemed to go, the colder it was getting and when they finally stopped Sam was shivering and dehydrated.

They ended up in some sort of clearing, trees surrounded the area and in the center were a lot of rocks and mud. He figured it was about 9 pm that night. Just 10 hours ago he was sleeping, with his dad and brother, safe in a motel room. It seemed so far away now, like a distant memory. Sam turned around to face his dad- instead of the usual determination that he wore now he just seemed tense.

"Dad? Why are we here?" Sam tried to make his voice steady and calm but ultimately failed.

"Sam. Sammy, you'remy special son. You know that, right? More special than your brother and this is why you have been chosen. This is why they chose me, in fact." John seemed oddly calm and his eyes had look to them that reminded Sam of a madman. His father reached for his duffle bag and pulled out a length of rope and one of his hunting knives.

"Sam, get over here."

Sam, now terrified tried to stumble back from his father, away from him because he knows that this guy could not be his father. Sam didn't even have to think twice before he knew that the knife was meant for him. For his skin and for his heart. The younger Winchester tried to sprint away from his dad but John's arms wrapped around him like a snake to its prey, and his father's fist collided with his skull and everything went black.

Dean knew that his dad would pick a secluded spot to park his baby; years of hunting made you a paranoid bastard and John would always find secret places to park the impala as he didn't want people finding his hunting gear in the trunk or ruin his baby's paint job. Dean took his time trying to recover from being knocked out but he should have been faster, John and Sam would have left by now. But for what?Was the question that was playing on Dean's mind. Were John and Sam on a hunt or having some father-son bonding time without Dean? Frankly, he didn't know which was worse.

He looked at the grove of trees that led up to the Mountain, he was calculating the chances of him finding his brother, and that was when Dean saw it. A piece of black cloth hanging from the branch of a tree, Dean didn't have to think twice to know it was Sam's. When they hunt Wendigo's in forests and they have to split up, instead of using cell phones to communicate 'cause of the noise, they would cut a strip of their under shirts and hang them on tree branches in the direction they were heading. It always worked, and Sam, the smart-ass, was doing it right now. Dean knew that he had a chance to save Sam.

So Dean set off, looking for Sam. It was relatively easy, spotting the distinctive black cloth pieces against the vegetation of the forest. His body had aches and pains and he was feeling thirsty, but he knew that every second could mean life or death for his younger brother. He reached a crest, a clearing and that's where he saw his brother.

Sammy was right in the centre of the clearing, tied up and was slumped as if he'd been knocked unconscious, which was probably due to the swelling red knot on his forehead. Right there and then, Dean seeing his brother bound and gagged, made Dean promise that he was going to made his bastard of a father pay.

Dean saw John, wielding a knife and he didn't have to guess who it was for. Dean had to move swiftly and undetected as his father could strike a death blow to Sam at any moment. Dean got out his hunting knife, silver with a jagged edge, ready to use on his dad.

Then John started chanting in another language, not Latin or ancient Greek, something that felt older and every word seemed to make Dean's bones vibrate and make his mind buzz.

Just as Dean was going to run across the clearing to Sam, a bright light shined down on them, like a search light that they used in WWII. Did they use them to search for lost hikers? Dean wondered. But as he looked up he saw that the light was coming directly above them. And nothing seemed to be the light source. Dean instantly knew that this was something supernatural.

Then shit really started to hit the fan.

The trees around the Winchesters started billowing as if they were in a storm. Lightening clashed with thunder, burning the trees, some trees even snapped due to the sheer force, and then a man emerged from the shadows. He was average height with black hair and wore a trench coat. He reminded Dean of John Constantine, a comic book character who wore a coat like that, but seriously, who goes hiking in a suit? Trench coat guy acted unfazed by what was happening around him, and Dean swore that every time lightening flashed, the shadows that it created behind him made it look like the guy had wings. Even Dean, the sceptic of the Winchester family, thought that this wasn't just coincidental. If Dean was scared before, it was nothing compared to the terror that was happening to him now.

Then the guy started talking.

"John Winchester. You have done as we asked? You have brought your son?" His voice was deep and gravelly and seemed to carry out all the way across the grove of trees.

John had a determined look on his face mixed with awe. "Yes, Castiel. I have done as you asked. He is here." John gestured to Sam; he still didn't stir, even though there was a storm not 20 seconds ago. Dean was still hidden; he had to wait for the perfect chance to strike. If he timed it wrong he had a feeling that the trench coat guy-Castiel could take him.

Castiel nodded, as if he was pleased, but he had a grim look on his face. "Then I must ask you to commence with the sacrifice."

Sacrifice? Dean's heart was pounding. He missed the rest of the conversation between his father and Castiel, the blood was rushing in his ears, his breathing was in fast rapid breaths. He went into hunter mode; he needed to act fast.

John raised his knife, ready to let it slice along Sam's neck, it all seemed in slow motion for Dean, as if he was moving through quicksand. Dean knew that he wouldn't reach John or push past Castiel in time to reach Sammy. Dean was too late. So he done the only thing he could do.

"Stop! Dad, stop it! Stop!" Dean's voice was loud and hoarse he shouted louder than he ever thought possible, scared that his father did not hear. He ran out of the trees where he was hiding and made sure that John could see him.

Silence followed for several seconds. John turned around and looked at Dean, his face angry and confused. But Dean didn't care; Sam was unharmed, for now. Dean might have a chance to save him if he could distract dad and Castiel. Who by the way, was looking at him intensely. Like how a predator regards his prey.

Now that Dean was close enough to see Castiel, Dean wished he could run back to the rocks; Castiel had these bright blue penetrating eyes, that felt as if they were looking into his soul, his mind, his very being. And it terrified him.

"What is your name?" Castiel asked. His voice was powerful and yet, full of curiosity. He tilted his head and that made Dean think Adorable! ...Weird. Dean was going to delete that thought.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." Dean decided to answer truthfully as he knew that despite how slight and slender Castiel seemed, he was a powerful being and should respect him. But this bastard wanted Sam dead so this guy can go fuck himself. "Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel." He stated, simple. Dean needed more of an explanation.

"Yeah, what are you?" Dean was pissed. Like really pissed. He reached for his hunting knife; if he could keep Castiel talking for longer he might be able to gank the bastard. Then his dad.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord." He said it with a straight face, but Dean could hear a hint of pride in his voice, and maybe a little sadness. Angels? Is he trying to be funny? Angels don't make you kill the people you love, they perch on your shoulder and be your guardian angel. Dean looked at John; he was just standing there, watching the interaction between his son and the Angel.

"Sure, and I'm batman." Dean retorted. Again, the angel done the head-tilt and Dean took the 'Angel's' momentary confusion as a chance to strike.

He pierced Castiel's heart with his knife and sprinted across to Sammy. He is so close. Dean dodged his father's blow and done one of his own. It hit John's cheek and sent him into the mud. He ran over to his brother and the first thing he felt was relief. And love. He loosened the knots that were around his baby brother's red wrists and cradled him in his arms as he stood up. But when he turned round, Castiel was there. Like up in Dean's face. And he looked pissed. He had a blood stain the size of a coin where his heart was, and Dean's knife wasn't in his heart, it was in his hand. Demon. He was definitively a demon.

"How dare you defy your father? Defy me?" Castiel asked, sounding astounded.

"You're not touching my brother. Kill me, not him." To be honest, Dean really didn't care who he defied, as long as his brother was safe he'd defy even God himself!

Castiel frowned. "I do not understand." He whispered, but his voice still seemed powerful. He looked up at the sky. And disappeared with nothing except the sound of rustling. Then the elder Winchester collapsed onto the floor, with his brother in his arms.

A/N: This story is based on Abraham and Isaac. That was probably obvious due to the story being based on the song Abraham's daughter. I'm really tired.