*disclaimers, the cool thing to do: I own nothing. So yeah…I guess that's it. Also, this is a work of fiction, something I'm doing to unwind. I have no beta or anything like that. There shouldn't be any terribly egregious grammatical errors or anything, but if there are, just let it slide. I'm just in it to have fun. Read and review, but no angry flames please. :) Thank ye kindly.

SUMMERY: Castiel is lost, in more ways than one. His faith, loyalties, and strength are challenged as he endures the war of hell and the hell of war. Meanwhile, a moment of weakness on his part may put Dean, Sam, and all of humanity at risk. And ultimately everyone on this journey must ask themselves who wrote the story of this world and war? *rated for violence and some language; rating may change later so check under the 'M' ratings if the story suddenly vanishes.

Apocryphal

Chapter Two

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Gone. As in not here anymore."

Dean Winchester smirked. Touché he thought as he stared at Uriel. The angel stood, his head high with his typical and very annoying pride. His brown eyes looked at Dean as though he were watching an impaired dog chase his tail.

"Well, thank you. You have once again proven your superiority over us lowly humans by loosely defining the word gone. While you're at it, can you run what 'here' means by me? I'd like to have something to compare 'gone' to. You know, just so I can fully grasp the concept in all its glory." Dean turned away from Uriel and rolled his eyes at Sam, who was standing by the door with an expression of fearful surprise.

"How does an angel just disappear? Don't you guys have some way of like tracking each other or something?" Sam asked intensely. His concern, clearly greater than Dean's at the moment, reverberated in his tone.

"The Lord doesn't microchip his soldiers," Uriel snapped. Though Dean wasn't facing him he knew that that angel's eyes were fixed on the back of his head. He felt the stare as though it were burning through the back of his skull. Whirling around to again face Uriel he extended his hands and smiled sardonically.

"Someone's been watching Animal Planet," He exclaimed. "You angels stealing cable from the mud monkeys? You gotta admit, no one televises a dog show like us. I'm especially proud of the way we handle the pugs. Short and bug eyed, yet we still make them look damn good on camera."

"Dean!" Sam moaned. "This is serious."

"Oh c'mon," Dean snorted. Exasperation was creeping into his voice. Here they were, on a serious hunt in a shitty, cold town when the Angel of Attitude shows up at their hotel room. "Sam, they're angels remember? All powerful, time bending, white fluffy winged warriors-"

"Do I look like I have a pair of fluffy wings?" Uriel snapped, his eyes narrowing with anger.

"I'm saying what kind of trouble could he be in where he couldn't help himself?"

Dean walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled it open. The leftovers from his and Sam's late night dinner were starting to stink. This was probably due to the fact that said late night dinner had taken place six days ago. For a moment, Dean considered taking the cartons of spoiled food from the fridge and tossing them in the garbage. After careful consideration, he shook his head; no way he was touching that crap. Sammy could play housekeeper later. Instead, Dean grabbed a bear and popped the tab. He took a long swig and turned back to Uriel who was staring off at the ceiling as though having some private conversation with one of the many brown stains that had taken up residence on the cheap plaster.

"You hear what I'm saying, Sam?" Dean asked, more to break the silence than to continue the conversation. He have been just fine if he'd turned around and Uriel had pulled the disappearing rabbit trick that angel's seemed to fond of.

"We are not…invincible," Uriel said. His voice had calmed but was filled with a strange emotion. Humility? Nah, Dean thought. An angel wouldn't know humility if it bit him on the ass.

"But you are strong," Sam pointed out, his voice bordering on desperation. "You can-"

"He knows where you are," Uriel interrupted, arrogance returning to his voice. His eyes flicked from Dean to Sam then back to Dean again. "He knows the Plan…battles we intend to fight and how we know we can win them. He knows our strategies, your strategies, the locations of all the hunters…he knows how we all plan to win this war."

"Smart boy that Castiel," Dean said wryly. Though he was playing dumb, he realized where this was going. If Castiel had fallen into enemy hands…well, Dean knew more than anyone that they had ways of getting information out of someone.

"So…what happened?" Dean snapped after another silence had persisted for almost a full minute.

"We were in battle," Uriel said, shaking his head. "It was happening in Kansas…I believe you know the town."

Lawrence? Dean and Sam thought at the same time.

"Woah there, buddy," Dean said, pointing a finger at Uriel. "If there was something going on In Lawrence we would have heard."

"It wasn't in the paper…no one knew but us. There was another seal about to be broken."

"What seal?" Sam asked.

"Unimportant. It wasn't broken. But we lost 4 brothers, including Castiel."

"Lost?" Dean asked. He anticipated what Uriel would say as soon as the angel opened his mouth. "No, I know what lost means hot shot. How was he lost?"

"That's of no concern to you. He was lost. Taken, rather. By Lilith."

The pause that followed was yet longer than the two before. This time even Dean was so lost in thought that he didn't care about the uncomfortable quiet. Why was Uriel being so evasive?

"How long ago?" Sam asked finally.

"Three of your weeks," Uriel replied darkly. He turned to face the window. "It may already be too late."

"He could still be alive!" Sam protested. "I mean Dean…"

Sam trailed off, looking at his brother fearfully. It was a dangerous thing to do, mentioning what he'd been through. Sometimes he reacted with humor, other times with sadness, and still others with anger. He seemed unaffected, however, and nodded at Sam to continue.

"Dean was down there for four months. And he was still alive…at least alive enough to be pulled out."

"Of course Castiel is still alive," Uriel said slowly, as though explaining something to a small child. "But he might have already begun talking about things that could cost us the war."

"Let me get this straight," Dean snapped. "You don't care about your fellow angel so much as you care about what he's been saying?"

"Warriors fall in battle, Dean. You should know that more than anyone. If Castiel had died…we would have mourned, yes. And then moved on. But he didn't die. They kept him alive, alive so they could use him against us. That's a problem."

"Never mind that he's in hell," Sam muttered, sitting on the edge of his bed. He shook his head and Dean could imagine was he was feeling; angry, sad, and appalled.

"Why did you wait so long to find us?" Dean asked. He waiting for Uriel to turn back and face him but the angel didn't.

"It isn't your help I seek," Uriel replied with an amused chuckle. "There's nothing that a mud monkey as yourself could possibly offer. I came on orders that I was to warn you. If Castiel has betrayed us-"

"Don't call it that," Dean snapped. "You have NO idea." He briefly flashed back to his own experience. After a week in the pit, Satan himself could have asked Dean how best to kill his own brother and Dean would have told him. The young man shuddered and took another drink from his beer.

"They will come for you and they will kill you," Uriel continued curtly. "Work on the assumption that they know and disappear. If we can salvage this war then you'll be needed. So leave. Go wherever you like but don't stay long. Keep moving until you hear otherwise."

"What about Castiel?" Sam whispered. Uriel was gone before he was even able to finish the sentence.

Dean blinked, studying the empty space where Uriel had stood. His head was starting to ache and his stomach felt queasy. He didn't know if it was from fear or pity for Castiel. Maybe both.

"What do we do?" Sam asked. He had walked up to Dean and his voice, suddenly so close, made Dean jump a little. Sam must have noticed because from the corner of his eye, Dean saw him back up.

"We stay," Dean answered, clearing his throat. "We finish this job. Then we leave. I'll call Bobby. Let him know to spread the word to other hunters…minus all the angel stuff." Though Castiel had never requested Dean keep the angels' presence on earth a secret the hunter felt it was probably best to keep as much as possible under wraps for now.

"What about Castiel?" Sam asked. "Is there anything we can…I mean, we sort of owe him don't we?"

"For what? His vague answers to our questions? His annoying ability to appear only after we're out of danger?" Dean muttered. His headache was getting worse and now he felt like he might vomit at any second. When he met Sam's eyes he knew he was seeing the same emotions that his younger brother saw in his own gaze.

Dean would be damned before he'd admit it but he was sad for Castiel. Sad to lose him and sad he couldn't help him...sad because the angel, for whatever his faults, had saved Dean and by doing so had saved Sam. That, especially the latter part, made Dean feel indebted to Castiel. And really, he wasn't so annoying. Earthly challenged, sure but…

Sam smiled sadly at his big brother.

"So…I wonder what will come up when we google 'saving angels from hell'," He said softly.

"My money is on a really screwed up porno site," Dean quipped, brightening instantly.

Sam grabbed his laptop turned it on. It didn't need to be said that both brothers were aware this would be a losing battle. Sam had spent months trying to bust Dean out of the pit only to meet with dead end after dead end. Nevertheless they knew they had to try, if only to attempt to pay of their debt.

"You realize we could go to hell for this, right?" Dean winked at Sam and nudged him with his elbow.

"What?" Sam looked at him blankly, clearly not getting the joke.

"You know? Pulling someone out of hell? I imagine you'd have to go to hell to do it…never mind, Sammy. Start typing. I'll call Bobby. At least he has a sense of humor."

"Since when?" Sam smirked.

"Atta boy," Dean chuckled. He picked up the phone and began dialing, a heavy weight suddenly falling on his shoulders.