Disclaimer: Supernatural and Constantine are both the properties of their respective owners and not mine. I just love them to bits.

Constantine shot Sam a questioning look as the sound of the Impala's engines faded. Sam sighed.

"Cas, Castiel I guess I should say, was Dean's friend. Friend isn't really enough though- Dean saw him as a second brother. He was the angel who saved Dean from Hell, who rebelled against heaven for him, who rose and fell and did it all to help Dean. He was always there, whenever we needed him, even after I- after Lucifer killed him, he somehow came back and tried to make things right.

"It wasn't until after Cas died that Dean and I realized how much we owe him, and how little we ever really did for him. It broke Dean's heart." Constantine shifted slightly and Sam looked up at him reproachfully. "And not in any kind of gay-lovers way."

"I never said it was."

"No, but that's what people usually think. It was that deep of a friendship." Sam sighed again, deeper, rubbing his right thumb against his scarred hand unconsciously. When he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to stop. "And now you show up at our door months later with an amulet Dean never thought he'd see again, a bracelet for a mental hospital, and news that while we've been going on with our lives up here, Castiel has been trapped in the pit for all this time. So yeah, I would say he's got a right to be freaking out."

"But I don't understand. This Castiel is an angel, right? He had the power to go into Hell and not only come back out, but take your brother with him. And now you're telling me he's being held captive by a couple of hellhounds and a demon or two? This doesn't seem right."

"It's not." Sam frowned thoughtfully at the table. "Was there anything else that you noticed? Anything on him, or around him, or in him that seemed out of place?"

Constantine thought for a moment. "Nothing. If there was anything on him, I couldn't see it through… everything else. He was in pretty bad shape."

The two men sat in silence for a long time, neither willing to talk about why Constantine was there, neither able to think of anything else. Constantine pulled a worn paperback from his coat pocket, and Sam flipped open his laptop and started aimlessly typing in search terms. A while later, they heard the soft purr of the Impala's engines as Dean returned. Constantine stood up hastily and muttered something about needing to pick up more Nicorette before rushing out the door, squeezing past Dean as he entered with a bag of McDonalds.

"What Sammy, did you profess your undying love to him or something?" Dean's voice was light as he kicked the door shut behind him, but he refused to look Sam in the eye. Sam said nothing, only watched as Dean deposited the food on the table and shed his coat, which he threw haphazardly on top of Constantine's. The silence stretched awkwardly until Dean spoke.

"Well?"'

"Well what?"

"Well aren't you gonna try to make me talk about 'how I feel,' or pull some sort of touchy-feely Dr. Phil crap or something?"

"Dean, what do you want me to do? You never want to talk about what's bothering you, so why-"

"Who says it's bothering me?"

Sam sat back in his chair and stared at Dean in disbelief. "Are you serious Dean? You ditched us and drove off without a word and didn't come back for" -Sam checked his watch- "two hours! This guy just showed up at the door with the news that the angel who's saved both our asses more than once is trapped in Hell, and his vessel is locked up in a mental hospital somewhere. Are you telling me that doesn't bother you?"

Dean turned away angrily, sitting on one of the beds to unnecessarily clean and check all of his weapons again. Just when Sam thought he wasn't going to say anything, dean spoke, head still bent, eyes focused on his weapons.

"Of course it bothers me Sammy. After what-" he swallowed hard before continuing. 'What Cas did for us? Hell yes it bothers me. But my sitting here talking to you about it isn't going to get him out of there." Dean finally met Sam's gaze, and the pain in his eyes made Sam's heart ache. "Now that I know Cas isn't gone? I can't leave him alone Sam. I just can't."

"We're not going to, Dean." Sam put as much reassurance in his voice as he could. "As soon as Constantine gets back, we'll make a plan, get some sleep, and head out in the morning. Look," Sam spun the computer around to show Dean the screen. "I've already gotten the address of the hospital where Jimmy is. We're gonna get him back Dean. I promise." Dean nodded once and turned away again, leaving Sam alone with the jeering voice in his head which told him that they had no chance.

When Constantine returned, they decided for economy's sake that it made no sense for him to rent a room for what was left of the night, so Dean and Sam just shared one of the beds. There were no problems with the arrangement until the next morning, when Sam was awakened by Dean's fist smashing into his jaw. Swearing, he rolled off the bed and stood, looking down at his brother.

Sam could see the beads of sweat standing out on Dean's face as he flailed once more and then sat up with a gasp, startled out of sleep. His eyes stared blankly for a minute before they focused on Sam, who was watching with worried eyes. He was all too familiar with the nightmares, the waking up in a cold sweat knowing that something important was gone. The same thing had happened to him for months after he had lost Jess.

"Dean?"

"I'm going to shower," Dean muttered, stomping into the bathroom and slamming the door. The noise woke Constantine, who sat up blinking. He had slept in his suit, although Sam had offered him some of Dean's clothes to borrow, and his white shirt was wrinkled.

"What happened to him?" he slurred, rubbing his stubbly chin. Sam didn't answer, instead making his way to the table to look over the directions to the Bootbock Mental Hospital. The GPS website said they were about five hours away, which meant three with Dean driving. Actually, Sam realized, they hadn't discussed how they were getting there. He turned to Constantine, who was stretching a crick in his neck.

"So, um, I don't know how you got here, but the way Dean drives it'll probably be easier if you just carpool with us. You mind leaving your car here? We can always come back for it after."

Constantine hesitated for a moment, the finally nodded. "Sure. I know a place not too far from here where I can leave it until we get back."

Sam nodded. "I'm just gonna go get some coffee and bagels from the gas station across the way."

By the time Sam got back, Dean was out of the shower and Constantine was sitting at the table examining the duffle bag of goodies that Dean always brought with him everywhere. As Sam put the food on the table, Constantine pulled a long stake-like object out of the bag, one made of a pure silvery material that seemed to glow softly in the weak morning sunlight. He whistled softly.

"What the hell is this for?"

Dean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he responded in a normal enough voice. "It's a knife that kills angels. I keep it with me just in case they decide that they don't feel like putting up with our existence anymore."

"What I wouldn't have given for this a year ago" Constantine muttered, carefully sliding the weapon back into the bag.

"You had angel troubles too?" Dean sounded almost interested.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Although then again, maybe you would." Constantine did not seem inclined to give any more details, so they ate the bagels in silence. When they were done, Sam and Dean packed what little gear they had left lying around and the three men headed out the door.

The parking lot was totally empty except for the Impala and a beat-up old NYC taxi-cab, with a dented hood that reminded both Winchesters of Sam's car after a demon had fallen out of a second story window onto it.

"Dude," Dean said sadly, "Somebody must've boosted your car and left you this piece of crap. Tough luck." Constantine shoved roughly past him and went to the Taxi, popping the trunk as he did.

"This is my car, asshole. It used to belong to a friend of mine, and I promised him I'd look after it." He gave the driver's side door a practiced jimmy, and it sprang open. With an irritated shake of his head, Constantine got in. "I'll meet you at the car dealership up the road." Closing the door with a snap, he sped off. Sam gave his brother a disapproving glare.

"Nice, Dean."

"What?"

"We've know the guy for eight hours and you've already pissed him off." Sam walked over to the impala and squeezed in.

"Aww come on Sam! How was I supposed to know he was all sentimental over such a piece of junk?" Dean rubbed the Impala's hood as he went by, crooning softly to it. "Even if it was a Porsche, it wouldn't have nothing on you, Baby."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean can we get on with this? He's going to leave without us if we don't get there soon."

"Shut up man, you're drowning out the Stones!"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

With a squeal of tires, the impala peeled out, heading south towards Bootbock, Kansas.