The roads into Dupree are flooded with medical personnel, firetrucks, contractors, frantic family members, and well-meaning good Samaritans. According to the radio, there's a road block on nearly every highway, so Dean doesn't bother trying to avoid it and heads straight into the traffic jam. It takes him over an hour to clear it, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel in growing agitation. As he finally reaches the road block, an officer stops him and knocks on the window.

The worry must be scrawled all over his face, because the officer asks, "Looking for family?"

Dean nods, but can't bring himself to say the words. It isn't family. It's Cas.

"All the victims have been flown out of the city, most of them towards Gettysberg. You're better off heading back that way. Check with the Gettysburg Memorial Hospital." When Dean looks stubborn, the officer shakes his head. "The FBI will be here soon, kid, and they're planning on locking up the city. Huge investigation. I'm telling you, you're better off turning around."

And so he does, bitching mentally that he'd already come from that direction and it was a waste of time. He should have called ahead checked things out-he'd never make a mistake like that if he weren't rusty-but his worry and exhaustion blinds him. Dean hits the pedal, speeding eastbound.

He makes the drive in an hour and a half, even with all the traffic clearly on the same path and purpose as he. When he finds the hospital, he veers into a parking space with the whine of skidding tires and reaches into the duffle for Uriel's sword. He hides it under his clothes and runs for the hospital doors, greeting the woman at the front desk with a frantic look. "My brother, he was in Gettysberg, they said he'd be here-I need to-I need-" Most of it is exaggerated for the purpose of getting to Cas, but the rest of him knows his performance isn't up to good acting. His mind is coming up with all sorts of horrible scenarios, not the least of which is Cas's untimely death at the hands of the warring angels desperate to reclaim Heaven for themselves. Cas has tried repeatedly to warn him of this, he remembers that now... and Dean didn't listen, didn't even care beyond-fuck it all, but retrospection is a bitch.

The woman holds up a hand and smiles calmly at him.

"What is his name, sir?"

"Jimmy Novak. They said-"

The woman's face flickers with recognition, and she bobs her head quickly, pointing at the elevator. "Oh, him!" The bizarre celebrity status of Castiel's 'miraculous survival' at the heart of the so-called meteor impact sends a sharp stab of worry into him. Well, it's either that or Jimmy's outstanding alleged murder case, and wow, Dean had forgotten the poor bastard took the blame for that mess with the demons in Pontiac two years ago. It won't be easy smuggling him out of here, because if it isn't the staff, it's the FBI. They'll be crawling all over Cas soon enough, and Dean doesn't feel up to busting an angel out of prison.

"Yes, his wife and daughter just arrived," the woman says. "Head up to ICU, it's on the fourth floor."

He doesn't wait to say thanks, making an only half-acted mad dash for the elevators. The cab plays what someone had once declared soothing music while he watches the numbers go upward in a slow and painful manner, and Dean quickly decides right then and there that this must be the same kind of music played in Hell, in sections even worse than the one he'd visited. By the time the door opens again, Dean's ready to rip out his own hair, but refrains and instead approaches another desk and ask for more directions. Another woman points him towards room 409, and it's there, with a police officer guarding the doorway and in a large room with six beds separated by flimsy blue curtains, that Dean finds Amelia and Claire sitting in ugly orange plastic chairs, staring at Cas's-at Jimmy's-face, Amelia holding tightly to her husband's hand.

At the sound of Dean's approach, both of them turn around. Claire is wide-eyed.

Amelia marches up to him with a furious, wet glare, jabbing a finger at his face. "You! What happened? Why is he-"

Dean quickly shushes her, looking around at the other patients, but they're all either sleeping or comatose. He shuts the door behind him, ignoring the protect from the police officer, and holds up his hands at the two women. "I don't know what's going on any more than you do. Last I saw Cas, he said he was losing the war in Heaven."

"War...? What do you mean, war? That doesn't even-"

Dean shakes his head, impatient. He looks at Cas's-no, Jimmy's frail body, bruised and pale against the off-white sheets, and he grimaces. Cas is dressed in a hideous flora blue hospital gown, an IV stuck into one arm and pumping what looks like a sedative into his body. "We don't have time for this," Dean says. "He's an easy target here. We need to move him quickly before someone-"

"Ah. I'm a little late to the party, I see."

Dean spins on his heel and pulls Uriel's sword from his back.

Balthazar distances himself, his eyes widening a fraction when he sees the blade. "Where did you get that? Morals don't usually-ah, yes. Sword of Michael. Naturally."

Dean is confused for a moment. Sam had used them too; they had both Anna's and Uriel's swords between them, and Cas had more that he carried with him, taken from other angels that he'd personally slain. "This isn't-" But then Dean shakes his head, and slides in front of Amelia and Claire. The younger girl is pale, clutching her father's slack hand with her eyes downcast, as if in prayer. He wants to tell her that it won't help-it never does, and God certainly doesn't give a damn-but Cas had always answered, hadn't he? Maybe he'd answer Jimmy's daughter, too.

Balthazar takes that tiny shred of hope and sneers at it with disgust. "We are a sad bunch, aren't we?" His eyes land on Castiel's comatose body, and then Dean sees something linger there-something that looks suspiciously like worry, maybe even grief. "I must admit, it isn't looking very good," the angel says quietly.

Dean glares at him and gestures with the sword. "What the hell do you want?"

"To help."

"Bullshit," he scoffs. "Was that you helping when you put the idea of killing Bobby in Sam's head?"

"That's different. That was your soulless abomination of a brother. This is Castiel."

And somehow, the look in his eyes tells Dean everything he needs to know, even if he is furious about Sam. Everything between Balthazar and Cas screams history in some form or another, and it's out of respect to Cas that Dean doesn't spear the arrogant prick in the gut with Uriel's sword. "It's not fucking different. You think you'd win brownie points from Cas for trying to ruin my brother? Newsflash: it doesn't work that way."

Balthazar rolls his eyes, and the way he does it reminds Dean of Gabriel, which only serves to enhance the hatred even more. "Newsflash: your brother is already ruined." The angel mock-frowns, and pretends to ponder it, one finger tapping at his chin. "I wonder how long a year and three months is in Hell?"

The truth of it rips him to the core, and Dean takes a step forward to vent this knowledge on Balthazar's corpse, Cas be damned. But Amelia seizes his arm and tugs him back again. She stands in front of Dean, glaring at the angel is if she could destroy him by will-power alone.

"Hold it! Who are you? Do you know what's wrong with my husband?"

Surprisingly, Balthazar frowns at her, and it's genuinely concerned this time. "Yes," he says, and glances at Claire, who still silent and clutching at her father's hand. "But the little one should leave the room, because it isn't pleasant."

Claire looks at him, at her mother, and then back at her father's gaunt face. She shakes her head, stiffening her little body into a wall of determination.

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it to all of us," Amelia grits. She grasps her daughters hand, and Dean stands at her other side, firming himself back into a defensive position between them and Balthazar. Not that Balthazar seems interested in harming the girls, but Dean wouldn't trust him as far as he could fucking throw him, which isn't very far at all.

"My name is Balthazar," the angel tells Amelia. "Castiel and I are brothers in arms. I care for him very deeply, and-"

Dean growls at him. "Get to the point."

"If you would stop interrupting," Balthazar sighs, looking put-upon. "I don't suppose you remember Cas going mortal last year?"

Amelia and Claire both look startled, but Dean just nods grimly. "Your point?"

"Vessels aren't meant to contain two mortal souls," Balthazar says, and he glances briefly over at Castiel again with another sharp frown. "It's supposed to be an angel and a mortal. The angel suppresses the mortal soul, putting it to sleep. That's the way it works. But when an angel goes mortal too, things get complicated. The angel no longer has the power to suppress the mortal soul, or keep it separated from their own consciousness. The body can no longer contain them both safely. So there was this theory going around that he and Jimmy Novak..."

Amelia is pale, clutching Claire's hand a bit too tightly. The little girl winces and asks in a hesitant voice, "What happened to Dad?"

Balthazar gives them his back, glancing at the other patients with an odd slump to his shoulders. "There was a rumor that he and Jimmy... fused together. Became one."

"What?" Dean can't take this lightly, because if it's true, then it's all his damn fault, and he's tired of being goddamn guilty. "That's impossible! That's-"

"Bit nuts, yes," Balathazar says, and turns back again to nod at the star of the hour passed out on the hospital bed. "But it worked for Raphael, didn't it? Must be a ring of truth in there somewhere if he's-"

Amelia is furious. "What did that son of a bitch do to my husband?" Dean and Claire both look at her in shock, but the woman isn't deterred. She steps closer to Balthazar, fists balled, and growls, "What's going on?"

The angel holds up his hands. "Look, I only know what I hear through the grape vine, yeah? Word is, Raphael figured he couldn't take Cas one on one-not with our Father playing favorites, or the Winchester's interferences-so he went through that Jimmy fellow. Raphael called in some favors, pulled a few strings, and..." Again, Balthazar is hesitant, and his mouth grimaces like it's got a bad taste in his mouth.

Time is running out, and Dean's surprised they haven't already been interrupted by staff, police, or worse. "Spit it out, we don't have time for-"

"He cast Jimmy into Hell."

All three of them don't know how to react to that. Dean stumbles backward, as if dealt a blow, and Amelia's eyes begin to glisten with tears. Eerily, Jimmy's daughter Claire doesn't seem to react at all. She just stands there and stares at Balthazar as if he'd spoken Pig Latin.

"I'm sorry," the angel says, and he still sounds genuine. "I think the theory was if they cast Jimmy out, Cas would be pulled down with him due to their prior connection. And it seems like that's what happened. Neither of them are in that body, not quite."

It's Claire that speaks up, after a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Cas is still tied to the vessel. I can sense a resonance of him, but not Jimmy Novak. It's like... it's like a string. As if he'd secured a piece of his grace to the vessel, before he descended."

"Why would he do that?"

It's Dean who asks the question, but he already knows the answer. Balthazar shrugs, and flicks a wrist at the hunter's obvious stupidity. "Why else? To find his way back home, of course."

The angel finally crosses the room towards them again, ignoring Dean's threatening wave of the sword in his hand. They both know he won't use it, not if Balthazar plans on helping Cas and Jimmy, and it sounds like he does. Dean has no choice but to go with it; he's out of options, and it's Cas.

When he approaches the bed, Balthazar gently brushes Jimmy Novak's bangs, and bends to kiss the absent man's forehead. Kissing the last remnants of Cas.

Dean has to look away, a little disturbed, but Amelia does not. Tears are now streaming down her face with absent fury, and she's obviously restraining herself from pulling Balthazar away from her husband with great difficulty. "So what now? How do we get them back?"

"Follow the yellow brick road, perhaps?"

Without warning, Balthazar dives his hand into Jimmy's body the same way Cas had done at least three times this year, feeling for the mortal souls they contained.

Dean waits for the screaming to start. It never comes.