A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews and favorites, I appreciate it! If anyone has any suggestions let me know! Off we are with chapter number two…

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing. (Whoops, double negative. Okay, so I own the DVDs…and that's about it). Chapter title taken from a song by Billy Joel.

Much love and enjoy!

Highway to Hell

Chapter Two: Keeping the Faith

Dean sat. Michael slipped into the booth next to him, and the other angel slid in next to Sam. "Dean, Sam, this is Castiel."

Castiel nodded solemnly in acknowledgment of his name.

Dean nodded back.

"Hey," Sam thrust out his hand, which Castiel took very carefully, lifting it up once before quickly dropping it.

Before anyone could say anything else, Sarah was bustling back over with Sam's soup and salad and Dean's cardiac arrest on a plate. "Oh, I didn't know you were expecting someone else! What can I get you boys?"

"Strawberry milkshake," said Michael quickly. "And pie. Please."

"What kind? We have rhubarb, blueberry, and…"

"All three, please."

Dean's eyebrow raised appraisingly. Perhaps he could get to like this angel.

"And for you?" she turned to Castiel.

"Coffee. Please."

"Anything else?"

"No, that will be all." And with that she was dismissed.

"So…uh, about the angel impersonation," Dean started.

"Huh?" Michael turned. "What angel impersonation?"

Sam snorted. "Nice one, Dean. Ow!" He rubbed at his shin, glaring daggers across the table.

"There were just these kids running around with these fake wings…" Dean started. He was interrupted by the bell, once again, ringing. This time revealing the mechanic.

He hustled over to the booth, shifting nervously from one foot to the other when he reached them. "She's as good as knew, sir. I fixed up the tire, and I got you a new spare. Oh, and I changed the oil. And I figured I'd replace the wipers while I was at it…"

"Thanks, man," Dean said, sticking his hand out to shake the kid's.

"Wow," the young man whispered. "I've been touched by an angel!"

"Well, he's no Roma Downing," Sam muttered.

Michael's eyebrows were raised as he glanced from Dean, to the mechanic, and back again. "Angel?"

Dean shrugged as Sam tried not to grin.

"I can see why Uriel wanted to smite them," Castiel murmured, watching as the mechanic nearly skipped off.

Sarah reappeared, and Michael scooped up his fork, stabbing at the pie. "Dis is gud. Tanks," he smiled at Sarah, who smiled back and handed Castiel his coffee, flouncing off.

"Some arch angel you are," Castiel murmured, blowing on the black liquid and taking a sip.

"Yeah, well, this is mankind's best invention yet. Dessert." He took another bite, and swallowed, stabbing his fork in Dean's direction. "Technically, you're as much angel as you are human, so it isn't quite an impersonation. You," he stabbed his fork at Sam, "I don't know what you are." He cleared his throat and then continued. "Just try not to do it in the future. If reports of angels stop popping up everywhere, we're gonna end up in trouble."

"I didn't mean to," muttered Dean.

"I know," Michael reached for the milkshake, popping the cherry in his mouth. "Right, so, back to business."

"You aren't here to kill us?" asked Sam hopefully.

"No…no. If I was, Uriel would have insisted on coming along."

Castiel snorted. "He's going to be ticked off he didn't get to come anyway."

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," Michael shot back.

"He'll find out," Castiel muttered, "He always does."

"So we all think Uriel is a bastard?" inquired Dean.

Castiel fought to keep a grin of his face and Michael sighed. "Uriel can be…difficult at times. This is beside the point. And it has nothing to do with the reason why we are here."

"Okay…" Dean looked at the arch angel expectantly.

"We have a job for you."

"We as in…"

"He has a job. For both of you."

"The Big Guy?"

Dean!

Calm down. Spastic much?

Castiel appeared to be floored. Perhaps angels didn't refer to God as 'the Big Guy.'

"Uh…yeah…at least that's what the grapevine is saying," Michael took another stab at the pie.

Dean, in turn, stabbed a fry in his direction. "So you're sayin' you don't know who the job came from?"

"Dean, why don't we just find out what the job is, first?" Sam's pinched look told Dean that he was tired of playing games and just wanted to get out of here.

Michael cleared his throat and leaned over, snagging one of Dean's fries, causing a muffled protest. "Well, it appears that Azazel…"

"Awhatzel? Is that like schnitzel?"

"Is everything food to you, Dean?"

"Not everything Sam, just the important stuff."

"Azazel is a demon," Castiel clarified. He had the same look on his face that Sam had. Dean had a sinking suspicion that this angel was going to be a big party pooper. "Who I think that you refer to as 'Ole Yellow Eyes.'"

"It has a name?"

"Clearly, Dean, or they wouldn't have just told us that."

"I think it's time for your nap, Sam."

Sam just glared.

"Right," Michael began again. "Gabriel was in charge of watching Azazel, and he reported some disturbing news. Apparently there are more of you." He waved his fork in Sam's general direction.

Dean and Sam both glanced at each other, confused. "There's Sammy clones running around? Is it a bunch of Shifters? And, no offense Sam, but why would they want to be him? I mean…c'mon…wouldn't you rather run around as…I don't know, Brad Pitt?"

"Not more Sams," Castiel clarified, at this point looking more frustrated than Sam did, "More people like Sam."

"Thanks," Michael slurped at the remains of his shake. "Right, kids that were given demon blood at the age of sixth months, and are now running around with crazy demonic powers that they don't know what to do with."

If he wants us to kill them, I'm leaving.

I'll be right behind you, Sam.

"We think that Sam can find them. Raphael was trying, but he's having a hard time…especially since there has been a rise in demonic activity as of late."

"I…can…I can't find…"

"Hold on a second," started Dean, "Even if Sam could somehow find them, which I'm not sure how, what are you going to do when we do find them? Smite them? Send them on a one way trip to the giant fish fry? Just because something happened to them that they couldn't control?"

Michael shifted slightly, and then sighed.

"If it is necessary," Castiel answered for him.

"Castiel," Michael admonished. "I don't think that's the best way to explain things."

"I'm not killing anybody," Dean stood, starting to push past Michael. "Let's go, Sam."

"Sit."

"No."

"Sit," Michael commanded, and Dean sat.

"You know, us humans don't like when we don't get a choice," Dean snapped, trying to wriggle, but unable to move due to Michael's mental hold. "You can let me go, I'm not gonna high-tail it."

"The proposition is this. You can continue hunting as usual. You can continue lying, cheating, and stealing. Yes, you can still hustle pool. But if Sam does happen to be able to find these people, if you do stumble across any of them…you call for Castiel. And then you decide together whether the soul is pure or not. If they can be redeemed.

"You see, with Sam, we just recently realized that the souls may still be pure. But this may just be because of Sam's angelic nature. Power does tend to corrupt the human soul."

"And if they can't be redeemed?" Dean asked quietly.

Castiel grimaced. "Then Uriel gets to step in."

"We don't have to kill anyone?" Sam asked quietly. "Because I can't kill a person. I won't."

Michael turned towards him suddenly. "You may be surprised what you are capable of Sam Winchester. But to answer your question, no, you will not be required to kill anyone." He licked the last of the pie from his fork.

"Good," Dean nodded. "Can we go now?"

"Of course," Michael released the invisible hold, and Dean sagged in his seat.

Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out the car keys, tossing them to his brother. "Go get the car, Sam. I'll be right out. And then we'll try to find a motel that Master Splinter is not inhabiting."

"'Kay, Dean," Sam mumbled just glad to get his aching head away from the angels and back towards the car and possibly sleep.

As soon as Sam was out the door, he rounded on Michael. "What if the demons come after Sam?"

Castiel glanced up from his coffee mug. "Why would you think that they'd do that?"

"Because he's the freakin' Prince of whatever, that's why. I mean, supernatural crap has always been attracted to him…I guess he's just one big homing beacon. And if they think he's supposed to be their heir, or leader, or whatever…well, if I was them, I'd be pretty pissed and try to off him."

Michael shrugged. "We can't foretell the future Dean. Only our Father knows what will happen."

"So it could happen. I just have one question. Even though his soul is pure…can Sammy still fall?"

"Some believe that," Michael said quietly. "Others don't. I think the only important thing is your faith in him Dean. In the end, I believe that your faith in him may be the only thing that matters." And with that, he was gone.

When Dean turned to look, Castiel was gone also.

Sighing, he headed for the diner door and towards the familiar safety of his car. He needed a stiff drink.

*~~*

It hadn't taken much convincing to get Sam to stretch out in the back. The kid was clearly wiped. He'd been half asleep before Dean even made it out to the car, and with a promise that he was going to pull over and catch himself a couple of hours as soon as he found a good spot, Sam had willingly climbed into the back, asleep before they'd even left the parking lot. Dean had once said that the Impala was the only cradle that Sam had ever known or needed. It appeared that he was still right about that.

Dean didn't feel guilty about the lie.

He wasn't pulling over tonight.

He planned on driving as far and as fast as he could from this backwards town.

And those stupid angels. Why couldn't they just leave them alone?

Dean accelerated, pushing the car harder than he should on the wet road. He didn't care. It was getting dark out now, the sun finally disappearing over the horizon line. And with Sam safely ensconced in the back seat, he could be alone with his thoughts.

Dean knew that he should tell Sam about the whole next leader of Hell thing. That when Sam found out that he was going to be royally pissed. Probably even more than he was at their dad for keeping the secret about the demon blood.

But to tell Sam would be to acknowledge the possibility.

To make it real.

Dean didn't want to make it real. So mum was the word.

He should have told the angels to get the hell out of their lives.

As it was, he didn't promise them anything, but couldn't they see the toll this was already taking on Sam? His entire being was at war with itself, the demon and angelic sides each trying to sabotage each other, leaving him exhausted at the end of each day. Sam was good, Dean knew that. But if Sam started to doubt…

My faith in Sam…Did the angels know more than they were letting on? Clearly someone did.

It didn't help that Sam obviously knew that something was wrong.

And Dean had to admit, he could have been a little more subtle. Since when had he not liked hunting?

Sam's suspicions were mounting, but Dean wasn't thrilled about letting the kid on another hunt, despite the fact that he was going to have no choice soon. But he couldn't help flashing back to the sight of his brother plummeting from that catwalk. He'd managed to catch him, and then drop him, but at least he caught him before they fell. Bad things had always been attracted to Sam. Dean had always thought it was because he was so good…but now he wasn't sure. Maybe they were attracted to that darkness in Sam…

"Dean…" Sam murmured from the back, before rolling over and pressing his face into the seat. "Deee…"

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. Sam had been having nightmares since he'd been little, but they were worse lately, vision enhanced things that left him screaming and panting. For now, Sam appeared to be fine, but if it got worse, Dean knew he'd have to pull over.

The rain had started up again, going from one or two harmless drops to a downpour in a matter of two seconds flat. Wide puddles were already growing on the road, the water coming down too fast for the already saturated earth to absorb it.

"Slooww downnn, Deeann," Sam slurred, head tossing again.

That didn't sound like a run-of-the mill nightmare. Unless Dean was whupping Sammy in a race. Which was always a possibility. Since big brothers always won. Even if their little brother's legs were disproportionately long.

Sam calmed again, and so Dean nixed the idea of pulling over, instead trying to make out the blurry road by his wavering headlights. He was distracted as his phone rang, and he scooped it up one-handed, flipping it open with a distracted, "Huh?"

"Where are you boys?" Bobby's tinny voice rang out in the silent car, the only other noise that of the pounding rain and overworked wipers.

"Uhh…" To be honest, Dean wasn't sure. It wasn't like he'd really cared where they were the past couple of weeks.

"I've hardly heard anything from you since you up and left."

"Look, Bobby…it's a long story…"

"Deeeannn, sloowww dowwww…"

Dean's concentration was now split between Bobby, the road, and his moaning brother. Sam's cheeks look flushed, and for a second Dean worried that he was running a fever.

"I don't care if it's a Hundred Years of Solitude, Dean."

"Look, Bobby…"

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again and nearly crapped himself as Sam suddenly sat straight up, screaming. "DEAN! LOOK OUT!"

Dean's eyes flicked towards the front. "Holy Shit!" Dean stomped on the break, intent on stopping before he hit the little girl in the middle of the road.

The car hydroplaned and Dean dropped the phone, gripping the steering wheel hard with both hands and turning, trying to swerve the car out of its current path. Distantly, he could hear Bobby calling his name, and then the car stopped, pointed in the total opposite direction of where it had started and resting on the wrong side of the road.

Dean was panting heavily and he could hear Sam gasping behind him. Bobby was still yelling from the passenger seat. Snatching the phone, Dean just said, "Gotta go," and snapped the phone shut. It rang and vibrated a second later, but Dean just shoved it into his pocket, already reaching for his gun. The child had yet to move.

Glancing again in the mirror, he caught his brother's pale face, noting the fact that Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose and grimacing. "Vision?"

"Yeah," Sam gasped. "Seem to be getting them whenever you're in trouble."

"Nice to know you care."

Sam's phone started ringing this time, but both of them ignored it.

"Is she…" Dean started.

"Dead? I don't know," Sam shrugged. "Maybe she's just in shock…I mean, you did almost run her over." He bent at the waist, reaching his arm under the front bench and removing his sword, strapping it onto his back before leaning forward and snapping open the glove box for his spare handgun.

"Where are you going?"

"Well, if isn't a spirit, she's going to need some help. I don't think there are a lot of six-year-olds running around in the middle of the night without parents, Dean." He paused. "We would have been the exception to that rule."

"We were the exception to every rule," Dean muttered, his pocket vibrating as he reached under the seat for his own sword. "I think Bobby's gonna be pissed…"

Sam shrugged again and opened the door. "At you. You're the one that hung up on him."

"You're the one that nearly caused us to get wrapped around a tree…"

"If you hadn't been going so fast," Sam snapped, already taking long strides towards the girl.

Dean was right on his heels, about to argue, when the girl turned towards them. Her hair had, at one point, been in two golden pigtails, one had fallen out, the other was matted with what appeared to be different leaves and branches. There was blood running from a cut on her forehead, her one eye swollen nearly shut, and her nightgown was torn and stained. The white was soaked and nearly see through, her feet bare and bloody. Sam took another step towards her and she gasped, stepping backwards and tripping over the hem of her nightgown, landing hard in a large puddle on the asphalt.

"No…please…" she whimpered, backpedaling and scrambling for purchase on the wet road.

She was older than they had originally thought, probably closer to ten than six. And she looked rather solid. No flickering or fuzzing out. And she definitely wasn't trying to attack them. "It's okay, sweetie," Dean said gently, stepping in front of his brother.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered, glancing around wide-eyed as Dean knelt down in front of her, Sam following suit.

"Honey, we need to get you off the road so someone doesn't hit you…"

She shook her head, tossing around the remains of her pigtails. "Mommy said I can't go anywhere with strangers…" Tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with the rainwater.

"Well, uh, we're not strangers," Sam supplied.

"You're not?" She looked suspiciously at both of them.

"No, we're not."

Dean shot Sam a look of incredulity, clearly having no idea where Sam was going with any of this.

"Then who are you?"

Sam cleared his throat, knowing full well that Dean was gonna ride his ass later. And he'd deserve after he'd chewed Dean out for the same thing. "We're angels."

Injuries and fear forgotten, the child stood and placed little fists defiantly on her hips. "Then where's your wings?"

Very slowly, Sam released his wings, gently unfurling them. There went another perfectly good shirt.

"Woah…" she whispered, eyes lighting up as she took a full scan of Sam and his attire. "Does this mean I can wear sweat pants in church?"

Dean snorted. Sam was going to set the new church-going style. "Uhh…" Sam looked to Dean for help.

"I think you need to wear what your mommy tells you to wear, sweetheart."

"You're an angel too?"

Dean nodded, releasing his wings, relishing in the feel of the water running down the feathers.

"Cool!" She paused licking her lips. "Can you fly?"

"I'm really good at flying," said Dean.

"And crash landings," mumbled Sam, trying to hide his grin, sobering when Dean shot him a look.

"I was praying that angels would come and save me and Mommy! I was praying super hard…are you here to save my mommy?" Her eyes went wide and filled with tears, sparkling in the Impala's headlights.

You think it's up our alley?

I don't think we can just leave her here, Dean.

Well, no duh.

"Why don't we get you over to the car, sweetie, and dried off," Dean said gently, holding out a hand.

He was nearly knocked off his feet when she flung herself at him full force and he ended up with an armful of ten-year-old. Almost automatically both his arms and wings wrapped around her, hiding her from sight as he stood. For a second, he remembered Sam at the same age, throwing himself at Dean when he walked in battered and bruised from a hunt, and he hugged the little girl closer.

Sam had already taken off for the car, trunk open as he pulled out one of the duffels and riffled through it, snatching up one of his t-shirts and another hoodie.

The clothes weren't for him, instead he handed them to Dean, who in turn handed them to the girl, who in turn told them not to look and slammed the door shut. Leaving them out in the rain.

At this rate we won't have any more dry clothes.

We'll hit a laundromat at the next town we come across, Sam. We were running low on clean clothes anyway.

What did Bobby want?

Dean shrugged and was saved from answering as the little girl opened the door. "Mommy said I always should introduce myself. I'm Anna."

"Well, Anna," Dean smiled, "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"Can I see your cut, Anna?" Sam asked softly. "I think I can make that all better for you."

"Okay," she said, sitting on the edge of the seat. Sam knelt down beside the car and reached out his hand, gently brushing over the right side of her face. When he pulled away the swelling was gone and all that was left was drying blood. "Wow…" Anna whispered.

Sam stood and stumbled slightly, the pressure in his head too much for a second, before he straightened, gripping the roof of the car for support.

Sam…

I'm fine, Dean.

That was debatable, but Dean knew they couldn't afford to argue now. Clearly something bad had happened to Anna, and her mother, and they needed to figure out what. "Anna," he said gently, "Can you tell me what happened to you and your mother?"

"It was the garden gnome," she whispered, eyes darting to scan the darkness behind them. Sam turned, scanning too, as if somehow he could see the creature.

Dean bit his lip. "The garden gnome?" he asked skeptically.

Anna nodded furiously.

Dean…Sam warned, tamping down on the laughter that was growing inside his head.

C'mon on Sam…a garden gnome?

"He had a knife. He tied up my mommy…"

"The garden gnome?"

Dean!

Anna nodded again. "He wasn't mean at first. Mommy found him at a tag sale. He wanted to play with me, and help around the house."

"Help around the house?" asked Sam. "How?"

"He made my bed. And he helped with the dishes."

"When did he become mean?" Sam knelt down again in front of Anna. "Did something happen?"

"Mommy said that I had to stop talking to him. And to not help anymore with the dishes because she didn't want me to get hurt. She didn't think he was real."

Sam nodded seriously. "Did he say he felt insulted?"

"Yeah…I asked him to go away, but he said it was his house and he wouldn't leave."

Sam nodded again. "Okay, sweetie. I need to talk to Dean for a minute, so I'm just gonna close the door. If you're cold there's blankets under the seat, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam softly shut the door and turned towards Dean.

"Seriously Sam?"

Sam nodded.

"Seriously."

"Yes, seriously, Dean."

"If Caleb finds out we'll never live it down," Dean muttered.

"Oh, come on, Dean, how often do you get to hunt killer garden gnomes?"

Dean just glared.

A/N: And we're off to gnome hunt. Hope you enjoyed. All flames will go to helping the boys toast the garden gnome! Please read/review and let me know what you think! As always, feel free to play in this 'verse, just let me know so I can stop by and read it! Much love. :)