Chapter 3. A Keeper's Vow

Saturday morning brought its typical hustle and bustle. It was March, not a particularly lucrative time of year. Dean had sold $117 on in-store sales and $3,743 over the phone in weapons sales. Dean's shop brought more money in than the bookstore, electronics and thrift shop combined. It was the nature of what he sold downstairs and his excellent availability of anything you could want on a hunt. He used a third party purveyor he met once a month in Iowa, Bela, and she kept him stocked better than anyone in the country. She was a Watcher and knew Dean from his days as a Hunter.

They were scheduled to meet in four days, and Dean was already counting on what was in her shipment. And Sam was waiting on several ingredients from her as well.

Being a Keeper, a good Keeper, actually kept the brothers on their toes a lot more than they had ever thought it would.

Jo walked into the store, leaning onto the counter, watching a group of teens at the record bins. "Need me tonight?"

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me about whoever it is you guys have squirreled away in the apartment?"

Dean smirked. Jo was too young to have the responsibilities and movements of a Keeper, but in every other sense of the word, she was one.

"Don't give me that cocky grin, Winchester, that doesn't work on me."

"When Bobby says to tell you, Jo, I'll tell you. Otherwise, no dice."

She looked at him fully, eyes mirthful. "I heard you got super protective of whoever is up there and you got mouthy with Bobby."

"And you heard that where?" Dean said, his humor dissipating.

"Kubrick."

Dean leaned forward, locking onto her light brown eyes, "Jo, Kubrick is a fucking nut. You keep your distance from him."

She frowned softly. "I know. But did you really fight with Bobby?"

"Not really." Dean's eyes drifted over to the group of teens now looking at CD's. "Bobby and I are fine. Kubrick was the one fuckin' shit up."

Jo nodded slightly, looking relieved. "So, when do you want me in?"

"Might as well stay," Dean sighed, grabbing his keys from under the counter.

Jo sat on the stool next to him. She was so young, Dean thought suddenly. Yet, they expected everything from her.

"I promise I will tell you about him as soon as I can," Dean said.

Jo cocked her head in surprise, "Him? I thought it was a chick from the way Kubrick talked."

"Well, he's definitely a he."

Dean headed up to his apartment to grab some clothes and a movie. He was anxious to get back to the apartment. He trotted down the steps, across the alley, and up the steps to apartment C.

He opened the door to Sam and Bobby sitting at the table.

"Hey," he tossed their way.

"Dean!" Sam jumped up, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine..." Dean answered, seeing the suspicious looks on their faces.

"Shaky? Sweaty? Any fever or nausea?"

"No, Doc Hollywood."

"Did you have trouble concentrating?" Bobby asked.

"No. But I am having trouble taking you seriously. Would you two chill already?"

"Yeah, well, we're gonna need some blood before we can 'chill'." Bobby held out a knife and a small silver bowl.

"Seriously? Of course you're serious," he muttered. He sat his bag down and stepped up to the table. "I take it you two found nothing then."

"No," Sam agreed. "This will rule out any potions and several types of hexes though."

"Wonderful," Dean muttered, cutting into the palm of his hand and letting the blood pool in the small bowl.

Sam whisked the bowl away and dropped something purple into it. Grey smoke rose from it. He added a small vile of blood. Nothing.

"Whose blood is that?" Dean asked, an uncomfortable knot forming in his gut.

"Castiel's," Sam said off-handed.

Dean grit his teeth. "You cut him or just reopen some stitches and bleed him out?"

Sam turned two startled brown eyes on him. "What? No! I mean...I asked him and he let me take some blood."

Dean nodded, disgusted. "And your diagnosis?"

"A big squat of nothin'," Bobby said testily. "No hexes, spells, potions, relics. I guess you just have a thing for the guy."

"I don't have a thing! You two are a pain in the ass, ya know that?" Dean pressed a paper towel to the new cut on his hand. "I'm glad you checked, but really all I did was stop Kubrick from being a douchebag. It's not the first time I've done that either."

"You're right," Sam said, cleaning up the blood experiments. "We just saw...well, you looked at him not like you usually look at people, let alone strangers."

"Well, damn. Guess I really just am an asshole."

"Dean," Sam assured, "we just got worried. We don't know the guy and he is an Angel."

Dean pulled out a chair and joined them at the table. "And what exactly do we know about Angels?"

"They are all about bloodlines. They have to have blood from one of four families to be an actual Angel. They're born inta the gang. Given angel names and I ain't never heard of one leaving," Bobby lectured. "They spend most of their efforts fighting demons and they use corporate businesses to fund their little side business."

"So, sorta like us."

"Except they let Clouds get ganked by monsters, cause that's so below them, and they kill Hunters who get in their way. It's not the same, Dean."

Dean made a face, nodding. "Fine. So is it really that hard to believe that one wants to leave and runs?"

Sam and Bobby exchange a guilty shrug. "Suppose not," Bobby sighs.

"So, let me handle the guy. He really does seem like he's on the level. And I'm not letting Kubrick be the one to dig. I can dig."

"Fine," Bobby relented.

"Did you find out anything more today?" Dean asked, hoping they had not messed with Cas too much.

"No. He hasn't said a word all day," Sam admitted.

"Nothing?" Dean asked. He had been easy enough to talk to yesterday.

"Nothing. He only seems to talk to you," Bobby said with annoyance.

"Huh," Dean frowned. "Well, I guess I will go back here and talk to Little Miss Shy. Did he eat okay?"

"He wouldn't eat," Sam added. "He did drink, but only water."

So the guy was very paranoid. Could ya blame him? "Have Ellen send over burgers and fries, would ya?" Dean asked Sam as he headed down the short hall and into the open bedroom.

Castiel lay sleeping on the bed. His color looked better. A band-aid lay stuck to his inner elbow and Dean really wished they had not had to prod the guy any further. The two deep scratches on his forearm were red and inflamed, but healing. His hair stuck up in errant points and waves and his chest rose and fell calmly. He was curled to the side slightly, favoring his wound somewhat.

Dean sat on the side of the bed, watching him with interest. A smile spread across his face when Castiel's eyes slowly blinked open. Seeing Dean, he wiggled down into the covers a bit more and covered a grin with the blankets. Dean knew he was grinning by the crinkles next to his eyes.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said softly, rubbing his hand up and down Castiel's upper arm. "Heard you were a difficult patient today."

The grin disappeared and a worried arch settled across the bridge of his eyebrows and forehead.

He shook his head no. "I was not difficult."

"They said you wouldn't eat."

Cas lowered the blanket and glanced away guiltily.

"Or talk."

His mouth opened and closed, but he said nothing.

"And you would only drink water?" Dean pressed. "You must think we're monsters here."

Castiel bit his lip, his eyes nervously connecting with Dean's. "I don't know them."

"But you know me?" Dean asked, his own hand squeezing softly then pulling away.

"I do," Castiel all but whispered.

Dean nodded with a sad smile. "I get it, man. But Sam? And Bobby? You can trust them. You need to. Your making yourself look more guilty by not talking."

Castiel thought a moment and cleared his throat. "Okay."

"So, if I have Bobby come in here, you'll talk to him?"

Castiel looked away. "Only if you stay."

"I'm here for the rest of the night. Let's get this over with."

Castiel nodded and Dean went back to the living room. "Castiel will see you now," Dean grinned.

"What?" Bobby hopped up, shaking his head. "That took like .2 seconds!"

"Hey, what can I say. I'm awesome!"

Bobby rolled his eyes and followed him back to the bedroom.

Castiel was propped up a bit in the bed and watched the pair like a cat watches a pair of dogs.

"So Bobby, what do you want to know?" Dean asked, jumping to it.

Bobby perched on the edge of the chair. Dean leaned against the empty dresser.

"I'm Bobby. And Dean is closest thing I ever had to having a son. So...you can see why I'm a bit over protective when an Angel drops in and takes a liking to him."

"Geez," Dean moaned, massaging his forehead.

"I did not 'drop in here'," Castiel air quoted. "I was brought here when Lee accidentally shot me. I do not know why he brought me wherever 'here' is, you would have to ask him."

"Where are you from?" Bobby pressed.

Castiel's mouth opened, but he looked at Dean first. "I will not talk about the location of Angel headquarters. Nor will I give you any names."

Bobby squinted hard. "Why?"

Castiel breathed a deep breath and pulled his knees up, feet pressed flat into the mattress. "They do good works, my brothers and sisters. They accomplish a lot that most of the world knows nothing about. I do not wish them harm. I just...can no longer be one of them."

"What made you leave, Cas?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked at his hands for a long moment. "Several reasons."

After waiting longer, Dean rolled his eyes with impatience. "Such as?"

Castiel's eyes caught his in a pull. It was almost strong enough to pull Dean back to the bed, but Bobby was there and...no.

"They see everything in black and white. It is save or slay. No in between. And some times bystanders need to be saved. Even some monsters," he finished weakly. Dean thought back to pulling the trigger on the chick Sam had fallen for in one night. She may have been a werewolf, but damnit she was good people. Had he only known more, they could have helped her instead of pulling that damn trigger. As Dean's eyes dropped, he could have sworn he had just admitted that story to Castiel. And Dean felt sure Castiel just shared a similar story with him. Both glanced guiltily away.

"Is it true you all have Angel names?" Bobby asked.

"Yes."

"You're all born from the four founding Angel families?"

"Yes. A practice I do not condone."

"Corporate cover and funding?"

Castiel glanced away but nodded.

"Explain the tattoos."

"Every member has one. The higher the rank, the larger the tattoo. Highest ranking members are archangels."

"Angel of Thursday ain't no wallflower," Bobby leaned in, "and your tattoo is pretty damn big, boy."

Castiel glanced nervously at Dean, then focused back on Bobby. "You are correct. I was a second rank, second only to the archangels themselves, meaning I led my own hunts and I led my own battalion. We are born into our stations, slated since birth. Our DNA is manipulated to the best of their abilities to create strong, viral, mostly male, Angels. They have begun creating the next generation. They own every bit of us from conception til death." He said bitterly, eyes hard and far away. He looked back to the window and worry again softened his brow. "They will never stop hunting me. It is what concerns me most. I fear they will find me here and bring the wrath of the Angels down on you."

Dean exchanged a look with Bobby. Yeah, that could be a problem. Like a really big problem.

"How long you been out?" Bobby asked.

"Four months."

Bobby sat back deep in thought. Dean knew the man was pondering the likelihood of an attack or the chances of being discovered.

"I'll be back to see you tomorrow," Bobby said, walking out of the room and the apartment. Castiel followed him with his eyes and then they slid shut, a look of defeat on his face.

"Dean, you should get rid of me. Take me away from here before I ruin anything!"

Dean took his seat on the bed. "We can hide you, Cas. No one is going to find you here. And if they would, we can protect you. Or run if we have to."

A look of pain settled onto his face.

"Cas," Dean assured, taking his hand in his own. "We can protect you."

Castiel looked as though he might cry or bolt. Dean sucked in a breath of surprise when the man lurched forward and wrapped his arms around him. Dean instinctively held him tight.

"I'm sorry to have brought the burden of myself here!"

"You're not a burden. We do this sort of thing all the time," Dean assured. His hand slid up, flexing and rubbing through the messy, silky hair. "I got you."

"Huhmm," Sam cleared his throat from the doorway.

The pair sprung apart, Dean standing up feeling ten kinds of guilty and awkward.

"Brought your dinner," he announced with a blush.

Dean grabbed the bag and drinks from Sam.

"Should I have brought candles and music too?" Sam chuckled.

"Shut up," Dean clipped. He knew that innocent moment must have looked hella-gay, but what could he do now?

Dean sat the drinks on the nightstand and caught the blush on Castiel's face.

"Cas, this is Sam. He's my brother. You can trust him. More than anyone else here."

Sam waved and shoved his hands in his pockets with a playful grin teasing his mouth.

"Hello Sam," Castiel nodded.

"He does speak!" Sam laughed. "Good ta meet ya, Castiel."

Cas pressed his lips in a flat line, tucking his chin with that bashful look that made Dean want go 'awww!'

"I gotta close up shop. Got a big order in tonight for you too, Dean."

Dean nodded. "Can it wait til morning?"

"Yeah. Pick up is Monday."

"Have a nice evening," Sam grinned more than necessary.

"Night, Sammy."

"Goodnight, Sam."

The pair exchanged a nervous glance, both exhaling when they heard the apartment door close.

"Hungry?" Dean asked, rifling through the bag.

"I'm very hungry," Cas admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah," Dean grinned, handing him a box, "guess that happens when you refuse food all day. Paranoid much?"

"Yes, very," Castiel agreed, missing the humor Dean had intended.

Castiel bit into the burger and groaned with eyes closed.

"Need me to leave you two alone?" Dean laughed.

"No, please stay," Castiel said around a mouth full of food.

Dean laughed, biting into his own burger. Okay, so maybe he had a thing for this guy. He mulled the thought as he mulled his food in this mouth. He had never had 'a thing' for a guy before. Okay, maybe there was a moment with the guy with the Gollum. And that guy in Arizona when he was in high school. It had been years since he gave that thought the light of day. He took another bite, skating a glance past Castiel. Yeah, he had hooked up with that guy in Arizona. They had jacked each other off in the bathroom at a party where he knew almost no one and knew he wouldn't be there long. Only Sam knew about that. Being drunk and sharing close quarters with Sam for years had a way of making you share more than you ever thought you would. Sam had admitted he had thought he was gay until he met Jess. Then he decided he must be bi. He had told Dean he was bi too, but Dean disagreed. I mean, he was Dean Fucking Winchester. Ladies man.

"What are you thinking about?" Castiel asked, shattering his train of thought and making him blush profusely as if he had been caught in that bathroom. Suddenly Cas was there, in front of him in vivid color, head tilted slightly, brows quirked in question. So. Fucking. Endearing.

"Dean?"

"Yeah! No! I mean...what?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good," Dean nodded, shoving several fries into his mouth.

Castiel followed his fries with his eyes, slowly putting one into his own mouth. His eyes lingered on Dean's lips. Dean licked salt from his lips and watched as Cas did the same. Dean cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the fries in his to-go container. "I need ketchup."

Castiel chuckled. Dean stood up to go to the kitchen, Castiel's chuckle turned into an outright laugh. "Dean-"

"I'll be right back," Dean said, exiting at high speed as if the ketchup would save his life.

He opened the fridge and pulled the bottle from the door and stood there a moment.

"Get your shit together, Winchester."

Back to the bedroom, Dean picked up his container and drink and took the chair at the foot of the bed. He turned it, propping his feet on the bed and flipping the container open again.

Castiel watched him quietly. He plowed through another bite of the burger. Dean took a long drink.

"I rested all day today. I believe tomorrow I will be able to get up. Am I allowed? To be up?"

Dean swallowed, looking him over. "Yeah. You can be up. In here."

"I would like to see Sam's shop."

"Uh...no. I'm afraid you are stuck inside this apartment until I decide, or Bobby decides, you are healthy enough to leave." Probably drugged with a bag over his head so there was no way possible the Angel would know where he had been. Not that he was sharing that tidbit with Castiel. The guy was skittish enough.

"So, what are you going to do when you leave?" Dean asked, trying to rid the silence that stretched between them.

Castiel shrugged. "Hunt."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's workin' for ya."

"You've never been injured in the line of duty?" Castiel asked bitterly, eyes narrowing and showing some of that spunk Dean saw every now and then.

Dean grinned, one cheek over-stuffed with burger. "Been shot...three times. Stabbed several times." He swallowed, sucking a bit of burger from behind a molar. "Smart people don't hunt alone."

"And who do you hunt with?"

"Sam."

Castiel looked at the curtained window next to the bed. "Maybe I will find my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"I have many brothers and sisters. Every Angel is my brother or sister. Being the station I am, I was raised close to..." Castiel stumbled on his words, realizing how much he was talking. He cleared his throat and glanced at Dean. "Yes, I have a brother that I would very much like to find."

"Is he at home?" Dean asked, trying to decipher what little Cas was giving him.

"No. He left over a year ago."

"So...Angels leaving happens more than we thought."

"No."

The finality in the tiny statement spoke volumes. Castiel's look was stormy with conviction, making Dean think twice before speaking. "Is he...did you leave for the same reasons?"

"Yes."

Their eyes were locked again and Dean swallowed hard. "Cas, what made you leave?"

Castiel's eyes darted away, then rested on the remaining fries and partial burger on his lap. A long moment passed but Dean waited without so much as breathing too hard.

"My family is very religious. I began to...question some teachings. I do not agree with all the preachings of the Angels."

Dean stood up, catching those blue, startled eyes with his as he sat facing Cas on the side of the bed.

"What teachings? What preachings? I need some details, Cas."

Cas pressed his mouth into a firm line, pleading with his eyes.

"If you want help from us, we need to know a little more."

Castiel sighed, eyes closing. Dean wanted to give in, let him have his mysterious past, let him tell him on his own time. But that was never going to happen.

"Cas." He waited for the blue eyes to open again. Now they were full of worry and more that Dean could not yet decipher. "Do you know what I am?"

Castiel blinked. His face turned into a curious frown, head tilting slightly. "A Hunter."

Dean cleared his throat. "I was a Hunter. I will be again. But for now, until Sam and I can travel safely again, I'm a Keeper."

"A Keeper," Castiel whispered, leaning forward. "I've heard of Keepers. You supply and support Hunters. And keep...things."

Dean nodded, their eyes locked. "We keep secrets. We keep...anything that needs kept to keep the Clouds safe. We can help you, Cas. If you let us."

Castiel sat back, his mouth in that tight, firm press that made it difficult for Dean to look away from.

"Can you keep me?" Castiel asked in a hushed voice.

A thrill spiraled upwards from Dean's gut, right up his chest and into his head, making him take a deep breath. "Maybe. But I need good reason."

Castiel sat his styrofoam carton aside, licking his dry lips. "My brother was in the process of being banished. He is...homosexual. That is a great sin to my family. They had proof. They were going to strip his rank and...I helped him escape."

Dean twisted his lips in disgust. "THAT'S the big secret?"

"He had been sleeping with a Cloud. Not even a Watcher. It is a very big deal where I come from."

"And that was the only thing he did?" Dean pressed.

"He also often spoke against Angel teachings of bloodlines and unnecessary killing of Hunters, monsters, and the innocent. He rebelled quite frequently."

"And why did you help him?"

Castiel sighed. "Gabriel and I are much alike. In our questions. Our ideals."

"Gabriel? So, this is a top ranking Angel?" Dean was putting the picture together.

"Yes. He was meant to be a leader. But he would frequently just disappear. He hates the entire thing. The Angels. Hunting. All of it."

"And you?"

Castiel pinned him with an intense gaze. "I do not believe in bloodlines. I do not believe that I am better than the rest of the world. My life is no more important than anyone else's. I do not think who I am attracted to should be dictated to me through lineage and elders who sit around and decide for me. Our marriages are arranged. Our families are planned. Our children are branded at birth. It's archaic and self righteous!"

Castiel was getting worked up. He was sweating and getting paler by the second. Dean instinctively reached out and rubbed his arm. "Relax. No one is judging you here."

"But that's not true!" Castiel's eyes darted and he ran his hands back into his hair, making it wild. "You will all judge me for who I was. Where I was born. But I don't want to be an Angel! I don't!"

"Cas," Dean soothed, "breathe."

Castiel leaned back into the pillows, Dean sitting his` forgotten meal on the nightstand and kept the soothing stroking to his arms and hands. "You're out. You don't ever have to go back. Ever." Dean waited until Castiel would make eye contact and got a half-hearted nod from him.

"No one is turning you in. No arranged marriages. No talk of bloodlines or families."

Castiel nodded to each statement and took a deep breath. "They will never stop hunting me."

"Then I will never stop keeping you." The words were out of Dean's mouth with more conviction than he had had since he swore to Sam he would not let him die. But there was no denying the bolt of shock that ran through each man. Dean's at what he had said. Castiel's that Dean meant it.

Dean pulled back, realizing he was gripping the man's hands in his. He dropped them, wiping his palms nervously down his thighs. They were heavy words. A commitment. A vow. And Dean had just...thrown them out there. The baffling part was that, yeah, he meant them.

"Dean," Castiel said in a hushed voice, cheeks flushed now and eyes wide. "I had no right to ask that of you."

"Well, it's done. And I will."

"But why?" Castiel asked with a tremor.

Dean stood up to pace. He sat back in the chair at the foot of the bed, trying for nonchalance. "Tell me. What happens when the top ranking dick squad deems you unfit for Angeldom?"

Castiel gaped a few times. He set his jaw firmer and began to explain. "There are three steps. Gabriel never even made it to the first step. I had warned him before they could reach him and he had disappeared. I did go through the first step. You are brought before the Choir."

"They sing to you?" Dean snorted, stuffing fries into his mouth, trying to lighten the mood.

"The Choir is the top two ranks of Angels. It is held in one of the sacred rooms. They wear robes and stand on tiered platforms with you at the center, kneeling and head bowed."

Castiel had a far away look in his eyes. The ceremony must have been humiliating and it made Dean angry just thinking about it.

"Your name is struck from the book. If you have children or a spouse, which I do not, their names can be struck out as well. One of the ArchAngels reads your list of great sins to the Choir. You are stripped of clothing, rank, and all ties are severed. You are gagged and imprisoned for three days."

"Jesus," Dean huffed. "How did you escape?"

"I had a chance and I took it." A heavy, dark look crossed Castiel's face. "I...killed my guard."

Dean nodded, the hairs on his arms raising with a chill.

"What are the second two steps?"

"Step two is the removal of your wings."

Dean's brow furrowed into a question and Castiel continued.

"Hot oil is prepared and poured over any tattoos."

Dean knew his mouth was hanging open, but...what the actual fuck even?

"The third step is being cast down. When an Angel falls, they are taken to the top of one of the towers and cast down. To your death."

Silence hung in the air as Dean pictured Castiel going through each of these steps. "They throw you off the roof?"

"It's from Lucifer's window on the tenth floor of his tower."

Dean sat back at the flooding images going through his mind. "They're crazy."

"It rarely happens. Gabriel would have been the first to go through the ceremony in over a hundred years."

The men sat in silence for a long while.

"Their efforts will be unrelenting. Dean, you can not put yourself in the middle of this. I won't let you."

"I didn't ask your permission," Dean said flatly, his mind still seeing Castiel being doused in hot oil, skin peeling and screaming. Being thrown out a window and landing in a sickening crunch to the ground. There was no way in Hell he was letting that happen. "Where is Gabriel?"

"I don't know," Castiel answered quietly. "I looked for him. But he is very adept at disappearing."

Dean nodded solemnly. "We need to find him. We can hide you both."

Not able to take the severity of his thoughts or the weight of the mood in the room, Dean gathered his uneaten food and drink and stood up. "Get some rest, Cas. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

He made his way, stiffly to the living room, sitting heavily on the couch and numbly sitting his dinner on the worn out coffee table.

An hour later, Sam came in. Dean had not moved.

"Dude, you alright?" Sam asked, eyeing the food suspiciously.

"Yeah," Dean ground out gruffly. "We need a meeting."

Sam nodded and left. Dean knew where he was going. He'd get Bobby and they would all have to decide what to do about their little Angel problem. If they wouldn't play ball, Dean knew he would have to run. There was no way he would turn over the Angel. He inventoried in his mind how quickly he could get Cas to his car, which was stocked to escape. He had three exit routes mapped out in his head when Sam came back.

"Keeper meet in ten at my shop," Sam said quietly. "Bobby wants to know who to put with Castiel."

"Lee and Krissy. They brought him."

"That's what I was thinking," Sam agreed.

"Go ahead. I'll be there when Lee shows."

Sam nodded and left.

Dean got to his feet quickly and went to the bedroom. Castiel was asleep. He leaned over the sleeping figure, patting his shoulder. "Cas. Wake up."

Castiel's eyes sprang open and he half sat up.

"I'm going to a meeting. A Keeper meeting. I want you to stay awake until I come back. Get your shoes on but hide them. Be ready to run if we need to."

"Dean, no, I couldn't cause trouble among your people-"

Dean gripped the man's shoulder firmly, "Be ready."

Castiel sighed, but flipped the covers back to get the sneakers on and tuck them away again.

Dean heard the apartment door open. "Act like you're sleeping," Dean whispered and Castiel quickly laid still.

Dean pulled the bedroom door shut and pulled his leather jacket on as he went into the living room.

"He's still out cold. Just checked him," Dean said to Lee.

Lee nodded nervously, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, Krissy flopping on the couch.

"No one sees him but me," Dean said firmly.

"Got it," Lee nodded. "And Dean, tell everyone I'm sorry. I woulda never brought him here had I known he was an Angel."

Dean nodded. "It'll be fine, Lee. Shit happens on a hunt. Bobby forgets that sometimes."

Lee smiled sadly at that and Dean left. He did not like leaving Castiel. It was the only thing that still made him wonder if he wasn't hexed or spelled. He hated leaving the Angel's side. It made him sick with worry.

He crossed the alley, the night was rainy and cold. The roads would be slick over some of the passes. He mentally crossed off one of the escape routes in his head.

He wrenched open the back door and went down the basement steps to the research room and library under Sam's shop.

The room was a wide rectangle of a room, all walls lined with wooden shelves that were stuffed full of books, scrolls, and parchments. Six medium size wooden tables sat spaced out through the room, four chairs each, each table holding two lights. It smelled like old paper and mahogany. His own shop's room smelled of gunpowder and cleaning oil. His was modern, tiled and well-lit. This shop looked like nothing had changed since it was built, except for the three computers that sat with dark, sleeping screens on the furthest two tables.

Just inside the door, around the first table, sat all the Keepers. Bobby, Ellen, Sam, Charlie, Ash, Jo, Becky, and Chuck.

Dean pulled an empty chair over and sat down.

"We need to talk about the Angel," Dean said.

Bobby nodded.