Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my property, etc.

Enjoy.

Dean woke with a hazy memory of what had happened. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the room in front of him. He was tied down to a chair in a bare garage. The floor was darkly stained with what Dean could only assume was blood. The garage was dimly lit by a single bulb on the ceiling. Dean looked up and saw his captor through waves of pain racking his head.

"You're a fine catch, my friend," hissed Mallory Sloan.

The vampire was tall and slender, wearing a plain grey shirt and jeans. His eyes were sharp like knives, and his gaunt face seemed almost hollow except for that fact.

Dean grunted as another onslaught of pain hit his skull. He gritted his teeth and looked back up at his captor. "Go to hell, man," he said.

"Actually, I think you'll find that it's you who will be heading there shortly."

"I thought you were going to ransom me or something," said Dean.

The vampire laughed. His laugh was thin, cracked, and spidery, like old fragile glass. "Oh no, my friend. I have...much more ambitious plans than that. You see, I sent your daddy off on a milk run. He's getting me some fresh blood packs even now. And once he comes and tries to trade for you with the blood he's brought me, I'll just take both of you and the blood. I find double-crossing my enemies to be very productive."

"Oh yeah? Is that why your nest threw you out? Because you weren't trustworthy?"

"No, no, they didn't kick me out," said Mallory Sloan, smirking. Dean couldn't imagine what was so funny. The vampire chuckled. "No, I slaughtered my fellow nesters. Those little insignificant runts, could barely hold their own. No, they were only taking up resources."

"So, you're pack leader, huh?" asked Dean.

"I was."

"Good to know," said Dean. He wondered where his knife was. If he could get to it, then he could saw off these ropes and finish this once and for all.

"I took your knife from you, if you're wondering where that is," said Mallory. "I'm not stupid, you know. But then again, how were you to know that, little hunter mine? You've seen plenty of stupid before in your hunting experience. I have no doubt about that. Other so-called 'monsters' do tend to be so unreasonably daft. But you'll find me, I hope, a tad different."

Dean chuckled and spat in the vampire's general direction. "No, we'll gank you just like we've done everything else we've come across."

"You've got heart," said the monster. "But you're the one tied up. I'm in control over your fate."

The door slammed open behind Dean. "Interesting choice of words," rumbled a deep-throated, powerful voice. Dean craned his neck and saw a man with dark hair, wearing a long trench coat and holding some sort of silver knife in his hand.

"Wh-who are you?" Mallory sounded terrified. Dean stared, wide-eyed, as the man walked forward. Mallory seemed frozen to the spot. The stranger reached out and touched the vampire's forehead, and Mallory Sloan dropped to the ground.

"I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord," said the man in the trench coat. He raised a hand, and Dean felt his ropes suddenly loosen.

"No such thing as an angel," said Dean. "What the hell are you?"

Castiel—if that was his real name—frowned. "I...just told you," he said, squinting at Dean like he was stupid or something. "An angel. Look, I don't have time to go through all this again, Dean. Where's Sam?"

Dean blinked. "Sorry, who?" How did this stranger know his name, and why was he talking about...Sam? Did he mean-?

"Your brother," sighed Castiel. "He's not here, is he?"

"No, he died," said Dean. "How do you know all this stuff about me?"

Castiel sheathed his blade inside his coat. "I can show you, but I doubt you trust me enough to let me touch you, after what I did to him." With a tilt of his head he indicated the dead body of the vampire, Mallory Sloan.

"Yeah, no joke," said Dean. He got up, shrugging off the loosened ropes. He patted his pocket, and then he realized the vampire had taken his phone. "Where's my cell phone?" he muttered. He looked around the garage and finally saw it, along with his machete and pistol, lying on a table in the corner. He crossed the room and grabbed his stuff, but when he turned around he raised his gun, pointing it at the "angel."

Castiel chuckled. "You probably think you can hurt me with that, don't you?"

"Silver bullets. It's worth a shot," Dean growled. "Now you're going to sit in that chair over there and tell me everything you know about me."

Castiel sighed. "No," he said. And then, right in front of Dean's eyes, he vanished. Not in some flash of light, he just disappeared with a slight muffled rustling noise.

A hand shot out from behind Dean and pulled the pistol from his hands, tossing it across the room. Dean felt Castiel grab him with superhuman strength and pin him against the wall.

Dean grunted, lashing out at him with his legs. Castiel didn't even bat an eyelash, but raised his other hand and gripped his forehead. "Calm down, Dean. I'm going to show you what's happened."

Dean blinked and then remembered everything. "What the hell?" he grunted. "Cas?"

The angel let him down, and Dean raised a hand to his forehead. "What happened? Where's Sam? How is this possible? And Dad..." Dean blinked again and felt his face stretch into an expression of shock and surprise. "Dad!" he exclaimed. "I've gotta find him, talk to him..." He looked up at Castiel. "Dad must be worried sick."

"Listen, Dean—" Castiel began.

Dean fumbled for his cell phone and flipped it open. He dialed his father.

...

...

...

"Dean? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." Dean felt giddy and light-headed, as if he was tripping on something. "Where are you?"

"Thank God, Dean. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Dean. "I got free and killed the vamp." He looked up at Castiel, nodding and winking. The angel looked less than pleased with that description of events. "Look, Dad, why don't we meet up?"

"All right, we'll meet at your motel," replied John Winchester's voice.

Dean ended the call and looked up at Castiel. "Let's go," he said.

"Dean..."

"What, Cas?" snapped Dean. "Nature is out of balance? We can't go see my dad because we've got better things to do? He's my dad, Cas. I need to see him again."

"It doesn't matter whether you see him or not. You're not going to remember this after we're done. This is an alternate reality. Once we set things back to the way they were, you're not going to remember a thing."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to meet him at the motel. Then and only then we decide what to do next."

"I know exactly what we need to do next," said Castiel. "We have to go back to the night your parents died, and we have to stop Azazel from killing Sam as well as your mother. Raphael will be there as well."

"Well, that's just great. Anything you want to add?"

"Well, I was going to ask if you really want to go back to the way things were."

"With Sam? In a heartbeat. I just gotta see my dad first." Dean shrugged and left, not waiting for Cas to catch up. He went back out onto the street and got into the car. He stared over at the empty passenger seat. "Damn it Sam, I wish you were here," he muttered. He turned the key in the ignition and drove back to the motel. Castiel's question plagued his mind the whole way. He was trading Sam's life for his dad's, but at the same time, it was nice. Not to have to worry about the apocalypse and Raphael and heaven and hell as much as he used to. Plus, a bunch of people had probably been saved by Sam not being around any more.

Dean put in some AC/DC and forgot about that kind of thought for a little while. I'll figure it out later.