Chapter 2 Cars, Motel Rooms and Pie
Warning: Talk of the supernatural, death, heaven and hell, angels and demons. Language. Spoilers from all season and up to 4-10. AU, No Ana, but things taken from those shows.
Thanks to Muddie for beta and I have added a bit here and there, so if you see a nit, pm me, and I'll fix it.
A/N: ended up breaking this up into 2 chappies.



It was November 2nd and already starting to flurry! I know what the date meant to them both and I know they had a good reason to be in the shape they were in, especially Dean. It was the day that they had lost their mother, the day that their world shattered. It was also that day the innocent, loving boy I had met in heaven ceased to exist. It was the day that the beautiful, angelic Sam got his first taste of true evil.

Life as the Winchester's had known it came to a screeching halt. John lost the love of his life, Dean lost the only woman he's ever really loved and two little boys lost their chance at the American dream.

I looked up and watched the flurries flutter to the ground as we walked to Dean's car. I slipped on a patch of ice and before I could hit the ground, Dean had me in his arms. Our eyes locked and my breath caught for a moment before he let me go and grumbled something about me being more careful.

Mortified, I swallowed and shivered. I wasn't cold until I felt the heat of Dean's hand on my skin. It burned me, branded me as sure as Castiel's had done. Now all I wanted was to feel his touch again, even a brush of fingers, anything. My body cried out for it, my soul yearned for it. Instead, we all stood, freezing, as we waited to see who would drive.

"Dean, give her the keys." Sam implored tiredly.

Dean just sneered at me before he sighed hugely and finally handed them over. I kept my smile to myself as I got behind the wheel where Dean had spent an exorbitant amount of time both before hell and after.

The soft leather creaked and the doors squeaked but the engine purred as soon as I turned the key. It'd been a while since I had driven a vintage car. My father had owned one and the memory was sharp and painful. I missed my parents, missed my old life but I was dead to them. No way to go back and explain where I had been and how I was back. I still had a hard time wrapping my brain around it and I lived it.

I had lost everything that I had ever known for a man I had never met. A man that, obviously, wanted no parts of me. I should have stayed dead, stayed in heaven, even if I did end up wandering.

I glanced over at the man beside me and shook my head. No, I could never let him suffer like he has for the rest of eternity. I needed to save him, for me and for him. Both of our souls were on the line.

With a painful breath, I put the car in reverse and eased her from her parking spot and onto the road, nice and slow. I knew if I hurt Dean's baby, he'd never forgive me.

The hotel we were staying in was only about a six minute drive and Dean sat, stiff and alert in the seat beside me the whole time. Sam sat in the back, his head to the side as he watched the night pass by.

I parked next to my car, a 2009 Dodge Challenger in Brilliant Black Crystal Pearlcoat. As soon as I shut down the Impala, I handed the keys back to Dean who pocketed them with a relieved look. I smiled at him and I really wanted to touch him, but I held back. We're not ready for that... he's not ready for it yet.

"I'd never hurt your car, Dean. I know how much she means to you." And I did. I remember that little boy, showing off his matchbox car. I could see it in his eyes, he couldn't wait to get old enough to drive his Dad's cool car. Now he had it, and nothing else of the man he loved.

Dean's car had been the one constant in his life. The one thing that had always been there. His car represented home to him. A sanctuary.

I turned and looked over his shoulder, "How do you like mine?" I ask Sam with a grin. I loved my car. Sure, she was new and didn't hold the memories that the Impala did, but she was pretty. A thing of beauty as far as I was concerned. Different make, different model, slightly different color, but I loved her just the same. What was even nicer, she was funded from the man up above.

Dean got out of the Impala and shrugged, muttering something about it being 'nice'. I snorted and grinned at Sam. I could tell he liked it but would never admit it, especially standing beside his baby. He didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Sam snorted, "It's more than nice, Dean. Look at it, it's loaded and wow, it even has a CD player. Imagine that?" The sarcasm was so thick in Sam's voice that it actually dripped in the air.

Dean frowned, seriously offended, and petted his car for a moment, "Shh, Sammy, she'll hear you."

Laughing I needled Dean more, "Yep, CD, DVD, iPod. You name it, she's got it."

"Computers fuck everything up." Dean growled and I just shook my head. There was no changing his mind. That's fine... Dean was Dean and I wasn't there to change him, only save him.

Save him from himself.

That's what John and Castiel said. Uriel said that there was no hope for the boy and he should go back in the pit where he clearly belonged. I'm still not sure I liked Uriel all that much. He is pretty bitter and pissed off for an angel that is supposed to be almost emotionless. His views are kind of skewed and he lived to smite people. I guess that there is a use for that kind of thing, but God didn't want Dean smitted, at least that's what Castiel claimed.

I looked at Dean, really looked. He was tired, I could see the small lines around his eyes. Lines that shouldn't be there on someone a few months shy of their 30th birthday, but they were there just the same. He has had a hard life, an almost impossible one the last few years and I think he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. To fade away to where there is nothing and no one. No one needing his help, needing saved. No one needing his protection. He didn't want to go back to hell, he didn't belong there, but he felt he didn't belong in heaven either. Of course the fact that he doesn't really believe in it makes that one even stickier.

How was I to convince a man that had just spent the last forty years burning in hell that heaven wanted him fighting on their side? Where would I even begin?

"Yeah, sometimes." I said quietly. I looked at the two cars we stood between. It's kind of symbolic, really. The old ways meeting new. "I like the look of the old school, but I love the plush and the gas mileage of the new. How many miles per gallon does that beast get?" I asked, kicking one of the Impala's wheels.

Dean scowled hard at me and I just laughed. "Right, this way then."

I unlocked my motel room and stood back as both half drunken men pulled their guns and did a sweep of the room. To be fair, Dean had sobered up quickly and seemed fully lucid and alert. He must have one hell of a metabolism. Still, they both reeked of alcohol.

My room was fully equipped, so I told them to sit as I checked the fridge for some grub. There wasn't much, I never knew when and for how long I was going to be there.

I looked around the room and my eyes fell to the one king sized bed. It was where I woke up, this very room was where I started living again. I had become attached to his crappy interior and shitty little cook top. It had, some how, become my home base.

I had money, stuff I had managed to put away before I died for reason's that made no sense at the time and some that I managed to squeeze out of Castiel. After hours of discussion about sins, I finally had him convinced that it wasn't practical to do God's work, all the while steeling and committing credit card fraud. The next day, when I checked my bank account, I almost choked, but what really got me, what rocked my core and made it all real was, the account was in both mine and Dean's name. And there was not a penny for Sam.

Clearly, the lines had been draw. Sam would have to do it the hard way, with no help from the man upstairs. That shocked and disturbed me. I had been raised to believe that God never gave up on anyone, that he was there for you when you finally saw the light, but it seemed to me that God or the angles or heaven itself had turned its back on Sam. That broke my heart because I could still picture that small, angelic little baby that cooed and smiled up at his brother like he was the light of the world. Maybe he was, but right now, hope and joy, love and happiness were dulled and blurred while pain and hate, anger and vengeance were sharp and real.

What I had done next went against heavens wishes and it could very well come back to bit me in the ass, but I was doing it for Dean and that sweet angel faced little boy. I opened an account in Sam's name and deposited a hefty sum in it. Dean was secondary and would be able to withdraw the monies if he ever felt the need, but I knew he wouldn't. No mater what Sam did, Dean would never take away from him.

I felt my heart squeeze and wondered, if not for the first time, if I wasn't fucking this all up. I knew that Castiel had to know what I did, but he never said a word, and for that, I was grateful.

Shaking my head to bring it back to the now, I snagged some soda, which Dean bitched about, grumbling about wanting another beer. I had a few, but he wasn't gonna get any. He needed a clear head for what I was about to drop in his lap and by his halfhearted protests, I think he knew it too.

I reheated some pasta and chicken I had left over, and grabbed some bread and butter. I put it all in the middle of the table and chuckled when Dean helped himself. Sam smiled gently and said thanks, which prompted Dean to say it, with a mouth full of bread.

It was shocking, seeing how kind and tenderhearted Sam was when I knew the truth of what he was destined to be. I hoped that maybe he could beat it, if he fought with every breath he took for the rest of his life, but I wasn't very optimistic.

The kind of darkness that wanted him wouldn't give up. That kind of evil was like an oil slick that kept growing and spreading over your soul until it consumed you. With every kill he made, every demon he exorcised with his mind, he was brought one step closer to the darkness.

We all ate quietly, and then I blinked to find both men looking at me and blushed. Dean looked skeptical once again and ready to fight if need be while Sam looked uncomfortable and ... shy?

I cleared my throat, looked at Dean, found his eyes and the strength I need to start telling my tale. "I guess you have some questions."

He snorted, looked pointedly at my arm where my scar was and replied, "Yeah, you could say that."

Sam jerked his chin, "Did Castiel give you that too?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"What did you do, to get thrown in the pit?" Dean asked me, his green eyes full of speculation and condemnation.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath. This was the hard part, reliving it all over again. Telling my story to two men I hardly knew, but they needed to know. Dean needed to know, but it was a risk telling Sam. I also knew that if I made Sam leave though, Dean would go also.

I pushed my plate away, stood and grabbed the lemon meringue pie I had bought earlier and put on some coffee. The whole time I felt their eyes on me and heard them whispering back in forth to each other. I didn't bother to listen to what they were saying, I already knew.

I somehow knew about everything Dean had been through, and that's what had disturbed me the most. All the evil that they had destroyed, all the blood they had spilled to save lives and what did it get them? It got Dean sent to hell and it had the worse of the worst hot on Sam's trial to either kill him or worship him. The thought was sickening. Sam didn't deserve this. That sweet baby that looked up at his brother with nothing but love and innocence didn't deserve the shadows that danced in his eyes.

Dean didn't trust me, didn't really like me but Sam was till a bit more open. He was interesting in finding out what my story was, how I had come to be saved like Dean had been by Castiel. His inquisitive mind would never rest until he knew the answers, whether Dean or I cared to share them.

I dished out the pie, giving each one of the boys a huge piece and poured coffee for them as my tea brewed. Black for Dean, sugar and creamer for Sam, honey and cream for me. Then, there was nothing left to do or fuss about, no way I could avoid their questions any longer. I grabbed my journal and sat back down at the table.

My journal was a black leather bound book about nine inches long and seven wide and kind of beat up. There were quite a few pages in it filled with my hand writing, some with clippings about me and one of them was my obituary. It was in the room when I woke and I can only assume that Castiel had something to do with that also.

With one last long look at Dean, I opened my book, cleared my throat and started reading...