Chapter 4: Family Reunion

AN: I hope this next part doesn't come off as two cliché but I like reunions. Plus Dean is meeting someone he has only read about in a supposedly fictional book. (right!) I had to do some rewriting but this is mostly what the original is like. Only an epilogue after this, mostly because I never finished writing this when I wrote it and came back to it years later and forgotten what I was going to do, so no spell work or magic, just the aftermath.

Hope you like

On to the Fic

The long and winding drive from the Roadhouse to Singer's Salvage in Sioux Falls lasted through the night. In an effort to continue their journey without stopping, Finrod and Brego switched driving so one could rest while the other drove. Finrod spent his time behind the wheel contemplating his son. From what little he had been able to pry out of other hunters, after plying them with drinks and gently compelling them to speak their minds; he had learned that Dean was a faithful and loyal man that protected his little brother with all the ferocity of a mother bear, or a dragon guarding its plunder. Dean was selfless in all other things but in terms of his brother he was selfishly greedy. Hunters called the pair codependent and said that they lived out of each other's pockets, driving around the country in their father's old Chevy. More than once were they called homeless bums by other hunters in one breath while being praised in the next breath for their dedication to saving lives. Finrod smiled at the picture of a selfless and dedicated protector willing to break even the law of the land to do the right thing; and as far as he was concerned Dean was every bit his father's son, and Beren's brother. He just wished that Dean was better behaved with women. Finrod chuckled at the mental image of Dean meeting and flirting with his aunt Galadriel.

It was just after three in the morning when Brego spelled his Ada and took over driving. Finrod slept the rest of the ride, resting in blissful reverie as Irmo Lorien placed calming dreams in his mind. Finrod only woke when they passed through town and towards Bobby's lot. As they pulled out of town and towards where they had been told Singer's Salvage was, Brego had time to contemplate what was about to happen. All throughout the drive he had managed to put it out of his mind, but now as he pulled into the driveway and maneuvered through the towers of junked cars he began to wonder if it was really a good idea for him to even be here, as a nervous flutter developed in his gut. He pulled to a stop and began to tap absently on the steering wheel in nervousness. Finrod noticed and glanced over at his son out of the side of his eye with a raised eyebrow. A small and fond smile pulled on his lips, as he huffed out a breath of laughter through his nose. Brego turned off the engine and sat in his seat for a long moment, before he gathered his courage and turned to look at his Ada. Finrod's smile became warm as he reached over and took Brego's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Brego took a calming breath and smiled back. Finrod let go of Brego's hand and opened the door.

Brego sat alone in the car for another moment before he breathed in deeply and exited the car. Finrod stood tall and proud, his hands slightly shaking from nervousness, but otherwise he looked outwardly calm. But Brego knew his Ada, and Finrod only stood straight-backed and regal when he was nervous. Case in point, Finrod began to wring his hands a moment later. Brego smirked and walked around the car to set an encouraging hand on his shoulder. Finrod looked over at his son and sent him a brief and fleeting smile, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes took a bracing breath and moved towards the porch. Brego let his hand fall, and followed behind shortly thereafter. As he approached he saw in the drive the big black muscle car, sitting sedately in the yard, gleaming in the morning sun; every inch of its form, well cared for and clean and its black paint shining.

'That's Dean's car,' Brego realized as he thought to himself, and an impressed smirk pulled across his lips. Finrod barely spared the car a fleeting glace, ignoring it in favor of the front porch; his whole thought and sight focused on the door, for behind that door was his son, a thing more dear to him than aught else. He walked up the front steps his heart was in this throat and pounding like the thundering of horses across Maglor's Gap.

Inside the house was a different matter. The Winchesters, plus their resident fallen angel, found themselves absorbed in research for a possible hunt. Even with the thought of facing a being as old as the pyramids that happened to have killed a Werewolf with his bare hands, and was also Dean's Mother, it was business as usual in the Singer house. But try as he might, Dean's heart was just not in it. All he could think about was that his birth mother was coming, and as he paced the room he began to wonder what he was really like. Tolkien's stories about the First Age were sparse and lacked the heavy detail that his later works had. He knew only the bare minimum about Finrod, but what little they could gather from the appendices and the books Finrod was a kick ass warrior that would have impressed even John with his courage and skill. After all it took a special kind of crazy courage to take on Sauron, and then a Werewolf after seeing what it had done to his companions. Dean was impressed and a little proud to have such a badass dude for his mother, when by all accounts Finrod was a rather peaceful type. Suddenly Dean was torn out of his thoughts by the sound of a car engine breaking the comparative silence of the morning. Dean shot up from the chair he had sat in a moment before then dropped right back down, and his leg began to jitter up and down as Sam stood up and looked out the window.

In the drive a car slowly pulled in, and idled for a moment before it was shut off. Sam let out a snort as he recognized the car model. The tall Winchester smirked and shook his head in exasperation, as Dean stood up and went to his brother's side. The elder of the two saw the car and a bright smile appeared on his face.

"At least he's got good tastes," Dean said with a low whistle. Sam shook his head in exasperation as he took in the cheery '67 impala. The car was a gleaming black to match Dean's Baby, with the painted image of a rising phoenix stenciled on the hood in shades of gray and white with gold and red accents. Dean smiled in admiration. There were two passengers in the car and they sat there for a moment before the passenger door opened. Sam had to stifle a gasp when he finally saw the man that got out of the car. He was a little taller than Castiel, and possibly almost even in height with Sam. His face was framed with shining gold hair that was longer than Sam's and was tied back loosely in a gold clasp. His face was youthful and very handsome with not a trace of facial hair. Sam could instantly see the familial resemblance, in his lips and smile, and his eyes; they were the same color of aqua green as their, or rather, his mother, and of course the same golden hair. He also had a strong jaw and a high, kingly brow that was similar to Dean's, but in his cheeks and his chin they were slightly different. They were built different too. He had the broad shoulders of a warrior and tall lean muscular build of an Olympic athlete, whereas Dean was bulkier through the chest, but no less through the shoulders, and was thicker in the waist. He also lacked Dean's bowed legs. Dean's mother looked in a way, almost delicate with his fine bone structure and lean build. If it were not for the fact that he had very famously battled with a Werewolf with just his bare hands and won, and also battled wills with Sauron, Sam would have never thought the Elf capable of violence by sight alone. Then the driver stepped out of the car. Sam felt as if someone had stolen the breath from his lungs, when he saw him. He was identical to Dean, but not so much so that he was a perfect copy like a Shifter would be, but like a twin would look compared to another. The only difference Sam could spot at a distance was that the twin looked more youthful and less careworn and he had a happy spring in his step. Dean swore profusely beside him, when he saw the driver.

"Holy… Son of a bitch, Sammy, he looks just like me!" Dean cursed. Sam nodded in detached wonder as he watched Finrod walk up the steps and stand on the front porch before the door. Sam looked over and found that Castiel had taken a spot next to Dean and tilted his head curiously as he observed Dean's mother.

Castiel looked intently at the creature on the porch. He had heard about the Eldar from Michael long ago, and about their protectors, but even he was startled by the purity and radiance of the soul barely held within the confines of his form. It was so pure and full of goodness that it was obviously not a threat; not to mention the fact that it walked right through the wards without a flinch, stopping right in front of the door. Castiel pulled back the veil with his sight and peered into his soul, and again he was taken aback by the purity and brilliance of it. It glowed so brightly that the Elda's own skin radiated its light. It looked like a soul that had been nurtured within the light of an angel's Grace, and came forth even more brilliant and pure than any he had seen before; other than Dean. This was a soul that had been born in purity and in the peace of a Blessed Realm. Castiel saw the thread of nervousness and worry running through it like a wavelength of blue and purple light, a thing he had seen in Dean's soul hundreds of times, but these colors were slowly being drowned out by the gold and silver threads of courage; as he tried to regain his nerve.

Castiel observed this soul for a moment more before he turned his Sight to the other person slowly making his way towards the Elda. Again Castiel felt his failing Grace flair with shock when he finally beheld him. The double was obviously no Shifter, for his soul was a perfect Twin to Dean's, but whereas Dean's bore the scars of the losses he had endured and those of Hell, this soul held the purity and innocence that Dean's lacked. There was also a brilliance to it that came from his mother, and it had a mortal strength was well. These were things that, now that he saw them unblemished by the scars of Hell and life, he recognized in Dean. How could he have not seen this, Castiel wondered, 'How could I have been so blind?' the Twin came up the steps and rang the doorbell. Bobby grumbled about 'idjits' and rolled his chair over to answer.

Brego came up behind his Ada and waited after he rang the doorbell for someone to answer. The old white door swung open and an older man in a wheelchair swung into view. Finrod look at the man with a touch of pity before he smiled with genuine warmth and kindness; there was pity yes, but it was the pity of someone who knew how hard this must be on the older man. You can take the warrior away from the fight, but you can't take the fight out of the warrior.

"Yeah," the older man groused, "whaddya want?" Brego raised an eyebrow at the gruff greeting, but Finrod for the most part ignored it.

"I, well rather, we… are looking for someone," Finrod said in his most diplomatic manner, "we were told that you might be able to contact him." Finrod conveyed his hopefulness with his expressive eyes, and prayed the old man would help. The gruff old man gave him a once over as he chewed on his thought before seemingly coming to a decision.

"I might," he said cryptically, "who are ya lookin' for?" Finrod's shoulders relaxed a little and his smile softened.

"the Winchester brothers: Dean and Sam," Finrod started, "we were told you would know where they are; so do you?" the old man looked over at Brego with an appraising look then mulled over the question for a moment, before he gave them a nod.

"Yeah, I know 'em," he said and Finrod brightened, his eyes hopeful. "Dean, Sam!" he called back into the house.

Finrod gripped his hands together tightly, and Brego pried them apart to take one in his own. He gripped the hand tightly as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. The old man swung his chair around to let them enter, motioning them inside. Brego stepped in first, and the moment he stepped over the welcome mat the aging hunter seemed to relax a little. Brego pulled Finrod in with him and over the threshold, and as soon as he stepped over the mat and into the house he was nearly overwhelmed by the sense of fear and desperate urgency that had taken hold in the house. Finrod nearly staggered at the weight of it but shook his head clear of the emotional maelstrom permeating the house. The old hunter closed the door and wheeled into the kitchen, and Brego and Finrod followed him. Finrod caught a glimpse of a study that would have done his uncle Fëanor proud; books and papers stacked up high on a desk and on shelves with a sense of ordered chaos. Finrod cracked a grin, remembering his old uncle's office/workshop and how it would have papers and journals stacked on any available surface with only his worktable remaining clean. Fëanor may have been a very structured person but his shop and personal workspace was barely organized chaos.

The old man opened the fridge and handed them a couple of cold beers. Finrod looked down at the drink and knew instantly that it was a test, so he drank it anyway; swallowing the brewed ale down in a mouthful. Brego followed his Ada's example but grimaced at the watered down drink. He threw the old man a nasty look, but the hunter seemed satisfied by the response. He relaxed even more with a smile and finally held out his hand in greeting.

"Name's Bobby," he said and Brego clasped his hand with a tight smile.

"I'm Brego," he said with a sour look, and added, "your beers horrible." Bobby just replied with a pleased smile on his bearded face. Finrod held out his own hand with a smile.

"And I am Findaráto Ingoldo," he said as he clasped Bobby's hand and bowed his head slightly in respect.

Finrod's easy smile vanished when he heard footsteps coming from the study. He turned around and saw a very tall young man with hazel eyes and chestnut hair. Just behind him stood another man in a tan overcoat with a serious face and intense blue eyes, and wild dark hair. Finrod was taken aback, and for a moment he thought that he was one of his own kinsmen, but as he peered deeper he saw the fading outline of failing wings. In an instant he knew him to be one of the beings not unlike the Ainur, and most certainly a kinsman to Lauro, and the one that Avery had told him about. Finrod place his hand over his heart and bowed his head respectfully to the powerful being. If there was anything that spending time in the Valinor growing up taught him, it was to respect the beings of Creation and the mighty Servants of Eru: just not all of them.

"Mae govannen, Ainu," he said with calm and practiced reverence, and the being smiled softly in appreciation before bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Im Findaráto, Hir nin." (Well met, holy one. I am Findaráto, my lord.)

"I am Castiel," the holy one replied in kind, "I am an Angel of the Lord on High." Finrod felt as if his very breath was stolen away at the statement. Aside from Avery's son and ardent protector, he had never met a true angel, and now one stood before him garbed in the form of a humble man. Brego bowed deeply at the waist and spoke in reverence to the angelic kin of the Ainur with a kind word.

"Im Brego Imrathon, Hir," he said, his head bowed to his chest. He tall one chuckled and cocked a crooked smile as he held out his hand.

"I'm Sam," he said, as Brego took his hand. Brego found his smile growing at the obvious mirth in he saw in the other's face. Then Sam stepped aside, and Brego was face to face with his twin.

Dean held back while Sam and Castiel went to greet the two visitors. He watched warily from the doorway behind Sam as Finrod greeted first Sam then Castiel with a reverent bow of respect. Dean cracked a grin, knowing Castiel would appreciate the respect in the gesture. The doppelgänger greeted Castiel with a deep bow, and reverent smile, and a friendly handshake to Sam. Then suddenly Sam stepped aside and Dean found himself face to face with his double. Dean stepped forward hesitantly, all the while studying the man before him. His double stared his mouth open in shock, and Dean found himself doing the same, before he suddenly had an armful of his double. The man pulled Dean tightly to his chest and wrapped him in a bruising hug; his mouth smiling against Dean's ear.

"Hanno," he whispered against Dean's ear before pulling away (Brother.) Dean saw tears in the other's eyes as he cupped Dean's cheek with a joyous smile spread wide across his face. "I found you," he said with a giggle. Dean gazed back at the double dumbfounded at the smile, and the tears now rolling down his face. Most of all he wondered why he would hug him, but before Dean could ask or ponder it further, the double pulled away. Suddenly Dean found his gaze drawn to the Elf that was slowly moving towards him. Finrod stopped before Dean, his face a picture of wonder and unbridled love, tears shining brightly in his luminous eyes. He reached out to Dean with his hand and touched Dean's cheek, his fingers gently smoothing over the rough whiskers and peach fuzz before gently cupping his cheek. Dean realized with a start that he was being admired, and marveled, and found himself smiling softly. Then it suddenly hit him, like a ton of bricks: this was his mother! This was the being that carried him, nurtured him, loved him for 9 months, and gave birth to him before, regretfully giving him away to another family. The very idea that he was loved so much that his mother sent him away to protect him, brought a tear down his face. Finrod's brows pulled in sorrowful compassion as he wiped away the tear with a brush of his thumb, all but ignoring the ones on his own face.

Finrod chuckled weakly as the tears of joy began to run down his face. Dean stared at him with love and wonderment, a fragile smile pulling on his lips. Suddenly Finrod found his paralysis gone, and he all but launched himself at his son, pulling him into Dean's chest and wrapping his arms around Dean as tightly as he dared. This was his Son! Finrod wondered; His little Imrathon. The child he had nursed but once before he gave him away, along with a piece of his heart. And Finrod's heart swelled with love and he felt his soul brighten as the piece of himself he had thought long lost snapped into place; his fears melting away. His spirit soared and a great weight lifted, and he suddenly felt as if he had never been though the horrors of the first age. He felt young again, his heart uplifting with the same adventurous spirit of an Elf hoping for new beginnings in the Outer Lands. His very countenance even changed, and Brego gasped as he began to glow with the radiance of one of the Eldar. Finrod in this moment had no joy greater than this: holding his son in his arms again; save, perhaps, the joy he felt at the birth of his child. It showed in his form as the light of the Noldor enveloped him and his son in radiance. Finally he pulled away, finding in his heart the need to see his son speak just as much as hear it.

When Finrod finally pulled way, Dean felt suddenly bereft of something; as if he had lost a part of himself he had only known in his hart and dreams. Dean felt the overwhelming desire to pull Finrod back into an embrace just to feel it again. Dean looked at Finrod and saw that there were tears on his face, and that he looked different. It was almost as if he had been filled with light to the point that it radiated from every pore. Then he understood why they called the Noldor of Aman he Light Elves; Finrod looked as what many angels were thought to look like: fair of face and form, with a body suffused with hallowed light, making them otherworldly in appearance; a kind and loving warmth that radiated from their very being.

'This is my mom,' Dean thought, and Finrod smiled, his laughter like unto the tinkling of many bells and chimes, and his smile like sunlight and moonlight. Dean heard a strange voice suddenly coming into his mind, and with a start he realized it was Finrod's.

'You are my son, Imrathon,' he said, mind to mind, 'no matter what your name, you are my child; my firstborn. Oh… you look so much like your father, Dean. Our son! Oh look you, my beautiful child.' Then Dean heard the voice in his ears, and it sounded just as sweet and caring as it did in his mind.

"My son," Finrod breathed, tears running down his face anew. "Yonya… oh I missed you so much!" (My son)

Dean couldn't help the smile that found itself on his face, and wondered how he had lived without him. So overwhelmed by this flow of emotions he need to sit down. Dean reluctantly pulled away and walked back into the library/study, and collapsed onto the couch in front of the window. Dean buried his face in his hands and ran his hands carelessly through his hair. Finrod watched this with concern for a moment before he sat down beside Dean, far more gracefully, and placed a gentle and on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked up with teary eyes, and dropped his hands to his knees. Finrod's eyes softened with compassion, as he saw the weariness of his son's spirit.

"Dean," he said his voice rough with emotion. His eyes dropped and he gently took Dean's hand in his own. He bent down to catch Dean's gaze before he spoke again. "I never wanted to give you up," he said with conviction. Sorrow deeper than the sea pooled in his eyes, and Dean found himself lost in Finrod's ancient gaze. "You must know this. I love you… more than you could even imagine; more than anything; more than life! But …I feared for your life, Dean. You weren't safe; not with me! This is the only reason… you were sent away." Finrod confessed and Dean held his hand tighter. His double, Brego then sat down beside him, and Finrod's face pulled into a joyous smile. "Look at you!" he said with a soft laugh, "together! You have not been this way since before you were born!"

Dean's face pulled in confusion at this confession and he looked over at his double; a sinking realization coming to his heart, while his mind ardently denied it. Finrod simply laughed. Sam and Castiel joined them, and Castiel seemed especially intent on studying Finrod and Dean together. Finrod saw this and smiled, shaking his head at the curiosity of the angel.

"Dean, this is your twin brother, Brego," Finrod said, gesturing towards his younger son. Dean's head snapped up and his eyes went wide with shock. Castiel squeaked from the back of his throat in stunned shock, and stared wide eyed at the pair on the couch. Dean looked back and forth between Finrod and Brego; who grinned at him and gave a tiny wave.

"Hello, brother," he said cheerily. Dean gulped hard and gave Brego a nervous smile. Finrod reached out and gave Dean's hand a squeeze, smiling at him before looking back at Brego. Dean looked pensive and Finrod saw a hint of envy in his eyes before they dropped with shame and worry.

"What is it?" Finrod asked softly. Dean looked up at him with sad and lonely eyes.

"Why did… why didn't he get…" Dean stumbled and tried to ask, but he couldn't find the words to say that wouldn't sound jealous. Finrod seemed to understand because he eyes became filled with old sorrow and pain when he looked at Brego with a sad smile.

"I didn't know I was carrying twins, Dean, and when you were taken away… I didn't know I would birth another," Finrod said and smiled, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "You see, elves can tell what the gender of a child is by connection to it, and twins, they are considered one soul split between two forms. Brego died shortly after birth," he said with sad eyes and Dean looked back at his twin, "his soul departed for Mandos, and after I had died and had entered the halls of Waiting, awaiting my re-embodiment, I didn't know this and had wondered what had happened to my child. I was given a very wonderful surprise, when he was returned to me, after I returned to life. Oh, Dean," Finrod sighed, reaching out to touch Dean's cheek tenderly. "I love you both… so much. I knew Brego was alright but you Dean, I knew nothing. You are Half-Elven, and thus given the Choice of the Peredhel. To choose between the Life of the Eldar, or to be mortal, and to be granted the Gift of Men. You are of two worlds, Dean, and this is why I came. Your choice will determine your fate. Whichever one you choose, Dean, know that I will always love you. But I wanted you to know you had a choice, and to not have it made for you."

Dean took a deep breath and wiped his hand down his mouth, a weak smile pulling at his thinned lips as he gulped hard and chewed on this new information. Finrod squeezed his son's hand encouragingly, a warm smile on his face.

"this is a lot to take in," Dean said wanting nothing more than to stand and pace; to rant and rave, curse swear, and be angry, but he didn't want those sad and hopeful eyes to be broken and full of dejected despair. Castiel saved Dean from further awkwardness by speaking.

"Both you and Brego were re-born in Valinor before the War of Wrath," he clarified and suddenly found himself under the scrutiny of both Sam and Bobby's impressed gazes, "what?" he asked, and Sam raised a questioning eyebrow, "it was informative reading, and I like to know my adversary." Sam scoffed and cracked a crooked smile before rolling his eyes, and getting to Castiel's point; seeing the confused nod and curious look on Finrod's face.

"What Castiel is trying to say is that we need your help," he said, "your exploits are well documented and you have a wealth of knowledge that we could use right about now. Would you help us?" Finrod contemplated this for a moment before he answered.

"Yes," he said, and Sam sagged with relief, "we will help, but," he said, "I have one condition." Sam looked at Dean and conveyed his trepidation before Dean jumped in.

"What condition," he asked and Finrod smiled at his son.

"Come back with me, with us," he said and took Dean's hand, "I want you to see your home, meet your people, see your grandfather, see the land of your kin." Finrod smile hopefully trying to convey his desire in words to his eldest son. Brego grinned and gripped Dean's shoulder tightly turning him to look at him.

"You'll love it, brother, it's beautiful, and grandfather will adore you. You can meet our cousins, and maybe even great-grandfather Finwë. You can meet Beren's descendants," Brego said with a wide grin. Dean clenched his jaw and chewed on his lips, as he mulled over the information; gripping his hands tightly. Finrod came from the Second Age, and probably didn't know what had happened to Numenor, or he was giving him a chance to see his kinsmen in Ennorath before going to Valinor. He looked up after a moment with a determined look in his eyes before he answered.

"Okay," Dean said, "we'll do it, but Sam goes too," he demanded, "that's non-negotiable!" Dean expected a fight but instead Finrod sagged in relief, smiling with a nod as tears of joy and relief ran down his face. Finrod swiftly pulled Dean into a powerful embrace before he pulled away. He kissed Dean's cheeks and forehead before resting his own against Dean's a soft smile on his face.

"I hope none of us come to regret this decision, Yonya," Finrod said with a vibrant smile (my son). Tears misted in his eyes as he smiled lovingly at his son, and Dean smiled back. Castiel looked at the pair with longing, remembering the acceptance and brotherhood he felt with the Host and how powerless he felt without them, in his long and slow descent into humanity being cut off from them. Finrod looked over and saw the longing and sorrow on the angel's face instantly, and remembered the gift the Valar had granted him to give. "The Valar will most assuredly welcome you with open arms, Castiel," he said. Castiel looked up suddenly with wonder and fragile hope burning in his eyes. Finrod smiled, "after all, are not the Cherubim and Seraphim brothers and sisters to the Ainur? They would welcome your presence." Castiel's countenance brightened, as hope and joy filled his fragile Grace to overflowing. Finrod stood up and pulled away from Dean to gladly clasp Castiel's arms in a Warrior's embrace; forearms clasped and heads bowed to meeting. A spark of Power passed through Finrod and into Castiel's arms soothing hurts and bolstering his strength. When they pulled apart it was with a far greater respect for one another, as brothers-in-arms against the darkness and evil of the World.

"Alright, if we've all had our little chick-flick moment," Bobby groused, "can we get on with the plan to stop the apocalypse? And maybe get me out of this blasted chair!" Bobby shook the arms of his wheelchair with a pointed look, and glared at the gun sitting innocuously on the desk. Brego looked at the gun and stood up to study it while Finrod sent a smile and pointed look at Castiel. The falling angel tilted his head curiously, his brows scrunched in puzzlement.

"What Grace is given me, I pass to you," he said and Castiel suddenly felt different. He walked up to the crippled hunter and pressed two fingers to Bobby's forehead. There was a light glow that passed into the aged man and after a moment he felt warm. His eyes widened and he gingerly braced his arms on the armrests, and slowly levered himself out of his chair and onto this feet. The aged hunter stood wobbly on his feet for a second before he took his first steps out of his chair in months. Bobby looked up with a shocked expression on his face, and, for a moment, Dean and Sam thought they saw tears in the old man's eyes. Dean looked up at Castiel with awe.

"How," he asked, "I thought you were out of mojo." Castiel looked just as bewildered and awed as Dean before he looked at Finrod. Finrod simply smiled. "Mom?"

"I was given a gift from the Valar to give to you, Castiel," he said, his smile pleased and contented, "a connection to Eruman, the Heaven of heavens, and the dwelling place of Eru, God, via the Valar." Finrod laughed brightly with a cheeky smile, "in short: they gave him back his Grace." Brego laughed, causing Dean to break out in an openly cheerful smile his own laughter igniting joyous laughter to erupt in the others. Dean pulled bobby into a powerful hug, and same joined him; for at last hope was kindled where there had been hopelessness, and in that moment their strength renewed.

"Okay," Bobby said gruffly, "now that that's over," he grumbled as Dean and Sam pulled back, "can we please get on with the plan to stop the devil." Brego looked back at the gun again and picked it up, studying the craft of it and the Power woven into its making.

"Yeah," Dean said, and looked over at Finrod, a hopeful smile on his face, "you see, mom, we got this gun that can kill anything, and if we can get close enough, we're gonna use it to kill him." Dean's hope was so bright that Brego was reluctant to burst his bubble.

"It won't work," Brego said as he examined the gun, "this… weapon…," Brego paused and lifted the gun in his hands, "it has power but it… it doesn't have the Power to kill him." Sam's shoulders slumped and he sputtered in denial.

"No, the Colt can kill anything," he said, and Brego shook his head.

"It may be powerful, and it might kill most things," Brego explained, "but this gun… Sam, I'm Noldor. I was raised in Valinor. I was taught craft by the finest craftsmen of the Eldar. I studied under Aulë, the great Smith of the Valar. I know how to create Weapons of Power, I've seen how it's done, and this… this doesn't have the Power. It won't kill him." Brego put the gun back on the desk while the others came to grips with the fact that their idea wouldn't work. Brego sent his Ada a look and Finrod sat down, worrying his lip. Brego sat down beside him and placed a hand on Finrod's knee; consoling him.

"Mother," he said urgently, "you have to tell them," Finrod grasped his hand and squeezed hard, his eyes resigned. Dean looked at Finrod with dawning realization.

"You have plan," he stated, and after a moment Finrod nodded. He looked up and saw the hopeful looks of his son and the hunters around him. He swallowed hard around the lump of fear in his throat before he answered.

"There is a spell," he began hesitantly, "the Valar created it with Eru's blessing. It was used to lock Morgoth beyond the Doors of Night and into the Void. Not many know that there was a second part to the spell, formed by Varda, the Lady of Light, to prevent the Fallen Ones from returning."

"Fallen Ones," Sam asked. Finrod's gaze drifted, as if he was reliving some far of horror.

"Valarauko," he breathed in nameless terror, as if the very name would summon its presence. His gaze cleared and latched onto Castiel's. "Balrogs; demons of the ancient world; Corrupted Maiar spirits that fell into the service of Morgoth; they were demons of Shadow and Flame." Finrod shook his head and continued, "The spell locked them in a cage, in the Void, set with Seals. The Power of these Seals was derived from the Power of the demons themselves. It reduced them to no more than a star in the heavens. When their power is gone, their light is extinguished; they die." Sam's eyebrows shot up in stunned shock.

"If this spell was so powerful, then why not use it on Morgoth?" he asked. Finrod sighed.

"The spell requires representatives for each of the Valar, or the Valar themselves," Finrod explained, and sighed looking up at Sam with patient pity. "None of them wanted to do such a thing. For all his evil, for all his Darkness and corruption, he was once their brother; and none of them wanted to essentially sign his death warrant. It was made more for his lieutenant, Sauron, than for Melkor; but they never could catch him." Again there was a flash of pain across his face and through his eyes was old sorrow, but Finrod breathed and continued on. "I think that the spell could be used against Lucifer, to lock him up, for good. If we have representatives from each of the seven Legions of the Host…" he paused and his eyes glanced between Dean, Sam, Castiel and Bobby, "it might just work."

"Whoa, wait… back up," Dean said holding up his hands. "Seven legions… of Angels?" a confused look stole across his face as he turned to Castiel. "Cas, what do you know about this?"

"There are seven Legions in the heavenly Host," Castiel explained, "I come from the first Legion: Michael's Legion." Finrod nodded and continued further.

"There are 77 Garrisons in each of the Seven Legions, but they can all be broken down into the basic types of Angels," Finrod explained. "There are two separate classes of angels in the Host: the angels, consisting of mostly foot soldiers and cupids; and then the Archangels, consisting of the commanders and generals of the host. These classes are broken down further into tiers, or power levels. The lesser tier of angels are mostly are mostly Cupids and Cherubs, whereas the Greater angel tier is comprised of foot soldiers, captains, and minor commanders that are Seraphim, all with their own unique classifications. The lesser archangels are far fewer in number, and far more powerful; they tend to be the old Seraphim. These are the direct commanders of several Garrisons, and are the second, third and fourth in command of their respective legion." Finrod looked up and saw Sam taking notes while Dean listened with genuine interest. Castiel had a look of impressed and pleased respect, while Bobby seemed to be digesting the information.

"Okay, that's… wow," Sam stuttered, a childlike smile on his face.

"What about the last tier," Dean asked, and Castiel answered for him.

"The Archangels," he said, "the Elder Archangels; the Generals of the Host." Dean unfolded his arms and looked at Castiel with shock and no small amount of fear.

"You mean like, Raph and Gabe and all them big dicks," he asked. Castiel nodded. "Jeez," Dean breathed and ran his hands through his hair.

"Michael is the Eldest, and the General of the whole Host," Finrod expounded, "but he directly commands the First Legion. Lucifer used to command the Second, Raphael commands the third, and Gabriel commanded the Fourth." Finrod paused as the information sank in before he continued. "The Fifth legion was once commanded by Azazel, but he sided with Lucifer and became Fallen. He was stripped of his title in the Host and cast down with the Devil; he became the Yellow eyed demon. Command of the Fifth has since been given to Lauresel: the Guardian and Protector of Fathers and Children; he came from Michael's legion. As a Guardian he was given charge with protecting my sister-son: Avery Elfstar, Istilel." After hearing this Dean interrupted Finrod's explanation.

"Whoa, wait; wait; wait; back up," Dean said shaking his hands in a stopping motion, "your nephew is protected by an Archangel?!" Finrod laughed at Dean's obvious bewilderment, and explained.

"Lauro was not an Archangel when he was given charge over Avery, nor when he was born unto him either; he was only a greater Angel at the time," Finrod explained with a bemused smile.

"Born unto," Sam asked, catching Finrod's choice words. Finrod nodded.

"Yes," Finrod confirmed, "Lauro, or Gabriel as he was thus named by his parents, was born into his vessel; as Avery's youngest son. My nephew, Avery, loves him very much, and Lauro loves them in equal turn. But Lauro knows he has One Father. He is not a fallen angel like Anna; he was given permission to do this." Finrod expounded further, "He is still a member of the Host. Anyway, the sixth Legion was commanded by Azreal the Angel of Death; and his are the reapers of souls." Dean and Sam shared a looked with wide eyes before Finrod continued, "He likewise joined Lucifer's ranks and was killed during the Attack on the Nursery. As such this Legion has remained under the command of the Lesser Archangels in a council, until such a time as God appoints a new General.

"the last Legion, the Seventh, is Commanded by an Archangel known as the Guardian," Finrod continued, "he was known as the Blacksmith of Heaven once, and is Michael's offspring; his youngest offspring." The collective hunters all shared a look and all at once turned to look at Castiel for conformation. The angel in question squirmed under the scrutiny and blushed.

"Cas," Dean asked, "is this true." Castiel diverted his eyes and cleared his throat nervously.

"Yes," he answered cryptically, and shortly.

"And I always thought that angels were junkless," Dean said with an amused smirk.

"We are genderless in the strictest definition of the word," Castiel corrected, "we are not either gender, but we do have one; just not one that humans could comprehend. We just tend to be referred to as male. It's easier." Dean snickered and Sam hit him, sending him a scathing Bitch-face; inferring to Castiel's obvious discomfort. Finrod raised a brow and continued.

"As I was saying," he interrupted, "the Seventh Legion is commanded by the Archangel who was once called Baliel. He now goes by the name he took while he was mortal during the Crusades: Balian D`Ibelin, the Defender of Jerusalem." Jaws dropped to the floor and eyes widened in shock to hear that an archangel had been on earth within the last millennia, and not just any archangel but one of the Seven. Finrod pushed on, "his Legion are the Guardians; the protectors of mankind." Sam and Dean sent each other wide stunned looks, while Castiel on the other hand tilted his head with curiosity and slight confusion.

"How do you know so much about the Host," he asked, "not even some of the prophets are privy to that knowledge." Finrod sighed and suddenly his form seemed for bow under a great weight of sorrow and memory.

"My nephew… he died in the Last Alliance, at the Dagorlad," he said, "and his spirit went beyond the circles of the World… he," Finrod paused and swallowed hard, "what he saw, what happened to him… he was changed. He stood before the Throne of God, Eru; the Father of all Creation and He put into his mind His Word, His Will, His Sight," Finrod looked up and Dean saw tears of wonderment and awe in his eyes, "He saw His face, heard His Word, and was changed. A great Power woke within him, the likes of which had never been seen before in any of His Creation: the Secret Fire, the Flame Imperishable. Avery became the Keep of Fate, the Master of the Rift between Worlds, and the Lord of time. He is known to my people and the people of Arda as the Silmaril: a being forged from the very spark of life that all carry within; formed from the Spirit of Fire, the light of the Trees, and poured into being by the Flame Imperishable. He is a being of Light and Power like none other; only He is greater." Finrod paused and took a breath to gather himself.

"He can no longer succumb to a mortal wound, and until his task is done, the task given unto him by God Himself, he will not die," Finrod swallowed around the dryness of his mouth before he continued. "Eru brought him back to life, and he was changed." Finrod cocked a smirk and his eyes twinkled with mirth, "but he is still a descendant of Finwë, and his spirit was forged by my uncle, Fëanáro," he chuckled, "thus he my uncle's infamous fiery temper. Gabriel was born before this, and into his family to keep him in check, and curb his temper." Finrod smiled, "Avery told me much of what he saw and of what Gabriel, Lauro, has told him." Dean sat blank faced for a moment before he raised an impressed eyebrow at the knowledge.

"Wow," he said blandly, "that's… impressive. I don't believe it, but still." Sam sent Dean a classic bitch-face, which said just how he felt about Dean's lack of belief.

"Dean," he said, "we didn't believe any of that stuff about Numenoreans or elves a few days ago," he ranted gesturing to Finrod and Brego, "and now we have one of the most famous Elves from their historical archives, and documents sitting on Bobby's couch. Not to mention that Captain America himself was documented as being a Numenorean. If that's not proof, I don't know what is." Dean had the brains to actually look shamefaced and nod his head in assent.

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced, holding up his hands in placation, "so in the meantime, to sum up about the spell," he held up his hand and began counting off on his fingers, "we need seven angels to represent their respective Legions, a place to perform the spell, and lastly bait to get the Devil there. That sound about right?" Finrod nodded.

"Yes, that's right," he answered, "we will also need someone to represent the people of this world: a child of Man." He leaned over and picked up a book and a sheet of paper and pen. He quickly sketched out the outline of the circle and the points. "They will each need to be arranged to form an eight pointed star, with the representative of Man at the north point. It will need to be painted in an open field, with hallowed water and oil, stained with the blood of each of the representatives. Once he enters the circle the fire will light, and he will be trapped. The circle will be formed of Ainur sigils and Enochian sigils, the older the better, because Lucifer is one of the oldest of the Archangels. The lines of the star will be Ainur, while the rings and circles Enochian." Finrod looked up to see if everyone had understood him, "I have the original outline for the spell, and the runes used," he turned to Castiel. "Could you translate the parts needed into Old Enochian?" Castiel took the page Finrod had produced out of his bag and studied it.

"If I had a month," the angel said, "maybe," he handed back the page. "You would be better off finding an Archangel willing to help you. They're the only ones that know Old Enochian. Perhaps, Balian would help; I hear that he has a fondness for humans." Finrod smiled sadly and nodded. "As for the representatives, I believe there are some angels that would do this and would be willing to help us. If I am not too far removed from the Host I'd like to volunteer to represent the First Legion." Finrod smiled widely.

"I thing you will do just fine," he said. Dean shifted uncomfortably for a moment then looked at his mother.

"Would I work," he asked and Finrod turned back to him with shocked eyes, "as a representative of Man?" Finrod smiled warmly but there was a sad note to it, admiring his son's willing self-sacrifice.

"Yes and no," he answered sadly, as he gripped Dean's hand. Dean looked dejected, "a representative of this world, Dean. You were not born on this world," he explained gently. "You are willing to make the sacrifice, but you are unable to." Sam suddenly looked pensive and quiet.

"Someone like me then," Sam asked. Finrod and Dean looked up sharply and fixed their eyes on Sam's penitent form. "I mean, I'm a representative of this world. I was born here. And I started this," he said regretfully, "it's only right that I fix it." Dean looked in that moment for all the world like he would take the blame himself if not for Finrod's gentle hand and his twin's comforting presence.

"If that is what you wish," Finrod said and Sam nodded. "Then you are perfect." Sam smiled hopefully and Dean smirked.

"Yeah," he said, "it's only right that the Vessel of Lucifer be the one to give him the shank." Dean grinned and Sam sputtered and began to laugh himself. Bobby clapped his hands together, and rubbed them vigorously, all the while with a giddy grin on his face.

"Alrighty then," Bobby said. The aging hunter walked over to his desk and grabbed a sketch pad. "Let's get this started. Finrod if you could write down all the details of the spell, you know incantations and all that, while feathers here gets to rounding up all the willing representative spell participants from the Host. Sam will get ready for the Spell and Dean and I will gather all the necessary ingredients." Finrod nodded and began to write down the necessary steps to be taken to cleanse Sam, and the ingredients for the spell.

"Some of these things can only be gathered fresh, like the Angel's blood," he said and looked up, "but the others should be just fine if they're gathered now." Finrod handed Castiel the spell ingredients list, and went back to sketching out the seal. For the first time since they arrived, Finrod and Brego could sense and aura of hope permeating the house.

TBC…

End note: hope you liked that part, epilogue next. Because I simply don't have the skill to concoct the spell and incantation, I'm going to skip it. The next part is the aftermath and the Winchesters entering into a wider world. (AKA: SHIELD) don't worry I won't have HYDRA pull the wool over them.

If anyone wants to write up the spell and incantation and the events of the spell, I might be willing to give you some names and info to add for the Seventh Legion rep. I would love it if you would write it. Post in the comments if you're interested and I'll give you the basic stuff to add.