Part I:

"Dean."

Dean Winchester let one eye flutter open dejectedly, glaring up at the figure that stood over what was, without a doubt, the most comfortable bed in the full unabridged history of Dean Winchester's life. "Casff."

"Dean, I have something very important to tell you." The angel stood stiff as always, leaning very slightly over the bed.

Dean watched him one-eyed for a few moments, then gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah," he levered himself up on his elbows and then onto his side, squinting up at Castiel. "I know, Tweety Bird and Chickenhawk have flown the coop. Crowley filled us in." He sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, his lightly freckled shoulders shuddering with a latent yawn. "Damn, that must have been the best sleep I've had in…. ever."

Castiel straightened, looking around the room - king sized bed, white curtains, deep carpet - in confusion. "Why are you sleeping in a castle?"

Dean chuckled hoarsely. "That," he began to climb out of the bed - waited for Castiel to move out of the way for exactly two seconds, then sighed and got out on the other side - "is a long story."

Castiel watched Dean lean back, stretching with his arms over his head, then the angel returned to scrutinizing the room. "There is something else I need to tell you. Where's Sam?"

Dean sighed, reached for the shirt that hung over the back of a large plush chair, and shrugged into it, rolling the thin fabric down over his midriff. "Next room over. What is it?"

Castiel glanced back at him again, his shoulders loosening almost imperceptibly. "Haven't you wondered why Michael and Lucifer have come to this small town?"

Dean nodded slowly. "There have been a few cracks about fishing, but I'm kind of done with that joke."

Castiel's eyes narrowed very slightly. "How is fishing a joke? It appears to be a valid form of food procurement."

"Cas, why have Michael and Lucifer come to Smallville?"

"Because they have found a new vessel," Castiel said, glancing back towards the gently wafting white curtain, past which the quaint view of Smallville masqueraded as a Stubbs painting.

Dean frowned, all hints of playful banter he had shared with Castiel dropping like shells from a shotgun. "I thought the whole point was getting our parents to-"

"Yes," Castiel finally met his eye, "Heaven's breeding plan is still part of the equation." The angel's mouth faltered slightly, his eyelids fluttered and his brow furrowed, as if the next piece of information was painful to convey. "The new vessel is a Winchester."

"What did you just say?

Both Dean and Castiel turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, fully dressed, his eyes wide, his cheeks sunken, mouth twisting in disbelief. "Did you just say-"

"Dad sure did get around, didn't he?" Dean tried to laugh it off, staring down at his feet, hands rising to rest on his hips, the edges of his smiling mouth quivering very slightly with fury and possibly nausea. "There's probably one of us every few states over."

"You misunderstand," Castiel said very quietly, watching Dean with eyes that were incontestably full of human sadness. "This vessel, he is the progeny of both your parents - he's a descendant of both the Winchester and Campbell bloodlines."

"How is that even possible?" Sam asked, finally stepping fully into the room. "Mom only ever had two kids, right? Dad would have told us-" he stopped, suddenly.

The brothers avoided each other's eyes, then finally Dean grunted, "It's Kent, isn't it?"

Castiel looked from him to his brother, jaw working very slightly. "I didn't know you were even aware that he was adopted-"

"He seemed familiar," Dean sighed, looking up at last, but meeting the eyes of neither his brother nor their angel. "Something about that kid... I don't know."

"Dean, that's impossible," Sam said gently, "he's too young - by the time he was born, Mom was already…"

"It is him," Castiel said, his voice even softer than Sam's. They were both watching Dean as if he were a volatile substance of some sort, bound to burst or implode at any point. "The mechanics are complicated, but-"

He was interrupted by a thoughtless knock against the doorframe, and the three of them turned to see Lex Luthor, sanguine and smirking as always. "Good morning gentlemen, I thought you might want to join me for some breakfast- oh." He stood up straighter, his eyes widening. "You must be Castiel."

He stepped further into the room, hand outstretched. His face had brightened considerably, then looked slightly strained when Castiel simply stared at the proffered hand.

Dean gave a low chuckle. "Don't take it personally, he's got the social instincts of a toaster."

As Castiel turned to give the elder Winchester a wounded look, Luthor tucked the rejected hand into the pocket of his trousers, leaning back on his heels and lifting his chin in the classic motion that was characteristic to him, but also decidedly practical in this situation, where he found himself in a room full of insanely tall men. "So… Clark Kent, harbinger of the Apocalypse. Can't say I saw that coming."

Dean's jaw set suddenly, but before he could say or threaten anything, Castiel turned to Sam, head tilted slightly to the side. "Who is this man?"

"He's…" Sam began, watching the tension-filled glares passing between his brother and their host; though to be fair, Dean was the only one glaring - Lex made do with a smirk that belonged in a schoolyard sass-off. "He's the guy with the castle."

"At some point, you'll both realize that trusting me will significantly simplify your lives," Lex said coolly, "Clark already has."

Dean looked up, eyes narrowed and smile tight. "Yeah. I noticed that. You wanna share with the rest of the class whatever reason your ass has for hanging around an underage-"

"Wow, ha. Yeah." Sam cleared his throat, reaching over to lay an arm across his brother's wide chest, one hand gripped on the opposite shoulder. "So. Um, why don't you and Cas go pick up the kid and bring him back here so we can work out-"

"I could simply retrieve him," Castiel began, but Dean, shaking off his brother's arm and stepping back as if his moment of anger had been unintentional, shook his head.

"No," he growled, glaring down at his bare feet, almost lost in the lush carpet. "You guys go… I think Luthor and I should sort some things out."

Luthor's smile widened imperceptibly.

Part: II:

The Impala's rumble faded to a soft purr as Sam pulled up near the barn, still trying to ignore the way Castiel continually vibrated in the front seat, all but fidgeting with the urge to simply appear wherever it was Clark Kent happened to be. "We're here, Cas, it didn't take that much longer-"

"One thing I do not envy humans," the angel said softly, running one finger along the glinting windowsill of his door, "is the amount of time spent going places."

"Well, you know what they say," Sam said as he smoothly extracted himself from the car, "life's a journey, not a destination."

Castiel scowled, climbing out of his seat as well and shutting the door distractedly, "That sentence confuses the concepts of time and space, Sam. I understand the metaphor, but that doesn't change the fact that the statement is inherently false."

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" came a shout from a-ways down the field, and both Sam and Castiel turned to see a sun-bleached man, years of weather leathering his skin, and just as many years of stubbornness and suspicion furrowing his brow. He had a rake in one hand, the other resting on his hip. His wife stood up from her crouch in the flowerbed, looking from her husband to the large, mutton-chopped man in their driveway.

"Uh, yeah." Sam raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the sun and making a vague greeting gesture. "Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent? Hey, we're here to see Clark-"

"Mr. Winchester?"

Clark stood on the porch, leaning slightly over the railing.

Sam found his breath catching in his chest slightly, watching the tilt of the head and jaw-line that so suddenly reminded him of Dean, a younger Dean when his brother's guard was down - he could see now how the boy's nose and eyes were arguably similar to his, as was the heavy brow, the lips verging on a feminine pout that Sam knew very well from years spent teasing his brother.

The jet-black hair of John Winchester, the wide blue eyes of Mary Campbell.

"Hey Clark," Sam said, his voice barely betraying the new lump in his throat, "we need you to come back over to Luthor's-"

"He's not going anywhere with you," Mr. Kent said calmly, leaning the rake against the side of the house, wiping his hands on the plaid of his shirt, and stepping towards the two strange men on his property. "Agent." He looked both Sam and Castiel up and down. "Dressing pretty casual at the bureau now, are they?"

Sam looked down at his jeans and jacket, smiling despite himself, then looked up again at the mistrustful farmer before him. "I don't know if Clark explained it to you, but we're not FBI agents, and what we're dealing with is something much larger than-"

"Oh, I understand," the elder Kent spoke over him, ignoring the warning hand his wife placed on his arm, raising his chin and glaring at Sam past the tanned and loose skin of his cheeks. "You're trying to involve my son in something far more dangerous than I'm comfortable with."

"Dad," Clark had made his way down the steps and to his father's side, placing one large hand on his shoulder. "They didn't mean to get me involved, I was the one who eavesdropped on them and Lex." He looked over at his mother for confirmation, but she looked away.

Sam saw Mr. Kent's eye twitch very slightly at the mention of the young Luthor's name, but before he could resume his protestations, or Sam resume his attempts to explain, Castiel said, "Mr. Kent, your son's involvement in the Apocalypse was foretold millennia ago, you cannot lay it at the feet of Sam and Dean Winchester."

"How is that possible?" Kent growled.

"Because he's our brother," Sam said, avoiding Clark's eyes, focusing on the fear in the face of the father. "Mine and Dean's." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the confusion spread on Clark's face, his hand go slack on his father's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, agen-" Martha Kent began, then shook her head very slightly, "Sam, there must be some mistake, Clark can't be your brother."

"If you're referring to the fact that Clark was not born on this planet, rest assured that this has no bearing on the situation. It does not change the fact that he is, in fact, a Winchester," said Castiel.

The vicinity surrounding the Kents and their unwanted visitors got very, very quiet.

The mooing in the nearby field thundered in the silence.

"Run that by me again," Sam's voice barely rose above a whisper.

Martha was the first to recover, looking first from the angel to her husband and then to her son. "That… what could you possibly mean by that?"

"Who are you?" Clark had stepped forward, past his parents, his earnest blue eyes trying to bore through Castiel. "Are you another demon? Like Crowley?"

Castiel's head tilted very slightly. "No, Kal-El," and Sam could almost swear he saw a smile hidden in his friend's scruff, "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."