Thanks and squishy hugs to Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and to Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for helping me get my ideas onto the screen.

Chapter Four

"Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."

"So?"

You kill an angel, its vessel dies, too.

Gadreel went north from Colby, choosing another road at random. It seemed to be the safest way to handle his route—keep it as random as possible.

The fuel gauge pointed resolutely to empty when he reached Nebraska, and he was forced to stop. He felt disproportionately nervous as he pulled over at a gas station, scared that he would be revealed somehow as an interloper. He could sense no angels close, but the fear nagged at him. He had seen Dean and Sam complete the ritual of buying gas many times, but he was still unsure as opened the cap and began to fill the tank. It seemed to take a long time, too. He didn't stare at the meter as he worked; he looked up and down the road as he had seen Dean do. He wondered if Dean was even aware that he did it, raking the horizon for a sign of danger. It seemed to be the sort of thing that was ingrained, possibly from the Winchesters' unusual upbringing.

When the tank was finally full, he went inside and queued at the register. There was a young man behind the counter, yawning as he took the money from a middle-aged woman. When their transaction was complete, Gadreel stepped forward.

"Pump two, please," he said.

The man looked up and nodded, then his eyes widened comically. "Whoa, dude, nice bike."

Gadreel smiled slightly as he had seen Dean do when people complimented his Impala. "Thank you."

He stared in awe at the motorbike for a moment longer and then dragged his eyes away to complete the transaction. Gadreel handed over the requested total and turned to leave. He was almost at the door when he heard it, a voice invading his mind, a new, powerful voice, and Gadreel knew he wasn't alone in hearing it. Metatron was addressing all angels.

"Rejoice, my family, for I am speaking to you at last…"

Gadreel listened with mounting horror. His hand flew out to the wall to steady himself, he felt almost woozy with shock.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?"

'Kill him, my family. Do not allow him to live another day,"

Gadreel turned. "They are coming for me."

The man looked confused. "Who's coming? Do you need a doctor?"

Gadreel didn't answer. He yanked open the door and fled to the motorbike, throwing his leg over and seating himself firmly before gunning the engine. He had to go, he had to get away from this place, go somewhere safe. That was the problem though, with every angel in creation searching for him now, there was nowhere safe. He needed somewhere isolated and guarded. The bunker was the obvious option, but he could not go there without risking himself. Dean knew now that he had hijacked his brother, and he could not expect a warm reception. No, he needed somewhere else.

He searched Sam's memories, looking for somewhere, anywhere that Sam had felt safe. The first place that came to his mind was Bobby Singer's home, but that was a charred shell now. The panic room could still be accessible to him, but it was warded against angels, too many for Gadreel to bear. There was one other place, a cabin in the woods. It was not ideal, but it would suffice. It was better at least than a motel or remaining on the road. It would have to do.

He pulled onto the road and directed his path north, to Montana.

The ride took many hours and one more stop for gas. Gadreel grew ever more nervous as he rode, as he could hear his name being bandied about on angel radio. There was one universal theme to the voices—shock. It seemed none of them imagined he would be freed. That was the problem. He had not been freed. He had not been given reprieve. He had been expelled by a sly trick, the same trick that cast them all out.

It seemed laughable to Gadreel now that he had thought he would be allowed a chance to live free. He had not factored in Metatron's desire for obedience. He hadn't realized how he would react to being betrayed. The voice that had commanded Gadreel's death had not been angry though; it had been full of smug satisfaction. He had known Gadreel would hear it, too, and that had pleased him. He wanted Gadreel to know they were coming for him.

He had felt the presence of two other angels on the road, and though he had increased his pace, he had not become overly worried. The helmet he was forced to wear to pass unobtrusively among the humans concealed his face, and Sam Winchester's unusual height was not obvious on the bike. He thought he was safe for now, or as safe as he could be when fleeing thousands of angels without his wings.

When he came to Whitefish, he was tempted to slow down, to take a minute to appreciate the scenery of the mountains, God's infinite creation, but common sense kept him moving. He traveled through the city at his original speed, coming to the side road that led to the cabin that had once belonged to Rufus Turner.

It was small and weathered, stacked against the side of the mountain as if it had been grown rather than built by human hands. He stowed the bike at the side of the foundation and let himself into the cabin.

He felt the wards immediately, tugging on him and making him want to leave as he walked through the door, but they didn't stop him. Sam and Dean had warded the place against angelic sight and hearing but not presence. Even when they had doubted Castiel's loyalty and state of mind, they had not wanted to keep him out. Their loyalty to their friend was now to Gadreel's advantage.

He could stay here—concealed from angels' sight and hearing—indefinitely.

Dean didn't know when he had fallen asleep, he didn't mean to, but the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake. "Sam?" he said drowsily.

"He is not here," Castiel said.

The events of the previous day caught up to him and he groaned. Sam was gone—Gadreel had taken him over and disappeared. Kevin was either slated to die or be tortured by the angels.

He rubbed at his eyes and looked around the room. There was an open book on angel lore on the table that he had apparently been using as a pillow. There was another open book in front of Castiel's seat, but the angel wasn't sitting anymore; he was standing in front of Dean and his expression was taut with stress, more stress that had been there the last time Dean had looked.

"What's happened?" he asked, afraid of the answer. "Is it Sam?"

"Metatron has addressed us all on angel radio," Castiel said somberly.

"That's a first, right? He hasn't done that before."

"No, I have been listening since my downfall, and I have never heard his voice." He paused for a moment. "Dean, Sam is in terrible danger."

"Tell me something I don't know," Dean said harshly. He knew exactly how much danger Sam was in as he'd been the one to throw him in front of the train. It was his reckless choice that had screwed then all over.

"Metatron has revealed Gadreel's freedom and choice of vessel."

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was. I heard his address. He has charged all angels with killing him. Dean, they are accepting the order."

"Why?" Dean asked. "Why would they want to kill Sammy? I get that we've pissed a few of them off with the whole diverting the apocalypse thing, but surely they're not all dicks."

"Gadreel is the betrayer," Castiel said. "He took what was pure and good and destroyed it. There cannot be an angel alive who would not want revenge on him for that. You must understand what life was like before, when we had God among us. It was good, the best times. We were dedicated to our purpose. Gadreel destroyed all that. They will kill him for his crimes."

"But that means…" Dean's voice was small and uncertain.

"Sam will die, too."

Dean closed his eyes. This was bad, so bad, so much worse than Sam being ridden around as a meat suit. At least then they had a chance of getting Gadreel out somehow. They'd been making a plan. But that would only work if Sam stayed alive. How could it have come to this? How could they have gone from being brothers—for the first time in a long time—to Sam being hijacked and on the run?

He sprang to his feet and swept an arm across the table, sending papers, books and glasses to the floor. "Dammit!" he bellowed.

Castiel stood back and allowed the hunter to vent his rage. He stormed up and down the room, overcome with self-loathing and anger. This, all this, was because of him. Sam was going to die and it was all his fault.

Kevin raced into the room, drawn by the sounds of Dean's wrath, and came to an abrupt halt beside Castiel. "What's happening?" he asked breathlessly.

"The angels are coming for Sam," Castiel said quietly. "Metatron has issued his death warrant on angel radio."

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean shouted. "Do you have to say it like that, like there's no chance for him? Like you don't even care."

"Of course I care," Castiel said angrily. "Sam is my friend, and I do not want to lose him either, but I do not see what we can do. There are thousands of angels and only three of us. One angel with stolen grace, one prophet, and—"

"One brother," Dean snarled. "Sam is my brother, and I'm gonna save him."

"How?" Castiel asked.

Dean turned away from him. He didn't know how; he just knew that he would.

"This isn't something that can be dealt away, Dean," Castiel said apologetically. "I cannot dive into Hell and retrieve him again. You cannot sell your soul. Even Crowley is useless in this instance."

"Hell… Souls…" Kevin took a deep breath. "Okay, when this is all over I'm going to need an explanation for all this, but how's about we start with one thing at a time. Sam's got this angel Gadreel in him, right, so he's got to be tuned into the same station. He'll know the angels are coming for him, and he'll know to hide. Sam's not stupid."

"Sam is not in control at the moment, Kevin," Castiel said.

"Yeah, but this Gadreel can't be dumb either. You angels are… well, angels. You've got all this knowledge and power. Surely he can keep his ass of their radar."

"The problem is that the other angels share that knowledge and power," Castiel said.

"No," Dean said quickly. "Kevin's right. Hell, Sam avoided Lucifer for a year; we both did. He's got the smarts and Gadreel has all that knowledge from Sam plus his own. He'll be fine." He almost laughed. It was true; it had to be true. Sam would be fine.

"Lucifer was one angel. There are thousands out there now."

Kevin cut Castiel off with a sharp look. "Let's try and focus on the positives here, okay?"

"Very well," Castiel said. "Sam has the means to escape notice. We just need to find somewhere protected for him to hide."

"What's wrong with here?" Kevin asked. "You said this was the safest place on Earth."

"You think we should invite the brother-hijacking dick back here for a slumber party?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Why not?" Kevin asked. "I don't want him here much either, apparently he was primed to kill or torture me, but if we're keeping Sam safe we have to keep him safe, too."

"Kevin is right," Castiel said. "This is the safest place for them to be."

Dean raked his hands through his hair in frustration, tugging the strands against his scalp. He wanted Sam safe, he wanted him back, but he didn't want that dick running around the bunker with Sam's face. He couldn't look at his brother and know it wasn't really him. He had suffered through that with Lucifer, as fists had pounded into him, and then again, when Sam was pulled out of the cage wrong. He hated to look at Sam knowing there was no connection there, no bond. It would hurt him to have to do that again, but he really didn't have any choice. Sam had to be kept safe until they could find a way to get Gadreel out. He had to stow away his own wants and needs and focus on the mission: saving Sam.

"How do we get him here?" he asked in a dead voice.

"We appeal to his survival instinct," Castiel said. "He surely heard the prayer as clearly as I did. He will know the angels are coming for him. One thing Gadreel has always been is a survivor. For him to sustain millennia of torture in Heaven's jail speaks of resilience. I suggest you call him and make the proposal. We will allow him safety here for as long as needed."

"As long as needed?" Kevin said. "We're going to just give him free rein of the bunker and hope he doesn't kill us? Kill me?"

"He defied those orders once," Castiel acknowledged. "I can only assume they came from Metatron, and he will not be here long. When he arrives, we will trap him, and find a way to free Sam. While you were both sleeping, I stumbled upon an idea."

"You think you can get him free?" Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel nodded. "It is dependent on various factors, Sam's state of healing for one, but I think I have a way to do it."

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, let's get to it then." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed speed-dial one. The phone rang out and he groaned. "That's that plan screwed then. Can't get him here if he won't answer the damn phone."

Kevin and Castiel looked at him as if he was a little slow.

"What?"

"He's an angel, Dean," Kevin said patiently. "He doesn't do phones. You want to talk to him, you're going to have to pray."

"You expect me to pray to the dick-bag that kidnapped my brother!"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Okay, go with your plan. Call him again. It's not like he can just turn the phone off. I guess if he does, you can go with something else. Write him a letter maybe, or send a telegram. Oh wait, you can't, 'cause you've no idea where he is. Stow it, Dean, and make with the praying."

Dean glared at Kevin for a moment, then turned to Castiel, searching for an ally. Castiel merely nodded calmly. Dean cursed and raised his eyes heavenward, accepting the ludicrousness of the gesture.

"Gadreel, we need to talk, so answer the damn phone, or I'll track you down and light up your ass with holy oil." He looked back at Kevin and grinned. "How's that for a prayer?"

Kevin looked unamused. "If your intention was to piss him off and make him less likely to help, you did—"

His words cut off as the phone began to ring in Dean's hand.

So… Gadreel is a wanted man and Dean is praying to the dick-bag that kidnapped Sam. Good times, right? For those of you that are getting impatient, we will hear from Sam in the next chapter.

Thanks for the faves, alerts and reviews. You don't know how much they mean to me. I am currently working on C16 and it's a tough one, so each time I get disheartened I go to my reviews page and remind myself that there are people reading this and enjoying it so I have to keep going.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx