Thank you to everyone who has review or altered/faved this story. Especially coffeeandcigarettes, my awesome beta. Doing this story is getting slightly difficult; I don't want to be cliché and keep to the exact same story line as the show but it's hard not to because of upcoming episodes. Plus, I don't know how much of what Sam is doing I want Lori to see…oh well. I'll figure something out. Enjoy. Review!

"Things are never going to change for you - never," Jessica Lee Moore spoke softly as she lay beside her boyfriend. Sam shook his head, "You're wrong. People can change. There is reason for hope."

Sam sat up, sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. His back to Jess, he ran a weary hand over his stress-worn face. Jessica propped up; her eyes bore into the back of her lover's head, "No, there isn't."

Sam sighed, his lips quivering, "How can you be so sure?"

Suddenly, somewhere a car door slammed. I jumped, startled, just in time to see Dean slide into the driver's seat. "Next time, you come in, Cas stays in the car."

"Went that well, huh?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. My memory was fuzzy. I knew I had been dreaming, but now, as I tried to recall the dream, I couldn't. Blinking repeatedly, I heard Dean scoff, "Let's just say Cas is the worst liar ever."

As if on cue, the black haired angel came waltzing over to the car and slipped in. He didn't not speak, just sat peacefully and quietly. Raising my brow, I asked, "Alright. So what's the deal?"

"According to deputy Framing a riot broke out at a gas station. About forty people in an all out kill-or-be-killed brawl. Gas station blows up in a pure white light. When the smoke clears, he see's a man unscratched kneeling on the ground-"

"Raphael?" I cut him off.

"That's what we're thinking," he met my eyes in the rearview mirror as he started the car and backed out. As we pulled out of the parking lot, he continued, "The man's a local, Donnie Finamen. He was the mechanic down at the station. Apparently he's now at St. Pete's. It's a mental clinic uptown."

"Of course," I rolled my eyes. "You know where?"

"Yes ma'am," he tossed me a wink. Suppressing a smile, I leaned back and watched the town pass, blurry through the window. Ten minutes later, we arrived at St. Pete's. The mental clinic was simple and small with a neatly clipped lawn and bright flowers around the edges of the pathway. Inside, Dean plastered on the Winchester charm and politely asked the young girl behind the desk where his 'dear family friend Donnie Finamen' was. Without hesitation, she pointed him in the right direction. Dean glanced over his shoulder and nodded for us to follow. I took Castiel's arm, "Come on, Castiel."

Together the three of us roamed the halls until finally, Dean stopped. We were outside patient room 1312. Through the wide window that separated the room and hall, we could see a black man, possibly mid-twenties, early-thirties in a wheel chair. He was hunched over, staring at a spot on the tiled floor of his room. Dean's voice filled my ears, "I take it that's not Raphael anymore?"

"Just an empty vessel," Castiel replied. Though his voice was normal, you could practically hear the desperation and disappointment shining through. Dean snorted, shaking his head, "So this is what I'm looking at when Michael jumps my bones?"

"No. Michael is far more powerful. It would be much worse for you."

The angel turned and retreated. Looking up at Dean, I exhaled, "Good luck with that."

"Oh yeah, thanks."

We drove around town for nearly thirty minutes before we decided we weren't going to find a hotel anywhere close. Dean decided to head to the neighboring town, Oakland, in search of a place to stay. Just as we left city limits, he noticed a dirt road that curved up to what appeared to be an abandoned house. "We'll check it out." The house was as he had predicted. Most of the porch was rotted, there was very little furniture, and the walls were in serious need of a paint job. Whilst Dean was unloading the trunk I sat on the steps just inside the door, Castiel standing over me, "How are you holding up?"

"I've got it together. I'd be better if I knew what was going on," peering up at him, I sighed. "Castiel, where is my archangel? If I'm a prophet, shouldn't I be protected?"

He seemed unsure how to answer at first. "Your angel, like many, has given up the fight. He has subdued to the whims of Zachariah. You are key, Lori, like all the lords prophets. Since your archangel…" Cas trailed off.

"Has left the building?" I offered. He titled his head, "What?"

"Since he's left."

"Yes. You need protection. Dean can provide that for you."

"Cas, no he can't."

"Dean is very skilled. He will not let you-" Frustrated, I stood off the steps. Eye to eye with the man of the lord, I shook my head, "That's not what I meant. He's working, Castiel. Saving people, hunting things. If I'm there, he'll slip up. He'll get slowed down or distracted and if he's distracted on a hunt, he could get hurt. Badly, Cas. I can't get in the wa-"

"You are more important."

"What does that mean?" I nearly shouted. "Would you please stop being so vague?"

My head was reeling. Regardless of the fact that I now know the reason behind the dreams, the reason for lack of an archangel, I still had a dozen plus questions and Castiel seemed to have a habit of withholding answers. Picking my head up, I was met with an open room - the angel was gone. "Cas?"

"He does that a lot," Dean appeared in the doorway, tugging a cooler behind him. He dropped it by the fireplace and faced me. "He'll be back soon."

"I'll take your word for it."

Dean sat at the table and pulled out a thick, brown leather journal. Tattered pages, paperclips, and articles tucked inside stuck out of the binding. He unhooked the large strap that ran across the front and flipped the cover. He continuously tossed through the pages, occasionally stopping and reading for a moment. "John's journal."

Dean's eyes leapt to my face. "Yeah. So you've really seen everything? Everything Sam and I have ever done?"

"Not everything," I joined him at the table. "But the important things."

"Like?"

"Uh, Mary's death," at the mention of his mother, Dean's eyes hardened. His body went rigid. His jaw set. "I got clips and bits of your childhoods. I saw you learn to hunt…I saw John give you the Impala…I saw Sam go off to college, and the fight that ensued prior to that…I saw Cassie-"

"Cassie?" he asked. "So you see…that stuff too?"

My cheeks burned under his scrutinizing stare. I bit my lip and nodded, "That stuff too. But again, it's not like a movie I can watch at any time. It comes in images and sometimes short clips. Half the time it doesn't make sense. And it's never in sequence. At least not up until lately."

"What do you mean?" Dean mumbled.

"These last few months everything I've dreamt has been in order. From Sam killing Lilith up to you two fighting War," I clarified.

"Looks like you and Chuck are in the same boat then," Dean's eyes drifted back to the journal. My lips pursed, "Let's just hope it doesn't tip over."

Time passed quickly. It began to darken outside and wasn't until after seven that Castiel returned. I had just popped a beer from the cooler; an odd occurrence for me to do. Dean retrieved one as well and we raised them, muttered "cheers", and drank. Polishing them both off, I took them and threw them in the bin when I turned around, Castiel was standing in the middle of the living room, a rather ancient looking vas in his hands.

"Ah! Damnit! Stop doing that."

Dean lifted his head at my outburst. "Where've you been?"

"Jerusalem."

"Oh, how was it?"

Castiel gambled over to us, placing the urn on the table, "Arid."

"What's that?" I pointed to the vas. The angel met my eyes, "It's oil. It's very special. And very rare."

Dean snorted, "Great. We're gonna trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette? So this ritual of yours, when's it gotta go down?"

Castiel took my former seat, his hands falling limply into his lap. "Sun rise."

"Tell me something, you keep saying we're going to trap this guy but isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?" Dean's sarcastic wit never phased the angel but I couldn't help but break out in a grin. A very small grin, mind you, but a grin none-the-less. Cas replied, "No. It's harder."

"That's a comforting thought," I retorted, the smile now gone. Dean's eyes traveled my frame, a sympathetic face on, "Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

The angel nodded, "You two do."

"So, odds are you are a dead man tomorrow," though it was phrased like a question, it came out more like a statement. With an eerie calmness, Castiel agree, "Yes."

"Wow," Dean shook his head. He began to pace about the room. I peered between the two of them, contemplating a proper response to the newfound knowledge. Dean, however, decided to continue, "Well, last night on earth. What, uh, what are your plans?"

Castiel modestly answered, "I just thought I'd sit here quietly."

"What? No, Castiel. If tonight's it you gotta go out big," I told him. Dean nodded, giving me a playful nudge in the shoulder, "Damn straight. Dude, come on. Anything? Booze? Women?"

"Women and booze?" I offered with a smirk. For the first time ever, whether in a dream or reality, Castiel the warrior angel of Heaven, truly looked uncomfortable. He shifted in the chair, casting his head in the other direction. I shot Dean a confused expression. He leaned forward, "You have been with a women before? Right? Or an angel, at least?"

A hand shot up to the side of Castiel's neck. He rubbed vigorously, fidgeting like a junkie having withdrawals. My jaw dropped in doubt, "You've never been with someone? Never?"

"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud seeding?"

"I never had occasion, okay?" Castiel snapped in embarrassment. Dean snorted in query. He sauntered passed me, snatching up his jacket off the back of his chair. As he slid it on his shoulders, he spoke, "Alright. Let me tell you something. There are two things that I know for certain." He paused to adjust his collar. "One. Bert and Ernie are gay. Two. You are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

He dug the keys to the Impala out of his pants pocket and trudged out the door. Castiel's eyes were wide. He looked at me like a child unsure what to do on the first day of school. With a whimpering, "aw" I took the angel's hand. "Come on, Cas."

It was no surprise that Dean Winchester could be given a town and find a whorehouse within minutes. In fact, I wouldn't be shocked if he had already known where it was. Dean took the led and I guided Cas inside, nearly having to drag him. "I swear, Castiel, you're the only man I know who is diffident when it comes to sex."

Cas winced at the word, his large, round eyes scaling the room inch by inch. The walls were purple, the lights white and bright. A low, melodic tempo carried throughout the room. All around us there were woman in skimpy get-ups and thick pumps, men falling over themselves to get their attention. Various tables and booths were set up around an island bar in the middle. On the back left wall there was a curtain hanging. I assumed it led to the rooms where escorts took their clients. One particularly slutty woman walked by in a leopard two piece and I felt my respect for fellow woman swiftly decreasing.

"This way," Dean led us to a booth across from the bar, near the rooms. He took a seat and motioned over a waitress. I gave Castile a shove towards the chairs. He seemed nauseated but did so with no objects. The only seat left sat between them.

"Hello there," a red-headed girl, no more than seventeen or eighteen appeared. She had a huge, sly grin spread across her face. She was dressed in black leather, her breasts popping out, smiling too. Dean instantly had a boy-ish smile. "Hello to you too."

"What can I get you gentlemen? And lady?" she winked at me. Twitching backwards, my eyes widened. Dean, suppressing his laughter, replied, "Beer for me." He realized that Castiel was not going to order. "Him too."

"What about you, little missy?" she cooed. I grimaced, my stomach tumbling violently, "Nothing for me."

"Be right back," she turned and flaunted her ass back to the bar. "Well that was unpleasant."

"I think she'd like to have some fun with you," Dean beamed at me with some suggestive eyebrow movements. Tossing him a glare, I replied sweetly, "Bite me."

"She'll do it for me," he smirked. The waitress reappeared seconds later with their drinks. Castile wouldn't touch his, but in mere moments half of Dean's had mysteriously disappeared. All the while, Cas's wide eyes scanned the room, his body still bouncing with anxiety.

"Relax, Castiel," I rubbed his arm. "It'll be fine."

"This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here," he leaned over the table, his voice low and shaky. Dean took another sip, "Dude, you full on rebelled against Heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.…show time."

I followed his gaze to a tall, slender blonde slowly making her way toward us. Beside me, Castiel tensed. I gave his arm a light squeeze and watched her approach. "Hi…" she greeted our angel friend. "What's your name?"

Castiel's lips parted, his face paling slightly. I exchanged a fleeting look with Dean who rolled his eyes. "Cas. His name is Cas. What's your name?"

The busty woman smiled sweetly, "Chastity."

A concise laugh escaped my lips. "Chastity," Dean echoed. "Wow, is that kismet or what, buddy? Well you like him, and he likes you, so, have fun."

Chastity ran her hand down Castiel's shoulder resting in the crook of his elbow. In a soothing but sultry voice she encouraged him, "Come on, baby."

The angel's eyes were now full-on saucers and he looked like he was going to make a mad dash for the door at any second. Still, he stood much to my amazement and let himself be tugged along by the blonde woman in white. Suddenly, Dean stood too, "Oh hey."

Castiel stopped, his focus on Dean. Winchester retrieved a stack of twenties from his pocket, "Take this. If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay, do not order off the menu. Go get her, Tiger."

Dean shot Cas a wink, holding the money out to him. Castiel hesitated. "Don't make me push you." With those words, Cas took the money and disappeared behind the curtain. Dean turned around and grinned at me. Motioning for me to stand, he spoke, "Come on, I'll buy you a beer."