A/N: A snippet of dialogue is from 10x23 "Brother's Keeper," just because, and then some from 9x13 "The Purge."

Chapter 4: What's in a Soul?

Dean suggested a restaurant as the place for summoning Death. Sam made a grudging noise of acceptance before heading to Cas's pimpmobile and sliding in the front passenger seat.

Cas gave Dean a half-guilty shrug. "We'll just…follow you."

"Yeah, sure." Dean spun on his heel and stalked off toward where he'd parked the Impala. He wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling at the knowledge Sam and Cas had been driving around the mid-west working cases together. Was it jealousy? It'd always been Dean and Sam, Sam and Dean. And Baby. Now his brother had snubbed the Impala as much as Dean, and he couldn't help feeling a little hurt over it.

But at least Cas was looking after Sam. That was a good thing. Dean just…kinda missed them.

They drove a few blocks until they found a Mexican restaurant closed for the night. After parking in back, Dean got the summoning supplies from the trunk while Sam had gone ahead to pick the lock on the back door. The three of them made their way inside where Dean deposited his duffel bag on one of the tables.

"Fire up the stove," he told Sam.

"What? Dean, we have work to do."

He fought to hold back a scowl. "I've met with Death a few times. Trust me, we're gonna want food set out."

Sam continued giving him a blank look, so Dean headed to the kitchen and started perusing the refrigerator and shelves for what the restaurant had in stock. He should probably make a selection for Death to choose from.

Pots and pans clattered on the stove as Dean set them out and put a splash of oil in each. While those were warming up, he started spreading tomatoes, avocados, cheese, and seasonings on the counter.

The serving door swung open as Cas entered, the angel shuffling slightly in discomfort. "Can I help?" he finally asked.

"You can chop an onion." Dean rolled said vegetable across the counter toward Cas, who moved forward to catch it. When Cas reached for his angel blade, Dean just shook his head and passed him a kitchen knife.

"Sam's preparing the summoning spell," Cas said, voice hesitant as though he were trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Good," Dean replied. "Uh, how's he doing?"

"Sam is fine. His healing is complete."

Dean felt a wave of relief. He hadn't actually known Sam was still in rough shape after Gadreel had been exorcised, though it didn't come as a surprise. Again, Dean owed Cas for looking out for his brother.

He cleared his throat. "He's still mad at me."

Cas was silent for a beat, nothing but the sounds of a knife chopping and the sizzle from the pans filling the kitchen. "He's angry at a lot of people. And he feels guilty."

"I told him what happened to Kevin is on me," Dean half-growled. But of course Sam wouldn't listen.

"Neither of you killed the prophet," Cas said. "But you both blame yourselves." He glanced up with a pointed look, which Dean turned away from. "However," Cas continued. "I understand the feeling."

Dean didn't quite know what to make of that, but he left it alone in favor of finishing up the cooking. The sooner they got that done, the sooner they could summon Death and figure out what the hell was up with the Veil.

Cas wasn't very useful outside of chopping vegetables, so went out to help Sam finish up the summoning spell while Dean put the finishing touches on the dishes. Once ready, he carried the tray out and set it on the bar counter. Sam had painted the summoning symbol on one of the tables already, and the ingredients for the spell were mixed in a bowl set in the center of the rune. Now he was busy lighting candles placed around the edge of the symbol.

Dean joined him, scooping up the knife. "I got this part."

Sam just rolled his eyes, which, really?

Shoving aside his own mounting frustration, Dean slit the knife across his palm and dripped the blood into the bowl. "Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te in mea potestate defixi," he recited in Latin.

A rumble sounded from far off, and a few lights in the back started popping. Sam shifted nervously, while Cas took a small step closer to them.

"Nunc et in aeternum," Dean finished. The rumbling stopped, and he quickly wrapped his bleeding hand in a bandana while looking around expectantly.

"Don't tell me that's queso," a familiar voice spoke from behind.

The three of them whirled around to find Death standing in the restaurant, shrewd eyes skewering them.

"Yeah—yes," Dean stammered. He hurried to the bar counter and picked up the tray. "Queso and, uh, taquitos, tamales." He nervously brought the tray over. Dean may have had a few sit-downs with Death in the past, but he wasn't stupid enough to call themselves old pals.

"Homemade by yours truly," Dean continued to ramble. "All with the bad fat. Consider it an offering."

Death leaned forward to sniff the food. "For?" he asked, flicking his gaze back to Sam and Cas. Dean did not like the knowing look Death gave his brother.

Sam cleared his throat. "We, uh, need your help."

"I see. You know, I find it truly fascinating…" Death picked up a taquito and took a bite. "Mmm, that's good." He set the food item back on the tray and started walking to the other side of the room. "Is that you and I both know that I've been burned by you Winchesters before, yet you still call."

Dean swallowed his trepidation. "Yeah, I know, but not this time, okay? Besides, the reason we're calling has to do with your business."

Death arched a brow. "How so?"

"With Heaven closed, all the souls of people who die are getting stuck in the Veil," Sam put in. "And it's starting to tear."

"Yeah," Dean added, setting the tray down. "Ain't that your job to take care of?"

Sam shot him a bitch-face, and Dean quickly gave Death a contrite look.

"I mean, you're not locked out of Heaven, right?"

Death tutted as he strolled around the tables. "I can't ferry all the souls that die every minute of every day. There are just too many."

"But you can get into Heaven?" Sam asked.

Death shrugged mildly. "Yes. But as I said, there are too many souls. That's why I have reapers, and unfortunately, they are locked out."

Dean crossed his arms. "Okay, well, then can you just slip into Heaven and kill Metatron?"

Death leveled a condescending look his way. "Killing the Scribe will not reopen the gates of Heaven."

"Of course not," Dean muttered. "Well then what can we do? Because the Veil breaking down and spilling over into the human world is not a good thing. And we have enough problems with angels running around."

Death turned his sharpened gaze to Cas then, who'd been silent throughout this whole exchange. It belatedly occurred to Dean that the last time Cas had faced Death, it'd been when the Winchesters and Bobby had bound the guy in order to kill a hopped-up-on-souls Godstiel. Not good memories.

"I told you once before, Dean," Death intoned. "It's all about the souls."

Cas fidgeted under Death's unwavering gaze.

"Yeah, they're powerful and that's why the Veil is breaking," Dean retorted, taking a slight sidestep toward Cas. That business with the Purgatory souls had been a long time ago, and Dean really hoped Death wasn't holding some kind of grudge against Cas. Besides, Cas had been the one to unbind Death from the Winchesters. Of course, Death had still threatened him. Dean kinda wished now that he hadn't brought Cas along.

Death hummed thoughtfully. "Yes, very powerful." He finally broke his staring contest with Cas. "And I do happen to know that an angel's soul is a necessary component to unlocking Heaven."

Dean frowned, shooting his brother a confused look.

"Crowley translated that part of the Angel Tablet," Sam replied. "He said the spell was irreversible."

Death shrugged. "I don't know the details, but I assure you, an angel's soul is the key."

Dean shook his head. "Okay, well, great. So we just need an angel's grace. I vote for Metatron's."

"I said soul, not grace," Death pointed out sternly. "Pay attention."

"Then it is impossible," Cas finally spoke up. "Angels do not have souls."

Death lolled his sapient gaze back to Cas, expression knowing. "That is…mostly true. There is, however, one angel in all of Creation who possesses a soul." He began stalking toward Cas purposefully.

Cas looked anxious, but held his ground and lifted his chin stoutly. "My time as a human would not have given me a soul."

Death came to a stop mere inches from Cas. Dean and Sam exchanged wary glances.

"No," Death said. "The soul was yours from the beginning."

He raised a hand and stretched it out toward Cas's chest. Cas's throat bobbed, yet he didn't move. Neither did Dean, though his heart rate was spiking. What the hell was Death doing?

"God had been experimenting," Death continued, his palm hovering over Cas's sternum. "Creating something unique, not a human soul, nor strictly an angel's essence. A single, special, soul." Death lifted his brows. "It must be why God keeps bringing you back."

Cas was nearly shaking now. "N-no. That can't…"

Death finally stepped away. "You have the information you need to resolve the issue with the souls in the Veil and Heaven." He angled a pointed look straight at Dean. "Let's see if you can be smart in how you act on it."

And with that, he vanished, along with the tray of freshly cooked food. The air pressure in the room dropped drastically, and Dean hadn't realized his chest had felt as though it was being compressed. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, um…" That was enlightening. But what exactly were they supposed to do with that information?

Sam let out a disgusted noise. "I can't believe Crowley lied. I mean, I can believe it, except we'd had a deal!"

"I wouldn't be so quick to trust what Death said," Cas interjected, sounding rattled.

Dean didn't know what the big deal was. So, sure, Cas apparently had a soul, which no other angels did. Wasn't that actually kinda cool? And flattering maybe?

Dean pulled out his cell phone. "I'll double check with Crowley."

Sam's brows shot upward. "Since when are you buddy-buddy with the King of Hell?"

"Uh…" Dean rolled his shoulder awkwardly. "We did some hunting together. For the First Blade, a weapon that's supposed to kill Abaddon. And for Cain, the last guy who had it."

"What?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he scrolled through his recent calls list for '666.' "We didn't get anywhere." The line started ringing, and he held the phone up to his ear.

"Squirrel!" Crowley answered, sounding unnaturally chipper.

Dean frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"No! Though…if I was, wh-what's it to you?" he slurred.

Dean scowled. "Just focus for a second. When you translated the Angel Tablet for Sam, you told him the spell that cast the angels out of Heaven was irreversible."

He waited, but heard nothing except what sounded like Crowley blowing air bubbles with his lips.

"Crowley! What did the Tablet actually say? Did it say the reversal spell needed an angel's soul?"

"You pick up Elamite recently?" Crowley rejoined.

Dean clenched a fist. "Dammit, Crowley, answer the question!"

"Alright, alright. Hum…angel soul…yes, I believe that's what it said."

Oh, Dean was going to throttle him, temporary ally or not. "Then why'd you tell Sam it was irreversible?"

Crowley snorted. "Because angels don't have souls, you dimwit. Ergo, it's irreversible. Now call me when you get a lead on Cain."

Dean sputtered. "What? That's your—"

The line clicked. Dean jerked his phone away and stared at the blinking screen, signaling Crowley had hung up.

"Jackass," he muttered, and shoved the cell back into his pocket. He looked up to find Sam and Cas watching him. "Well," Dean said with a shrug. "Crowley doesn't think he lied, since he didn't think angels had souls anyway."

Sam just shook his head, whereas Cas looked a little green around the edges.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Dean asked.

Cas blinked slowly as though shellshocked. "If what Death said is true…then Naomi was right. I was made wrong."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Not wrong, Cas," Sam put in, using his gentle tone most often reserved for traumatized victims. "Just different."

Cas let out a soft snort. "Then why didn't God make more angels like me? No, Sam, more likely he realized I was a mistake. An aberration."

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Come on, man, you don't believe that. And you heard Death: why then would the Big Man keep bringing you back?"

"As punishment, remember?"

"Wait, what?" Sam glanced between them questioningly.

Dean shook his head, not having time to explain that backstory to his brother. "Look, Cas, all that shit is in the past. You need to let it go." They had other problems now.

Cas's jaw was tight as he looked away, but then he seemed to compose himself. "We need to find out the rest of what the Tablet said."

"Yeah, but Gadreel took everything," Dean pointed out. "The Tablet and all of Kevin's notes."

Cas flicked a look at Sam. "I suppose it's time we see if I made a mistake. I'll contact Gadreel, see if he's willing to help us."

Now it was Dean's turn to glance between his brother and friend, lost. He shot up a hand. "Hold up, you have a way to contact Gadreel? And what the hell makes you think that dickbag is gonna help?"

Sam was now looking at the floor, while Cas steeled himself to meet Dean's gaze.

"We've already tracked Gadreel down and…had a conversation. I believe his help will be vital to taking down Metatron."

Dean's eyes widened. "Let me get this straight. You two hunted down the bastard that killed Kevin…and had a chat?" He threw a sharp look at Sam. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"It was my call," Cas interjected.

"Oh, it was your—"

"You weren't there," Sam suddenly snapped. He took a breath, and fixed Dean with a harsh glare. "And given what we know now, I agree with Cas; Gadreel might be our only way to get Kevin's notes back."

Dean gaped at him incredulously. They were gonna turn to that lying piece of shit that killed Kevin and kidnapped Sam? Hadn't they learned their lesson from Dean's mistake?

Sam turned to Cas. "I should go with you," he said quietly, as though Dean wasn't standing right there.

Cas flicked an uncertain look at him, and Dean turned away in a feigned attempt to give them privacy, though he could still hear them.

"It's alright, Sam. I think you and Dean should try to work things out."

Sam huffed in frustration. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will." Cas nodded to Dean, and then turned to exit out the back.

"Guess the band's back together," Dean said after Cas had gone. Sam did not appear amused.

"What did Cas mean by the punishment thing?"

Dean bit back a sigh. "Oh, just some crazy shit he said back when he didn't have all his marbles." Dean twirled a finger at the side of his head. "He thought each time he was brought back after dying was worse than the last, and so a punishment or something."

Sam frowned.

"Which I think is bull," he added. When his brother didn't respond, Dean cleared his throat. "Look, Sam," he said softly. "I know you're still pissed. But I saved your hide at that church…and the hospital. I may not think things all the way through. Okay? But what I do, I do because it's the right thing. I'd do it again."

Sam shook his head almost sadly. "And that…is the problem. You think you're my savior, my brother, the hero. You swoop in, and even when you mess up, you think what you're doing is worth it because you've convinced yourself you're doing more good than bad… But you're not."

Dean stared at him blankly. Okay, yeah, there had been some pretty bad consequences, but Sam was alive. Couldn't his brother see that?

"I mean, Kevin's dead," Sam continued, voice growing more vehement. "Cas got captured and tortured by angels because you refused to let him stay with us. And all we have at beating this angel thing is a long shot. So, please tell me, what is the upside of me being alive?"

Dean's jaw went slack. "You kidding me? You and me—fighting the good fight together."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh, and looked ready to storm out, but then he whirled sharply toward Dean, making him draw back subconsciously.

"Okay. Just once, be honest with me. You didn't save me for me. You did it for you."

Dean shot him a confused look. "What are you talkin' about?"

"I was ready to die," Sam insisted. "I was ready. I should have died, but you…you didn't want to be alone. And that's what all this boils down to. You can't stand the thought of being alone."

Dean blinked at him in bewilderment, and swallowed hard. "Alright."

Sam snorted. "I'll give you this much. You are certainly willing to do the sacrificing as long as you're not the one being hurt."

Dean bristled. "Alright, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing."

Sam looked away, and his response was so soft that Dean almost didn't hear it. "No, Dean, I wouldn't."

Dean felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

Sam looked up to meet his eyes. "Same circumstances…I wouldn't." He turned on his heel and headed for the door. "I'll meet you at the car."

Dean stared after him, too shocked to follow. He'd screwed up, Dean knew that. But for Sam to…for him to turn his back like that, after everything…

Well, hadn't Sam done the same thing when Dean had been stuck in Purgatory? Maybe it was true, maybe Dean didn't want to be alone. But no matter how hard he tried, Sam was always leaving. First with Stanford, then other times along the road. What exactly was Dean holding onto?

Shoving the supplies for the spell back into the duffel bag, Dean shuffled after his brother. He had half a mind to look up Crowley again and resume the search for Cain. Sam obviously didn't want him around.

But Dean couldn't leave his brother stranded now that Cas had gone off on a mission. Looked like it would be a long drive back to the bunker.