The Beginning of the End

Notes: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who liked/reviewed/read! You guys are awesome and I'm so glad you like the story so far. Please forgive any mistakes and enjoy :)

This world makes you crazy

And you've taken all you can bear

Just call me up

'Cause I'll always be there

Dean groaned. His head held a familiar ache, his eyes stinging. It took him a few moments to realize he was laying in a bed - or a couch maybe? Dean groaned again, last night was either awful or awesome… either way, Sammy was going to -

Dean's eyes snapped opened against the burning light. Dean registered that he was in an unfamiliar environment. He was, indeed, on a couch - he looked around, blinking the water from his eyes. Where the hell were Sam and Bobby? Where the hell was he?

"Have no fear, Dean."

Dean snapped up again, propelling himself up with his arm and locking onto the other man in the room. Dean's eyes narrowed, half in suspicion, half because the overhanging light hurt.

There was a guy standing on the other side of the room, looking ruffled but… professional in a standard business suit and tan trench coat. He had pale-ish skin, black hair… and… and blue eyes. What. The. Hell.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, his voice gruff from sleep - or unconsciousness rather.

He forced his eyes to scan the rest of the room. Vaguely he noted they were alone. The room was also rather beautiful. Twinkling chandeliers cast light down on the well-kept furniture and tables, which were lined with fruits and wine. Plants crawled the walls, flowers scenting the room with fresh cleanliness. But, despite how pretty it was, there was an eerieness about it. A sense of wrong that clung to the air and poisoned the atmosphere - it looked like a set, it didn't feel real.

"Castiel," the man said simply.

Right, 'cause that cleared everything up. Dean looked the man up and down, he didn't seem to be playing with him, like many monsters did. He seemed, surprisingly genuine in his words and demeanor.

"What are you?" Dean tried instead. Consciously, Dean rose from the couch, eyes never leaving the monster. But - he didn't really get the 'I'm about to tear out your throat and eat your heart' vibe from this guy. In fact, he seemed much more curious than threatening.

"I'm an angel of the Lord," Casi-whatever said, with an impressively straight face.

"Yeah," Dean said, unimpressed. "And I'm the freakin' tooth fairy."

The man scrunched up his eyes and tilted his head.

"No, you aren't," he said, his tone very serious, like a doctor talking to a crazy patient. "I believe that rogue fae was killed by a hunter months ago."

Great, he was dealing with an actual idiot.

"Right, whatever," Dean caved, he didn't have time for this. He'd let the man pretend he was the damn second coming if it got him to Sam. "What happened to Sam and Bobby?"

"Of course," Castiel said, nodding. "My apologies. Your friend and your soulmate are completely uninjured, I assure you."

Dean froze. This guy… he just referred to Sam as his soulmate. What in seven fucks was going on here?

"How…," Dean asked warily. This added a whole new layer to the problem. Was it blackmail this guy was after? Dean knew he had to be more careful now. "How'd you know that?"

"Well, Hannah told me they were, I could check personally but I trust her expe-"

"No, no, no," Dean crossed his arms in the universal 'time out'. "How did you know about… about me and Sam? And why the hell can I see your eyes?"

"I would have explained if your self-delusion of being a fae hadn't interrupted."

Right.

"As I stated, I am an angel, therefore I am soulless and without a lifemate," he said. "I harbor only grace, which is visible to humans in diluted form. Many angels have different coloured grace - mine happens to be blue so you perceive my eyes to be that colour. As to your first question, all angels know of you and your brother."

Obviously. Dean blinked once, then again.

"What happened?" Dean demanded, forcing himself to harden his voice. He was a hunter - he was trained to accept, adapt, move on. And when you couldn't adapt or make sense of a situation you shoved it away and focused on the larger problem.

"My sister, Hannah, possessed the one you call Bobby to-"

"Possessed?" Dean said, and yes, his voice may have gone up an optic, so what. "I thought demons possessed people."

"Both angels and demons perform possession to interact with humans, Dean," Castiel said, patiently. "However, angels must have the consent of the human before they may possess them."

"Bobby would never-,"

"It's amazing," Castiel said, definitely quieter now. "What a person would do when faced with their long-dead soulmate."

"You son of a bitch," Dean said. He was furious on Bobby's behalf, but he had to stay on task. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam is where you left him," Castiel said. "However, it's not important right now."

"Look, Castiel."

"Dean," Castiel interrupted. "You have asked every question expect 'why'. May I explain why you are here?"

Dean didn't want to agree with his captor on anything, but he did want to know. He breathed a little easier, hearing Sam was fine. Probably having a grade A fit, but fine. Well, that was if this guy could be trusted. Dean quickly worked out that this must the 'boss' of whatever was happening, as he had apparently sent another - Hannah - to do his dirty work.

"Go ahead," Dean said, shrugging. Best not show to much interest.

Castiel nodded. "Dean, I understand that many concepts are difficult to grasp at the moment. I know you don't believe me when I say I'm an angel, but I am. Angels, demons, likely every myth you've read has roots in truth. There is a biblical apocalypse darkening our horizon, Dean. The horsemen have mounted and the saviors have been chosen with heavenly fire. The wheels of the end have turned and the angels have risen to claim the sword."

Dean got about half of that. "Awesome. When are you taking me back to my brother?"

"You misunderstand," Castiel said. "You, Dean Winchester, are the sword of Heaven and shall champion as our savior."

Dean's gaze locked onto the - angel's. He still didn't understand exactly what this man was talking about, but he did understand that he wasn't getting anywhere. He had to play this game, but first, if only for his own mind, he needed to know if this was a game at all.

"You're an angel, huh?" Dean said, purposely injecting a challenge into his voice. "Prove it."

Castiel didn't smile, but a look of… something akin to it ghosted his face. He took a step back and closed his eyes. The lights flickered, pulling shadows around the room like puppets. Castiel opened his eyes, only for them to glow with blue fire, his shoulders rolled back and rogue, stormless lightning flashed across the room, silhouetting…

Two wings.

Two huge, encompassing black wings that spanned the entire length of the back wall. The shadowed wings folded in a few feet before extending to the full capable wingspan of - well, an angel. Two black feathers fell softly to the ground, somehow making the wings feel aged - battle-worn and powerful.

Slowly, the lights returned to their normal constant and the shadow faded into light. The glow of Castiel's eyes dimmed until they were back to their ocean colour. Castiel then raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'believe me now?'

Sam felt alone. He hated that feeling, truly and deeply loathed it.

He had returned to the house, only to find his brother gone and Bobby passed out on the floor. When the older hunter came to, he had very little explanation for Dean's sudden disappearance. All he said was they were hunting a monster that could shape-shift and possess people, but not a demon. Sam was at a complete loss. He had a feeling that Bobby was holding something back, but he trusted the man to tell him if it was truly important.

Sam had called their dad, about a hundred times, leaving just as many voicemails with no results. When he tried Dean's cell, it just rang from the coffee table. Sam was desperately trying to figure out the 'why' in Dean's capture.

"The most essential tool you have is your mind and your ability to figure out the whys. Every single crime has one and only one constant - a motive. Now, motives can vary, of course, but there is a motive in everything we do. If you find the motive, you find the criminal."

Professor. Brooke had gone on and on about motives for the entire length of Sam's Stanford career. Sam almost wished he could send the guy an email like he used to, asking for advice. He still had his professor's last email to him saved on his phone, asking if he was okay, when was he coming back, does he need anything…

Sam was not a solitary person, but he would and did trade every friend he had for his brother and now he didn't even have him. Bobby had been out of it since Dean was taken, but he had put a hunter APB out and was doing his own research at the local library.

Sam ran a hand down his face, pushing away the nagging thought of drinking. That was his father's and brother's coping mechanism and he needed to be firing on all cylinders then.

Sam was about to go grab another book that would be absolutely useless before a ringing stopped him. Turning, he eyed his vibrating phone, his eyebrows snapping up as he read 'Dad' across the small screen. Snatching it up, Sam flipped it open and pressed it against his ear.

"Dad-"

"Hey Sammy," the other voice said, definitely not his father. This was a woman's voice and not a friendly one by the tone.

"Who the hell are you and where's my dad?" Sam demanded.

"Hmm," the woman said. "I'm hurt, Sammy, don't you remember me? Oh, come on, you know you recognize me."

"I don't," Sam ground out. The voice did have a fleeting ring of familiarity, but he couldn't place it.

"I'll give you a hint - sexy short hair, truck-hopping daredevil."

"...Meg?" Sam asked, pleading to be wrong.

"The one and only, Sammy," she said. "Now, listen and if you're a good little boy, you might just get your pretty big brother back."

"I'll kill you," Sam promised. "If Dean doesn't first."

"Is that really how you talk to the demon holding a knife to your brother?"

"What do you want?" Sam asked, cool dread wrapping it's long fingers around his stomach and pulling him into a sense of despair. "And where's my dad?"

"I want you. 4509, Washington Road, Bakersville, South Dakota. You be there by three or Dean pays the price," the demon said, and Sam could almost hear the sick smile. "And Sammy? You'll never see your father again."

Click.

Sam breathed, tried to control the rapid breaths ripping through him. He was still shaking with both anger and fear as he dialed Bobby's number.

He pressed the wrong buttons twice before he got it right, after rapidly filling in the other hunter, Sam closed the phone and went to pour a drink.

He didn't pour enough to really do anything more than ease the tension slightly - he had a feeling he'd need it.

Sam willed Bobby to hurry, it was already one o'clock and Sam knew Bakersville was at least a two-hour drive.

Still, there were a million questions floating around his mind, when confronted each question would break into two more and nothing would be answered. Sam couldn't grasp why his family was so cursed - had he offended some deity in a past life? Not that Sam believed in reincarnation but - that was totally beside the point.

It always seemed that when the bad hit, it hit hard and didn't stop until they were completely shattered.

"Sam."

Sam turned to see Bobby standing in the doorway, face flushed from his obvious hast. By the clock, Sam could tell Bobby speed the entire drive here. Not that he was going to complain.

"Bobby, we have to go," Sam said, rising to grab his jacket and messenger bag.

"Now wait a damn minute," Bobby said. "Let's be at least halfway smart about this."

"What?" Sam dismissed. "We need to go now if we want to meet Meg's deadline, now she never mention coming alone but I think I'd be best-"

"Sam," Bobby interrupted. "Just listen, would you? You said that Meg called herself a demon, right? Well, I know demons and what took your brother was no demon."

"So she got something else to do her dirty work, so what?" Sam said. "Demons do that, you know."

"No," Bobby shook his head. "This doesn't feel right, Sam. Meg made a point to meet you personally - why? And if she wanted you, why'd she take or have Dean taken? Why not snatch you and skip off?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I know this is a trap, she told me that. But she says she has Dean and she definitely has - has dad. And even if she doesn't have Dean, she damn well knows who does. I can feel it, Bobby."

"Still don't like it," Bobby said, grabbing an unopened beer from the table and exiting the room, stopping only to look over at Sam. "You comin', boy?"

Sam smiled, wondering how he and Dean survived the last few years without Bobby. The other hunter had begun loading the car with weapons while Sam set about looking up directions to this meeting place. Apparently, it was some old warehouse.

How original, Sam thought dryly. Sam couldn't think about the last line Meg told him.

He and his father may have not always gotten along, but he did love him. He knew what losing a soulmate did to people and he knew that he and Dean could have had it a lot worse. Everyone has the capacity to love. Those who have never known real love, have a very small part of their heart to fill and even the slightest summer love can make them impossibly happy. But the love of a soulmate… it carves itself into every part of your being, making your entire happiness lean on one other soul - the fire of that love keeps you happy even in the darkest times. For that fire to be gone and that enormous hole to be empty - Sam couldn't even imagine.

In order to feel that amount of unimaginable happiness, one had to make themselves vulnerable to sadness in equal measure.

John may not have raised him like Dean did, but he did protect him in his own right. John may not have always been the best parent, but he never raised a hand to him. There were a few times he came close but… He just couldn't think about all that right now. They had work to do first.

"Do I really have to explain how much that isn't going to happen again?" Dean threw out. He was pacing the room, his hands itching to grab a weapon he knew he didn't have.

Castiel, the bastard, didn't even seem fazed by Dean defiance or sarcasm. "If it would please you to do so."

"It would please me to get the hell back," Dean growled.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible at this time."

"You know what?" Dean turned on the angel. "You sound like a broken check-out machine."

Castiel, again, didn't even seem to understand he was being insulted. He just stood there with his ridiculously crooked coat and perpetually perplexed look on his face.

"Look, man," Dean said, schooling his tone to be more civil. "I'm telling you, you got the wrong guy, okay? Believe me, I'm not righteous in anyone's book. Much less God's."

"I disagree," Castiel said, his tone responding to Dean's and softening as well. "In fact, you should be grateful for this turn of events, Dean."

Dean snorted, "that right?"

Castiel nodded solemnly, "If Zachariah had been followed, the great plan would involve you spending years in Hell."

Dean's eyes flicked up, because yeah, that kind of got to him.

"Dean," Castiel said. "You are the righteous man. All you must do is destroy the Four Horsemen and collect their rings then give them to us."

"And why would I do that?"

"So a weapon may be released and we can end the apocalypse once and for all before it even starts," Castiel said. "I cannot directly interfere but I can act as a source of guidance and information."

"So what," Dean started. "I-I do this and I get back to Sam?"

"I swear it," Castiel vowed.

"When?" Dean asked after a beat of silence, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. "When would this fight go down?"

"It isn't a fight as much as a hunt," Castiel said. "Swear to me you will complete this task and I shall send you back to your soulmate."

Dean's eye twitched at Sam's title. "I swear on my-"

"Sam's."

"What?"

"You must swear on your soulmates life," Castiel said, his tone soft but final. "His life means much more to you than your own. And know this Dean, a swear to an angel is just as binding as a deal with a demon."

Dean hesitated. He had no clue what a Horsemen was, no idea how to kill it, and no way of knowing if this was even a good thing. He couldn't just put Sam's life on the line because some dude with flashy wings spun a story.

"Nah," Dean said. "Sorry, buddy, but Sam's life ain't up for grabs."

"Very well," Castiel said and turned away. Some might think it was a subtle show of power, but Dean saw it more as… hiding, which confused him. "But as we speak your brother is marching into battle against a horde of demons."

Dean snapped into place, striding to the angel and ganking him around by the shoulder. His eyes held fire and he wanted Castiel to see that.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your brother and your friend are going to die within ten minutes if I don't intervene."

"Then you fucking intervene!" Dean's voice rose steeply. He couldn't believe he'd been chatting it up while Sam was in danger. "You said he was safe, you fucking liar."

"He was safe when I stated he was," Castiel said calmly. "And he will stay safe if you swear."

Dean couldn't - too many variables. Was Sam actually in danger? But what if he was and Dean did nothing.

"Sam first," Dean said desperately, "We save Sam first and then I swear - just, we save Sam first. I swear on that."

Castiel seemed to considered, which pissed Dean off because they were down to nine minutes. "I suppose that would be reasonable."

Dean didn't have time to respond before Castiel touched his forehead and white light overtook once him again.

Sam knew the meeting was a trap, but he didn't expect this. In all of Sam's hunting experience, he'd never actually faced a demon. Much less five.

He and Bobby stood accusingly vulnerable in the middle of the warehouse. They were armed with guns that did nothing against demons and exorcisms that were too long to be effective.

Meg was standing in front of them, her blood red lips pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. Sam's father was laying on the ground near her feet, but his chest was still rising and falling, easing a degree tension from Sam's shoulders. There was a spot of dark blood over his chest but it obviously didn't hit anything vital. Sam noted that they'd need to take him to the hospital when they got out. If they got out.

Two demons flanked Meg on either side and two demons were standing guard at the door, completely boxing them in.

Just one thing was missing. The most important damn thing.

Dean was nowhere to be found.

"Where the hell is my brother," it wasn't a question.

"No idea," Meg said, flippantly. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we started without him."

"You lying bitch," Sam said his tone low and dangerous as he took a step forward.

"What'd you expect?" Meg tapped her nose. "I am a demon after all."

"Sam," Bobby's voice drew his attention. Sam knew what he was trying to convey without words - they weren't muscling their way out of this one. Sam also understood one of the most staple rules of hunting - if you can't fight run and if you can't run, stall until you can. Meg was clearly on a mission but she didn't seem overly concerned with time.

Her stance was lazy, confident. Her eyes were the false gray of her vessel's but the colour seemed darker than it should have been. They wrinkled at the edges with her smile - like she knew she won and for all Sam knew, she had.

"I believed you," Sam said, forcing himself not to look at his father. That would not only show weakness but give Meg more power in drawing her attention to the incapacitated man. "I knew it was all a setup but I believed you had Dean. Tell me, how did you know he was missing?"

"Hm," Meg said. "That's sweet, Sam. You know, I've heard you were the more… sensitive of the Winchesters."

"That was your mistake, I guess," Sam said, he could feel sweat beading on his neck but he refused to show any weakness to the demon. He needed to keep her hooked. He knew that she knew he was stalling with abandon. But if he could keep the conversation laced with truth and a truth she would fear - he could buy some time. He also couldn't help but notice she blatantly avoided his question.

"What?" Meg's eye twitched, obviously disliking the natural curiosity Sam's statement invoked.

"Well, I mean," Sam swallowed, calm, he reminded himself. "Dean isn't here, right? But I am here and he'll come for me - then kill you."

There was one second, one second that Meg paused, a looking flashing too quickly for him to decipher. One second, but then she laughed and shook her head. But Sam could tell it rattled her, if only for a second. It might not have been the words, she probably didn't fear Dean in the slightest - it was the unimaginable confidence in Sam's voice. Because Dean always came for him, even when he really shouldn't - even when it wasn't worth it. And Sam knew he always would.

"Sure," Meg said. "Now, Sam, I did have a reason for calling you here."

"And that would be?" Sam schooled his features into the cool mask of indifference that his brother and father adopted so often. "'Cause so far all you've been is a lying bitch."

Meg twitched her head, appearing amused. "True, but-,"

Meg paused and flicked her eyes up as if she was listening to a sound he couldn't hear. Sam glanced at Bobby, noting the confusion on his face before turning back to Meg. Her lips parted suddenly right before bright white light filled the room.

Then several things happened at once, Meg screamed - a horrible screeching sound, and Sam felt his ears pop. Light burned his eyes and he pressed his forearm against them to lessen the impact. Sam thought he might have blacked out for a moment. Someone was yelling… something and Sam strained to understand the jumbled words. He heard Bobby yell something he couldn't make out before he adjusted his hold on his gun. He pushed himself off his knees and into a standing position. Still without the slightest clue of what was going on, Sam forced his eyes open and was met with a battle scene.

Sam immediately zeroed in on the figure rushing towards him - intense green eyes met his as strong hands grabbed his shoulders. Sam didn't realize how much he needed the support until he had it. He was confused to the point he just accepted his brother had magically appeared to save his lame ass. For all he knew Dean argued with the freakin' universe until it zapped him where he wanted to go.

"Dean," Sam gasped out. "What the-"

"They're dead."

Sam spun to the gravelly voice he didn't recognize. Instantly straightening from Dean's hold and raising his gun. His vision was still slightly blurred from the unnaturally bright light but he could make out the figure of a man. "Who…"

"This is Castiel," Dean said, laying a hand on his shoulder, his voice rough. Gently, Dean pressed his hand over the gun and pushed it down, signaling that Sam didn't need it.

Sam blinked, Dean didn't see man as an active threat so he allowed his gaze to wander. His eyes flickered to Bobby, who wore a mixture of relief, apprehension, and disbelief. His gaze went to his father next, finally realizing he wasn't being guarded and Sam rushed to him - or tried to.

Before he could Dean grip on his shirt stopped him. He looked back at his brother with a 'what?' look. The expression invading his brother's face poured ice in his veins. Dean shook his head just slightly, his green eyes wet but controlled. Dean's shoulders were set, his teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw twitching. Sam felt his breathing speed up because he knew that look and he had to be reading it wrong, he had to be.

"Dean," Sam said, his voice weak. "Dean."

"Sammy, we got-"

"He was breathing," Sam said, panic bleeding into his tone. "Just a minute ago he was - he was breathing."

"He was possessed," the other guy, Castiel, spoke again. Sam didn't even look at him.

"Look at the bullet wound," Bobby said, his tone softer than he'd ever heard it before. "No one could survive that, boy."

"No," Sam choked, rebelling against the truth setting deep in his skin. "No."

"We need to leave," Castiel spoke yet again. "More demons will come and I can't shield you all while fighting them."

Dean nodded solemnly, grabbing Sam's wrist and pulling.

"I," Dean said. Sam knew he was unsure, he knew he wanted direction, he knew he wanted to fall apart, be he couldn't. He needed to stay strong so Sam could too. They were both acting as each other's strength - they didn't stay strong because they wanted to, they did it so the other could.

"You go ahead with the Impala," Bobby instructed, seeing the need for a leader and easily slipped into hunter-mode, even if his tone wavered and his hands shook. "Get back to my place and I'll jump a car and follow."

with your father, was left unsaid.

Dean nodded and grabbed Sam tighter, leading him away from the whole scene. Castiel was silent, he didn't really sound upset but he seemed to catch the serious, morbid air of the room and respected it.

As Dean lead him, dazed, back to the car, Sam felt awful for just not… responding. He knew he should offer to drive, he knew he shouldn't be making Dean do the work but he just… he couldn't find it within himself. He tried, but he couldn't.

Dean sat behind the wheel for a full minute before finally slipped the keys into the ignition. The car revved, but it sounded slower somehow as if even the car didn't want to leave her old driver. Sam's face was hot and he knew he was crying. He couldn't deny that his father was dead. Not anymore.

He'd probably been dead before he even spoke to Meg. He was possessed and Sam should have realized that wound was fatal, he should have… he knew he should have questions by the thousands but he didn't. His questions half-formed in his mind before slipping away and leaving him drained.

The car ride was the worst he ever had. Dean played no music, not one song, his eyes never left the road, save for a few times they flickered over Sam. Sam switched between staring out the side window and the windshield. His brother didn't stop once on the drive back to Bobby's, which was pushing it where gas was concerned. Dean usually threw a fit when they didn't gas up the car often - it could damage the engine, as Dean said. But he truly didn't seem to even notice or care.

First mom, then Jess, now dad - Sam leaned back against the seat. For the first time in a very long time, the dark, toxic thoughts of Sam's mind pulled him to the folklore on siblings being soulmates. They jeered and pointed out the similarities between him, Dean, Michael, and Lucifer. Maybe Dean was wrong, maybe the tales were right. After all, most legends were true when viewed in the right lighting. Maybe they were cursed, wrong, a perversion of holiness.

Sam felt relief and dread when the car finally slowed, pulling into the old salvage lot. Relief to get out of the confined space, and dread because every second he didn't wake up reinforced the nightmare's reality.

There were three more words spoken the rest of the night. Three.

The first was spoken by Dean. Dean gently laid a hand on his back and led him into the house. They were waiting for Bobby, who was about twenty minutes behind if Sam guessed right. Dean immediately started in the kitchen. He sat Sam down at the table, Sam didn't have the energy to protest independence right then. Dean cooked something, not because either of them were hungry but because Dean took care of people, that's just what he did, and cooking was an easy way to do that. After making some kind of heated-up sandwich he laid it in front of Sam.

"Eat," it was not a command nor a requested, it was a plea and Sam knew it. Sam wasn't hungry but he bit into the food, chewed, and swallowed, though he'd never remember what was in it. To him, it was tasteless and heavy in his mouth.

The second word was spoken by Bobby. The older hunter arrived with red-rimmed eyes twenty-three minutes later, glancing at both boys before leaving again. Dean went to follow but Bobby gave him a look. Sam couldn't see his brother's face, but he didn't have to. Bobby wasn't going to let sons build their father's funeral pyre.

Thirty-eight minutes past before Bobby returned with dirty hands and muddy boots. They followed the hunter then and stood next to the much-too-familiar wooden structure. A true hunter's funeral and damn if their dad didn't deserve it. Sam could see a figure in the middle wrapped in a white sheet but it didn't make it any easier, he still knew who was under that innocent little sheet.

"Okay," Bobby said under his breath. He stepped forward and flicked open a metal lighter. The man hesitated one moment before he threw it onto the wood. Bobby must have used a generous amount of gasoline because it caught and roared to power with seconds.

The next word was spoken by Sam. When every single ember faded to charcoal, Bobby nodded and headed back. Dean's face hadn't changed and Sam knew that was from necessity rather than want. Sam touched his brother's shoulder and watched Dean facade crumble. His chest shuttered and his hand grasped Sam's arm.

Sunlight was absent from the sky, the stars dulled sadly. Sam couldn't look away from Dean's eyes. He was looking up, trying and failing to contain tears - his eyes were a weeping ocean to Sam's interpretation. Dean's eyes were the most beautiful sight Sam knew and seeing them saturated with such deep sadness caused his soul to ache. Sam just brushed his hand over Dean's chest and nodded to the house.

Dean, of course, understood and they walked silently together. Bobby didn't say a word, didn't even look up from the table as Sam and Dean headed to the same upstairs room. Bobby's house had two guest rooms - one downstairs that Sam usually used and one upstairs that Dean used. But Bobby didn't say one word as they both scaled the stairs.

Likened to a trance, Sam chucked his shoes off as Dean did the same. He sat on the soft sheets knowing sleep wasn't an option he wanted, but this night wasn't about sleep.

"Dean," Sam offered softly. Just as with Dean's word, Sam's was a plea. A plea to accept and give comfort, to slap a temporary patch on their lives and desperately pray it holds against the hurricane winds threatening them.

Dean could never deny that plea and laid down next to his little brother. Sam understood, in their strange bond, they weren't soulmates that night - they were brothers who just lost their father. And because of that, Dean hadn't one qualm with pulling his brother close and just soaking in the broken comfort he offered. Sam let his eyes slip closed, resting his open palm on Dean's chest and turning his mind off.

The clock flashed 7:00 am in red letters when Dean finally found the strength to untangle himself from his restlessly sleeping brother. Pulling on his leather jacket, Dean slipped out of the grieving house unnoticed.

Standing beside the hood of the Impala, just where he knew he would be, stood Castiel.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted, toneless, cold, uncaring.

"What if I don't?" Dean questioned sharply not having the time, patience, or energy to beat around the bush. "What if I say 'fuck you' and leave."

"Then Sam will die."

Dean tensed because any threat to Sam made him tense. "What, some blast of holy lightning'll burst from the sky and zap him?"

"No," Castiel said. "I would kill him."

Dean stepped forward and clocked the angel. Dean's hand ached furiously but he boxed it away. The angel didn't even seem fazed.

"Be smart for a moment, Dean," Castiel said, his eyes seeming to pierce straight though his skin. "You just bared witness to myself smiting four demons as if they were ants. Do you stand any chance against me?"

Dean seethed with anger. "You missed two, jackass."

"They aren't of consequence," Castiel waved. "Now cease stalling and swear. I showed you good faith today, Dean. I held my end, now you must hold yours or the consequences will be steep."

Dean could feel his vision tinting red, but he knew no matter how much he screamed and argued, Castiel wasn't changing his price. Dean hated this with a raging fire. He could swear and possibly dangle Sam's life over a cliff or not swear and have him killed outright.

Dean did the only thing he could do - the only thing his soul let him do, what he always did.

He protected. He served. He obeyed.

"I swear."

He swore.