Author's Note: Sorry it's a bit late! I've decided on a schedule: expect it to be updated every three to four days. I'll be taking a small break after chapter 5 (only about 5 days), so be ready for that. This chapter was a bit harder to write, but I hope you like it! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Supernatural.

Enjoy!

"And they all have apparently suffered from severe head injuries after the asteroids hit, as they keep talking about being angels who have lost their Grace," the doctor reports.

"Oh, those poor, poor souls. How did they get hurt?" the newscaster asks.

"The force most likely caused an earthquake."

"Well, our hearts go out to all of those affected by this devastation. Back to you, Darla."

Dean jabs the pause button on the mouse pad, and the video on the screen stops. He turns to Sam. "So? What should we do with them?"

Sam sighs and rubs his hand on his forehead. He still hasn't recovered from the trials. "Well, there's not much we CAN do right now. We're trying our best, Dean. I mean, Kevin's translating the angel tablet to figure out how to get their Grace back. That's about it."

Dean groans and stands. He begins pacing around the table. "So, what, we just sit on our asses and wait?" he mutters. He stops, staring at his brother. "I mean, isn't there ANYTHING we can do?" he asks desperately. "Something to just speed up the process?"

Sam bites his lip, thinking. Dean's right. They've been cooped up in here for days, with their only source of information about the outside world being the computer. It had been too risky to go outside, as they thought the angels may have a grudge against them (and really, who could blame them?), but maybe now it was safe?

His eyes suddenly light up. "We could question them," he announces, shutting the computer with an act of finality. "See if they know anything about Metatron or returning their Grace."

Dean draws his eyebrows together. "But there are God-knows how many of them, and we have no clue where they are since the trackers in the room over shorted out."

Sam shrugs. "They're all over the place. We don't have to interview all of them, just a small portion in the nearest hospital."

Dean nods slowly. "But how do we know which ones are angels? Or, fallen angels, I mean?"

Sam pauses a moment and concentrates. He smiles. "Charlie could hack into the hospital's computer system."

Dean grins. "Good idea. Go email her."

Sam flips open the laptop and presses compose. "You think she's still using the same address?"

"It's our best shot."

"You appear to have adapted well, considering you've only been in the 21st century for several weeks," Castiel says, nodding to Abaddon's cellphone.

Abaddon frowns. "I don't trust this 'internet' phenomenon," she mumbles, absorbed in a game of solitaire.

Castiel sighs and holds his head in his hands, trying once again to come up with a way out of this situation. There's still about an hour left on the bus ride and he's unable think of anything. It seems inevitable that he'll have to bring her to the Winchesters...

No. He cannot let that happen. He must find some way to trick her, to send her on a different path. But how?

He focuses his every fiber on his mind, searching through the vast caverns of his brain to come up with something, anything. But, as he does this, a new feeling rises up inside him. He pauses in his concentration for a moment, placing this emotion as...anxiety. Extreme anxiety. He feels as if he can't do anything right, that no matter what he tries to do to help the boys it will backfire.

And it has. It's not even some delusion of his. He's a danger to them, a danger to everyone. He tried to kill Raphael, and ended up causing mass destruction as the new God. He wanted to fix it by putting the souls back into Purgatory, but while doing so unleashed the Leviathans. He attempted to shut the gates of Heaven, but instead cast out his entire family, striking them with unnecessary pain.

Plus, all of the times he left the brothers. True, he had done it when he thought he was a danger to them, but looking back he realizes it caused more harm than good. Never again, he vows. Never again shall I leave their side.

He takes an uneven breath and lifts his eyes, shaking his head to calm his nerves. He pulls out the map from his coat pocket and unfolds it, intently inspecting it for signs of an escape. Suddenly, he sees something.

He squints, making sure he's correct.

Yes.

It's there.

His eyes scan the paper as he quickly formulates a plan.

"So, basically, anyone admitted to the Smith County Memorial Hospital that's listed as having a head injury will show up here," Charlie says, pointing to the screen. Names are already appearing rapidly.

"Great," Dean replies, walking Charlie to the exit. "Thanks for helping. Really." He hugs her.

"I just hope you can fix them. The world's kinda going crazy," Charlie responds, shrugging and heading out the door. "Later, bitches," she calls over her shoulder.

Dean grins and walks back over to Sam, leaning over his shoulder to read the list of people. "Great," he says to himself. "One of 'em's gotta know something. Come on, Sammy, let's get suited up."

Sam pulls out a notebook and pen from one of the drawers and copies down the many names as Dean jogs to his room and changes his clothes. His outfit is nice and professional: a simple black jacket with matching pants and shoes with a white shirt and black and blue striped tie. He walks to Kevin's room and knocks on the door.

"Hey, Kevin? Sam and I are just going to the hospital to talk to some patients. We'll be back in a few hours. Don't do anything stupid," Dean calls.

"I won't," Kevin yells back.

Dean returns to the computer, where he sees the notebook with all the fallen angels' names printed neatly lying on the desk. He picks it up and stuffs it in his jacket.

"You ready?" Sam says from behind him.

Dean turns. Sam's suit is nearly identical to his own, the only difference being that his brother's tie is red. "Yep. You sure you're up for it?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, I feel a lot better than I did yesterday. I think the symptoms are going away."

"That's good. Well, let's get out of here," Dean declares, striding confidently out the door. Sam follows on his heels.

The bus groans to a stop, spurting out disgusting fumes and gas from its tail end.

Abaddon looks up from her phone and stands. She straightens and walks to the exit, gracefully clacking down the steps. Castiel follows several paces behind her, taking deep breaths. He's extremely nervous, as he knows what he is about to do may result in his execution.

"Before we continue, may I stop inside this store to purchase food?" he asks, waving at the small convenience store to his left. "I haven't eaten in...several months."

Abaddon sighs, reaching into her pocket and pulling out several crumpled dollar bills. She hands them to him. "Don't take too long." Stupid humans.

He thanks her and ducks inside. Abaddon waits, impatiently tapping her foot. After several minutes, Castiel emerges, carrying a small white bag filled with snacks. He's greedily biting into a cupcake.

He examines the map, then points north. "We just travel along this way for half a mile, and we'll arrive at our destination," he says. He begins walking, his feet crunching the rock and sand mixture atop the ground.

They amble along for a good 20 minutes in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts: Abaddon plotting her attack on Crowley; Castiel building up the nerve to carry out his plan. Finally, they come to a fork in the road. Although he already knows which path to take, Castiel consults the map, putting on an act for Abaddon.

"It says to go...right," he announces, turning in that direction.

Abaddon eyes him suspiciously. "If this is a trick, I will slit your throat," she says solemnly.

Castiel gulps. "No, no tricks," he mutters, his voice catching. He quickly averts his eyes and hurries along the dirt path, the trees on each side slowly growing taller. He curses himself for displaying so much emotion. As an angel, he would have been able to hide it completely.

After another 2 minutes, Castiel stops. He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales deeply, then rotates to face Abaddon. "We're here," he breathes, gesturing to an abandoned gray warehouse well off the road. Although very big, it's mostly obscured by the trees. Cracks are visible on its sides.

Abaddon moves forward to enter, but Castiel interrupts. "Wait," he grunts. "I have to go in first and make sure Crowley is vulnerable. Come in after 5 minutes to make a surprise attack."

Abaddon studies him carefully, then nods. "Fair enough," she agrees. "5 minutes."

Castiel enters the building and slams the door shut behind him, extremely thankful he'd noticed the warehouse on the map while riding the bus. It's only a quarter mile from the bunker.

He digs into the bottom of his bag from the convenience store and yanks out the small bottle of red spray paint, which had been delicately hidden beneath the mound of food. He glances around the room and spots an old ladder propped up against the opposite wall. He runs over and grabs it, then drags it back to the entrance and positions it on the door. Luckily, the first floor's ceiling is low, making it easy for him to climb up and draw a Devil's Trap on it.

He's sweaty and breathless from the anxiety by the time climbs down and tiredly checks his watch.

30 seconds.

He knocks down the ladder and kicks it to the side, then tosses the white bag to a pillar.

5 seconds.

He holds his breath.

Waits.

1 second.

Abaddon bursts through the door, her eyes glowing a fierce, evil black. She screeches to a halt, however, upon reaching the drawing. She blinks, her pupils and irises returning, and looks around, momentarily confused. She draws a sharp breath.

No.

She slowly let's her gaze drift up, and utters a low growl at the paint.

How could she have been so stupid?!

She whirls around to face Castiel, who is backed up against the wall and edging towards the exit.

"You will pay for this," she whispers icily.

Her voice cuts into Castiel's skin like a knife.

"Just wait. I'll make your existence so unbearable, you'll wish you were dead."

Castiel's hand is almost at the door.

"I'll force you to watch as I kill Dean and Sam, and you won't be able to do a thing to stop me!"

Castiel rushes out of the building and races up the path, Abaddon's screams fading behind him. He passes the fork in the road within seconds and reaches the bunker in 3 minutes.

He runs to the door and bangs on it with as much force as he can muster.

"Dean! Sam! Anyone! I need you to help me! It's a matter of extreme importance! Please!"

Author's Note: The plot moves forward! Again, if you notice anything wrong with the technicalities of this chapter (i.e. something wrong with the bunker, etc) please tell me in a review and I will fix it. Thanks (and always feel free to review)!