CHAPTER NOTES: In this chapter, Crowley turns up and Dean meets yet another heavenly body. (A/N: I had to do a little research on angels for this chapter.)

Next chapter, the Good Guys get one up over Crowley, Dean finally finds out what's going on with Sam, and we find out just what all Castiel got up to when he went on the bender in the episode '99 Problems'.

Remember to review if you like or I'll tell Crowley to keep Sam's soul. ;)

Chapter 4

"So how do I start changing things?" Dean asked the next morning at breakfast as he sat at Dallas's breakfast bar. The night before he'd been unable to sleep as all his thoughts seemed to hit him at once the moment he'd laid down in the guest room.

Handing Dean a cup of coffee, Dallas pondered the question. In fact, it had been something she'd thought about since their session yesterday. There were several things that Dean would have to do if he wanted to start building his own life. And the first thing would be the most difficult. "Dean, I know you're a hunter first and foremost," Dallas said as she finished cooking a placed a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of Dean. "But you need to walk away for a while." Seeing him about to argue, she held up a hand to stop him. "Dean, this is… Think of this as drug rehab. You need to stay away from hunting. Not forever, but for a while."

Dean nodded, knowing Dallas was right but that didn't stop the twisting of his gut when he thought about it. How was he supposed to walk away when he knew what was really out there? But at the same time, he wondered how he was supposed to get better if he didn't walk away. Dallas was right, of course. Hunting, Sam… they were like drugs he'd been hooked on for more than 20 years. Even before Sam had come back—when he was still living with Lisa—he'd wanted so badly to go back to hunting. He'd needed it because hunting was what gave his life purpose and meaning. And he didn't know who he was without it.

Finally picking up his fork and starting to eat, Dean asked, "So what else, Doc?"

Dallas gave a small shrug. "I can only tell you what I think you should do, Dean."

"Okay," Dean replied, going back to eating. After a while, however, he asked, "So, long term. Just tell me what your advice is."

Dallas finished her own breakfast and put the dishes in the sink before she leaned against the counter, making sure she had Dean's full attention before she started speaking. "First off, you need to be settled somewhere. And I mean like a permanent address. And you need to start realizing that the whole world does not rest solely on your shoulders. You're not the only hunter in the world, you know."

"No, I know," Dean replied, finishing his own plate and pushing it aside. After slugging down the last of his coffee, he sighed. "But like I said before—how am I supposed to be able to sleep at night knowing that all this stuff's out there and innocent people are being hurt and killed?"

"How much do you actually sleep?" Dallas asked, refilling Dean's coffee mug. "And I mean real, honest sleep?"

"I don't," Dean said, quietly, knowing that they were approaching the subject of Hell and he dreaded talking about it. But more than anything he wanted to talk about it. Where Sam and hunting were like a drug, Hell was a poison always coursing through his body. A poison he desperately wanted out of him. "Ever since I got back from Hell I can't really sleep. Sometimes if I've had enough to drink it's like the volume's turned down on my nightmares but every single night when I close my eyes I relive what happened to me down there. Everything."

Dean's expression was so dark when he looked at Dallas that she unconsciously took a step back from the counter. But Dean didn't seem to notice as he said, "You can't imagine what it was like down there. And time's different. 4 months is more like 40 years. And for 30 years I was sliced and carved and hacked… And when I finally couldn't take it anymore they took me down and I started doing the same to other souls. I liked it, Doc. I was able to dish out payback and it felt good."

Dallas was unable to think of anything to say and only wordlessly pulled up another stool so that she was facing Dean. After a moment, she just said, quietly, "Go on, Dean."

Dean could feel the hot tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat as he spoke. "You can't even imagine how much I wish it would all end. And seriously? Sometimes I wish Sam and I hadn't stopped the apocalypse because maybe if I was dead I'd actually be able to find some peace. Maybe I'd actually be able to find a way to fill this hole inside." The tears were falling freely now and Dean didn't care. He was tired of it all. He felt broken inside and it seemed that every time he and Dallas talked another piece of him cracked further.

Despite hours of research and Castiel's assistance, all Bobby, Samuel, and Sam had been able to find out was that while someone had yanked Sam out of Hell, they'd left his soul behind in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.

Worst of all, Bobby was starting to lose his patience with both Sam and Samuel.

Samuel had been continually insisting that Dean should be aware of what was going on with his brother. Something that Bobby insisted would be counter-productive to Dean's long-needed psychotherapy.

And Sam just didn't really seem to care at all.

Sitting at the desk in the library, Bobby sighed as he looked over the books littering the room.

"What's the matter, Bobby?"

Bobby's head whipped up and he found himself looking at the crossroads demon, Crowley. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, you son of a bitch."

"Really," Crowley replied, calmly as he walked up to Bobby's desk. "And after I was nice enough to return your soul." With a smug smile, he added, "Of course, if you lot had actually thought things through while you had me by the short and curlies you might have asked me to return Sam's soul as well."

Bobby slowly stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on Crowley. "What do you know about Sam's soul?"

Crowley looked honestly amused as he replied, "Oh, I know quite a lot, actually. One of my favorite pieces of property, actually." Walking around the room, he asked, "So where's Dean?" Catching the surprised look on Bobby's face, Crowley's smug grin seemed to intensify. "Oh, you want to know how I knew? Fine. Because you lot are just far too predictable. Someone's got a crisis, you all hole up here. I mean, it's convenient having you all in one place, but… it won't do you any good." Looking around again as Sam and Samuel came into the room, Crowley asked again, "Really. Where is Dean? Strange as it sounds I actually sort of miss his dulcet tones telling me to go to Hell."

"He's not here," Samuel replied, calmly.

"Thanks for the newsflash, Chrome-Dome," Crowley said, looking at Samuel. "So where is he?" When neither Bobby, Sam, or Samuel responded, he shrugged. "No matter. Don't need him anyway. Here's the deal, boys. I don't really need Sam's soul. It's like one of those garage sale knickknacks you buy 'cause it's only 50 cents. What I do need are details on the location of Purgatory. It's vast, underutilized, and Hell-adjacent."

"Couple hundred years downstairs and you haven't found it yet?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed.

Crowley's tone grew clipped as he replied, "Do you lot even understand what Purgatory is? The souls of demons, humans, and scores of who knows what else are there waiting to either be sent upstairs or to my front door. Hell itself is getting a bit crowded. So I'm planning on expanding."

"And if we choose not to go along with this?" Sam asked, his expression dark.

Crowley's smug smile returned as he turned to Sam. "I can either snap my fingers and give you your soul back… or shove you back in the cage. Choice is yours."

For a moment, no one spoke but finally, Samuel nodded shortly. "Alright. Fine."

"Smart man," Crowley replied with a return nod. Looking at the others, he added, "Maybe next time you can invite Dean to the party."

When Crowley had vanished, Bobby turned on Samuel. "What the hell was that about? Have you lost your mind? You actually want to work with him?"

"No," Samuel snapped, angrily. "But at least this way we're buying some time to find out another way to get Sam's soul back."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it," Bobby grumbled. "Working with Crowley… We're pretty much just begging him to double-cross us."

"Yeah, well, then let's take out some insurance," Samuel replied, looking at his grandson. "Can you get a hold of your friend, Castiel?"

Sam looked a bit surprised by the question but he shrugged. "I can try. Why?"

"Crowley's looking for Purgatory," Samuel replied with a grin. "Might be something angels would be interested to know about, don't you think?"

Catching on to Samuel's line of thought, Bobby nodded. "If the angels are guarding it and Crowley comes in, they can smite his ass for us."

"Then let's get on it," Sam said, hoping that Samuel was right. Turning his gaze upwards, Sam took a deep breath and said, "Cas, we need some help here…"

In a bar on the edge of town, Dean sat alone with a glass of whiskey and his thoughts. After his latest session with Dr. Dallas Morgan he'd had to get away for a few hours and found himself drawn to a rather classy looking bar that had one of the best selections of top shelf liquor he'd ever seen.

And the bartender was hot, too. She was a tall, leggy blonde with perfect curves and eyes the color of seawater. She hadn't even asked him for his drink order as he'd sat at the bar—just placed a glass in front of him and poured a shot.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Dean asked, although his heart wasn't really in the pick-up line.

But the bartender gave him a warm smile and said, "I own this place. Been in my family for about 80 years." Holding out a hand, she said, "I'm Celeste."

Dean managed a smile as he shook her hand. "Dean Winchester."

"So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Celeste asked as Dean finished his drink. Pouring him another, she gave him a quick look. "Come on. Whatever you've got I promise it isn't the strangest I've ever heard."

Dean played with his glass for a few minutes and finally said, "Can we not talk about it? I've got a shrink for that."

"'Bout damn time," Celeste said, as she finished wiping the bar down. "According to Castiel you're—"

Dean's head snapped up at those words and he fixed her with a sharp look. "You know Cas?"

Celeste smiled as she leaned against the bar, making sure to give Dean a good long look down her low cut top. "Some time ago he sat right where you're sitting, telling me that God wouldn't help stop the apocalypse." Straightening up, she sighed as she poured herself a drink. "I've known Castiel for a long time and that was the first time I'd ever seen him look truly defeated."

Dean straightened up, Celeste's words clicking in his head. "You're an angel."

"It's funny, you know," Celeste said, tossing back her shot of vodka and pouring another. "Naming an angel 'Celeste' is really redundant." After the second shot, she set her glass aside and took a step back from the bar.

Dean remembered when he'd first seen Castiel's wings. They had been dark, threatening, impressive and seemed to enhance the fact that he was not an earthly being.

But when Celeste unfurled her wings, they seemed warm and comforting, like a mother's embrace after a bad dream. "As far as classification, I'm known as one of The Powers." Putting her wings away, she went on. "Most angels are warriors of Heaven. But my duties usually keep me down here."

"How's that?" Dean asked, his own problems momentarily forgotten.

"We're healers, Dean," Celeste explained. "Physical pain… and emotional. And not just humans. Sometimes even angels need healing." Putting a hand on Dean's, she waited until his eyes met hers before going on. "I know the darkness you carry with you, Dean. But unlike your brother, yours comes from a hole that can't be filled."

"Yeah, thanks," Dean muttered, Pulling his hand from Celeste's and tossing back the rest of his drink. Looking her over, he asked, "So what's with the bar?"

"It belongs to my vessel, Gail Hadley," Celeste replied, refilling Dean's glass once more. "Most angels don't bother getting to know the bodies they inhabit, but I've found that it makes it easier to be around humans."

Not wanting to talk about himself and his problems, Dean thought of any distraction and finally asked, "So Cas came to you after he heard Joshua's message, huh?"

Celeste broke into a smile as she leaned against the back of the bar, crossing her arms across her chest. "Oh, yeah. And let me tell you: I could have taken a long tropical vacation with what Castiel drank. If he'd been paying, that is. I mean I've seen angels drink, but him…"

"Yeah, well, how would you feel if you'd been looking all over for God only to have him tell you that he didn't give a rat's ass?" Dean asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

Celeste took a long, calming breath before speaking. "Dean, God cares. Okay? I mean, believe me; I was pissed off when I heard the news but what I realized was that he was being a father."

"Come again?" Dean asked, confused. "Bailing when your kids need help is not being a father. It's being a dick!"

Fixing Dean with a pointed look, she replied, "Your dad, John Winchester, never pulled you out of every mess you got into, did he? You make mistakes, you learn from them, and you move on."

Not sure what to say to that, Dean finished his drink and then pushed his glass aside, no longer in the mood for a refill. The alcohol wasn't helping to fill the emptiness inside him and with as much as he'd been drinking lately, he figured he should stop before he ended up passed out or worse.

Lost in his own thoughts, Dean wasn't away of Celeste coming from behind the bar until she stood right next to him, her hand on his upper arm in the same place as the hand-shaped burn scar where Castiel had gripped him to pull him from Hell. Dean turned to face the angelic bartender and as she leaned in close, he pulled her to him, their lips meeting in a tender kiss.

In the apartment above the bar, Dean and Celeste made love, rolling around in the massive bed, caressing each other tenderly.

And in a single moment of ecstasy, Dean thought he just barely feel the tiniest ray of light touch the emptiness inside his soul.