"What're you talkin' about, Cas," Dean asked, his voice coming out raspy.
"We should go inside, and I'll explain," the angel answered.
As they walked, Dean kept his eyes on Castiel, subconsciously afraid that if he looked away the angel would take off. "Where have you been?" Dean asked. "You look like crap."
"It...has been a long day," Castiel told him as they piled into the kitchen. Gibbs closed the door and turned to wait for an explanation from the angel. Castiel looked to the agents, then back to Dean. "Perhaps we should have this conversation in a more private setting."
"No way," Dean said before the others could even respond. "They've held me together this past year, and they're not ignorant about what it is we do. There's no reason not to let them in on it. Now talk."
The angel's eyes darted around a bit at nothing in particular for a moment. "It is...embarrassing," he admitted. "I made a rash decision when I should have simply come to you. But I hesitated because of your promise to Sam," he met Dean's eyes. "I didn't want to pull you back into something when you had purposefully taken yourself out of it."
"If that's really the case, why come to me now?" Dean asked.
"Perhaps I should start from the beginning."
"That'd probably be a good start," Dean replied.
"It's a lengthy story. You may prefer to sit down."
Not wanting to further delay Castiel's admissions, the three of them took a seat at the table and looked to him to continue. Castiel still seemed hesitant, and the longer he waited, the more nervous Dean became. "Come on, Cas," he urged. "Whatever you have to say, we can handle it."
Castiel looked at him with such sorrowful eyes, Dean's heart ached. "I'm not so sure that you'll feel the same way once I've finished," the angel told him, then took a seat at the other end of the table. "It began, of course, with the need to defeat Raphael," he started. "I was at a loss as to how to accomplish this. My instinct told me to come to you for help," he looked to Dean. "But my hesitation seemed just, at the time. Unfortunately, it also led me astray and allowed opportunity for help from...the wrong party. Though his suggestions have made sense, the courses of action that were necessary to carry them out have made me weary. And in the process, it seems we are no closer to our goal than we were in the beginning. Now more than ever, Raphael's influence is strong among my brothers. I fear that we'll be too late to do anything if I don't acquire the necessary assistance."
"What do you need me to do?" Dean asked.
"Us," Gibbs added. "If we can."
"And who have you been working with?" Dean queried.
Castiel looked down at the table top, much like a child about to be caught in trouble. "Crowley."
"What?" Dean gruffly questioned. "You thought this was a good idea why?"
Castiel met his eyes. "His methods may be unorthodox, but his suggestion would be successful in defeating Raphael."
"And what's in it for him?"
"Actually," Castiel explained, "The offer was to me. Crowley intended to do this with or without my assistance. But if I helped, I'd be given loan of something that would help me to defeat Raphael."
"A loan of what?" Dean asked.
"Souls," the angel replied. Dean wasn't sure how to respond. "Crowley wanted me to assist him in discovering the location of Purgatory. There are...countless souls there. The amount of power they would give me would help me to destroy Raphael."
"And the power they'd give Crowley?" Dean exclaimed.
Castiel looked away for a moment. "I did not intend on allowing him to keep them."
Dean considered this for a moment. "So you're playing him, basically. You've learned an awful lot since I last saw you," Dean scoffed.
"A lot has happened since you last saw me, Dean," the angel countered, his brows pinching in the middle. "Would you rather that I simply give up, and all your and Sam's efforts have been in vain? Do you even understand what allowing Raphael to continue would do?"
"Okay, okay," Dean grunted. "I get the point. But I don't understand what exactly you need us for. If you wanna back out of your plan with Crowley, you can do that yourself."
"What I need isn't pertaining to Crowley, as much as something I was required to do in the beginning per his suggestion. We needed help," he told them, then paused, hesitating once again. He decidedly pushed away from the table and stood, walking a bit to the center of the kitchen before he continued. "We needed hunters. But we needed hunters that wouldn't be on the radar, so to speak. Another requirement would be the lack of questioning of our actions."
"Which likely doesn't exist, unless you opted for demons," Dean scoffed.
"No... We did not," his head bowed, though still unseen by the group as he was faced away from them. "Instead, in order to stay under the radar, Crowley discovered a spell; one to bring someone back. Though, at the time, I was unaware of its complete effects, I was aware of what it would do. And in hindsight I realize that I've been a fool."
"I'm lost here, Cas," Dean said, confused. "What do you mean, 'bring someone back'? What are you tellin' me?"
"The spell...allowed for me to bring someone back without a certain aspect of their humanity which would've hindered their ability to do what we needed. And to accomplish this, under the radar, we needed to bring back another from the opposite end of the spectrum, so to speak."
"There's an awful lot of 'so to speak', and not enough 'what the hell is going on', Cas," Dean argued impatiently.
"Sam," Castiel said, then turned to look at Dean. "I brought back Sam." Dean was stunned into silence; his chest tight and his stomach dropping or spinning or something he couldn't quite identify because of the sudden, burning rush inside of his ears. "But it's not all of him," the angel continued, "And I'm not sure how to fix that without your assistance. Until recently, I didn't realize what a mistake it was to begin with."
"How long?" Dean managed, still frozen in his chair. Castiel narrowed his eyes, confused as to the specifics of the question. "How long has he been back?" Dean bit out.
"Approximately ten months," Castiel informed him, at which point Dean pushed angrily from his chair and charged him, gripping the angel's lapels in each hand.
"How could you not tell me!?"
"You don't understand," Castiel defended. "He's not the same Sam you know. It's not all of him."
"You had no right!" he shouted in his face, wanting to slug him, but knowing it would only break his own hand. "You had no friggin' right to do any of this!"
"You're right," Castiel replied repentantly. "And I am...sorry. I should have asked your permission. And I shouldn't have kept this from you."
"You're damn right, you shouldn't have!"
"Do you have any idea what Dean's been through this past year?" Tony defended; Dean realizing he'd come over from the table. "The nightmares of Sam in Hell? How could you just let him-"
"Technically," Castiel interrupted, "Sam is still in Hell." Dean fixed him with a crossed look of anger and confusion. "The part that was left behind so that his resurrection would be undetected and therefore unexpected. But more importantly, so that he wouldn't fight his orders. That part was his soul."
"His soul is still in Hell?" Gibbs questioned, standing a bit away from them.
"Why would you leave him there?" Dean's voice shook as he looked hard into the angel's eyes.
"It-" Castiel met Dean's eyes again and paused short. He wanted to tell him, once again, how it was necessary. How Sam's soul, his very nature, would never have followed Crowley's plan without question and possible rebellion. But the pain written on the hunter's face brought back the feeling of resentfulness and shame. "I made a grave error," he repeated, eyes cast downward. "It's why I came to you, Dean. I believe that you are the only one that can fix this."
"How in the hell am I gonna be able to fix this?" Dean let go of the coat.
"Your previous...arrangement with Death. I believe he could help, provided he be willing."
Dean's eyes darted around somewhere between them in thought for a few long moments. The room was silent at that point; no one knowing how, exactly, to respond. "Where is he?" Dean finally asked.
Castiel's brows, once again, knit together in a bit of confusion. "I am unaware of the current location of Death."
"Not...not Death, you idiot. Sam."
"He's several driving hours away from here," Castiel responded, trying not to take offense to Dean's words. "There is no point in seeing him. Not until we can set things the way they're supposed to be."
"Well how the hell am I supposed to find Death?" Dean asked.
"There is one way," the angel responded. "It would require you to die."
"That seems like a great idea," Dean replied sarcastically. When Castiel didn't offer up any other suggestions, Dean cocked his head. "That's it?"
"Technically, there's a binding spell we could try. But I believe that would only anger him."
"Well awesome," Dean nodded, biting down on his tongue. "Just what I wanted to do, today...die again."
"Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow," Castiel suggested. "I am required to meet with Crowley tonight, and I fear he'll become suspicious should I not show up."
"Just great. Yeah, fine," Dean nodded. "When should I expect you back?"
"Tomorrow. Noon."
"I'll ask for the day off, then."
"Very well. Until tomorrow, Dean," he said, and was suddenly gone.
Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Maybe I should've taken him up on his offer tonight," he told his friends. "I'm tired. Dying would probably solve that problem."
"You're really gonna do this?" Dean looked over at Tony at the sound of shock in his voice.
"Dude, it's Cas," Dean told him. "He can bring me back. It's not that big a' deal."
"Part of me knows that," Tony replied. "But the logical part of my brain feels like this is a really bad idea, and I'm finding it mildly difficult not to freak the hell out right now."
"Then I'm guessing there's no way you can go to sleep at the moment?" Dean asked.
"There's no way."
"Awesome. Then you can stick with me and wake me up when it's obvious I've started dreaming," he said plainly, and headed toward his room. Tony shared a glance with Gibbs, who shrugged, and then followed after the hunter.
Dean plopped down on the bed on top of the covers and closed his eyes. Tony, feeling a bit out of place, walked over to the chair beside the window and quietly sat down.
"Gonna get awfully bored sitting there for a couple hours," Dean said, not opening his eyes.
"Think I'll manage. I've got games on my phone, if nothing else," the agent replied.
The room fell silent for a few moments. Then Dean said, "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Caring," he replied...
*~.~*
2 hours later...
"Boss!" Tony yelled, panicking as he hovered over Dean. He knew Gibbs was in the basement; neither of them able to sleep. "Gibbs!" he yelled again.
"What is it?" Gibbs rushed into the room, slightly out of breath from his quick dash up the stairs.
"Something's wrong," he told him. "I can't wake him up, and it's like he's on fire!"
Gibbs approached the bed and appraised the young man who laid on his back, motionless. His skin was flushed and his eyes were even cracked open the slightest bit.
"His heart rate is real slow," Tony told him, checking his pulse.
"He's breathin'," Gibbs assured. "I'll call Duck."
But he was stopped, suddenly, as Dean's eyes shot open and he was panting as if he'd run a marathon. Not quite seeing the men that hovered nearby, he was still frozen on the bed, for the moment.
"Dean?" Tony called out to him. "Dean, are you okay?"
Still without a response, Gibbs placed a hand on the younger man's chest. "Dean. You with us?" he asked when Dean's eyes met his. Dean's eyes darted about for a moment, before pushing quickly up from the bed and making a mad dash for the bathroom. Tony was quick to follow, and found him vomiting whatever mix of stomach acid and alcohol from his system into the toilet.
"Thought you were gonna wake me up," Dean said once he was finished, then flushed.
"I tried," Tony replied. "You were completely out of it and running a fever or something. We were gonna get Ducky over here."
"Well...seems I'm fine now."
"Whatever happened," Gibbs said from the doorway, "Wasn't normal."
"Nothin' ever is with me," Dean replied.
"It's almost like you really were in hell, as hot as you were burning up, man," Tony said.
"That's ridiculous," Dean scoffed, turning on the faucet and splashing cool water over his face.
Tony shared a worried glance with Gibbs...
TBC...
