A/N - Ok, so this is the chapter where I click 'publish' and then close my eyes in trepidation. I completely twisted some mythology to try and explain where Molly has been and how Castiel gets her back.

Really hope it doesn't bite me in the ass. I think it works.

(prises one eye open slightly to check that all is well)


Chapter Seven.

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Dean rolled his beer bottle between his hands, as he watched Sam pacing up and down the motel room shooting questions at a typically indifferent Castiel. He couldn't quite work out if Sam was furious, ecstatic or completely nonplussed. Judging by the way he was stomping around the room, throwing his arms around as he attempted to interrogate Castiel, it was probably all three.

After appearing in the cemetery, Castiel had offered no explanation as to what had happened. He spoke only to instruct them to head back to the motel before immediately disappearing again. Nothing new there Dean figured, looking down at the brown bottle in his hands, contemplating whether or not to start peeling the label off.

'What the hell Cass?' Sam was shouting. 'Where was she? Did you know this whole time? I've spent the best part of the last fortnight feeling like crap whilst you've been off resurrecting her!'

'I'm going to need another beer,' Dean muttered to deaf ears, standing up and moving over to the refrigerator. He took the last bottle from the cool box inside and sat down again.

Castiel appeared to be simply standing and waiting for Sam to stop his verbal tirade. Molly lay sleeping on Sam's bed. It appeared she had not yet fully regained consciousness despite her efforts in the cemetery. Dean had to admit he was curious but having been resurrected himself more times than he could count, he wasn't as curious as Sam clearly was. Crazy how something so miraculous now seemed part of his daily routine almost.

'Dude, give it a rest,' Dean said at last, finally growing tired of his brother's tantrum-esque ranting. 'Calm down and give him chance to explain.'

Sam ran a hand through his thick brown hair. Dean resisted commenting on whether he intended to go for a haircut anytime this side of the apocalypse but figured it really wasn't the right time.

'Fine,' Sam snapped, dragging a chair out from under the table and abruptly sitting down in it.

He folded his arms like a petulant child and stared at Castiel. The angel sat down on the end of the bed and stared back.

Dean looked from the angel to his brother.

It was going to be a long night.

X X X

The pain in her head was excruciating, like nothing she had ever felt before. Or had she? Everything was such a blur, she barely knew who or what she was. It had felt as though she had been floating around in nothingness for the longest time when she finally felt ground beneath her feet and sensed a body pressed beside hers. In the short moment where she had managed to open her eyes, images had flashed across them, familiar yet distant like she was running a fever and hallucinating.

Then she had heard the voice whispering her name. It brought peace in the midst of the confusion; familiar yet unidentifiable. She had tried hard to look towards the voice but had been unable to keep her eyes open. The pain in her head and the shivers got worse as she tried to move and she found herself slipping away again.

She wasn't sure whether or not she was dreaming but when she lost consciousness all she could see were images of a man who struck her with so much terror that she tried desperately to look away. Then pain followed a burning feeling in her gut.

Trying hard to make sense of the emotions, images and feelings that flashed through her she began to think about opening her eyes again. She was sure she could hear that familiar voice somewhere in the distance. It sounded angry but she was desperate to reach it as though finding that voice would answer everything.

X X X

'Limbo,' Castiel said at last.

Sam, having momentarily given up on his stare-down, snapped his head up to look at the angel.

'What?' he exclaimed.

'Limbo, that's where I found her,' Castiel said, looking briefly at Molly's sleeping form on the bed.

'Limbo really exists?' Dean interjected.

Sam glared at him as though he were stupid although he himself had been surprised when he heard the word. Just when he thought he knew everything about the world that Dean and he lived in something else came along.

Dean held his palms up in mock-defence. Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Castiel.

'Limbo - as in between Earth and Heaven?' Sam asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Castiel nodded briefly and said nothing. Sam had the uneasy feeling that he was holding back on him.

'How did you know to look for her there?' Sam asked, fighting the urge to become frustrated with the angel.

Castiel stood and walked towards the window, looking out of it briefly before turning back to face Sam directly.

'Most souls end up in limbo. It's rare for them to stay there more than a day or two before they reach their intended destination be it heaven or hell. Then you get the kind that fight their way back to Earth – '

'Like Molly,' Sam interjected.

Castiel shook his head. 'No, she ended up here mostly be accident. The souls that fight their way back usually end up as angry spirits.'

'Keeping us in business,' Dean muttered to himself. 'Great, yet another reason for them to roam the earth – as if vengeance and unfinished business weren't enough.'

Sam wondered fleetingly whether Dean was drunk already but he was far more interested in what Castiel had to say. Interrogating the angel was keeping his mind off Molly and the knowledge that she was little more than a few feet from him.

'So how did Molly get back?' Sam asked, his eyes reluctantly flickering in her direction.

'I was in limbo looking for her and she got caught up in the soul of the spirit you were trying to kill.' Castiel explained, pacing the room slightly.

'How'd it end up there?' Dean asked his brow furrowed in confusion.

'Like I said before, the angry spirits are the souls that fight their way back to Earth. Every time you shoot one with your rock salt rounds or strike it with iron, the soul is sent back to limbo - if that is where it came from originally. Like you said, Dean, there are many reasons angry spirits are created.'

'Huh,' Dean huffed. 'Explains a lot.'

'And when the spirit came back, Molly somehow tagged along?' Sam asked, starting to understand the new lore he found himself hearing.

Castiel nodded.

'Lucky break,' Dean said, sounding impressed. 'How did you get her back in her body?'

'I harnessed the soul long enough to take it to the warehouse.'

Sam felt the bile rise in his throat. Molly's body had lay in the warehouse for over a week. He had assumed that Castiel had dealt with it. Now he found himself questioning why he had just walked away without so much as looking back, as though she had meant nothing to him.

He heard Dean say his name as he rose silently from his seat and crossed the room but he was unable to respond. Brushing a lock of hair away from her face as he sat down gently on the edge of the bed, he felt realisation finally start to sink in. Molly was back and all the questions he'd had were gone from his mind. He didn't care how she was back, why she was back or what sinister future was no doubt attached to this.

All he wanted now was for her to wake up.

'Molly,' he whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.

He ignored Dean's awkward throat clearing, not caring how much of a chick his older brother would think he was. Sam just needed to be able to look in her eyes again and hold her close to him.

'Molly,' Sam said again, louder this time, and shook her shoulder softly.

X X X

The flickering of the images that she now knew to be memories had sped up. She felt as though she were on a merry go round at full speed, each visual picture blurring into the next. The only difference was that there was no jolly music playing on repeat.

But there was the voice again, calling her name. It seemed so distant to start with and difficult to distinguish like the owner of the voice was standing at the opposite end of a very long tunnel, calling to her.

She turned her head, searching for the sound, trying to reach it. As it grew louder she began to make out all the details that made it familiar. The tender tone, the underlying worry, the slight etching of hope.

Sam.

Her eyes flew open.


A/N - there you have it, there is another chapter to come before I have to write some more, hope you liked this one and that I got away with the twisted mythology. Like I've said before I'm just borrowing the characters and doing my own thing. Thanks for still sticking with this story.