In this chapter we get the first big divergence from canon! :D

Chapter 9

Dean entered the quiet room, his deep breathing being the only sound heard. He stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, before daring to lift the sheet and look once more at the motionless body that laid there on the table. Pale skin and rigor mortis was all that greeted him.

"Hey, Cas," he murmured, leaning in. "You remember that time in the bunker, when you were human for a while and bored, and I found you watching Sleeping Beauty? I laughed and teased you for that, but... I wouldn't do it again. Really, man. So if I do this and you pull me into a kiss-or-die moment with you... it'll be ok."

He stroked gently the angel's hair before laying a small kiss on very cold lips.

"I promise you, Cas. I won't be mad. Just wake up." With voice shaking and eyes prickling, Dean kissed him again. "Dammit, Cas! I promise, ok? I won't make fun of you for it, you stupid feather-brain. Just open your eyes and stand up. I've promised already, so just... please. Wake up, Cas, please."

He attempted a final, third kiss, but of course to no avail. Castiel's cheeks were now slightly smeared with wetness that, painfully, wasn't his own. Eventually, Dean couldn't stand it anymore and got away from the angel's corpse, covering him back with the sheet again. Tearing the curtains of a window, he used them to secure the improvised shroud.

Outside, the pyre was ready. Sam had already put Kelly there, and he and Jack were waiting for him. For the last time, Dean took Castiel in his arms, because he knew there wouldn't be more times.

Ever.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jack didn't understand it. He couldn't, what was he doing wrong. Even if he was trying his best with Dean.

He had chosen the angel Castiel as his father even before being born, but he wasn't there anymore. Castiel was dead, killed by his other no-father, that was what Sam had told him. They burnt his vessel along with Mum's corpse, and Jack missed him. It didn't matter they never got to actually meet each other. Castiel was his father and he was dead.

But that didn't mean he had disappeared, because Jack could still feel him lingering around, somehow. Specially in Dean Winchester. His father's essence was deeply carved into the man's soul, and it was bright. It was comforting on a small scale, but Dean wasn't sharing. He didn't want him around, that was clear as day. Jack was trying his best to appeal to the hunter, listening to his words and commands and imitating his actions, but this instead seemed to bother him.

"Ok, will you stop already?" Dean had shouted yesterday, annoyed.

He had seen Sam hiding a small smile. There was also Father's essence in him, but a lot fainter, so much that it couldn't compare to Dean's. It was a pity, because until now, the younger man had been the one more approachable. He was being nice and understanding, patient and reassuring. He seemed to like Jack and Jack liked him back, but it wasn't enough. He wanted Dean to like him too.

Sam had explained to him that Dean was hurting, hurting a lot because of Father's death. He blamed him for that. Jack didn't really understand that, how could he be responsible for Castiel's death when he was being born at that exact moment. However, he hadn't asked Dean. He doubted the hunter would want to talk about it with him. There was also a lot of heartrending feelings pouring from him every time he mentioned Castiel, and those weren't nice at all.

But then this other man, Donatello, Prophet of the Lord, had come to him with a plan, and it sounded like a good one. He just need to show Dean he wasn't evil, so the older Winchester wouldn't hate him anymore. Jack would prove that he could do good things. Perhaps, when Dean wasn't so angry and scared, he would be more willing to like him.

That's why he was there, following Donatello's instructions to free Heaven's bravest soldiers by God's will. A scaly arm was already creeping out the hole in the ground when a vehicle appeared on the road. It was the Impala.

"Jack, stop!" Sam screamed, getting out of the car.

"Don't listen to them, Jack! Keep focused!" the prophet seemed hysteric.

"That's not Donatello!" another man said, an exact copy of the one beside him.

"Oh, screw this," Dean sputtered, before taking aim and shooting the clone.

The first Donatello, the one that had offered Jack his help, dissolved and in his place stood an unknown man with yellow eyes, clad in a white suit.

"Jack, he's a demon!" Sam warned him.

"Howdy, boys," the demon said, moving his hand, and immediately the hunters and the prophet started choking.

"No!" Jack shouted, losing his focus and aborting the process of freeing.

Among the rush and the confusion, the one shedim crawling out of Hell had been practically forgotten, but it achieved to emerge just in time before the hole closed again right behind it. Covered in nothing more than a tattered rag, it remained still, quiet, not wanting to attract attention upon itself, not yet. Its scaly, yellow skin started to shed, uncovering a new, more human hue beneath. Its nails also retracted.

"Jack, they want to stop you, contain you," the demon spoke to Jack, smiling alluringly. "But I, Asmodeus, can give you the world."

Jack looked at him, afraid and unsure, and then looked at the people that had been trying to care for him since his birth. There wasn't really any choice to make.

"You, are hurting my friends!" he bellowed, eyes flashing golden at the demon.

He wanted to punish the white-clad demon for his deception, but unfortunately, his powers were still too new and untamed to grasp them completely, and before he could actually do anything, Asmodeus lose his smile and left.

Or, he tried. A grip on his ankle, strong as a shackle, secured him in place.

Harsh panting noises distracted Jack, deactivating his eyes and dousing his powers. Without thinking twice, he ran towards the Impala and the people regaining their breath there.

"Asmodeus," the creature known as a shedim spoke with a rough voice, barely getting out the words. "Asmodeus, the fourth Prince of Hell."

The demon in white tried again to free himself, but the creature didn't budge. Quite the opposite, it elongated its arm as it got up on its feet, managing to kept the Prince in its grasp until they could look eye to eye.

The shedim looked like an old man with Asian features, probably around his seventies. Eyes wise and almond-shaped, hair more grey than black. Barely any meat on his frail bones.

"Asmodeus," he repeated with a voice a bit cleaner this time. "It looks like your second attempt at freeing us has been more successful than the first. At least for me."

"It seems like that," the demon agreed, nervous. "I welcome you back to Earth, soldier. I have plans for you."

"Oh, Asmodeus," the shedim said, derision clear in his tone. "I would hate for you to think I'm ungrateful, but the fact is... that I am. Don't expect me to serve you."

"If you don't obey, I will throw you back to your prison. That's the only choice you have, and I won't be as generous as to offer it a second time."

The shedim laughed then. A deep, coarse, horrific laugh.

"Really," the creature challenged him. "And what will you do? What could you ever possibly do, to make me behave?"

Before the astonished looks of Winchester&Co., who had no idea what was really happening in front of them, Asmodeus grabbed the shedim's long arm still locked to his ankle, and burned it. Burned it until the skin fell off and the flesh was reduced to ashes, showing the charred bones that managed to resist.

The shedim not even whimpered. Not a single muscle on his entire body actually moved.

"Is that all? Not much for intimidating me into servitude, Prince of Hell. Doing this you only achieved to make me lose... what, ten demons? Maybe a dozen? You should have tried harder, because I won't be as generous as to offer another chance," he mocked the demon's previous sentence.

"I'll kill you, bastard!" Asmodeus threatened, attempting to get free again. "You're nothing more than scum at the bottom of Hell!"

"No, you won't, Asmodeus. Do you want to know why?" the shedim asked, as his arm regenerated all on its own. "Because you can't kill me. I've never been boastful like you, I don't mind being 'scum' in the least. Why would I? You're a Prince, and you're still pathetic. But the real reason you won't kill me it's because, Prince or not, you're only one. Me instead, I'm thousands upon thousands."

And not talking anymore, the shedim pierced the demon's back with his other hand, still claw-shaped, and pushed it upwards until the nails came out through the skull. Not even a scream managed to escape the Prince's throat before his limp body completely rotted in a matter of seconds, the remains vanishing in the air.

"That was an entertaining welcome," the shedim told himself, shaking the blood from his hand.

Only then he seemed to acknowledge the other spectators of the scene. He looked them up and down, with barely more interest than what he would dedicate to a worm.

"And who may, if you grant me the honour to know, compose my welcoming party?" he mocked them.

The older hunter was the first to recover and face the obvious new menace.

"Winchester, Dean and Sam," he introduced them in a wary voice. "Jack, Donatello."

"Two hunters, a nephilim and a Prophet of the Lord," the shedim smiled, apparently pleased. "You didn't go small, neither subtle."

"It's not like we were expecting you, or anyone else," Sam swallowed hard. "What or who are you anyway?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, just... I tend to like knowing the name of the thing I'm about to kill," Dean answered. "For future reference, you know."

"Kill me?" the shedim laughed at him. "Certainly, since you're hunters... it only makes this situation all the more funnier for me, you thinking that you're actually capable of such a feat."

"Well, not to brag, but we have some big shots hanging on our wall of glory."

"I'm sure of it. Dean and Sam Winchester, the two most pestering cockroaches in Hell. Your reputation precedes you."

"Oh, so you have heard about us!" Dean played it cocky. "Look, Sammy, I'm going to blush. Do you want an autograph?"

"Dean, I don't think it's advisable to taunt the probable next sovereign of Hell," Donatello whispered, hastily grabbing Jack's arm and taking refuge behind the hunters. "Seeing as he has just annihilated the last Prince of Hell all by himself, that would likely be his next goal."

"No, I'm not really interested."

"Interested or not, it doesn't matter anyway because I'm taking him down here and now," Dean replied, aiming his gun.

"Oh, your little toy is so gonna work," the shedim smirked, opening his arms in invitation. "Please, do me the honour and shot, Winchester. I'm not even going to move."

True to his word, he didn't. Dean's bullet, with the demon trap carved in it, found home in the shedim's brain. The old body fell backwards to the soil.

"Eh, that didn't take long," Dean breathed out, turning around.

"Sorry, you were saying?" a new voice behind them said.

And turning back again, all present people opened wide their eyes, witnessing as the body of the shedim once more rose from the ground. A wave of energy washed over it like liquid oil, transforming its appearance, and instead of an old Asian man barely covered with a rag, now in front of them stood a woman. A woman that looked Native American, taller and around her forties, wearing a fringed jacket and boots; tanned skin, strong nose and night eyes, blue so dark that almost looked black.

"I think you dropped this," the shedim said, voice now feminine but not any less mocking.

With the same speed and force than Dean's gun, she threw something at them that impacted at their feet. Jack bent down to pick it, and they saw it was the demon trapping bullet. A useless bullet, it seemed.

"Who are you?" Sam insisted. "And what do you want?"

"Not Hell, that I assure you," she answered, hanging her thumbs on the loops of her waistband. "I didn't lie a moment ago when I said I'm not interested in becoming the new sovereign. Not in Hell, not in Heaven... There's only one thing I care about, and that is freedom."

"Freedom is a term easily taken out of context," Donatello made a point, valiantly testing the waters. "And largely misused."

"True," she nodded, smiling. "Let me be clear, then: I don't give a damn who you are, what you are or what you do. I'm not going to waste a single thought on you, for you don't matter to me. The empty angels, the berk demons, the petty humans... I only care about myself. And now that I'm finally free... by the way, thanks for that, Jackie; now that I'm free, I'm going to enjoy my freedom with everything that there's in existence: eating, sleeping, sexing... or stealing, torturing and killing. Whatever teases my attention, whenever and wherever I want."

"We're not going to let you," Sam replied.

"Please, what could you possibly do? Kill me? Oh, wait, you already tried that!" she laughed. "I'll tell you something, Sam: I'm not invulnerable, as you have seen, but invincible? That, I am. Because I'm not one, I'm thousands. And even if you some day get enough bullets for all of me, I'll simply go and take more, to be rebuilt anew."

"Are... are you really a demon?"

"I guess I am, but not like any you have ever encountered," she spoke darkly, raising her arms as the wind started to blow way harder, and even the sunlight dimmed. "And is my name Legion, for we are many."

Thunders cracked in the distance, lightnings shone above their heads, and even the air seemed to charge with electricity. Then a single ray broke right in front of them, and when they looked again, Legion had already disappeared.

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Dean was annoyed. Or rather, saying he was fuming and about to shot something would be a more precise term. Yeah, because he should be out there chasing a ghost or ganking a witch, paying his respects to Missouri's grave and crushing under his foot the last vermin that escaped from Hell. Instead the three of them were about to play patients and docs. And not in the sexy way.

"You've lost someone recently?" the suspected psychologist asked, coming downstairs.

"No," Dean said surly.

"My parents," Jack contradicted almost at the same time.

"We're family," Sam added, trying to best asset the lie. "We've having a difficult time."

The woman came to them, holding their hands in sympathy and introducing herself.

"Mia Vallens."

"Hi. Dean."

"That's our nephew, Jack, and I'm Sam," he explained. "His mother was our, uh... sister, and his father was a great friend of us since a very long time."

"I see. Please, this way," Mia nodded, guiding them to her consulting room and sitting down. "Your family members... did they pass away suddenly?"

"Yes."

"Most of the people I see are in the same boat. No warning, no goodbye, no closure..."

They all sat down too. The room was cozy and soothing, decorated with a white theme from the floor to the ceiling.

"Right, yeah. Pretty much the same for us," Sam nodded, trying to get the lie rolling. "So, how does this usually work? You know, with your patients?"

"Usually, they just start talking about the people they've lost."

"Well, they were great and now they're dead." Dean wasn't in the mood to really play along. "What's the deal with catharsis?"

"We, uh... we've heard about your process and..." Sam tried to cover up the slip.

"My program is a range of things. Talk therapy, meditation... You ever journal?" she asked, directing her gaze at the older hunter. "Dean, you journal?"

"Ever since I was a little girl."

Mia scoffed, but refused to take offense on the mocking comment.

"You think this shrink stuff is a load of crap, am I right? Then why are you here?"

"Because we all agreed we'd give it a shot, right?" Sam tried to keep things under control, but already had the feeling this wasn't going to end well. "My brother is not processing his grief."

"Really?" Dean chuckled. "No, I'm good, actually. With death, closure... whole freaking bottle of Jack."

"Are you?" Sam asked, way more serious now.

"Yeah. Because I know that Cas and Jess are dead, and I know they're not coming back." Dean was already fed up with the whole shrink game. "Alright, this is a safe place, right, Doc? Okay. My brother's delusional."

"Dean..."

"You said you wanted to give this a shot, right? Here we go." It wasn't every day he got a chance to vent out his frustrations, so Chuckdammit if he wasn't going to seize the chance now. "He won't even admit that Jess is dead. Won't even admit it."

"Stop."

"Because if he admits it, then it's real. If it's real, then he has to deal with it, and he can't handle that."

The younger brother couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

"Right, because this is so easy for you, uh?" he snapped, irked. "At least you had a chance at happiness, you had it for years and just let it slip from your fingers time and time again. But the moment I get one and decide to go for it, it disappears right in front of my eyes. And now I'm just supposed to accept that I will never have it?"

The mood in the room had turned sour, and the tension could be cut with a knife. Without adding another word, Sam got up and left.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After unexpectedly praising Jack for the first time, Dean felt there was somebody else he also needed to make amends with. Not that is was actually necessary, but... even if this was his brother, and even if both of them knew the crap they tended to throw at each other wasn't to be taken seriously, Dean still wanted to set things right.

With a couple of beers in hand, he headed to the library, where he knew Sam was still up.

"Listen, man, back at Mia's... I was out of line," he started, offering him one of the beers and looking down. "I'm sorry for being a... a dick lately. And maybe you're right about the kid. I mean, he tries, I'll give him that. Saved our asses today, so that's a win."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam murmured, accepting the apology but dealing with his own doubts. "What if you're right? About Jess. What if she's dead and I'm just in denial?"

"Don't say that," Dean replied, shaking his head.

Sam looked at him, both surprised and confused by the sheer sadness in his brother's voice.

"What? You've been wanting me to admit that since it happened."

"I know I have, but don't say that." His eyes wondered a little, unsure how to explain his words. "You... you're not the only one fighting with denial, I am too. I know it doesn't show, but it's there. What you said at Mia's..."

"I'm sorry about that, Dean, I didn't mean..."

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't matter. Sammy, there's something you don't know about," Dean breathed deeply, his voice lower. "Since the thing with Ramiel, and before Lucifer killed him, we... Cas and I, we... we were trying something. Together. And trying is the key word here."

The younger Winchester opened his mouth, aghast, but no word came out. What could he even say, seeing his brother consumed by sorrow and pain?

"Dean, I... I had no idea," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me that you were actually going for it this time?"

"There wasn't anything to tell about, not really. We were making it up as we went, there was no solid ground under our feet. It was... it was too new and too strange, suddenly changing our relationship to something different. We only kissed a little and that was all."

Dean stopped there, unable to keep talking. The memory of their last shared kiss haunted him, constraining his bleeding heart. He couldn't shake away the guilt he felt, knowing that the last time they kissed it had been an act of anger instead of love.

"So with Jess and Cas," he continued after a moment, "I need you to keep the faith for both of us, because right now I... right now, I don't believe in a damn thing."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I know what you hate, and I know who you love.

But there is nothing for you back there. Here, let me show you.

All the lies and truths of his very long life, getting tangled in a knot so tight that it was almost impossible to untie. Oh, the Cosmic Entity was certainly trying, torturing him with constant reminders of his many failures. But it wasn't enough, it would never be enough, because at the end of the rope...

"Come on, Castiel! Wouldn't you rather be a fond memory than a constant, festering disappointment?" the Cosmic Entity taunted him, kicking him in the ribs before petting him gently. "Just lay down and try to sleep, hmm? Think about it. Infinite peace, yes? No regrets, no pain. Kiddo, save yourself."

... At the end of the rope, there was still light. There was still warmth. There was still hope. Family.

"I'm already saved."

Dean... and Sam, and Jack, and Jess. They were missing him, of that he was sure. But it wasn't easy, the state of insanity and oblivion more and more tempting by the second. He needed to somehow get the upper hand against this unbelievable ancient being.

"I will stay awake, and I will keep you awake until we both go insane," Castiel grunted. "I will fight you forever, for eternity. Release me!"

Later, the last thing he remembered was the furious look on his doppelganger's face, practically seething with rage. But it didn't matter anymore, not when he woke up in a field to the sound of birds chirping, with the sun caressing his face and a breeze blowing through his hair. Castiel smiled and inhaled the fragrant aroma of nature.

At last, he was back.

Asmodeus was a whiny little bitch. I didn't like the character, that's the only reason I got rid of him as soon as possible.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!