The next thing Dean knew was a familiar scent of old, moldy paper and a quiet crackle of logs smoldering in a fireplace. He was lying on something soft and smelly. When he focused, he recognized Bobby's and Castiel's voices coming from a certain distance or perhaps from behind a wall. He could not make out what they were saying, but from their tone he could tell they were both concerned and despondent.
Dean dared to move after a moment of hesitation. He was surprised and mildly terrified by the fact it did not hurt. He had expected broken bones and internal injuries, while all he felt was mild muscle soreness and a headache. Remnants of dizziness made reasoning a bit harder than usually, but he could assess he felt too bad to be dead and too good to be dying.
He sat up; the squeak of springs in Bobby's old coach alarmed the host and Castiel. They both entered the room. Dean frowned, having noticed how heavily the angel leaned on the doorjamb and how feeble he looked.
"How did I get here?" he asked with suspicion "You said no passengers last time... and you healed me. Why?"
Castiel sighed and sent his friend a sour look that clearly meant he was too jaded to answer stupid questions. He was deadly pale save for dark, grayish shadows under his eyes.
"Oh, cut it out! What the hell were you thinking, boy?!" Bobby chided in a pained, accusatory tone.
"You know what I was thinking!" Dean drawled out "What would you do?"
Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Anything but strapping on a nuke if you ask me..."
Winchester straightened up and licked his lips nervously.
"You don't get it. The king of crossroads crapped out. We don't have options."
"There are always options." Castiel insisted.
Bobby rubbed his chin and tilted his head; his angry expression was melting into something akin to pity. He asked softly:
"It's about Sam, isn't it?"
"Hell yes it is about Sammy. He killed himself. He fucking blew his brains out!"
"And you really think he would have wanted this, you idjit?"
"Damnit. Stop preaching!"
Dean stood up and paced through the room before he snapped:
"Tell me you didn't know. Tell me you didn't..." he choked back an angry growl.
Bobby and Castiel shared a quick, uneasy glance.
"He made us promise we would't burden you with this."
Dean squinted.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he is a goddamned Winchester!" Bobby snapped.
"We didn't know he was planning a suicide" Cas added cautiously, "I heard about it later, just in time to protect him so that he could be resurrected."
"All right, thanks for that, but you both knew how bad it was and you didn't tell me. If you decided to meet him behind my back you should have at least watched over him," Dean yelled, gesturing at Bobby "I can understand you couldn't do much, but you?" he turned to Castiel "You're one hella crappy guardian angel."
"Perhaps, but you need to trust me now," the angel made a step towards his friends on shaky legs, "You will gain nothing by saying yes to Michael. He can't beat Lucifer. Only you can do it."
Dean bristled:
"Why should I trust you?"
"Dean, hear him out," Bobby's firm order infuriated Dean even more.
"Why?" he yelled, pointing at Castiel and glaring at Bobby, "He screws up time after time! Did you even know that if his holiness had told me about Lilith instead of crapping out like a wussy nothing of this would have happened!"
"Haven't I redeemed myself for that?" Cas asked wearily.
"Oh yeah, because lying was a great way to do it!"
"I never lied to you."
"Please, don't give me that shit..." Dean's upper lip twitched in disgust, "You didn't tell about Sammy, it's as good as lying. Don't even get me started on how sick I am..."
"Shut up, for heaven's sake!" this time Bobby's yell was even louder and, surprisingly, it worked. Winchester and the angel turned to look at him. The older hunter heaved a deep breath.
"You," he snarled, pointing at Dean "shut your cakehole and listen. And you," he turned to the angel, "quit whining and tell him what you've told me."
After a moment of tense silence the angel sat on the couch, paying attention to sit as far from Dean as possible. Bobby steered his wheelchair closer. Cas began his story in a low, strained voice:
"You often wonder why I call angels my brothers and sisters if there are so many of us. You're right. There are countless angels; we consider ourselves siblings but I hardly know many of them. Lucifer, Michael, Raphael and Gabriel were different. There were created as soon as time started passing. In the beginning there were only them and our Father. They loved one another like a real family... but it changed. Before the first day of history our Father created other angels, then there was light, then the world, then humans. Archangels grew jealous. They thought our Father was out of his mind; they conferred and conspired, finally they agreed they would try to convince God that the world was imperfect and should be destroyed. Lucifer was too impatient. He betrayed his brothers and openly refused to accept the changes. His audacity enraged our Father so much that it rendered any reasoning or parley with Him impossible. If it was not for Lucifer, Michael could have proved his point, but instead he was forced to fight for a cause he did not believe in. Now, after all these millenia he still bears a grudge. He wants to fight Lucifer again only because he hates him."
"So what?" Dean cocked his head. Bobby rose his eyebrows in an unspoken warning.
"Dean," the angel insisted "it means that he will lose. You are the only one who is strong enough to defeat Lucifer, not Michael."
Winchester huffed.
"Cas, where was your brain when you were making mincemeat of me? You're just one little feathery bastard, all but drained, and you could have killed me with one hand tied behind your back."
The angel turned to face his friend; he moved a little closer in the process.
"But I didn't," he said, looking Dean in the eyes with the same amazed veneration that always sent a chill down Dean's spine, "It was what that I've learned from you that stopped me. I see the world the way you taught me to see it," Castiel spoke on, ignoring a little twitch of pain and disappointment that flashed through Dean's face. "Hatred cannot be a source of real strength, because it is fueled by self-love. It's so easy to give up when all one cares about is himself, but you... You never give up as long as there is anything worth saving. It has to be you."
Winchester gave each of his friends a long, pleading look. None of them budged. Bobby and Cas were both tense and expectant, though their insistence was underlined with sadness. Suddenly Dean felt small and insignificant, and betrayed.
"So what do we do?" he asked.
Bobby's badly masked sigh of relief did not escape his notice.
"We bring Sam over and you brats pull your heads out of your asses and talk."
"Then we try to figure out what exactly scared the king of crossroads off and we keep looking for the colt," Castiel's voice was gravelly and toneless again.
Dean clapped his thighs and stood up, then agreed with a fake cheer:
"OK. Let's do this. Just gimme a second. I... I need to wrap my head around it."
He walked out to the back yard and let the cold, damp air fill his lungs. He did not even have the time to fight the lump in his chest when he heard footsteps and felt Cas's presence behind his back.
"Dean, what's wrong?"
Winchester snickered viciously.
"You ask what's wrong? Everything," he turned to face the angel; he didn't care if Cas could see that his eyes were misty "Was this all you had to tell me? That's why you didn't finish me in that alley? Just because you need me?"
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He drew a sharp, quick breath and intended to speak, but this moment of hesitation was enough for Dean. He raged:
"Great. You two junkless sonsofbitches try to use me against Lucifer, you just can't agree on the way to do it. It feels fucking great to be the rope in a tug-of-war between two holy assholes. Why don't you two just meet and flip a coin, huh?"
"What are you talking about?"
Dean felt his anger was giving in to pain; he struggled to hide how stangled his voice was:
"I'm talking about you treating me like a doormat. You brought me here. I thought oh, great, perhaps we can finally talk like normal people and all you have to say that I can't let Michael ride my ass because you want to shove your hand up there and work me like a puppet? Is this who I am? A fucking pawn? Is this all I mean to you?"
Castiel made a few cautious steps towards his friend and reached out to his hand. Dean did not flinch away from his tentative gesture. Cas's cool fingertips skimmed the top of Dean's hand and wrist.
"Dean, you mean everything to me," the angel quavered "but for the rest of the world you are the one who can save it. Nothing more and nothing less. Believe me, I wish I didn't have to ask this of you."
For a long while they stood motionless and silent, tied by each other's gaze. Dean tried to keep his breath in check; it only made it louder and jerkier. Finally, the angel cast his eyes down and turned away. The hunter grabbed Castiel's arm and pulled it back; at first the angel tensed up instinctively and Dean felt there was no way to overcome this inhumane strength, but after a moment Cas's muscles relaxed and he let Winchester turn him around and push him onto a wall. He didn't fight back even when Dean locked his wrists in a firm grip on both sides of his body.
"What did you say?" the hunter rasped, bringing his face so close to Castiel's that he saw his pupils widen in shock.
"I said that..." the angel clammed up.
"Goddammit, Cas! What's your problem?"
There was a moment when an expression of fear crossed Cas's face, when he was close to pleading. The next moment the angel was composed and impassive again. He had no trouble wrenching his hands off Dean's grip.
"It doesn't matter now," he concluded.
Dean gritted his teeth.
"Yeah... Probably you're right."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bobby was finishing a phone call when Dean came back.
"I'll have a friend give you a lift so that you can get your baby here," he announced merrily, having put the phone down. Just then Dean's mobile started to ring. He winced at the name displayed on the screen.
"Yup?"
"Dean?" Chuck squealed. He was breathing heavily and his voice was wobbly when he babbled: "Dean, I had a vision. Sweet baby Jesus, it was big. You need to see me. Come. Please."
"Woah, slow down, man. Is something after you?" Dean made a reassuring gesture even though Chuck couldn't see it, then frowned at Bobby's snicker.
"Wh... What? No! It's about Sam. He's gonna... Jesus frickin' Christ!"
For a while Dean could hear only Chuck's jerky breath and a voice in the background that sounded like a TV speaker. Finally, the prophet wailed "Dean... Do you have a TV there?"
"Uhm, yes..." the hunter gestured towards Bobby's TV set. The older hunter handed him the remote.
"Turn one a national news channel. Is... is there a live transmission about a hurricane and an earthquake in Detroit?"
Dean confirmed. He was getting more and more anxious every second.
"Oh crap..."
Silence fell on the other side of the line after this exclamation.
"Chuck...?" Dean urged, "Chuck?!"
There was a silent, choked back whimper, then Chuck reeled off again:
"I don't understand. Last time the visions came in advance... Why now? I thought this broadcast was a part of it, but if you can see it too... Or maybe this call is still a part of this vision. Fuck! Is this a vision? Dean, are you a vision?"
"Chuck, for fuck's sake, nut up! Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened?"
The moment of silence on Chuck's side was even longer this time. The words that followed it froze blood in Dean's veins.
"It's Sam. He..." Chuck heaved a deep breath and finished almost noiselessly, "Sam said yes..."