Chapter 10

Dean slammed his latest lore book closed and shoved it to the side. Another bust. There just wasn't much on angels, let alone spells powerful enough to de-age one. Sam gave him a sympathetic look from across the card table before returning to his own tome. Dean didn't pick up the next volume in the stack, but shifted his gaze to Cas, who was lying on his stomach on the floor, sketchbook open in front of him, colored pencils arrayed like scattered feathers. Kid was the happiest camper after Sam presented him with the drawing pad, and watching his eyes light up with excitement had brought a smile to Dean's face.

He felt a twinge of guilt; he wished Cas didn't have to go back to fighting a war, to risking his life or being…miserable. Granted, he couldn't stay a kid forever. But…Dean had actually enjoyed his time with little Cas. And how screwed up was it that he almost wished his best friend could stay this way—innocent and…happy.

Happiness ain't in the cards for us, he thought bitterly. And since Cas had become an honorary Winchester, it wasn't in the cards for him either. Still, this picturesque moment was something to treasure.

Cas set his pencil down and bounded off the floor with the sketchbook, which he presented to Bobby. "Dean said I should make this for you."

Bobby didn't say anything for a long moment, causing Dean and Sam to exchange piqued looks. Curious, they both leaned over to try to see what Cas had drawn.

Bobby took the drawing pad from Cas and studied it some more, then flicked an indignant look Dean's way. "Did he now?"

Dean glanced at Sam again. Okay, what'd I do? Sam just shrugged, still unable to see the drawing either.

Bobby held up the sketchbook toward them, and Dean nearly choked. The likeness was uncanny, all the way down to the bristling beard and wrinkled forehead. Dark eyes glowered at the viewer, and if Cas would just add a shotgun, they could post that portrait in the window as a 'Beware of Homeowner' sign.

Dean raised his palms at Bobby's accusing expression. "I did not tell him how to draw you, I swear."

Sam tried clearing his throat to cover a laugh. "You gotta admit, it's a perfect resemblance."

Bobby scowled in an almost exact replica of the sketch, and Dean nearly choked again trying not to laugh.

"I do not always look so constipated," Bobby groused.

"You're curmudgeonly," Cas corrected.

Dean burst into a fit of laughter, as did Sam. They both tried to control themselves, but whenever they caught sight of Bobby holding that sketch, it started all over again. Cas stared at them, mouth quirking as though the mirth was contagious, but also looking perplexed as to what was so funny. It was so adorable, it only made Dean laugh harder. His stomach muscles ached, and Sam's face was red, but they just couldn't stop.

"Are they okay?" Cas asked Bobby.

The older hunter rolled his eyes and handed the sketchbook back to him. "They're idjits. Why don't you go draw these two stooges with their mouths hanging open like that. Don't forget that particular shade of pink they're turning right now."

Cas giggled. "If they're not careful, lightning bugs might fly in their mouths."

Bobby blinked dubiously. "Yeah, sure, draw some of those too." He shot another scalding look at the boys. "Right inside their giant traps."

Dean wiped at his eyes. "Come on, Bobby, you know the kid's got you pegged."

"Good ole, grumpy, Uncle Bobby," Sam pitched in, spurring another round of snickering.

"I'm surrounded by infants," the older man muttered, and huffily went back to the book he was reading.

It was hard for Dean to get his focus back after that. Not that he'd had much to begin with. He got up to go into the kitchen and make a sandwich, when the flutter of wingbeats disturbed the air.

"Balthazar!" Cas exclaimed, and jumped up. Balthazar looked momentarily stunned as Cas threw his arms around the taller angel's legs in an excited hug.

"Uh, hey, Cas." He awkwardly placed a hand on the kid's head. "The Winchesters been taking good care of you?"

Dean tensed; he was not looking forward to mentioning Hel to the angel. But he apparently didn't need to worry just yet, because Cas nodded enthusiastically.

"They make me hot chocolate. And look! Dean got me pencils and Sam gave me a sketchbook." Cas whirled around to scoop up his drawing pad and proudly show it off.

Balthazar looked taken aback once more, and it was almost amusing how easily Cas could make the smarmy dick off balance. Balthazar cleared his throat, and there was an odd catch in his voice. "That's great, Cas."

"So you just stoppin' in to say hi, or do you have something?" Dean interrupted.

Balthazar shook off whatever private thoughts he was entertaining, and turned a haughty glare on the Winchester. "Not that you'd appreciate how much effort it took, but I did figure out the spell Castiel's assailant intended to use. As suspected, it was meant to extract information."

Dean glanced at Cas, who was once again doing that intentional-ignoring-of-topics-he-didn't-like by focusing on arranging his colored pencils in a rainbow line.

"So how'd this happen?" Bobby asked gruffly, gesturing to the oblivious kid.

Balthazar crossed his arms. "The ingredients accidentally interacted with the binding sigil, which happened to have his name. Frankly, it's a bloody miracle he didn't explode."

Dean's stomach churned. "I shattered, and I couldn't find all the pieces," echoed in his mind in Cas's small voice. He swallowed hard. "Cas said…he said he shattered. There aren't literally pieces of him floating around, are there?"

Balthazar's gaze flicked to the kid-angel. "No. His grace is all there, but in a sense…yes, it's shattered. He's a fledgling, but with most of his adult memories in tact. It leaves everything…a mess."

"How do we fix it?" Sam spoke up.

Balthazar dropped his arms to his sides. "I rounded up all the same ingredients, and if we mix them over a sigil of his name, paired with the opposite of a binding trap, it should theoretically reverse the results."

"Wait, you're not sure?" Dean took a menacing step toward the angel, forgetting for a moment that the guy could smite him with a snap of his fingers. But they sure as hell weren't going to take chances with Cas's life.

"This whole thing was a random accident," Balthazar retorted. "There's no formal spell, and therefore no counter. All we can do is try to reverse it and hope for the best."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "That's your solution? 'Hope for the best'? I thought Cas was your friend? Your brother? And you're willing to risk him over a 'maybe'?"

"You think I like this?" Balthazar snarled, taking a step forward. Static crackled on the air, and Dean gave ground without thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bobby reaching for a gun in the desk drawer.

"I would do anything for Castiel," Balthazar seethed. "He was my brother long before you hairless apes crawled out of the muck. But there is no precedent for this, no one we could ask for a second opinion. Except maybe dear old dad, but we all know how reliable he is," he added scornfully.

Dean wanted to argue, but the damn angel had a point. And Dean hated it.

"Please don't fight," Cas's small voice broke in.

Both Dean and Balthazar turned their heads to where Cas stood, clutching a handful of pencils to his chest. Dean wanted to reassure him, but he could feel himself radiating frustration and tension, though not all of it was directed toward Balthazar, just at the situation itself.

Sam was the one who moved to kneel next to the little angel. "They're just worried. Remember how sometimes that can sound angry?"

Cas flashed a skeptical look their way.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sam's right, Cas. I'm sorry for yelling again."

Cas hesitantly made his way over, slipping a hand into Dean's. "I don't want you to worry."

He couldn't help but smile, and squeezed back.

Balthazar lowered his voice as he leaned toward Dean's ear. "He can't stay like this."

Dean knew it was true, and yet it terrified him to perform some harebrained, untested spell on Cas. What if it didn't help? Or what if it made things worse? He lifted a hardened gaze to Balthazar. "You sure about this?"

The angel's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he glanced at Cas again. "We don't have another choice."

Right, when did they ever?

Dean gave a sharp nod. "What do you need?"

"I have the ingredients, but we'll need something to draw the sigil."

"I'll get the spray paint," Sam volunteered.

Bobby heaved himself out of his chair. "Guess I'll clear a spot out back."

Cas bounded after him. "I want to go outside."

Bobby grumbled under his breath, but didn't turn the kid away. They both departed, leaving Dean alone with Balthazar, who was staring at one of Cas's drawings on the floor next to his feet. He slowly bent down to pick it up, holding the paper with more care than Dean had seen the angel exercise…ever.

"Castiel was always an artist," Balthazar said softly. "He used to paint the sky with clouds and colors."

Now it was Dean's turn to be taken aback—aside from kid-Cas's penchant for drawing, Dean never would've guessed Castiel, angel of the Lord, was anything more than a soldier. "I didn't know that," he said in a quiet voice. There was a lot he didn't know about his 'best friend.'

Balthazar set the drawing on a side table. "It's been a long time since he's done it." In a swish of wings, he was gone, presumably outside after Bobby since angels could rarely be bothered to use doors.

Dean turned in a half-circle, roving his gaze over the colored pencils and sketchbook. Gathering them up, he set them on the table where they wouldn't accidentally get stepped on, and then went to join everyone.

Sam brought out a can of white spray paint and started outlining swirls and whorls according to a sketch Balthazar had provided. Dean recognized some similarities with the drawing Cas had made before, probably the angel's name in the equation. Said angel was standing off to the side, watching the activity with an ever-increasing frown. Crap, what they were doing was probably going to trigger a flashback.

Dean walked over and crouched down to Cas's eye level. "Everything will be okay, buddy." He hoped to God it was true.

Cas turned solemn eyes toward him. "I don't want to leave."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean assured. "This will change you back to normal."

"Which means I leave."

Dean felt an annoying tightening in his chest. Dammit, it wasn't his fault Cas always left…was it? "You don't have to." Except, there was that whole war in Heaven thing. Dean ran a weary hand down his face. "Listen, Cas, I know things have been…off, between us. But you'll always have a place here, when you want. You're family."

Cas smiled shyly. "I'd rather be here."

Dean didn't know if that was mostly kid-Cas talking or not, but he smiled back and patted his shoulder. "Good."

He stood up and turned to face the spell preparations, when a puff of air heralded the arrival of someone Dean had never seen before. He instinctively tensed at the man suddenly standing between him and the others, long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. By the suit, Dean guessed 'angel,' and he shot Balthazar a 'what-the-hell' look; the douchebag hadn't mentioned bringing company.

Balthazar stilled from where he was mixing the spell ingredients, expression a mask of impassivity. "Obadiah…" he said slowly. "What a surprise. Checking up on me?"

The strange angel's eyes gradually roved over the setup, but he had as much of a poker face as most winged dicks. "I saw you gathering some rather unusual spell ingredients," he began. "I thought perhaps you had found a way to locate Castiel, and wanted to offer my assistance."

"Well, thanks," Balthazar drawled. "But I'm sure you have better things to do."

"You do not think retrieving our leader is of the utmost importance?" 'Obadiah' countered.

Dean felt small hands clutch at his jeans, and glanced down to find Cas trying to hide behind him. The hunter's guard immediately went up. He wanted to tell the intruder to get lost, but didn't want to draw his gaze. It didn't matter, because a second later Obadiah was appraising him…and his eyes narrowed on Cas. The strange angel scrutinized him for a long moment before sucking in a gasp.

"It can't be…" He threw a questioning look to Balthazar for confirmation. No one said anything, but the tense look on everyone's faces was answer enough. Obadiah turned his attention back to Cas. "What happened to him?" he asked cautiously.

"Don't know," Dean spoke up quickly, before anyone else could. "Cas isn't able to say." He did not like the way this guy was eyeing Cas, and shifted to block his view.

Obadiah flicked his gaze back to the sigil Sam had been painting, and then to the ingredients Balthazar had. "This is…an interesting approach." His jaw worked as though there was another question rolling around on his tongue that he was afraid to let out.

The others were regarding him with equal suspicion as well. "Why were you in the archives when you're supposed to be scouting Raphael's holdings?" Balthazar asked coolly.

Obadiah drew his shoulders back. "That is dangerous work. I thought I might find a spell of concealment."

"Or a spell for something else."

The two angels stared unflinchingly at each other for several long moments before Balthazar spoke again, slowly, and with an air of authority Dean had never heard from the normally blasé angel. "I've got this covered. You can go."

Obadiah's mouth thinned, and he glanced at Cas cowering behind Dean. The poker face cracked with resignation. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"It was you," Dean accused. "You trapped Cas and did…this to him."

Obadiah canted his head curiously at the child. "This…" he gestured vaguely. "Was not my intention. In truth, I thought he'd died in the unfortunate accident."

Dean's blood started to boil, and if he wasn't busy shielding Cas, he might've tossed common sense out the window and charged forward to punch the guy.

"You little prick," Balthazar snarled.

Obadiah raised his palms. "Castiel left me no choice, Balthazar. He wouldn't use the heavenly weapons. You know we're outmatched." The angel's expression morphed into contempt. "But Castiel is too noble; he won't use the one advantage we have!"

"He has his reasons," Balthazar retorted.

Obadiah scoffed. "Yes, he thinks the other angels have been deceived and deserve the chance to repent. You know what they deserve? Judgment."

Dean did not like where this was going. He saw Bobby slip a knife from his belt and move the blade to his forearm, but Sam stopped him. If he was thinking of an angel banishing sigil, then they'd lose Cas too. Dean half turned and picked the kid up, still angling him away from Obadiah, but determined not to give the bastard a chance to snatch Cas away like Hel had.

Obadiah turned back to them. "I regret how things played out, but I just needed information."

Dean's arms tightened around Cas. "Well he can't tell you now. Your spell scrambled his memories."

Obadiah frowned, and glanced at Balthazar.

The Brit shrugged. "If I'd known you were behind this, we wouldn't be standing here right now."

"Hm. Well then, you must know where the weapons are, Balthazar. Since you stole them in the first place. You can bring them to me."

Balthazar snorted. "And why would I do that?"

Obadiah quirked a genuinely perplexed look at him. "Because you want us to win the war, don't you? Or do you truly have no allegiance aside from personal gain? Which, still, defeating Raphael will benefit you."

Balthazar's eyes hardened, and he flicked a brief look at Cas. "I have allegiances, which is more than can be said for you."

Obadiah regarded him for a long moment. "Alright then. I will give you one hour to deliver the heavenly weapons to me. If you do not, well…" Obadiah shrugged. "I will be forced into more regrettable actions."

He disappeared in a flutter of wings, and for a moment Dean thought they were safe. But a split second later, a hand clamped around his shoulder, and Bobby's yard disappeared in a whirl of wind and light. Dean stumbled when his feet touched solid ground in the next instant, and he almost lost his balance with Cas still in his arms. They were in a dingy warehouse, light dimly filtering through browning windows. There was a sigil on the floor several feet away, one Dean immediately recognized. He backed away from it, heart rate kicking into overdrive.

Obadiah appeared in front of him. "I see how Castiel escaped now," he remarked, holding up a pair of sigiled cuffs that were obviously too large to fit around Cas's tiny wrists. The little angel made a distressed sound in the back of his throat and clung tighter to Dean.

"Back off, asshole," Dean snapped, recoiling another step.

Obadiah ignored him, studying the manacles with a thoughtful mien. He yanked the chains from the cuffs as though they were no stronger than twigs, and then turned to rummage through a pile of rubbish. Dean ran his gaze over the warehouse, searching for an exit. Yet even if he found one, he likely wouldn't get far when the angel could simply zap over to intercept any escape attempt.

A clatter rang out as Obadiah lifted up a long length of chain. He placed the last link on the ends between his palms, along with the clasps on the cuffs. Light glowed for a brief moment, and when he opened his hands, the chain had been welded to the manacles. Obadiah turned and strode back toward Dean. He retreated instinctively, trying to shield Cas away from the angel, but of course he didn't get far. Obadiah flicked his wrist, and the chains whipped up and around Dean three times before the manacles snapped over his own wrists. Cas let out a whimper, his body slumping heavier in Dean's arms.

"That will do," Obadiah said, and then pivoted on his heel to walk away.

Dean shifted against the chains, but they didn't budge. He craned his neck to look at Cas, who had dropped his head onto Dean's shoulder, eyes wide and terrified, limbs rigid even as they seemed slack. The sigils might not be doing anything to Dean, but they were apparently exerting a binding force on Cas. So much for the kid being able to fly out of there. Dean wracked his brain for a plan, but was coming up empty. Even though he wasn't tied to anything, how far was he gonna get with chains keeping his arms full of kid-angel? Not to mention he had no idea where they were. Hell, they might not even be in Sioux Falls anymore, or the damn state.

Dean let out a breath full of tension. They were in deep shit.