Chapter Ten

"Crowley," Castiel growls.

"Back from the dead… again? That storyline's getting a bit old, chap."

"I have little say in that."

"It's only curious because I watched you die," Crowley says casually, "but we don't have to talk about it."

"Leave this place, Crowley. Now."

Castiel steps off the porch and levels himself with Crowley.

"Ah, well, I don't think so. You see, your being alive is news to me, but the escape of one archangel and his former vessel is not, and I rather want them back in their cage," Crowley says softly, "so if you don't mind, I'll take them back now."

"You will not touch them," Castiel says angrily. He looks back; Adam still stands by the door, frozen. Castiel pops next to him and pushes Adam behind him.

"Castiel, enough with the heroics! Why do you care? They just used you to get to heaven. Doesn't that hurt you at all?" he drawls. "I feel hurt just putting myself in your shoes."

"They are my friends. I help my friends when they need it," Castiel says calmly. "You will back down, Crowley, or I will force you back into hell."

"Oh, I plan on going back as soon as I get what I came for," he says with a sly smile. "It's all too clean up here."

"How did you—?"

"How did we get here? Followed you, you simpleton. You led us to the island at the border near earth. From there, we could follow your stench up here."

"But hell and purgatory—"

"Have merged, as has heaven, but heaven has maintained its distance, somehow. The stretch between purgatory and heaven is a bit too much for my taste. Can't tread water for that long," Crowley adds. "It just seemed easier to follow the beacon, you know? Now, let's make this painless; hand the boy over, and we'll leave you be."

"You keep saying we…."

"With good reason."

Four other demons flank Crowley, and between each pair are Michael and Kate, bound and gagged. Kate looks prepared to fall unconscious; her head rolls to the side. One demon shoves her, apparently trying to wake her, but he only pushes her to the ground. She moans.

"Mom!" Adam screams, running past Castiel.

"Adam—"

"Now, now, let the boy talk," Crowley says.

"Let her go," Adam says, his voice shaking. Castiel sees that his hand is wrapped around a gun he has in his bag, which he thankfully never removed.

"We can make a trade," Crowley offers. "You take her place, hmm?"

"Adam, don't listen to him!" Castiel interrupts. He turns to the demon. "I don't know why you want them, Crowley, but you will not take them."

"Well, it seems I already have half the packaged deal, though he doesn't seem to be in the same condition as when he left hell," adds Crowley. "What, powered down?"

Michael does not even look at him. Crowley shrugs.

"Adam, my boy. Come. It's a simple choice, really. You, or your mother. Hasn't she suffered enough?"

Adam lunges at Crowley, snarling. Castiel grabs his arm and reels him back.

"You cannot remove her from heaven," he says to Crowley. "It can't be done."

"Really? Says who? It's a free for all. Everything much… looser now, since your most recent passing," Crowley says.

"You did this."

"Eh, I'm not above taking partial credit. I own hell and purgatory, and heaven is next, now that you've shown us the alternative route," he replies, smiling slowly. "A king's a king, mate."

"I am not your mate," Castiel growls.

"Right, right, not this time. This is all getting a tad too soapy for me, so I'll be off. Keep the boy. He's useless to you, anyway. But if you want to have a chat about what happened, I have more answers than anyone else, Castiel—"

"Explain."

"Ah! But only when you bring me the boy, and the blade."

"What blade?"

"The blade of Lucifer," Crowley says, his already soft voice lowering to a throaty, almost reverent whisper. His eyes widen slightly. "You have it. How else could you have killed my agent without that blade of Dean's?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Castiel says. "You will receive nothing from me."

His eyes widen slightly.

"You have it," Crowley realizes. "Theories only went so far but how else could you have killed my agent without that blade of Dean's?"

"You mean this one?" Castiel says, pulling out the demon-killing blade from within his coat. "You are on my lands, Crowley. Do not test me. This blade will be in your throat if you don't release them."

"Bargaining with a demon, are we?"

"It's hardly a bargain when I can kill you."

"I didn't come in unarmed, you fool."

Crowley flashes a blade of his own and reflects the sunlight off it. Adam raises a hand against the glare.

"Funny thing is, that boy between us can be killed by anything, since he's not really dead," he says with a chuckle, "so I'd be careful just which steps you take."

Castiel lowers the blade.

"Consider the offer; you've been known to make the right choice in the past—future—whatever," Crowley rambles. He picks Kate up off the ground and brushes some dirt off her.

"Don't touch her," roars Adam. Michael stares at Adam, sheer panic in his eyes. Adam catches his gaze for a moment, but looks away quickly.

"See you around, boys," Crowley grins, flashing his teeth. "You know where to find me, and if I don't get the boy and the blade and everything else in three days, I'll know where to find you, and those won't be all I'll want."

He, the four demons, Kate, and Michael disappear.

"Dean says hello," Crowley whispers into Castiel's ear. He whirls around, coat spinning, but Crowley is nowhere to be seen.

Castiel drops the knife; it lands silently in the grass. Adam, who is already on his knees, picks it up. He holds the blade between his fingers. A line of blood forms on one fingertip but he licks it away and puts the blade down. Castiel is still looking around the yard, still searching. His heart pounds. He can feel the blood rushing in his ears; he can feel the humanity in him claw and tear a corner of his grace up.

Dean.

"Oi! Cas!" Adam shouts.

"Adam."

"You listening?"

"No."

"Well, listen. We've gotta get them back."

"Why would Crowley want the blade?"

"I dunno man; just give it to him—he's got my mom and Michael! Cas, he'll put Mike on the rack. I know he's a soldier and shit but, damn it, he's not ready for that. He hasn't figured out his boundaries as a human. He'll break."

"And what if he does?"

"He knows things that Crowley probably would wanna know. Secrets about heaven. Stuff he'd wanna know if he wants to take it over," Adam says. "We've gotta get them back. Cas… can he hurt my mom? Like, really hurt her? She's dead."

"He can torture her, but she'll be fixed up again at the end of each day in hell," Castiel murmurs. "Dean already knows that pain."

"Shit. You sure he has Dean?"

"Positive. Didn't you hear him?"

Adam shakes his head. His arms were shaking. Castiel led Adam toward the house, but thought better of it.

"We should leave. Crowley could come back."

"Fine. Fine. Just as long as the next heaven's got hard liquor, I'm down."

Castiel hesitates. The whole world is dead, and he cannot decide where to hide, even if only until Adam has his head back on his shoulders. Dean involuntarily crosses his mind and the image of the righteous man on the rack flashes before his eyes. It is one of the earliest memories he has of Dean Winchester. It is one he does not like to recall, since by the time Castiel reached him, he had climbed right off and dug a knife into the soul beside him.

These humans will break. Crowley will break them unless we can save them.

"Cas?"

"What will happen if I take this grace?" he asks Adam.

"All of it?" Adam asks. He looks up at Castiel as though he is a madman. His face is pallid and has a fine layer of sweat on it. "I dunno man, but nothing good. Can we just go? We'll talk when I don't feel like puking."

Castiel nods. He wraps Adam's arm around his neck and leans the boy against his shoulder. Castiel's mind settles on the only person he knows he can trust in heaven. He can feel his grace dwindling, but he decides he can refresh when they reach their destination. They are jerked forward, to the side, and then far backward. The ground beneath their feet is hard, like linoleum. The air smells of old pizza boxes and open beer bottles.

"Cas?"

Sam Winchester rises immediately from the desk by the window. He runs forward, taking Adam off of Cas, and deposits him on the nearest bed. He stares at the boy in complete confusion, running his hands through his long hair. Sam looks again at Castiel, speechless. He hugs him without warning. Castiel reciprocates stiffly.

"That was unexpected," he mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says. "Sam. It's good to see you."

"Same," he says, still in disbelief. "How—how the hell are you here? Are you alive? Or—Cas I saw you die. How the hell are you here, and with Adam?"

"Everyone seems to have witnessed my death," he says offhandedly. "Sam, it is a long story, but I believe you have one to tell me as well. Tell me what happened to me, to everything."

They wait for Adam to properly wake. Castiel decided to let him sleep, for the next few days would not be easy without rest. He and Sam instead sit on a bench outside the motel room, each with a glass of something strong and amber between their hands. They are, for the time, quiet, until Sam puts the drink down and turns to fully face the angel.

"Cas…."

"Sam, please. Just wait for Adam."

"No, I know, but it's not that," Sam says. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

He is smiling. Castiel smiles back, even though it is mostly forced.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asks.

"Fine."

"You… sure? 'Cause you look like crap, Cas."

"I…."

"Cas," Sam says. He puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder; Castiel turns to face him as well. "Please. Just… talk to me. Fill me in. Adam already knows what happened to you."

"Yes, my part of the story," Castiel says. "I died. I woke up, on earth. I was weak, and I walked around until I was close to being human. It was as if my grace was leaving me. I came to heaven and found it empty. No angels. Earth is devoid of life, too. It is very strange, and sad."

Sam's jaw tenses, a muscle jumping.

"Crowley did this," he says in a low voice.

"You're certain?"

"This was his way of stopping us from closing hell," Sam says. "It's… convoluted, but it worked, right? I'm dead. Dean's… god knows where. You're here."

"Crowley is still searching for things," Castiel says. He recounts what happened in Kate Milligan's heaven. Sam frowns more deeply. "He said some things, Sam. I didn't understand, but maybe you can help."

"Wait for Adam, Cas. I don't want to tell it twice," he says wearily. "So Crowley has Michael and Kate?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't Michael just smite them and be done with it?"

"He tore out his grace as soon as he emerged on earth," Castiel says. He pulls the bottle of grace out from under his shirt. Sam's eyes widen. "It is his grace, and Lucifer's. They killed him."

Sam's mouth hangs open. Castiel explains how they stole his blade when he came to pull Sam out of hell. He feels mildly uncomfortable, discussing some aspect of his blunder with the man who most suffered from it. Sam does nothing to make him feel worse, though. He simply nods.

"So Lucifer's dead, by Adam's hand," he repeats. Castiel nods. "Bet Crowley didn't see that coming."

"Most likely not."

"Crowley did this, Cas. I…."

He stops as the door opens. Adam steps out rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Morning," he says hoarsely. "Why the fuck did you let me sleep?"

"I thought you'd need it," Castiel says.

"We just lost two fucking hours, Cas! We've gotta go," Adam says, yanking Castiel by the sleeve. Sam clears his throat. "What? Oh."

Adam lets go of Castiel.

"Hey, Adam," Sam says. He smiles. Adam does not.

"Hi."

"Back in the mix?"

"Apparently."

"You want to sit?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Adam eases himself onto a chair Sam had pulled outside for him earlier.

"You dead?" Adam asks. Sam looks down for a moment. He half smiles, half laughs, but it's cold and sad.

"Yeah. I died right after you, Cas," Sam says. Castiel feels his limbs turn to stone.

"What happened?" Castiel asks. His heart pounds. Humanity presses against the back of his brain, little white spots dancing around the corners of his eyes. He looks down at his hands in his lap.

"We were fighting, Cas. All of us. It was a mess in there; we were totally outnumbered."

"I recall."

"And then more demons appeared. You were on one side of the room with Dean and I was near the back. I saw some light by you and I saw—I saw someone appear behind you and stab you right in the back. And then—god, I hate it. Dean. I'd never heard him like that. He caught you. I didn't see a whole lot; Dean was kinda in the way. Then, everything got really bright, and the imprint of your wings was everywhere, especially all over Dean."

Adam makes a face.

"Get your head outta the gutter, kid."

"And then?" Castiel presses.

"Crowley came out of the shadows, like he'd been watching the whole damn thing," Sam says, bitterness creeping in his voice. "He basically called off all the demons, gave a little speech about handling the tablets being in the hands of humanity—a load of cryptic bullshit. He said something to Dean, and you just disappeared. Then, a demon cut my throat. That was it. I've been up here ever since."

Silence settles between the three for a while. Castiel does not know how to respond.

"And?" Adam says.

"What do you mean, and?"

"There's more. There's gotta be more. You've gotta know something we don't."

Sam shifts in his seat.

"Sam. Please. Whatever it is, we must know," Castiel says.

"It's not pretty, Cas."

"Please."

"It was you, Cas. You're the one who popped out of nowhere and stabbed you in the back. That you, the one that just appeared, disappeared as soon as you started dying."

"You're fucking kidding me," spits Adam. "So it was him? The demons were actually right?"

"Well, they're in hell, with Crowley. They probably understood some parts of his plan," Castiel murmurs. "It makes sense."

"Cas…."

"No, no. Not because of what happened," he says impatiently. "Crowley made a comment—something about me, past or future, something rather strange. Perhaps that is what he meant."

"What? That you—that you, the one who killed you—was you from some other part of time?" Adam asks. "Crazy, man."

"Not necessarily," Sam says. "Motive's the only thing that doesn't make sense."

"It confuses me as well," Castiel agrees. "He said he wanted Adam, the blade, and some other things he did not specify. Perhaps he meant things that were involved with his dealings with the other version of myself."

"He seemed pretty pissed to see you alive," Adam says. "You coming back probably wasn't part of the plan."

"I assume not."

"So, what, you guys wanted to seal demonkind in hell and he decided to oust humanity as revenge?" Adam asks.

"Looks like it."

"And if it was me who helped him, that would explain the armory being empty, and the missing items from the vault. I must have supplied him with those weapons."

"It wasn't you, Cas," Sam says. "Hey. Come on. It wasn't actually you."

"Clearly, it was," he says, standing up. "Excuse me."

"Cas! Stop."

"We're not done talking!" shouts Adam.

"Give me a minute," growls Castiel. He turns on his heel and walks clear across the parking lot until he disappears from the heaven.

"Damn it," Sam says.

"That didn't go so well, smartass."

"You didn't help."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly! Okay. No. That's not the point. Cas'll come back," Sam says. "You heard things in hell?"

"Yeah. Mike and I got out of the cage—"

"How the hell did you do that?" Sam gapes. "Cas said it happened but—what the hell, Adam. Did you make a deal?"

"I didn't have much of a soul left to sell," he snorts. "Kidding! Soul's intact. I tried. Didn't work. Death did stop in once, when he came for your soul; he said he'd come back to chat, but the bastard never showed. Anyway, the walls just poofed one day and, bam, we were free. Ol' Lucifer wanted out, so I knifed him. Mike bottled the grace and we started clawing our way out of hell. It took forever to get to the border with purgatory, but damn it, we got out, one way or another."

Sam does not reply.

"Crowley and Cas. It's happened before, right?"

"Yeah."

"You think it's the Cas from then?"

"No. It wouldn't make sense."

"So you think it's a Cas from the future?"

"It's the only other option."

"But… that makes no sense. Why the hell would he help Crowley destroy humanity?"

"No clue. Cas is humanity's number one fan," Sam says quietly. "Something must've gone really wrong between that day and whatever future he came from."

"I guess," nods Adam. He pauses. "I heard things. I didn't want to tell him, but the demons were talking about Cas breaking into the deepest parts of heaven and stealing everything for Crowley. They said he forced the angels to leave, or he killed them. It all sounded majorly fucked up."

"Tell me about it," says Sam. "Really, though. Go on."

"They said he had some kind of deal with Crowley, and the details were really under wraps," Adam says. "They kept talking about some thing Crowley needed to get from heaven, but he couldn't, which is why he needed Cas's help. It turned into whatever the hell agreement they had in the end."

"The blade," Sam says.

"Yeah. He mentioned a blade—blade of Lucifer. You think that was it?"

"The blade of Lucifer?" repeats Sam. "I knew it was something—I didn't know it was that."

"Jesus. What the hell is it?"

"It's Lucifer's blade, Adam."

"I got that, Captain Obvious," he rolls his eyes. "How about some details."

"It's… legendary! Really obscure. Lots of people have talked about it, so it's really hard to say what it actually is, but everyone says Lucifer used his powers as an archangel to enhance it—to make it capable of killing anything, not just angels. It's kinda like the angel equivalent of the Colt."

"That gun I kept hearing about?" Adam asks. "Some demon mentioned it. Crowley wants it melted down or something."

"He would," Sam says. "So, if that's what Crowley wanted, then what was he going to do with it?"

"Kill shit?"

Sam glares at Adam.

"Kill Castiel?"

"Yeah, the one from the past, for some reason. But that can't've been it."

"No. Definitely not."

"Damn it," Sam says. "What else did Crowley want?"

"Me, and some stuff he didn't enumerate, that bastard. I have no fucking clue how he expects us to know if that Cas is long dead."

"There's gotta be a way."

Adam nods, suddenly somewhere far away. He wrings his hands before throwing them aside. Adam stands, eyeing the glass on the ground.

"You got more of that?"

"Take it," Sam says, handing him the glass.

"Thanks."

He takes the glass, downs it, and walks away from Sam.

"Going somewhere?" Sam calls.

"What? No. Just stretching my legs."

"Good."

Tense silence strings between them.

"There's one thing I just don't get," Sam says. Adam only turns around when he says, "Michael. Why'd he go human?"

Adam starts to blush and turns away again.

"Long story," he says, "but it was me, I guess. I got him to see that humanity's not all that bad."

"How? He's—he's Michael. He wanted the apocalypse just because God said so."

"Well, he doesn't anymore, since it'd've killed almost everyone," he says a little defensively. "He's not a bad guy, Sam. He was just… lost. Stuck on the only path he knew."

"Let me guess. You held his hand and led him astray?" he asks with a half-smile. Adam's face flushes in earnest now. "I get it. I've been around Dean and Cas forever. I know how that whole falling-for-humanity-in-two-different-ways thing works."

Adam returns to where they were seated.

"And I always thought I was good at hiding my true feelings," he says sarcastically, sitting down again.

"Are you worried?"

"About him?" Sam nods. Adam's face falls. "More than anything, other than my mom. I fucking hate Crowley. I want his head on a plate."

"Don't we all?"

"Yeah, well, maybe Dean'll get him before we have to save his ass."

"Save him? What are you talking about?" Sam says. "Is he—he's not alive, is he?"

"Uh, yeah. He is."

Sam nearly jumps out of his chair.

"Jesus—he's okay?" he yelps. "How the hell did he make it out alive?"

"Mike said Crowley took him to hell, alive, right when all this mixing of the afterlives shit happened, and he just got away. Ran to purgatory. He was hiding out in there, cutting down shit, until Mike showed up. We got separated, and he ended up there when I ended up on earth," adds Adam.

"So Dean… and Michael. They worked together?"

"Yeah, for a while. I know. Weird as fuck. But it happened. They stayed together until they got to the far end of purgatory near some island between there and heaven. Mike said it was the last pure piece of Eden, where the Tree of Knowledge is. I think he told Dean he'd be safe there, if he could get there."

"Michael left him there."

Rage sinks into Sam's face.

"He had to," Adam says, a desperate edge in his voice. "He had his grace and Lucifer's. That shit's strong—it was corrupting him, consuming him. Lucifer—that itty bit left of him—was trying to claw through Michael to the surface. Mike had to get out to earth to take the grace out. It was the only way to survive."

"He still left Dean there alone," fumes Sam. "I can't fucking believe this."

"He was going to be a bigger threat to Dean if he stayed there," Adam insists. "Lucifer, plus Michael's power, in a world of total fucking anarchy—that spells disaster. Dean couldn't have saved himself if he tried."

Sam sits back, crossing his arms. He purses his lips angrily.

"Look. Dean's alive. He was fine when Mike saw him a couple of days ago."

"You trust Michael?"

"Yeah. With my life. He got me out of hell, right?"

Sam shakes his head. "I still can't believe this. Any of this."

"Well don't go marching off like Cas, or I'll just drink all your booze."

Sam smiles involuntarily.

"Cas has been using Mike's and Lucifer's grace to make himself stronger," Adam says. "Cas came back without a lot of his grace, and he had a piece of the blade in his back, so most of what he had leaked out. I'm getting worried."

"You think he wants to take all that grace in?"

"Yeah, especially if it means he can go straight to hell and drag everyone out," Adam says. "I almost want him to, but damn it I know what it'll to do him. It'll destroy Cas, and you'll just have this… shell, filled up to the brim with righteous assholery battling evil."

"We can't let that happen," Sam says.

"Sam… there's no way he'll win against Crowley, or save Mike and my mom, or even Dean, if he doesn't juice up."

"He'll do it, too," Sam says. "He'll do whatever he has to in order to help us."

"Selfless bastard," Adam mumbles. "We can't stop him either."

"We can talk him out of it," Sam says. "We can try. We have to try."

"Yeah. Definitely."

"We can't drag his ass back, though, so can I ask something?"

"Shoot."

"Do you hate us? Dean and me, for not getting you out of the room before Michael came for you," Sam says. "Put aside whatever your feelings are for the guy. I'm serious."

"Hell, yes," Adam says plainly. "I told Cas I hoped we found you two so I could beat the crap out of you for damning me like that. Family's everything, huh? 'Cept I'm not family, not like you and Dean. I get that, Sam. You guys are more than blood. But Cas ain't blood, and I know you guys would go toe to toe with anyone to help him. But me? I'm your brother. You couldn't get me out. You couldn't kick the fucking door down in time."

"Adam—we tried—"

"That fucking paid off, didn't it?" he says. "No. No bullshit, Sam. Y'all preached all about family and how it's everything, but I didn't really see that in action. I'm actually blood. But that means nothing in the end."

"Family's more than just blood—"

"Oh, I know that. Mike's my family now. Cas—hell, even Cas is like a distant cousin, after all he's done to help me. But you and Dean…. Y'know, I get why you couldn't get me out of hell. The cage isn't a box you want to pry open when you've got Lucifer down there. I'd have never met Mike if it hadn't been for that shit that went down in that room, either. But, damn it, hell's a harsh place, and for ages all I could think about were you and Dean—how you'd find a way to get me out, since we're brothers, and I took a huge hit for the team, and I didn't deserve to rot down there. I got pulled in by force; I got tricked into the apocalypse! And for what? For nothing. So I thought you'd come for me, and when you didn't, all I could think about was about how you forgot me. How you didn't fucking try hard enough. You could have knocked that door down, Sam. Dean could have done it. Michael was coming, damn it, but if he really wanted Dean, he'd have let him in."

"Adam…."

"Goddamn it, Sam, just let me finish; I've had this all up here for hundreds of hell years, and goddamn it I'm gonna say it," Adam snaps. "Mike just needed someone, and I was good enough. He's the one who never made me feel like crap. Even though I wasn't exactly what he needed, he made me feel like more than he deserved in the end. I dunno how that happened, how the hell I even got that lucky. Michael's supposed to be this big, bad archangel, the leader of the angels in the fucking apocalypse, and you—you guys were supposed to be the good guys, the ones who didn't say yes just so more people could be saved. But what about me? Your brother? I fucking deserved to be saved. Mike got that better than anyone. Mike—goddamn it, Mike.

"He's going to die down there."

Adam collapses into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. He looks up with tears fresh in his eyes. Sam says nothing, does nothing; he let Adam talk and he lets Adam cry. Some things cannot be expressed with words. Eventually Adam stops, and he looks more angry with himself than anything else. Sam takes his glass and refills it. Adam takes it in sips this time, wincing from time to time.

"I'm sorry, Adam. Saying that doesn't fix anything, but I mean it," Sam says. Adam does not look at him. "You didn't deserve a damn thing, not the ghouls or hell or any of it. It's—it's not our fault things turned out this way, and we did everything we thought we could at the time, but maybe there was more. I don't know. It's… all long gone. It's still important and no one's gonna forget it, but… for now, let's focus on getting Michael and Kate and Dean back."

Adam grunts, drinking deeply from the glass. He empties it and puts the glass down on the ground.

"It's really quiet here."

"Dean's supposed to be here. I thought he was in hell."

"With Crowely? Or…?"

"More like the latter," Sam says. He looks away, ashamed. "He'd hate me for thinking it."

"Well, he's been enough of a dick to warrant at least a couple of years down there," Adam grins. "So, my turn. Can I ask something?"

"Sure."

"Dean and Cas. What was going on there?" Adam asks. Sam laughs.

"Oh, god. You want to actually hear about that?"

"Cas is my friend. He seems too… forlorn to talk about it," Adam says, wrinkling his nose.

"I'll give you a bit, but only if you tell me something else."

"Yeah? What'll that be?"

"Tell me about Michael—no, Mike. The human. The rogue archangel. He's… nothing like what he was supposed to be, and I just want to understand."

"You said you've seen all that falling-for-humanity crap before," Adam says.

"I'm still asking," shrugs Sam, "as your brother. Or friend. Or just the asshole who couldn't help you before but wants to help now."

Adam smiles thinly, but he sits back and lets one arm hang over the side of the chair, the other supporting his head.

"You first."