I'd like to wish all of my readers a very Merry Christmas (if they celebrate it), and a very Happy New Year. Basically, Happy Holidays - any Holiday! Don't forget to slow down, enjoy life, and smile. Work and stress will always be there for you when you get back, so take your time in just getting a break. Thanks guys, for everything. Your kind words mean so much.

-Felicia

It had not taken the archangel long at all to get back into the swing of enjoying human pleasures. Sam Winchester sat at the small table by the window of the motel, watching as Gabriel lounged around on his brother's bed, munching on candy and flipping through several TV channels. Neither of them had spoken since Dean had left the room – and that had been hours ago. Impatience was running high for the younger brother, and research was not helping to cure it. He noticed, looking down at his laptop, that it had gone into the power saving 'screen saver' mode. Sam couldn't even guess as to when he'd stopped pretending to use it. Demonic signs were not exactly at the top of his priority list – even if finding Crowley was essential. There were far more important things on his mind – things he had to say, concerns he needed to voice – but it was difficult to know how to approach a conversation with an angel who had a very dangerous sense of humor.

"He hasn't gone out like this in a long time. Not since – not since Cas, anyway." Sam was finding his most current situation awkward, really; Gabriel, when he did look over at him, would not stop smirking. Gabriel seemed unaffected by the awkward tension. In fact, the longer the silences went on, the more candy the archangel consumed. Some things really never did change, even after death. Five minutes more of silence, and Sam was about ready to lose his mind. "So," he began again loudly, drawing Gabe from his current bite of caramel covered sweets. "I'm not letting Dean go back to Hell." The vague idea that Gabe had offered up earlier to Dean was not a good one, in Sam's opinion. Therefore, it was not a plan that Sam would ever let be put into action.

"And what," the angel was grinning again, raising an eyebrow, "are you planning on doing to stop him?" So maybe the two brothers owed their lives to Gabriel. Maybe they owed him for figuring out how to trap Lucifer, and thus avert the apocalypse. Still, the information was not enough to keep Sam's annoyed 'tut' from escaping his mouth. The arrogance was coming off the angel in waves, and it was making Sam want to punch him in the face. And he was supposed to be the 'nice' brother.

"Dean can't go back to Hell. He's not an angel, and I don't care what you say; a human cannot battle their way through Hell to retrieve a soul." Ever since Dean had even mentioned going to Hell, Sam was on high alert, ready to pounce on anything that seemed out of place. Gabe, however, looked completely at ease, joyful even. "Gabriel!"

"No need to shout kid, I can hear what you're saying. Really though, that doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you. Dean's a big boy, he can handle himself. I don't know why you're going around with your panties in a bunch over it." Gabe's voice dropped to the level of a mumble as he went on chewing his snacks, "I thought I'd taught you boys a thing or two about being able to save each other all the time."

"This isn't –," Sam was struggling to find his own voice, one of his fists clenching tightly into itself. "This isn't an average hunt, Gabriel." The words were coming out through grit teeth, forced from him only because of their high importance. "This is Hell. I remember – I remember that place. I remember seeing Dean after and he –," A pause, just to try and force himself to calm down, "He can't go back. Not for anyone. Not for Cas." God, if Dean heard him saying this – he was sure his older brother would have punched him several times already. But Dean's eyes after Hell – the way they had darkened – the nightmares, which had taken so long to go away. Sam's fist clenched harder as he spoke once again, his tone much more determined than it had been previously. "I won't let him." Sam watched closely as Gabriel rolled his eyes, and found himself tensing when the archangel was suddenly sitting across from him at the table.

"Kiddo – I really thought that we had learned our lesson, here. Your brother has a job to do, and he's going to do it. Heck, the guy wants to do it. So you really should shut your mouth, and learn to accept your brother's wishes. He accepted yours." The younger Winchester blinked. Accepted his? He was still hunting, after all these years of trying to get out. Dean was still angry with him for moving on with his life, for finding a woman, for trying to go back to law school. Dean was doing anything but accepting Sam's decisions, and the suggestion that Dean was even trying made the younger brother furious. "I'm not talking about that kiddie drama that you and Dean are involved in, by the way," Gabe went on, probably after having read Sam's thoughts, "I'm talking about him agreeing to let you say yes to Lucifer. For him agreeing to go see Lisa, only because you thought it would be good for him. And," Gabe was laughing now, and Sam felt his nails breeching the skin of his palm, "He's working on trying to be okay without your ass around to hunt with him. He grew up raising you, kid. 'Course he's going to have some reservations about you ditching out on something you both have done all of your lives. But Cas – him and Cas – they can hunt. You can go be a lawyer. Easy as that, really. All you have to do is shut your mouth and let him handle himself. Trust me. I know what's supposed to be done. Like I said before – I'm here because of the big guy upstairs."

The silence that followed Gabriel's speech was deafening, but Sam couldn't bring himself to answer. He didn't know when he'd started bleeding, but his palm looked disgusting. Little pinpricks of blood were forming right where his nails had been, removed only because he needed to call Dean. "No," Sam finally rasped, studying the archangel – who once again looked both painfully amused and annoyed – before pulling out his phone and dialing Dean's number once again.

"Another, please."

The beer was handed to Dean almost instantly, and not without another flirtatious grin. Goddamn, this chick was desperate. He'd shown no interest at all, and yet she continued to linger near his spot at the bar. Fuck, if he'd met her years ago, he probably would have taken her home. No doubt he would have shown her a good time. Now though, the only thing Dean found himself capable of was drinking more and more alcohol, hoping to god it would drown out the memories.

"Dean?"

Cas. Cas laughing, Cas smiling – Cas eating his first burger, using his first cell phone, drinking his first shots.

"Dean, I'm afraid I might kill myself."

Purgatory – Cas pulled away, and Dean hadn't known why. Now he did, and it made nothing better. Nothing was right without Cas, and Dean could not figure out, for the life of him, what was causing the emptiness he felt. Maybe it was that Cas' situation seemed eerily familiar. He could relate to not wanting to be saved – believing that no matter what anyone told you, you're not worth saving - and Dean, unable to stop the memories he'd long since tried to drown, was now seeing red.

"Aren't you tired, Dean?" Alastair's voice was always taunting, his whisper lighter than the wind, but fiercer than any monster Dean had ever faced. His tone was almost seductive in his ear, the razor so close that Dean could see his reflection glinting back at him. "Aren't you sick of all this pain?" Narrating his point, there was another stabbing burst of agony near Dean's abdomen – had to be from a barbed knife. Teary green eyes closed, and he wished to God that he would never have to open them again. Maybe today would be the day Alastair managed to kill him again – to rip his soul apart so well that he could never magically be healed. The silence never lasted long – the screaming never dulled. "Dean." The older Winchester knew that he would only shake his head, again, as he always did, before meeting the demon's eyes. This time though – it was different. His head would not shake. His eyes would not open. "No one is coming for you. Why are you tormenting yourself this way?" For the first time in thirty years, Dean found himself believing that the demon was right. That's what it was about, wasn't it? Believing in whatever was in front of him, whatever was tangible. Sammy wasn't tangible. Sammy was gone. He'd never be back. "Come on down, Dean." The voice was so gentle, so comforting, and Dean's mouth opened, a gurgle sounding from his choked cry as Alastair ripped apart his bones. No more sleep for Dean – no more dreams, only pain. Only screaming. Only watching as his brother burned, not knowing if it was real or not. Watching as his friends perished, one by one, and unable to help because he was stuck on the rack. And the pain – fuck, the pain – it got worse, and worse, and worse, and worse, and Alastair – he never let up, never comforted, never soothed, and his bones were being crushed to dust and Sammy was burning in front of his eyes and –

"Sign me up."

For so long, Dean had believed that his pitiful excuse for a soul was not worth saving. And now Cas was in Hell, for him, and that was so fucking unacceptable that the hunter felt physically ill. He blinked, seeing red, seeing the fire, the blood, the tears – but it would be worth it. He would go through it, over and over, would tear himself apart, would torture any demon in his way –

So long as it meant that the goddamned angel finally realized – as Dean had – that he was worth saving. Cas deserved to be saved.