Synopsis: Sam Winchester buried his brother on a Saturday. Exactly two years later he returns to the grave and finds it recently excavated. The area surrounding it is blown apart like a bomb went off; the body is nowhere to be found.

Dean is offered two choices, say yes to Michael in heaven or say yes to Alistair in hell. What if, in true Dean Winchester fashion, he says yes to both? What happens when a human plays both sides of the celestial table? What can he become? And what if the soul returned to the body is one that is "out of time"?

Legalities: Supernatural belongs to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. I am not making any money off this, I am simply playing in the brilliant sandbox that Kripke created when he thought of the Winchesters and their supernatural world.

NO SLASH. This is set in an off-shoot of canon and is ultimately based in an alternate universe. Brotherly moments only. Rated-T for violence and mild-language. I will post updates on Wednesdays and Sundays, unless I get an enormous response in which case I may post earlier.

Chapter 11

Allies

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "I know. That's why I'm here."

The angel's response made no sense to him, but then again Dean was also having a tough time keeping his failing body upright. So was it really such a surprise that he was alos having difficulty grasping the gravity of that single sentence? He lifted his grief and pain filled eyes, "What?" he rasped out.

The angel took a slow step in his direction and Dean found himself backing up involuntarily. He was no shape to take on an angel at full strength. Hell, the way he was feeling, Bobby could probably take him down. The sudden sense of betrayal that thumped him in the back of the head reminded him that Bobby Singer was one hell of a hunter and 'no', Dean probably couldn't take the old man down. Not that he wanted to. That thought surprised him. Since he'd crawled out of hell the only thing that had even registered as human had been Sam.

Although that shouldn't have been much of a 'wow' moment either, his little brother would always own a piece of him. Dean had freely and willingly given that piece to Sammy the day he'd hauled his tiny squirming brother from the burning house in Lawrence, Kansas.

He watched as the angel took a long slow breath before quickly covering the ground that had separated them. Before Dean knew what was happening the angel had grabbed his cuffed hands. He started to spin around intent on taking out this asshat, but a soft 'click' and the sudden rush of power stopped him. His power return with the force of a category 1 hurricane blowing through his system; each beat of his black heart sending new waves of pain coursing through him, each one exponentially worse than the one before.

The world blurred and his knees buckled. Dean hit the ground with a solid sounding thud, his hands clutching at his head like they could stop the skull-splitting agony. The feeling of slight pressure on his shoulder was the first thing that didn't hurt like a son of a bitch. With the contact came slow relief from some of the pain. For the first time in days he was able to reach out with his mind with only mild fiery tendrils burning along his entire body. Slowly he flipped his long body over and scooted back until he was leaning against the Impala. The gravel pulled along his jeans and there was a rock digging into his left ass cheek, but at least he was somewhat upright.

Glancing down, Dean finally realized that the angel had removed the cuff on his left wrist. The skin was slowly shifting from charred black to something that looked like severe sunburn. Shock nearly stole his voice, but not quite. "Why?" he rasped out, lifting his gaze until it rested on the man in the trench coat. Castiel was placing the strange looking key back inside the inner coat pocket of the coat. "You said you didn't have that." Dean accused.

"I did not. But my brothers were intent on you and Sam, they were not paying attention to what I was doing. I 'borrowed' the key from Uriel." The angel took a step back as he watched the power slowly make its way through Dean's body. At Dean's incredulous look he continued. "Let's just say that our interests in this matter are the same."

With the cuff off one wrist at least Dean was able to heal some of the damage done to his body. Jade green eyes turned to look up at the angel, "Thought you said I was an 'abomination'?" He hadn't missed the fact that this 'Castiel' had not completely removed the power-dampening cuffs, which meant that he didn't trust Dean. Which was smart because Dean didn't trust him either. Smart. Very smart feathers.

"I did." Castiel answered coldly. "And you are. But you also represent the best chance at stopping my brothers from destroying the world." He stared down at the surprised man.

Dean held up his right wrist, the request clearly evident by his actions.

"No. The cuff will remain on one wrist for the time being. If you try and remove it, there are safeguards in place. If you try and take the key, there will be consequences."

The injured man snorted. "There are pretty shitty consequences if it stays on my arm too." He held up the partially healed left arm.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the insulting sound. "The poison that I have dampened in your system can be reactivated and you will cease to exist if it runs its course."

"Don't you mean I'll have my soul 'burned back to hell'?" He'd been in pain when the archangel had been present, but he hadn't been entirely deaf to the threats.

The dark haired angel shook his head. "No. The poison destroys the demonic and angelic without discrimination."

"That doesn't sound like a great thing to have lying around heaven." Dean coughed and instantly regretted it as his body reacted to the movement. Shit, that still hurt.

"Get these off me." He growled angrily. "I can't save my brother this way." He glared at the silver cuff. "It handicaps what I am."

Castiel pressed his lips together and finally shook his head again. "I know that Dean. And that is why they stay on. I am unwilling to trust you anymore than you trust me."

Grabbing the hood of the Impala Dean lurched to his feet, swaying slightly. "You wanna know what might make me trust you more?" Again he lifted his wrist. There was a patch of reddened skin starting beneath the white gold. It hadn't blistered yet, but that wasn't too far behind.

"Working with you is a necessary evil. I will not let you loose on the world." Castiel moved away, pulling an angel blade from inside of his coat and tapping it against his leg in a silent threat that was not lost on Dean.

His eyes dropped to the blade before flickering back up to meet the intense blue of the angel's gaze. "Not a great way to build trust. How about we try a trust fall exercise. No powers, you go first." It was that exact moment that his mind chose to throw more of his future/past at him. Only this time he saw both Sam and himself inside a burned out church. His brother looked like death warmed over. His face was beat all to hell and he was bleeding from a deep gash on his left palm.

A man that Dean didn't recognize was tied to a chair with what looked like puncture marks on his neck.

"Sammy stop!" This time Dean wasn't just an observer. He was the one begging his brother to see the truth in his words. Sam's arms were glowing with a soft golden light that scared the shit out of him. Whatever his brother was into, it wasn't going to end well. Somehow he knew that if Sammy finished the spell, the one he'd been reciting when Dean had burst through the double doors that he would die.

"Hold on. Hold on! You really think that?" Dean could feel the sting of tears behind his worried eyes. This was the brother that he'd sold his soul for. The one that he'd spent a year in purgatory fighting to get back to. And he thought that Dean gave a damn about anyone but him? Benny had saved Dean's life more times than he could count, but he had been a poor substitute for Sammy. "It has never been like that. I need you to see that. I'm begging you."

Sam's face was a mask of pain and fear. It nearly vibrated off the kid in waves. Dean felt his own nerves fraying at the edges as he watched his brother consider the truth of his words. Dean had never known that Sam's biggest sin, as far as his brother was concerned, was how many times he'd failed Dean. Because of all the things he remembered about his baby brother, 'failure' wasn't one of them.

Hell, he'd been poisoned by the supernatural when he'd been four years old. That wasn't exactly Sam's fault. He had tried to believe that people were inherently good, at least in their core, and that belief had ended with a knife in his back. A fresh wash of grief penetrated his heart at the sheer devastation he'd felt the moment Sam had crashed to his knees in the mud. He still wished it had been him that put a bullet in Jake. In that moment there had been nothing that Dean wouldn't have given to have his brother back.

Sam looked away, battling his own demons for a moment before finally saying, "How do I stop?" His voice trembled with emotion and he swayed slightly.

Relief flooded through Dean at those four words. "You just let it go." He pulled his brother into a hug. "Just let it go." He could feel the heat radiating off of Sam as his damaged body trembled against him.

The faint golden glow slowly faded from Sam's forearms. He leaned away from Dean holding his arms out for his inspection. Dean smiled. "See."

Dean didn't realize that he'd crumpled against the hood of the Impala as the memories embedded themselves in his skull. He didn't see the surprised expression cross Castiel's face as he watched the whole thing.

Once he'd regained control of himself the angel moved closer, "Dean, what was that?"

A feeling that resembled warmth settled in his chest at the slight concern he heard in the angel's voice. He didn't know where it was coming from, but somewhere deep down he liked this Castiel and he was fairly certain that the angel liked him too. Although why either of them would feel that way was beyond him. So Dean buried the unwanted feeling under sarcasm and anger. "When I feel like caring and sharing? I'll give ya ring."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at that. "You're lying."

"I only promised Sam that I wouldn't lie. You on the other hand are open season." Dean was starting to have a hard time discerning his current feelings from the ones he was being fed about his other life. If he ever got his fingers on that reaper, he was going to kill her. A flash of a scythe cutting through the air only to come to a jarring halt the moment it made contact with a skeletal man flickered through his head. "Enough already." Dean growled through clenched teeth.

Curiosity was a feeling that Castiel was unused to and he didn't much like it. But it did make him ask, "Enough of what?"

"Just forget it. How do I find my brother?" Dean's words were low and strained when he spoke of Sam.

Castiel looked off into the distance. "We need to visit an old friend of yours; an old hunter friend." The angel reached out and pulled Dean away from the car.

As much as he wanted to stab the bastard for what he'd done to Sam, Dean knew that he didn't stand a chance of finding his brother without the angel's help. His own power was too weak, he could feel it again, but he couldn't access enough of it to be useful.

He shook his head and snorted, "Bobby? He'll take one look at me and you and gank us both."

The angel raised an eyebrow, "Gank? What is a gank?"

"You know what? Just never mind." He turned and made his way to the driver's seat. When the angel didn't move he tapped the top of the car. "We aren't leaving her here."

"It is does not have a gender, it is a car."

"No. She's a lot more than that. Just get the hell in before I change my mind."

SPN SPN SPN

Sam clawed his way back toward consciousness. The thrum of pain along his neck let him know that he'd been choked out recently. He would recognize that sick groggy sensation anywhere, and he hated it with a passion. He and Dean used to do it to each other as kids, part of their father's training. It was an effort to teach them to catch each other off guard and then submit their opponent into unconsciousness. It never occurred to either of them that he and his big brother should never have been on differing sides of that equation.

Dean generally won the games involving tactics. Sam hadn't missed the massive headaches that always came with losing a game.

He shifted and found his movements tightly restrained, it took him a moment to realize that he was suspended. Sam's hands were tied above his head and his toes were barely skimming the ground. His head rolled forward onto his chest as he assessed the state of the rest of his body. Luckily he didn't seem to be hurt anywhere other than his neck, and for that he was grateful. Swallowing the sick feeling in his gut, Sam glanced around. He was in a small room, very little light, and he was completely alone. Which meant that those angel dicks hadn't taken Dean when they got him.

He'd seen just enough to know that Dean had gone down hard after the big angel had cut him. The injury wouldn't normally even register, but it had completely incapacitated Dean; and those damn cuffs were still dampening his power.

The last image that Sam had was of his brother's worried eyes, his black-green demon-angel eyes. None of this was making sense, demons weren't supposed to be able to care. One thing that Sam knew for certain was that whatever Dean was now? It wasn't any kind of normal.

"You're awake." A voice dripping with contempt said from somewhere to his left.

Sam's head swiveled in that direction, he couldn't stop the surprised breath when the angel walked out of the darkness. He was wearing a dark blue suit and a severe frown.

"Yeah, that tends to happen." Sam quipped; he pulled at the manacles that held him immobile, they didn't budge.

"Ah, funny guy." The angel walked around Sam, his dark eyes raking over the young human with such distain that Sam could almost taste it. A large hand lifted and tilted his head from side to side and then dropped down his chest before stopping just above his heart. "You're going to help us, Sam." He said with a confidence that stunned and horrified Sam.

"Like hell." He twisted and tried to stretch out when his calf cramped up and the pain shot up his leg. Sam grimaced before clenching his eyelids closed just waiting for the pain to pass. The muscle bunched and coiled inside his leg and there was nothing he could do but endure. "You got a name asshat?"

The angel stepped forward and grabbed Sam's chin again tilting it toward him, his thick fingers pressing hard enough to leave a hand shaped bruise on Sam's jawline. Pain shot through his head when the angel squeezed harder and Sam groaned. The pressure inside his skull felt like his head was about to crack open. Sam felt his mouth being forced open, a metal piece was shoved in and a leather strap was buckled at the base of his neck. He felt both humiliated and terrified at what this new contraption meant for his continued survival. Was he about to learn first hand why demons were scared of angels?

The angel remained silent, he reached into his pocket and removed a vile that Sam couldn't see very well. His eyes were starting to water and he wanted to swallow so badly that it was nearly choking him. Sam's eyes widened when he got a clear look at the vile and realized that it looked an awful lot like blood.

"Uriel." He'd answered Sam's first question, but now the young hunter had a million more. Questions that he couldn't ask because of the thing on his face; he wanted to know whose blood was in that vile?

Almost like he knew the unasked question, "Blood." Uriel smiled and tilted Sam's head back and poured the contents down Sam's open throat. "Demon blood to be more exact."

Sam started to gag when some of the blood went down his windpipe. He'd never considered just how hard it was to cough when one's mouth was wedged open. The angel didn't offer to help or take the contraption off him, he simply watched as Sam struggled.

"You have a role to play. And this?" He held up the empty vile. "It's a necessary evil." Sam bucked against the restraints, but he was no match for the inhuman strength of a divine being. "This is just the start." Uriel waited until the human's eyes started to roll back in his head and his body sagged with the need for fresh air before removing the device.

Sam gasped when the angel stepped back, a smile playing across his face and a satisfied look in his dark eyes. He patted Sam's cheek like a child. "Good boy. I'll be back later with your next dose. Until then why don't you just hang around?" The angel laughed at his own joke, but the action didn't reach his cold and calculating eyes.

The metallic taste of blood made Sam nauseous. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't eject the blood from his body. He could also feel something else happening, a slight buzzing sound that redirected his mind from his current shitty condition. It felt like something was pulling at the edges of his conscious mind; like scratching at a door that he couldn't quite hear. He felt like something was trying to pull that door open and let something out.

Sam didn't understand what the hell was happening, but the fact that that bastard had given him demon blood? That couldn't be a good thing. Sam had never realized just how tainted he must be that the angels were willing to destroy his humanity just for kicks. He pooled the saliva in his mouth and spit what little remained of the blood onto the floor at his feet.

Was this what had happened to Dean? Had he been tied down and forced to submit to the whims of these celestial douchebags? Whatever else Dean might be, he was still Sam's big brother.

A rush of blood to his head sent Sam's body into convulsions when the pain hit. But with that pain his mind started to stretch and he could feel the walls pressing in on him as he tried to remain conscious. A slow trickle of blood ran from both his ears, dropping onto his dark cotton t-shirt. The atmosphere surrounding him was too loud, too bright, too everything. The last thought that ran through his head was a desperate plea to his big brother. "Dean, help me." And with that he slumped forward into the waiting darkness.

SPN SPN SPN

Dean slammed on the brakes and sent the car skidding to the shoulder. He tore open his door and barely made it out of the Impala before he was spewing blood onto the gravel. Pain tore into his skull forcing him to slam the palms of his hands against his ears. It was like hearing everything at once. All the audible noise that existed in the world hit him at the same time.

"Dean?" Castiel was beside him, not quite touching but ready to offer a hand if needed.

He ignored the angel and waited for the world to stop splitting his head wide open. Somewhere on the edges of his mind he heard, "Dean, help me."

It was Sammy. There was no question who had called him, just like there was no question that he would answer that call for help. Even if it meant burning through what was left of his mangled soul. The pain subsided and Dean slid to his ass, he was focusing on pulling in one breath after another.

"Sammy." He whispered hoarsely.

The angel didn't ask, he simply reached out and touched the top of Dean's head. Instantly he saw what the reaper had done. He felt the pain and confusion that was driving Dean to rail against the lack of emotion he should be feeling. Those alternate memories had restored the demon-angel's empathy. Suddenly everything he'd seen in the last 48 hours took a clarity that Castiel would never have achieved without seeing it inside Dean's mind. He also felt the confusion the older Winchester felt concerning their relationship. In the alternate memories he and Dean had been friends for a very long time. They'd watched each other die and they'd fought to undo the Winchester curse, or fate whatever one wanted to call it.

He pulled his hand back and stared down at the trembling man at his feet. Castiel had been pretty certain he was on the right side of destiny when he'd save Dean, but after seeing the lives they would have lived? The angel was now certain that he'd picked the winning side. These two brothers were more important than any of the billions of souls that had come before, because Sam and Dean Winchester would change the world.

Dean looked up at him and the angel frowned at the bloodshot eyes. It looked as though every blood vessel in his eyes had burst simultaneously. He didn't say anything as they stared at one another. There was a plea for help lodge so deeply in Dean's expression that Castiel couldn't have ignored even if he'd wanted to. He extended his hand. Dean stared at it like a snake for so long that the angel wondered if he would take what was the angel was offering. After what felt like a lifetime Dean nodded once and clasped his good hand in the angel's strong grip.

He gently pulled Dean to his feet and then walked back around to the passenger side of the car.

Dean looked over the roof at the angel and felt the sure knowledge that for some reason Castiel was with him on this mission. The intense blue eyes of the angel watched him for a moment before he settled into the car. The older Winchester inhaled ignoring the pain of his injuries and crawled into the driver seat.

"We have work to do." Dean's voice was strained, but determined.

TBC…

Please leave a review if you're so inclined. It would be greatly appreciated.

Author's Note: So it appears that the reaper had a purpose in cramming all those memories into Dean's skull. But they aren't out of the woods yet.