(3/23/2019) Hello? Is there anybody out there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?

Okay, enough Pink Floyd. Sorry it's been so long! Work work work.

Season 15 is going to be the last and I'm totally bummed! I just hope the Winchesters go out with a bang.

Thank you samoht, Sailor Dragonball 87, Dark-Supernatural-Angel, ngregory763, notharmonious, Noxvae, and vampire harry the 2 for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get tissues so you can cry with me about the road finally ending!


There were parts of the Forbidden Forest that were undeniably beautiful. Nature had been left to develop virtually unhindered. Fauna stretched far into the darkness, with the chitters of small animals and the occasional hoot interrupting the chorus of rustling caused by the wind. Sam even swore he saw a unicorn disappearing into the trees. Snow rested on fallen logs and up on branches, gleaming

in the moonlight. It was picturesque, serene, and inviting, but only for the ignorant and unwary.

The standard wildlife was dangerous enough (wolves, wild boar, badgers, and lynx), but the addition of magical wildlife made the place lethal for those without protection. Hippogriffs, Thestrals, Acromantula, the occasional werewolf, an autonomous (and apparently feral) Ford Anglia; and those were just the ones Hagrid knew off the top of his head.

Most of the inhabitants either respected or feared the half-giant, and the group went through mostly unmolested. They were, however, forced to deal with one sentient group of creatures halfway through their trek.

"Does anyone else hear horses?" Dean asked.

His query was answered almost immediately; streaming from between the trunks of the surrounding trees came half a dozen centaurs, all of whom carried bows already nocked. Powerfully built, with heavily muscled humanoid upper halves and a prime stallion's body, they exuded a presence that was both intimidating and wondrous. "Whoa," Sam gasped.

"So," said the darkly colored one in front, his eyes on Hagrid, "first you bring that… creature into our forest and now you bring these!"

"'These'?" an insulted Dean repeated.

The centaur tossed his head at Castiel. "Do not deny the inhuman nature of this one, or the taint of Hell that lingers on you. Not to mention how the unholy is threaded through the veins of that one," he added with a dark look at Sam.

It had been years since anyone had disparaged the younger Winchester about the demonic blood flowing through his veins. The reminder of dark days effectively stunned Sam to silence. Not so, however, his protective older brother. Dean took a step forward and was halted by Castiel's restraining grip. "You know that expression 'hung like a horse'?" Dean quipped. "See, from where I'm standing it don't look like there's a whole lot of truth to it."

"You dare —"

"The Michael Sword," dolorously interrupted another centaur, this one with high cheekbones and long, black hair. "An angel. And Lucifer's true vessel. It is strange company you keep, Hagrid."

"We don't mean to trespass," Sam said carefully. "We just want to—"

"We know what you intend. What we cannot foresee is your chance to succeed."

The first centaur pawed the ground restlessly. "Why should we allow this slaughter to occur?"

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "It's fer a good cause."

"A cause that is supposedly just."

"Bane," Hagrid sighed, "ye owe me."

The centaur's lip curled upwards, unhappy at the reminder of whatever debt they'd incurred. He wheeled around, signaling the others to loosen their bowstrings, and galloped off. "What do they owe you?" Sam asked.

The half-giant gave a monstrous shrug. "It's b'n so long neither of us remember anymore. Shall we?"

"Wait," Castiel demanded, his hand up.


"Should I lead them astray?"

Naomi drummed her fingers on her desk. "No. Not yet. It wouldn't do us much good to rouse their suspicions."


"This way." Castiel tore off into the trees, east of where the centaurs had disappeared and straight into blackened thicket.

Hagrid began to object, "But—" and was stymied by the Winchesters' immediate decision to follow their celestial companion. He tromped after them, grumbling under his breath. If the fools ran into Aragog and his extended family…

They burst out into a moonlit copse. The body of a stag was steaming in the middle, its guts strewn haphazardly over the detritus. Hagrid walked to the corpse and knelt down, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. "This wasn't a kill fer food. Nothin's b'n eaten."

Castiel was peering into the trees. "Hellhounds."

"Great," Dean groused.

The two humans pulled out their ridiculously decorated glasses and began scanning around. Hagrid didn't think their angelic friend was correct in his assumptions; the last he'd seen of the Hellhound pack they were a fair distance to the east. Well, it'd be something to hold over these "monster"-killers if he was proven right.

Unfortunately, he wasn't.

A savage, unearthly howl pierced through the night. Hagrid, Dean, and Castiel all whipped their heads towards the sound. Left out of the loop, Sam quietly wondered, "How close?"

As Hagrid was wondering how Dean, a human, could hear the invisible creatures, Castiel was left to answer, "Within one hundred feet. Thirty point forty-eight meters," he added for the sake of the British half-giant.

"I knew tha'," Hagrid muttered.

"Fifty feet."

A unicorn whinnied in fright. Snarls, barks, and snaps drowned it out. Hagrid's instinct to hurdle towards the hapless creature's plight was stifled when the angel said, "It got away. Twenty five."

Hagrid clenched his fists. From his robes Sam pulled out a rune-carved knife while his brother held a silver stiletto. Castiel flicked his wrist and a similar blade fell from his sleeve.


"Be certain it is one of the Winchesters who takes down the Hellhound," Naomi instructed.

"Why?"

"It is not your place to question, Castiel. Do as you are ordered."


Through their scorched spectacles the Winchester brothers watched the Hellhounds circle the trees. Their eyewear didn't make for a clear visual of the creatures, but what could be seen was horrifying enough. Bodies bigger than mastiffs, lean and sinewy, with the flames and vapors of Hell rising from their bodies. Canines dripped past too-wide jawlines as their lips peeled back in furious anticipation. Everything about them was dark, blacks and blues barely showing through the gloom, which made the glowing redness of their eyes even more prominent.

The four intruders to the Forbidden Forest stood at each others' backs. There were at least half a dozen in the trees, far more than either Winchester had ever faced. "What the fuck, Hagrid?" Dean hissed.

"I dunno!" Hagrid whispered back, the panic in his voice evident. "Never heard more'n two at a time!"

"It's my fault," Castiel said calmly. "Most likely they don't like an angel in their territory. Either that or someone's anticipated our presence."

Sam and Dean exchanged apprehensive glances. The one demon they knew for certain that had a close relationship with Hellhounds was the one demon they wanted nowhere near their current location. "As bad as it sounds," Dean commented, "I hope it's your fault."

"Me too."

"I think we should make a run for it," Sam whispered.

Hagrid nodded. "I'm with th' Professor."

"There," Castiel instructed. "South. The most open space." He waited a few seconds to ensure the hounds weren't changing positions before shouting, "Go!"

As one, the group rushed towards the only unoccupied direction. They crashed through the brush, heedless of the the possibility of encountering any of the other denizens of the Forbidden Forest. Obstacles, however, could not be ignored and were in abundance. After nearly tripping over a root and then getting smacked in the face by a low hanging twig, Dean called, "Hagrid, to the front! Clear the path!"

The half-giant took several enormous strides forward and took the lead. His bulk was easy to spot and smashed through any low hanging hindrances. Moreover, Dean was counting on the groundskeeper's knowledge of the area to keep them from wandering off track.

The Hellhounds' hearty anticipatory barks followed. With their scent firmly in the dogs' noses, Castiel wasn't going to count on disinterest to curb the chase. This pack might be wild, perhaps even so far as to be unconnected to Hell, but there was no denying the nature of the creatures. He slowed, allowing both Winchesters to run ahead, and took up the rear guard. As he'd hoped, the others were too occupied with their flight through questionable footing to object.


"What do you think you are doing?" Naomi demanded.

"What do you mean?" Castiel responded, honestly perplexed.


Unfortunately, the angel overestimated his own earthbound speed. Hampered by his vessel, Castiel was significantly slower than he would have been in his true form. One moment the Hellhounds were snapping at his heels, the next found him facedown into the dirt, a dog on his back.

Castiel rolled, tossing the creature. He pushed himself backwards, his back ending up against rough bark. The Hellhounds arrayed themselves around him, eager to taste celestial flesh. "Come on," he snarled.

Through the barks and growls, the angel heard the Winchesters and their large coworker calling his name. A particularly large hound stepped forward. If he could hold their attention long enough…

The bitch leapt at him.

Instinctively, Castiel's hand shot out and grasped for her neck, barely keeping the snapping, slavering jaws at bay. Her underlings barked encouragement, but thankfully stood back, as she repeatedly lunged forward towards the angel's neck. Stinking, sulfuric slobber fell onto his coat and skin as those hell-bred teeth inched ever closer to his throat. He knew that it was vital the Winchesters kill this beast, but if he waited any longer he was dead.

The angel blade sank easily into the hellhound's flesh, piercing her carotid and spraying Castiel with demonic ichor. Though weakened, the bitch was by no means defeated, and she clamped down on his neck. Before she could rip his throat out, the seraph ripped his blade under her chin, cutting veins and sinew so deep she was nearly decapitated. The body collapsed upon his chest, leaving the seraph liberally coated in demonic ichor.


Naomi paced behind her desk. "This is unacceptable."

"My apologies, but—"

"You will just need to go out and find another hellhound. When you do, you will do this correctly."

"I… understand?"


Sam and Dean managed to find their way back through the undergrowth just in time to see the hellhound sink her teeth into their friend. Horrified, the Dean rushed forward, ignoring the surrounding ring of deadly creatures, only to be yanked back by his more cautious brother. He turned on his heel, ready to deliver a scathing objection when the wet rip of flesh being cut echoed into the clearing.

The other hounds backed away from the body of their pack leader and her killer. Castiel stood, black blood coating his front, his eyes the brilliant, piercing white and blue that denoted the ancient celestial being clothed in Jimmy Novak's form. It reminded the Winchesters that, despite all his foibles, Castiel was a warrior, and was far fiercer than they gave him credit for. Realizing how badly they'd underestimated their prey, the remaining hounds slunk back into the shadows.

"Cass?" Dean called worriedly as he and his brother stepped into the clearing. "You good?"

The light dimmed from the angel's eyes. He leaned on one hand, bracing himself on the nearest tree, while placing the other over the wound on his neck. In a croaking voice, he requested, "Give… sec. Be okay."

"Hagrid went to go figure out our way back," Sam explained. "But I don't think we're going to be able to do this again."

"Six freaking Hellhounds at the same time?" Dean scoffed. "No thanks. This mean Cass has to do it?"

"Is that even possible? I mean, he's not human."

"Nothing to lose by trying." From his pants pocket Dean withdrew a folded piece of paper. He held it out to Castiel. "Here."

The angel reached forward.


"Do not recite those words!" Naomi shrieked.

"Why?" Castiel's hand remained extended even in Heaven. "Why shouldn't I? Why do you not want me to be a part of this ritual?"

The other angel paced behind her desk, ignoring Castiel's question. "This has gone too far," Naomi mused. "You have the demon. The Winchesters will undoubtedly be a nuisance if we need to interrogate her." Naomi looked up. "Kill them. And the half-giant if he interferes."

"What?"

"I said, kill them!"

"I… can't."

"Yes, you can."


A drop of red slipped down the angel's eye. More alarming was the terrible blankness that suddenly overtook his expression. The brothers were, however, given no time to speculate over the change as Castiel grabbed Dean's wrist and threw him across the detritus into a tree. Then he set his eyes on Sam.

"N-No, wait!" the younger brother said desperately as he backed away. Castiel ignored his plea and kicked out, sending Sam flying out into the brush.


"What have you done to me?" Castiel cried, his hands pressing upon his temples in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain.

"Just relax, Castiel. Let your vessel do what you know deep down is the right thing."


On his way back, Hagrid found Sam on the ground groaning, his arms clutched around broken ribs. Assuming that the injury had been done by the dogs, the groundskeeper hefted the nearest fallen tree and prepared to defend his new friends. But when he emerged into the copse he found no invisible hounds, only the angel advancing upon his friend. "Oi!" Hagrid called. "D'ye mind tellin' me wha's going on?"

Castiel didn't answer. He grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and hauled him up one-handed. Any suppositions Hagrid might have had that the angel was helping his friend to his feet vanished when Castiel's fist cracked across Dean's face.

Roaring, Hagrid barreled forward. Castiel let the erstwhile professor drop and met the half-giant's furious gaze. He ducked under the massive piece of wood swung his way, swiftly turned, and planted the flat of his foot into Hagrid's stomach. The astonished groundskeeper found himself going back the way he'd came, only this time he was airborne. He only hoped he wouldn't land on Sam.


Castiel staggered from the movement. His mind rebelled against his body, shrieking against the pain it was being forced to dole out upon an innocent. "What have you done to me, Naomi?" he repeated, anguished.

"What have I done to you?" Naomi yelled, her fury evident. "Do you have any idea what it's like out there? There's blood everywhere, and it's on your hands. After everything you did to us, to Heaven, I fixed you, Castiel. I fixed you!"


"Who the hell is Naomi?" Dean demanded as he picked himself up off the dirt. "Cass?"

The hunter warily placed his hand on the angel's shoulder, hoping to get some sort of answer. Was this what had been plaguing Castiel since his escape from Purgatory? Was this Naomi responsible? Could they—

Dean let out an agonized cry. The bones in his arm snapped audibly as Castiel twisted the man's fingers off of his trench coat. Blade in hand, the angel resumed smacking his fist across Dean's face, mercilessly holding no inch of his inhuman strength back.


"Please!"

"End this, Castiel! The tablet is too important. Destroy these distractions and be done with it!"


Castiel stared blankly down. What was wrong with Dean's face? Why was it bleeding and swollen? Who had done that to his friend?

He was shocked when his own hand swept across his vision and cracked the bone under Dean's eyelid. Even more surprising was the cold feel of celestial wrought steel between his fingers. Was he going to kill Dean? Why would he be doing that?


"Kill him!"

"N-No."


The blade dropped to the forest floor. Castiel saw the parchment his friend had been trying to give him sitting nearby. He picked it up.


"I order you to—"


Sam limped into view, his injury forcing him to lean heavily on Hagrid, just in time to hear the angel utter, "Kah nuh ahm dar."

Castiel staggered. From under his sleeves his veins were suffused by a white glow. His irises took on the bright blue sheen once again as shadows of great wings were cast upon the trees.


An explosion of light burst through Naomi's office. She let out a cry of pain, the brightness searing into the eyes of even her celestial form. Had she been wearing a vessel on Earth, those eyes would have burned from their sockets.

When it faded, she was alone.

"Castiel," Naomi called, desperately. "Castiel!"


After several seconds it was done. Castiel looked up at the Winchesters, a clarity to his thoughts that hadn't been present ever since his return from Purgatory. He reached out, inwardly wincing when Dean started to pull away, and healed his human friend from the beating he himself had inflicted. "I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel said sorrowfully.

"What the hell just happened?" demanded the hunter.

Castiel opened his mouth to explain everything, from how he'd been rescued and Naomi and the chair, and was arrested by a convulsion from his vessel. Puzzled, the angel put his palms on his abdomen, searching for the source. "I—"

"Cass!" Dean cried out as the angel gave a wet, bloody cough and collapsed onto his back.

Hagrid pushed the hunter out of the way and gently gathered up Castiel. "I'll get him back t'the castle. But how're the two of ye going t'—"

"We'll be fine," Sam insisted. "Just go, quick!" At Hagrid's reticence, the younger brother added a desperate, "Please."

The man's tone effectively silenced Hagrid's objections. With a speed belied by his size, the half-giant ran through the trees, the enormity of his strides rapidly eating up the distance to the castle.

The brothers began to follow, but came to a startled halt when a new voice said, "That was a pedigree bitch, you know."

Despite the shards of bone grating together in his ribs, Sam swiftly withdrew the demon-killing knife from his robes. "Crowley."

"Hello, boys." The King of Hell affected a mournful mien. "I'm quite depressed at the mo'. I've lost my favorite chew toy. You're less than a kilometer away from the witch factory, which just unburies a whole host of forgotten childhood disturbances. And now you've killed one of my pets. It makes one wonder what you could possibly be up to."

"None of your business," Dean growled.

Crowley gave the Winchesters a small smile. "Really. Why do I not believe you?"

A wave of the demon's hand had the brothers pinned several feet above the ground against rough bark. Another twist to his wrist and they were choking. "You see," Crowley continued, his hands stuffed into his pockets, "my little birdies told me that the world's cutest Prophet was in Hogsmeade not so long ago, which was, coincidentally, where I had stashed Lucifer's favorite whore. Care to elaborate on all of these coincidences?"

"Eat me," Dean managed to choke out.

"Maybe later, darling. In the meanti—eh?"

They all heard it: the thunder of galloping hooves striking wood and dirt, coming closer and slowing. For one wild moment Dean thought the unicorn from earlier might be coming to the rescue of some virtuous men (despite all his own personality traits that contradicted the traditional meaning of "virtue"). It wasn't much more surprising when the Hogwarts herd of thestrals emerged from the shadows.

Even Crowley was taken aback by the creatures' suddenly appearance. He stepped away from the advancing equines only to trip over the corpse of his beloved dog. The thestrals, drawn by the enticing combination of sulfur and blood, immediately advanced and began to both feast on the remains and lick Crowley dry.

With the loss of the demon's concentration, Sam and Dean dropped to the ground. They wasted no time in fleeing the scene.

The King's outraged cries followed them into the brush. "Think that'll hold him for long?" panted Dean.

"Not long enough," Sam replied.

They skid to a halt when a woman in a grey pantsuit abruptly appeared in front of them. "Get out of the way!" Dean yelled.

"You're going the wrong direction," she said. The stilted speech and stern countenance all spoke "angel".

"Then point us in the right one or move," Sam demanded.

She sighed and took a few steps closer. "I was trying to save him. In hindsight, I went about it the wrong way. Now Castiel is dying."

"Naomi," Dean snarled.

The small smile she bestowed upon the Winchesters was almost sorrowful. "Yes. When you go to St. Mungo's, be certain to tell the healers he is an angel of the Lord. If you do not, their methods will worsen his condition."

"You gotta lot to answer for, bitch."

"More than you could possibly know."

Before either brother could demand further explanations Naomi's hands shot out and touched their foreheads. A moment later they were standing amidst rickety wooden chairs surrounded by pristine white walls. They were obviously somewhere magical; nowhere else would there be a phlegmatic man with an elephant trunk resignedly perusing an outdated magazine.

Dean shoved his way in front of the reception line, dislodging a woman whose every other word was an unassociated profanity. "Excuse shit, sir!" she cried.

"Guy in a trench coat," Dean said hurriedly. "Yea big, blue eyes, probably with a big fucking dude?"

The bored looking receptionist behind the glass pointed down the nearest hallway. "First floor. Emergency."

Sam pulled his brother from the window, jostling the same woman ("Well bitch I fuck never!"). They jammed themselves into the lift and ascended. "I hope they haven't tried anything yet," the younger brother said worriedly.

Dean sighed. "I just hope Cass didn't just volunteer himself for something that'll get him killed."


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Goodbye, Stranger" (SPN 8.17).

Author's Note : It's one of those continuity things with the Hellhounds, like I can't tell the consistent rules by reading the wiki or watching old episodes or whatever. So I just arbitrarily decided that only people who've heard them before can hear them still, thus why Sam can't hear the doggies.