Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. All recognizable characters belong to their rightful owners.

Enjoy.

It had been a crazy two weeks. First, a nerd that wanted to win a fantasy game (and the hand of the 'Queen'.) had decided to go to the dark side and use fairies to eliminate the competition. On the plus side, they had found Charlie, the aforementioned Queen of Moons, found out about LARPing and had had fun. More importantly, Sam had actually smiled and seemed to actually been enjoying himself. Then, things got complicated.

There long lost grandfather from their dad side had literally jumped into their lives; from right out of the closet. He's pretty sure there's a joke around there somewhere but he didn't want to think about it. Yeah, turns out he hadn't abandoned John like they first thought. No, he had traveled through time and, oh, he had brought a demon with him that even the demon-killing knife couldn't kill.

And if that wasn't enough, it turned out he was part of a secret society and Sam and he were 'legacies'. Then they had to find a way to kill the evil bitch and just when Dean was starting to actually like Henry Winchester, he gets killed. Story of their lives. Now all they had was a dead grandfather, a dismembered Knight of Hell, and a key to a secret place. Dean pulls up to a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. Great, they got a place that is most likely old and decrypt. He couldn't wait to go in and start cleaning, not. They got out of the Impala and walked towards the entrance of the bunker which seemed to be built into a bank. The bunker itself appeared to be a two-story building above ground level.

"When's the last time somebody was in this place?"

"Sixty-five, seventy years ago," great, they probably inherited rats chewing through everything. Dean felt like shuddering just thinking about it. God, he hated rats.

Dean opened up the little box that had the key to the bunker. When he opened the door both Sam and he walked down a short flight of stairs. They turn on their flashlights when they were inside the actual bunker. Their flashlights flashed over some fifties type communication equipment.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, with amazement in his voice.

"Look at this. Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard, this was their nerve center."

"Henry did say that they ran dispatch on their own team of hunters," he told Sam absentmindedly while shining his flashlight on a table containing a chess board, an ashtray glass and a dirty coffee cup. "Wow. Halfway through their coffee and a game of chess – looks like whoever was manning the hub left quick."

"On the alarm call that ended the Men of Letters," Dean kept waving his flashlight around when it fell on a switch box on the wall. He opened the switch box and pushed a lever inside it. The lights suddenly turned on making Sam, (who was down the railings) look up in surprise before turning off the flashlight. Dean then pulled the second lever and then more lights come on as well as music.

From downstairs he heard Sam, "Son of a bitch," prompting Dean to go, too. What he saw almost made his jaw drop open. There was a large furnished room with bookshelves, polished wooden floors and large wooden tables. It looked like an extra-large den seen in the movies where old rich coots smoke their cigars; Dean loved it.

"Sammy, I think we found the Bat Cave." He smiled at his younger brother.

OoOoOoOo

Dean had finished the best shower he had ever had. The water pressure was more than working, it was magnificently working; Dean hadn't wanted to get out of. Now he had on a gray robe he had found and went to look for Sam. When he found him he saw books spread all over the table and Sam leaning over, reading two of them at once.

"Morning."

"Morning," Sam answered back while give him a quick look before going back to the books.

"The, uh, water pressure in the Letters' shower room is marvelous." Dean frowned a little; he was hoping for a bigger reaction. Maybe some teasing or poking fun at Dean.

"Yeah. I still can't figure out how we even have water... or electricity.

"Yep, well, I am putting that under the 'ain't broke' column. Listen, little brother, let's not go all geek on this stuff, okay?" Dean was looking around the room when his eyes landed on a scimitar that was on display. He gave a little smile at it.

"'Geek'," Sam asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I mean, don't—don't get me wrong," He walked up the to the scimitar and picked it up, "This stuff is awesome, and it looks like they ran a real tight outfit here, but I'm just saying, you know, don't, uh, don't think that they knew some big secrets that we don't know." Dean couldn't help but strike some poses with the thing. When Sam turned, though, he quickly straightened up so his brother wouldn't see him goofing around; he still had some dignity.

"Dean, they were a secret society," he told Dean, exasperated.

Which means that they made crap up and wore fezzes and sashes and swung around scimitars. They probably didn't even sharp—," he had ran along his finger the on blade and felt a sting meaning he had a cut, "That's very sharp." He put the damn thing back and put his finger in his mouth. Sam had some amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Dean, look, I think we might have something here—something that could help us, help humanity. Henry certainly thought so. I mean, you know damn well we could use a break. What if we finally got one?" They stared at each other. Dean felt some disbelief; when had anything been easy for them? Sooner or later shit always hit the fan and they were even worse off than when they started. But, looking at Sam's happy and hopeful face Dean couldn't say what he was thinking out loud so he looked away from Sam.

They stayed in silence for a few seconds before Sam broke it, "Are you gonna take off the dead-guy robe?"

OoOoOoOo

Almost three weeks later they had, more or less, settled into their Bat Cave, checked up on the Trans, finished a case that had involved rabbis, a golem and Nazi necromancers, and Dean had called Sam a Man of Letters and honestly, Dean couldn't be happier for his little brother. He was smiling more often and not having any nightmares about the past. He was more than content to stare at old dusty books all day long. They each even had their own room. Everything should've been perfect; should've.

Castiel was still missing. Sure he would disappear a few times but he would always call to reassure the brothers he was still alive and breathing. Now, over a month since he left them in the cabin, they had received nothing from the angel. Though neither Sam nor Dean would admit it out loud they were both worried for their friend.

Another thing that was bothering Dean was the fact that he hadn't been able to sneak out from Sam for long period of times without raising any red flags at his younger brother. Dean wanted nothing more than to get rid of those scums off the face of the Earth but it was hard to do so because Sam would disapprove of what Dean was doing so he had held off… for now.

The silence that both brothers were in was broken when Dean's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and quickly answered.

"Cas, where are you, are you OK?" Dean frowned when heard silence on the other line.

"Dean…" there was heavy breathing, "I need…help." Dean listened and then packed up his brother into the Impala and directed the car towards Whitefish, Montana.

Sorry I haven't updated, I haven't forgotten the story it's just that I had surgery and some complications happened but I'm better now. Sorry for it being so short and uninteresting but I promise next chapter Dean is going on a one way ticket to revenge. Hope you liked.