Thanks to Jenjoremy for beta'ing. Also to Gredlina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for all their help and support.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"I need a favor — big one."

"Okay."

"Find my mother."

Berieah gripped the demon around the throat and shoved him against the wall. "I will kill you," she said in a dangerous tone, "but I can make it short and merciful or I can make it last a long time. Which would you prefer?"

The demon flinched. "Merciful, definitely merciful." The vessel looked like he was around Kevin's age, with dark hair and glasses that Kevin was sure were for fashion rather than need. He wondered who this kid had been before he'd been taken over by the demon.

"Then tell us what we are looking for," Berieah said. "Crowley said there was something here for the prophet."

The demon looked Kevin up and down as if appraising him and then he nodded. "Down corridor Q. Unit in the middle."

Kevin scanned the map on the wall quickly and found the corridor he was looking for. He set off running, leaving the Berieah behind to deal with the demon. He didn't know what he was going to find, whether it would be her, but he had a glimmer of hope for the first time.

He came to corridor Q and found the three units. The rolling door of the first was open, and Kevin chanced a glance inside. It was dimly lit and obviously empty. Someone had been there though. There was a cuff and chain bolted to the concrete floor. Trying not to imagine what he was going to see in the middle unit, Kevin tested the padlock but it was tightly sealed. Sam had been teaching him to pick locks in their downtime before everything went to hell, but the tools he needed were in the bunker in his room.

"Berieah!" he shouted.

As his voice echoed down the corridor, he thought he heard a sound coming from inside the unit. He pressed his hand against the steel door and spoke. "Hello?"

"Kevin?"

"Mom?" Kevin closed his eyes and tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Oh, Kevin," she said, and Kevin could tell she was crying.

"I'm getting you out, Mom," he called. "Just hang on a little longer. Berieah!"

"I am here." Berieah ran along the corridor towards him, her eyes wide and alert. "What's wrong?"

"Get this open!" Kevin ordered harshly.

She bent and tugged on the padlock. It broke apart as if made of wet tissue paper. Kevin gripped the handle of the door and yanked upwards, opening it.

Berieah's sword slid into her hand, but Kevin barely paid her a moment's attention. All his focus was on his mother. She was sitting on the dirty floor with a thick cuff around her ankle, tethering her in place. She was grimy and exhausted looking but her eyes blazed with happiness and her smile was wide.

"Kevin. Son."

"Mom." Kevin dropped down beside her and put his arms around her. He could tell she had lost weight but she had lost none of her strength as she gripped him back. She shook and Kevin felt the dampness of her tears on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Mom," he said. "We're getting you out of here."

She released him and held his cheeks in her hands. She leaned back to get a good look at him, and though tears were still streaming from her eyes, she was smiling widely. "You're alive!"

Kevin nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Everything's going to be just fine."

Berieah knelt beside them and tore the cuff apart, freeing his mother. She flinched back and looked at the angel with distrust, which Kevin hurried to ease. "It's okay. This is Berieah. She's an angel. She's going to help us."

His mother looked at Kevin with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "An angel? You're running with angels again?"

Kevin laughed slightly. She sounded like she was scolding him for staying out past curfew. "It's a long story, but yeah, I'm running with angels again."

She pursed her lips. "Let's hope she last longer than the last ones did. Now, get me out of here."

Kevin stood and helped her to her feet. She wavered for a moment, and then her innate resilience came to the fore and she straightened. Gripping Kevin's hand tight, she led him out of the unit and onto the corridor.

"So, Sam and Dean," she said. "They still around?"

"Yeah," Kevin said. "We're going to them now."

"Good," she replied stiffly. "I want a word with those two."

Kevin laughed. Sam and Dean were in for the lecture of a lifetime and they didn't even know it. He didn't care though. He would listen as she reamed into them and he would love every minute of it because it was her. She was alive and fighting still. Nothing had ever felt better to him than her hand in his.

Dean was impatient. He wanted Sam awake. He wanted Sam talking. He wanted Sam doing anything but lying there looking like he was one stuttered breath from death.

Castiel was standing on the opposite side of the bed, and it felt to Dean that this was a death vigil. He hated the thought, wanted to scrub it out of his head, but it persisted.

Eventually, Castiel cleared his throat and said, "I think he can handle a little more now."

Dean's head snapped up. "You're waking him?"

"I will heal him a little more," Castiel corrected. "Whether he wakes or not is completely down to him."

"He'll wake up," Dean said confidently. He wasn't sure whether Castiel was talking about him waking now or at all, but Dean knew his brother. He would wake up and he would be okay. It was the only outcome he was prepared for because anything less made him want to vomit.

Castiel leaned over Sam and pressed his fingers gently to Sam's temple. Dean watched expectantly, looking for some sign of life from his brother, but there was nothing. His eyes didn't open. His breaths didn't change. He was the same as he had been for hours now.

"That is all I can manage for now," Castiel said, stepping back from the bed.

"Because of your grace?" Dean asked, unable to keep the hint of bitterness from his tone.

"No," Castiel replied, sounding offended. "Because there is only so much Sam's body can handle. There is a reason Gadreel healed him from within. Sam has undergone so much trial. His body is… fragile. Trying to heal too much at once would cause him to fail."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Sorry, Cas. I'm just kinda…"

"You are worried. I am, too. I have faith in Sam through. I have seen him do magnificent things before. He will do it again." He smiled at the unconscious man fondly and then looked at Dean. "I will leave you both for a while."

Dean felt that he should have told him to stay, to wait, but he wanted to be alone with Sam, so he stayed silent as Castiel strode from the room.

When he was alone, he studied Sam. It could have been his imagination, but he thought that perhaps there was more color in his cheeks now than there had been before;although at first glance they still looked grey, a closer inspection revealed a slight tinge of pink.

"Looking good, Sammy," he said lightly. "You're doing just fine."

He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands and just watched for a long time. His vision blurred and his mind began to cloud when something changed. Sam's eyes were rolling benea th their lids. He sat upright. "Hey, Sammy? Can you hear me?"

Sam's eyes cracked open and Dean grinned.

"Hey, about time you woke your lazy ass up."

Sam blinked drowsily and then his eyes came to rest on Dean. His forehead furrowed. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me. You're okay."

Sam's gaze roved the room. "Bunker?" he asked weakly.

"That's right. We got you back, and you're going to be just fine."

Sam nodded slightly even as his eyes drifted closed again.

"Hey, now," Dean said firmly. "Wake up!" He knew Sam probably needed at least another week in bed but he wanted him awake for at least a little bit longer.

Sam's eyes rose to half mast and he fixed his gaze on Dean. "Not done. You know?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Lied. Not done. No choice." Sam's voice was barely audible; it was clear he was struggling to be heard.

Dean felt a surge of relief as he understood what Sam was saying. He wasn't done. When he'd been beating Dean into the dirt, he'd had no choice. Castiel was right. He'd been working his own mission.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about that now, Sammy. When you're feeling better, we'll talk."

Sam's eyes drifted closed again, and his breathing eased into deep breaths of sleep. Dean bowed his head and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't much, just a few broken words, but it was Sam talking, and that was enough for him for now.

As dawn broke, Dean heard excited voices. He chanced a glance at Sam to see if they'd woken him, but he was dead to the world. He was looking better though. His hollowed cheeks were closer to pink now than grey and his breaths came slow and steady. Dean touched two fingers to Sam's throat and felt the thrum of a strong pulse.

He knew he should go see who was there and what was happening, but he didn't want to leave Sam alone in case he woke again.

He sat back in his chair and tried to make out what the voices were saying without success. Footsteps clacked along the hall and a moment later Berieah appeared.

"Hey," Dean said. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. Castiel asked me to attend to Sam for a moment so you can join him."

Dean frowned. "What's going on out there?"

She smiled. "I promised I would let you see for yourself. Kevin was adamant."

Dean stood reluctantly. "If he wakes up again, tell him I'm close."

"I will. Castiel has asked that I attend to his healing as well now."

"Can't Cas do it?"

"He can, suffused with grace as he is at present. However, every time he heals, he sends some of that grace into Sam. It is better for us all that our leader remains as strong as he can be for the coming battle."

That made sense, but Dean didn't like it. It sounded stupid even to himself, but if Sam had to be stuffed full of grace by someone, he wanted it to be Castiel. The battle was what mattered in the grand scheme though, especially to Sam, so he would let Berieah do her thing and he would keep quiet. As long as Sam was fixed up, it would all be okay.

He left the room and strolled down the hall to the library. He could hear Kevin's voice chattering and a smooth female voice replying. He had almost forgotten Crowley's treat for Kevin, but even if he had given it thought, he wouldn't have believed it could be her.

He came into the library and grinned as he caught sight of Linda Tran sitting at the polished table. Kevin looked up and beamed at him. His happiness at his mother's return was blazing in his eyes.

"Mrs. Tran," Dean said. "Good to see you."

She smiled grimly. "Dean. We need to talk."

"Not now, Mom," Kevin said.

She spoke over him. "Kidnapping. Fallen angels. The King of Hell in the dungeon you apparently have now. And my son almost killed more than once. Have you anything to say?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."

"You think sorry makes it better?" she snapped.

"No, I think it doesn't even come close, and one day I'll sit down with you and try to explain everything that happened and how we did our very best to keep Kevin safe, but right now I have an angel in the dungeon that needs interrogating, a sick brother that needs healing, and a war looming. How's about you choose and room and get settled in?" She scowled at him and he raised his hands at his sides. "Look, I know you want answers, but I can't give them yet. My plate's pretty full."

"C'mon. Mom," Kevin said. "Let's go pick out a room for you."

She allowed herself to be led from the room and Dean sighed. He owed her answers, and he would do his best to give them, but he knew there was no way of making her understand what had happened. Even he knew he'd failed Kevin. He'd almost been killed by Crowley more than once and if Gadreel hadn't had a fit of conscience, he would have been ended with Sam's own hands. No matter how you came at it, it had been a year of epic failure on all counts.

He turned to Castiel. "Berieah said you needed me."

"Yes. Gadreel has been demanding attention. We need to decide what we're going to do with him."

"You mean whether we shish kebab him with an angel blade or go all out and turn him into fish sticks? Hey, I'm down with either option."

Castiel frowned. "I understand your anger, and I feel the same, but there is something we need to consider."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"The fact Gadreel came here looking for Sam of his own free will."

"And that means what exactly?"

Castiel looked impatient. "It means there is more to his story than we know. Gadreel and Sam were apparently working against Metatron, too. We need information and as Sam is in no position to answer our questions at present, we need to talk to Gadreel."

Dean scowled. What he wanted more than anything was to end Gadreel, painfully if possible, but Castiel had a point. The thought of talking to the dickwad angel that had killed his brother, though, for whatever reason, wasn't tempting. Beating him sounded much more appealing.

"He could be an asset," Castiel said.

Dean nodded. "Okay, but let's get it over with. I don't want to leave Sam too long."

Dean followed him to the dungeon and stopped on the threshold, his eyebrows raised. Bartholomew was chained in Crowley's place, looking as if he'd been pummeled to within an inch of his life. Dean had thought he'd be dead already.

"What's he doing here?" Dean asked, pointing at the former angel.

"I wasn't sure what you would want to do with him," Castiel said. "I thoughthis final fate should be decided by you and Sam."

Dean nodded, appeased. He wanted Bartholomew killed for what he had done to Sam, but he wouldn't make the decision alone. It was down to Sam, too. He'd been hurt the most, so he should have the final say.

He glowered at Gadreel. "We need to talk."

"Yes," Gadreel said, "we do, and fast. I do not have much time before Metatron will expect me again."

"You say that like we're going to just let you skip off and see him again."

"You will," Gadreel said confidently.

"And why's that?" Dean asked.

"I am the best chance you have of killing Metatron. I am in his confidence. You need me."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "What's to stop us from just torturing his location out of you and going after him ourselves?"

"The fact that you will fail if you try," Gadreel replied smugly. "There are things you do not know about him. Things you need to know if you are to succeed."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Like the fact he imbibed Castiel's grace."

Castiel visibly started. "He did?"

"You sound so shocked," Gadreel said. "Strange. I can see that you have done the same with another's. Bartholomew's I presume. Why would you think it would be beyond Metatron to do the same?"

"Okay," Dean said in an even tone. "Metatron's got an angelic power-up, too. We can handle that."

Gadreel laughed. "You think so? Do you also have an army? Because he does."

Dean opened his mouth to reply that they did but Castiel caught his eyes and shook his head infinitesimally.

"I concede that you can be of assistance," Castiel said. "You possess information that could help us, but I do not see why we cannot extract that and keep you hostage here."

"You won't," Gadreel said confidently.

"And why's that?" Dean asked.

Gadreel had his eyes fixed on something behind them."Because he won't let you."

Dean turned and sighed. "Sam."

Sam felt awareness returning to him slowly. He could hear someone close by, walking around, and there was the sense of eyes on him.

"Are you awake?" a voice asked.

It wasn't Dean as he'd assumed. It was a woman. Sam forced his eyes open and looked up into a face with rich mocha skin and deep brown eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked in a cracked voice.

"My name is Berieah."

That was an angel name if Sam had ever heard one. He sighed and closed his eyes. He had been so sure that he was back in the bunker. He'd had the best dream that Dean had been there, that he'd been saved. He'd been able to tell Dean that he hadn't meant it. The disappointment was like a lead weight on his chest.

"I am here to help you," Berieah said.

Sam huffed a laugh. "Sure you are. Where's Mikhail?"

"Dead. The King of Hell killed him. It was quite violent."

Sam opened his eyes again and looked around the room. He took in the familiar wooden furniture and the record player on the dresser. It was Dean's room. He was in Dean's bedroom which meat he was back. It didn't explain what this angel was doing there though.

"Who…? What…?" Sam couldn't commandeer his own thoughts.

"I am one of Castiel's lieutenants," she said.

Sam laughed slightly. "Cas has lieutenants again. Awesome. That'll end well."

"I am more than aware of his history," she said. "He is proving himself able this time though."

Sam pushed himself upright with shaking limbs and looked around. "Where's my brother?"

"I believe Dean and Castiel are interrogating the betrayer at present."

"Gadreel's here?"

"Yes. But you do not need to worry. He is restrained in the dungeon."

Where Dean was probably 'interrogating' the hell out of him, Sam thought.

"That's not good," he groaned, easing himself around to the edge of the bed. "I need to stop him."

"You shouldn't move," Berieah said sternly. "You are very unwell."

That wasn't news to Sam. He could feel just how unwell he was in his shaking limbs and panting breaths. He felt like he had the worst case of the flu and had taken a beating all rolled into one shaky, achy package.

"Help me out," he said, struggling to get to his feet.

"I shouldn't," she said reluctantly.

"Look, I'm going to Dean even if I have to crawl all the way." And that felt like a very real possibility with the way his head was swimming. "You can watch or you can help. What's it going to be?"

In response, she lifted him to his feet and then draped his arm over her shoulder. "I see Dean is not the only stubborn Winchester."

"Lady, you have no idea," Sam replied.

He waited a moment to be sure his legs were going to hold him and then started forward. Leaning heavily on Berieah, they got out to the hall and he braced his free hand on the wall.

"I could carry you," she offered.

"Thanks, but no," Sam said. "Dean's already going to give me hell. We don't need to add me being carried around like a damsel in distress to his ammunition."

"As you wish."

They made slow progress along the hall toward the dungeon. As they walked through the file storage room, Sam listened to the conversation happening inside.

"I concede that you can be of assistance," Castiel said. "You possess information that could help us, but I do not see why we cannot extract that and keep you hostage here."

Gadreel caught Sam's eye. "You won't."

"And why's that?" Dean asked, menace dripping from his tone.

Gadreel smiled at Sam. "Because he won't let you."

Dean turned and sighed. "Sam."

"Hey," Sam said, swaying on Berieah's shoulder like a drunk.

"Whoa," Dean said, rushing to his side and looping his other arm around his shoulders. "You okay?"

Sam nodded and leaned heavily on his brother. "Just fine."

He looked around the room. Gadreel was chained to the wall, but he looked smug as he watched Sam. Bartholomew, bloodied and beaten, was in the chair that had been Crowley's and the King of Hell was nowhere in sight.

"Cas, help us out here," Dean said.

Castiel nodded and moved quickly to stand beside Bartholomew. He slipped the collar from around his neck and pushed him forward roughly. He tumbled from the chair to fall boneless to the concrete floor. Castiel shoved him into a corner and Dean and Berieah half led half carried Sam to the chair. Sam let himself sink down gratefully, not caring that his resting place was equipped with chains, just grateful that he was sitting.

Dean rested a hand on his shoulder and turned his attention to Berieah. "What the hell?" he snapped. "You were supposed to be watching him."

"I was," she said. "He wanted to come here."

"And you let him?"

Gadreel chuckled softly. "What were you thinking, letting Sam make his own choice like that?"

"Gadreel," Sam said tiredly. "Don't be a dick. Dean, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you really look it," Dean said. "Jeez, Sam, can't you just do the sensible thing for once in your life?"

Sam gritted his teeth. He would have liked to call Dean on his shit, but it wasn't the time or place. Besides, Dean owed him more than a little attitude after everything he'd done.

"So," he said, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at Gadreel. "What did I miss?"

Gadreel smiled. "I was successful in ingratiating myself with Metatron again. I have been appointed his second-in-command. I have spent the time since our parting recruiting for his cause."

Sam nodded. "You're using that sigil thing?"

"Yes. It is an effective way of drawing angels in."

"How long have you got before he's going to notice you're not recruiting still?" Sam asked.

"A few days perhaps. The ranks are swelling fast, but I—"

Dean spoke over him. "What the hell, Sam?"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"You're talking like… He's acting like… What the hell?"

"We are talking like coconspirators," Gadreel said. "He's acting like he trusts me. We are and he does."

Dean's grip on Sam's shoulder tightened to the point of pain. "Look, you feathered dick, I'm a couple words away from dousing you in holy oil and busting out the marshmallows, so how about you stow the smug bastard crap for a minute?"

"You won't kill me," Gadreel said. "Sam won't let you."

Dean shook his head. "You don't know my brother."

"Oh, I do," Gadreel said. "I know him better than—"

"Enough!" Sam snapped. "Cut it out, you two. We've got bigger things to about it." He massaged his aching temples. "How many has Metatron got in his army now?"

"Around thirty," Gadreel said, "with more coming in every day. There are two others out recruiting as well as me."

Sam blew out a breath and turned to Castiel. "How many have you got, Cas?"

Castiel hesitated. "I have… some."

Sam shook his head, irritated. "I know that already. Berieah said she's your lieutenant, and you don't have that without an army. So how many have you got?"

"Around a dozen," Castiel admitted while Dean cursed.

Sam weighed that up. The odds were stacked in Metatron's favor at the moment. Castiel would need to go on a recruiting drive if they were to make it out in an open fight. Unless that could get Metatron alone… If they could take him out, the angels would be leaderless, and they weren't the best when it came to thinking for themselves.

"Where's Metatron?" he asked Gadreel.

"Heaven," Gadreel said simply. "I left him a few days ago."

"You've been home?" Castiel asked, eyes wide and intense.

Gadreel smiled and looked at Sam. "I have news for you. I saw—"

"I'm sure that's awesome and all," Dean interrupted. "But how about we get back to what matters. How did you get into Heaven if Metatron closed it up tight?"

"There is a spell. It creates a portal between Earth and Heaven. It is currently in use in Colorado, but I believe it can be moved."

"Awesome," Dean said. "Someone get him a pen and paper. Jot down this spell and we'll be sure to let you know how it goes."

"No," Gadreel said calmly. "I will not facilitate Castiel's death. He cannot fight Metatron alone."

"He won't be alone," Dean said harshly. "We'll be with him."

"The portal is only for angels," Gadreel said. "You cannot hope to assist him, even if you were able to travel to Heaven. You will have to trust me if you are going to succeed."

"Trust you!" Dean laughed harshly. "After what you did to Sam!"

"I did only what Sam wanted. I saved his life."

"Yeah, then you hijacked him and went on the world weirdest road trip."

Given that their entire lives had been one long weird-ass road trip, that was a powerful statement from Dean.

"Sam trusts me, don't you, Sam?"

Sam groaned as a wave of pain swept through him. "I trust that Dean will kick your ass if you don't tone it down a little. Just…give it a rest."Gadreel scowled at him, but Sam didn't much care. He was feeling worse than ever and he had a sneaking suspicion that this conversation was about to end abruptly for him. "What's your plan, Gadreel?"

Gadreel sighed. "I don't have one yet. Metatron's forces outnumber Castiel's, so we cannot risk open warfare. I need to be released so I can return to Metatron and remain in his good graces."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Dean, let him free."

"Are you kidding me? After everything he did! He killed you, Sam!"

"Because I told him to," Sam said weakly. "I was the one that made him do it for the mission. I'm asking you to let him go for the same reason. He's useless to us chained up here, but if we let him go, he might be able to do something useful for us." He drew a deep breath. "Trust me if you can't trust him." Sam's vision swam and he felt himself slipping forward. He felt hands on his shoulders, holding him up and someone shouting, but before he could speak, to reassure Dean, he was unconscious.

So… Momma Tran is back, Sam's just about up and on his feet, and Gadreel is being a bit of a dick. Originally, he was an even bigger dick to Dean, but it was too OOC for the angel I've been portraying so far, so I toned it down. Shame. It was apparently fun to read before. Hope it was still interesting for you.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx