Chapter 4

"Come on, guys, is this necessary?"

From the twin looks of suspicion Dean got, Sam and Bobby did think that this was necessary.

After failing to get any sleep at the truck stop Dean had pushed himself to make it to the old man's place before noon. And for every mile he drove, he had been playing out scenarios about how this reunion was going to go. Sure, he hadn't expected to be hailed as the conquering hero when he showed up on Bobby's doorstep this time. But he hadn't expected to get hauled downstairs to the panic room like a black-bagged inmate at Guantanamo Bay, either.

Bobby and Sam had their arms crossed, waiting. Dean rolled his eyes so hard he saw the backside of his brain. Still, he shed his clothing with business-like efficiency and draped each piece over the back of the chair.

Now in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, his wristwatch, and his jewelry, Dean shivered at both the cool air from the fan overhead and the icy looks from his brother and oldest friend. He felt self-conscious as they looked him over. The salt-encrusted, iron walls of the panic room seemed to be pressing in on him as he clasped his hands in front of his crotch. Strangely, his amulet felt warm on his chest.

"We just gotta make sure, Dean," Sam said apologetically.

"You guys better start throwing ones at me," he retorted weakly. Still, he flopped in the chair and held out his hands so Bobby could handcuff them together. "Just hurry up; I'm freezing my damn tits off."

They circled him, poking and stretching the skin of and around his anti-possession tattoo to make sure it was actually intact. Then they checked around his arms, legs, back, even the soles of his feet for any strange markings.

"Sorry, boy," Bobby said. They did the usual tests (silver knife cut, holy water, salt) on his forearm. He bit his lip, so he didn't react in pain. At least Cas would heal the cuts up right away.

Sam eyed the branded handprint but ultimately said nothing.

Bobby studied Dean with a calm and practiced eye. "Sam filled me in. A trio of demons get offed with white light, and you're acting like someone's there. Then you ditched Sam? If I hadn't done the tests myself, I would have put money on you being possessed."

Dean cleared his throat and said meekly, "...ish?"

They both watched him warily like he was a bomb about to explode.

"His name is Castiel. And once he turns the volume down, he's not so bad," Dean said lightly.

Bobby grunted. "I double-checked. Only one thing has the power needed to pull a soul from Hell, Dean-your Castiel is an Angel."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "That lines up with what he told me."

Sam stepped forward, relief washing over him. "Guys, I think you are missing the point. An angel saved your life, Dean! That's good news, great news even!"

Dean sighed. "Look, Sam, I know you try to keep an open mind, but this is not the Disney ending you think it is."

The kicked puppy expression his brother wielded with deadly precision bored into him. "Why not? Why save you if it wasn't because you deserve to be saved?"

That hit him like a kick to the junk. You didn't deserve to be saved, his inner demons whispered. And the only reason you were was so that you didn't fuck up and break the planet in the future. Good job, loser.

Dean took a breath, but it didn't help his roiling stomach to repeat what Cas had told him.

"According to Castiel...I'm supposed to start the Apocalypse. He pulled us from Hell, so I didn't start the countdown." He glanced at Sam and gnawed on his lip. No point in worrying about Sam's domino if his own didn't fall first. His brother already had to deal with all the Azazel/evil powers bullshit; he didn't need this on his shoulders, either.

Sam and Bobby stared at him in stunned, horrified silence. The only sounds he could hear were their ragged breathing and the fan, creaking and whirling overhead. He had to cough to cover up the sniffle that escaped him.

"You're shitting me," Bobby managed to whisper. "You mean the four Horsemen, rivers of fire, literal Armageddon?"

"I'm supposed to break in Hell, which breaks the First Seal. If sixty-six of these seals break, the door to Lucifer's Cage swings wide open."

"Do you have any proof?" Sam asked.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, well, apparently Castiel was in Hell, too, right? You just said he pulled you both." Sam's face twisted with concern. "Which means he was there for a reason. How are you just going along with what this thing says?"

Dean glared at him. "Being kinda hypocritical, there, Sam. Couldn't we say the same thing about Ruby?"

Sam returned the icy stare and said dismissively, "This is not the same thing."

"Isn't it?" Dean said. "Look, Sam, I never understood your faith situation, okay, but Cas dragged me out of the worst place that's literally ever existed. You cannot understand the shit that I've been through…" he screwed his eyes closed, but they stung with unshed tears. He had to swallow down the literal bile as memories flashed across his mind. He took a breath and focused on the sensations of the room and his warm amulet. "But Cas saved me from it."

"'Cas,' huh?"

"For God's sake, Sam," Dean's voice almost broke. "I'm not gonna wine and dine the guy. It seemed a common courtesy to let him say his piece since he pulled me out of literal Hellfire. How in the world am I explaining faith to you, choir boy?"

Sam straightened up, determined. "If this is true, if any of this is true, why don't we summon him and let him tell us himself?"

Castiel appeared at Dean's back, taking in Bobby and Sam. He reached out and squeezed Dean's naked shoulder. The warm fingers and the firm grip made Dean squirm for just a second until he realized Castiel was trying to comfort him. He gave a slight nod, and Castiel let go so stand next to Sam's brooding shape.

"They have every right to ask questions," Castiel said. "But, though I have nothing to hide, the summoning won't work."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Kinda figured that out."

Sam and Bobby looked at him, then looked at the area he was talking to. "Dean?" Bobby asked. "Ain't nothing there, boy."

"Figured out what, Dean?"

Dean nodded towards where Castiel was, then tapped his temple. "So, even though Cas is in here, some technical issue means he can't talk to me inside my head. He talks to me through a hallucination. So, I'm assuming you can't summon him."

"Why would an angel possess you?" Bobby asked.

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Angels need meat suits, but they can't just break in like a demon. They need permission. He asked in Hell so we could get out."

Sam blinked. "Angels need meat suits?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "Our True Forms can't exist on the Earthly plane otherwise. Even the most powerful of angels, Archangels, need vessels. Though, they have a bad habit of damaging theirs. Condensing such power into a tiny vessel causes irrevocable trauma."

"Tiny?" Dean scoffed. "I only look short because Sam is a freak of nature."

Sam jerked back as if struck. "Screw you, Dean!"

"And my True Form is the size of your Chrysler Building," Castiel replied.

"Hey!" Bobby barked, shutting everyone up. He pointed to Dean. "You're currently arguing with a wall. Mind playing catch-up for those of us who haven't been touched by an invisible angel?"

Breaking off from the conversation, Castiel walked over to the small work table against the wall. He peered down at the yellow legal pad and pen laid on top. After picking up the pen and clicking it curiously a few times, he leaned over and started sketching something with bold, heavy marks, thick and hard enough to rip the paper in a few places.

"Alright," Dean said, clapping his hands together to draw their attention from whatever Castiel was doing. Their attention on him was a welcome distraction from Castiel's ass bent over a desk two steps away. Fuck that coat, he thought bitterly. Then he realized that that coat, and the ass hidden underneath it, literally didn't exist. I'm so fucked.

"Cliff Notes version," Dean pressed on. "I'm possessed by a broken angel who busted me out of Hell so we can stop the Apocalypse. However, he can't drive the car." Dean pointed towards himself, the handcuff's chain jingling. "He's like a bumper sticker-he's just there."

Castiel paused his sketching long enough to mutter darkly: "I used to lead the garrisons. Now I'm 'just there.'' He looked over his shoulder and scowled at Dean. "You're lucky I need to keep you out of Hell, Dean, or I'd throw you back in."

"Nah," Dean said cavalierly, taking a chance and winking at him because Castiel had sounded more annoyed than serious. "You'd miss me too much."

Castiel rolled his eyes before he returned to working on the legal pad. He flipped over the page and started something new.

Dean looked up at Bobby and Sam and held out his handcuffed wrists. "So, I'm not going to eat your livers in the middle of the night with some shitty wine. Can we wrap this up?"

With a nod, Bobby used the tiny key in his pocket to unlock Dean's cuffs, who stood up and rubbed the marks. Castiel grabbed the legal pad and stepped up to Dean. He gently tapped first one wrist with two fingers, then the other: the skin became smooth and unblemished.

Castiel held out the legal pad to Dean, who took it curiously. "As a gesture of good faith, I'm offering this for your protection." He pointed out the first page, covered in a design Dean had never seen. "It's an angel-banishing sigil. Fresh blood to draw it, a handprint of blood to activate it."

He flipped to the next page, a barebones sketch of the house's layout, and pointed to several Xs he'd drawn. "The three of you working together should paint them on this door, this wall, this wall, and this entryway. You'll get the most-" Castiel curled his fingers around the words- "'bang for your buck,' this way."

Dean blinked. Did this badass fallen angel just use air quotes?

Badly?

That's adorable. "Thanks, Cas," Dean said, giving him a tiny smile. Castiel looked at him for a moment, that strange magnetism sparking every time their eyes met. Looking away, he returned to the table and leaned against the edge.

Dean handed the pad over to Sam (ignoring the weird eyebrow his brother was giving him) and relayed Castiel's instructions while he got dressed. With every item of clothing pulled back on, the walls of the room seemed to jump back a foot until he was dressed entirely and could fully breathe again. Finally, he pulled the Bluetooth from his pocket and put it in his ear.

Bobby crossed his arms. "So, how do we stop the End of Days? Because if it were just getting you outta Hell, we'd be doing jello shots off of Meghan Fox right about now, and I'm noticing a distinct lack of both."

Dean and Sam snorted at that.

Dean rubbed his palms against his thighs to wipe away the clamminess. "Currently, keeping me from getting dragged back to Hell is first. Then, we have to figure out a way to get rid of Lilith without killing her."

Sam whirled around on him, eyes bright with anger and suspicion. "What? Since when? She's a fucking monster. We can't let her live!"

Dean held his hands up. "I know, I said the same thing. But Lilith is the last lock on Lucifer's door."

"If Lilith dies, the End begins," Castiel gravely stated.

"Yeah," Dean continued. "Her death pops the lock on Satan's box. Then it's cats and dogs living together in mass hysteria."

Castiel shook his head. "No...I never said anything about cats or dogs. The Horsemen don't take the form of domesticated animals."

Dean rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache from the back and forth.

"Maybe we can incapacitate her," Castiel suggested. "Trapped in a container that can't be opened?"

"Trap her in a container that can't be opened?" Dean said, clarifying for the other's benefit. The humans all shared bewildered looks.

"Is he serious?" Bobby asked.

Dean glanced at Castiel. "Yeah, that's his serious face."

"Oh, is that all we need?" Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing loudly. "Let me just order one 'impossible box' off of eBay, then. Maybe we can overnight it."

For the first time since meeting him, Dean saw Castiel perk up, and it was like looking at a different person. This version of Castiel looked closer to Dmitri, with softer edges and bright eyes since he wasn't scowling and growing. Dean was taken aback by that genuinely hopeful look he directed towards Sam-and how handsome he looked for it. Dean's dick twitched in approval.

I'm going to need so many cold showers from now on, goddammit…

Castiel squinted at him, but he asked hopefully. "You can just order one?"

"Sarcasm alert," Dean said, feeling like a jackass. "Sorry, Cas."

The angel's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. He closed back in on himself, and Dean immediately wanted to bring that other Cas back. "Of course, it wouldn't be that easy."

"We might need an impossible box to trap this demon," Bobby said. "But we also need supplies. Let's get these sigils up, and then you boys go into town."

After a half-hour of drawing the sigils, Bobby and Sam were sporting bandages, but Dean's cut was already healed.

On the road to Sioux Falls, Dean kept sneaking glances at Sam, who was fiddling with the paper grocery list Bobby had tasked him with holding on to. He opened and refolded it until the creases in the paper were soft and pliable. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a machete. Dean hated it, hated the way Sam would glance at him once in a while with a concerned look in his eyes.

"I'd like to state for the record that this sucks, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam lifted his head. "What sucks?"

Dean huffed. "Feeling like your brother is about to go nuclear, and you have no idea what to do about it," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at his brother guiltily. "This...this is what you've been putting up with for the past few years?"

Sam shrugged. "It's the truth, isn't it? I'm a whole new level of freak."

"You had some control over when you whipped out your power boner," Dean muttered. "Cas isn't exactly on a leash I can reign in."

"No, I'm not," Castiel agreed, appearing in the middle of the back seat. He sat forward with his hands clasped together between his knees. Dean's eyes must have lingered on the rearview mirror too long. Sam tensed up and peeked over his shoulder towards the back seat.

"Is he...here now?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Dean said. An old truck with massive tires sped up to pass them on a straight stretch of patched road. The black smoke it belched from its exhaust made Dean think of the possessed, racist monster truck. God, my life is fucking weird.

Sam cut off his thoughts. "If he's a hallucination, how can you even tell what is real around you?" He paused, then asked quietly, "How can you even tell if I'm real?"

"Come on, man, this isn't the Matrix," Dean said. "No way those Fabio locks are computer code," he teased, reaching over to mess with Sam's hair.

Sam slapped Dean's hand away from him-"Knock it off, Dean!" He was holding onto Dean's wrist to stave off his hair-ruining hand when he glanced in the backseat and jumped a mile high. "What the hell?!"

Dean jerked his hand back to steady the car, but he accidentally overcorrected and lurched into the opposite lane. A passing vehicle blared the horn at him as they swerved away. He whipped the car over into a patch of wildflowers on the road's shoulder and parked.

Before he could even ask, Sam was gawking at the back seat. "Someone's there, Dean."

Castiel studied his brother curiously.

Looking at Dean and then at the seat, Sam deliberately grabbed Dean's closest forearm. Before Dean could ask why his brother was suddenly handsy, Sam made direct eye contact with Castiel. First, he gasped, but then his face morphed into sheer confusion.

"Dean...why's that Polish actor from that show you like sitting in our back seat?"

Dean's eyes almost fell out of his head. "First of all, Dmitri Collins is Russian." He made sure to correct him first-priorities, after all. "Second, you can see Cas?"

"You're Castiel?" Sam asked cautiously.

Castiel nodded and greeted him warmly. "Hello, Sam."

Dean pulled Sam's hand off of his arm and let go. Immediately, Sam was looking around.

"What the hell? You touch me, and you can see Cas, too?"

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder this time and again locked eyes on Castiel. "Uh...hi again?"

Castiel tapped his chin. "Interesting. I didn't think I could manifest myself to anyone else, but Dean seems to be acting as a conduit."

"You could do this the whole time?" Dean asked, annoyed. While not happy about the idea of people hanging off of him, the conversation in the panic room would have been so much easier if Castiel could have explained his piece.

"I don't think so. I think my powers are growing stronger the longer we're out of Hell. But we are a unique amalgamation; everything is a learning curve."

"So...you're an Angel?" Sam looked him up and down.

"Yes, Sam, I'm an Angel," Castiel confirmed.

"Oh my God," Sam said in awe, then blinked. "Oh, no, I didn't mean...oh shit…I..." Horrified, he clapped his free hand over his mouth.

Castiel seemed bemused by Sam's verbal blunders if the curl at the edge of his lip was any indication. "Don't worry, Sam," he said. "You haven't even begun to scratch the surface of the indignities Dean has spouted my way so far."

"Alright," Dean said loudly. "We need supplies, and you and I are not holding hands the whole damn time so you two can keep flirting."

Still, Sam didn't let go of Dean's arm. Smirking at Dean, he asked Castiel innocently, "Why do you look like Dean's celebrity crush?"

"I do not have a crush!" Dean protested though he felt his cheeks get a little warm.

Castiel looked down at himself. "He was similar to my last vessel I had on Earth."

"You've been on Earth before?"

"Many times over the eons," Castiel replied. "Not recently, though."

Sam glanced at Dean, then at Castiel. "Look, I'm not sure how much you caught earlier, but-"

"I don't begrudge your suspicions. I wish I could do something to convince you of my trustworthiness." Castiel paused for a moment, eyes darting back and forth in thought. "Actually...there may be."

He grabbed Dean's shoulder and carefully reached out to Sam to test if he could touch him as well. His other hand curled over Sam's shoulder, so it seemed that Castiel could interact with others as long as Dean was the conduit.

"Cas, what are you about to do?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Don't let go." It was the only warning the brothers received before a flash of blinding pain hit them square in the chest. They both doubled over and groaned, but Sam never let go of Dean.

Seconds later, the pain faded to a dull ache, and Castiel released them both. He pulled back and swayed slightly in the seat.

Dean sat up first and immediately ran his hands over Sam's chest, then his own. "The hell'd you do?" he sputtered.

"Enochian sigil…" Castiel blinked slowly; his speech was almost slurred. "Hide you from every angel in creation...carved it into your ribs…."

Sam and Dean shared a look of indignant horror.

Castiel leaned forward towards them. "Used too much...need to rest."

He swayed one last time, then disappeared. Sam saw he was still holding Dean's arm, so he promptly let go. "Does he always just vanish like that?"

"Yeah, he's shit at goodbyes," Dean said.

They sat in the car for a moment of awkward silence. Eventually, Sam cleared his throat. "Well, having a face for the name makes this a bit easier. Is he okay?"

"No idea, he's never done that before," Dean admitted, running his thumb over his lip. He didn't physically feel any different, so he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Worry still gnawed at him.

Sam grimaced and rubbed his palm against his chest. "That hurt."

"You'll live," Dean dismissed him. "Though, we should probably hit up the ER and see what these tramps stamps say, huh?"

"Your's probably says 'Property of Castiel-Touch and Die.'" Sam managed to snicker.

"Fuck you, Sam, I ain't nobody's bitch. That's your job. Bitch."

"Jerk."

They drove to Sioux Falls, a pained huff filling the air of the car once in a while. When they got to town, the boys split up. Dean hit up the local grocery store, and Sam went to the local gun shop for ammo and other supplies.

Dean had just finished putting the last of the grocery bags in the Impala's trunk when he turned around to see Sam striding down the sidewalk away from where they'd parked. He watched as Sam scanned around then ducked into a side alley. There was suddenly a black-haired woman there, talking to him.

They were talking pretty animatedly. It took Dean a moment to realize that her black hair wasn't blowing in a breeze around her head-her face was made up of black smoke. He stood up straight when he realized Sam wasn't just talking to any demon. He recognized that ugly broad.

"Sunovabitch," he snarled, heart sinking.

"What do you mean, Dean's possessed?" She asked.

Sam was about to respond when Dean cleared his throat and stared at them from the entrance to the alley. He slowly strode inside, hands in his pockets, a forced casual air about him.

"Sam," he said, his calm tone belying the churning fury underneath. "Something you wanna share with the class?"

"Hey Dean," the woman said. She flippantly added, "Looking good for a dead guy."

"Ruby," he spat.

Despite appearing as a black-haired, tanned woman shorter than her last meat suit and wearing leather clothes, the swirling vortex of damnation still managed to look the same. "What gave me away?"

"The ugly that no amount of botox is ever going to fix."

"Dean, please," Sam said, trying to stop any bad blood from spilling, but he only managed to catch Dean's ire.

"Sam, the fuck are you're doing? I'm barely cold in the ground, and you're BFFs with Ruby?"

Sam nodded towards the demon. "We've been working together to take down some Lilith supporters. She was just passing on some information."

Dean crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I might have crawled out of my grave two days ago, but I wasn't born two days ago," he said.

Ruby interrupted him from laying in Sam further. "Might want to watch yourself, Dean," she simply said. "Your prison break is all over the papers. Demons will be crawling out of your asses soon enough. They'll drag you back to Lilith unless we take them out first."

"Ruby," Sam said, turning her attention from Dean's paling face to him. "Do you know anything about angels?" he asked, pivoting the conversation.

That shut her up for a moment. She pulled back from Sam and Dean, eyes darting between them. She swallowed before she spoke. "Angels? They're cosmic. The ground quakes when they walk. They can wipe a city off the map without blinking."

"Did you ever hear about a Fallen Angel named Castiel in Hell?" Sam pressed. Dean wanted to walk away and never look back, but his bow-legs stayed like they were stuck in quicksand.

"Fallen Angels are rare and even more dangerous. Is that who…?" She waved a hand at Dean.

"Do you know anything or not?" Sam repeated.

Ruby shrugged. "Just what's gone through the grapevine. I mean, Lucifer wasn't the only angel who Rebelled. Others did follow him."

"Cas said he didn't Fall 'til after Lucifer's Rebellion. He fought against him," Dean butted in.

Ruby gave him a condescending sneer. "Well, what else would Lucifer's right-hand man say, Dean? That he single-handedly killed half of Heaven's angels before they tossed him in the basement and threw away the key?"

Dean was torn between vomiting and stabbing her.

"That's not true," He protested roughly.

"How do you know, Dean? What, did he tell you not to go after Lilith or something? Sounds like something a lackey would do, doesn't it?"

He stomped forward and viciously pinned her to the brick wall. "You're lying," Dean snarled.

"Dean, knock it off!" Sam said.

"Can't believe you almost fell for it, Dean," Ruby tutted in disappointment, looking him up and down. "Guess Sam really is the brains of the operation, huh?"

Dean let her go and stepped back, not listening as she and Sam whispered final words before she disappeared again.

"Dean?" Sam's hand was on his shoulder. "We'll figure out something. Maybe there's a way to kick him out."

"Out?" Dean whipped around. "I'm not kicking Cas out."

"Dean, she said-"

"Gossip, Sam. Based on a rumor from Hell of all places."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Bobby's lore books just said an angel by the name existed, but no other details."

"Maybe Bobby's psychic friend can figure this out, or Missouri," Dean said. He started to pace back and forth like a caged animal.

"Dean, this thing is in you. How can you be willing to take that chance?"

"Because he's the only thing that's stopping the whole world from dragging me back to Hell, Sam!" Dean said desperately. "I can't go back, Sammy, I...FUCK!"

Dean punched the wall, the rough brick bruising his knuckles and scraping them raw. The pain was so minor compared to the things he'd gone through in his life-it was easy to ignore. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he marched away from Sam.