AN: So, I have good news and bad news. I know, way to open a charapter, right? But I want to let you know that I have gotten a new job and will be starting next week! This is a blessing after being home for a year without a job, and I'm happy about it. So, that's the good news.

The bad news, I suppose, is that I am going to ease back on future chapters. Instead of every Monday, I'm going to aim for every other Monday. So, chapter 13 should be up by Oct 11. If I can get it out faster, I'll upload faster, but I want to focus on my new job.

Please bear with me as I go through this. Writing Contingency has been my full-time job for these past few months. I've literally been writing this story live every week, and it's been a fantastic project. I've been partially nervous that slowing down will allow me to fall off the wagon, but life happens. Thank you for being awesome readers.

Early morning fog kept the grassy meadow they stood in seemingly cut-off from the rest of the world. The low birdsong, the hum of summer insects, and the occasional cry of a morning dove were the only indications of life outside this little field. Somehow, their utterly silent yet shocked expressions managed to stifle the other noises around them.

Dean knew his jaw was currently on the ground as he stared at Cas, who refused to look at him at all.

He just...what just happened?

Gabriel stared at Cas like he just witnessed lobsters crawling out of the fallen angel's ears. Usually, Dean would be a fan of anything that could knock the smarmy asshole down a peg. Anything but this.

Sam covered his mouth with his palm, eyebrows up his hairline. Getting his wits quicker than the others, he demanded in a shaky, disbelieving voice, "Cas, what are you talking about?"

Cas straightened his shoulders, lifted his head. "I'm dead as an angel," he said simply. "Being cast down means I can't return to Heaven. With my wings broken, if I end up back in Hell, I'm trapped forever. I'll always be hunted for what I've done." Cas took a breath. "I'm already dead; this way, I can gain absolution."

He made his case directly to Gabriel, not looking at either Sam or Dean. Every word out of Cas's mouth was a hammer blow to Dean's heart. "Cas," he managed to whisper hoarsely around the painfully swollen lump in his throat. "You can't…."

Dean blinked hard several times and had to step away. He knew logically that Cas was still in his head no matter what he did, but he had to get a little air. Taking shelter under an oak tree a few paces away, Dean kept his back to the others. His eyes kept darting back and forth, unable to stay in one place. Unconsciously, he pushed the heel of his palm into his chest because his heart pounded like the ghost sickness was running through his veins again. But he understood no amount of pressure was going to keep his heart from breaking.

He heard Cas speaking behind him, voice rough. "Gabriel," Cas paused, cleared his throat. "Under these circumstances, this makes the most sense," he pressed. "This is the right thing to do."

Dean was barely breathing, and his breath hitched when Cas implored softly. "Please let me do this."

Dean put one hand out against the rough bark of the trunk to keep him upright; he shoved his fist to his mouth and bit his knuckle hard, almost the point of blood. No, no, Cas, come on, don't do this! If Cas were an average person, he'd had tackled his stupid ass to the ground and started beating sense into him with his boot.

Behind him, Gabriel sighed heavily, clearly taking a moment to think. Dean was going to throw up. He had to actively swallow to keep the rising bile down. I can't hear this. I can't listen to him agree like Cas doesn't matter-

"Cas, that's awfully noble and self-sacrificing of you, but it's not happening."

Dean could have sworn there was a record scratch somewhere because when he whirled back around, Cas was now the one who looked like his world was just rocked: eyebrows up, jaw slightly hanging open before he gathered himself. "What? Gabriel-"

"Zip. It." Gabriel snapped his fingers and an oversized metal zipper replaced Cas's lips, and they zipped shut. Cas tried to unzip them, but it wouldn't budge. That was horrifying in its own way but, for once, Dean was grateful to Gabriel's antics. "How can I put this kindly…?" He tapped his chin then threw his hands up. "You know what-screw kindly. You literally don't have the juice for this spell."

Cas had narrowed his eyes and squinted hard at the archangel, clearly disbelieving him. The grace inside him was vibrating, and it set Dean's teeth on edge.

"Yeah, your shredded-up grace means you'll be lucky to power a potato clock, and this spell needs a nuclear warhead." Gabriel shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and shook his head. "Sorry, Cas, no dice."

Sam sagged in the relief that Dean wished he himself could genuinely appreciate. "Really?"

Cas was full-on scowling now, but Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. "The grace is going to power the outside of the box, keeping it locked tight. Nothing gets in or out. Lilith is powerful; she'll try to fight against it. And there'll be others who may try to get her out. We need this thing to be so solid even Dad can't crack it."

With a flicker, Cas disappeared and reappeared a few steps away without the zipper on his face. "If God actually wanted to release her, nothing we could do could stop him."

While rolling his eyes, Gabriel groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's just an expression. Considering how often He's 'stepped in' over the years, I'm not that concerned."

"Alright then," Dean said to himself as he sucked in a breath of relief. He wiped his hand over his face one more time and walked back to the others, trying to stand tall. Inside, Cas was furiously churning, a ball of frigid lightning waiting for someone to touch metal so it could discharge. Dean was royally pissed, only the barest hint of control keeping him together at that moment. So, he ignored Cas, standing there with his eyes bright and hurt.

Deal with later, he told himself. Shove it down and deal with it later. Work first.

"So, how do we get an angel?" He asked as professionally as possible. "Put a slice of angel food cake on a plate in the middle of a bear trap or what?"

The joke helped ease his breathing a little, especially when Gabriel actually laughed. "If only it were that easy. Honestly, I was thinking about going to the prophet and catching the angel on protection duty for him. Make Raphael useful for once," he said.

"Oh, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel! Yeah, I…" Dean's voice died, memories of the arcade date, the kiss in the alley, now spoiled. Cas was going to throw it away, and so damn quickly, because it didn't mean anything to him.

Cas stole a glance towards him, and Dean cleared his throat. He rubbed the back on his neck. "I, uh, heard of him."

Crossing his arms, Cas commented, "Would leaving the prophet that vulnerable truly be wise?"

"Since when do you suddenly care about making a wise choice?" Dean snapped, catching and keeping Cas's gaze. "Didn't seem like it when you threw yourself on a grenade thirty seconds ago."

"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle stupid, Dean?" Cas challenged, eyes narrowed as he tilted his head towards Sam. His little brother winced, instantly making Dean's hackles rise.

"Don't you dare," Dean ground out dangerously. "That's not the same."

"Really?" Cas stormed up to Dean, all cold fury-Dean realized belatedly he was about to become Cas's personal lightning rod. "I at least considered all my possibilities and decided this was the best course of action. This wasn't a reckless exchange of souls; it was strategic."

Strategic...how long was he planning on this little suicide mission?

"You son of a bitch," Dean snarled in realization, remembering Cas's weird moodiness. "You were...you were saying goodbye last night, weren't you?" He tried to keep his voice quiet and even in front of Sam and Gabriel, but he couldn't help the hurt in those words.

Cas was clearly taken aback by this pivot in the conversation because he seemed to deflate a little. He tore his eyes away from Dean, the tendon in his neck standing out from clenching his jaw. I wanted to leave you with one last, good memory, he admitted.

Dean's brain glitched for a second. It...that was all an act?

The stupid candles and the rain. Cas, like a force of nature in human form, making him see stars. And afterward, when Cas curled around him and held onto him so tightly, kissed him so sweetly, like he cared. Like he gave a damn at all…?

Jesus, give the angel an Emmy for that performance.

He unconsciously pressed a fingertip into the bruise on his wrist and winched. The marks on his skin felt tainted now.

Didn't mean anything. The mantra kept running around in his head. Cas was playing a role, and I fucking fell for it.

Dean was an absolute idiot-he knew Cas didn't get it. He was basically an alien and only went along with the physical stuff because Dean asked. Last night, though...he thought Cas had been starting to flip to the same page. Clearly, though, they weren't in the same book. Hell, not even in the same bookstore, probably not even the same continent at this point.

"Guys," Sam said pleadingly, hands out. "Can you discuss this later?"

Sam's right, Cas said, eyes flickering over their brothers. Can we discuss this later? Alone?

"I dunno Cas; what the fuck is there to discuss?"

Memories came and went: of watching their house explode and burn down while his screaming baby brother was shoved into his tiny arms. Of his father keeling over in the hospital after having sold his soul for Dean to stay alive. Of Sam, on his knees in the mud at Cold Oak, his blood and life trickling, still warm, through Dean's frantic hands as he tried to keep Sammy upright.

They all died on my watch. They all died on me, left me behind. They were taken from me because I'm poison to everything I give a damn about.

Dean fixed Cas with a misty, betrayed glare. They were all killed, but you fucking volunteered.

The smokey voice from the darkest place in his heart whispered into his head: Cas saw the writing on the wall and just jumped ship early before you caused his death. Impressive. Not even a fallen angel wants anything to do with you.

Cas's eyes darted over his face. "Dean, it's not what you think," he protested. Maybe he was picking up some of Dean's thoughts but that didn't matter.

Dean's pursed his lips and said with deadly calm, "Oh, so now I'm stupid."

Now? No, I always have been; that's nothing new. Dean did what he had to do, so Sam had his books and supplies. Every day Dean gave Sam everything he had and then some because he knew Sam was the smart one. And what did he get for all that self-sacrifice? Sammy taking off for college without a goodbye, barely telling Dean he got a full ride to Stanford before he was gone in the night.

Just a grunt who's good with a gun-nothing more, nothing less.

Dean blinked hard, swallowed even harder with Cas staring through him. The pain in his heart made his words sharp as shrapnel from a bomb. "You're saying I'm too stupid to understand what the fuck suicide is?"

Too stupid to see this train coming at me at a hundred miles per hour, more like.

"That's not-" Cas was struggling. That's not what I was saying or doing. Don't put words in my mouth.

"Then what were you doing, jackass?" Dean yelled, refusing to speak in his head. He wanted witnesses to hear and confirm the idiocy Cas was spouting.

Cas straightened up, fire in his eyes. "There's a bigger picture here!" he snapped. "This is about the fate of the planet, Dean. 4.6 billion people saved if Lilith is locked away and you stay out of Hell. Heaven's hands are tied, and you will be safe. Sam will be safe. Like Gabriel said himself, it's worth one angel's sacrifice."

Dean took a few steps forward and back, both hands in his hair. "So instead of talking about it, you just decide this on your own?" He waved towards Gabriel. "You just decide that I want to see my best friend kill himself to power a chastity belt on a demon for the rest of eternity?!"

"Wow," Gabriel cringed. "You're not a poet, but you do have an unfortunate way with words, Winchester. Thanks for that mental image."

Both Cas and Dean glared at him for interrupting, but he shrugged. "As riveting as this soap opera is, I have things to do. So, when you chuckleheads get your crap sorted out and wanna get this show on the road," He flicked his hand, and a golden business card appeared. "Call me."

As he handed the card to Sam, he winked. "You, however, have Express Permission to call me at any time. Adios!"

With a snap, Gabriel was gone, and Sam was left staring at the card. His mouth hung open slightly for a few seconds. "Dean," he said slowly. "The Archangel Gabriel just gave me his phone number?"

The absolute befuddlement on Sam's face drew Dean's attention away from Cas completely. "You just went time traveling with him, but him giving you his digits that's throwing you off?"

"He needed ingredients for the spell and just asked if I wanted to tag along," Sam explained. "This is…"

Instead of trying to explain, Sam carefully pocketed the card. Then, he sized them both up and asked warily, "So...now what?"

The awkward tension in the air between them made Dean shake out his hands, hoping to dispel the negative energy churning within him. He clapped loudly. "Let's look for a case somewhere. I wanna work." Distract myself. Don't think anything.

He headed back to the Impala to stow the clay jar of oil in the trunk. As he passed Cas, the angel tried to reach out and touch him, on his arm or shoulder or something; Dean jerked back like a cobra had been about to bite him.

Absolutely not, he snarled mentally.

Cas's shoulders slumped; while he didn't say anything, he still was trying to appear reserved and resolute. Even the grace within Dean was still as a marble statue. Dean, why are you upset? This was the best course of action under the circumstances.

A painful, almost hysterical laugh ripped itself out of Dean. "Don't say another word," he said. "Or I swear to God I'll kick you out, and I don't mean the fucking car."

For a second, Cas drew back, startled and terrified at the threat Dean had lobbed so casually at him. But then the wrath was back as Cas's eyes flickered dangerously with blue light.

"How hypocritical," Cas snarled, walking until he was almost chest to chest with him. "Well, Dean, you can't have it both ways, so do you want me to live or die? Which is it?"

The words were spat so much acid they almost stung Dean physically. Before he could say something else he'd regret Sam stepped up to them.

"Alright," He said and shoved himself between them. "That's enough. Both of you need to cool it." He focused on Cas and said calmly. "Give him space, Cas, now."

With one final glower aimed at the both of them, Cas vanished into thin air. Dean felt hollow, defeated and deflated as the fight left him once Cas was out of sight.

"Dean?"

He didn't respond from across the diner booth. They were camped out in a corner, unable to drive too much farther without cash, so the plan was to wait at the diner until a bar opened up and try to hustle for money. They couldn't afford just to drive around if they weren't heading to a case, and even then, just barely. He loved his Baby, but she guzzled gas like a Hebrew lost in the desert for forty years would guzzle water.

So, they parked and waited. And Sam was giving him the damn 'you know you can talk to me' face that Dean hated because he hated talking about shit. Especially anything feelings-related.

His brother glanced around before he leaned forward, both nursing their umpteenth cup of coffee because the infinite coffee refills were all they could afford. "I know you're pissed, and it's probably not my place-"

"Then stay out of it," Dean hissed back. His hands were in his lap, and he was fiddling with his beaded bracelet. The familiar little wooden beads, worn smooth from years of exposure, were helping Dean rein in his still billowing anger by distracting him.

Sam sighed and pushed his hair from his face. "Dean, I think you should ease up on Cas some."

That so completely caught Dean off guard that he could feel his jaw go slack for a second. He clapped it closed with a loud click. "What?"

Sam put up his hands in a placating gesture while keeping them wrapped about his coffee mug. "All I'm saying is that Cas seemed to be barely holding himself together when he was making his case to Gabriel. While your back was turned? It's like, as soon as you couldn't see him, he was falling apart."

It sure didn't sound like it. Dean remembered him sounding resolute, and the grace inside him hadn't budged an inch. "I thought you were his friend. How can you defend this bullshit?"

"Oh, no, Cas is a complete idiot," Sam clarified. "But he's also not human, Dean. While you were out, I saw how Cas and Gabriel interacted-he's very much the Spock to your Kirk. Logic reigns supreme for him. In that light, I can see his point about absolution."

Sam made sure he had Dean's full attention. "Like we all haven't made shitty choices trying to do the right thing. Pot to kettle to cauldron, the three of us."

Dean broke his gaze away, unable to process anything more at the moment. He was tangled up inside, emotions all over and unsure which was right or wrong or anything. He wanted to rip Cas's head from his non-existent shoulders, but at the same time, he wanted to curl up into a ball and never move again.

Lips drawn thin, Sam stood up and patted him on the shoulder before he headed to the other side of the restaurant for the bathrooms. He proceeded to rip up the paper covering of a straw, creating a tiny pile of paper strips while he waited. He ignored the gnawing in his stomach, the acid burning up his throat from stress and sloshing around inside him with nothing to soak it up.

At that moment, their waitress returned but instead of coming with coffee refills, she was bearing two giant trays burdened with plates of food. "Sorry for the wait, handsome," she smiled warmly. As she saddled up to their table, she started setting down plates.

Dean frowned. "Uh, no, we didn't order anything."

She winked at him. "A nice gentleman picked up the tab for you two. Enjoy!"

When Sam walked back, Dean was still staring at the plates of food on their table. Everything from breakfast foods to burgers and fries. His stomach was rioting, but he held himself back.

"Sammy," he said suspiciously. "Someone paid for this?"

"But who-?" The only syrup bottle provided for the two stacks of pancakes on the table was filled with a bright red liquid. Sam reached out, poured a drop on his index finger, sniffed and tasted it. "Strawberry," he huffed. "Gabriel, then."

Dean scratched his head. "Why?"

"What, I can't just be nice?" Both brothers jumped when Gabriel appeared in the booth seat next to Sam, taking obvious pleasure in scaring them. Dean's knee-jerk reaction was to say that was Cas's spot, but then he remembered he was still mad at the stupid fallen angel.

"I thought you said you had things to do?" Dean asked suspiciously.

Gabriel raised his eyebrow. "I did them," he said easily. "Though, it's kinda rude to give the guy who bought your chow the third degree."

Dean leaned forward. "It matters if you were out killing someone for one of your weird pranks," he said darkly.

The alien depth flashed across his eyes, and he also leaned forward. "I wasn't, for your information. Not that you're my keeper or anything."

Sam, who was glancing between them, gauging the tension in the air, suddenly grimaced when his stomach growled loudly. That cracked Dean's resolve instantly.

"Well, we won't let this go to waste then. Eat up, Sammy."

As they tucked into their meals, Dean didn't want to eat. Being so distraught had killed his appetite, but he had been through enough lean winters to know no emotional state stops you from eating your fill when you can. You can always mope around later on, but food is never a guarantee.

He watched Gabriel and Sam out of the corner of his eye. They were muttering back and forth to each other, just quiet enough Dean couldn't hear what they were saying. It was weird, and Dean could admit that to himself. The Trickster had never shown interest in Sam before and certainly never seemed keen on helping them in the past. He was the reason Dean had died a hundred times, literally. Dean could recognize he was missing some puzzle pieces, but he didn't have enough energy to bother asking now.

Sitting up tall in the faded pleather booth (and not even hitting Sam's shoulders for it), Gabriel snapped. Two credit cards appeared in his hands, and he gave one to each of them. Dean took the card and stared at the logo: six white bird wings in a circle, but no other information like a name, a card number, nothing.

"What's this?" Dean asked.

"Funding," Gabriel said.

"You're, what, sponsoring us?" Sam asked curiously.

A lollipop appeared in Gabriel's hand, and it waved it around as he spoke. "Cas might have been going about it back-asswards, but Lilith is the priority. I've been on the wrong end of your pointy pine branches," he wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, who rolled his eyes. "Since I know to place my bets on you two muttonheads, I can at least keep your palms greased and your wheels turning. Oh!"

He snapped and thumbed out the window from where they were sitting towards the Impala. Dean's face paled.

"What did you do to my car?"

Gabriel gave him a winning smile. "Permanent full tank of gas."

"You mojo'd my Baby?" Dean growled.

"Yep," Gabriel chirped, smacking his lips loudly around the candy. "You're welcome."

From Sam's pocket came the cheerful ringtone of his cellphone. "Hey, Bobby. Yeah, uh, things are, uh...good," Sam said diplomatically as he took in Dean's scowl and Gabriel's challenging smirk.

"Seriously? Wow, that's, uh, okay. Yeah, uh, give me a minute too, uh…" Sam frantically patted his pockets for a pen or something, but Gabriel snapped once more and handed Sam a brand new legal pad and a pen.

Thanks, Sam mouthed, and the archangel shrugged nonchalantly. For several minutes Sam was taking diligent notes and Dean's leg was bouncing under the table. He was impatient to see what was so interesting. Finally, Sam hung up and huffed in disbelief. "So, um, got a bit of a weird situation," he started.

"What's up?"

"Might be something, might be nothing," Sam said, tapping the notepad with the pen. "So, you know how Bobby has a network of Collars that keep an eye out for things?"

Dean blinked once. "He has a network of...what? Please don't tell me Bobby's into safe, sane, and consensual."

"Uh," Sam shuddered in disgust. "Dude, seriously? You're mixing up porn and reality again." He tapped the notebook purposefully. "Collars, as in Holy Men, you idiot," Sam ran a hand over his face, clearly pained at being related to Dean at that moment. "There are holy men throughout the country who've run into the supernatural at some point. Sometimes a werewolf eats a member of the congregation, or they have actual demon possession. These people know to reach out to Bobby for help when something like that happens."

"And that's my fun fact for the day," Dean said. "You gonna get to the good stuff sometime this century?"

Sam frowned but continued. "So, a priest reached out to Bobby because he was contacted by a young woman. She attacked an orderly at the mental hospital she was recently admitted to, and her parents-a preacher and his wife-were murdered in their home. She's currently hiding in her father's church. She called the priest because he was a friend of her father's."

"Sounds crazy, but it doesn't sound like our kinda crazy," Dean pointed out.

Sam glanced down at his notes, his index finger running over the page as he read. Gabriel watched Sam's hand glide over the page. "She was locked up for claiming to be able to hear the voices of angels and was talking about the oncoming Apocalypse. She claimed people with black eyes were trying to kill her."

Gabriel pondered silently for a moment, the utter stillness reminding Dean that he wasn't human for all his personality. Sam turned to him. "Would someone being able to hear angels help you catch one?"

"It could be helpful," Gabriel admitted. "I've never heard of a human being able to hear angels and not be a prophet or something."

Dean started grabbing his stuff. "As long as she stays on hallowed ground, the demons can't get her. But if the cops decide she's a suspect and drag her out or something, she's fair game. We gotta get to her."

"We need to move fast," Sam agreed. "Luckily, it seems like she's only about three hours from here."

"Do we have a name for our mystery girl?" Dean asked, slipping the golden card into his wallet.

Sam checked his notes. "Anna Milton."

"As fascinating as this is," Gabriel interjected. "Gonna need to hit the road. If she knows anything about angels...it's bad enough you figured me out, anyone else, and it could get back to Heaven." Gabriel shook his head. "Better I take off now, save my cover."

"Hey, how much is on this thing?" Sam asked, waving the card.

The Trickster gave him a lop-sided grin. "There aren't enough zeros to denote infinity," he chuckled. "It's magic, Samster, don't worry about it. Give me an update once you've got her stashed away somewhere safe." With that, Gabriel disappeared.

The brothers sat in the booth, and both stared at the car in Sam's hand. "In-did he say infinity?" Dean asked slowly.

Sam nodded. "I, uh, have no idea what to do about this."

"Don't lose the damn thing. That's what you do with it." He ran a hand around his mouth and scratched his jaw. "You aren't...I mean, you two didn't…."

Sam just stared at him. Then he jerked back like someone had hit him in the face with a cinderblock. "Dean, NO."

Dean held his hands up. "He just seems sweet on you, all of a sudden."

"...was that a Trickster joke?" Sam demanded. "Gross, Dean."

Sam didn't say they were doing anything, so that's a load off my mind. "Look, we got a girl to save, so let's ride." As they got in the Impala, Gabriel was right, the gas tank was full, and a tiny part of Dean was honestly relieved to see that. Maybe things could look up.

The image of Cas flashed across his mind, and he didn't know what to do. His anger was always fast and devastating, like a wildfire, but he was still no better at dealing with the aftermath. Dean missed Cas, despite being able to sense the stupid bastard literally inside him. This was the weirdest fight he'd ever had in his life. It wasn't like you could slam doors in your soul.

There were a few hours out before finding their victim, and he couldn't be bothered to pick a tape for the ride. Sam opted to pull on his noise-canceling headphones and connected them to his rescued iPod. He was listening to something and making notes on the legal pad. He'd be distracted for a while.

Dean allowed himself to go into the fugue state he sometimes could reach while driving. He could mull over problems or cases, and his muscle memory and honed reflexes handled the driving. Since this part of the country was boring and the weather was nice, he allowed highway hypnosis to lull him into that little zen.

Cas? The little ball of grace moved as if startled. Don't come out, Dean said, hands tightening around the steering wheel as they cruised. The idea of seeing Cas right then made his stomach ache. Just giving you a heads up. Going to check out a woman who claims she can hear angels and that demons are on her tail. If things get hairy, you still got my back, right?

As much as my shredded and useless grace will allow.

Dean bit his lip. That's not an honest answer, asshole.

How a ball of angelic lightning managed to roll its eyes, he'd never be able to explain. I'll always have your back, Dean. No matter how badly we disagree.

He was trying to keep his calm, but Cas's surly attitude made Dean snap. This isn't a disagreement. Dean blew hotly out of his nose, nostrils flaring. You lied to me, you manipulated me, and then tried to sacrifice yourself for the greater good! There's nothing to disagree over. There's a right and a wrong here, and you're squarely in the wrong.

Dean, it was the right call, and I won't argue over it anymore. What's done is done.

God, Cas, how can you think of yourself so little? He hadn't meant to ask that out loud, sometimes having both inner monologue and inner telepathy means things got crossed once in a while.

I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I? Cas shot back. At least the essence of who you were was considered worthy of the sacrifice.

That knocked some of the wind from his sails. Shit. Psyching yourself up for this suicide mission, convinced you're a dead man walking, only to be told you're literally not good enough?

Dean was quiet, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, watching the road ahead. He stole a glance towards Sam. How would I have felt if that Crossroads bitch told me I literally didn't have it in me to save my little brother?

Not ready to fully back down, Dean quipped, Guess we're just two overenthusiastic lemmings trying to jump off any cliff we can find, huh?

Cas's angry vibrations eased up a little. Dean, lemmings don't jump off cliffs.

He didn't want to, he wanted to stay mad, but the fire was draining away. He didn't like how his temper blew up but wasn't sure how to manage it either. Still, Cas's complete lack of understanding made him chuckle softly; he took a second to appreciate that Cas was still there to misunderstand him.

It's just a saying, he explained.

He must have sensed Dean's temper calming down a little because Cas bravely asked, What do you mean I lied and manipulated you?

Dean looked over, saw Sam was still busy and the road only had a couple of cars in front of him. The leather creaked under his hand as he gripped its head. You putting me under to talk to Gabe. You were already planning something, weren't you? And you didn't want me to hear it and stop it because you knew it was a stupid idea. How can I trust you after a stunt like that?

The grace bristled at his accusation. No, that wasn't what happened. The memory sharing was an essential process, and it could have hurt you. But we did talk strategy afterward; he did mention the spell and the grace needed.

So, while your brother is running around with mine, you just decide to...Memories of the cabin felt sour now. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt. It was getting hot in the driver's seat as the sun beat down on them, but he couldn't let Sam see the marks and bruises. He still wasn't sure how he felt about them anymore. Play me? Distract me?

After I decided my course of action, Cas said, rather tactfully for him. I decided that I wanted to give you a gift.

Dean almost hit the brakes becuase now he was extremely confused. Wait, what? You decided to give me the gift of...a blowjob?

The best blowjob you ever had, Cas smugly corrected. Your words.

But, why? Dean was still baffled.

Because sharing a vessel with an angel in the best of times is a difficult and invasive process, permission aside. But our situation? So many aspects have made your life even more complicated, but you've rolled with the punches so well. You've had to sacrifice so much, Dean. I wanted to give you something back.

Sam was sketching something on his paper, so he wouldn't see the blush lighting up Dean's cheeks, but he had to know something. Mental talking was so much easier in some ways.

So, when we did what we did...was that even you? Or were you acting like that cause you'd thought I'd like it?

If Cas were in front of him, he probably would have been wringing his hands; at least, that's what the grace felt like. That was me, Dean. I had a plan, but then I deviated from it because I was enjoying myself more than I had expected. While being with you carnally has been most enlightening, I find I enjoy our time together in any aspect.

Jesus, Romeo, I get it. Dean coughed at Cas's usual lack of decorum and he prayed Sam didn't look over. He could probably cook an egg on his face at that moment.

Dean chewed on his lip more and blinked a couple of times, then took a chance. Did you get anything out of it?

Do you mean, was it physically stimulating?

Sam was right. He is a Spock.

It confirmed Dean's suspicion, though, that Cas had no skin in the game except for in a sexy way. In some ways, it was a relief. They could go back to the way things were. In others, that felt so much worse becuase it meant he was the only boat on the ocean, and that was a whole new level of loneliness.

Dean cleared his throat, even though he wasn't talking out loud. Don't worry about it, Cas. I'll let you know if we need your help.

Dean knew as soon as he thought it that was the wrong choice of words. Cas's walls, which had been coming down, slammed back up. You have Gabriel's number now, He groused. I'm sure you would prefer having an all-powerful archangel watching over you.

Dean wanted to throttle him all over again. Yeah, well, guess what? He dipped as soon as he heard about the case and ran like a coward. You've never run away, no matter how shitty our situations are, so I'd rather have you.

Dean, you do realize I literally cannot leave you, right?

CAS, Dean grunted in exasperation. He was loud enough that he caught Sam's attention, who started to pull his headphones off. Dean waved at him, and Sam frowned but went back to his music. I don't care what Gabriel can or can't do. I don't care how shredded or cursed you think you are-you're the one I want at my back, Cas.

For a brief second, Dean panicked because he just left that wide open for Cas to ask why, and he didn't have a good answer.

Cas sighed. No matter how long I'm around you, I still don't understand humans and their illogical reasoning for things. But fine. I'll be here if you need me.

Dean let out the breath he was holding slowly. He would have sent up a prayer, but he knew for certain no one was listening or cared.

In the early afternoon, they pulled up to the church. Despite being old, the baby blue siding was clean, the white trim around the windows spotless, and the garden leading up the steps was orderly with flowers and shrubs. The two bell towers stood tall, and except for an ornate, circular stained-glass window, a riot of colors that reminded him of Cas's wings, the place wasn't ornate. It was a simple place of faith and didn't pretend to be anything else.

Still, Dean got the sense of power thrumming through the air as soon as he opened the door of the Impala and stepped outside. Matching his stride, Sam also stepped outside, and the little curious narrow ow his eyes meant Sam felt it too. "What's that?" Sam asked.

Hallowed ground, Cas explained. Angels are sensitive to the power in sacred places.

"Cas's grace lets us feel hallowed ground," Dean explained.

For a second, a little, wondrous smile crossed Sam's face before he schooled himself. Dean couldn't blame him for the reaction-he didn't believe in angels not too long ago, either. Sam nodded his understanding and they checked their handguns, safety's off, and a bullet in the chamber. Sam had the demon knife tucked in his belt loop.

As they silently made their way to the church doors, and Dean wondered about the morally gray area of breaking into a church to help someone. Cas was silent on his musings, probably keeping an eye/ear/whatever a ball of sentient lightning keeps on the lookout.

They headed up to the attic, guns drawn. Ascending the old stairs, they tried to keep quiet but a creak sounded under Dean's boot. He just got to the top of the landing when he noticed movement in the back corner of the room. Once actually in the attic, Dean took a quick glance around. The place was dark, with low ceilings with dark wooden beams and arches. Old metal lanterns hung from the ceiling, there were cobwebs and dusty everywhere. The usual things people kept in attics were here too, like dusty cardboard boxes, wooden picture frames, bags, and a mannequin for sewing. There were some differences. Tons of religious art were everywhere, there were displays of ritual stuff (Dean wondered if they should help themselves for future hunts) there were multiple statues of the Virgin Mary. The most impressive was a white marble statue of her close to the other side of the room.

The low ceilings and religious stuff tucked away around them gave way to a vaulted open area, and a giant rectangle stained glass window checkered with boxes of purple and pink frosted glass, filtered in the afternoon sunlight. Dean motioned toward the corner he'd seen movement. They carefully walked forward, matching strides, and Sam called out, "Anna? Anna Milton? My name is Sam Winchester. You called Father Hamilton, and he asked for us to come to help you." He put his gun away and motioned for Dean to do the same.

"Sam Winchester?" asked a quiet, female voice. Out from behind a painting of a bunch of angels fighting a dragon came a young woman. She had long red hair, was slim with pale skin. Dressed in jeans, a white blouse, and a green jacket not unlike his own, she stepped in front of the purple mosaic window, and she was beautiful.

Dean openly gaped at her for a second when she focused her eyes on him. "If you're Sam, then that makes you Dean, right? The Dean?"

"Uh," Dean blinked and turned on his charming smile. "Yeah, that's me." He saw Sam roll his eyes out of the corner of his vision, but she was carefully making her way towards them.

She stopped, arm's length from them, and her pretty, dark green eyes were misty and red-rimmed as she took them in. "The angels talk about you two," she said excitedly. "A lot. I almost feel like I know you from them."

Cas was hanging on to every word curiously. "You talk to the angels?" Sam asked.

"Oh no, no, no," Anna said meekly, looking at the dusty floorboards. "They probably don't know who I am at all."

"Do you hear anything now?" Dean asked.

"No, not at the moment," she answered. "But, sometimes, it's a lot, it's overwhelming," she winced for a second. "But, I just suddenly could hear them one day."

How interesting, Cas wondered.

Dean grinned. "So, you got locked up with the crazies when all you were doing was tuning in to angel radio?"

Anna slumped with relief as someone seemed to understand her. "Yes, exactly, thank you!"

"You said this started recently. Do you have any idea when?" Sam asked her.

"I can tell you the exact date. July 18," she said promptly, and they looked at each other.

"The day we got out of Hell," Dean said quietly to Sam.

"I remember the first thing I heard, clear as a bell: 'I have saved Dean Winchester.'"

She intoned the words like the literal holy proclamation they were: quietly and reverently.

Unfortunately, Dean coughed hard and covered his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Jeez, Cas, why don't you piss around me in the circle," Dean snorted aloud, able to feel Cas vibrate indignantly under his skin.

Anna pulled back, her look of awe for Dean morphing into one of confusion. "I...excuse me?"

"Ah shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud, sorry." Cas? Wanna introduce yourself? Think angel girl might appreciate talking to an angel.

That's what I'm afraid of, Cas admitted stiffly. I'm better at smiting things than talking to them.

I'm not asking.

Cas sighed, and they switched. Tap tap. Anna drew back, eyes wide when the blue glow flashed over their eyes. Then she started screaming.

She scrambled backward, eyes wide and terrified as she pointed at them. "Your face! What happened to-"

"Be not afraid, Anna," Cas said, his voice vibrating Dean's vocal cords strangely. He held up his hands. " I'm an angel, and I'm the one who pulled Dean from Perdition. My name is Cas-"

"-tiel?" Instead of calming her, Anna panicked even more so, eyes wide and her face pale in fright. "They talk about you," she whispered. "The Fallen Angel Castiel...you're as bad as Lucifer! You're single-handedly ruining God's plan."

Cas ground his teeth. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but you can't always believe the things you're told, Anna. Things aren't always what they seem, and they certainly aren't black-and-white."

When Anna didn't move and her frightened glare never wavered, Dean decided to step in. Tap tap. Dean shook his head, and she tilted her head curiously. "You...what just happened?"

"We'll explain later," He said, offering out his hand to help her up. Her hand in his was hand, lithe fingers warm to the touch. "Come on. We gotta get out of here."

Dean pulled her towards the stairs where Sam was waiting when the building suddenly lurched and shook under their feet. The metal lanterns and incense holders swayed around them, the wood creaked and groaned. They looked at each other in confusion when the movement stopped just as quietly. Cas didn't ask before he grabbed the reins Tap tap "We have company," Cas said, and he tilted his head towards the white marble statue of Mary-it was crying bloody tears. "Demon. A powerful one, if it can cross onto hallowed ground." He turned to Sam. "We'll fight. You hide and protect Anna. The second there's an opening, you take it and run. We'll regroup later, understand?"

"This way!" Anna said, leading him to a broom closet in the back of the room. They got inside (it was a tight fit for Sam) but he managed it. Sam pulled the door shut but left a sliver open so he could watch and wait for their moment.

Dean was antsy and trying not to panic. He knew Cas would protect them, protect Sam, and Anna to the best of his ability. But being forced to watch his body fight while essentially being paralyzed inside it was not an experience he looked forward to having.

The pressure in the room changed abruptly, like a cold front sweeping across the plains on a hot summer day. Were he in control his ears probably would have popped. The door was viciously kicked open and an older man in a navy jacket, white shirt, and khakis waltzed inside. Dean was glad he wasn't in control because he probably would have vomited at the thick smell of burnt flesh and sulfur, and by what he was seeing.

Dean, weirdly enough, had been getting used to seeing demon's true faces thanks to Cas's influence. The creature before them was a whole new level of nasty he'd never imagined. In place of the usual writhing black smoke, this demon's essence looked like a tornado of bloody barbed wire. Instead of being contained in the head, this demon's essence was all over the meatsuit, the smokey tendrils burrowing and out of the flesh like metallic worms.

"Alastair," Cas growled, standing tall.

Can you throw up in your own head? He was going to figure out how, because his worst nightmare was standing five feet in front of him, inside of a fucking church, no less. Dean scrambled back as far as possible (not very far considering he was trapped in his own body), terrified at what he was seeing. That's what Alasaitr actually looked like in Hell? Dean had only been able to make out what was a bloody shadow with a toothy grin, nothing like this. Oh, God.

"Well, look at that," Alastair hissed with a lisp, hands on his hips. "Came to collect a little girl, and I instead find one wayward Winchester. Hello Dean," he said fondly, and Dean shuddered inside.

Cas, run, get outta here, get Sammy and the girl, and RUN

Alastair's eyes roamed over their body, and Dean his picking where to put the blade next. He's gonna start and never stop he's gonna

Dean, calm down, Cas tried, but Dean was curled up in a ball and trying not to move, trying not to draw his attention in any way.

"Don't worry, Dean," Alastair hissed soothingly, the mockery of a lover's heartfelt whisper. "As soon as I rip that sanctimonious infection from your veins, I can bring you home."

Cas's head tilted down ever so slightly as he pinned the demon with his intense stare. Dean felt a weird pull in his back and shoulders as Cas summoned his broken wings into the real world. Dean couldn't see them but he could feel the heft of them, spread up and out in something like a threat display.

The magnificent stained-glass window filtered the sunlight into purple rays over them, which allowed Dean to see the wings' shadows spread across the floor before them and over the demon. When Cas growled an ultimatum, Dean could tell some of his true voice was woven into the words because his ears ached. "Walk away, or I burn you beyond ash."

"Think I'll take my chances," Alastair hissed easily.

In less than a blink, Cas had tucked his wings away and leaped towards the demon. Dean was having a hard time even keeping up with what was happening. Cas and Alastair started trading punches and jabs faster than normal humans could have pulled off. He went low and swept the demon's legs out from under him and while the demon fell Cas manifested his angel blade. He brought it down hard, aiming for the heart, but Alastair threw a hand out. Using Cas's forward momentum against him, as well the telekinetic force, meant Cas crashed through a wooden support beam holding the ceiling up above them. The ceiling groaned overhead and the building shook slightly.

As the dust billowed around them, Cas rolled back to his feet with lightning speed, moving like water. He spat out a wad of blood and there was blood dripping from a cut across his nose.

Cas! Dean yelped, fear for Cas breaking the hold Alastair had on him. Jesus, you okay?

Cas didn't answer. He summoned his angel blade and motioned Alastair forward. His stance was wide and he held the blade like a biker in a knife fight. The demon just laughed at him. "Look at you, can't even fight like a proper angel," Alastair crooned, trying to goad Cas into making the first (and wrong) move. When Cas didn't budge, Alastair grabbed a hanging incense holder and swung it like a mace at their face. Cas ducked back, and Alastair took the second of distraction. He grabbed Cas and headbutt him hard enough that Cas collapsed, dazed. Dean's teeth vibrated with the hit; he knew that he would have died in a one-hit K.O if Cas hadn't been strengthening their body.

The demon was in front of them and punching Cas hard enough to break bone. As he landed punch after punch Cas swayed on his knees, eyes bleary. Cas, wake up Cas!

Alastair grabbed the dropped angel blade and held it high over them, smiling. Cas! Get up, man, come on!

"You can't have the Righteous Man, I won't allow it," Cas whispered.

"Oh, that's fine. I wasn't going to ask. I'm just going to take him."

An explosion of blood, flesh, and white marble flung them backward as Alastair dropped to his knees.

Way to go, Sammy! Dean crowed. He caught sight of his brother, shielding Anna at the top of the landing to the stairs. Both his hands were outstretched as he ripped the several hundred-pound marble statue from its pedestal and telekinetically smashed it over the demon's head. A trickle of blood dripped from Sam's nose from the effort and she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

"GO!" Cas commanded, and Sam and Anna fled down the wooden stairs. Their footsteps echoed loudly until they were gone completely.

The demon shook his head a little and laughed. He touched the back of his head, and his hand was covered in bright red blood and bits of bone. "That wasn't nice," he sputtered, blood coming from his mouth. "I'll have to take it out of your precious brother's hide when I find him and the girl."

Dean had been a terrified witness to the demon in front of him. He'd been trying to keep his mind clear, trying not to distract Cas during the fight with his bloody flashbacks. If he were driving them, they'd have run a long time ago. But now, the fear that had been coursing through him suddenly caught fire like napalm. He just threatened Sam.

Somehow, Dean shoved Cas out of the driver's seat and stormed up to the stunned demon, manifesting the angel blade in his hand. "You will not touch him!" Dean snarled, shoving the point down into Alastair's chest as hard as possible. Despite being brained by a marble statue, the demon was able to grab Dean's wrist and stop the blade from actually stabbing him.

"There's that spitfire personality I remember," he purred.

Dean could literally see the demonic influence, the barbed wire tendrils borrowing in and out of his flesh, running up the arm holding him. They were going to burrow into him next-

He jerked backward and slashed at the demon's neck with the blade. Despite pouring blood from the slash, an instantly fatal wound to any other being, Alastair still got up and started in towards Dean. Wide-eyed, Dean stumbled backward. Cas, Cas, shit, what do I do?

We are going to rid this world of him once and for all, Cas promised as he gently took back over. Once again standing in front of the window, the wings were summoned forth, except Alastair looked like a walking hamburger as he laughed at the wings spread to their full, impressive size.

"What's a broken little bird like you going to do to me?"

Dean could feel energy crackled down the tips of the broken feather and along with the fractured, burnt bones until it gathered in their chest. The calm, sacred energy of the church was being converted as it traveled through them into something roiling and destructive. In a few seconds, Cas has the power running through them openly and his eyes glowed white-hot.

Dean, do you remember what Gabriel called me?

Dean has no idea how Cas sounded so calm. Unless something changed, Alastair was going to kill them. Uh...a Seraph or something, right?

Seraph means 'The Burning One.' I think it's time Alalsatir finds out what that truly means.

Dean was not a stranger to fire. He could still remember the heat over his skin as his house exploded and killed his mother. He could still remember the desperate cries of Sam as he hauled his brother from his dorm room, his girlfriend dead on the ceiling. Dean can remember the oily stench and heat of Hellfire as he was roasted in every sense of the word.

But Dean has never seen nor felt holy fire. Blue flames surrounded their whole body, and it poured from their eyes. It was pure and the fiercest thing Dean had ever felt in his life. Righteous fury, in every literal way possible. Heaven's Wrath was not blinding; it was enlightening and cleansing. How fire could be clean Dean had no idea but he could feel it as the fire washed over them.

Alastair's face barely had time to fall; he barely had time to realize he'd pushed too far before the flames shot out from Cas and engulfed the demon in a crashing wave of blue, liquid fire. He screamed, so long and loud that the stained glass mosaic behind them cracked with a thunderous roar. Dean rejoiced in that sound.

Twenty years, 7,300 days of unimaginable torture, and the nightmare was finally ending in front of him.

An eternity later, a second later, Dean didn't know which. All he knew was that the tank seemed to run dry, and the flames stopped. Cas dropped heavily to his knees, panting hard, head bowed, utterly exhausted from the effort of being the conduit for the divine energy. His shoulders pulled painfully as his wings hit the floor for a moment.

Where Alastair had been standing, there was nothing more than a bloody smear, a greasy scorch mark on the floorboard, and nothing else.

Cas...you okay? Dean was just as stunned, left just as empty. He wanted to reach out and touch Cas right then, but he didn't think the angel had the energy to create his usual form.

I'm alright, he whispered hoarsely. There was a time that wouldn't have been such a struggle. He spat bitterly.

You still just barbequed a demon into non-existence, dude. You're still a BAMF in my book.

Cas ducked his head and huffed. You pushed me aside and manifested my blade so you could try and stab him, Dean. That's just as impressive.

Tap tap. As Dean took back over, the wings lying on the floor around him faded away. He reached out and touched a feather and got the sense it was stronger than steel despite looking like glass. It was strangely soft under his fingertips as it faded away to wherever Cas kept them. Dean sat on his knees, completely numb.

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Dean was startled when Cas, on his knees in front of Dean, hugged him hard. "He's gone. He'll never hurt you or anyone else, Dean."

Dean couldn't help himself; tears of utter relief fell down his cheeks. "Thank you, Cas," he whispered, burying his face into Cas's stubbly neck. The scents of Cas, of ozone and old forest, mixed with fire, blood, and sulfur but Dean kept holding on and breathing deeply.

He'd been so scared of Cas throwing himself away so quickly, then of losing him in this fight. Dean crushed Cas to him into a tight embrace. After a moment, when he felt he could manage it, Dean pulled back and Cas used a thumb to wipe away the tears, gently running it over Dean's cheek.

He's wrong, you know, Dean said. At Cas's barely perceptible head tilt, Dean said. About what he called you. I mean, the sanctimonious part he kinda got right. But the other part, about you being an infection? He cupped Cas's head in his hands, looking into those hooded, tired eyes. You're not an infection, you're my best friend, Cas. We're gonna argue and piss each other off, but at the end of the day, we still have each other's back. Right?

Cas was worn out, bags under his eyes and a little pale. I am sorry, Dean, for everything you've had to give up for me.

I'm not, Dean said, patting the side of his face and grinning at him. Now, let's get this girl to Bobby's.

Cas nodded solemnly but said nothing as he stood and helped Dean to this feet. As he slowly made his way to the stairs, Dean turned to catch Cas in the middle of the room, peering around. He took in the destroyed room, the cracked stained-glass window, the groaning roof. Cas walked up to another wooden support beam and lay both hands on it. Immediately, flames shot from his hands and raced up the beam into the ceiling. Dean ducked down as he saw the flames spread hungrily across the ceiling just a few feet from his head.

"Cas, what the hell?!" He demanded, already able to smell the smoke and feel the heat on his face.

Cas returned to the middle of the attic and serenely watched the flames cross the ceiling. "This once holy place is now defiled," he intoned gravely, pointing towards the greasy scorch mark, the blood and broken marble scattered around it. Even Dean could tell the energy from before was missing.

"It must be razed and rebuilt." He locked his gaze with Dean and he could see the Angel of the Lord in Cas's eyes at that moment: ancient, unknowable, and cosmic in scope. Dean truly felt insignificant when he realized those eyes watching him and seen galaxies form and stars be born.

"Leave, Dean. I can at least do this much right."

Dean hesitated for just a moment, afraid he was going to lose Cas for real this time or he would be irrevocably changed after this fight. Cas's eyes bored right into his soul. "Go, Dean. Now!"

He ran. God help him. He tore down those old attic steps and through the main congregation area. Pews flew past as his boots thundered across the building. He ran from the demon remains and his memories of Hell. As he skidded to a stop in front of the doors, he felt like several layers had been shed. He was lighter when he threw open the doors and stumbled down the steps, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air.

The Impala was down the street, Sam and Anna waiting inside for him. He bounded across the road to the side of the car the top floor of the church exploded. Blue flames shot out from the open windows as the ornate mosaic window blew out and shattered to the ground.

"No!" Anna screamed, reaching for the door. "No, no, not my church…."

Sam reached into the back to grab her shoulder and keep her from bolting out of the car. "What happened?" she demanded, tears falling down her cheeks.

Dean took his place behind the wheel and watched the baby blue church as it caught fire, the flames now orange instead of that intense, blue-white flame from earlier. Black smoke billowed from the burning building, and Dean could hear the familiar sound of high-pitched sirens of firetrucks on the way. He threw the car into drive and burned rubber hauling ass away from the church.

Cas? The grace was still in him, but it was motionless in a somber way.

It had to be done, was all he said.

Dean grimaced in the rearview mirror as Anna stared at him furiously. "Sorry, Anna. Had to nuke it from orbit. Was the only way to be sure we got him. For what it's worth, Cas says he's sorry."

Anna sat back in the seat, hands crossed and running up and down her arms. "Thanks, Ripley," she said honestly as he watched him in the mirror. "Did you check the trunk for stowaways?"

Dean couldn't help himself. He grinned widely at that. "Church Girl knows Aliens?"

Sam, noticing her movements, shucked his jacket and handed it over the seat so she could use it as a blanket. He watched the conversation with his brow furrowed in confusion, which killed Dean a little inside because that movie was a classic. How did his baby brother get away without having seen it?

Anna narrowed her eyes at Dean. "Church Girl knows a lot of things," she said simply. "A good movie is a good movie. Especially when you have to watch it in the dead of night because you don't want your parents to catch you." She smiled softly at the memory, sniffled for a moment but wiped away her tears.

Dean wasn't religious, but having lost both parents and her only home for something she had no control over-he felt that and sympathized with her.

"So, where are we going?" She asked carefully.

"Somewhere safe," Sam said in his soothing, professional, good-guy voice. "A family friend's place that supernatural entities can't touch. It's a bit of a drive, though, so you might as well get comfortable."

Anna settled behind Sam, leaning up against the window so she could watch her hometown fly by their windows. Neither brother said anything about the silent tears she let fall or the hiccup of a tiny sob she couldn't keep down once in a while. Sam handed her a pack of travel tissues from the glovebox but that was all.

Once the smoke could no longer be seen in his rearview mirror, Dean could feel Cas mulling things over. What's up?

I can't explain why, but Anna seems strangely familiar.

Dean glanced back at her. Maybe you ran into an ancestor of hers while you were on Earth, and the family resemblance is tripping you up?

I suppose that could be it, Cas said. Still, the grace seemed a little antsy.

Cas, you're not planning on doing anything else stupid, are you? He tried to phrase it as a joke but it hit a little too hard for both of them.

If I am, you'll be the first to know.

The snark felt like a truce, though—an attempt to return to their normal. Dean relaxed into the driver's seat, watching a line of cop cars and firetrucks pass them on the two-lane road heading in the opposite direction. We should do a movie night at Bobby's, Dean mused. You've got a lot of pop culture to catch up on.

Would Sam and Anna be there, too?

I guess? I mean, Sam says my movie choices suck, but it seems like Anna's got good taste-maybe we can gang up on him.

Cas said nothing, and Dean went back to watching the road, making a mental list of movies to show the angel. Periodically, he glanced back at the redhead in his backseat and smiled to himself. Maybe this escort mission won't suck so bad.

AN: So, what did yo'all think of this week's adventures? Please feel free to leave comments and kudos. They help keep the Impala's tank full!

Also, if you haven't already, you should subscribe to this story for updates when I put chapters out (the subscribe button is at the top).

So, I will hopefully see you on Oct 11, if not before! Thank you lovely readers :)