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Chapter 14

Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the two figures standing like brick walls waiting for him as he pulled the hunter's Road Runner into the same spot he had borrowed it from. He braced himself and opened the car door, making sure not to slam it, before making his way over to them.

"You're up early," he replied trying to make light like a teenager caught coming home after curfew. Neither of the men smiled, both sets of eyes were stern and locked on the elder Winchester.

"Same could be said about you," Bobby retorted arms still crossed. "You normally take people's cars out at the buttcrack'a dawn?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that Bobby. I woulda taken Baby but, you know, she's sorta out of commission and I uh, I really wanted a donut."

"Really?" He asked in a tone that told the older brother it wasn't a question of whether or not what he said was true, but a question of rather the younger man really thought he was buying what he said. Dean looked from the hunter to his brother.

"Yeah. Early morning cravings I guess." The older man held out his hand and Dean placed the car keys in it. Without another word, the hunter marched over to the Road Runner, popped the hood, and looked inside.

"Did you need to dig yer way into the shop?" Dean opened and closed his mouth at a loss of words. Bobby slammed the hood down and rejoined the brother's on the porch. "You wanna try that again. Without lyin' through yer ass this time?"

The elder brother licked his lips but kept a neutral expression on his face.

"Not particularly."

"Well then, stop me if I'm wrong. You snuck off with not only my car, but some very specific items." Dean's eyes didn't move away from the elder man, but he could feel another pair of eyes on him watching his reaction. The hunter went on. "You used my stolen car to find yerself a crossroads, used my stolen shovel to bury the stolen box with the stolen items needed, and you summoned yerself a demon." Bobby ended his incredibly accurate accusation as a means to allow Dean to confirm, deny, or fill in the blanks.

"Technically I borrowed," the young man corrected. "I brought you back your car didn't I? Not a scratch on that thing. And your shovel."

"What were you doing with a demon, Dean?" For the first time since the older brother returned to the house, Sam spoke. His voice was calm but Dean knew only too well that it wasn't calm with patience.

"Nothing ok. Look, I still have my soul and no one's coming to collect." He explained sternly only briefly meeting his sibling's hazel eyes. "If you two are gonna grill me can you at least do it inside? I'm freezing my ass off out here and could I use a cup of caffeine...or a pot." Dean turned to disappear into the house, but he was grabbed tightly by the arm and stopped. He gave his brother a scowl. "Dude, what the hell?"

"You really think you can just go out, make a deal with a demon, and then come back acting like everything is fine?" He questioned not letting up his hold on his older sibling.

"Bite me," Dean responded trying to shake his arm free, resulting in Sam tightening his grip.

"I'm only going to ask you this one more time, what were you doing with a demon, Dean?"

With nowhere to go and no way to get out of his brother's lockdown on both his arm and on him in general, the elder Winchester rolled his eyes and sighed. "I just wanted answers."

"What kind of answers?"

"What kind do you think?"

"You wanted to find out who sprung you from Hell." Sam caught on.

Dean nodded. "I figured who better to know who stamped return to sender from Hell, than a demon?"

"And?" Bobby chimed in. Dean didn't answer right away and judging by the way his brother said his name, his face must have been easy to read.

"Yeah."

When that was all he said the hunter spoke up again. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, you're not going anywhere until you do," Sam informed. "So if you're that cold, you might wanna start talking."

"Since when do you care what I do?" Dean's tone packed heat.

"I know what you're doing," Sam respond. His own tone reminded Dean of when their mom's limits were reaching their end. "It's not going to work. Not this time."

When the eldest spoke, he faced the hunter. "A demon did. Crowley, he said his name was Crowley."

"Did this, Crowley, give a reason why?"

Dean swallowed, looked towards the street, then looked back at Bobby with a stoic expression. "To make a choice."

"A choice?"

"Son I can use pliers on ya, but I'd really rather you just come out about it on yer own."

Dean bit his lower lip trying to steadying his words. "Save the world...or save Sam." The elder Winchester felt the grip on his arm loosen.

"What did he mean by that?" Sam questioned.

"I have no idea," Dean admitted.

"Did he say what from or clarify?" Bobby asked.

"No, but he tried to get under my skin with talk about Sam's demon blood. I told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, and then he left." At the mention of demon blood, Sam let go of his brother completely.

"That's it?" Bobby gave Dean a suspicious look.

"That's it." Dean didn't turn to look as he made his way inside and headed straight to the kitchen. He pulled a clean mug from the strainer, grabbed the coffee pot handle, then stopped. He removed his hand returned the mug, and instead went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

For all the smugness the demon Crowley held, and even though nothing about him screamed trustworthy, Dean also hadn't got the vibe that he was lying either. The eldest Winchester may have shared what the demon said about demon blood, but he wasn't about to share the part where Crowley claimed Sam doesn't live either choice he made. No sense in scaring him when Dean wasn't about to let the demon be right about at least that.

"You ok?" The sudden sound of another person's voice startled the young man. He opened his eyes and found his brother staring at him with his own eyes mimicking a disciplined puppy marvelously.

"I'm fine," Dean answered as he took a sip of his El Sol.

"Right," the younger man scoffed. "Because people who are 'fine' help themselves to a beer at five in the morning."

"Well, this fine guy does," Dean gave a mock grin.

"Since when?"

"Since when do-"

"Enough, Dean. Look, I'm...I'm sorry. Ok? I'm sorry for what I said back there and all those other times. I'm sorry that I fought with Dad and I told him to go to Hell and that I didn't invite you to my wedding and for saying I wanted you out of my life. In the hospital after the accident before you were possessed I-I realized how sorry I was. For everything. Including Dad. And I realized I never got to make amends or tell Dad how..." The younger man paused as his eyes began to water. "How really truly sorry I am and that I love him. And then with you in a coma, I was afraid I was going to lose you too and I wouldn't get the chance to tell you the same. And then that night in the cemetery..." He paused trying to keep himself together. "I watched you die, Dean. I watched you pull the trigger and I watched your body collapse to the ground. I buried your corpse. And mom's."

"About that night," Dean said uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. For everything. Especially for Mom."

"Dean, what happened to Mom, that wasn't you."

Dean shook his head. "Except it was. It was my fingers that snapped her neck. Her blood is on my hands. This guilt...it'll never wash off." He gave a half hearted shrug. "And I'll never forgive myself for it."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn't kill Mom. Sooner or later, you've gotta accept that. I mean, Mom wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over it. She knew it wasn't you."

The elder Winchester took a large chug of his beer, and then fell silent. His eyes settled on a spot on the floor. Sam sighed heavily.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but if you change your mind, I'm here ok? You're not alone Dean." The older brother didn't say anything, just continued to stare down at the floor. The younger added "and no more being a martyr." When there was still no response he tried again. "Dean?" Finally the elder Winchester looked up at his sibling, though immediately wished he hadn't. Sam was never one to mask his emotions and his eyes were the sole provider of them. "Promise me? Please?"

"I'll do what I can," was his response before he took another long drink. Sam sadly shook his head knowing that that was the best answer he was going to get for now.

"So, do you really believe him? The demon, Crowley, I mean?" His voice was small and Dean didn't miss the hint of fear in it.

"I believe we need our winged friend to fill us in," the older brother said neither confirming nor denying.

"Any ideas on how to get him over here?"

"Bobby maybe," Dean shrugged. "The man's got a plethora of books, one of them has to have something about the damn harp players."

"First of all, plethora? Since when do you use words like that?" The younger man asked amused with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean? I know words. What, you think because I didn't go to college I don't know what plethora means?"

"I just...I've never heard you say it. Besides let's be realistic, the only letters you were concerned with were bra cups."

The elder Winchester opened his mouth to protest but upon thinking about what was said, he gave a small nod.

"Fair enough."

"Secondly," Sam went on "I doubt Bobby has any books on angels. I mean he wasn't exactly a believer until Castiel either."

"So, what then? Wait around until he decides to show up?"

"Or " he offered. "Maybe we can pray? I mean, he is an angel after all."

"Trust me, praying doesn't do shit," the older brother replied. Upon seeing the quizzical look on Sam's face and not wanting to give any further explanation, he quickly added "I bet."

"It's worth a shot, right? I mean, it can't hurt."

Dean waved a hand palm up in front of him. "Be my guest."

"You do it."

"What? Oh no no. In case you forgot, I'm not that kinda guy. That's all you prayer boy."

The younger Winchester shook his head. "I've seen the way he looks at me and talks about me. He doesn't like me Dean."

"I get the feeling he doesn't like anyone really."

"He seems to at least tolerate you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just calling it like I see it." Though he would have liked to argue, his brother had a point. The fact that he repeatedly advised against letting Sam out and talked about him being dangerous was plain proof the celestial being didn't particularly trust his little brother and likely wouldn't even bat an eyelash if he called for him.

"I'm not doing the whole holding my hands and kneeling crap," he said shortly.

"I don't think you have to." Dean threw his brother a disapproving look but cleared his throat, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.

"Castiel. It's me, Dean Winchester. You got your ears on?" The older man didn't have to open his eyes to know that it was now the other brother's turn to give a disapproving look. "We've got questions and we're pretty sure you've got answers. So...Yeah. Get your feathered ass down here and help us out...amen?"

He cracked open his eyes and raised his head where he was greeted, as expected, by a deep frown and a head shake.

"Nice," Sam huffed. Before Dean could defend himself, an unfamiliar voice sounded from the doorway that led from the study/living room to the kitchen. Both men spun around to face the newcomer. A man shorter than both brothers and heavier as well was smiling at them.

"At last," he chimed. Suddenly it wasn't the crocodile smile that made the two uneasy, but the look in his eyes that resembled that of a shark who had just picked up scent of his next meal.

"You aren't Castiel," Dean remarked.

"Observant," the stranger retorted.

"Who the hell are you?"

"The name's Zechariah and I'm here to answer your prayer, Dean Winchester."

A/n: Thank you for reading, see you next Wednesday!