(6/6/2017) This American Life talked about obesity being endemic in Sioux Falls which, honestly, tickled my Supernatural fangirl funnybone.

Also, apologies for not replying to reviews. It was one of those weeks.

Thank you Authoressinhiding (especially for the addition to chapter 36), IoSolUno, RHatch89, philly cheese dude,missmeow1968, Sage of Wind Dragons, thatwritersdream, jkmp28, and thedarkpokemaster for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get pineapple cake!


Undeterminable Day


Hell.

He didn't belong here. Not because he'd been a saint, but because of what he was now physically: a vampire. A "live" vampire, one that hadn't been dusted at the end of a wooden stake.

Vampires went… somewhere else. That's all that they would tell him. But since he was here, they were going to make him suffer for the wrongs he'd committed on Earth.

He thought that he'd been a maliciously creative torturer, but the demons had had centuries more to perfect their methodology. Not only that, but this was their realm, their place of power, and anything they could devise could be implemented. They could dredge up visions of each and every one of his victims so that they could exact their revenge. They could break all the bones in his body without lifting a finger. They could blind him and deafen him and leave him suspended with nothing but his guilt-ridden thoughts for days on end.

They could bring Buffy into being and do things to her. Things that made him scream. Then they would kill her. Slowly. Over and over and over.

At what he supposed was the last hour he was always thrown unceremoniously into a small, dark cell. He felt neither hunger nor thirst, but exhaustion was ever present. Most of the time he slumped over and let oblivion take him, and in the morning he would once again be whole. This time, however, he thought he recognized the moans drifting in through a minute crack in the stone wall.

He shuffled as close as he could to the opening and listened. Yes. That voice he knew. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. What were the odds? Perhaps they could plan with each other to escape. Perhaps they could kindle hope within one another. At the very least, he could at least relish in the comfort of a familiar voice. The vampire pressed his lips as close as he could to the crack and prayed the man would be able to hear him.

"Dean," he whispered. "It's Angel."


October 2007


After their initial shock, Sam and Dean lifted up opposite ends of the vampire that had, quite literally, appeared out of nowhere. The only reliably lightless room in Bobby's home was the basement area near his new panic room. With as much care as possible, the brothers hauled Angel down the stairs while Buffy appropriated a mattress from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Once the vampire was lying down, Dean pushed his sister upstairs and told her, in no uncertain terms, not to look. Too astounded to object, Buffy waited impatiently at the top steps while the three men divested Angel of his rags, checked for wounds (of which there were blessedly none), and tucked him under a blanket. Dean then told his sister it was okay to join them.

"I do know what he looks like naked, you know," Buffy said scathingly, irked by her brother's overprotectiveness.

Dean stuttered some half-formed words before finally muttering, "I need brain bleach."

"So," Sam said, "now what?"

"Got me," shrugged Bobby.

"We watch him in shifts," Dean instructed, "just in case. I got first."

"I'll take second," volunteered his brother.

"Third," Bobby said.

"There is no fourth shift, is there?" an annoyed Buffy wondered, her arms folded.

"Buffy," Sam said softly, "if he's Angelus the first thing he's probably going to do is go after you."

"But—"

"Little lady," Bobby sighed, "give over. Your brothers are gonna worry themselves sick if they don't make sure Angel's on our side."

Buffy's brothers cringed in preparation of a minor explosion when they saw the set of her jaw. Miraculously, the girl acquiesced. "Fine. I'll be on the couch." She then stomped up the stairs to perform her normal nightly routine, albeit with a lot more unnecessary noise.

Dean departed the area for the panic room and came back stake in hand. He assured Sam and Bobby that he'd be fine and sat down on the floor across from Angel.

"They're gone?" the supposedly comatose vampire murmured after the others had climbed the stairs.

"Yup," Dean replied. "You know, it's kinda hard to get a pulse from a dude that's technically dead." He sighed. "So. How'd it happen?"

"You first."

The hunter gave a wry chuckle. "An angel pulled me out."

Angel pushed himself up and turned to look at Dean. "An actual… um, angel?" the vampire asked, stumbling over the name of the being that shared his cognomen.

"Apparently. Kind of a douche if you ask me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Dean grumbled, exasperated by the situation. "Apparently there's some big job I'm supposed to do but, hey, guess what, they're not telling me what it is."

The vampire lay back down, his face turned away. Dean closed his own eyes, dread twisting his gut. "Hey, look—"

"Dean," Angel cut in tiredly. "Later."

The hunter sighed. "All right."

Vampires didn't need oxygen, but, according to the one in front of him, their brains couldn't let go of the reflex. Since Angel's non-breathing movements had become slow and steady, it seemed safe to assume he was asleep. Dean tried to think of something else, anything else, other than what had happened in Hell between him and the creature before him and failed. Fortunately, a distraction arrived of its own accord.

Dean jumped when he heard what sounded like large, feathered wings. He became even more perturbed when he saw the source.

Castiel stood casually against one of Bobby's shelves, arms folded. As Dean approached, the angel quietly said, "Excellent job with the witnesses."

"You were hip to all this?"

"I was made aware."

"And what about that?" Dean hissed as he gestured backwards towards the vampire.

"Yes."

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest!"

In the face of Dean's rage, Castiel was nonchalant. "But you didn't."

The pair argued a few minutes more about the existence of God and, according to Dean, His apathy regarding the suffering on Earth. In the midst of Dean's diatribe, Castiel revealed that his vocation was more militaristic than protective, and that the reason he and his brethren walked among them was to block Lilith's ultimate ambition.

"The Rising of the Witnesses is one of the 66 Seals," the angel clarified. "She performed the spell. Twenty other hunters are dead."

"Of course," Dean said miserably. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." The hunter wiped a hand down his face. "Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

"It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"What does that mean?"

The angel grimaced. "Think of the seals as locks on a door."

"Okay. The last one opens, and…?"

"Lucifer walks free."

Dean made a sound of disbelief. The angel cocked his head curiously at him. "Why else do you think we are here?"

"Well, bang up job so far," the hunter snarled. "Stellar job with the witnesses. That's nice."

Ominously, Castiel pushed off of the rack and stepped into Dean's personal space. "We tried. There were two seals broken today. We lost both battles to prevent that from happening. Our numbers are not unlimited. Eight of my brothers and sisters died today."

"Two?" Dean repeated as he tried his best not to back away from the angel.

"It was foretold that a beast must rise from Hell." Castiel looked pointedly at the vampire. "There was only one residing there at the time."

That brought up more questions for Dean, the first and foremost being where monsters were supposed to go. He shelved his curiosity in the face of larger concerns. "I thought demons weren't powerful enough to pull something like that."

"One demon? No. A hundred, a thousand demons forced to sacrifice themselves for Lilith's whim?"

"So we might be seeing more of what happened today? What the fuck, man?" Dean managed to keep his voice down to a hoarse whisper despite his growing rage. "You told me there's some big job for me to do. Can't help thinkin' it's real hard to do that if I'm dead!"

"You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here." The angel took another step forward. At the wrath in his eyes, Dean finally made step back. He cursed himself for pushing this creature so far when he had no clue how capricious or how powerful it was. "You should show me some respect," Castiel growled. "I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in." With another fluttering of great wings Castiel was gone.

"Wow," Buffy remarked quietly from her perch midway up the stairs. "He's kind of a dick."

Dean stifled a curse at the intrusion. He peered through the dark at his sister. "Ain't you supposed to be sleeping?"

She shrugged. "I guess." Her gaze drifted to Angel. "Is… Is he going to be okay?"

"Eventually."

"Good. That's good." Buffy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dean, I want to go home."

Her brother's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course. We driving?"

"If you don't mind. And… And we need to take Angel with us."

Buffy prepared for the inevitable recriminations regarding her vampiric boyfriend. Surprisingly, her brother said, "All right. But that means we're just driving at night. Might take a lot longer to get to Sunnydale."

"I'm okay with that." She hugged her knees. "Dean, do you think mom will forgive me?"

Dean sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as he said, "Buffy, if dad wanted to make up with Sam then I think you and your mom will be fine."

"If you say so." Buffy yawned. "I'm going to head back to bed." She gave her brother a hug then kissed him fondly on the top of his head. "I'm happy you're back, Dean. I missed you."

He smiled back at her. Once she'd disappeared up the stairs he went back his vigil, desperately wishing there was something he could do to make the vampire go away.


Undeterminable Day


"Beer," Dean offered.

"Green," added Angel. "Just… anything growing and green."

It was their end-of-day routine. Each one of them would think of things they missed, as much as they could that would remind them that there was something to look forward to if they could figure out how to escape. The only time they skipped their sessions was if one or the other of them had suffered something that prevented speech. A particular sequence of small taps on the wall signaled when that had happened.

"Zeppelin," Dean said.

"Sinatra," Angel countered.

"Seriously?"

"Met him once. Nice guy."

"Man, closest I ever got to a celebrity was… well, I don't think I've ever gotten close to a celebrity. Betcha there's a few down the hall."

The two shared a quiet chuckle. In the silence that followed the sounds of their fellow damned floated into their cells, dispelling their camaraderie in a miasma of despair. Dean drew in a shuddering breath. "How long has it been?"

"Don't do that," Angel warned. "Don't head that way."

Dean blinked back his tears. "Yeah."


October 2007


Awash in memories, Dean couldn't sleep. He forewent waking either Sam or Bobby for their shifts watching over Angel and kept his vigil all night. In the morning, both men were annoyed at Dean's decision, but lay their irritation aside when he told them of Castiel's visit.

They decided to gather in the panic room along with Angel who, due to the sunlight, listened in from the doorway. He was dressed in Dean's clothes, the vampire being relatively close in size, and although Buffy inwardly thought the sight of him in her brother's jeans and plaid button-up was hilarious she managed to hold in her mirth. Barely.

"Lucifer," Sam uttered after Dean was done. "He's real."

"Pitchfork and horns and all?" asked Buffy.

"Dunno," Dean said with a shrug.

"These seals," Angel said quietly. "What are they?"

Bobby nodded. "Be helluva lot easier to stop Lilith if we knew what we were supposed to be stopping."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, well, Douchebag the Angel wasn't exactly talkative after I pissed him off."

"If we undid what was done," Angel asked, "would the seal be remade?"

"You can't —" Buffy gasped, realizing what the vampire was proposing: to undo the seal broken by his ascent from Hell by going back.

Her eldest brother cut her off. "We sent the ghosts back, but the seal was still broken. Sounds like once shit's done then it's done."

"So now what?" Bobby groused.

Buffy and Dean glanced at one another. "We're headin' back to Sunnydale," said the hunter.

Sam's eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

"You're comin' with," Dean told Angel.

"We are not carting a vampire across the damn country," Sam snarled.

"I can make my own way," Angel offered.

The subsequent argument went nowhere. While they expressed it dissimilarly, Sam and Angel were on the same side; both of them wanted the vampire to figure out his own method of transportation. Buffy disagreed on principle, but they were all a little surprised that Dean was so defensive of the monster. Bobby had no opinion other than the desire to throttle the lot of them for the constant bickering.

In the end Buffy drew Sam aside and gave him an ultimatum: either he give in or she'd spill his secret. He capitulated furiously, stomped up the stairs, and was out of the house before anyone could object.

It was barely noon at this point which meant they had several hours to wait before it was safe for Angel to be in a car. Dean took the opportunity to fall into the sofa and catch up on lost sleep.

After edging around the sunlight and the devil's trap, Angel took up one of Bobby's tomes on celestial beings and sat at the panic room's desk to read. He was surprised when a shadow fell across the pages. "Buffy," he said cautiously. "Where's Bobby?"

"Went looking for Sam." The young girl twisted her fingers nervously. "Angel? Are… Are you okay?"

"Yes." The vampire looked at her, puzzled. "Of course."

"But… But you were in Hell… and-and-and you were there because of me." Her eyes filled with tears. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Angel stood up but hesitantly stayed at arm's length. "Buffy. It wasn't your fault."

"It was. Don't lie!" she cried.

The vampire reached out and took her hands in his. "I went there because of me, no one else. I remember what happened. I remember that… that I killed people. That I killed Jenny Calendar."

"It only happened because I—"

"Because we decided to do something," Angel said firmly. "Something that two people who love one another often end up doing. Buffy," he said as he brought her hands up and kissed them softly. "I love you. I always will. And even if it never happens again, I will never forget being with you."

Buffy fell into his arms and held him tight, her tears flowing freely. Angel reciprocated, her scent filling his nose, the feel of her pressed against him a wonder that he had feared he would never experience again. She leaned back and tipped her head up, lips parted slightly for a kiss. The vampire obliged, relishing in warmth of her, wishing that it would never end.

They held one another, Angel leaning against the desk and Buffy against him, just for the pleasure of being close. Finally, in a small voice, Buffy asked, "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Hell."

Angel frowned. "Dean didn't say anything?"

"He said he doesn't remember."

The vampire suspected Buffy's brother had lied to her, but if Dean wanted to keep secrets then he had no right to pry. Angel knew what Dean had gone through and what he had done. If the man had decided to plead ignorance and move forward then perhaps it was for the best.


Undeterminable Day


"I can't do it anymore."

Dean had been saying that a lot more lately. He'd told Angel that at the end of the day the white-eyed demon would offer reprieve if Dean would pick up the knife and do unto others what had been done to him. Every day the man would say no.

At first Dean had boasted that his refusals had taken the form of defiant gestures and profanities that were sometimes literally spat in the face of the demon. Lately, however, Dean said he could barely drudge out the will form a simple denial.

Buffy's brother was breaking.

"You can," Angel urged. He was never given the same offer; apparently they just intended to make him suffer for eternity. "One more day. You can do one more day."

"You know what they did?" Dean whispered hoarsely. "They brought in Sam. He had black eyes. Then they brought in Buffy. And Sam… Sam… He… Oh God…"

The silence that followed was deafening. Angel already knew what sort of monstrous things they did to that visage of Buffy, but to make one brother watch another brother perform the acts was another level of depravity altogether. But there was one thing that kept him sane, and he had to remind Dean of that simple fact. "It wasn't them. Remember: it's never really them."

Dean's voice was thick and muffled. The vampire figured, at times like these, Buffy's brother had his head buried in his arms. "But what if it is? What if they're down here with us? What if Sam is really doing those things to her?"

This was a new sentiment. This was an alarming sentiment. For all the days, months, years they'd been down here, Dean had been amenable to the idea that his brother and sister were still up above leading what constituted (for them) a normal life; that no matter how many illusions of his family appeared none of them were tied to reality. The fact that Dean now doubted Hell's lack of veracity was deeply troubling.

"No, he's not," Angel said firmly. "She's not. You need to hold on, Dean. Just a little longer. One more day."

"Yeah, okay," the man whispered despondently. "One more. I can do one more."


October 2007


Bobby found Sam sitting between two cars with his elbows on his knees and a petulant look on his face. After making sure the man was all right, the elder hunter chastised him for his lack of pity ("That there vampire just got out of Hell, Sam") and warned him to make things up with his sister sooner rather than later; the aberrant tension between the two siblings hadn't escaped Bobby's notice. He reminded the boy about how long things had festered between him and John and insinuated that Sam was on the verge of creating another irreparable rift.

Chagrined, Sam warily apologized to Buffy when he finally returned to the house. She took his words in with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her brother knew that fixing the breach between them would involve revealing what he'd been doing. Just as Buffy had been worried what her mother would think of her being Called, Sam worried what anyone would think of his illicit activities. If Joyce's reaction was anything to go by, it was best to keep it to himself for now.

The drive to Sunnydale was made long by the varying difficulties between the Impala's inhabitants. Sam was still far from being able to trust the vampire, but as a reconciliatory gesture he persuaded Dean to let Buffy sit with Angel in the back. She warmed to him slightly after that, but their bond was far from mended.

Buffy's issues, other than those shared with Sam, stemmed from having no idea how to proceed with Angel. They still loved each other, true, but the ubiquitous problem of their relationship remained: she was human, he was a vampire. Combined with the knowledge of the horrors their desires could lead to, Buffy had a conundrum that made her heart hurt to think about. For now, though, she focused on a more immediate concern: whether or not her mother would actually welcome her back into the house.

Angel tried not to let it show, but as happy as he was to have Buffy in his arms again he was wretched with the thought of what his freedom had cost. He had been resigned to Hell, that being there was a just punishment for the atrocities he'd committed. If he had known that his resurrection was part and parcel of Lilith's plan to inflict Lucifer upon the Earth, Angel would have gripped tight to those blood-soaked cell walls. He was becoming more and more certain that he was undeserving of the scant amount of joy he'd been granted.

Dean's thoughts ran parallel to Angel's, except his guilt stemmed to what had become of him in Hell, not what had put him there. The fact that a reminder of his deeds sat behind him for hours cuddling with his baby sister was nearly unbearable. But however crippling his inner turmoil, it lay secondary to his confusion. What had happened to Sam and Buffy while he'd been gone? Buffy had already spilled her story over what she'd been forced to do to stop Acathla, but why had she left the comfort of home and friends? And what was Sam doing on the sly that had Buffy so suspicious? Why had Sam not taken better care of their sister?

Despite their anxieties, the trip went smoothly. They would begin driving as soon as the sun set. Around 4:30am they'd look for the nearest motel. Sam or Dean would book one room with two beds; Angel in one, Dean in the other, Buffy and Sam making do with either the couch (if there was one) or the floor. The day would pass either sleeping or watching television (or in Sam's case sneaking away to engage in his illicit activities) until it was time to go.

Four days later they arrived in Sunnydale. As it was the small hours of the morning they made their first stop the mansion that Angel had appropriated pre-Hell. It was still, thankfully, uninhabited, and since Sam and Dean were leery of the welcome they would get at Buffy's house the vampire offered them the spare bedrooms. One still had a collection of disturbingly gagged porcelain dolls that the brothers gleefully chucked over the garden walls.

When the sun rose, the siblings drove to Revello Drive.

While her brothers stayed on the sidewalk leaning against the Impala, Buffy shouldered her duffle bag and walked determinedly to the door. Her hand lifted in preparation to knock. Her foot, however, toed backwards just in case the door slammed in her face.

A haggard Joyce opened it almost immediately. Mother and daughter stared at one another, the former in shock and the latter in dread. Then Joyce lifted the bag from Buffy's shoulder and stepped back to allow her inside.

The woman looked up at the two men waiting anxiously by their car. She frowned.

Then she closed the door.

"Shit," Dean muttered.

"I don't blame her," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, me neither. Fucking dad and his secrets."

Sam sighed. "Now what?"

"Let's stick around for a couple of days just in case." Dean shrugged. "Things go south then Buffy's gonna need us."

"All right.

"Besides, who knows what kind of new shit will crop up now that Buffy's back on the Hellmouth?"


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester" (SPN 4.02).

Author's Note : I figured after Angel spent a century torturing himself after being cursed, forty years in Hell was probably like a vacation. Or maybe he's super into the M part of S&M. You never know.