Song Remains the Same

Chapter 137 / State of Grace

"Man is not what he thinks he is… he is what he hides."
— André Malraux

A Few Days Later
Round 'Em Up Roadhouse
Pacific Junction, Iowa

The Impala trundled up into the gravel parking lot of a derelict roadhouse bar. The local boys in blue had already roped the place off with yellow crime scene tape. Sam took quick visual inventory of the scene outside the cabin-style building: a handful of officers, a forensic photographer, a news truck, and a few curious locals clustered at the perimeter of the scene.

Dean parked and Sam straightened his suit jacket, clearing his throat and willing himself enough energy to do this. He felt tired sometimes without real explanation, just a wave of fatigue out of nowhere—today was one of those days. On the way here, he'd experienced another significant gap of memory. Dean said it was the trials aftereffects and insisted brusquely that it couldn't all last forever. Basically, he brushed off Sam's worries each time they came up. Sam just had to hope that these brain fog episodes were temporary. That his brother was right.

Speak of the devil: Dean's gruffly playful voice cut through his worries. "You ready, Agent Morrison?"

Sam put himself into performance mode and allowed a brief rueful grin at The Doors reference. "Sure thing, Agent Krieger."

The boys exited the car in near perfect sync and approached the entrance to the bar, flashing their fake badges in tandem at the officer standing at the door. He frowned curiously. "FBI really sent the whole crew out today on this one huh?" he asked, immediately alerting the Winchesters that something was up. "Your other two are inside already." He stepped aside, gesturing that they were free to enter.

Playing it cool the brothers moved past him, but once out of the cop's line of sight, Dean shot Sam a supremely questioning look. 'Other two?' he mouthed. Sam shrugged, but his nerves had increased. Real feds did sometimes pop up on cases… or it could be other hunters.

Inside, they found disarray. Signs of intense struggle were everywhere—busted glasses and bottles, broken furniture, destroyed windows—and there were numerous bright yellow plastic markers on the floor beside blood stains to indicate where the victims' bodies had been. Sam saw enough immediately to conclude that this hadn't been just a few murders… this had been an extermination. As Sam glanced around with a tense expression, he spotted the other two FBI agents a millisecond or two before Dean did: Alex and Cas, both in polished outfits that screamed 'feds.' They were speaking with the sheriff. Alex spotted her twin right as he spotted her. She nodded a thank you to the sheriff and wrapped up the conversation. Surprised, Sam tried not to show how much so.

"Ah, great," Dean muttered under his breath. "What're they doing here?" But he sounded more nervous than anything else, standing up a little taller like he was bracing himself.

Cas and Alex wore snappy suits, hers more tailored and fitted with hair swept back into a neat, low ponytail. Cas approached first, appearing glad to see them and even sticking his hand out to shake Sam's… probably for show. "Agents," he greeted coyly, leaning in covertly.

"…Agent," Sam returned in similar fashion, hiding an unexpectedly amused smile as best he could.

Alex arrived on Cas's heels. "So they'll let just anyone in here, huh?" she joked. Then her eyes slid to Dean and her expression changed, shifting into something harder to read. Pensive, maybe. It was the first time in two months the two had seen each other. "Dean."

For a tough guy, Dean sure did squirm under her gaze. "Alex," he greeted gruffly. Sam watched the brief dynamic passing between them: nervousness, aversion, wistfulness, sadness, hurt... all in the span of a few seconds. Dean nodded at Alex's husband. "Cas."

Cas reached out and shook his hand too, then put his other hand warmly onto Dean's during the brief action. "It's good to see you Dean."

Dean managed a wan smile and patted Cas's hands on his briefly… a silent 'let go, dude.'

"We figured you two might turn up since this is a local-ish one," Alex said.

Dean was getting over his temporary surprise at running into them. "Wait, so you two… are hunting?" he asked, then cracked a doubtful grin at Cas. "What happened to early retirement and working your way up the convenience store ladder?"

Alex's eyes darted over to the officers nearby and let her voice go a little lower. "Let's do the whole catching up thing later, can we guys?" She looked at Cas meaningfully, who seemed to realize that was his cue.

He had a few glossy photos printed out of the crime scene before the bodies had been removed. He handed them over to Sam. In the images, a lot of dead guys in leather getups dotted the bar, something like maybe twenty in total. "The biker gang that was here…" Cas said heavily. "They were all angels."

"And we're pretty sure we know who killed them," Alex added.

Cas gave a significant look. "Other angels."

Sam peered at the photos intently with a deeply furrowed brow, trying to understand. "…They're doing this to each other?"

"And it's personal." Alex tapped one of the more gory photos for emphasis. "Look at the excessive stab wounds."

"Yeah, definitely a lot of emotion involved." Sam exhaled softly and glanced around at the immediate area and all the body markers. "It definitely took more than one or two killers to pull this off." He looked at Dean significantly.

"Hit squad?" Dean theorized. "Bartholomew's people?"

Sam acknowledged it as a possibility, then paused. "Do you two know about Bartholomew?"

Cas's face showed confusion. "Well he was in my garrison…" he said tentatively. "And he fought with me against Raphael. I lost track of him after that."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Interesting info. Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Well your little friend's been consolidating power earthside—finding true vessels for the I've-fallen-to-earth-and-I-can't-get-up club." Cas's eyes crimped deeply in confusion. Dean sighed. "The angels, Cas, the angels."

That information seemed to daunt Castiel.

"Okay, so what's he doing with these 'true vessels'?" Alex asked in the brief pause of silence.

Dean met her businesslike eyes. "Getting ready to rumble." Alex processed apprehensively.

"So Bartholomew is a threat," Cas surmised grimly.

"Seems like most of them are, but yeah, he's definitely at the top of the list so far," Sam confirmed. "From what we can tell, all the fallen angels are kind of splitting off into factions to amass power."

There was a sad, resigned nod from Cas. "Well, they did that in Heaven too, so it wouldn't be too terribly shocking of a conclusion to derive from the circumstances."

"Wow, Sherlock," Dean jeered, getting two impatient looks from his siblings. "What? All those big words make my brain hurt."

Hovering between a helpless mix of exacerbated and slightly amused, Alex visibly made herself focus. "So how do we figure out which faction is behind this?"

Of all things, Cas sent her a somewhat flirtatious smirk. "A very good question indeed, Agent Wayne."

She took a beat and responded in kind. "Thank you, Agent Grayson."

Dean made a face as soon as he got the inside joke. "Whoa whoa whoa… Batman and Robin?" He gave a little chuckle. "Could you be more obvious?" Cas and especially Alex just grew more amused and proud of themselves. Dean rolled his eyes halfway before he glanced around then leaned in conspiratorially. "Listen, let's get all the info we can at this dump then grab a beer somewhere less…" he wrinkled his nose and gestured vaguely, "this." He paused and then threw in a passive aggressive jab aimed at his sister because apparently, he didn't know how to stop himself. "If that's okay with everyone's precious feelings, of course."

Alex gave him a cool look, a shallow shake of the head, and a sigh as she brushed past. "Yeah it's nice to see you too."

Later

After a little more time at the crime scene asking questions and observing the aftermath, the group of four reconvened in town at a place called DC's Watering Hole—a nondescript sports bar with an uninspired food menu but plenty of cheap beer to choose from. Outside, the sun went down.

Sitting around a wooden table not too far from the bar, Cas, Dean, and Alex were in mutual awkward silence until Sam set down everyone's drinks with a series of clunks. "All right, here we go," he said. "Three beers, one Sprite."

Dean cracked his brew open and sent his sister a curious frown. "Since when you too good for a Budweiser?" He got no answer except a sullen glance as she opened her Sprite with a satisfying fsst. Dean chuckled, but it was uncomfortable. "Easy tiger—if looks could kill."

The two of them hadn't spoken much since their unexpected reunion back at the roadhouse, and the tension was quite palpable. Maybe that's why Cas was so ready to fill the silence with a comment of his own. "You know, this is my first beer as a human," he announced, trying to open it to no avail. Dean reached over impatiently after Cas fumbled for a few seconds. He cracked it open for him on the table's edge then handed it back glibly. Cas sniffed the contents, made a face, then sipped at it hesitantly.

Alex had a little amused smile working the corners of her mouth. "Well…? Whatcha think?" she prompted as his face worked through a series of surprise, uncertainty, and consideration.

"The taste is a bit odd but…" he trailed off and sipped more. The definite beginning of a pleased smile grew. He sipped a little more, then became approving. "The more I drink, the more I like it." He paused, suddenly eyeing the bottle with slight worry. "…Will I get an overhang from this?"

Immediately, a confused smile hovered on Dean's face. Alex pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from laughing. And Sam's eyebrows sprung up in amused uncertainty. "…You mean… a hangover?" he asked in rising mirth.

"Only one way to find out," Dean encouraged, tipping his own beer up to his lips then pulling a deep frown as he finished. "But seriously, how haven't you had a beer yet? What've you two been doing?" He looked at his sister, who sidestepped with a prim shrug.

"Little of this, little of that."

Dean rolled his eyes insolently at her guardedness and took another huge sip. Cas was just finishing another huge gulp—maybe too big—because afterward, he let out a surprisingly loud belch. His eyes widened. "Oh—excuse me."

Everyone at the table was amused again. "A burping fallen angel," Dean commented through a chuckle. "Now I've seen it all." He paused with his beer in front of his lips. "Why you grinning like a chipmunk?" he asked Sam in brief suspicion.

"This is just… nice," Sam said, who was indeed smiling at the scene. He found it touching, even if it wasn't perfect. "Having everyone back together again."

Dean contemplated for a second before he decided to put aside his ego and be real for a moment. "Yeah. It is nice. It's good to see you two." He looked directly at his sister. It was clear how much it took from his pride to try and make peace. "Real good."

She turned vaguely hostile and made solid eye contact. "Is it?"

A very weary gusty sigh came from Dean. "Alex—"

She put him under the stern weight of her challenging stare. "We haven't had any problems with angels coming after us since you kicked us out, just in case you were, I dunno, worried."

Dean's jaw tensed as he deliberated on how to further respond. "I get that you're mad at me, I do, but you know I'm only doing this to protect everyone."

Alex chuckled mockingly. "Right, I feel real protected being told to leave the bunker and fend for myself out here."

As usual, Dean turned to cynicism. "Yeah you're a real wilting flower, aren't you? I thought you wanted to be independent or some crap, what happened to that?"

She ignored the insults. "What's your real reason for wanting us out?" Alex countered, leaning in with unrelenting, narrowed eyes.

Dean shrugged offhandedly, continuing his dodge. "Look Al, I'm not the bad guy here, but if you wanna act like I am... have at it." He drank more beer like he wasn't bothered.

"What are you hiding?" Alex pressed, increasingly pissed off by his gaslighting.

Dean became agitated. "Can you call off your attack dog, Cas buddy?"

Alex didn't allow a chance for anyone else to speak. "Answer the question Dean."

The oldest Winchester gave a humorless smile to Sam. "What were you just saying about having everyone back together again?"

Ever the placating voice of reason, Sam used his gentlest tone. "Let's just everyone take a step back," he appealed, saddened by his siblings interaction. He motioned to the photos they had on the table from the roadhouse. "How about we talk about the case, huh?"

Cas, who had been watching with melancholy, was the first to agree. "Yes, let's."

Grateful for the change of subject, Sam glanced rapidly between his testy siblings before plunging ahead and putting his focus on Castiel. "Okay great. So what angle you think Bartholomew's playing here, Cas?"

Cas hesitated, fingers on his half-empty beer as he contemplated the bottle. Everyone waited for his response. "Well, I've obviously been living a life outside of the social circles of the fallen angels but—" he shook his head, emotionally haggard. "I imagine he wants to reverse Metatron's spell and retake Heaven as his own." He glanced up with weary eyes. "It's always the same story, isn't it? Someone wanting control of that place for themselves." He sighed softly and looked at Alex. "At this point, I have to wonder if it'll ever end." Beside him, she put a silent hand on his back and gave him an understanding if somewhat sad smile. He smiled back in the same fashion.

"Well in any case, step one here is getting the real housewives of the pearly gates club back where they belong," Dean put in, enjoying his little joke.

"Yes, that's my mindset too, more or less," Cas said distractedly, picking up his beer again. "The question is, how do we find out whose specific handiwork this was?" He took another sip, seeming to enjoy it more and more.

Watchful and reserved, Alex mulled for a couple of beats. "The roadhouse didn't have any security feeds or eyewitness accounts, not that that would do any good anyway, but… this kind of seems like a dead end for now."

She was right, and the table passed a few beats in frustrated silence.

"What about you, Cas?" Dean asked after a minute, surprising everyone with the softer tone of voice he used. "Do you even want your wings back?"

Cas withdrew a bit more at the sudden question, glancing at Alex tellingly. Her glance back was tense and loaded… obviously, the two of them had talked about this a lot. "I don't know," the fallen angel replied heavily. He drained the rest of his beer and frowned when he realized it was empty. Dean raised his nearly-empty bottle at him in approval.

"All right," Sam said. "I'm gonna get us another round."

But before he could stand, Cas lit up at the chance to do something helpful. "I'll do it!" He gave a sheepish and hopeful smile as he stood. He patted Alex's shoulder and ruffled her hair affectionately before he headed to the bar, leaving a real smile on her face no matter how much she was trying to play it cool. Sam couldn't hide his taken aback amusement at that, or how sweet he thought it was.

"One beer, he's hammered," Dean commented fondly, then leaned forward and sought his sister's reluctant gaze. She was patting her hair back down. "Look. Enough with the third degree," he said with a sigh. "I miss you big-time, okay? You believe me?"

Alex contemplated him for a long couple seconds before she softened grudgingly. "I miss you too, that's not the issue." She leaned forward as well. "I'm fucking pissed, and that's not changing until you tell me what's going on. For real, Dean."

Dean overcompensated, scoffing and sitting back. "What would be going on?"

His glacial response tired her. Alex studied him carefully for a couple seconds more, her expression apprehensive, concerned, and hurt all at once. "Is this about Jamie? Are you trying to bring her back?"

He stiffened immediately at the mention of her name, then accusing, betrayed eyes went straight to Sam as he connected the threads. "Look I really don't appreciate you two talking behind my back," he said defensively, a slight glare resting in his eyes as he looked between the twins harshly. "I don't talk about her anymore—not to anyone. So do not go there with me, understand?"

Alex studied him in softly stung confusion. "Yeah I understand."

In an attempt to remove the spotlight off himself, Dean deflected. "You know, are you two really ready to jump back into all this, Al?" he asked. "I mean, I know you haven't been giving me the time of day so I got no clue where you're at, but Cas seems real happy with the little civilian life."

Alex folded her arms and sat back in her seat. Her temperature was now cool and detached. "We have several pretty good reasons for getting back out there. If I feel like sharing them with you at some point, I know your number."

Ouch. Sam's eyes widened and cut to Dean as his eyebrows shot up in silent commentary at her retort.

"Why you being like this?" Dean asked, his tone decidedly pissy. The ugly comment was visible on his face before he even said it: "And hey, FYI, might wanna get back to your routine. You look like you put on a few pounds." Both twins looked at him in perfect sync. Alex was vaguely amused and disgusted at his gall, Sam was just fully disgruntled. "What?" Dean demanded, rolling his eyes again. "Tough crowd."

Alex shook her head and got up, then went to the bar to where Cas was waiting on more beers. He looked at her as she approached with a soft smile and readily put an arm around her waist as they exchanged a few quick words. They were the picture of comfortable. There was a depth to the way their eyes regarded each other and how close they preferred to be.

Over at the table however, Sam fixed his brother with a disappointed expression. "Dean, that was really ru—" and then his eyes flashed whiteblue, he straightened, his face fell into an expressionless lull.

Realizing what was happening, Dean withered, cutting nervous eyes at Alex and Cas, who were only about twelve feet away in the noisy bar. "You really gonna do this right now, man?" he asked in a whisper shout.

Ezekiel used Sam's face, but everything was different: his posture, his delivery, his facial expressions. "Yes, I am," he confirmed intensely, sending a brief scathing glare at Cas's back. "He is a beacon, pulling every angel for miles down on our heads!"

Dean threw his hands wide. "Where?" he challenged. "Where are they, Zeke, huh? 'Cause no one's bothered Cas and Alex in two months." He leaned over the table shrewdly, speaking in an intense whisper. "Level with me. What is it you're so afraid of, huh?"

"I told you," Ezekiel insisted resentfully. "When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels."

Dean scoffed humorously. "Okay well, you know what? Cas isn't in good standing with any angel, but he's right here, ass on the line, fighting the fight. So what makes you so special and different?"

Ezekiel didn't get a chance to answer. Cas arrived with three amber bottles. "Here we go. Three, uh, 'brewskies.'"

Dean wet his lips and glanced between the two men—his nervousness was approaching sheer panic at this point. Glaring at Dean pointedly, Ezekiel stood up stiffly. "I am going to get something out of the car," he said moodily, then left behind a rattled Dean who had to act like nothing was wrong.

"Is Sam all right?" Cas asked, picking up on the tension.

Dean let out a shaken breath as he watched his brother's body disappear out of the bar exit. "Yeah, yeah, he's fine," he answered automatically, forcing an outward demeanor of business-as-usual. That's when he noticed who else was missing. "Where'd the old battle axe go?"

Cas frowned as if he'd misheard. "The what?"

Dean sighed mildly. "Your wife, man."

"Oh." Cas paused on the term for a moment then leaned closer. "She went to the restroom. I uh… I think she's avoiding you."

Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He grabbed a brew and clinked it to Cas's in a wry way. "Welp. I'll drink to that." And he did.

Cas picked up his beer, however was he still mentally stuck on something. "Why would you refer to her as a piece of weaponry, anyway?"

Despite everything, Dean gave a brief, surprised chuckle. "Good ole Cas," he said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I've missed you, man."

Cas's face softened into a touched smile. "I've missed you too, Dean."

Outside the building, the angel possessing Sam walked the length of the dark parking lot, his jaw gritted and nerves rattled. If Castiel discovered him… it could compromise everything. Just then, he heard a soft sound behind him and he turned, suddenly aware of keen danger.

A small and painfully average man smiled wolfishly at him from a few paces off. He was dressed frumpily with unkempt graying hair. "Well, hello there… 'Ezekiel,'" the stranger greeted coyly. "Or should I use your real name…" he stepped closer. "Gadreel?" Shocked and withering at the very correct call out, Gadreel's jaw dropped. "Metatron, unless it wasn't obvious," the stranger introduced. "Or Marv, if you prefer." He chuckled at Gadreel's visible alarm. "Relax. I'm not here to out you. But I am curious: why pretend to be Ezekiel specifically?"

Some lesser angels might have run at this exact moment. Or fought. But Gadreel was frozen, immediately feeling that he needed to be honest. Holding himself tensely, afraid of whatever impending punishment was coming his way, he squared his shoulders dutifully despite his deep shame. "Because they say he is good. An honorable angel."

"…Ahhhh!" Metatron tutted playfully, coming to understand. "Everything they say you are not. I see your point, betrayer of mankind."

Gadreel bristled at the casual use of the insult that had scourged his name for centuries. "Please do not call me that," he said stiffly, desperate to defend his honor. "The stories about me—they are not true!"

The scribe gave him a knowing look, his eyes almost twinkling. "And yet you spent countless thousands of years locked in Heaven's darkest dungeon for what you did." Metatron sighed with dramatic airs. "And now you're hiding in this human pretending to be an angel you're not." He shook his head, seeming to pity Gadreel and feel very amused all at once. "Tragic. You were God's most trusted angels. That's why he chose you to protect the garden. Your one task was to keep evil from entering... from befouling his cherished creation, mankind. And yet you failed him. How's that happen?"

It was the ache in his side and the stain on his name he could never escape. "I could not stop what happened," Gadreel insisted, full of remorse and anger over the few moments of his existence that had determined the whole of his destiny. "I live in regret every passing hour over what occurred," he said harshly, tiring of the interaction. He became more hostile. "What is it you want of me, Metatron?"

"Well." The scribe smirked and strolled a couple steps closer. "I was the one who freed you, actually."

This rendered Gadreel very surprised indeed. "…You?"

"Oh yes," Metatron confirmed dreamily. "Me. I was the one who caused all the angels to fall. Including the imprisoned ones." He grinned, and it was not pleasant. "You're welcome."

"But this means… no angels are in Heaven," Gadreel surmised, shocked at the thought.

"Yup, it's just me!" Whatever brief pride had been there began to fade into the glint of dissatisfaction. "And you know, at first… I thought I would love it." Metatron looked upward, his eyes searching the great expanse of sky. "But it's a big place. And my solitude is getting…" he looked as though the word were sour in his mouth, "tedious." His eyes came back to Gadreel, and he clapped his hands together with abrupt giddiness. "So I have a new plan! Rebuild Heaven as the place God envisioned it, only this time, with a handpicked few. No more anemic functionaries like Bartholomew. And no more stupid angels." He paused, considering. "Maybe some funny ones…" he trailed off and winked. "And maybe some who have had an atonement arc, eh? You were his most trusted, Gadreel, and I think you can take back your reputation. It's time for the under dog to rise to redemption." He tipped his chin down solicitously. "You wanna reclaim the Heaven that was? Be part of the new way of things up there? We could do this together. What do you say?" He paused, his voice becoming a tic more ominous. "You do owe me a debt of gratitude…"

With extreme apprehension, Gadreel contemplated this twist in fate.

A faint mix of 90's hits continued to play against the bar ambience of conversation, laughter, and glassware clinking.

"So you two doing okay?" Dean asked Cas conversationally over their table. If nothing else, to distract from his nerves about Sam/Ezekiel. He was forcing himself at this point not to glance at the door every five seconds as he agonized over what Ezekiel was up to out there.

"All things considered, yes," Cas replied. He had his arms folded on the table and he looked casual, relaxed. So much more adjusted than Dean had ever seen him before.

A wave of sorrowful contemplation washed over Dean. Cas looked… good. As in put together, cared for, confident and capable of himself, bright eyed. Definitely not without worries, but he seemed hopeful. Must be nice, Dean reflected glumly. His current existence of loneliness and pain wore on him so deeply. He missed his sister. He felt ashamed and guilty about Sam, wrecked with worries about what would happen there. He wished Cas and Alex lived at the bunker, of course he did. And as constant as the pulse under his skin, he agonized himself over Jamie who burned alive in Hell every day all day without ceasing while he just existed topside without any way of getting to her. His guilt and pain knew no bounds at the injustice of it all. "I'm glad you two have each other," he ventured quietly, then shook his head at himself in soft surprise. "Never thought I'd say that." He looked over at Cas, and their time spent in the brotherhood Purgatory created swelled between them.

"I'm glad she and I have each other too," Cas said, putting a caring hand on Dean's shoulder. "But I hope you don't forget that you and I have each other, too." He meant every word from the bottom of his heart. It showed, he made no effort to disguise his emotions, and it made Dean feel unworthy as fucking shit. That, and so emotional he might cry. He hung his head as he worked to get himself together. Cas's concern increased. "Dean, you look downtrodden."

Dean tried to placate with a smile, but it was a weak attempt. "Who wouldn't be, man." He scrubbed his hand against his face, elbow on the table. It was easy to teeter on the edge of defeat. "It's just too much, Cas."

Cas repositioned slightly, leaning in to continue his close watch. "What is it? Dean, you know you can tell me anything."

Dean thought long and hard, his jaw tight and eyes hard before he finally sent his eyes sidelong at the angel. "It's just… I'm starting to worry if I made the right choice," he admitted faintly. Cas remained shrewd and caring. "Look, I uh…" Dean shook his head, harrowed by a thousand worries. "It's Sam. He's still messed up."

Visibly trying to piece the puzzle together, Cas frowned a bit deeper. "Ezekiel healed him though, I thought."

"Yeah well." Dean looked down. "Guess I left a few parts out."

Cas grew more worried in his anticipation. "What?" he urged. "Dean, what did you do?"

Hesitant and afraid, Dean contemplated as nausea roiled in his gut. But despite his fears, Cas's safe and trustworthy presence promised to be an ally in this unthinkable situation. And without even really thinking it through too much, too worn down from it all, Dean came clean. "Ezekiel's in him, dude," he whispered hoarsely, his stomach a twist of knots. "I was trying to save Sam—the stuff from the trials was killing him, then Zeke showed up and said he was damaged in the fall but he wanted to help. That he had to possess Sam to heal him right. But it's been two months and he's not done yet or that's what he says and I just… I don't got a good feeling." He was so embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Cas was certainly surprised, but took it in stride. However, the last part made him confused again. "But if Ezekiel is possessing Sam, he agreed to it…"

Dean breathed in deeply, steeling himself. He let the breath out and winced internally, bracing for whatever was next. "Yeah well… Sam was comatose. So I uh… helped Ezekiel trick Sam into saying yes."

There it was. The full truth, out in the open. Cas sat back slightly with a slackened face. "An angel is inside of your brother and he doesn't know about it? Dean, you have to tell Sam the truth. Immediately."

This was where inner protests rose. "Yeah but if Zeke bails or Sam kicks him out before Sam's finished healing, it could kill him!" Dean pointed out urgently, his jangled emotions rising.

Cas thought for a long, strained moment. He was unspeakably gentle and considerate when he finally spoke. "Is this your decision to make on Sam's behalf, Dean?"

The question made Dean ache. So much so that he would have preferred Cas lash out and condemn him. Not extend compassion. "I know it's not my decision. I know I'm a miserable, selfish bastard who's just afraid to be alone at the end of the day." Dean was wallowing in despair instead of actually doing anything, but at this point, he only knew to let Ezekiel finish healing Sam and pray it would all be okay somehow. The thought of seeing Sam laying lifeless in a hospital bed again haunted Dean's mind day and night. "Can't lose my brother, man," he managed, his heart burdened by all the impossible, forever-increasing losses of his life. "I just can't." Not even Dean understood himself sometimes, all he knew was that it had been two choices and one of those saved Sam's life. He cleared his throat hard, his eyes glittering as he sniffed hard and coughed. It was time to change subjects. "Look Cas, you can't mention this to my sister."

The angel's face fell into apprehension. "Oh Dean, I can't promise you that—Alex and I have no secrets from each other anymore, not after everything that happened. And honestly, that's beside the point. You need to tell her. More importantly, you need to tell Sam." Cas leaned close, hovering almost. "Promise me, Dean."

It felt obscenely strange how deeply Dean was considering doing exactly what Cas was asking, but… fear of retribution and judgment and loathing was quite the discourager. "I can't have both of them hating me Cas. When they find out…"

"They will be upset and angry, but I'm sure eventually they'll come around to seeing why you made this choice." Cas remained encouraging and kind. "Dean. It's the right thing to do. You don't have to be alone in this like you are."

Dean thought about it, searching his friend's eyes. And then Sam… but it was not Sam… re-entered the bar. Dean sat a little straighter, his heart beat picking up. Why was Ezekiel still the one presenting?

The angel in Sam's body came up to the table with narrowed eyes like needles. He missed nothing, taking in the look on Cas's face. "You told him about me, didn't you," he accused Dean.

Cas stood up. He was not unfriendly, but he looked on his guard. "Ezekiel."

Sam's fingers came to touch Cas's forehead. "Forget whatever it is he told you, Castiel," Ezekiel commanded, and Cas's expression obediently changed from shrewd to confused.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, appalled at what had just happened.

And then suddenly Sam was back, finishing a sentence he'd started perhaps almost ten minutes ago. "—rude." He jolted, quickly becoming upset and afraid when he realized something was wrong. "Wait, w-what just happened?" He immediately looked to his big brother for answers, who guiltily avoided eye contact.

It was that moment that Alex arrived back at the table from the bathroom. What she found was her twin standing up and looking dazed, Cas slowly sitting down as he tried to figure out why he felt so strange, and Dean looking cagey. "What's going on?" she asked in veiled suspicion. Her concern grew as she went to her brother. "Sam, what is it?" He looked the most distressed out of all of them.

"I uh—I just had another gap I think," he admitted shakily, trying to put on a brave face. But for a man in his thirties, he looked uncannily like a scared little boy. "I was just sitting here with Dean and then… suddenly Cas was just here."

Dean was suddenly in a hurry. He threw some cash on the table and fished for his keys, drawing an incredulous look from his siblings. "Look, while you were zoning out, I got a call from uh Bobby, and we gotta go."

Alex was confounded. "…What?"

Dean was already up and attempting to usher Sam away. "Yeah, good seeing you."

"Dean you can't just leave!" Alex said, trotting after her brothers in mild alarm and bewilderment.

"Bobby said it was it was important, okay? Gotta shake tail." Dean paused to give her a sarcastic smile and snide comment. "Talk to you in another two months?"

Alex stopped in her tracks and watched them leave, hurt and confused and dubious. At her side, she felt Cas's approach. "Cas what happened when I was in there?" she asked softly, brow furrowed.

He had to think about it. "Well uh—I got us more beers. Then Sam went outside…" he trailed off, coming up with a blank. "And then he came back in."

"That's it?"

"I… can't remember anything else."

Alex didn't understand how that was possible. "Well what did you talk about while I was in there? I was in there at least eight minutes."

Cas frowned, searching his mind. "I don't think we did talk."

That truly raised her visible suspicions. "What do you mean you don't think you did?" Alex asked, astounded. Her concern was growing with every heartbeat. Her eyes went to the last place she'd seen her brothers—the exit of the bar. "Something's going on here." Cas agreed with her, trying to understand why he felt so foggy suddenly. So disoriented.

After they left the bar furtively, Alex called Bobby to ask if he had just called Dean. Bobby said no. And Alex stewed further, contemplating her next course of action. Dean was lying about something. The question was, what?

The Impala roared down the road under the cover of night away from Alex and Cas. Ezekiel was out again and scathing.

"Dean, if you ever compromise me again like that, I will have no choice but to—"

Enraged at the situation and his own stupidity, Dean cut him off. "Okay lemme stop you there, now you're threatening me?" he demanded. He might be desperate, but he wasn't a doormat. Not now, not ever. "I'm letting you shack up in my little brother, did you forget that? Don't bite the hand that's feeding you, pal."

There was a brief and loaded silence. Then a foreboding reply. "I would not be so flippant, if I were you, Dean Winchester."

Dean was too busy watching the road to see the flash of whiteblue in Sam's eyes. "Yeah and I wouldn't be such an ass if I were you, dude!"

Dean sent a scathing glare sideways only to be met by a very confused Sam. "…Huh? Dean what're you talking about?" Sam shook his head and ran a hand through his hair as stress clouded his face. "...Why do I feel so weird?"

Exhausted by this endless bullshit and his role in Sam's latest problem, Dean clamped his mouth shut. The angel was holding his brother hostage at this point. "Nothing, Sam, it's nothing."

Sam swallowed. His voice sounded faint when he spoke again. "This is scaring me, Dean."

That broke his heart. "Yeah, me too Sam." He nodded at the audio system controls tiredly, his voice becoming a weary murmur. "Put on some music, will you?"

He needed something to override all the thoughts clamoring for dominance in his mind. Sam dutifully complied and scanned around on the radio, stopping when he heard a familiar 80's anthem. Sam sat back in his seat. But Dean went stiff.

'Simply the best! Better than all the rest—better than anyone—anyone I ever met.'

This was a song he couldn't stand to hear anymore. This was a song that instantly triggered a vault of shut up feelings and thoughts.

This was the song that had been playing in a noisy karaoke bar on a very fateful evening.

This was the song they'd sang along to at the top of their lungs to with theatrics and drunken glee, spilling their beers and not really even noticing.

This was the song that had been playing during their first kiss.

Dean would always remember the moment in perfect detail. That smile. That laugh. Her blonde hair catching air as they spun each other around that dance floor for all they were worth thanks to all the booze required to hunt that Shojo. As the song pumped an irresistible mood over the room, Jamie had lost her footing and Dean caught her. They'd gone still and their smiles faded into something softer that reflected the spark shared between them. He'd seen it in her eyes right when he knew she'd seen it in his. That it was finally gonna happen. And they both grinned as the distance became zero. She'd grabbed a fistful of his jacket to pull him closer even as he'd put a hand into her hair to pull her in by her head. Surrounded by drunken fools shouting karaoke at the top of their lungs, all Dean could remember was fireworks in his chest the moment they'd first kissed. He could still feel her in his arms.

Sudden impossible grief blindsided him like being hit by a freight train.

"Well anyway, it was really nice to see them again," Sam said, even as Dean practically slammed the power button on the dashboard, sending the car into stark silence. Sam blinked, startled. "What is it Dean?"

"I hate that goddamn song, okay?" Dean seethed, at the point of punching something or crying, he wasn't sure. "Can't hear myself think."

Sam balked innocently, trying to understand the sudden outburst—he didn't remember the song or why it might be significant. "What's wrong with Tina Turner?"

"Everything!" Dean barked, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Sam's concern tensed his youthful face, translating into empathy. "What's going on with you?" he asked softly. "For real."

Dean however became even more gruff and closed off. "I'm fine, Sam."

"You don't seem fine." Sam wet his lips and took his chances. "And I mean, I don't think you have in awhile. Is Alex right? Is something going on? Dean you can tell me anything. I only wanna help."

Dean rubbed his eyes briefly. Sam couldn't help him. No one could. "Enough Sam, please," he said, utterly sapped. "Everything's fine. I just need you to leave me the fuck alone, okay?"

There was a blessed silence. And just when Dean thought he was in the clear, Sam tried again. "Look, just gotta say it once and for all, if this has something to do with Jamie—"

The mention of her name made him fly into a rage. "When I told you she was an off-limit topic, I meant it Sam!"

"But Dean—"

"I said I don't talk about her anymore, are you deaf?!" Dean yelled, his agitation hitting extreme levels as he glared wildly. "Final warning, do not go there with me man! Bury it!"

Stung and confused by his brother's behavior, Sam sank down into his seat, festering in his worries, fears, and pains.

Dean tried not to feel bad about it, but he did.

As he drove himself and Sam down the road, he felt more and more trapped by his decision to let Ezekiel possess his brother. The beginnings of true fear about what Zeke was capable of or planning on were brewing. But who could Dean confide in? He thought about how Ezekiel erased Cas's memory so easily and it terrified and enraged him. The things Ezekiel could do and keep from Dean were potentially limitless. It was much more dangerous than Dean had originally realized.

What can I do about this? Cas can't help, he's lost his mojo. Alex would barbecue me for dinner. And Sam… I doubt he'll be okay with this ever. Hell. I'm not. Fuck why did I do this!

His only hope was that in the end this would truly be worth it. Dean couldn't bear to think about the alternative.

Sam tried a couple more times to console Dean, which only ended with Dean getting more aggravated and pulling over angrily to a motel saying he needed rest pronto. Really, he just wanted those prying eyes and questions to stop. He felt less and less able to deal with stress, like a boiling point was near. He was no longer in control, and that was a scary feeling.

Dean crashed in bed shoes and all, turning his back to Sam and acting like he went to sleep. He heard Sam turn in and start snoring. And despite the barrage of guilt, angst, and pain, Dean finally began to drift off.

Just when he began to hit the merciful wave of deeper sleep, his phone began to vibrate, jolting him back awake. Pissed off, Dean snatched it out of his pocket. This had better be something good to bother him in the middle of the goddamn night. The number was not one he had stored in his phone and with a glare eye roll combo, Dean answered. "Yeah," he grunted harshly, rubbing a hand down his gritty, exhausted eyes.

And then everything instantly changed.

A voice he never thought he'd hear again asked his name softly on the other end of the line. "…Dean?"

Like being struck by lightning, that's how fast his world changed. His fatigue evaporated instantly. He was already sitting bolt upright in bed with a racing heart and airless lungs. Sudden adrenaline rioted in his veins.

"…Jamie?!" he asked in a breathless whisper.