Chapter Twenty- Two: Hole in the Sky ((Akira Yamaoka))

"Okay, okay… so explain this to me again," Dean rubbed his temples tiredly. He had the mother of all headaches right now, and what the angels were telling him was not helping at all.

Gabriel huffed. "How hard is it to understand? Your Sasquatch of a brother burst in and stole the sword from us!"

The four of them sat along the bar at Balthazar's club, once the angel mission had returned. The owner was behind the bar, getting everything ready for the night's opening in a few hours. He frowned, stacking a few rounds of glasses.

"You must've seen it wrong. It couldn't have been Sammy."

"Dean," Castiel set a hand on his arm, comfortingly. "It was definitely your brother. We all saw it."

He shook his head, face set. "It wasn't him. Sam is with Lucifer. I don't think you can get away from the devil unless he lets you go. And even if he did manage to get out, he'd come back and find us. Not mess up our only plan."

"There's always possession," Crowley said quietly, fingers tracing the bar in thought. "Luci could have put a demon in your brother's head. That would explain pretty much everything. Hell, if he liked him so much, he might have traded his own model in for an upgrade."

Dean looked at the demon, about five seconds from lunging over the bar and killing him for even suggesting such a thing. Crowley supposed he probably would have, if not for the angel's hand on him.

"I'm not sure," Castiel chewed at his lip, tightening his grip on the hunter's arm a bit. "Sam seemed to be himself. He seemed to think we were betraying him, rather than the opposite."

Dean turned his attention back to the angel, ignoring Crowley completely. "What do you mean?"

"It's like… he knew who we were, but he thought we were someone else at the same time." Castiel frowned, trying to find a way to explain the odd conversation they'd had with Sam in the warehouse. "Like we were something that just happened to look like us."

"Like Shapeshifters or something?" the hunter ran his free hand through his hair. It didn't make any sense, but that's what it sounded like Castiel was talking about. The only thing Dean could think of that Sam would mistake them for, walking around looking like the angels he knew.

"I… perhaps?"

"Why would he think we were something like that?" Gabriel rested his chin on his arms. "I think he was playing us. Luci must have something possessing him, like Crowley said."

Dean was trying very hard to ignore them. Otherwise, he was going to punch them.

"Did he look okay, when you saw him?" he tried instead. "I mean, was he hurt or anything?"

Balthazar snorted, shutting the cooler door he was restocking. "He basically took the three of us down; I don't think you have anything to worry about there."

"He didn't seem to have any new power either," Castiel continued. "If he were being possessed, then he would have had demon powers at his disposal. And he seemed to think we would have our Grace back."

"This is all kinds of confusing," the archangel huffed, slumping over the bar. "He's not dead, at least. That's the good news. Now if we could just figure out what Luci did to him."

Dean made up his mind. "We're leaving tomorrow."

The others stared at him, curiosity evident.

"Where?" Castiel was the one to speak up.

"We're going to find Lucifer."

Crowley scowled. "Don't be daft. Without the sword, we don't stand a chance. We'll be walking right into certain doom."

"We're gonna assume that for some reason, Sammy's under Satan's control right now," he hated to admit it, but it was the most likely option. He knew Sam had put up a fight, and that was the only reassurance he could give himself at this point. "So by that most likely assumption, Luci's got the sword now. We get in, we take the sword from wherever he's got it stashed, and we use it. Take care of Luci and Sam'll be back to normal. Then we continue on with our regularly scheduled fighting program."

No one said anything. They all knew how incredibly stupid this plan was. There were too many variables. Variables that could get them all killed in a very bloody mess. However, it was the closest thing to a working idea they had, and they couldn't just do nothing.

Finally, Balthazar sighed. "Well if you all are off to get yourselves killed in a blaze of glory, then I suppose drinks are on the house."

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Castiel watched as Dean pushed the door open to their hotel room, shoulders slumped. He was drunk, the angel knew, and he couldn't really blame him. The hunter had explained to him, the first night they were at Balthazar's club, the effects that alcohol had on human senses. It numbed the pain he must be feeling, at least for awhile. Normally, he would protest this, that it didn't solve anything, but Dean looked miserable.

He was leading them all to their deaths tomorrow. His brother was under a fallen angel's control, and there was a good chance they wouldn't be able to save him either. Castiel figured he could allow Dean a little comfort where he could find it.

Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him. The human wasn't focusing on anything, just staring off to one side. He was swaying a bit, balance dampened by his inebriation.

"You should sit down," the angel said quietly. "You're going to fall."

"Already fallin'," he slurred in reply, the edge of his mouth quirking up in a humorless smile. "S'okay though… got you…"

Castiel frowned, confusion evident on his face. He opened his mouth to ask what exactly Dean meant by that, but found the words trapped as another mouth pressed against his. Dean pressed closer, leaning his weight against the angel and pushed him back. Castiel kissed back, his hands reaching to hold on to the hunter's shoulders. This was different from the time in Chuck's spell circle. There was desperation there, the same as there had been before, but it was evenly matched this time. Dean tasted like the bitterness of the beer he'd been drinking all night. Castiel found it somehow fitting.

He found himself on his back on the bed, with the human slumped over him, knees on either side of his waist. Dean kissed Castiel hard, and he returned it with the same intensity. There were hands in the angel's hair, twisting and tugging in a way that should be painful, but had an altogether different reaction this time. It made his heart beat faster, made everything seem more important. Heat prickled at his skin and it made him squirm.

Fingers were fumbling along the buttons of his shirt, their usual deftness disappearing under the blaze of alcohol and urgency. Castiel's hands tightened on the other's shoulders, accidentally biting at his lip in his nervousness. This only served to fuel the human on, growling a noise into the kiss that made Castiel shudder.

The kiss was broken, and the angel panted for breath, Dean's name slipping out somewhere in between. Dean slid down, and Castiel's hands replaced themselves in the short strands of the other's hair, fingers tightening without him telling them to. The hunter's mouth traced a hot line down Castiel's chest, dragging a noise out of him as his back arched, pressing him closer to the source. He continued his descent, stopping only when he reached the waist of the angel's dark slacks. He glanced up at the other, green eyes that should have been dulled by the alcohol now blazing with something else.

"Cas?"

Castiel whimpered, biting hard at his lip as he met the gaze.

"Hey, Cas…"

He swallowed thickly, trying to make his voice work for words instead of just noises. "W- What?"

"Wake up…"

This confused him, and suddenly he was opening his eyes. He stared into the same intense green as before, this time above him and looking tired. Tired and slightly concerned.

"Dean…?"

The worry edged off a bit, and the hunter offered a small smile. "You with me now?"

He nodded, still unsure what exactly happened. Dean leaned back, giving him room to sit up. The angel's face was hot as he curled up in the blankets, drawing his knees up to his chest. "What happened?"

"You were dreaming again," Dean replied, studying him to be sure he was alright. "Another nightmare, I guess. You were making all kinds of noises and squirming around. You didn't kick me this time though, so that's a bonus."

"Oh." Castiel looked uncomfortable, tense and unnerved. "You're not drunk."

Dean chuckled quietly, only a hint of the normal humor there. "Of course I'm not. Tomorrow's too important for me to try dealing with a hangover. Was I drunk in your dream?"

Castiel twisted the sheets in his fingers, staring intently at them. He nodded.

"What happened?" He hated to think he might have done something to upset the angel, even in a dream. Castiel's face turned a shade redder, and Dean almost laughed at it. A blushing angel.

And then something clicked in his head. Castiel had dreamed about them.

"Oh."

Castiel stared at him as realization washed over his features. His own face warmed a bit, and the situation suddenly got a hell of a lot more awkward. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the room, and probably would if given the slightest provocation. Dean reached out slowly, not wanting to scare him, and set a hand on the angel's arm.

The touch broke the tense stillness, and Castiel pressed forward before either of them knew what was happening. The kiss wasn't as hard as before, it lacked the sharp bite of teeth and desperation. This was something softer, more relieved. Dean let it happen, pressed back into it and responded.

Castiel pulled away far too early for his liking, but didn't go far, breathing against his mouth and staring at the other sharply.

"I apologize."

Dean licked his lips and watched the angel slowly remove himself from his personal space. This was bad. This was worse than he'd thought it was, and even though he'd tried to stop it before, it kept coming back. They were going to have to deal with this. And what better time than the night before the most important battle they could ever fight?

Dean cleared his throat, suddenly finding his mouth too dry for words. "Okay, this is probably gonna be the most awkward conversation I've ever had."

Castiel stared at him, careful not to move any closer to the hunter than he already was. If he got any closer, he was going to kiss him again. And he was fairly certain that was one of the things Dean wasn't ready to 'deal with', as he'd said the previous morning. It was bad enough he'd already done it once already.

"I'm not sure what exactly this all is," he continued, rubbing his face tiredly. He leaned against the headboard, knees pulled up and resting his arms over them. He looked a lot more comfortable than he felt. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I can guess what's going on, you'd have to be pretty damned oblivious not to. But this kinda thing is new to me. There is so much wrong with this, I don't even know where to start."

The angel cast his gaze down. Dean winced.

"Shit, that came out wrong. There's nothing really WRONG with it, it's just a completely new type of weird. But still, I'm not…" he gestured uselessly. "I'm not really against it. It'll take a hell of a lot of getting used to, and I'll probably screw all kinds of stuff up in the process, but if you wanna take a shot, I can't really say I'd refuse to try it out."

Castiel was staring at him again. That weird angel type of staring that felt like he was being looked through and studied deep down. He probably was.

"So, I know we've got a lot to focus on tomorrow, but after all this…" He didn't mention the fact that they might not make it through, he didn't have to. He might as well give optimism a try at this point. "I dunno if you wanted to, but, if you ever need a break from Heaven, you're welcome to come hang around on Earth with me."

He would miss the angel when they parted ways. But he wasn't going to keep Castiel from his home. That would be selfish in a way he didn't ever want to be. He briefly thought of Crowley, knowing that Gabriel was staying for his sake and not caring.

Castiel's reply was quiet, so much that he almost missed it among his thoughts. But he smiled, and that knocked all thoughts of archangels and demons out of his head. Castiel smiled, and it wasn't one of his tiny half- smiles, but a real one, a genuine one that made his eyes brighten.

"I'd like that."

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When Sam woke up the next time, he expected to see his room again, familiar and comforting. This wasn't the case. He blinked his eyes open, sitting up. He was in a motel room, all white bland walls and stiff blankets, one of thousands he'd stayed in. Waking up in a motel wasn't a surprising occurrence with the Winchesters.

He remembered Shapeshifters. He remembered an abandoned warehouse, and three of them looking like angels. They tried to use a sword in some kind of ritual, and Sam stopped them. Dean left him to make sure the sword was out of their reach, and his brother had promised to take care of the shifters themselves.

Where was Dean now? He was alone in the room. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, getting to his feet. He didn't remember checking into a motel. A quick look around told him that a few of their bags were in the room. Only his. Not his brother's. Something like a white towel stuck out from the top of one of the bags, but he paid it no mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to than why he seemed to be stealing motel towels.

So he was alone, in a strange motel he didn't remember checking into, without his brother. Nothing about this was okay. He started pacing around the room, looking in dresser drawers and under blankets. The room was completely empty, as if no one had been staying in it. Not a single personal item to be found.

The sword was gone as well. Sam ran a hand through his hair. Dean would kill him if he lost that sword.

He racked his brain, trying to remember what happened in between leaving the warehouse and waking up. Nothing came to mind. Like he'd just gone straight from there to here. He hadn't gotten hurt, there was no reason he should have blacked out between then.

He reached in his pocket, checking for his cell. He flipped it open, pressing the speed dial button for his brother. Dean would be able to tell him what he wasn't remembering. It was possible that he'd been blindsided after he left, and Dean had brought him here before going back out to finish the job. But something didn't feel right about this. There was a horrible sinking feeling in his chest, and the longer the phone rang, the worse it got. Dean wasn't answering. The voicemail clicked, and he left a quick message before flipping the phone shut, tossing it down on the rumpled bed.

His back was to the door when it opened. He whirled around, hoping to find his brother standing there, probably holding paper bags with breakfast in them. He knew before his eyes reached the doorway that this wasn't going to be the case.

"Sam."

Sam stared, frozen in shock. Lucifer smiled calmly back at him. Finally, his body remembered how to move, and the tall hunter stumbled back. His leg knocked into the edge of the bed in his haste, and he fell, landing on carpet that was nowhere near soft enough to cushion his fall. It hardly registered as he stared up at the devil, refusing to take his eyes off him for even a second.

"What are you doing here?" he managed, voice barely above a surprised whisper.

"Checking up on you, of course," Lucifer chuckled. On anyone else, it would've sounded fond. But this was the devil. It wasn't pleasant. "You're hard to get hold of, Sam. When the two I sent after you never made it back, I knew I'd have to come for you myself. I should have known the direct approach would work best."

So Meg and Ruby had been working for Lucifer. He supposed that made sense. He also knew that they weren't BACK in Purgatory. They'd never left. The whole Shapeshifter case was just a trick. There was a reason everything seemed so weird about it. Because it wasn't really a case. He wasn't helping his brother, he was hindering the angels. He'd walked right into Lucifer's trap.

"What do you want?" Sam hissed. His eyes narrowed, surprise giving way to his hunters' instincts.

"I've already gotten what I want, Sam. I wanted you."