To old readers: hey, welcome back. This is a rewrite of the final scene in chapter two (the original of which has now been deleted) which takes place after the boys visit Pamela. It got a little out of hand, but fits more closely with my original outline, and maybe I can get my butt in gear for the actual third chapter now.

To new readers: welcome! None of that stuff matters to you because you never saw the original. Have fun.

Truth or Dare Part Two:

They debated the Angel Situation over lunch.

While they were all in agreement that they wanted – and more than that, needed – to summon this Castiel, they were at odds as to how they wanted to go about it.

Dean wanted wards and sigils and traps, protection from the angel in case they got violent. It was a nice thought, surprisingly safety-conscious for a Winchester, but Bobby had had to burst Dean's bubble with a pointed reality check: they didn't know jack shit about angels or how to protect against them. At this point they were practically waist deep in demon lore, but angels were a whole new ball game.

Sam suggested that, since they couldn't cover some room in wall-to-ceiling wards for protection, they find a wide outdoor space for the summoning, somewhere they would be able to keep lots of distance between themselves and Castiel in case things turned bad.

No one was super keen on Sam's suggestion, but what Bobby and Dean said got Harry thinking.

Pushing away his empty plate, Harry slid out of the booth, already slipping into thought.

"I'm going to make a phone call," he said absently, patting Sam reassuringly on the shoulder as he turned to leave the diner.

As he left he heard Dean say something in an incredulous tone, but the words themselves were muted, his focus already shifting to his phone as he dug it out of his pocket and typed in three familiar numbers.

Harry made himself comfortable on the hood of Bobby's truck while the phone rang. He wasn't in the mood for the lecture Dean would likely give him if he was caught sitting on the Impala.

A darkly amused voice drew him out of his thoughts.

"Well well well, you're a talkative one this week aren't you? Angel hunt go bust already?"

Harry tipped his head back and laughed.

"Such faith. No. We know how to get them to come to us, we just don't know how to make them stay. It got me thinking – is there an angelic version of a Devil's Trap?"

On the other end of the line, Crowley scoffed.

"Of course there is. You try hard enough and anything can be trapped. Humans are, of course, notoriously easy to trap."

"I know, I know, we're all idiots who don't look before we leap. I suppose the better question is, do you know how to trap an angel?"

"To quote a friend, 'such faith.'" There was a sound akin to a rustling of papers for a short while, before Crowley spoke again. "It seems like holy fire'll do the trick just nicely."

"Right." Harry sighed. "Because that sounds really subtle and totally easy to organise."

"Obviously you don't just light the fire and hope they fly into it. Have you learnt nothing from our partnership?"

"Fine, fine. What am I burning and where do I get it?"

"Legally? In the human world? While holy oil does sound very religious, I'm not sure churches keep that sort of thing in this day and age. Like I said the other day, it's been a long time since those bastards bothered touching down on your land."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So you have a solution but I can't use it."

"Did I say those words?"

"So you can get me holy oil then?"

"It'll cost you."

Harry rolled his eyes, even though the demon couldn't see him.

"How long have we known each other? I knew you'd ask for something in return. Deals are your thing after all."

"You're not going to ask what I want?"

"It's never something I can't pay. How long will it take you?"

"I should be able to scrounge some up within the next twenty-four hours. I'm sure you boys are just chomping at the bit waiting to catch yourselves an angel."

"Lunchtime tomorrow then," Harry agreed easily. "You know how to find me."

"Indeed I do," Crowley said, and then he hung up.

Harry put his phone back in his pocket, and when he looked up he found all three of his companions watching him through the window of the diner. He waved at them, and they hurriedly glanced away, except for Sam, who waved back.

They'd all finished eating before Harry left the building, nursing the remains of hot drinks and ruminating over a game plan, so he felt content to wait outside for them to pay and come to him, rather than head back inside.

Sam was the last out the door, and Harry could tell that he'd been caught out already. Safe behind Bobby and Dean Sam mouthed Crowley's name in question. Harry inclined his head just slightly in affirmation. Briefly, Sam glanced heavenwards, as though questioning his life choices, but when he caught Harry's gaze again he merely rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"I think we can make your plan work," Harry said to Dean, obediently sliding off the car when Bobby smacked him in the shoulder.

"What? Where was this support when these two bozos were naysaying all my ideas?" Dean jabbed a thumb aggressively in Sam's direction.

"That's what the phone call was for. You didn't want false support did you? If you did then I'm sorry I didn't lie for you."

Dean huffed out an aggravated breath but otherwise held his tongue.

"What did you find then?"

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Harry clapped his hands together then spread his arms wide. "As you all know I've accumulated rather a lot of information on demonology over the years. While you were muttering about traps and protection wards I got to thinking this: what if there's an angelic version of a Devil's Trap? A bit of subtle manoeuvring and it would solve all of our problems."

"Kid's got a point," Bobby chimed in, voice gruff but approving.

"Did you find one?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer but playing along regardless.

"Indeed I did. It does however require supplies that we don't have, so my friend is sorting that out for us. He's good at rustling stuff up, but we won't be able to summon the angel until tomorrow. Maybe that'll test your patience a little Dean, but it means we have plenty of time to pick a good spot for this little meet-and-greet."

Dean squinted suspiciously at Harry. "How do we know it'll work?"

"We don't," he admitted easily. "But holy fire sounds pretty fucking legit, right? And word on the street is there's hardly been a lot of angels earthside in the last couple hundred years, so it's not like anyone's had a chance to try it out recently. We'll be leading the way in angelic safety protocols."

"Now you sound like you're promoting some shady clinical drug trial."

Bobby cuffed Dean lightly in the back of the head. Harry laughed at Dean's disgruntled but half-hearted complaint.

"Let's just go find somewhere to stay the night," Sam implored them, gesturing towards the cars meaningfully.

"Unless you'd rather spend the night at Pamela's, now that you know we've got some time to kill," Harry added.

Far maybe half a second, Dean paused, then he turned and gave Harry some serious stink eye.

"If I leave you're gonna plan this shit without me and I'm gonna get stuck doing something embarrassing. Like hell am I letting that happen."

With his hands in the air in surrender Harry pleaded his innocence, but Dean wasn't budging. As payback, Harry and Sam were subjected to all sorts of crass jokes on the way to a motel, and they both wondered if it wouldn't have been easier to hide their relationship than have to hear Dean talking about their sex life.

oOoOo

Most of the hours that followed Harry's call to Crowley were uneventful. They found a motel, booked two rooms, found a decent place to carry out their summoning, and then basically went their separate ways for the evening. In the morning they went back to the same diner for breakfast, and then they returned to the motel to wait.

They all gathered in Harry and Sam's room.

Harry was sprawled out on the spare bed, deep in discussion with Bobby about the effectiveness versus efficiency of various methods of creature identification, when a rush of heat flared up at the base of his neck. He trailed off mid-sentence, launching himself up off the bed, but he was barely on his feet before there was a knock at the door.

Sam, who was closest to the door, glanced up from his laptop and over at Harry, a question in his gaze. Harry nodded. For a moment, Sam's entire body seemed to slump in resignation – which Harry could totally get behind, he shouldn't've let Bobby and Dean hang out in their room when he was expecting a delivery – before he straightened up, placed his laptop gently on the mattress beside him, and climbed to his feet. Because they had to pretend to be safety conscious, Sam locked the security chain in place before cracking the door open and peering out. He tossed a slightly rattled look Harry's way when he shut the door to unlock it, and Harry only had a mere second to wonder what had caused it before the door swung open, revealing their guest.

It was Crowley.

In hindsight, Harry should've known that Crowley was never too busy to rock the boat, and that his assumption that Crowley would just send one of his lackeys as a delivery man was naively optimistic. But he just hadn't put two and two together until it was thrown in his face.

Unfortunately they had an attentive audience, and Harry couldn't afford to be caught in his confusion. Biting back some of the more sensitive questions aching to be asked, Harry plastered on a welcoming smile and stepped forward to join Sam at the door.

"I'm sure a courier would've been simpler," Harry said in lieu of a greeting, arms already inching forward to take the ostentatious porcelain pot from Crowley's grasp.

"Nonsense." The demon smirked and took a pointed step over the threshold and into the room. "If you want something done right, do it yourself, right?"

Harry's smile twitched. He waved Sam off so they didn't paint as hostile a picture for Bobby and Dean, but remained in front of the open door, the toes of his shoes almost flush against Crowley's as he took one more step forward.

"Am I to take it that this means you're cashing in the favour I owe you in payment right now? It's a little inconvenient."

"So quick to try and turn me away. Another person might be offended."

Harry knew he didn't actually have much right to deny Crowley his payment, so he held his tongue.

"It'll be the easiest favour you've ever given," Crowley assured him, subtly shifting the pot just out of reach whenever Harry tried to make a grab for it. "I just want to watch."

Harry blinked dumbly at him, hands frozen outstretched in the air.

"Watch?"

"I want to see the trap in action."

Ah. Harry's eyes closed in resignation and his hands fell back to his sides. Crowley wanted to poke fun at the angel. Of course he did.

He took a step back, forfeiting their stand-off, and glanced over his shoulder at the others.

"It's your rodeo, Dean."

"Hmm?" The man in question shook himself, surprised by the sudden change from bystander to participant.

"Is it cool with you if Crowley sticks around while you summon your angel friend?"

Dean gestured loosely at the pot of holy oil. "That the price for his assistance?"

Crowley smiled his businessman smile with a flash of teeth, fingers tightening exaggeratedly around the pot. Dean wisely took that as an affirmation.

"And you trust him?"

Harry cleared his throat and said, instead of directly answering the question, "I've worked with him before."

If Dean noticed the technical differences between the question and the answer he didn't comment on it; from behind Dean Bobby sent Harry an unimpressed look that told him in no uncertain terms that half-assed misdirection like that wasn't going to fool him any time soon. Harry shrugged helplessly. His level of trust varied on a case-by-case basis, determined by pre-set parameters and actual knowledge of the situation – any answer he gave would be as much a lie as it was truth, so it was better not to try and answer at all.

"If that's what it takes to figure out what the hell is going on around here, then that's what we'll do. One more person's hardly gonna make a difference at this point."

With the decision made Harry stepped fully out of Crowley's way, allowing the demon into the room proper.

"Glad we could come to an agreement," he said, all teeth, and perched himself on the edge of the bed Sam had been sitting on.

To Dean and Bobby he must've seemed like a particularly eccentric contact, but many hunters and the people associated with the business were a bit off-centre, so there was nothing overtly suspect or concerning about a possessive or curious streak. To Sam and Harry, who knew full well Crowley was a demon, the whole thing was a painful farce of normality, kept together only by ignorance.

Harry really needed to learn to choose his words more carefully when making requests from Crowley, and stop leaving such open-ended promises from which Crowley could then take his pick. Something told him it wouldn't matter for much longer though. If Dean had been able to see the true faces of demons in his dying days, there was no way an angel wouldn't be able to tell straightaway that Crowley wasn't human.

Their peaceful (if you could call it that) reunion hadn't even lasted a week and was already at risk of being overturned.

Harry closed the motel door with a heavy heart and listened with one ear as the others finalised their game plan.

oOoOo

The shell of a barn they'd found to use was entirely unappealing, but Harry supposed that was what was so good about it. With concrete floors, wooden walls, and having been completely gutted of whatever it had once held inside, it was the perfect picture of abandonment. No one would bother them here.

Crowley only handed the holy oil off once they were there. Harry assumed it was because he didn't want to risk getting dragged into the plebeian handiwork required to actually make the circle. God forbid he exert even the tiniest bit of effort towards even trifling manual labour in aid of humans.

Dean painted the circle, under Sam's guidance, ("You think I can't draw a decent circle by now?" "I'm just double-checking the lines join.") while Harry stayed back, brushing shoulders with Crowley and mostly keeping an eye on him without making it super obvious to anyone other than Crowley that that was what he was doing. Bobby observed all four of them from afar, a shotgun hanging loose in his grasp; this might've been an ask questions first, shoot later scenario, but going into anything entirely weapons free was foolish. Always have a back-up plan.

When the brothers were done arguing over Dean's artistic talents, all five of them gathered on one side of the barn.

Dean had a lighter as a back-up but Harry was technically in charge of setting the oil afire with his magic. With Dean as the one summoning Castiel it seemed better to have someone else set off the trap, and Harry just so happened to be the most convenient option.

With the preparation done, all they had left to do was call and hope the angel came.

That's when things started getting a little messy.

"So…" Dean drawled, gaze darting between the rest of them. "How exactly do we summon an angel again?"

Crowley's lips twitched, like he was fighting back an amused smirk. Harry sighed despairingly.

"Pray, I guess. And don't bother asking me for guidance, I've never been a religious sort."

There was a smattering of shrugs and nods – Crowley offered no opinion or advice, content to watch them flounder.

"Right then."

Unsure and possibly a little embarrassed, Dean started pacing back and forth in front of them, at the edge of the circle, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"I don't have to do the whole hand thing with closed eyes, right?"

Sam shrugged.

"Just do whatever, and if it doesn't work maybe you will have to go a bit more traditional, but I'm sure it doesn't really matter. There must be a reason he dragged you out of hell, so he must be paying attention. Just focus."

Rolling his eyes Dean scoffed, but slowed his steps and looked away from them, head tilted slightly skywards.

"Oh Castiel," he began, in a horribly fake tone of voice, "I, uh, I beseech thee to appear before me and, um, help me?"

With a hand over his mouth Harry tried to pretend his uncontrollable snickers were a sudden coughing fit. The glare Dean levelled at him was proof no one was buying it.

"Beseech? Really?"

"You come over here and try then, if you think I did such a terrible job."

"Oh no, no no." Harry waved his hands in surrender. "This is your angel, you do you."

"Now we wait, I guess?" Sam interjected, obviously not keen on getting into arguments in a situation with so many unknown factors.

Harry agreed with the sentiment – it was all fun and games at home or in the motel room but this was business time – but an odd sound – ostensibly just a disturbance of air but he thought he'd heard wings and something otherworldly – interrupted them before anything more could be said. As one their attention shifted in that direction, where they found an unfamiliar man standing smack-dab in the middle of the circle.

Although they were all startled and still, Harry's instinctive wartime flinch-reactions to sudden appearances often acted up in situations like this, and while these days his first reaction would be to go for a knife, he was currently unarmed, and a wave of magic burst from his fingertips, thankfully as useful sparks and embers and not a stunning spell.

All of them – Crowley aside – shifted a little uneasily as the sparks caught and the ring of fire flared into life. But the sight of the fire allowed them to gather themselves, because even though they'd been caught unawares the first part of the plan had still come to fruition.

"This is a… disquieting welcome," the man – the angel – said into the silence. His face was expressionless and his tone was monotonous and everything about him seemed entirely unperturbed by the situation, but there was something about the way he blinked, perhaps, that lent itself to the idea that he was, truly, a little surprised about the situation. Harry couldn't be certain surprise was the right word, but there was some sort of emotion in that statement that Castiel maybe didn't know how to express, or even know that he was trying to express it at all.

Castiel was both imposing and entirely underwhelming. Dressed in a suit and a trench coat he looked like a disgruntled businessman in a constant state of overtime-induced exhaustion, but Harry could feel power from him in a way that simply screamed to whoever was listening that he was far from an ordinary human.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped a little in front of everyone else, meeting Castiel's gaze head-on.

"Well, call it trust issues. I've got a bone to pick with you."

Castiel blinked again, long and slow.

"I do not understand. The only bones you possess are inside your bodies and I-" he cut himself off when his gaze shifted behind Dean. Brushing off his confusion – it seemed Heaven wasn't keeping up with colloquialisms – his expression darkened. "You keep unsettling company, Dean Winchester."

As Dean glanced back at them in confusion Harry dropped his face into his hands and sighed heavily.

Dean squinted at Castiel.

"Is that because you don't like wizards or…?"

"You are mistaken. I am grateful for Harry Potter's part in destroying an evil that threatened humanity. I was referring to that." Castiel lifted an arm and pointed accusingly at Crowley, who gave a jaunty wave and a predatory flash of teeth.

"Um… Is this because he gave us that holy oil?" Dean asked quizzically, trying not to sound as lost as he was.

"No. While I would appreciate you releasing me that is a minor concern. Dean Winchester, you are the righteous man. Why are you consorting with demons?"

"Fuck," Harry mumbled into his hands.

"Demons?"

Crowley laughed and took a step forward.

"Yes, hi, he's talking about me. I confess, I couldn't resist coming along to see the foolhardy angel who stole a soul from Hell. You're not really what I was expecting, but I suppose they had to send someone expendable given they had no idea if it would even work."

"I should'a expected something like this," Bobby muttered from the back of the group.

"Hold up," Dean said, making a bunch of time out gestures. "We're getting our information from demons now? And trusting that information? Oh god I let you sit in my car…"

"While I'm sure you having a meltdown would be fascinating, Dean, maybe we should deal with these issues one at a time, no? Angel first?"

Harry elbowed Crowley indignantly, because he was so not helping, but only got a look of fond exasperation for his efforts.

Sam stepped forward, hands out, puppy-dog eyes in full effect. "Listen, Dean, we can talk about Crowley later, okay? We came here to get answers about the angels. Let's just focus on that."

It would have been better if Sam stayed quiet. Dean's eyes narrowed in thought, gaze flicking between the three of them, and suddenly realisation dawned.

"You already knew," Dean accused, jabbing an angry finger Sam's way. "Both of you. And you just let him come, easy as you please."

"Dean-"

"Nope." Dean waved away Harry's attempt at placation. "No. Shhh. You don't get to talk anymore. I'll deal with this… later. We'll come back to this later, because I can't deal with all these things at once. So." He turned back to Castiel, and whatever congeniality he might've been willing to fake before was gone now. "Start talking. What's the deal?"

"Elaborate," Castiel requested.

Running his hand angrily through his hair, Dean glared.

"Want me to break it down? Fine. First, why did you break me out?"

"Because it was God's will."

Normally that sort of statement might have thrown him off, but Dean was running on anger and discontent at the moment, and it was good for pushing through surprises.

"Ok. Weird, but I'll buy it for now and come back to it later. What was with all the screeching and destruction when I woke up? Was that your fault?"

"Indeed. I thought you might be able to perceive my true voice, but I was clearly mistaken. That is why I had to go and find a vessel, or we would not be talking even now."

"Hold on. Vessel like meatsuit? As in, possession?"

Crowley laughed at how ill-at-ease the idea was making Dean.

"Does that really surprise you?" he mocked. "Angels and demons aren't so different, functionally speaking."

In response Castiel's voice grew colder.

"This body belongs to a devoutly religious man who offered his services to me. He will remain unharmed when I leave. We do not abuse humanity as you do."

Something about that seemed to amuse Crowley. He clicked his tongue condescendingly and shook his head.

"That's only because none of you spend any time getting in amongst them. Just because you believe in God's Great Plan while sitting in the clouds, it doesn't mean none of you would give in to temptation if you tried interacting with those you're supposed to watch over."

As much as Harry hated to admit it, that made sense. You couldn't make assumptions about action based on inaction, and you couldn't label an entire species good or evil and expect them all to fit the mould forever. It was easy to forget sometimes that hunters were highly prejudiced, and that even demons weren't as solely terrible as they liked to make them out to be. So angels not being wholly righteous? Not really much of a long-shot.

Drawing on his dignity, Castiel refused to give any further attention to Crowley's provocation, and refocused solely on Dean.

"What is it you truly wish to know? What did you call to me for?"

"Right." Dean fisted his hands at his sides, body tense from all the new information. "What do you want from me? What was so damn important that your god sent you to snatch me?"

For once Castiel looked reluctant to answer.

"I am not certain what I should tell you," he said slowly.

A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw as he ground his teeth.

"No one's letting you go free until you give us something to go on. Harry will tend to that fire indefinitely – as punishment – until you give us reason to let you go. You're better off telling us now instead of dragging this all out."

"I have other duties I must attend to," Castiel protested stiffly. Dean merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Very well. I was tasked with an attempt to prevent the beginning of the long foretold apocalypse. I raised you from perdition, but I was too late to stop the first seal from being broken. If the seals cannot be protected, then the apocalypse will come, and Lucifer will walk the earth once more."

A stunned silence fell over them at Castiel's proclamation.

Crowley voiced what was on all of their minds, if in a much more flippant manner.

"Well, that's not going to be good for anyone."