When Castiel had put his hand to her temple, she expected a zap, a tingle, or even a spark. When nothing had happened, and she only felt the increasingly awkward press of fingers in her personal space she flipped out and backed up, gritting her teeth in annoyance. "Why am I still here?"

"I don't know." Castiel's voice was nearly thunder-like in quality as he sent her a glare, lowering his gaze to the hand that had touched her and outright flexing his fingers. "It is as if a shell is encasing you. I am unable to wrap my grace around it."

"What," she scoffed, a frown furrowing her brows as a bit of disappointment touched her form, "You mean I can't go flying with any angels?"

"Not that I'd be able to see," he shook his head sharply, then huffed, "What are you. Answer."

"Yeah, I don't exactly trust you right now..? Maybe in a year or two.."

"Tell me," his fist clenched sharply into her shirt, and her back was suddenly pressed against the wall, her eyes going wide at the sight of the large, gleaming blue wings rising in an almost threatening gesture. "I'm human, I swear. I don't have magic powers. Just visions of a possible future on repeat whenever I try to sleep."

"What is your name?" he narrowed his eyes sharply, "There are no prophets with the name CJ. Nor are there any names with such an initialism."

"Let go.. Of me.." her voice was thicker now, her breathing ragged as she glared into the man's stolen powder blue eyes, "I don't care how much I like you, I do not trust you now . Go to Dean. And hurry. He's going to be attacked by Azazel, and if he dies, the righteous man's death is on your hands." He slowly let go of her shirt, and she slid down the wall until her feet touched the floor. She hurried to grab his sleeve when he'd lifted his wings, likely preparing for flight, and when he drew his eyes back to her with a snap, she gave him an almost feral expression. "And also, do not ever threaten to send Dean Winchester back to Hell. Even if you weren't bluffing, your superiors would surely smite you first." At the flicker of indignation in his eyes, she finished, "He is far more important than you were told. Than most of the angels know. So treat him well, because it is his trust you must earn if you wish to be close enough by his side to understand him."

When she had let go of his coat, not a second later, he was gone.

Three and a half minutes..

It was three and a half minutes of nonstop-trench-in-the-rug pacing. And every second was agony. Seconds stretched to minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. Her pulse thundered in her ears and the rushing blood echoed like waves on a windy beach.

She wanted nothing more than to go back with Dean.

But of course the, quite possibly only superpower she had was now also her greatest weakness.

She was like a glass jar. Unable to be angelically altered. She couldn't jump through time. Couldn't even get to fly with anyone...

It was not the first time she figured out she would need help.

And who better to help than the archangel currently playing Pagan.

She'd need to work fast, and she'd need to be convincing. She'd need to drill into this man's metaphorical head exactly what was at stake if things diverged from the set path until people could be saved.

She just had to live long enough to get to that point.

And to do that, she was going to need to talk to the angel.

Fuuuuuuucckkkkk.

When Dean had appeared, asleep, on top of his bed, with his coat pulled over him like a makeshift blanket, she'd nearly cried out in relief. Instead, she threw herself at the sleeping hunter just as his eyes popped open, startling him twice as much as would have been normal as she pulled him into a rough, tight hug. She could feel the wetness of his eyes against her neck, and the spasmic, startled clawing of his fingers in the back of her coat felt hesitant. But as she murmured soft words into his hair, clutching him tighter as she gently rocked his shoulders, she felt him hug back almost just as much.

"I'm sorry- I'm so, so sorry.. I can't say much.. I have to be there- and then Castiel couldn't bring me and-"

"I don't blame you, CJ."

His words were quiet, and dry, and she felt the tears falling from her eyes before she registered the stinging. She felt him pull back, sniffing loudly as she lifted her sleeve to wipe away what remained of the tears. His hand came up, and her eyes clenched shut, the moment dragging on like an eternity before Dean had pushed aside the hesitance, letting his fingers ghost over her face to push the damp bangs from her eyes, and tuck the largest section of hair back over her shoulder.

"We need to find Sam."

It had been only a half of a minute before his brain registered the empty bed again, and the angel standing just a few feet away, watching them intently with what he could only describe as profound confusion. Looking more like some lost puppy than what should be a feared, ethereal being of God.

Sitting up, he let her settle on the bed across from him, Sam's empty bed, and he addressed the angel with a breathless frown. "I couldn't stop it.. I couldn't stop any of it.." He felt the hand on his knee, and he looked down to see the small, pale hand of their new resident psychic. He pressed his lips together, bowing his head in despair and shame, but did not comment on it, and did not brush it away. "She still made the deal.. She still died in the nursery didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Castiel did not look at his as he spoke, choosing to let his eyes glaze over in thought as he stood standing a ways away from them, probably trying to work out their giant mess of a puzzle. "You couldn't have stopped it."

Dean stood slowly, looking at the angel in disbelief. CJ's hands fell to her lap, and she wrung them out roughly, like trying to scrub dirt from beneath an icy faucet. "What?"

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean" Castiel's voice was laced with wisdom, and reverence, and he turned to face Dean directly, when he continued. "All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why did you send me back?" The most broken, heart-wrenching pain settled in CJ's chest, and for once she didn't stop to wonder if it was hers or Dean's.

"For the truth," Castiel gave a small nod, flicking his eyes toward CJ with the faintest glimmer of searching. For what? Acknowledgement, input? His eyes flicked back to Dean, and he blinked slowly as he pieced together the right words. "Now you know everything we do."

CJ so badly wanted to bleat out how much of a lie that was, but she knew that this actually was the extent of Castiel's knowledge. She could hate Zacharia, Michael and Raphael all she wanted later.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded. Castiel's eyes slid to the bed CJ was sat on, the sheets looking untouched, otherwise. Dean followed his look immediately, and his instincts, drilled into him since he had been four, kicked into absolute overdrive. "Where is Sam?" he demanded. He had eyes only for the angel, ignoring the woman that darted behind him to grasp her duffel bag and lug Dean's onto her opposite shoulder to join the other.

"We know what Azazel did to your brother," Castiel pointed out calmly, or more emotionlessly, as all angels without first-hand experience of hunger, thirst, and love often did. "What we don't know is why . What his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up.."

"Where. Is. Sam?"

"425 Waterman."

Dean moved to grab his discarded jacket, shucking it over his shoulders quickly and absentmindedly touching the pendant around his neck to be sure that it was still there.

"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean. And we're not sure where it leads. So stop it.."

The elder Winchester turned back silently at the crypticness of the angel's comment. CJ stood resolutely by the door, silently informing him that she had his keys by the delicate way she held them by the key ring. His eyes flickered back to the angel, and they stayed there as he processed the rest of the angel's words.

"...or we will."