Sam was only about ten minutes away from the bunker.

His mind had been racing the entire drive home, worrying about why neither Cas or Dean had answered any of his phone calls or messages.

He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, holding his cell phone in the other. He was hoping it would ring, and that it would be his brother. But it never rang.

His expression was wrenched with anxiety, and his right foot was trembling from pressing the gas pedal so hard for hours on end.

In what seemed like the longest ten minutes ever, he finally halted the old Honda he had 'borrowed' in front of the bunker. Barely giving himself time to put it in park, he was running for the steel front door.

It creaked open slowly, and he held his breath as he stepped onto the landing.

Looking around the main room as he descended the stairs, nothing looked amiss, except for the music he could hear playing. It resonated throughout the bunker like it was alive.

*"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better..."*

It sounded like it was coming from his brother's bedroom.

"Dean?!" Sam called. "Cas?!"

He walked further into the main room in the bunker that held the enormous mapped table. Closing in on the source of the music, he could hear the song- it was one he'd heard before.

*"...Hey, Jude, don't be afraid

You were made to go out and get her

The minute you let her under your skin

Then you begin to make it better..."*

Sam called his brother's name again, turning down the hallway to his bedroom.

"Dean, where are you?!"

He finally turned the corner, discovering the open door to Dean's room, and the disarray that lay behind it.

"What the hell...?" Sam said to himself.

He was wondering if Dean had done this himself, or if someone else had. There weren't signs of a typical struggle; Sam had seen many of them, but to him it only looked like someone had thrown a god-awful temper tantrum. No blood, no broken doors. Just a mess, and the blaring stereo that had been left on.

*"...And anytime you feel the pain

Hey, Jude, refrain

Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

For well you know that it's a fool

Who plays it cool

By making his world a little colder..."*

Sam ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, trying to remember to breathe.

He kicked a broken lamp shade out of his path, then started for the hallway.

"Okay...Look in the garage Sam. He's probably in there." Sam thought to himself, but knew he was probably wrong. Nothing here felt normal to him, and unfortunately the hunter in him was usually right.

Sam rushed down the corridor, opening every door and closet on his way to the garage to make sure he didn't miss anything. He had to find Dean and Cas.

Sam was almost there, when he came to a sudden halt in the hallway.

In front of him he saw the door to the dungeon in pieces, strewn about the floor like confetti. It reminded him of the aftermath of an explosion, and his heart skipped a beat.

Rushing forward, he stepped over the pieces of the door and through the doorway to the Dungeon.

"Dean!" Sam was praying for an answer as he howled into the dark dungeon. He almost wish he'd turned the damn stereo off so he could hear.

*"...Hey, Jude, don't let me down

You have found her, now go and get her

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better..."*

Flipping the emergency light switch on the wall to his right, the dungeon illuminated.

Among the debris and shattered glass that rested on the floor laid Castiel, and around his body on the concrete were the marks that his wings had left behind when he died.

Sam's breathed hitched, and a lump formed in his throat as he saw Cas's limp form.

"Cas!" He ran to Castiel's side, hoping he was wrong. He couldn't be gone...not Cas.

"No! Cas...Hey! Wake up!" Sam was shaking him, compulsively listening and feeling for a heartbeat. His face pale, and his eyes bereft of any signs of life.

Sam's eyes were filled with tears; one his closest friends was dead, and his brother probably was too. Whatever had killed Cas had to have been strong.

*"...So let it out and let it in

Hey, Jude, begin

You're waiting for someone to perform with

And don't you know that it's just you,

Hey, Jude, you'll do

The movement you need is on your shoulder..."*

He fell back from his knees, sitting on the floor next to his deceased friend.

Through his blurred vision, Sam noticed the piece of paper on top of Castiel. Wiping the tears from his face, he picked it up.

It was Dean's handwriting: "Sammy, let me go." It read.

His heart dropped, and his stomach felt sick.

"No no no no..." His mind was racing.

"Dean didn't do this. He couldn't have...there's no way..." Sam thought.

He willed his trembling hands to pull his cell phone from his pocket, his brow furrowed and his free hand clenched into a fist in frustration.

He let it ring all the way until Dean's voicemail answered. Sam didn't want to say anything he would regret, knowing his brother wasn't in his right mind because of the Mark. He hung up the phone, and made himself get up.

Sam looked down at Cas.

"The Mark...it did this. Dean lost it. And I was too late." He thought, and hoped to God he was wrong-mostly for his brother's sake. Sam knew Dean would never be able to live with himself with Castiel's blood on his hands.

Sam exhaled a breath that he felt like he'd been holding forever. He grabbed his head with both hands in despair, tears still flowing freely and unbroken.

"I should have been here." His voice quivered as his emotions swayed between a state of anguish and fury.

*"...Hey, Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her under your skin

Then you'll begin to make it better,

better, better, better, better..."*

"I'm gonna find Dean, Cas...and we're gonna fix this. I swear." Sam said to Cas.

And although Castiel didn't hear what Sam said, someone else did.

Castiel opened his eyes.

Much the same as being born, a bright blinding light was all he comprehend for a moment.

As his eyes adjusted, he discerned that he was outside. It was a remarkable sight-so beautiful that he hadn't noticed his mouth hanging open.

Cas was standing in a flat, bright green pasture; the sun looked to be at high noon shining bright, and the many trees and flowers were in bloom.

Birds were singing, and the sky above was blue and cloudless. He felt like he was standing in a painting.

Behind him about a quarter of a mile stood an old, sturdy looking farm house. Looking to the East, there was nothing but taller green grass and the edge of densely covered woods.

He paused admiring the scenery. He remembered what had happened with Dean. Putting his hands on his stomach and looking down at his torso, he saw that his wounds were gone and his clothes like brand new. Cas felt of his face-no cuts, bruises, or blood. It was like his beating and untimely end hadn't happened.

But something wasn't right. Cas knew he should be dead. He recalled what dying felt like, his heartbeat had slowed down then ceased, and had endured his Grace and soul being torn from his human vessel.

He knew that Dean killed him, but that he wasn't himself when he did it. More significantly, Castiel felt no anger...he could still feel his love for Dean, and was only grateful that he got to tell him.

Just then coming from the West, Cas heard a voice calling his name.

"Cas! Over here!"

Cas squinted at the sun in his eyes, and could make out a figure, a man-waving to him across the field, and he could see he was wearing some kind of a white suit with a mask that covered his face. The man was standing underneath a massive Oak tree, in front of a large rectangular box.

Cas started walking in the man's direction.

"Hurry up! I don't have all day, ya know." The man called as Cas quickened his pace, cautiously closing the distance across the field between himself and the strange man.

"His voice...I know him." Cas thought.

With the giant Oak close enough to block the sun's blinding rays, Castiel could see that the man wasn't wearing just any kind of suit-he was wearing a beekeeper's suit. The box in front of him was a large beehive, buzzing with life.

Cas was within feet of the man now, and could only stare at him, watching him collect honeycomb after honeycomb.

"Aren't you gonna ask who I am? Or why you're here?" The man asked, concentrating on his work at hand.

Cas licked his lips, knowing he must be crazy.

"You're the Prophet...Chuck. Chuck Shurley..." Cas said. "...but-but why are you here? Why are we here?"

His identity exposed, the man gracefully removed his mask. It was indeed the Prophet Chuck Shurley.

"You ask a lot of questions, Castiel. You always have, though." Chuck replied.

Cas looked down at the grass beneath his feet. "You-you aren't a Prophet, are you?" He asked.

Chuck laughed. "Again with the questions!" He smiled at Cas.

"No, Castiel. You catch on quick...I'm not a Prophet, no." Chuck said, trailing off, getting distracted by the task of closing the door to the beehive.

"Then, what-or who-are you?" Castiel dared to ask.

Chuck latched the door shut and stood up straight.

"I'm God." He replied, and simply smiled. When Castiel didn't say anything out of sheer shock, Chuck (God) continued.

"I know, I know...I had you fooled for a long time there, didn't I?" He chuckled.
"Truth is, I just really loved being...human. It's refreshing, ya know?"

Cas tilted his head in acknowledgement and awe.

Chuck went on. "I mean...humans are-well, they're complicated. But let me tell you-they are determined. They're passionate. They're kind. I mean, I can't believe I made them!"

Chuck gestured at the beehive and shook his head in wonder. "And bees, they're so...incredible! Ya know, without bees, Earth couldn't exist. They're much more than meets the eye."

Cas wondered where He was going with this. He wanted to ask Him if Dean was okay, and why he was here. But this was God; he didn't want to disrespect Him.

"I know that expression, Cas." Chuck said as he studied Cas's face.
"You're sad...I get it. And I know you're wondering what all of this means."

Castiel nodded, deciding to ask his question while Chuck had paused.

"Can you tell me...is Dean alright?" Cas asked.

Chuck broke his gaze with Cas. "No, he's not Cas. I won't lie to you."

Cas closed his eyes in distress and hung his head.

"You really do love him, don't you?"

Looking up at Chuck again Castiel smiled sadly and answered him.
"Yes...I do."

Chuck nodded in approval, with a knowing smile on his face.

"You know, this isn't the first time we've met here Castiel." Chuck said.

Cas gazed at Him with questioning eyes. "What do you mean?"

Chuck sighed. "We've been down this road before. Don't you remember Lucifer imploding you into a billion molecules? I feel like you'd remember something like that..."

"Yes-I certainly remember." Cas replied stoically. "You fixed me, you put me back together."

Chuck smiled and gaped at the sky without worry. "I did, didn't I?" He began tinkering with his beehive again, as if he'd forgotten Cas was there.

Determined for answers, Cas asked another question. "Please Chu-God...why am I here? What's the point to all of this?"

Chuck raised His hand in protest smiling. "Please...just call me Chuck. I prefer that name. It's less intense, if you know what I mean."

Cas nodded in reply, shuffling his feet in the grass. Chuck turned and began to remove his gloves and outer beekeeper's suit.

"Do you wanna know what happened the first time I tried out beekeeping?" Chuck asked over his shoulder in a laugh.

Castiel had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. This was pointless, he was getting nowhere. He grew agitated at Chuck's carefree attitude. Dean wasn't alright, and he was dead-or something like that.

"Don't roll your eyes, Cas. I promise I have a point." Chuck said, his back turned to Cas as he stepped out of his suit, revealing a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt that seemed much too plain for a God to be wearing.

Cas stiffened in surprise. "I-I'm sorry. Please continue."

Chuck turned to him and cleared His throat. "Anyways, as I was saying. The first time I tried my hand at beekeeping was a disaster! I wound up covered head to toe in bee stings. I'm not kidding, it wasn't pretty!" He chuckled.

"Anyhow, look at me now; I think I'm pretty good at it!" He grinned.

Cas tried to smile back, but couldn't find the heart to.

Chuck's grin faded and He went on. "My point here is Cas, I had to keep trying until I got it right. What's that old saying? 'Try, try again'." His eyes met with Castiel's.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm not following you..." Cas trailed off in query.

Chuck sighed and put His hands on His hips, stepping forward to Cas.

"Cas, you need to try again. Go back to the start, back to the beginning," Chuck stated. "Sometimes you just need a clean slate."

Castiel's full attention was won now, and he gazed at Chuck wanting Him to elaborate.

Chuck cleared His throat. "See, I've learned a couple things from being 'human'..." He held up his finger. "...Number one: never mix your liquors-it'll be a bad time if you do. Number two: sometimes, just sometimes...it's alright to ask for help." Chuck paused.

"And that's what you did, remember? You prayed to me, Cas. And I want to help you, I do...if you'll let me."

Castiel was confused. "How can you help me? I'm dead, am I not?" He asked matter-of-factly.

Chuck spoke again. "Well, yes and no. You're more in 'limbo' than you are actually dead. But, I'm going to help you, Cas. Only because I believe everyone has a destiny-and the Winchesters-Dean, is your's."

Castiel's heart pounded in anticipation. "What do you need to me to do?" He asked.

Chuck shook His head side to side with a happy grin on His face.

"Nothing. I have faith in you. Just try your best, Cas." Chuck sighed. "As the saying goes: 'Try, try again'."

With that, Chuck's hand landed on his shoulder, and it all disappeared. The field, the bees, even Chuck had vanished.

Castiel was standing outside again now, but somewhere, some time completely different. He looked around him, and could see a few select makeshift grave markings in the ground. All the grass was dead, and a circle of trees demolished down to their roots surrounded him like a nuclear bomb had been detonated.

He knew this place, and he knew what date it was.

Cas was standing where he'd risen Dean from Hell, where he had been buried by Bobby and Sam after the Hell Hounds drug him down to the pit.

A mix of emotions flooded over Cas like a wave; he was getting another chance. Finally for once, his cries for help were answered.

His brain was foggy from whatever Chuck had just done to get him here, but he could hear voices. Castiel smiled, because they weren't just any voices; he was hearing 'Angel Radio'.

Through the muffled sounds of the thousands of Angels he was hearing, he closed his eyes to focus, trying to make out what they were saying.

The brightest of smiles, one of relief and love spread across Castiel's face as he heard the Angels talking: "Dean Winchester is saved."