The eight years since that night had not been the easiest for Dean. He closed himself off from both Sammy and Bobby, prone to angry outbursts and challenging authority. Shortly after the burial of his childhood sweetheart and much to Bobby Singer's dismay, Dean decided to join his father in the family business.
It was then that his father told him the truth behind Mary Winchester's death. A demon, and not just any demon. Azazel, a powerful yellow-eyed demon. According to legend; he was creating an army of enhanced children to help him bring Hell on Earth.
Demons weren't the only things that Dean and his father hunted. They had successfully destroyed a nest of vampires outside of Houston, Texas, stopped a shapeshifter in Bend, Oregon, even pumped a werewolf full of silver in Bangor, Maine.
The thrill of the hunt was something Dean had craved. It cured the dull ache in his chest, saving people. He couldn't explain it to his dad, but to him, it was something he knew Cas would want him to do.
Throughout the time, Sammy was eventually brought into the family secret, proving to be a vital tool as he was extremely book smart and patient - A trait that neither John, nor Dean shared with him. But his heart wasn't in the hunting of monsters. He wanted to make something of himself, become a lawyer, live a normal life. It was a fact that had caused a falling out with both his father and brother.
That was until John went missing and Dean ran to Sammy to help. Even now as much as Dean loves that Sam has his six when they are on a case, he regrets having to pull him from school. Dean wishes more than anything that he could give his little brother a normal life. Not a life where your mom died because of a demon, a life that same demon kills the girl you want to marry or even one where you have demon blood.
If Dean could do things over he would. He would make sure Sammy got the life he deserved, the life he wanted. He didn't give a damn about what happened to himself. After he failed to protect one person he loved, he made it his life's mission to protect his brother.
"You sure about this, Dean?" Sammy asked from the passenger seat besides him, bringing him back from his memories.
"We have to know what brought me back, Sammy." Dean sighed, rolling his shoulders, trying to loosen the stiff muscles in his neck. "You don't just get ripped out of Hell with your soul intact."
"Besides you saw those demons in the diner. They were spooked." They were surrounded by them and none of them made a move on either brother. It was as if something had kept them from advancing even after Dean threw the first punch, or five.
"Yeah…" Sam trailed off looking at the neighborhood they were driving through.
Dean followed an old Pontiac as Bobby Singer pulled over. He had told the boys he knew a powerful psychic that might be able to help them out. Dean still couldn't believe he was back on solid ground. Everything indicates that he died four months ago. He can still remember the feeling as the Hellhounds mauled him to death.
For him, it hadn't been four months. It felt more like forty years. For the majority of that time he was tortured as all souls are in Hell, only it ending once he agreed to become the torturer. The worst part is he enjoyed it.
"Come on, boys," Bobby called out as he started towards the house.
Pamela Benson just explained how she wasn't able to get information from her cards or Ouija board so they were going to do a seance. Dean tried his best to keep his face emotionless, but he didn't believe in psychics. It was ironic considering what Sam and he did on a daily basis. He believed in all the things that go bump in the night. He believed in witches and zombies; but two things he never did trust or believe in: Psychics and Angels.
The four of them sat at her round table. Pamela insisted that they hold hands and that she needed to touch something of whom they were making contact. Dean raised the sleeve of his left arm, revealing the angry raised red hand print. He could hear Sammy suck air in through his teeth in shock from his right. Dean didn't dare look at his baby brother, only keeping his eyes trained on the base of the candlesticks and their contrast to the black cloth adorned with the silver demon trap.
As Pamela began, demanding that the owner of the mark makes themselves known, Dean follows suit and shuts his eyes, trying to concentrate and not find the whole situation a joke. He knew from all the spells that he had done while hunting that remaining focused was key.
His patience didn't last long is it forced his left eye to peek.
"Castiel?" she asked, making contact before raising her eyebrow. "Oh no Castiel, I don't scare easy," Pamela said in a cocky tone.
"Castiel?" Dean asked.
"His name," she responded. "He's warning me to turn back." Just as she said that, the TV behind her turned on. Anything that wasn't tacked down began to shake.
Dean had a bad feeling. He had experienced this at the Gas and Stop before. Just as he was about to tell her to stop, the flame of the candles erupted, shooting higher in the air. Pamela was thrown back as the windows blew out.
Dean jumped up as Bobby shouted for Sam to call for help.
Pamela had been blinded by the sheer force of whatever it was they were conjuring and Dean knew, whatever it was, it was worse than anything they've dealt with before.
Dean let out a frustrated breath as he twirled the demon blade in his hands.
"Are you sure you did the spell right?"
"Boy, I've been doing theses things when you were in diapers," Bobby shot back, a tone of uncertainty in his voice.
Dean looked around the barn. Various religious icons and protection sigils painted on every surface.
A loud crash interrupted the quiet night from outside, making Dean jump from where he sat. He grabbed the sawed off shotgun loaded with rock salt.
The sheet metal roof started lifting and turning, banging itself onto the barns frame. The lights over head explode on their own as if their electrical current was too much for their bulbs to bear. The doors broke open and a well dressed man starts to enter.
Demon, Dean thought as he fired his first round right into the man's chest. Bobby following suit. Each man pumping two rounds each of rock salt into the suit's chest but he seems unphased, his eyes trained on Dean.
The man stops in front of Dean, strong jaw set as electric blue eyes stare at him. Dean, uncomfortable with his closeness, grabs the knife and starts a dance of sorts, trying to keep out of the stranger's reach. This doesn't deter the newcomer as he follows Dean around in a circle.
"Who are you?" Dean finally asked.
"I'm the one that gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition," he said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"Yeah. Thanks for that," Dean responds bitterly. The man in the trench coats gives a little smile and nod to acknowledge Dean's less than grateful thanks.
Dean strikes, plunging the demon blade into the man's chest. Looking back, Dean sees that smile is a little bigger in amusement of his actions. The intruder, tilts his head to the side as he pulls the blade out and drops it unceremoniously to the ground, blue eyes locked onto green.
Panic seizes Dean. What is he? His mind races, thinking of all the creatures in the lore that he's encountered over the years. He looks at Bobby, hoping the grumpy old bastard has a trick up his sleeve. Bobby comes behind the intruder with a crowbar, hoping the steel metal rod will bring this monster down a peg.
Without looking, the man raises his hand and blocks Bobby's swing. He turns to the man wearing the baseball cap and flannel and gently presses two fingers to his head, not letting go of the crowbar until Bobby is safely on the ground.
What the hell is going on?! Dean screams internally but can only sit there with wide eyes.
The intruder turns to him. Broad blues eyes stare at him again. "We need to talk, Dean," he says before glancing down at Bobby unconscious form. He raises his eyes to Dean again. "Alone,." he adds.
The man moves to the table that they had used to perform the ritual and Dean rushes to Bobby's side. The stress of the events getting him and making his breathing labored as he checks the pulse of the man he considered more of a father than his own.
"Your friend is alive," the stranger says calmly as he turns the pages of a journal.
Dean looks at him. "Who are you?"
"Castiel," he responds simply, not looking at Dean.
"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?" Dean is officially over the games. He just wants answers.
This piques Castiel's interest as he slowly looks over at Dean. His eyebrows knit together with confusion at the anger he's sensing from Dean's soul.
"I'm an Angel of the Lord." he says calmly, holding Dean's gaze.
Dean's eyes falter as he remembers his mother's voice, a soft whisper in his ears, or a memory most likely. Angels are watching over you.
Slowly, Dean gets up. The urge to punch Castiel getting stronger with each passing moment. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."
Castiel turns to face him, a sad smile on his lips. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."
Dean wonders why should he have faith, when over and over again he had been screwed by God. Why would he believe in Angels or what Castiel has to say when he didn't even believe in God?
Dean jumps slightly as a thunderhead cracks outside, lighting brightens the barn and Castiel starts to straighten to his full height. As lightning flashes, Dean starts to see the truth. A black shadow behind Castiel starts to show the outline of wings. Slowly the black mass stretches out, revealing the full mass of the Angel's wing before the unbelieving human.
The lightning stops and all Dean can do is nod. His world once again being flipped upside down.
Angels are dicks, Dean thinks as images of Pamela surface to the front of his mind. "Some angel you are," he says bitterly. "You burned out that poor woman's eyes."
Castiel hangs his head in shame. Remorse rolling over him. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be-" He lifts his eyes back to Dean, who violently bites down on his cheek. The blue of the angels eyes haunting him. "-Overwhelming to Humans and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."
"You mean the gas station and the motel?" Dean remembers the way anything with glass blew out of both the Gas and Stop and hotel. The way the ringing in his ears made them bleed. "That was you talking?"
Castiel nods in affirmation.
"Buddy, next time, lower the volume." Dean couldn't help the sarcasm.
"That was my mistake." Castiel looks truly sorry, his eyes wide, asking for forgiveness. "Certain people - special people - can perceive my true visage. I thought that you would be one of them. I was wrong."
Dean's eyes narrow at him, wondering why he would think such a thing. "And what visage are you in now, huh? What, a holy tax accountant?"
"This?" Castiel asks, adjusting his khaki colored trench coat. "This is a vessel."
"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean's disgust was almost palpable.
"He's a devout man," Castiel explains, remembering when he found Jimmy Novak on his knees in his front yard. "He actually prayed for this."
"Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling," Dean responds narrowing his eyes at Castiel. "So who are you really?"
Again Castiel's eyebrows knit together in confusion, his head slightly tilting, not understanding why Dean wasn't listening. "I told you."
"Right," Dean says then asks, challenging Castiel, "and why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"
Now it was starting to make sense to Castiel. "Good things do happen, Dean."
"Not in my experience."
"What's the matter?" Castiel asks. Suddenly his expression changes from confusion to understanding. There it was. The pain, loneliness, self hatred, self doubt; all of it screaming from Dean's soul, infecting Castiel's mind with a strange familiarity. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."
Dean sucks in a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure, as the truth of Castiel's statement washes over him. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, wanting to get to the heart of the matter.
Castiel's composure changed. Rigid and stiff, like that of a solider. "Because God commanded it." He said simply as the voices of other angels rang in Castiel's ears. "Because we have work for you."
Dean Winchester is saved.
Dean Winchester is alive.
Our fight can begin.
We must ready Michael.
Of all the things the angels were chanting in Castiel's mind, the one that rang the loudest was Dean Winchester had been saved.
It was by Castiel's own hand that Dean now walked amongst the Earth, a renewed man and soul. He was commanded by God to raise Dean from the very pits of Hell, and bring the Righteous man back to Earth. After meeting with Dean, Castiel did not understand how this man, full of doubt and hatred, could be the one that is needed to stop the apocalypse.
Despite the humans flaws, it was obvious why he was considered the righteous man, the one to help aide Michael in his battle against Lucifer. For all his hate and anger the need to protect, the need to save sang loudly when faced in a situation.
Even as Castiel watched Dean, Sam, and Bobby battle against the witnesses, he could see why his Father had sent him to Dean. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt as if there was more to why he was assigned to prepare this human to battle. Something about the man, made Castiel feel a strange pull to him.
"It's your bond, Castiel." Castiel turns to the voice to see a woman with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was dressed in a grey wool pant suit and leaned against the wall.
"Naomi, please," Castiel admonished. He knew of what she was speaking. Once an angel goes into the deepest blackest bowels of Hell to save a soul, there is a bond between the two. This event has rarely occurred. In fact, Castiel can't recall when the last soul was saved from Hell; but he was well versed in what happens with this bond.
"We must prepare him for Michael. You are to watch over him. Keep him alive." Naomi stated, bringing Castiel from his thoughts.
"I understand," Castiel nodded.
"Do not mess this up again, Castiel."
Castiel leans against the kitchen sink in Bobby Singer's home. From where he stands he can see the sleeping form of Dean on the floor in the next room. Regardless of how uncomfortable or how much Dean would regret it later, he would put Sam before himself.
Castiel softly flutters his wings as he pushes them back into a non corporeal plane, trying not to disturb the human. As he listens to the breathing and heartbeats from the next room, he knows his intention was flawed.
He watches Dean roll over and push himself up on this his arms, looking for the noise that disturbs his slumber. He's green eyes meet with Castiel's blue, before looking back to check on Sam.
Castiel waits patiently, knowing that above all, Dean must know that his little brother is okay. Dean slowly walks towards Castiel, pulling his shirt down that had exposed a sliver of skin about the waistline of his jeans.
"Excellent job with the witnesses," Castiel praises. He was impressed with how the trio had been able to deal with the vengeful spirits of ones they could not save on their hunts and how quickly Dean reacted with the final part of the ritual when Bobby was in danger.
Anger and betrayal flash in Dean's eyes. "You were hip to all that?"
"I was-" Castiel was starting to feel uncomfortable under Dean's gaze. He clears his throat before continuing. "-uh, made aware."
"Well that's a lot for the angelic assistance," Dean spat. "You know, I almost got my," Dean points to where it lay beating, "heart ripped out of my chest."
"But you didn't," Castiel pointed out.
"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings. Halos." Castiel rolled his eyes at the common misconception. "You know, not dicks." Dean finishes.
"Read the Bible," Castiel says simply, amused at the look of shock on Dean's face. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."
"Yeah, well then why didn't you fight?" Dean asks, sounding an awful lot like a rebellious teen sassing the angel.
"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder," Castiel responds with disdain as his eyes narrow at the human before him. "We had larger concerns."
Dean questions him. Again the the guarded look flashes in the human's eyes as he listens to Castiel's responses. Castiel waits patiently for Dean to finish his tirade, only to stop when he questions if there is a God.
"There is a God!" Castiel snaps defensively.
"Yeah, well, I'm not convinced." Castiel takes a deep breath and looks down at the fading linoleum beneath his feet. "'Cause if there is a God, where the Hell is he, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the Earth? The freaking apocalypse?"
Castiel can feel the anger rolling off Dean as he asked these questions. A part of him is screaming "blasphemy" at the human, but another part, a part he can't put his finger on, understands.
"At what point," Dean continues, "does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"
"The Lord works-"
Dean cuts the angel off, threatening to kick his ass. Castiel holds his hands up as if to surrender, keeping his eyes off the human so he won't see the humor he feels at the threat given. He watches Dean as he approaches, asking if Bobby was right when he had said the rising of the witnesses was just the beginning of the apocalypse.
Castiel looks to Dean. "That's why we're here. Big things afoot."
"Do I wanna know what kind of things?" Dean asks.
"I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know." He can tell Dean is relaxing a bit to his words. Castiel understands, while he may be a soldier for the Lord, Dean is a soldier in his own right as well.
Castiel goes on to explain how this was just the first of what is known as the 66 seals. 66 seals to break open the gates of Hell. Dean makes a crack about SeaWorld, a reference Castiel does not understand, but continues to inform Dean. He explains that Lilith, the same demon that they were trying to kill prior to Dean being sent to Hell, was the one to conjure the witnesses, purposely sending them against hunters knowing that they would be impacted by their inability to save them the first time.
"Think of the seals as locks on a door," Castiel explains.
Dean folds his arms across his chest. "Okay, you pop open the last one and what?"
Castiel turns to him, moving closer so Dean can understand the seriousness of his answer. "Lucifer walks free."
Dean is dumbfounded. Castiel watches him process the information. Again confusion and disbelief hit those green eyes before the words do.
"But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told demon Sunday School."
"Three days ago, you there was no such thing as me." Castiel countered with a smirk. Why do you think we're here, walking amongst you now for the first time in two thousand years?" Castiel asks, but even as he does, it feels as if he is lying to Dean, he feels as if this has happened sooner than that.
"To stop Lucifer," Dean says softly as everything starts to make sense. Castiel nods. Dean makes a retort about how they have done a great job so far. Indicating that the way they handled the witnesses was proof of their failure.
Castiel can't help the anger he feels as he informs Dean that this is not the last battle, that they will be triumphant. He tells Dean that he has lost six of his brethren just in the past week.
Castiel moves to stand in front of Dean, a mere twelve inches separates the human from the angel. He can hear Dean's pulse race, the jade orbs taking in every curve and line of Castiel's face.
"You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around," Castiel states with acid on his tongue. "There's a bigger picture here." He leans closer as Dean tried to look anywhere but at the angel's face.
"You should show me some respect." This makes Dean look at him, a challenge in his eyes. "I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in." And with that warning, Castiel leaves Dean alone in Bobby Singer's kitchen.
Dean went on doing what he does working alongside Sam. Castiel rarely made an appearance into Dean's life, having to deal with other things, but he always kept his eyes on the human. The bond that was created when he brought Dean's soul back had made sure Dean was at the very front of Castiel's mind.
One particular time Castiel left his post was when he noticed Sam had left his brother alone. Dean had been asleep, locked in the memories of his torture in Hell. He would whimper and shake as he relived being skinned like a potato. He'd cry out for help, a sound that made Castiel hurt from somewhere inside. When Castiel sat on the mattress, Dean startled awake. Looking over his shoulder at the angel with wide panic set eyes.
"What were you dreaming about, Dean?" he asked, unsure of how to provide comfort to the human in his distress.
It wasn't until Castiel had used his powers to send Dean back into 1973 and see the truth of his family lineage, did he feel as a comfort to Dean in a time of need.
Castiel came to Dean and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. Dean, who was looking at his young mother and father as his grandfather laid beside them dead, turns with wide eyes full of unshed tears. The angel knew he felt that he had failed. He had failed to prevent his mother making the deal with yellow-eyed demon and even said as much. Castiel assured him that this was destiny. It was a fact Dean did not want to hear.
Dean, of course, had told Sam about the Angel, Castiel, seeming to believe that for whatever reason, Castiel was not making his presence known to Sam. Sam was in awe as his older brother retold the meetings that he had had with him. Dean could see the hero worship in his brother's eyes, knowing that out of the two Winchesters, Sam prayed at night and believed in God and angels.
This is why when Castiel made an appearance to both brothers on Halloween as they worked a case involving the raising of Samhain, Dean was not shocked at Sam's floundering over the man in the trench coat.
"Hello, Sam," Castiel said once Dean explained who he was.
"Oh my God," Sam said awestruck. "Er, uh, I didn't mean to- sorry." He immediately apologized for using God's name in front of an angel. Dean just looked at his brother like he was embarrassed to be near such a 'fangirl.'
"It's an honor," Sam continues. "Really, I-I've heard a lot about you."
Castiel looks down at Sam's offered hand. Unsure what this gesture means. His eyes flash to Dean, standing behind his brother who gives him a slight nod.
Castiel grasps the offered hand and allows Sam to take over the motions. "And I, you," Castiel says. "Sam Winchester -" he places his other hand over their clasped hands, something about the green eyes staring back at him in awe seems familiar - "The boy with the demon blood." Sam looks at him as if he's been slapped. "Glad to hear you've ceased your extracurricular activities."
Sam had teamed up with a demon, Ruby, and started to use some of the telekinetic powers to exorcise demons. He felt that it was better, safer for the humans who had been possessed as the demon blade would kill not only the demon, but the vessel.
It was Castiel that had informed Dean of these activities. Dean didn't want to believe that even now Ruby still had a hold on his brother, until he saw it for himself.
Castiel can sense Dean's approval as the other angel, Uriel, makes his presence known. Threatening to destroy the town full of innocent people, just to get to one witch. Not that he blames Dean, Castiel found it very unfortunate that his superiors felt to assign him a partner that did not care what could be done to spare the creation of man.
When Dean stood up to Uriel, daring him to smite the town while the righteous man is there, Castiel felt proud of the human. Showing just how right it was to bring him back from Hell. When Uriel tried to protest, Castiel stopped him. He knew there would be repercussions for these actions later, but for now, he had faith in Dean to do what was needed to prevent this particular seal from being opened.
Castiel stands in a park with Uriel after the meeting with the Winchesters. "The decision's been made," he says as orders are confirmed from Heaven to let the Winchesters prove their worth.
Uriel laughs bitterly. "By a mud monkey."
Castiel balls his fists behind his back at the derogatory remark towards the humans. "You shouldn't call them that." He admonishes as a group of children walk by in costumes. Castiel can't help the twitch of a smile as a little girl walks by, dressed in an angel costume with white feathery wings and a shiny gold halo.
Fluffy wings. Halos. Dean's voice rings in his ears.
"Oh, that's what they are -" Uriel's tone acidic as he motions to the group ahead of them - "Savages, just plumbing on two legs."
Castiel can feel his anger rising at Uriel's words, his eyes narrow at his brother. "You're close to blasphemy," he warns.
Uriel sighs and sits on the bench near them.
"There's a reason we were sent to save him. He has potential." Castiel explains. "He may succeed here." He sighs and joins his brother on the bench. "At any rate," he pauses, trying to find the words he's looking for. "It's out of our hands." He clasps his hand together, elbows resting on his knees to place his chin upon his hands. Amusement in his eyes as he watches the children frolic.
"It doesn't have to be."
"And what would you suggest?" Castiel can't believe that he is entertaining any of Uriel's notions.
"That we drag Dean Winchester out of here, then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map."
Castiel cannot believe what he is hearing. How could his brother be so spiteful? To harm the humans of this town without a second thought. They were ordered to ensure Michael's true vessel was unharmed, to protect the eldest of the Winchesters at all costs.
"You know our true orders," Castiel bit out, trying to calm the war raging inside. He looked at Uriel. "Are you prepared to disobey?" he challenged as his brother sucked in an angry breath.
Once again, the brothers had shown that they could get the job done. This is not to say there weren't any hiccups along the way. Sam had used the demon blood within himself to exorcise Samahin, going against not only Dean's wishes but the warning from Castiel.
While Dean sat at the park, he was torn. A part of him wanted to believe that his brother had done his creepy demon blood work because he had no other choice. The other part of him ,however, wondered if it truly could have been avoided.
As always, Castiel watched the older brother from afar, deciding how much he could truly tell him about the purpose for being brought back from Hell. He could sense the human's unease, his worry, and his doubt.
A sound close to that of wings fluttering brought Dean out of his thoughts. He could see the Angel in the dirty trenchcoat sitting on the bench beside him from the corner of his eye. Dean thought that he was there to judge him. To rub it in his face that Sam went against him. Again.
"I am not here to judge you, Dean," Castiel informed him. When Dean questioned why he was there Castiel went to explain. "Our orders-"
"Yeah, you know," Dean interrupted the Angel, "I've had about enough of these orders of yours." His impatience clear in his tone.
"Our orders," Castiel repeated in a clipped tone, "were not to stop the summoning of Samhain," he turned his head to look at Dean. "They were to do whatever you told us to do."
Judging by Dean's body language, he could sense that he didn't trust his words.
"It was a test," he continued after Dean asked for clarification. "To see how you would perform under," he paused, "battlefield conditions, you might say" Castiel broke eye contact from Dean's untrusting green eyes to stare out amongst the human children that were playing on the odd shaped metal structure ahead.
"It was a witch," Dean smiled a bit. "Not that offensive." Castiel couldn't help his chuckle at Dean's modesty and truth in his words
"So, I, uh, failed your test?" Dean asked. Strangely as he stumbled to ask that question, he didn't feel disappointed. If anything, Dean felt a sense of pride, confidence. "But you know what," Dean continued, his shoulders squaring, more sure of himself. "If you were to wave that magic time traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call," he explained, eyes narrowing at Castiel.
The Angel nods, encouraging Dean to continue, curious to how the righteous man thinks.
"See, I don't know what is gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don't know what is gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is that this here-" he gestures to the children playing before them,"- these kids, the swings, the trees. All of it, is still here because of my brother and me." He looks at the Angel, who seems to be absorbing his words, full of conviction.
"You misunderstand me, Dean. I know how you think." Castiel brings his eyes to Dean's. "I was praying that you would choose to save the town." Dean lifts his eyebrow in question to this and Castiel continues, "these people…" he leaves his thoughts hanging in the air as he tries to word his thoughts in a way that the human would understand. "They're all my Father's creations," he looks out to the children again. "They're works of art. And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal has been broken and we are one step closer to Hell on Earth for all creation. And that's not an expression, Dean."
Dean took a shuddering breath as Castiel's warning seeps into his mind.
"It's literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means." Dean looks down as the memories of his time in Hell flash through his mind. The pain and confusion still as fresh as if it were happening to him with each word the Angel spoke. He couldn't imagine Sam going through that same torture. He couldn't let that happen to his brother.
Castiel watched the pain flash in Dean's eyes. He wondered if he was being too hard on him. If he had gone to far with his charge, revealed too much. Finding a desperate need to end the suffering.
"Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"
"Okay," Dean responds, surprised that an Angel would have secrets.
"I'm not uh…" Castiel looks down at his clasped hands, trying to find the vernacular he has often heard Dean use. "A hammer, as you say. I have questions. I," he pauses, unsure if he can actually voice his own discretions. Castiel quickly looks at Dean who is watching him with guarded eyes.
"I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore," he admits. He makes eye contact again so that Dean can see the truth in his eyes. "And whether you passed or failed here." It's at this that Dean breaks their eye contact, disappointment obvious in the young man's face as he looks at the ground.
"But," Castiel continues, "in the coming months you will have more decisions to make."
Dean looks back at Castiel, silently asking with his eyes for more information but not willing to interrupt.
He shakes his head. "I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean," he says honestly. "I truly don't."
Dean looks away again. What could he possibly mean about having to make more decisions? He already had a burden that no one his age should have to bear. He turns to ask Castiel questions but sees that the Angel was gone.
Time moves on for the Winchesters as they work together to continue to prevent the seals from being open. They have their fair share challenges, a fallen angel, who had chosen to fall. A siren whose form of the perfect man - for Dean this was someone who knew about cars, shared his love and passion for classic rock and whiskey - manipulated both the brothers into killing each other. Luckily Bobby was there in the nick of time to save them both.
Amongst their travels they were visited by Castiel with Uriel on his tail. Uriel made Dean's blood boil. The darked skinned Angel made it known that he did not care for humans, let alone the Winchesters. Every time Dean had the itch to knock him on his ass, he would remind himself that not all the angels where this way.
Much to Dean's dismay, he had told Sam the truth about his time in Hell. Expressed to him how he could still feel them skin, peel and fillet him, only to piece him back together so that they could start again. He explained to Sam how this went on for what felt like thirty years until he broke, agreeing to Alistair's wishes to torture the souls in the way Dean was.
Dean hated that he enjoyed it. Hated that for him, those ten years being Alistair's bitch was a release from the pain and torture. Sure Dean was into occasional spanking, biting, and hair pulling during sex, but this - the pleasure he got from torture, was just fucking sadistic.
And now, once again, he's face to face with both Castiel and Uriel. They had just gotten back from Pamela's funeral, who sadly had died while helping the brothers on their last case. Uriel, in his usual way, managed to push a button that had Dean on the attack. Dean was sick and tired of Uriel disrespecting him, treating him as if he was his bitch.
Dean Winchester was no one's bitch.
Castiel stood off to the side, behind Uriel, silently watching the exchange. When Dean looked in his direction, Castiel could feel himself recoil from the anger in his green eyes. He could tell that Uriel was reaching the end of the proverbial rope with Dean when he sneered at the human to show some gratitude for being brought back.
"Dean," Castiel interjected, wanting to keep his brother from harming the man, "we know this is difficult to understand."
Dean looked at Castiel challenging him as if to say, "Do you really?"
"And we," Uriel's eyes narrowed to Castiel. His newly appointed power radiating off of the Angel, warning Castiel not to cross him again before he looked back at Dean. "Dont. Care," he seethed.
Castiel clenched his jaw in anger. This was a newly found emotion for his current vessel, which felt strongly familiar. He looked straight ahead, keeping his eyes on the wood paneled walls.
This motion didn't go unnoticed by Dean. He watched the muscles in Castiel's jaw flex with each passing second. The way his hands, which hung loosely at his sides in the oversized trench coat would ball into fists.
Finally Uriel got down to business explaining to the Hunters that several of the Angels from their Garrison were slaughtered, the most recent a sister, had happened just hours previous their arrival to the dive motel room.
Dean's first thoughts were demons. After all, who else would be the bad guys in a war in good versus evil, when allegedly - and Dean this this only because he still believed Angels are dicks - the good guys are the angels.
Finally Sam spoke up, not understanding how they were going to help handle a demon that could take down angels.
"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," Uriel answered, clearly not as grateful as he wanted them to believe.
"Once we find out whoever it is," Castiel added with a scowl at his brother.
Dean could tell there was something more than what the Angels were telling them. The way Castiel was acting, while yes, still dickish, was not in the way Dean was accustomed too.
That's when Castiel dropped the other shoe on him. "We have Alastair," he informed them. "But he won't talk. His will is very strong." He moved himself from the wall to stand closer. "We've arrived at an impasse."
Dean wasn't surprised about that one bit. The things he saw Alastair do in Hell, he knew that the Angels were out of their league. He even voiced this to them.
"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel enlightened, his dark brown eyes narrowing in on Dean. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got," his displeasure of the whole situation was evident in his tone.
Dean looked down at his hands, now gripping the back of his chair with such force that his knuckles were white. He was struggling within himself, wanting to believe that they wouldn't be asking him what he thought they were asking. Especially not Castiel. Not the Angel who had gone to Hell personally and removed him from that nightmare.
"Dean," Castiel's voice was pleading. "You're our best hope."
"No," Dean responded quickly. He looked up at Castiel to see the confusion in his blue eyes. "No way," he repeated. "You can't ask me to do this, Cas," he clenched his jaw, the internal battle within wanting to let him scream his rage. "Not this."
Uriel chuckled darkly, the sound of it making the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand on end in a warning. "Who said anything about asking?" the Angel said smugly.
The thinly veiled threat was not missed by the Winchesters as the brothers looked to each other but in a blink, Sam was gone.
Uriel and Castiel had transported Dean to an abandoned warehouse where they had stored his tormentor. He was now looking at Alastair bound and trapped by an Enochian - the script of angels - spell. Castiel assured Dean that Alastair was bound and could not move, but that did not help him.
The nightmares that have haunted him since he was topside played like an old movie reel starring him and the demon before him. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't do what the Angels were asking him. He started heading for the door, telling celestial beings that he won't do it. Uriel stopped him. Dean was beyond over his attitude and looked back at Castiel, hoping he would understand what he was asking Dean to do.
"You can't make me do this."
"This is too much to ask. I know," Castiel agreed as he approached Dean, "but we have to ask it."
Dean looked at the man in front of him, studying him. He could see that this was eating Castiel up as much as him. Dean's resolve broke and he quickly looked to Uriel. "I want to talk to Cas alone," Dean demanded.
Uriel agreed, saying something about seeking revelation. Dean responded about getting donuts, his usual mask of sarcasm in place to hide what he was truly feeling.
Once Uriel left Dean looked at Castiel. "You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby."
Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion over Dean's need to use sarcasm with him. "You know I'm starting to think dickless has a better sense of humor than you do." There it is again.
"Uriel's the funniest angel in the Garrison. Ask anyone," Castiel advised, clearly not understanding Dean.
Dean shook his head slightly, moving closer to the Angel. "What's going on, Cas," he asked. "Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"
Castiel was afraid that he had noticed the change in ranks and sighed softly. "My superiors have begun to question my sympathies."
"Your sympathies?"
Castiel looked away before speaking. "I was getting too close to the humans in my charge." He then looked pointedly at Dean. "You." He watched as something clicked in Dean's mind. "They feel I've begun to express emotions, the doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement."
Dean watched as Castiel shifted uncomfortably before him, avoiding eye contact. Castiel has a problem. He likes you. Words that Uriel had told him previously rang through his head.
"Yeah, well, you tell Uriel or whoever," Dean's voice cracked enough for Castiel to hear as he took in a ragged breath. "You do not want me doing this, trust me," the hunter said, watching Alastair from the window in the door.
"Want it?" Castiel asked. "No, but I've been told we need it." An overwhelming feeling of regret washing over him. This was the last thing he would ever want for Dean. It would break him.
Dean's eyes burn as hot tears start to fill his eyes. He bites his cheek hard, willing himself not to show Castiel just how scared he really is.
"You ask me to open that door and walk through it," he paused when his breathing hitches, trying to regain his composure. "You will not like what walks back out."
"For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this." Castiel's words where the final push Dean needed as he swallows thickly and makes his decision and proves that there is someone on his side.
A/N: I do not own any of the characters from Supernatural. I just love them okay. Seriously though, if you've seen season 4 some of the dialogue may seem familiar. This is where the "some cannon" comes into play.
Thanks again to LinsAdair for being my beta. I love you hun!