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Chapter Three

For the first time in a long time, Dean slept without nightmares. When he woke, he didn't immediately understand what was different. It took a few minutes for him to work out that the something missing was the pounding pain of a hangover that had been his constant morning companion for too long to think about. He stretched and yawned, looking blearily at the clock on the wall. It was early still, just past seven, the earliest he had been awake for a while if you discounted the nights he hadn't slept at all.

He eased himself to the side of the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. It felt like there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't remember what. He got to his feet and ambled over to the kitchenette, thinking of making himself a pot of coffee, when he noticed a folded sheet of paper resting against a mug.

Good morning, Deano. Bobby has plenty of coffee, so stop dragging your heels and get your ass into that gas guzzler of a car. We're waiting for you. G.

Memories of the previous night swam through his mind and he groaned. Gabriel had been there, and Dean had agreed to go to Bobby's. The thought of it made him want to climb back into bed again to hide. If not for the fact he was worried something had happened to Bobby, he would have. Instead, he shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. He'd fallen asleep fully clothed, so he didn't have to bother dressing. He could shower at Bobby's, drama permitting. He wondered what had happened that was bad enough for an archangel to come looking for him. Knowing he wasn't going to get any answers kicking his heels, he grabbed his duffel and headed out to the car.

The motel he'd holed up in was in Watertown, a couple of hours out from Sioux Falls. He was glad of the distance as it would allow him some time to gather his thoughts. He dumped his duffel on the back seat, setting it beside Sam's. He still toted it around the country with him, as if he was hoping Sam would return one day and demand his stuff. It was a foolish hope, but Dean was often foolish these days.

As always, when he climbed in behind the wheel, his eyes slid sideways to the empty shotgun seat. Shaking off the pang of regret the sight gave him, he put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine rumbled to life, vibrating the seat slightly. He didn't bother to turn on the radio. His love of music was one of the things he had shed along with a conscience over the last couple of years. That was the old Dean, and against his better judgment, he was about to introduce Bobby to the new one.

The drive didn't last nearly long enough. All too soon he was driving through the boundaries of Bobby's salvage yard. He steered the Impala through the stacks of junkers toward the house.

It could have been any other day visiting Bobby—nothing looked like it had changed—but it was not any other day. This was Dean's return after two years self-exile. He pulled up beside the house, and rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this or if he would ever be ready. The only thing that kept him from turning the car around and driving away was the years' accumulated debt of support and affection for the man that lived inside.

They must have heard his approach, the Impala was not quiet, but to their credit no one came out to meet him. They were giving him time to come to them, and he was grateful for it. After a minute's contemplation he opened the door and climbed out of the car. On leaden feet he walked to the porch and up the steps, trying to bat away memories of the last time he was here and the way he had acted. He got to the door and raised a fist to knock and then he paused. Was he really going to do this? The answer was an easy yes. No matter how much he had changed and how little he wanted to be here, he owed Bobby.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

Bobby must have been waiting on the other side of the door, as no sooner than Dean knocked, the door swung open and Dean was faced with the grizzled hunter.

All Dean's trepidation in coming back here was because of the way he'd changed over the last two years; he hadn't taken into account the fact that Bobby would change, too. Bobby was his constant in life. No matter what happened, Bobby was the same old, cantankerous man he always was. He had changed though. There were physical differences, a few more lines around the eyes and more grey hairs creeping out from under his cap than before, but there was a tightness around the mouth and a glint in his eyes that spoke of other changes.

Dean had all of a few seconds to catalogue these changes before Bobby's face softened and he threw his arms wide. Stepping forward, he caught Dean in a tight embrace. Dean felt all the walls and hardness he had developed over the last two years tearing away, and he was brought back to the heartbroken man he had been when he was last here—a week after his brother removed himself from his life forever. He felt raw and exposed, and he wished for the walls to come back up before he lost control of himself completely and cried.

"Damn, boy, it's good to see you," Bobby said in a choked voice. He released him and stepped back, gripping Dean's shoulders as if he expected him to run if he didn't hold onto him. It wasn't an irrational fear. Now that Dean saw that Bobby was physically okay, he wanted to get out of there.

"You too," he said quietly.

Bobby's eyes raked over him from head to toe. "You look like hell."

Dean huffed a laugh though there was no real amusement to be had. "Thanks."

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on in. We've been waiting for you."

He walked into the house, and after taking a calming breath, Dean followed.

Inside the house, little had changed. There were still stacks of books spread about the place and there was still that unidentifiable musty scent. The desk was piled with papers and books and a half empty bottle of whiskey. On the kitchen table there was a newspaper and a cooling mug of coffee. The one thing out of place in the room was the presence of two angels. Dean had expected Gabriel—it was because of him that Dean was here after all—but he hadn't expected Castiel. He supposed it was stupid of him to have expected Castiel to abandon Bobby just because he had.

Dean stopped in his tracks at in the arch between kitchen and study and looked at Castiel who shifted, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Then he looked Dean in the eye, and suddenly, Dean was the one that was uncomfortable. It felt like the angel was seeing right through him, tallying every dissolute thing he had done since they had last seen each other and judging him for it. He broke the moment by looking down at his feet and rallying for control of his unruly emotions.

"So," Gabriel said, clapping his hands, "now our guest of honor has arrived, we can get to the important business of the day."

The atmosphere in the room changed palpably and everyone tensed.

"What's been happening?" Dean asked.

"More than you can imagine," Gabriel said. "And you missed it all." He fixed Dean with an accusatory stare.

"It's too late to change that now," Bobby interjected. "Let's get down to what actually matters here."

Gabriel frowned. "You don't think he should know what's been happening while he's been drowning in self pity?"

Bobby shook his head curtly. "No."

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off.

"Tell me what I've missed. I want to know."

Bobby looked disappointed, but Gabriel smiled. "Well, you should be on bended knee right now, thanking my brother and Bobby for taking up the reins while you were off wallowing. Thanks to them, there is a world for you to wallow in."

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at Bobby. "Another apocalypse?" Though his tone was calm, inside he was reeling.

"Technically," Bobby said. "Less of the end of the world, and more of the end of humanity. We went up against some high and mighty that called herself the Mother of All."

"Mother of what?" Dean asked.

"Mother of All," Castiel said quietly, as if he expected Dean to attack him if he drew attention to his presence. "She was the creator of all the monsters you have spent a lifetime fighting. She was working towards creating a paradise for monsters on earth."

Dean exhaled in a rush. "But she's dealt with?"

Gabriel clucked his tongue. "No thanks to you."

"Yeah, yeah, I screwed up," Dean said bitterly. "Get to the good stuff. This 'Mother of all' is gone now, right?"

"She is," Bobby said. "We took her out a few weeks ago."

"So what's the problem?" Dean asked.

"What's the problem!" Gabriel's voice rose to a shout. "You arrogant asshole! The problem is that your friends almost died to take care of it. They had to shimmy back in time and almost got stuck there, but none of that matters to you. I guess. Mr. Dean I-just-want-my-brother-back Winchester had more important things going on. How many times did Bobby call you and you ignore him? How many voicemails from your friend did you delete?"

Dean bristled angrily. "That's for me and Bobby to talk over. It has nothing to do with you, Gabriel. You obviously dragged me back here for a reason, so get it over with and tell me what it is."

Though Dean tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but notice how Bobby looked down at the floor as he spoke. He guessed it was the mention of how he had been dragged back. There was no hiding it though; he wouldn't be here if not for Gabriel's impromptu arrival.

"Things are happening," Bobby said. "There's a new monster out there, a big scary one that's targeting hunters. I needed to know you were safe."

"That's why he called you back," Gabriel said. "I, on the other hand, don't care if you're safe. I just want you to do your job."

Dean ignored him completely and turned to Bobby. "Tell me about the new fugly."

Bobby turned to Gabriel. "You want to fill him in on the angels and demons side of the story."

Gabriel sighed dramatically. "Okay. Here's the thing. After Lucifer took his dive into the cage, there was uproar in Heaven. Before I returned, there were two archangels running things, Michael and Raphael. They were both working towards a solid goal—the battle between Michael and Lucifer."

"And the resulting apocalypse," Dean said angrily.

Gabriel ignored him. "After dear Luci took the dive, things got a little heated up there. There was no more battle. Boy, Michael was pissed. Raphael and Michael fought, not epic end of the world fighting, an archangel slap fight if you will. They both wanted to rule over the other. Michael was the prime candidate, as the eldest, but Raphael had a lot of support. Heaven was divided, and Raphael came to earth."

"He fell?" Dean asked. "Like Lucifer did?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No. He followed in my footsteps and went into witness protection, or at least I thought he did. There was no sign of him for over a year. Michael ruled Heaven and all was good for a while. What we didn't know was that, while he was hiding, Raphael was plotting. He was in league with a demon by the name of Crowley."

"Crowley?" Dean said. "What would an archangel want with a crossroads demon."

"They made a deal," Gabriel said simply. "And he's not so much a crossroads demon now as he is King of Hell. Apparently, since Lucifer went back into the cage he stopped caring about the day to day running of Hell, leaving a vacuum in the hierarchy of the place. Crowley stepped up."

"You're telling me that Crowley, the limey bastard that sent me after Lucifer with a gun that didn't work, is the new Devil?"

Gabriel shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Pretty much. None of that is really important anymore. What matters is the deal."

Dean pulled a seat from beside the table and sat down, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Tell me about the deal then."

"Well, Raphael knew that he would never win a fair fight against Michael. He didn't want to be cast out as Lucifer was, so he made his deal with Crowley. Between them, the goal was to open the gate to Purgatory and split the souls fifty-fifty."

"Purgatory is the place where monsters' souls go after death," Bobby said seeing Dean's confusion. "Like heaven for fuglys."

"Anyhoo, they had to find Purgatory first, which meant they were tracking down alphas and torturing the location out of them." Gabriel sighed heavily as Dean opened his mouth to ask a question. "An alpha is the first of its kind—the first vampire, the first skinwalker. You get the idea?"

Dean nodded. "So, I'm guessing they found Purgatory."

"Indeed they did, and they cracked it open like punching a hole in plasterboard. Raphael didn't play fair though. He didn't ante up fifty-percent of the souls, or even forty. He kept them all for himself. He absorbed every soul on offer, and summarily exploded Michael."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. "You telling me Michael's dead."

Gabriel nodded somberly.

Dean jumped to his feet and punched the air. "Hell yeah!" he shouted. "Ding-dong, the dick is dead."

One moment Dean was looking around the room, grinning, and the next he was pinned against the wall with Gabriel's hand around his throat.

"That's my family you're talking about!" Gabriel said through gritted teeth.

Dean nodded as much as he was able to given his predicament, not betraying any fear. "Yeah, and your family is the reason mine is in Hell. Your dick brother forced Lucifer to take that dive."

Gabriel smiled cruelly. "True. But no one made Sam follow. It must burn you to know he cared more for Lucifer after only a few months of his company that you after a lifetime."

Dean clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ground together. Gabriel had hit him where he was most raw, and the archangel knew it.

"Now, now," Bobby said stepping forward. "I don't care who's an archangel, you're in my house, and when you're in my house, you don't go attacking each other."

Gabriel released Dean and looked at Bobby. "I apologize."

Bobby nodded to him. "You want to finish your story or shall I take it up?"

"I can do it," Gabriel said. "So, with Michael dead, Raphael was ruling Heaven, chock full of souls. He liked the power they gave him over humans and angels, and he flaunted it. Unfortunately, he didn't take into account the way the souls were affecting him. On one of his jaunts through earth, the souls overpowered him, and he perished."

"So both Raphael and Michael are dead?" Dean asked, trying to keep any of his happiness from his tone. He didn't want to be pinned to a wall again.

Gabriel bowed his head. "They are."

"The problem," Bobby said carefully, "is that when Raphael… uh… exploded he released a bunch of fuglys into the world. It's these fuglys that are attacking hunters. They're called Leviathans."

"What's a Leviathan?" Dean asked.

"A badass monster," Bobby said. "So far we've had no luck taking them out. I've shot one full of silver pellets at point-blank range, and the thing grinned and kept on coming. We've not found any way to hurt them even a little."

Gabriel looked up and his smile had returned. "So here we are. Up against something even I have never seen before, and without a clue how to kill it."

"And you called me back, why?" Dean asked.

"I told you, I wanted you safe," Bobby said.

"And I told you, I don't care," Gabriel said. "What I do want however is for you to amp up that killing streak of your and take out the nasties."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Dean asked. "You just said you've not found a way of hurting them. What can I do?"

Gabriel tutted and leaned against the wall. "How did you kill Azazel? How did you go up against Lucifer with The Colt? How did you beat down every other fugly you have ever come against? You put your mind to it and you do it. I don't know if you even realize the power you have Dean. You're a human. You should be insignificant, but you're not. Somehow you come out on top every time, and I need you to put that insane luck to the test again. You need to come up with a way to win for us, because we're all out of ideas."

Dean laughed. He laughed so hard his gut ached and tears ran down his face. He vaguely heard Castiel asking Bobby if he was okay, which just made him laugh harder than before. What did they expect him to do, magic an answer out of his butt? They were all missing one salient fact.

"It's not me you want," he said, choking himself to calm again. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not some kind of lucky charm for defeating monsters. I'm just Dean."

"But you're not," Gabriel said. "You have done it before."

Dean wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffed loudly. "You're wrong. I'm not that person, not anymore. Maybe I was once, but now I'm missing something vital. Someone."

Gabriel tilted his head to the side. "Your brother?"

Dean nodded. "I can't do any of those things alone. Sam is the one you need. He's the reason I was able to do any of that stuff."

"So, if you had your brother back, you would be able to help us?"

"We would," Dean said. "We work as a team. That's how it's always been. But unless you're telling me you can bring Sam back…" He shrugged. "I may as well go back to my motel."

Gabriel huffed. "You want your brother back, you can have him back, you dumbass."

Dean merely looked at him blankly.

"You have the rings still, don't you?"

Dean nodded. They were in his pocket, where they had been for the last two years. The last physical thing his brother had touched.

"Then let's go get him back." Gabriel said.


So… We're on the way now. Things are happening for Dean, and soon, for Sam and Lucifer, too.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx