AN: Thanks so much to those who reviewed/favorited/followed! Warning, tears ahead.

Do You Recall

XXIV: City of the Angels

Similar to a hunter's funeral, Pamela's was small. Maybe ten people at most. A few "coworkers," so to speak—fellow psychics she'd known as friends, Bobby, the Winchesters, Elena, and Pam's grandmother. Closed casket. They each gave Meredith Barnes their respects for her granddaughter and laid down a rose.

For the first time since she was fourteen, Elena prayed. Silently, but she did. She prayed to God or whoever was running the show that Pam was in a better place than this shithole.

I'm sorry I never got the chance to say I'm sorry, she thought. And I'm sorry I couldn't stop this.

It was her fault, after all. She made a stupid, stupid mistake, and it got Pam killed. It almost got both of them killed.

Tears would inevitably fall, but she let Dean pull her against him and lead her to the car when the service was over.

Sam took over behind the wheel for his brother, who was beyond the point of exhaustion. Elena was too, but her body wouldn't allow her to sleep with how the car bounced on the gravel road.

"Ruby said she'd meet us just outside of Cheyenne, said she's got some leads," said Sam. Dean made a noncommittal sound.

"Look, I know she's not exactly on your Christmas list, but if she can help us get to Lilith—"

"Man, work with Ruby or don't, I don't really give a rat's ass," said Dean.

"What's your problem?" Sam asked. Elena could've scoffed, but it wouldn't be worth the effort.

"Pamela didn't want anything to do with this, Sam, and we dragged her back in."

"She knew what was at stake."

"Yeah, stopping 'the end of the world,'" Dean shook his head. Elena's words from the night before echoed in his head. "And we're doing such a good job of it."

Sam sighed.

"Dean—"

"I'm tired of burying friends, Sam."

"…Look, we catch a fresh trail—"

"And we follow it, I know." Dean glanced out the window and watched the night fly by. "I don't know, I'm just tired, that's all."

Sam gave his brother a hard look.

"Well get angry."

That pissed Elena off a bit.

"We've got a job to do, is that it?" she said. "Just 'shrug' it off?"

"No," said Sam, catching her heated stare in the rearview. "So her death won't be for nothing."

They stopped at the motel of the night with duffel bags heavy on their shoulders. But just a few more steps would bring them to more or less soft beds.

That wasn't what greeted them when Dean turned on the light, though.

"Oh great," he groaned. Uriel stood in front of them, arms crossed, while Castiel leaned against the far wall.

"Winchester, Winchester, and…not Winchester," Uriel greeted, though the snark in his tone was evident. "You are needed."

"We just got back from 'needed!'" Dean tossed his bag away in sheer frustration.

"You mind your tone with me," the angel warned.

"No. You mind your damn done with us," Dean growled, and it took Sam and Elena on either side to stop him from stalking forward.

"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam explained while holding out a placating hand.

"Pamela. You know, psychic Pamela?" said Dean. "Cas, you remember her, you burned her eyes out."

Castiel looked over at Dean with something akin to a frown. Elena studied his face, and though usually unreadable, she saw discomfort there. As if he'd rather not be here talking to them. Why, she didn't know, but if she were a betting woman (which she was), she'd put money on it being about what they were "needed" for.

"Remember that?" Dean continued. "Good times. Then she died saving one of your precious seals. So maybe you could stop pushing us around like chess pieces, for five fucking minutes!"

Uriel remained impassive, but his self-satisfied expression made Elena silently seethe as well as sick to her stomach.

"We raised you out of Hell for our purposes," he said smoothly. Dean cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah, what were those again?" he asked. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Start with gratitude."

Elena glanced up and saw Dean's jaw clench, his whole body tense in preparation to throw a swing. So she subtly took his balled fist in her hand. After a moment, his relaxed enough to thread his fingers with hers. But she knew he was one more snide comment away from losing the tenuous grip he had on his temper.

"Dean, I know this is difficult to understand," Cas began. It seemed as if he was trying to diffuse the situation, but Uriel just kept pushing it.

"And we don't care," he finished. The look on Castiel's face said otherwise, and Elena knew Dean caught it. Which was probably the only reason why he hadn't completely snapped.

"Seven angels from the garrison have been murdered," said Uriel. "The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" Dean asked. The angel nodded. "How're they doin' it?"

"We don't know."

"I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it?" Sam asked. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels is a bit out of our league, right?"

"We can handle the demons," Uriel said, very matter-of-factly.

"Once we find whoever it is," Castiel added.

"So you need our help…hunting a demon?" Dean asked.

"Not quite…we have Alastair."

"Great. He should be able to name your triggerman."

"But he won't talk," said Cas. "Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an…impasse."

Dean's smile was wry.

"Yeah well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league."

"That's why we've come to his student," said Uriel. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

Elena's chest seized along with her grip on Dean's hand. His responded by tightening on hers.

"Dean," Castiel implored, "You're our only hope."

"No," Dean refused. Point blank. "No way…you can't ask me to do this, Cas…not this."

Uriel shook his head, smirked and stepped towards Dean, leaning forward.

"Who said anything…about asking?"

Elena looked up at Dean in alarm, but her eyes only met Sam's. She gasped and realized her hand was empty.

Dean was gone, and so were the angels.

"Damn it!" Sam exclaimed, gritting his teeth.

"Sam." Elena's voice was choked as a weight fell in the pit of her stomach. They looked to one another.

"What the hell do we do?" she asked. His expression hardened.

"We find him."

So the bastard was tied and up to his eyeballs in magic symbols. Fine. But no demon or angel was getting him to do this. As far as he was concerned, both Junkless and Cas could kiss his ass.

"This is too much to ask," said Castiel, "I know. But we have to ask it."

Dean nodded and turned toward Uriel.

"I want to talk to Cas alone."

After a moment, the angel replied, "I think I'll go seek Revelation…for further orders."

Dean allowed a somewhat cocky grin to mask his unease.

"Well get some donuts while you're out."

To his surprise, Uriel laughed aloud.

"This one just won't quit, will he?" he asked with a smile. "I think I'm starting to like you, boy."

Dean blinked, and the angel was gone. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Castiel.

"You guys don't walk enough. You're gunna get flabby."

The remaining angel was silent.

"You know," said Dean, "I'm starting to think Junkless has a better sense of humor than you do."

"Uriel is the funniest angel in the garrison," Castiel replied. "Ask anyone."

Dean sighed. Right to the point then.

"What's going on, Cas?" he asked. "Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"

"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies."

"Your sympathies?"

Castiel leveled him with a look.

"I was getting too close to the humans in my charge…you," he said. "They feel I've begun to express emotions. Doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment."

The angel turned away from the hunter. His words sounded like direct quotes.

Looking back, Dean saw how the angels might get that idea. He supposed Cas had taken a chance in more ways than one. Most recently being how he'd healed Elena. Dean still wasn't sure if Castiel did it out of "sympathy," or if it was some ploy to get Dean on the literal side of the angels when they eventually came to him for help. Today, for instance.

"Well, tell Uriel or whoever," he said, walking past Castiel and toward that door. Just the look of it was bringing on anxiety. Unwanted memories flashed to the surface, and it was all he could do to stuff it down.

"You do not want me doing this, trust me."

"Want it, no," said Castiel. "But I have been told we need it."

She couldn't concentrate on the words that kept blurring on the page. Even the pictures etched in deep black lines and scribbles seemed to float right off, not forming correctly in her vision.

"There's nothing," Sam said, "Nothing. Unbelievable."

Elena bit her lip. She could feel a headache coming on and pressed at the bridge of her nose, as if that could relieve the pressure.

"We could summon them well enough, but tracing them…"

"I can't find anything," Elena admitted. Her shoulders sagged with the helplessness she felt. Every time Dean needed her—really needed her—she couldn't do a damn thing. Not one damn thing.

"Fuck this," Sam muttered and pulled out his cell phone. That earned Elena's attention.

"Sam…who are you calling?" The sinking feeling in her stomach at the way he glanced over at her told her that she already knew the answer.

"I called her earlier and left a message," he said, and raised the phone to his ear once he was finished dialing. "If she got it—"

"Ruby. You're calling Ruby," Elena clarified. "She have some kind of angel GPS or something?"

Sam didn't answer, just kept waiting on the line.

"You know, you're a good liar," she nodded. Her hands went to her hips. "Too bad I've learned to tell when Winchesters are trying to pull a fast one."

His gaze remained on the far wall, but Elena stepped into his line of vision with her arms crossed.

"Fine. We can 'not talk' about what's going with you later, but I doubt Ruby is going to have the answers—"

"You don't know that," Sam cut her off. "Look, we don't have the time or the options to argue about this—Ruby, hey."

Elena silently seethed as she watched him talk to the demon presumably on the other line and give her the gist of what was happening.

"You know what you have to do."

Sam gave Elena a cursory glance.

"I know," he said, though he didn't know how he was going to get her to go along with it, after what she'd already seen. "We'll meet you."

He snapped the phone off, and Elena regarded him with raised brows.

"We're meeting her."

"Lena—"

"I didn't know this was a unanimous vote."

"Look—"

"No," she said firmly, pinning him with a glare. "You look. I don't know if you remember, but a demon killed my father. I'm not about to trust any of them as far as I can shoot them with the fucking Colt."

Sam's tight expression suddenly turned to surprise as he tensed and reached out for her.

"Elena!"

Her eyes widened, but she was too slow to turn around.

"You ask me to walk to that door, and go through it," Dean said, his hands shaking, "You won't like what comes back out."

"Calculated risks." Dean heard Uriel's voice and immediately tensed in frustration.

"I told you I wanted—" The words died on his lips when he saw her. Her wide gray eyes were afraid until she saw him.

"Dean." Relief colored her tone. She would've moved toward him, if not for the hand gripping her shoulder.

"Let her go," he demanded.

"This isn't necessary," Castiel said at the same time.

"I think it is," Uriel said, his smirk firmly in place. Dean almost smiled at how Elena's fear was replaced by an angry glower toward the angel, but Dean's icy glare deepened when Uriel grabbed her by the hair, an instance of pain showing on her face as she reached up to grab the angel's wrist. "A little incentive goes a long way."

"You're an asshole," she ground out. Uriel's glanced down at her with a bored expression.

"And you should shut up."

"Hey," Dean barked, finally getting Uriel's attention. "You gunna make me repeat myself?"

The corner of Uriel's mouth quirked upwards.

"Sure, you can have her," he said. "When you do your job."

"You don't have to worry about that."

Uriel seemed to study Dean's face for a moment before a chuckle accompanied his slow smirk.

"See, Castiel?" He let go of Elena and sent her stumbling forward without deigning to touch her. "Such simple creatures. It makes it too easy."

Dean caught her and did a quick once-over to make sure she was all right, then put himself between her and Uriel. He rattled off a list of what he would need and suggested Uriel get it if he wanted Dean to get started. Uriel's smirk only deepened, but he did leave to fulfill the request. Once the angel was gone, Dean rounded on the other one.

"So this was the plan? I don't come quietly and you threaten me?" he said, first in anger, then in suspicion. "…Is that why you saved her, to use her as leverage when you needed it?"

"That was not my intention—"

"But it didn't hurt, did it?" Elena spoke up and stepped from behind Dean. Her voice was quieter than his, but the accusation and mistrust was obvious in her terse expression.

"No," said Castiel, after a pause. "That was never my motivation."

His blue gaze clashed with hard grey. For all angels were terribly powerful beings, Cas didn't seem to know how to lie very well. The subtle shift in his eyes that usually indicated his discomfort…wasn't there.

"Hmm." Dean's look was wry as he shrugged, earning Castiel's attention. "Looks like we're not the only ones being played, then."

It was a tense moment before Uriel returned with a cart that he slid over to Dean.

"I believe that's everything."

He looked down at the various instruments while fighting to look impassive. Elena, on the other hand, stared at the knives, holy water, and other more unfamiliar tools with a mounting rate of panic. Dean looked up at Uriel coolly.

"If you think I'm leaving her in here with you, find another prosecutor."

Elena was getting sick of the sound of that angel's self-satisfied chuckle.

"I trust you have this well in hand, Castiel," he said, meeting Castiel's gaze expectantly. "I suppose I'll seek Revelation after all."

"Do me a favor and stay there," Dean got in one more biting remark before the angel disappeared. Elena was visibly relieved, but when she looked up at him it was with worry.

"Dean—" He grasped her upper arms and met her gaze firmly.

"Stay away from the door, no matter what you hear."

"Dean," she shook her head incredulously. Did he seriously think she would be okay with him doing this?

But the fact that he didn't have a choice fell heavily on her. Intentions or otherwise, Castiel would not allow them to leave. He had his orders.

"I mean it, Elena."

He was coiled so tightly, she saw it in the tenseness of his jaw and the sharpness of his eyes trained on hers.

He would do this, even if it broke him in the end. If he could be that strong, then she refused to cry.

Dean nodded, reading the understanding on her face, and surprised her with a hard kiss that was still somewhat tender. Not a goodbye, but something akin to it. Just in case she didn't recognize the man that came out afterwards.

"Wait for me," he said, when she held him to her with a hand at the back of his neck. Somehow, those words did little to comfort her this time. But despite herself, she nodded.

"Be careful."

It was his turn to nod, but he pulled away her hand and forced himself to walk away from her. He took the time to examine each of the tools on the cart and made sure he had everything, including Ruby's knife, before pushing the cart toward the door. Castiel watched and not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he truly felt conflicted.

"For what it's worth," he trailed. His tone remained void of emotion, but there was an earnestness in it. Sincerity. "I would give anything…not to have you do this."

He couldn't see Dean's expression, but he could sense the man's inner turmoil. He felt when Dean chose to shove it all down as far as it would go and hold onto the only emotion that would allow him to step into that room. His hate for the demon.

When the screams started Elena had to remind herself they weren't Dean's. But that just made it worse. She closed her eyes but drew the line at covering her ears as she sat on the metal table in the center of the room. She refused to appear weak, even in the angel's presence. Castiel stood like a monument leaning against the wall, and every once in a while he would glance at her, watching her reactions.

"It was not my intention to bring you here," he said eventually, "for this reason."

"…Wow," she somewhat drawled. "Angels are capable of guilt, then."

That silenced him, but she really didn't particularly care for his shitty attempt at an apology.

"I understand how this will affect him."

"Have you ever been human, Castiel?"

Again, his silence was answer enough.

"You might think you understand what he went through, what it's costing him to do this," she continued with a shaky sigh. "But you really, really don't."

Not even she understood. Not fully. Never in her life had she been to Hell. She hadn't even been tortured physically before, let alone…

But it was one of her fears.

"Do you feel guilt?" Castiel's question took her off guard. His curiosity only thinly veiled his own inner conflict. She looked away from his probing look, like he could see through her if he wanted too.

Goddamn angels.

"Sam, my uncle…we all tried to save him," Elena restrained a sigh. "But we couldn't get him out of the deal."

If they had just found Lilith in time, Dean would never have died.

"There was very little you could have done."

"Don't you try to console me," she snapped. Maybe she was being ungrateful. He did get Dean out of the pit, journeyed through Hell to get to him. But he only did it to bring in a new recruit—another soldier they could command to clean up their messes. Castiel saved her. Why, she didn't know.

But he let Pam die.

"Saying 'there was nothing you could do' is a copout," she added. "You always have a choice."

"Even if that decision is futile?" Castiel questioned knowingly.

"Dean would probably tell you the point is you making the choice."

The sound of the demon's screaming broke Elena's concentration, bringing it to the door she was so tempted to peek inside.

"Tell me something," she said, though her attention remained at the door. Castiel was quiet, but she knew he was listening. "Why not Pam?"

"I…don't under—"

"Why me and not Pamela?" She hopped off the table and turned to him angrily, eyes flashing. "If you're so sympathetic, why couldn't you take ten seconds and—oh, I don't know—heal the woman you blinded and bled out for your fucking seal?"

The angel stared at her somewhat blankly at the sudden onslaught, but his conflict was beginning to emerge. His lack of an answer was pissing her off though. It might have been Elena's fault that the demon got to Pam, but the angel deliberately chose to do nothing, or simply didn't think she was worth the effort, even with all the power in the world. That was enough to make Elena wish she was strong enough to knock an angel's lights out.

"Nothing to say?" she asked incredulously. "You usually have a bullshit answer for everything."

Just as Castiel opened his mouth to respond, the white artificial lights dimmed and flickered. Immediately Elena was on guard, especially when one of the lights short circuited and blew out.

"Anna," Cas sighed, and glanced over his shoulder at the red-haired angel.

"Hello, Castiel." Her voice was smooth as she casually stood before them. She acknowledged the other wide-eyed woman with a ghost of a smile and a slight nod. "Elena."

"Um…hey," she replied uncertainly. Last time she'd seen Anna was in a cosmic flash of light from her grace that probably vaporized her human body. "You look…good."

"Your human body," Castiel trailed, though it didn't sound as if he was very surprised.

"Was destroyed," Anna acknowledged and drew closer to them. "But I guess I'm sentimental. Called in some old favors."

"You shouldn't be here," Cas said with another sigh, though he kept his back to her. "We still have orders to kill you."

"Somehow, I don't think you'll try."

She made her way around him to stand in his line of vision, though her focus was the door. It once again caught Elena's attention as well.

"Where's Uriel?" asked Anna.

"He went to receive Revelation."

"…Right." She nodded minutely and turned to face him. "Why are you letting Dean do this?"

Castiel hesitated, knowing Elena's eyes were on him now along with Anna's. He moved away from both of them with his hands in his pockets.

"He's doing God's work."

"Torturing?" she asked. "That's God's work?"

Anna shook her head while Elena watched Castiel, waiting for his reactions. Maybe she couldn't get through to him, but perhaps another angel could.

"Stop him, Cas. Please, before you ruin the one real weapon you have."

Before Elena could interject that Dean wasn't their weapon, Castiel spoke firmly.

"Who are we to question the will of God?"

"Unless this isn't His will."

"Then where do the orders come from?"

"I don't know," Anna admitted, though it sounded to Elena like she knew. "One of our superiors, maybe. But not Him."

Finally, Castiel turned to her at such a bold, thinly veiled accusation against one of their own. She stepped closer to him and met his aloof gaze with her own.

"The Father you love, you think He wants this? You think He'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous?"

The screams they could hear coming from the other room only served to punctuate her words. He closed his eyes and leaned the palm of his hand on the table.

"What you're feeling?" said Anna, "It's called doubt."

She boldly touched his hand with hers, and his eyes opened, filled with uncertainty at her actions and what she was telling him.

"These orders are wrong, and you know it. But you can do the right thing," she continued. "You're afraid, Cas. I was too. But together, we can—"

"Together," Castiel interrupted, and abruptly pulled his hand away from her. "I am nothing like you. You fell! Go."

"Cas…" Her eyes were pleading, but he only glared at her.

"Go."

Elena blinked, and Anna was gone. Where Castiel was once stern and unyielding, now he once again looked uncertain.

"You're one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?" she said. He glanced up at her, annoyance showing in his features and the set of his shoulders, until crashing sounds coming from the next room made him pause. Something wasn't right.

Elena caught the change and looked to him in alarm.

"What—"

He disappeared before her eyes, and suddenly she could hear struggle cease in the other room. That didn't stop her from going to the door and opening it as fast as she could, and going to Dean when she recovered from her shock at seeing him prone on the floor, bloody and unconscious. She inclined his head from the cement floor while Castiel fought off Alastair.

How he got free wasn't important now. What was important was Dean bleeding from cuts and bruises on his face and how his breathing was labored. The fact that he was breathing at all calmed her panic, but when Alastair spoke, it sent chills up her spine.

"I really wish I knew how to kill you, but all I can do is…send you back to Heaven."

Elena whipped around to see the demon holding Castiel against the wall, as if the angel were stuck there, though he struggled. He bled from his mouth and from a blow to the head. When Alastair began reciting an incantation that had Cas's eyes glowing white, his grace beginning to pour out of his vessel, Elena was forced to make a decision.

She gently laid Dean back down and ran to the cart, grabbing the first knife she saw. It wasn't Ruby's knife, but the holy water she dumped onto both sides was searing enough into the demon's spine that his attention was drawn away from the angel.

"Oh," he drawled, rolling his shoulders. "How cute."

Though it didn't help Elena when he elbowed her in the throat and backhanded her hard, causing her to stumble backwards into the cart. Its contents spilled over to the side and onto her on its way to the floor, the clanging metal ringing in her ears as the door was once again thrown open. She didn't hear it. But she did hear Alastair as he stepped into her line of sight.

"Hello, doll face. I don't think we properly met last time." The demon started towards her slowly. "But I've seen that pretty face before…so many times."

"What?" she asked weakly. Everything was still hazy in her disoriented state, and she was pretty sure some of those tools hit her on the head.

"Dean didn't mention our little…escapades down under, did he?" asked Alastair. "Oh, I had a lot of fun. He did too, after a while…here, I'll show you—"

And then she watched with wide eyes as her blurred, unfocused vision settled on Sam. He stood in front of her with his arm held out. Alastair was forced against the wall by an unseen force, angry and muttering obscenities. It was a few seconds before her muddled thoughts cleared enough to realize it was Sam that was controlling the demon. He spared her a look, and she didn't like what she saw in his eyes. They were wild, though his stance was confident in the power he wielded.

"Help Dean," he directed. Elena wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing. But right now, Dean's life was more important.

"Who's murdering the angels?" she heard Sam ask. Her back was turned away from it all as she returned to Dean's side, smoothing her hand against his bloody cheek after she made sure of his pulse.

"Dean? Dean, hey." She tapped his cheek lightly but persistently. His breathing was still labored, and it was only then she noticed the red marks on his neck right under his chin.

"You think I'm gunna tell you anything?" Alastair chuckled at Sam.

"Yeah, I do," came the dark reply.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. The demon definitely tried to crush his windpipe. And from the knot on the back of his head, he probably had another concussion. Elena struggled to support Dean's heavy torso against her without jostling him too badly, but if for a brief moment, he woke coughing and gasping at the intense pain in his chest and abdomen.

"Easy, easy," she breathed, rubbing his chest with a soothing hand. She ignored the demon's agonized sounds and Sam's interrogation. "You're gunna be okay. We're getting out of here."

"Al'stair…" he managed to choke out.

Elena risked looking back over her shoulder and watched the demon reveal that it wasn't Lilith killing the angels.

"It's okay." For the first time, she lied to him. It was instinctive, and she regretted it the moment just after it came out, but she did anyway. Because Dean didn't need to worry into injuring himself further by trying to stop his brother from doing something they both knew couldn't be stopped.

"Cas is handling it."

Dean's eyes grew confused, though he didn't have the energy to see for himself. He lost consciousness again, and Elena no longer had him to distract her from what was going on behind her.

"Go ahead. Send me back," the demon spat. "…If you can."

Another chill coursed through her at the cold, superior look on Sam's face.

"I'm stronger than that now," he said. "Now I can kill."

Elena watched in muted horror. Not at Alastair as he died, but at Sam as he killed him. When it was over, she glanced at Castiel and saw what was probably her mirrored reaction. She leaned away when Sam approached. He must've seen the stark fear on her face because he backed up and forced his expression to soften, though it did naturally when he looked down at Dean.

"He needs a hospital," she said, hating the tremor in her voice. Sam nodded and got down to help carry his brother.

"Let's go."

The car ride was painfully silent. The ER wasn't, only because of all the commotion happening around them as the medics carted Dean in. Sam and Elena waited as he filled out his brother's medical information, beside one another, but the wall was evident. They were shown to Dean's room hours later and sat in chairs on either side of the bed. The monitors and the IV drip were the only sounds that broke the silence.

Dean had multiple lacerations, three fractured ribs (one broken) that were making it hard for him to breathe, and a concussion, not to mention the black eye or other cuts and bruises. It was painfully hard for both of them to watch, but still neither spoke. Elena did take Dean's hand in hers on the bed, brushing her fingers over his scratched knuckles.

She'd been there, standing just outside the door, and she couldn't do anything to prevent this? She'd been just outside the room. If it had been Sam, or Bobby, she couldn't help but think they would've spent less time arguing with angels and more time paying attention to what was happening inside that room.

Maybe Dad was right.

Elena's grip on Dean's hand tightened fractionally, but she calmed herself by focusing on the mechanical noises coming from the heart monitor. His was still beating strong, getting stronger by the hour.

Both she and Sam did see when Castiel stopped briefly at the door, then kept walking. Sam's expression hardened, his anger breaching the surface, and he got up out of his chair to follow the angel. Elena stayed. No matter how angry she was, she was also too exhausted to pick another fight. She could hear them though, and hated how she agreed with Sam despite not even wanting to look at him, let alone be near him. He did exactly what both Dean and the angels warned him not to do, and he didn't care.

It saved Dean, reason reminded her. Still. How the hell did he do it?

He woke up two days later. She was getting coffee when it happened. With the tube already removed from his mouth (though he still needed a smaller breathing tube running under his nose and behind his ears) he still tried to smile when he saw her, even if it was a terrible attempt. Sam had been with him. He turned still with visible relief and saw her though she didn't spare him a glance.

Dean closed his eyes when she kissed him on the forehead and weakly told her to stop crying, he was fine. Elena told him to shut up and helped him drink some water. Her coffee sat for hours after that, forgotten.

Sam was downstairs getting dinner in the food court (trying to sneak some "real food" in for Dean) when Dean finally had time to think. He didn't think of anything in particular. In fact, he tried not to. Instead he absently brushed his fingers through Elena's dark hair while she sat in a chair, dozing with her head pillowed by her crossed arms on the bed. He noticed how she only allowed herself to relax when his brother was out of the room.

"Are you all right?" The voice came from his left. He didn't have to look to know who it was, and didn't want to anyway.

"No thanks to you." His own voice was still tired, clogged and weak. He saw the angel shift out of the corner of his eye.

"You need to be more careful." Dean could've scoffed if it wouldn't hurt.

"You need to learn to manage a damn Devil's Trap."

"That's not what I mean," said Cas. "Uriel is dead."

Couldn't say he was disappointed.

"Was it the demons?"

"It was disobedience." Castiel looked over at him with the face of someone who knew he had been played, but was still determined. "He was working against us."

"Is it true?" Dean asked after a moment. The angel's expression turned quizzical. "Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?"

"…Yes." Castiel forced himself to look away from the cold realization forming on the battered man's face. "When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to Hell, and we fought our way to get to you before you—"

"Jumpstarted the Apocalypse." Elena began to stir, reminding both of them to lower their voices.

"We were too late."

"…Why didn't you just leave me there, then?"

"It's not blame that falls on you, Dean," said Cas. "It's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it."

No. Dean didn't want it. He couldn't even get the information out of Alastair, let alone stop the world from ending. It was too much. He couldn't stop the tear that ran down his cheek.

"Lucifer? The Apocalypse?" he asked incredulously. "What does that mean?"

The angel remained quiet.

"Hey. Don't you go flying off, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?" This time, Elena did wake. She didn't speak, but was surprised to see Castiel.

"I don't know, Dean," he admitted. "They don't tell me much. Our fate…rests with you."

Elena wanted to know what the hell he was talking about, but seeing how confused and tormented Dean looked, she could guess it wasn't pleasant.

"Then you guys are screwed," he said coarsely. His eyes became glassy, and even with Elena there, he didn't try to fight it. He was tired. "It's too big, Cas…Alastair was right. I'm not all here, I'm not…not strong enough."

Dean looked away from Cas, away from Elena. The tears came down and he couldn't stop it.

"I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted us to be," he said. "…Find someone else."

Let someone else give more than they had to give.

"It's not me."

After a few beats of heavy silence, Castiel left with the distinct ruffle of feathered wings. It left Elena at a loss, uncertain and disheartened. Though she couldn't look at Dean like this for much longer.

She got up and sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. He sniffed every once in a while, but eventually he rolled his head back towards her. It was obvious he was in pain, but she wished she knew what he was thinking. Instead of asking, she leant forward and kissed him softly on the cheek, right below his bruised eye as a tear ran down hers.

"I wish you could see…how I see you," she confessed.

For all his usual bravado, his gruff nature and human flaws, he was still the sixteen-year-old kid that helped her fix her mom's beat up, piece of shit car into a Camaro that ran like a dream. He was the kind of man that wouldn't think twice about driving to some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. He'd help some girl he barely used to know find her father, and be there to collect her broken pieces when it all went to shit.

Dean was the kind of man that refused kindness—would rather she leave him, than risk her being hurt because of him.

Tears pricked behind Elena's eyes as she realized she was probably at least half in love with this man.

Dean slowly let out a shaking breath, and said,

"What, a grade A fuckup?" He didn't manage the words without his voice cracking.

She frowned deeply, but threaded her fingers with his.

"A good man."

His kneejerk response was something of a scoff. He turned his head away and blinked glassy eyes. After a while, though, he was drawn back to her face that was etched in sadness.

"Not anymore," he said.

Elena shook her head.

"I wouldn't be here if that were true."

Dean hesitated, then let out a long breath through his nose.

"You've almost been killed because of me," he said. "Why haven't you cut and run already?"

The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Guess I'm just a stubborn bitch."

He closed his eyes with a huff just shy of a laugh and a barely there smile. It was enough for her just to see it; a plus for her to have been the one to put it there. He didn't need to know she was most likely at least half in love with him. Not yet.

Hell, knowing Dean, he probably already knew.

"You've never given up on me," she said, and gently squeezed his hand. "What makes you think I'm going to give up on you?"

Dean stared at her, and she knew he didn't want to believe her. Almost couldn't.

"Part of me's hopin' you would," he admitted. Elena tilted her head.

"And the other part?"

She watched him swallow. That twitch in his jaw and the way his eyes avoided her face told her more of his inward battle than any words.

Finally, he squeezed the hand covering his, but still didn't meet her eyes. Not because he wasn't sure of his answer, but because he didn't want to be. And in that moment Elena knew she'd made him understand.

"It's damn grateful you don't."

She allowed herself a small smile.

Maybe things have changed.