Thank you Jenjoremy for the fabulous beta job. You're a star.

This is the chapter where things with the Cas/Castiel things gets confusing — especially for me. Castiel is the angel that belongs in the time Sam and Cas have just arrived in. He is Season 4 Castiel right down to the abnosome sex hair. Cas is the angel that has brought Sam back to change the future by changing the past. There will both appear in this chapter and editing it for me was confusing as hell, so I'm hoping it's easier for you guys to keep track.

Chapter Two

Time travel was draining. Even though he was now suffused with power, Cas felt the strain of it. He took a moment to adjust himself before stepping out of the motel bathroom he had arrived in. Sam was sitting at the table, working on his laptop, and he looked up, his brother's name already on his lips. When he caught sight of Cas, he lurched to his feet and grabbed his gun from the nightstand.

"Who are you?" he shouted.

Cas shook his head tiredly. He hadn't considered the logistics of dealing with a Sam who didn't know him yet, a Sam who had no connection to him the way he did in the future.

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord."

Sam's grip on his gun faltered and he lowered it slightly. "You're the one… Wow… Castiel…"

Cas smiled. This was the Sam he first met, the Sam who was awed by him. It took time for that awe to fade to mistrust, for Sam's faith in the divine to be shaken. Cas missed it. Not for the obvious reason of the heady feeling of admiration but because he knew what it had cost Sam to lose it.

"You saved Dean," Sam said.

"I did."

"Thank you," Sam breathed.

This was new. When Cas had met Sam before, he hadn't thanked him, perhaps because Dean was there at the time. Cas found he had no response to that, so he stayed silent.

Sam shook his head slightly. "Dean's not here at the moment. I can call him if you want. Or I can tell you where he is. I guess you can just… fly there, right. Wow."

"I am not here for Dean. I am here for you."

Sam frowned. "What did I do?"

Nothing yet, Cas thought, but he didn't vocalize it. He reached into his coat and clasped his fingers around the soul burning there and pulled it out. It felt… wrong in his hand: raw, flayed, pained.

"What's that?" Sam asked, looking wary.

"This? This is your soul."

Sam's eyes widened. "My what? How…? I mean why…? What the hell's going on?" He took a step back, his eyes locked on the glowing mass.

Cas could have explained it all; he could have told Sam what he was doing and that he had his future self's permission, but it would take too long. Dean would return sooner or later, and there were things to discuss before that happened.

He stepped forward, clutching the soul in one hand, and tried to look reassuring. "I promise you this is for the best," he said.

"What's for the best? What are you doing?" Sam held up his hands defensively.

Cas pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead and he flopped back onto the bed. He landed hard and bounced twice before stilling.

Cas bowed over him and rested the soul against his chest. This would not be easy, as there was already a soul in place, and it wouldn't have worked if this soul belonged to anyone but Sam, but they were two of the same. They would coexist peacefully.

Gripping the soul tightly, he pressed down, forcing it into Sam. Sam groaned through his unconsciousness, and then as Cas forced it in further, his voice rose to a shout. Cas clasped a hand over his mouth, stifling his cries as his other hand slipped back and out of Sam. He felt better having the soul away from him. It was wrong and damaged, and its touch made Cas recoil.

Sam's eyes rolled beneath his lids, and Cas wondered what horrors were freeing themselves into his mind even now, what memories of Hell were leaking into his psyche. Whatever they were, they would not be there long. Cas touched his palm to Sam's sweat damp forehead and set to work. He was not Death, he did not have the knowledge and power of the Horseman, but he managed. He took Sam's strength and resilience and formed the blockade that was necessary for Sam's survival, the wall that would protect Sam from himself.

When he was sure he had done the job to the best of his ability, he straightened and sighed. He had done all he could; the rest was down to Sam. Cas was confident that if any memories leaked through, Sam would be able to bear them. He had already exceeded expectations many times over, and Cas was pretty sure he could do it again.

He sat down on the bed beside Sam and waited. He could have woken him easily, but he felt it was better to allow him a little time first. Dean was not close yet; he could feel him across town, not moving. It was easier to operate now, being able to sense them again. He had become so accustomed to them being beyond his sight that he had forgotten how it felt, how much it settled his mind to find them at will.

After a few minutes, every second Cas ticked off in his mind, Sam stirred. He blinked blearily, sitting up before his eyes even focused, and he murmured his brother's name.

"He is not here," Cas said quietly.

Sam went from half asleep to alert in a split-second. His gaze snapped to Cas and he grinned inexplicably. "It worked."

"To a fashion," Cas said. "How do you feel? Are you remembering… Hell?"

Sam paused for a moment as if taking mental inventory and then shook his head. "No."

Cas sighed with relief. It had worked. The wall he had created, novice that he was in comparison, had worked.

Sam grimaced suddenly. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

"What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head. "We forgot, I forgot, about the demon blood."

Cas shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't forgotten. He'd known Sam would be inserted into a body that was pulsing with the effects of the demon blood running through his veins. He had assumed Sam would have realized, too. He hadn't thought to remind him, especially in front of Dean. He hadn't believed it was possible for Dean to disapprove of the plan any more forcefully than he had already, but Dean had surpassed his expectations many times before, too.

"What am I going to do, Cas?" he said desperately. "I can't go through that again!"

Cas knew he wasn't speaking of the process of drinking the blood; he was thinking of the withdrawal. He didn't know what to say to comfort him. As an angel, he had no power to ease that process for Sam. Only God had that power.

"You will make it through," he reassured him. "You have done it twice before. You can do it once more."

Sam shuddered and then seemed to steel himself. "Okay. I'll deal with that when it's time. Though I don't know what I'm supposed to tell Dean…"

"You could try the truth. This object of your return is to change what happened. You weren't honest with Dean in the past; you hid many things from him just as he did from you. This is your chance to rectify that. Tell him the truth, let him help."

"Or let him beat me to a bloody pulp," Sam muttered. "It's not just that though. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I don't want to put more on him than is already there. He's been through so much already…"

"Not as much as he will go through if we fail now. He has not known and lost Lisa's love yet. He has not seen Jo torn apart by a hellhound. He has not seen his brother—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Sam said. "He's been through enough, for sure, but he won't go through all that now. I won't fail him this time. I will tell him the truth about the demon blood, just not yet, okay?"

"Why not?" Cas asked.

"Because"—Sam looked around the motel room—"we're in Ohio, right? The Samhain hunt? I need to deal with that before I go blowing his mind with how screwed up I am."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You will tell him?"

"I will, but not till I'm ready. There's… things that need to happen first."

Sam was obviously hiding something. Cas considered pushing him, drawing the truth from him, but he didn't. He reminded himself that this wasn't the Sam of three years ago, not really. He may have the body and demon blood of that Sam, but he was a different man, one who had learned from his mistakes. He had earned Cas's trust.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. "This is going to be so complicated. What the hell am I supposed to tell Dean about how I'm here? He's going to freak. He'll have more questions… He's going to be so pissed."

This was something Cas had considered. There was too much danger in Dean knowing. Too much risk Uriel and Cas of this time would discover what he'd done. "Don't tell him."

Sam's head snapped up. "What? What happened to being honest with him?"

Cas sighed. "Dean cannot know. We have to be constantly alert for Uriel and myself of this time. They cannot know what we are doing. When I am with you, it's safe to discuss things, as I can sense when they are close, but without me here, they could be watching you and you'd never know. We have to keep this from them."

Sam shook his head and smiled slightly. "Dean will know something's wrong, I guarantee it. He'll figure out that something's wrong."

"I don't think he will. Remember how things were in this time. You were drinking demon blood and Dean had no idea. You were essentially a drug addict and Dean missed the signs. He was too preoccupied by the fact you were using your powers still. Play on that now. Let him believe that is all."

Sam was silent for a long time. "You really think that will work?"

"I do. Dean does not need to know. It is not safe."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "I won't tell him yet, but, Cas, if something happens, if he needs to know, we'll have to tell him."

Cas nodded, satisfied.

The cell on the table rang, and Sam picked it up and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened. "Crap! What do I do?"

"I believe the custom is to answer," Cas said with a smile.

"But it's Dean!"

"Sam, how were you planning to handle this situation?" Cas asked. "You will have to see him sooner or later. How else will you change anything? Answer the phone."

Sam groaned and pressed a button on the phone and held it to his ear. "Dean. Hey."

"We got a problem, Sammy," Dean's voice came through the speaker, so familiar but so different. It was animated and freer than Cas had heard in a long time. "Little Miss Cheerleader is a big fat liar."

"Yeah," Sam said and then winced. "I mean, okay. What makes you think that?"

"She acted all vague about Luke Wallace, but it turns out she's the damn babysitter!"

"She's our witch," Sam said.

"You think? I was thinking more along the lines of her being a hot little liar."

Cas raised an eyebrow. Sam wasn't exactly being sly so far. He had already revealed that he had more information than he should. Luckily, Dean was also a different Dean to the time they were coming from. He merely said, "Okay, we'll check her out. Might be right, Sammy. Nice work."

Sam grinned. "There's a couple things I've got to do. Meet you back at the motel later."

"Hey, what are you doing? Where are you going? Sam—"

Sam ended the call and looked into Cas's doubtful eyes. "What?"

"Where are you going, Sam?" he asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm going to work. We've got two witches to kill before sunset, and I need to get a jump start on it." He rooted in his duffel and pulled out Ruby's knife.

"They're witches, Sam, not demons." Cas said.

"It's a knife, Cas. Trust me, this'll work just fine." He glanced out the window. "Don't suppose you can give me a ride can you?"

"Where are we going?"

Sam considered for a moment and then nodded to himself. "The school. I'll start with Don."

It was surreal, wrong, to be this person again, feeling these things. The demon blood thrummed through him, making him feel wired and alert to the smallest sounds. It had only been a few days since he had met with Ruby and had his last dose, he remembered, but even without the memories he would know. He would feel it.

It also felt strange to be in this body. He was slighter now than he was in his present. The muscles he didn't remember developing–it had happened in the time he was soulless, the time he couldn't remember–weren't so prominent. Despite that, he felt strong, and it wasn't from just the blood. He had noticed it almost as soon as he woke, but he hadn't asked Cas about it. He was worried there was something wrong, and Cas would drag him back to his real time. He couldn't let that happen. This was their chance, their time to make it right. This was the way he was going to avoid breaking Dean, his way to avoid the cage, his way to save the world. It had to work.

Sam gave Cas precise instructions to the teacher's classroom. He needed to be lying in wait for Don without seeing others. He couldn't have witnesses for what he was about to do. They came into the storeroom of the classroom, and Sam eased open the door a couple inches to peer into the room. Don was at the desk, scribbling in a manila folder.

"Are you ready for this?" Cas breathed.

Sam nodded and pulled out the knife. "Stay here," he whispered.

He opened the door enough to slip through and gripped the knife a little tighter in his hand.

"I know you're there," Don said without looking up, his pen still scratching at the paper. "Come out and see me."

Sam gritted his teeth and moved around the desk. His every muscle was tensed and his hands shook slightly.

Don looked up and smiled. "Agent… Lee I presume. Tracy told me about you. She liked you. I have been expecting you, though I didn't expect you to come alone and openly armed." He clucked his tongue. "Hunters. Not the greatest with forethought. Let's talk."

"I'm not here to talk," Sam said. "I'm here to kill you."

Don frowned and tilted his head to the side, the picture of confusion. "Why would you want to do that?"

Sam scoffed. "Maybe because you're a witch and you're planning to raise an end of the world level demon."

"Clever. You clearly did your research. I'm impressed. And yet…" He eyed Sam up and down. "It's not all research. You know too much, don't you? I see it in your eyes. You don't belong. You're different."

"Doesn't matter what I am," Sam said. "I am here to do a job."

Don got to his feet and walked around the desk, calm and collected. "Then by all means, go ahead. Kill me."

Sam stepped back on his heel and then lurched forward, his knife wielding hand outstretched and aimed at the witch's throat. He was within an inch of flesh, poised to act, when Don waved a lazy hand through the air and pushed Sam back without making contact. Sam flew into the rack of masks by the door and they fell down with hollow thuds. The knife clattered to the floor.

"You should have brought your partner," Don said.

"Maybe I should have." Sam strained against the force holding him in place. His muscles burned with the effort, but he thought he felt some give, some promise of release. "It's apparently not as easy to kill a dick-bag witch as I thought."

Don snarled. "You have no idea who you're talking to."

"A centuries old witch with a hard-on for death and destruction? Yeah, I know. That's why you're going to die bloody."

Don laughed harshly. "And you think you're going to be the one to do it? You? A human?"

Sam strained a little harder, feeling the release of the force holding him. He stepped forward, smiling widely. "Maybe I'm not all the way human."

Don's eyes widened with shock as Sam stepped toward him, and he swept a hand through the air. Sam felt the force pressing in on him, but he wasn't moved this time. He wasn't immune the way he was to demons; he was just stronger. This was new. Last time he'd been in this situation, Tracy had knocked both him and Dean on their asses without breaking a sweat.

"What are you?" Don asked.

Sam snapped out a fist and caught Don across the jaw. He reeled back, a hand clutching his face, and stumbled slightly. Sam kicked out and swept his legs from under him. He was only down a moment, but before he could get even halfway up again, Sam bowed over him. He put a foot on his chest to hold him in place and plunged the knife into Don's throat, cutting through skin and flesh until he scraped bone. The witch rasped and gurgled for a moment, and then stilled. Blood pooled beneath him, and Sam moved back, careful to not step in it. He didn't want to leave evidence behind.

He felt a presence at his back and he turned to see Cas standing behind him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?"

"You killed him," Cas stated.

"Yeah… I thought that was the whole point of us coming here. Did you think I was here to talk to him, maybe make him see the error of his ways and persuade him to cut loose on the Samhain thing?"

"No, but I did not envisage you doing it so easily."

Sam shook his head. "It wasn't easy, Cas. None of this is. I just ended a life, and that sucks, but I ended it for a reason. He wasn't human, and there was no way of reasoning with him before he acted. I am doing this, all of this, for Dean. He's worth me stowing my conscience for a while."

Cas nodded thoughtfully, but Sam thought he saw discomfort still in his eyes. Perhaps he was comparing him to the Sam who had been without his soul, the Sam that had let Dean be turned and had tried to kill Bobby.

"I'm still me, Cas," he said defensively. "I'm just me with a mission."

Cas offered to deal with Don's body, to stash it somewhere out of sight so as not to put the police on alert until Sam and Dean were out of town. Sam automatically agreed, and it wasn't until Cas had left him in an alley on Main Street that he wondered what Cas would do about the blood. An image of him rolling up his trenchcoat sleeves and scrubbing the floor came to him and he laughed to himself.

Knowing Dean was going to be curious, and probably pissed, about his errands, Sam stopped by a Burger Shack for a bag of grease and meat for his brother to devour. Maybe he'd get lucky and Dean would be distracted. He doubted it somehow. Distracted or not, Dean was going to know something was up.

He walked back to the motel slowly, in no hurry to face Dean. He thought of all the challenges he and Cas were facing with what they were doing, Dean was the greatest. This was the acid test. If Dean realized, if he knew, Sam would tell him the truth, but he'd prefer not to. Like Cas said, Dean had already been through enough. He didn't need to know how bad things were going to end up if Sam failed.

The Impala was parked outside their room, and Sam saw the curtain twitch as someone tugged at it. Dean was in full on pissed mode then. He would be imitating a fifties housewife as soon as Sam got inside, hands on hips and strident demands of 'Where have you been?'

He braced himself and shouldered opened the door. "Hey. I brought…" He caught sight of the people in the room. Dean was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest and a slightly uncomfortable expression; Castiel was by the bed, his eyes fixed on Sam, slightly narrowed; and Uriel stood by the window with his back to the room.

"Cas…tiel," he said awkwardly. "Um…" He looked at Dean helplessly. Dean was watching him with a raised eyebrow. "You must be Castiel."

Castiel nodded. "I am. And you are Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood."

Sam had forgotten what a dick Castiel was in the beginning. Sure, he wasn't a bag of laughs in the future, but he was family. There was a bond of brotherhood between him and Sam in that time. Sam had proved himself to be stronger than the demon blood, and Castiel had showed, by falling, that he was more than an automaton for orders.

Sam scowled at him. "Yeah. That's me. Demon boy."

Dean frowned at him. Sam guessed he was expecting his whole belief system to kick in and for him to be awed by the angels in the room—the way he had when they'd really met for the first time. That was before though. Sam now knew what dicks angels were, with one exception. Angels were the ones pretending to try and prevent seals from breaking when they were really providing the cheering section for the apocalypse. Castiel didn't know that in this time though, so Sam had to make allowances. But Uriel… he was firmly on side of the end of the world. He was even now—or would be soon—killing other angels to do it. Sam wondered if there was some way to stop it, and then he wondered if he cared enough to bother.

"This is Uriel," Dean said, his tone bitter as he gestured to the dark-skinned angel.

Uriel turned slowly, making the movement last forever. Sam wondered if he was attempting to intimidate Sam. It was a wasted effort if he was. Sam had faced plenty worse already. Uriel came to rest facing Sam and he looked him up and down as if assessing him. Sam straightened and stared back into his fathomless eyes without fear.

"You have ceased your extra-curricular activities," Uriel stated.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes. My name is Sam and I haven't exorcised a demon with my mind in sixty days. You going to give me a chip?"

Dean eyed him like he was crazy, and Sam thought maybe it was time to tone down the attitude. It was hard, because it was so tempting to bust their chops. They deserved it, Castiel included at the moment, for what they were going to do.

"You would be wise to speak to us with a little more respect," Uriel said through his teeth.

Sam nodded slowly. "Sure. Okay. I'm sorry. So, what can we do for you?"

"The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?" Castiel asked intently.

"Why?" Dean asked,

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

Dean looked awkward and Sam stepped forward. "Yes. We've found one and killed it. There's still one to track down though."

Castiel and Uriel looked at him blankly and Dean looked stunned as he said, "We have?"

"I have," Sam corrected. "And I have a rough idea of where we'll find the second. We'll get it done."

"You are awfully confident for a mud monkey," Uriel said. "How did you find the witch? Have you been tapping into those… powers again?"

Sam felt Dean's eyes on him, suspicious, doubting, and he shook his head. "No. I did it all the old fashioned way with research and investigation. I am a hunter."

Dean clapped his hands together. "Awesome. In that case we'll deal with the other witch and you guys can go play harps or something. We're on it."

Castiel tilted his head to the side and examined Sam carefully. "Are you certain you know who the witch is? Because there is more at stake here than you know."

"I'm sure," Sam said confidently. "There's no need for anything dramatic."

"Dramatic like leveling the town?" Uriel asked, a grim smile on his lips.

"What?" Dean goggled at Uriel.

"Yeah, dramatic like that," Sam said. "We've got till midnight, right? The ritual has to be done by then. How's about we call it eleven-thirty and if we don't get it done, you can level whatever you like?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked. "Sammy, what the hell?"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. "We're good."

After a long moment in which Sam thought Castiel was maybe x-raying him with his eyes, he nodded. "Work fast," he said somberly and then disappeared.

Uriel smiled slightly. "Eleven-thirty, Sam Winchester."

Sam thought he saw a flash of dark wings against the wall in the second before Uriel took flight. He watched him go and then braced himself for Dean. He was going to have questions and doubts and possibly the ability to tell Sam wasn't the right Sam with his eyes alone. Sam knew that was the real test here, not whether they could kill Samhain, but whether Sam could fool him.

Dean slapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, hard. "What the hell was that?"

Sam turned slowly, praying it was going to work, and smiled. "That was angels. Dicks, right?"

Dean smiled slightly. "Yeah, but I was thinking more about what the hell was the whole 'we killed a witch and know where the other is' thing. I think they mean it. Uriel would actually take out the town and hum a merry tune while doing it."

"I did kill a witch already, Dean," Sam said. "And I do think I know where we'll find the other."

Dean was silent for a long time and then he said, again, "What the hell?"

Sam dropped the paper sack down onto the table and massaged his temples hard. All this subterfuge was giving him a headache. "I figured the bone was too charred to come from a normal fire. I was reading up on Tracy and saw she had issues at school with her art teacher. I connected the dots from heat to kiln to teacher and decided to go by and talk to him. He figured I'd already worked out what he was, and he tried to kill me. I got the jump on him." He shrugged. "That's one witch down."

Dean was listening with his mouth slightly open. Sam wondered what he would come down on first, doubt about Sam's story or anger that he'd taken out a witch without backup. "You killed a witch. Alone?"

So it was anger. That was easier to deal with. "I'm not a child, Dean. I can hunt alone."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to. Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Because I thought we were on a tight schedule and we should get ahead where we could. Besides, I didn't know I was going to need to kill anyone. I thought I was just doing recon."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay then. I guess it's good. Just… next time wait for me, okay?"

Sam didn't want to lie to Dean more than he already was, so he nodded vaguely and said, "So, that was Castiel."

"Yeah, and Uriel apparently." Disgust dripped from his tone. "A pair of real dicks."

"I don't know," Sam said without thinking. "Cas isn't so bad."

"Cas?" Dean said. "First off, that's creepy, and second, he called you the boy with the demon blood. You telling me that's not so bad?"

"Yeah, but…"—Sam rubbed the back of his neck—"I guess he seemed good in comparison to the other asshole. Anyway, we need to gear up and get to Tracy."

"She is the witch? You're sure?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, uh, the teacher was in a chatty mood, I guess. He said he was working with another, and I figured it must be her. We need to check his address and go by there. If she's summoning, I'm guessing that's where it's happening."

Dean stared at him as if trying to see something that wasn't there, black eyes maybe, any sign Sam wasn't Sam. "You worked all this out on your own?" he asked. "No… extra help?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe Ruby or your psychic whatever?"

"It's all me, Dean," Sam said.

"Okay, fine. Let's hope you're right about Tracy. I don't want to risk the town on a hunch. And I don't want to take out a schoolgirl if we're wrong."

"Don't worry," Sam said. "I'll make sure we're right before we act."

He made to turn away, to grab the weapons he would need, but Dean caught his arm and held him in place. "You can tell me if there's something up; you know that, right?"

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what it had cost Dean to say it, given his aversion to scenes like this, and what he must be thinking. "I know. I will if I need to."

"Good… That's… good."

There was light burning in the basement window, backing up Sam's hunch that Tracy would try the spell alone. She had been the intended sacrifice last time, and Sam wondered if she was tied up down there this time, too. It would make things a lot easier if she was, but he didn't hold out much hope. He had been running through the plan in his head on the drive over to the house. It was a blood sacrifice that was needed to raise Samhain, so he couldn't let anyone bleed. Simple enough in theory, but not so easy to explain to Dean.

"How are we supposed to take her out without blood? She's a witch, Sam!"

"We'll find another way," Sam said. "Just keep the bullets in your gun."

Dean huffed. "Fine, just as long as you remember we're banking a whole town's survival on this. You're not forgetting that are you, Sammy?"

Sam grabbed his arm and whirled him around. "I'm not forgetting anything. I know what I'm doing, okay? Just have a little faith."

Dean looked like he had an insult on his tongue, but he swallowed it and nodded dourly. "Faith. Okay."

Sam made quick work of the lock on the back door and crept inside. He remembered the door to the basement leading off of the kitchen, but made a show of checking the other door—the pantry—before he opened the right one. He was hoping small mistakes would subside Dean's suspicions somewhat.

As soon as he had the door open, he heard the voice chanting. He cursed loudly and pounded down the steps, hoping to distract her long enough to get there before she finished the spell. He came into the room with his gun raised, an empty threat, but she wouldn't know that. The boy from the apple bobbing crime scene was there, strung up by his hands, the rope attached to a hook in the ceiling. He was gagged, but he was trying to talk, to shout. Tracy had the silver bowl in her hands and she was smiling widely.

"Agents," she said, sounding delighted. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Put the bowl down," Sam growled.

"I don't think so." She picked up a long, antique looking knife from the table and rested it against the boy's throat. His muffled words became more desperate and his eyes widened.

"I'm guessing you're the reason Don has missed the show," she said. "I'd say I'm sorry, but it would be a lie. I want all the glory, you see. I will raise our master and I will receive his gratitude." She licked her lips. "All that gratitude."

Dean shifted at his side and Sam knew he was just as tormented as Sam was. They could strike now, maybe killing the witch, but maybe completing the spell for her instead. He shook his head slightly.

"Or maybe he'll kill you for spending the last six centuries slutting around," Sam said. "Think of that?"

She laughed. "He will understand. I have always been faithful to him in my heart. Now, time's running out. There are things I need to do." She looked at the boy hanging from the ceiling. "Now, Justin, aren't you sorry you didn't pick me?"

The boy nodded vigorously.

"I bet if you had a chance to do things different, you'd treat me a lot better. Shame really that you're not going to get that chance." She pressed the tip of the blade against his throat and thrust it in, drawing a thick stream of blood that she caught in the bowl.

Sam stepped forward, not sure of what he was going to do, but knowing he had to act fast. Without even looking at him, Tracy muttered something in Latin and Sam was swept off his feet. He collided with Dean and they were both driven to the ground. He felt like his guts were being twisted into knots, and he guessed from Dean's groans he was suffering the same. He remembered this pain, but it did not incapacitate him the way it had last time. He pushed it down, gritted his teeth, and rolled onto his side. The witch wasn't pinning him now, either because she couldn't or because she was expecting the pain to hold him, and he was able to get his legs under him and stand.

Tracy turned away from the now dead boy hanging from the ceiling, cupping the bowl of blood in her hands. She held it up in front of her and began to chant. Sam moved fast, striding across the room and stepping up behind her. He gripped her chin and forced her head to the side with a swift, strong twist. There was a foul snapping sound and she dropped boneless to the floor. The blood from the bowl splashed across the floor.

Sam waited with bated breath, watching for the smoke to come and the demon to rise. Had he been too late? Had it worked? Dean got to his feet and walked forward slowly, but Sam didn't look up. He stood for a full minute before breathing a sigh of relief as the smoke failed to appear. Only then did he look at Dean whose expression was frozen with shock.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. "It was in time. The demon's not coming."

Dean nodded and his expression shifted from shock into relief. "Good," he said quietly.

Sam looked around the room, taking in the corpse hanging from the ceiling, the one on the floor and the bloody bowl resting beside her. Dean was staring at it, too, and for a moment, it seemed to Sam they were just taking in the relief, and then Dean punched his arm and shouted, "What the hell was that?"

Sam looked into his eyes, seeing fear, anger and something indefinable. "That? That was me doing my job."

xXx

As Dean and Sam reached the Impala and sped off down the street, two angels appeared in the basement of Don Harding's house. On the floor was a dead witch, sprawled in the middle of a pool of congealing blood. Hanging from the ceiling was a teenage male, little more than a child, with a slit throat and still open eyes even though he was dead.

The taller of the two, dark skinned and heavyset, walked forward and examined the scene. He toed the corpse of the witch, rolling her over to her back. Her head flopped grotesquely, but neither angel reacted to the sight. They had seen much worse many times before.

"Her neck was snapped," Uriel said in his deep baritone.

Castiel nodded. "I wonder which one of them did it."

Uriel smiled grimly. "There is no question, surely. The Righteous Man can be the only one. Unless you think the abomination overcame his nature to do some good for a change."

"He has before," Castiel said, no inflection in his tone.

"Always under the tutelage of the brother. Have you forgotten the slew of bodies he left behind during his… training with that demon?"

Castiel nodded, conceding the point. "He said he killed the first witch though. That was without his brother. Do you forget Dean's reaction? He knew nothing of it."

"Perhaps he didn't. He is distracted at the moment by the maelstrom of guilt and emotion the mud monkeys suffer." Uriel chuckled. "The Righteous Man is broken."

"I do not think so. I do not deny that he is distracted, but he still succeeded here where we believed he would fail. It was right to allow him this command. He proved himself. The seal was saved."

"I suppose," Uriel said grudgingly.

"What really troubles you, brother?" Castiel asked. "Were you hoping for him to fail? Is your distaste for humanity so great that you would annihilate a town with relish?"

Uriel stared into Castiel's eyes. "I would have done it because it was ordered. I serve the will of Heaven."

That was not the whole truth. Castiel and Uriel had worked together for too long for either to fool the other, but the pretence was a necessary part of their relationship.

"They saved the seal," Castiel said, changing the subject. "We should report."

Uriel straightened and thrust his chest out. "I will go. I am already sick of this planet. The stench of humanity is rife all over."

Castiel nodded. "Very well. I will ensure the safety of The Winchesters and then I will follow."

"The Winchester, Castiel. There is only one that matters."

"And if we are relying on his assistance to stop the seals from breaking, we need them both," Castiel said. "Dean will be no good to us if he is even more distracted."

Uriel shook his head, disgusted. "Humans…"

"Yes, humans."

Uriel cast the witch's corpse one last look of loathing and then left. Castiel waited a moment longer, staring at the body of the boy suspended from the ceiling with an indefinable expression and then he too disappeared.

The room was quiet for a moment, and then an angel out of his time stepped from his corner and unshielded himself. Cas had watched the scene develop between the Winchesters and the witch, silent and unseen, and he'd rejoiced internally when the witch had been killed before the ritual could be completed. Sam had done it. Their plan was working.

He had chosen this time and place for their return because he believed the exorcism of Samhain had empowered Sam, had proved his abilities, had shown him there was real good to be done with his powers. He wondered if the things they had changed already would be enough to change the future. He doubted it. Lilith's death was the result of a confluence of events, the raising of Samhain only a part of it.

He moved across the room to the boy suspended from the ceiling. He looked at his pale, young face and sighed. It was not the first life lost to the war, nor would it be the last, but Cas still felt regret for his death. He reached up a hand and run it across the boy's face, closing his wide staring eyes. "I am sorry," he said softly, knowing he could not be heard but feeling better for having said it. That done, he turned away from the bodies and took flight again.

He came to rest in a motel room in the center of the small town. Sam was sitting on the edge of a bed with a faded purple bedspread that clashed with the green wallpaper. His hand was rubbing his forehead as if attempting to wipe away the lines that had made their home in his brow. Dean was standing opposite him with his half full duffel held in one fisted hand and a crumpled shirt in his other. He was tense and angry, and with his next words, Cas understood that he had arrived in the midst of a heated discussion.

"I saw you snap that girl's neck, Sam!"

"It wasn't a girl," Sam said. "It just looked like one. And in case you forgot, it worked. She didn't finish the spell."

"She didn't," Dean conceded. "But, Sam, it was cold."

Sam sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Dean. I didn't enjoy it if that's what you're thinking, but it was a choice between killing her the way I did or letting the angels destroy the whole town. I did what I had to do."

Dean dropped his duffel and shirt and thumped down on the bed, his hands fisted so hard they were shaking slightly. "I get that, I do, and I'm glad it worked, but…"

"But what?" Sam asked.

"I'm worried," Dean admitted. "You're pulling demons with your mind. You're snapping necks and you're sassing angels. You're not the brother I left behind."

Cas thought Sam would have been hurt by Dean's words had he been the right Sam, the Sam that strove to be what his brother wanted and needed from him. As it was, Sam wasn't the same person Dean had left months ago when his deal came due. This was the Sam who had lived through an apocalypse he had started; this was the man who spent almost two unremembered centuries in the cage with Michael and Lucifer, two centuries that had left eternal damage on his soul. This Sam needed a wall in his mind just to function.

"I'm not," Sam admitted, and Cas heard the strain in his tone. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm not using my powers anymore, in case you forgot, and I just saved a town. Besides, are you the same man that the hellhounds came for?"

Dean stared into his eyes, and Cas wondered if this was the opening Dean needed to tell Sam about Hell, about what he had suffered there and what he had done. It wasn't. He merely shook his head and said, "It's different, Sam."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's different for me, too. That's the point." He sighed and got to his feet. "I'll get the car packed up. We'll go back to Bobby's for a while. I want to fill him in on this hunt and the angels' latest."

"And the phone's not good enough?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam shook his head. "No. It's not."

He swung his duffel over his shoulder and made for the door. Dean watched him go with a frown and then he returned his attention to packing.

Cas followed Sam outside and stood just by the door, out of sight of the motel window. He unshielded himself so Sam could see, and then waited as Sam opened the trunk and dropped his duffel inside. When Sam looked up and saw him, Cas thought he saw fear flicker across his eyes.

"It's me," he said, assuming Sam was confused about which Cas he was dealing with.

Sam nodded, relief in his eyes. He came to stand beside Cas, leaning against the wall.

"Hey."

"Hello, Sam."

"So," Sam said laconically, "I met you for the first time today. You were a real dick."

Cas smiled slightly. "I was."

"And I killed two witches."

"You did."

Sam looked up hopefully. "You think it was enough?"

"To stop it all?" Cas asked. "No. I don't think so. Not yet."

Sam's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Okay."

Cas saw his disappointment and he sighed. "You did stop a seal breaking today, Sam, and you saved a town from annihilation. You should be very happy."

Sam glanced back at the door. "I know, and I am, but I just wish Dean wasn't taking it like… this."

Cas considered him, seeing the shadow in his eyes that was his unremembered hell. Dean shared the same shadow. It was what happened when man suffered. "This will not be the last time you will be forced to show Dean this side of yourself."

Sam raked a hand through his hair. "I know, I get it, but I wish it was. The way he's looking at me now, it reminds me of what it was like after Lucifer rose."

"It's different, Sam. It will be a difficult journey for you to travel, but if we are successful, the world will be saved and your brother will have no reason to look at you like that ever again. There will be no loss of trust between you."

"I hope so," Sam said quietly. "Though…"

"What?"

Sam fixed his gaze on the parking lot. "I can't help but think we are going to succeed but that I'll lose Dean anyway. I'm going to have to do dark things to stop this, and that's going to come with a price. Saving the world will lose me as much as almost destroying it will." He sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter, I guess. It will be worth it."

"Yes," Cas said somberly. "It will."

So… The witches are dead and things are getting tense for Sam and Dean. One challenge down, a dozen or more to come. I am a lover of the bond between the boys, so don't worry if this tension has you sad. It will resolve as it always does.

Thank you all for the great response to the first chapter. It was great to see some new names reading, reviewing, fave'ing and alerting. I really appreciate the support.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx