Beckett could feel for Castle. She might be better at hiding her dazed expression, but the feelings of confusion and disbelief were still there. And that was knowing what had happened the day before. Castle had been unconscious and in an ambulance on the way to the hospital by the time any of the action had taken place, and now here was Dean, who he'd thought was dead, walking around and talking to him. And here was Cas, appearing out of thin air right in front of him. She thought she might actually be getting more freaked out every time he did that.

She would have offered Castle a drink, but she didn't think it would mix well with his painkillers. Also, Sam Winchester had used up all her vodka cleaning out a knife wound on his upper arm, which he'd then sewed up. Himself. Using her dental floss.

The situation was devolving. The same argument had happened several times over the course of the last 24 hours. Dean would get out of bed, insist he was fine and hit on her to prove it. Sam would try to help him walk, sit him down somewhere and check his injuries, and then try to make him go back to bed. This would end in a fierce argument, but Dean would eventually go back to bed. Sometimes Cas would step in and simply touch Dean's forehead with two fingers. The first time Cas had done it Dean had been standing up and had suddenly collapsed forward into Castiel's arms. Beckett had thought something was seriously wrong, and was whipping out her phone to call an ambulance before Sam stopped her. She decided to step in now, before the argument got to that point.

"Being filled in sounds really good right about now," Castle said, his usual verve somewhat dampened by pain and shock.

Beckett sat next to him at the table and patted him reassuringly on the head, because it was the least injured part of his body.

"Dean, stay on the couch. Cas, don't move," Beckett ordered. Dean, no matter how much he insisted he was fine, probably wouldn't make it across to the table, and Cas had a disturbing tendency to disappear and reappear in the middle of conversations. "Sam, give Castle the speech you gave me yesterday."

Surprisingly, all three complied. Dean looked mutinous and refused to lie down, but nevertheless stayed where he was, while Sam came over to the table and sat down to give the demons are real speech.

Castle was uncharacteristically quiet while Sam explained about the apocalypse and how he and Dean were hunters, and the demons had a hit out on Dean.

"The apocalypse?" Castle took it surprisingly calmly. Much better than she had. Maybe it was the painkillers softening the blow. "Should I be moving to the country and buying a bunker?"

"Actually most of the really bad stuff seems to be happening in small towns. You're probably better off in the city," Dean spoke up from the couch. "Cas, can you blink or something? You're creeping me out."

Beckett looked across at them. Apparently Castiel had taken her at her word and was standing perfectly still, staring unblinkingly at Dean. Dean reached over and tugged his trench coat. "Just sit down, dude."

"You're an angel?" Castle asked Cas. Beckett could see the excited spark in his eye that he got when he talked about superheroes and the CIA. She snorted under her breath. Only Castle would react to the revelation that angels and demons existed by planning his next book.

Cas nodded. "Yes."

"Wow, you're really not what I was expecting."

"I am a soldier of God," Cas informed him severely, from where he perched straight-backed on the edge of the couch.

"Angels are dicks," Dean contributed. Cas looked sideways at him. "Except Cas."

"What's it like being an angel?" Castle asked.

"Sam should finish his explanation. Dean is tired and needs to go back to bed," Cas did not answer the question. Beckett didn't know quite what had happened, but she got the feeling that Castiel wasn't really welcome with the other angels. They hadn't actually said anything, but she knew he wasn't at full power. He'd been very upset that he was unable to heal Dean.

"Not tired," Dean insisted, forcing himself to sit up straighter.

"Anyway," said Sam, "Yesterday when we found the house where the demons were keeping you and Dean…"

XXX

Yesterday

Beckett watched the paramedics load Castle into the ambulance. She'd surreptitiously splashed them with holy water and thrown in a "Christo," just to be on the safe side, but neither had reacted and she'd judged it safe to trust Castle to them for the trip to the hospital. As they closed the doors, she felt her heart sinking. She would have to tell Sam and Cas that Dean was dead. Actual physical danger aside, she knew from what Sam had told her (which she was inclined to believe on the evidence of the fight she had witnessed) that Dean was a good man, and that both Sam and Cas cared deeply about him. It was the worst part of the job, delivering bad news, and it was made worse by her knowledge of what it felt like to be on the receiving end.

The ambulance bore Castle away to the hospital, and Beckett turned to look for Sam. She caught sight of him beside the car they had arrived in. She could just see him, hidden behind the rear end of the car, kneeling over something on the ground. Beckett made her way over to them, instructing Ryan and Esposito to fend off the feds if they tried to approach.

The sight that greeted her when she made her way around the car shocked her. Sam was kneeling over something – someone – on the ground. Cas was kneeling at the man's head. The man was covered in blood from head to foot, but there wasn't a visible wound on him.

Beckett stayed back, not wanting to intrude on their grief.

Sam was shaking his brother. "Wake up, Dean! Wake up, man. Please!" His voice rose in anguish. Beckett took a step back. Usually she would offer to help, but this time she was in the unfamiliar position of being the amateur, and there was probably nothing she could do. She didn't think Sam would appreciate her any offers of help at the moment. As she watched, Sam begged his brother to wake up. He looked fiercely at Castiel. "Do something," he ordered.

Cas didn't look much happier than Sam. "I can't, Sam. I cannot heal people anymore." A low roll of thunder sounded. Beckett looked up at the sky, where the clouds hung dark and heavy. "He is not dead."

Beckett looked back at the three men, to see if she'd heard right. That amount of blood meant someone was definitely dead.

"I know he's not dead," Sam snapped at Cas, "I felt his pulse. But he's just… Dean's never still. Something's wrong."

"We need to get him somewhere safe," Castiel replied, reaching down to wipe some of the blood from Dean's face with the sleeve of his coat. "He needs to rest."

Beckett decided it the time had come to make her presence known. She walked over to them and crouched to look at Dean. It took all of her professionalism not to shudder at the sheer amount of blood that covered him. It stained his face, dried on thickly around his closed eyes and his mouth, and running down his neck from his ears. His shirts were ragged and ripped open, wet and dyed with so much blood it was hard to tell what colour they had been. But when she looked closer, there were no wounds. Not even a scratch. It must have been his blood, but there was nowhere for it to come from. He lay completely still, except for the slight rise and fall of his chest that showed he was still alive. "You can take him to my apartment," she offered. "But are you sure you shouldn't take him to the hospital?"

"Doctors can do nothing for him," Cas told her. "What is your address?"

Beckett opened her mouth to tell him, but was interrupted. "Smmeee?" The bloody figure on the ground groaned.

Sam leaned over his brother. "I'm here, Dean. You're alright. You're gonna be fine." He pulled Dean's body up and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Beckett looked away from the tears in his eyes.

"Hello, Dean. I need to take him now, Sam," Cas said awkwardly.

"Cas," Dean said clearly, following it up with a serious of incoherent mumbling, and then, "Joe."

"Jo?" Sam looked sadly down Dean. "Jo's… not here, Dean."

"No. Joe. Demon," The frustration was clear in his voice. "Oww." He groaned once more and fell back into unconsciousness.

"What is your address?" Castiel asked Beckett again.

She told him.

"Sam, let him go," Cas ordered. Sam gave his brother one last squeeze and laid him back on the concrete. Cas placed two fingers on the unconscious man's forehead and then they were both gone.

The place where Dean had been lying was stained with blood, and Beckett didn't understand how someone could lose that much blood and survive. Slowly she became aware of a commotion coming from the house where Dean and Castle had been kept. The FBI agents outside were rushing into action, and the sounds of shouting and gunfire were emitting from the building, and then a scream.

"Crap," said Sam, "Idiots." He got up and ran across to the house, Beckett following with her gun drawn.

Ryan hurried over as they reached the house. "There's a ton of them," he reported, "at least six in the house, and we're pretty sure a couple of the feds are possessed as well."

"Are the possessed feds with the other demons?" Sam asked, pulling a small knife out of an ankle sheath and handing it to Beckett. "It won't kill them, but it's consecrated iron coated in salt, so it'll hurt like hell, and maybe distract on until you can exorcise it."

"The demon feds – I can't believe I just said that – the demon feds are definitely not with the other ones," Ryan said. "Two of them are engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two of the occupants of the house. Esposito and Connie have one in a devil's trap at the back door. They're exorcising it now. "

"Who's Connie?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Connie Walter," Ryan said, "She showed us how to get here, remember. So what do we do now? The rest of the feds are getting their asses handed to them."

Sam was immediately all business. "Go in and do whatever you have to, to pull the feds out. I want salt on the windows and doors. Where have you put devil's traps?"

"Outside every door."

"Okay, so pull the feds out. If you can without putting yourselves in too much danger, try to get a demon into a devil's trap, but don't play the exorcism until I say," Sam instructed, pulling out his knife. Up close, Beckett could see that the edge was razor sharp and slightly stained with blood. There were strange engravings along the flat of the blade. It gave her the creeps.

"What are you going to do?" She asked.

"I'm going to find the demon who tortured my brother," Sam replied. He didn't say 'and kill him', but his face was hard and furious, and Beckett knew it was what he meant.

Another blast of gunfire came from inside the house and the three of them took off running.

The inside of the house was in chaos. They entered cautiously, trying to avoid being seen. Beckett turned to the left and Ryan to the right, both of them sidling along with their backs to the wall. Sam barrelled straight through the centre, all pretence of caution gone. Beckett's foot hit something, and she looked down. A SWAT member in full combat gear was lying there, his neck at a horribly unnatural angle. She reached down to check his pulse. Nothing. She flipped the visor on his helmet up and closed his eyes. Someone stumbled backwards into her as she stood up. It was an FBI agent, this one with just a bulletproof vest on over his regular clothes. He regained his balance quickly, levelling his weapon at the figure that had shoved him across the room. He looked at Beckett, wild eyes taking in her police vest.

"They're not human," he told her, a hysterical note in his voice, "They're too strong. They keep getting up!"

"Withdraw," she told him, "Your boss sent me in with the message. Radios are down."

She left him giving the order to pull out to all of his men that he could find, and made her way over to the window to lay salt lines, dodging fighting bodies and avoiding stray bullets through sheer luck. Her luck ran out as she stood at the window, carton of salt ready to pour on the sill. A hand closed around her arm and yanked her away hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground. Beckett was a cop and knew how to defend herself, though, so she rolled to her feet, taking up a defensive stance. The person who had grabbed her was a thickset, short man with curly brown hair. He had no weapon, and was bleeding from a bullet wound to the abdomen, but it didn't seem to be slowing him down at all. In fact, it didn't look like he could even feel it. "Christo," she said, and his eyes flickered black. He aimed a punch at her but she dodged, rolling across the floor to where the container of salt lay on its side, white crystals spilling out. The demon kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her, and wound up for a second shot, but she rolled away again. Broken glass dug into her back as she rolled across the floor. She got back to her feet and threw the salt hard at the demon, directly in its eyes. It flailed, clutching at its face, smoke rising from its head. Beckett reached for her handcuffs, intending to handcuff him and drag him into the nearest devil's trap, but the demon was recovering. It flung out a hand, backhanding her across the face and sending her reeling backwards, right into the middle of the melee.

Three demons were fighting each other. It didn't seem to matter who was who. They punched and kicked and twisted body parts and sent each other flying across the room with a flick of the hand, growling things that Beckett could only catch a few words of over the rest of the noise. They all stopped when she stumbled into their midst, and stood for a second, looking at her with malevolent ink-black eyes. She tried to scramble out of the way, at the same time reaching for the little knife Sam had given her, but they had seen her.

"Well, well," one of them said, reaching out to grab her by the collar. She was a slender, busty woman in a low cut top, but she had no trouble at all lifting Beckett from her feet. The other demons closed in. Beckett's lungs closed up, her whole body going cold with fear. She could almost hear the wild beat of her heart. She caught a flash of trench coat to her left and thought of calling out for help, but it was like something was tightening around her throat, cutting off her voice.

And then words began to boom through the house. The woman released her hold on Beckett's shirt, letting Beckett drop to the floor. The demons shuddered, faces warping as the Latin poured over them, and finally black smoke rushed out of their mouths, disappearing through the floor. Beckett sagged with relief, and smiled weakly across the room at Ryan, who was standing defensively over the IPod and speakers.

They did all the first aid they could, and made sure ambulances were on their way for the rest. Esposito and Connie Walter made their way over from the next room. Esposito was unhurt, but Connie was in bad shape. She'd been hit in the leg by a bullet from the gun of a panicking SWAT member who had just seen a demon take four bullets to the chest and get up. Esposito had done what he could, making a tourniquet out of his belt, but it was clear that if she didn't get an ambulance soon, she wouldn't make it. He sat beside her to wait for the paramedics.

Sam came up the stairs from the basement, the look of intense fury still on his face. He wasn't happy with Ryan for not waiting for his order to play the exorcism. "Now we're never going to know who sent them," he growled, but Beckett thought he was probably angry because he hadn't got the chance to kill the demon that had hurt his brother so badly.

Ryan and Esposito insisted that Beckett and Sam leave, then. Sam Winchester was still wanted by the police, and Beckett and her team weren't meant to be part of the bust. Their presence would take a lot of explaining, and someone needed to be free to check on Castle. Also to break them out of prison if their explanation wasn't believed.

Beckett and Sam left via the back door, and she drove him back to her place. He was stonily silent the whole way, the dark expression never leaving his face, and Beckett found she was almost as afraid of him as she had been of the demons. If she hadn't seen the way he had looked at his brother, she doubted she would have let him in the car.

Sam's mood lifted when they entered her apartment. He went straight through to the bedroom as Beckett paused to stare at the symbols painted on to the walls and ceiling. Her landlord was not going to be happy. She followed Sam into her bedroom, and there was Dean, perfectly clean and lying in her bed. He was slightly propped up, duvet covering all of him except his face and one bare arm and shoulder. A vivid red scar decorated it, but otherwise he showed no sign of injury.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said sleepily, "Would you be able to get me some clothes?"

XXX

Today

"He was naked in your bed?" Castle asked. Beckett thought she could hear a little possessiveness coming through, but tried not to read too much into it.

"Really, Castle? We're telling you about a demon war and that's what you pick out?"

"Nakedness is distracting," Castle protested.

Beckett grinned. At least some things would never change.

XXX