PAIRING POLL NOW UP.

Author's notes: thanks very much to the wonderful faithunbreakable who corrected my many mistakes and listened patiently while I threw ideas at her. Long chapter, as an offering to make up for the last one and the wait. Enjoy.

Warnings: none.

-- Chapter two—

Are you there God, it's me Dean Winchester?

Dean found Bobby in the attic.

It was probably the one place he had never been allowed to go in Bobby's house and he was hesitant as he approached the creaking stairs, half expecting to see blood and horror looming above him.

The small, happily furnished bedroom, with its pictures and stacks of well thumbed books was less expected and Dean paused in the doorway, frowning as he took in the striped wallpaper and the lines of neatly arranged toy soldiers that stared at him with painted faces, their guns primed. "Bobby?" he called tentatively and stepped into the centre of room, closing his eyes as the morning light stroked at his skin tenderly.

Bobby was sat on the bed, slumped and coiled around a small box. He didn't turn around at Dean's voice and seemed to curl up tighter, shrinking before Dean's eyes. "Harry was maybe fourteen when I met him," he whispered and Dean really wished Sam was here for this, he didn't know how to comfort people. The words got lost inside him until all he had was sarcastic replies and twisted smiles. Bobby needed more than that and Dean was painfully aware of his own shortcomings.

"Your Daddy brought him round," Bobby continued and glanced up at Dean's suddenly inquisitive face. "Saved his life and then gave him to me. Harry was like family. It tears me up inside seeing him being paraded around like that."

Dean sat down next to the older hunter, perching on the edge of the small bed and glanced at the neatly made sheets and the dusty shelves. "Did he?" he began and gestured to the room, trying not to stare too deeply into the weary folds of Bobby's face and the clouded pale eyes that were unfocused with memories.

"Yeah, he slept here. You've never seen a kid so happy with a room." Bobby's hands tightened on the box that was resting in his lap and the skin on his knuckles bleached out to a desperate white.

"We'll get him back," Dean said suddenly and rested his palm on Bobby's curled up shoulders, gripping tightly at the chequered shirt as if he could convey his determination and certainty with a touch. Bobby's answering snort was full of disbelief and anger.

"He was gone a long time ago, Dean," his voice was soft with futility and he shrugged Dean away from him, placing the unopened box onto Harry's pillow with sigh. "Come on, we have research to do."

Bobby's eyes turned back to Dean and stared cool and hard down in his upturned face. "You look so much like your father sometimes."

He had turned away and was down the stairs before Dean could even think to ask what that meant.

--00--

Dean could see the hope in Sam's eyes.

It burnt brighter the more he spoke and for a moment he was scared it would set the entire house on fire. His little brother was always too hopeful for his own good, but it was nice to know he hadn't changed entirely while he was down in the pit. Sam was different now definitely but maybe the important things were still there.

"Dean, this is good news," Sam said, his voice all soft and full of emotion and Dean flinched away from it, pained to be in presence of emotion that wasn't ugly and twisted with hate and desperation. Hell had taken so many things from him that sometimes he didn't even realise their absence.

"How?"

"Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap, I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys you know?"

Dean had to look away from his brother's bright, open face and his eyes slid to the corner of the room, towards Bobby's hunched over frame but staring at the other man only made it worse. The old hunter had gone cold, his shoulders were hard and unmoving as he bent over his books, trying desperately to disappear into the pages and forget about what ever connection he had with the boy. Neither of them had told Sam about that and looking at the building hope etching itself into Sammy's features, he wished they had. Even if there was such thing as angels, Dean wasn't sure they were any better than the demons.

"Okay, say it's true. Say there's angels, then what? There's a God?"

"At this point, Vegas money's on yes," Bobby interrupted and Dean hated the hollow ring to his voice.

"Look, I know you're not choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof," Sam continued, his eyes trying to burn his own faith into them.

"Proof," Dean tried hard not to snap at Sam, and turned away from Bobby to stare disbelievingly up at his brother, as always hating the extra inches Sam had on him. "Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally? I'm sorry but I'm not buying it."

"Why?"

"Because if there is a God about out there, why would he give a crap about me?" Dean choked a little on those words. They felt too real, too true and he wondered if his brother realised the weight of them. He knew he wasn't good enough or important enough to be special, he was just Dean and just Dean did not get direct interference from an almighty power.

Sam shook his head a little at him and made to speak again but Bobby suddenly slapped a pile of books between them, apparently unwilling to wait for them to stop arguing and Dean could see the desperate need to understand and know that lay heavy across Bobby's worn features, sparking life back into those clouded, pale eyes that stared up from beneath the rim of his cap.

"Start reading," he ordered and there was a severity to his words that was unusual enough for Sam to pause and glance at the older hunter, his face darkening with confusion. Dean only just managed to cut him off before he started to question Bobby.

"You are getting me some pie," he said and waved the thinnest book he could find in Sam's face, relieved by the carefree laughter that echoed around the place.

He pretended not to notice Bobby's dead eyes as Sam left for town.

--00—

The living room was too small to ignore the interaction that Dean knew would be coming, but he tucked himself beneath the thin sheets that Bobby had provided and clamped his eyes shut hoping that his pretence of sleep would be enough.

Castiel had been stood by the window again, staring at the sky with eyes full of stars, when Dean had last glanced up and he didn't really expect the angel to have moved his vessel; sometimes it seemed the Angel forgot he even could.

"Why him?" Bobby's voice was sharp in the silence of the room and Dean tensed against his pillows, straining to hear the soft reply.

"Harry was chosen for me."

Dean winced and wasn't even surprised by the crash that followed the Angel's words. He could hear Bobby stomping across the floor, his boots kicking at their scattered things and his words choking and withering to sounds of distress that reminded Dean of a wounded animal.

"Did Harry choose it?"

There was a pause; a moment of hesitancy that was probably more telling than any answer the angel could follow up with. "We came to an agreement."

The ominous click of a safety catch was enough to make Dean scramble off the couch in shock and he stumbled blearily to stare at the scene before him. Bobby had a revolver pressed against the pale skin of Harry's forehead; black curls sliding against the barrel and Castiel's eyes were staring blankly up at the hunter; full of stars and apathy.

"Release him," Bobby growled and his eyes flickered to Dean warningly. There was too much pain in his voice for it to be a true threat but Dean didn't know what to do and watched the scene unfold feeling all hollow and confused.

"I cannot." Harry's body wavered as Bobby pressed harder against his head. Castiel's eyes were hard and unyielding before the man's grief. "You will not hurt Harry, Robert Singer. I know how much you care for my vessel."

"Don't call him that," Bobby growled but there was defeat in his words.

Castiel was silent in compliance but Dean didn't think that made it any better.

Bobby's arm went slack and it flopped against his side, the gun heavy in his shaking fingers. "Can I. Can I talk to him?"

Castiel's eyes wavered for just a second, flashing brilliant green before they retained their glowing steadiness and Dean winced in apprehension for the answer. He didn't know what it would be but it probably didn't matter. Bobby would be dissatisfied either way.

"Harry has not talked to you since he was fifteen, what makes you think he wishes to talk to you now?"

The angel's words were cool with emotionless curiosity but his eyes were flashing again and Dean thought he saw a spark of lightning flicker between windswept curls and wondered if maybe the person Castiel was possessing what a lot more awake than any of them realised.

"He's like my son," Bobby whispered and Castiel tilted the boy's head. Harry's face: heart shaped and beautiful with youth was illuminated with the golden glow of power, and the angel stared through him at Bobby's emotion with a cruel lack of understanding.

"But he is not. Harry's parents are dead."

Bobby face seemed to loosen, all the tension pouring from his skin until it sagged and folded against the bones of his skull. Dean thought he looked terribly old in that moment and hated the angel a little for hurting the man and hated the boy he was possessing for allowing this to happen, he couldn't have imagined a reason great enough to let himself get possessed.

Dean stared at the angel as he turned back to the window; Bobby's quiet footsteps echoing around them as he left. He own question was half angry and half fear; if angels could act like that he wasn't sure how helpful they were going to be. "Do you have to be so cruel?"

The angel tilted his head and his eyes were brilliantly green over the ridge of his thin shoulder, shimmering with emotion that only someone who was human could feel, "This is an act of mercy, Dean, Bobby cannot see Harry anymore. That would be truly cruel."

Dean didn't have the words to respond, but couldn't help but think that now he would always see the angel and the boy he was possessing. He wasn't sure which of them understood the least about humans.

"Why are you here?" he asked and his voice was cracking with emotion as he took in the scene that had just transpired.

"To warn you," Castiel replied calmly, still unmoving from his position facing towards the window and Dean hated him for his lack of caring and grabbed at Castiel's vessel before he realised what he was doing.

Dean was surprised that his hand had managed to wrap entirely around Harry's thin arm, his thumb and finger were nearly touching as he squeezed the flesh and Alistair's laughter was suddenly echoing in his mind. The bones beneath his hand felt delicate and human and he could imagine himself gripping tighter, pressing into the youth's tender skin until his fingertips met and the bones groaned painfully in his grasp. Alistair's laughter was deafening.

"Dean."

"Dean."

Big shatter glass green eyes were watching him calmly, empty of emotion but bright with knowing and Dean flinched away from the angel, snatching his hand away from the youth and watched guilty as the bruises blossomed like rose petals pressed into the folds of heavy parchment, tracing the delicate lines of Harry's limb.

Castiel caught his gaze once more and his eyes were full of heavenly light and soft human sympathy. "You are with us," he said softly and stepped forward until he was stood before the hunter and reached up, having to roll to the tops of his toes to be eye-level with the taller man. His hands were hot and full of static as he placed them on Dean's forehead and Dean's eyes flickered in pain at the sudden sharp feeling that raced through his head, burning at the edges of his mind.

"And we are with you," Castiel continued and stepped away, almost fading into the spilling morning light that wrapped hungrily around his thin form, his face still glowing and moving with humanity. His delicate features were a blur of gold and glitter but his eyes, sharp and violent green were smouldering with intensity. "It might be a good idea to look into 'the rising of the witnesses."

Dean didn't even have time to ask what that meant before the air was full of the sound of wings.

--00—

Dean wasn't stupid, despite the way he portrayed himself.

He knew something was up with Sam, had seen the edgy agitation that has plastered itself into every line of his brother's being. He could see the differences even if he didn't know what caused it and he would have asked except that wasn't what the Winchesters did.

Their father had set the frameworks for their stoic lack of communication, and he and Sam had perfected the contorted mixture of painful sincerity and lies that made up their relationship years ago. It used to be different because Dean had known everything there was to know about his brother, he had understood every expression and movement and single worded sentence that his brother gave. But now there was a gaping chasm that stretched unspoken and dangerous between them and Dean didn't know anything anymore.

Dean didn't understand Sam's agitation and secrets and Sam didn't notice Dean's fear and his nightmares. Asking about Sam's secrets meant he would have to share his own and Dean wasn't ready for that. His dreams were still filled with fire and blood and pain and it was only once he knew Sam had left did he allow himself to fade into sleep, knowing that the nightmare would swallow him up as always and not wishing for his brother to see him so weak.

--00—

It was only after the whole 'mark of the witness' thing had blown over that Dean finally started to think.

He didn't like where his thoughts took him. His heart was like lead, pressing and scratching away at his ribs as he curled up on Bobby's sofa. Sam's long form was folded up like cardboard across from him; his brother's too long limbs awkward as he tried to fit himself onto the narrow cushions and watching him, Dean almost asked Bobby if they could use Harry's room.

But even h wasn't that insensitive.

"Excellent job with the witnesses."

Castiel in Harry's body was stood in the light of the kitchen, his youthful face smoothed into familiar emotionless blankness. He reminded Dean of a canvass waiting to be painted on.

Dean sighed and rolled of the couch, staggering wearily to stand before the angel, "Thanks a lot for the angelic assistance." He sneered and wanted to stab his finger into Harry's narrow chest and push until the youth staggered backwards.

"You were warned." Castiel's voice sounded like a hiss and Dean watched as those great big, green eyes narrowed to slits of irritation and impatience and he felt as if he was missing something that was blatantly obvious.

"Oh yeah," he sneered back "That cryptic crap was very helpful. I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Not dicks."

Castiel face almost moved in feeling, but there was a hollow lack of understanding in his words, unable to feel the heaviness of Dean's emotion. "Read the bible, Angels are warriors of God. I am a soldier."

"And Harry," Dean demanded suddenly, "Is Harry a soldier too?"

Castiel's eyes hardened, his cheeks hollowed out until the bones in his face were sharp and blade like through the paper thin translucency of his skin and it was probably the most emotion Dean had seen the angel express and probably told much more than Dean was able to understand. "Do not ask questions you have no understanding of, Dean Winchester, you will not like the answers we give you."

Dean hesitated and for a moment was certain that Harry's hands were full of fire.

"There are many things at work." Castiel spoke and his voice was back to ringing magnificent emptiness of angels that Dean was starting to associate with Castiel. "We have bigger concerns than just humans."

"And let me guess I don't want to know what those concerns are?"Dean asked slowly and Castiel's mouth quirked in something that would have been amusement if the angel knew how to be amused and the looming soldier was gone, replaced by the possessed thin, green eyed waif that was in some ways more disturbing.

"I sincerely doubt you want to, but you need to know." Castiel stepped away from Dean and his hands moved at his sides, thin fingers brushing at the material of his jeans as if they were struggling against something. "The rising of the witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals. Those seals are being broken by Lilith."

"Well, we put those souls back to rest," Dean interrupted and Harry's eyes flickered with emotion before Castiel's celestial essence swallowed him in a burst of sunlight and stars and emptiness once more.

"It doesn't matter, the seal was broken."

Dean hesitated and stared searchingly at Harry's face, trying to find some hint of the boy that so obviously lingered beneath the surface of the angel's power. There was nothing there and Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why break the seals anyway?"

Castiel stared hard at Dean; his hands were twitching at his sides again, tracing the seams of his jeans nervously. "Think of the seals like locks on a door, once the final seal is broken Lucifer walks free."

"And that's why you're here? To stop Lucifer?" Dean asked and Castiel tilted his head slightly to one side as if listening to someone over his shoulder whispering in his ear.

"That's why we arrived."

Dean didn't dare ask where he or Harry fitted into this and Castiel's star lit eyes told him that the angel didn't really care. There was nothing of Harry in that gaze and Castiel seemed further from humanity that ever before without him.

It was with a choked scream that he awoke on Bobby's couch.

--00--

"Sleep well, Dean?"

Dean shot upright gasping and for a moment all he could see was the bright colour of Castiel's eyes, full of stars and sunlight and pushing away the darkness of his dreams.

He didn't ask what the angel was doing watching him sleep, not anymore, Dean had been dragged out of his nightmare by Castiel's soft voice one too many times to question the Angel's presence at his bedside. But despite always being greeted by Castiel's emotionless voice, it was Harry's sympathetic, knowing eyes that watched as he recovered for those nightmares. He wondered who was actually interfering in his dreams sometimes.

"Cas...," he moaned and flopped back against the pillows. Fear made slug trails of sweat slither down between his eyes and Dean rubbed at his forehead wearily, glad Sam wasn't here to see him.

Castiel glanced at him over the thin ridge of Harry's shoulder, his face smoothed out to marble consistency. He was perched on the edge of the bed like a porcelain doll, all immobile limbs and glass eyes and without anything human going on behind his pretty face. His small, tense form left the sheets without the slightest impression as he stood up and Dean couldn't help but trace his eyes along the youth's neck just to make sure there was the faint movement of his throat that signalled he was breathing.

"Dean, you should not leave Sam alone."

"Yeah, so you've said," Dean scoffed and rolled off the end of the bed, happy to put the furniture between himself and the angel. Castiel's lack of humanity scared him sometimes, especially when his eyes were still burning with images of Alistair and Lilith and a hundred other demonic vessels: they had a lack of humanity too.

Castiel blinked patiently back at him and stood unmoving while Dean threw on a rumpled shirt and peered at his eyes in the small, cracked mirror that hung over the bed. His eyes were wide and shadowed; the lack of sleep had left purple bruises pressing his skin deep into skull. Dean sighed and resisted the urge to smash his fist against the mirror.

"You are not sleeping," Castiel stated suddenly and the angel shifted almost awkwardly on his feet, his face contorted into an expression of pained sympathy.

Dean rolled his eyes and stomped off to the bathroom, calling sarcastically over his shoulder "Yeah, well, you try sleeping with a creepy tax accountant watching you."

"I do not sleep."

Dean smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror and shook his head in amusement, bending his head to run his face under the shockingly cold water, it was like a slap, waking him up and Dean was glad of it. His recent insomnia meant he had been living a life of redbull and coffee and his hands were starting to twitch will all the caffeine.

"All right Cas, what is it you want?"

Castiel was stood in exactly the same spot Dean had left him and the only movement of his face was the slight frown that had folded in between his dark eyebrows, making his eyes narrow into slit of violent colour that looked all the more shocking against his paper thin skin.

"Dean, Sam is going down a dangerous path. You must stop him or we will." the angel paused and Dean would have scoffed except that he seemed serious and Castiel hadn't shown he had a humorous bone in his body.

"Oh yeah well, he always did like playing in the woods." Dean joked, trying to ignore the nervous prickling that raced along the muscles of his back.

Castiel didn't move, he never did but there was something so ironically human in his next words that Dean couldn't help but wonder if Harry was speaking to him as well. "He has dangerous playmates."

Dean froze and fear hit the back of his throat, clogging and knotting up his tongue. "Where is he?"

"425 Waterman." And with that the green eyed man disappeared to the sound of fluttering wings.

--00—

It was that demon bitch: Ruby.

Dean could recognise her self-satisfied smirk anywhere. It didn't matter that she had changed her meat-suit, he could all but see the evil crawling and slithering behind her pretty face with every smile she flashed at his brother. His anger was fire and ice, burning through him so hard that his knees felt weak as he watched them with the possessed man and he pressed his face against the cool metal of the doorway, hoping the frozen frame would temper the heat of his rage.

Sam's irises bled black and his brother's physic mojo crap pulsated beneath his skin, threatening to erupt ugly and dark out of his eyes. The tied up demon choked on its own smoke and Dean was breathless as the concrete floor around them burnt and smouldered black and red until there was just a maze of ashes and sparks and a bloody man roped to a chair left.

"How did it feel?" Ruby asked, touching Sam's shoulder in a mockery of comfort.

"Good." Sam replied and bent to untie the unconscious man, "No more headaches."

Ruby's smirk stretched wide and ugly across her face as they started to lead the man towards the door, his bloody torso slung like a carcass between their smiles and idiocy. Dean made sure he blocked their way, leaning against the doorway and staring half angry, half horrified at the scene before him.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Sam?" he demanded and they froze and their eyes met in a moment too full of emotion to ever really understand. There was a moment when he wasn't sure what Sam would do and hated himself for preparing to fight his own brother.

"Dean. Wait, let me...," Sam began and Dean wanted to smack the words right out of his mouth.

"If you say 'explain', so help me God," he interrupted and Sam flinched away from him, pressing himself unknowingly against Ruby and the man now solely in her grasp.

The demon rested her hand on his brother's arm, curling her delicate fingers around his muscles and staring benevolently up at Dean, her smile twisted and fanged. Her eyes flashed demon black "Hello Dean. Good to see you again."

Dean only vaguely heard Sam's cry of no as he rushed at Ruby. Surprise and the unconscious man caught the demon off guard and he managed to twist the knife around her arms and press its tip against her chest, pushing hard enough so that every breath she took stabbed the needle point into her skin. Sam grabbed at his arms and his added weight meant that Ruby was able to slither like a snake from his grasp and they tumbled and fell in a tangle of limbs and hatred until she had her hands wrapped around his throat and her nails were slicing the flesh of his neck threateningly.

"Ruby, stop it!"

Sam's cry made Ruby stop, but her hands were still coiled around his neck and she hesitated long enough for Dean to realise that they would fight again and one of them would have to die when that happened.

"Aren't you an obedient demon bitch," he sneered and staggered upright, ignoring Ruby's angry, dark face and Sam's mournful expression. Sam reached out to and started to try and explain, but Dean just shrugged him off.

"Dean please, I know it looks bad."

"Looks bad!" Dean struck his brother then, hitting him hard enough that his knuckles cracked and Sam should have hit the floor. Except he didn't but the crunch of bone was almost good enough. "Do you have any idea how bad this is? How far off the beaten track you have wandered."

"I'm helping people!" Sam retorted and Dean hated the sincerity that shone out of his brother's bruised face. It would have been easier if Sam hadn't believed in what he was doing, he might have been easier to control. The demon had manipulated him good. "I've saved more lives in the past two months than we saved in years. This is a good thing!"

Dean hit him again and this time Sam did tumble to the floor, staggering beneath his anger and falling into Ruby's expectant arms. She hissed like an angry cat up at him and her fingers, still coloured with the tiny specks of his blood tangled themselves protectively into Sam's shirt.

"If this is a good thing, why are the angels telling me stop you then?" Dean demanded and Sam's face closed up before his words, the purpose and hope in his eyes disappearing like a flame doused with water.

"The angels?" he asked quietly and Dean was reminded of them growing up and his brother asking if their dad was going to come back alive, all big eyes and worry.

"Cas, told me to stop you or he would. He told me she was dangerous."

Ruby's eyes flashed demon black once again and her forehead knotted in emotion that seemed out of place, pulling her skin tight in an expression that Dean didn't quite understand. "He told you that?" She demanded and dropped Sam to face Dean on her feet. "Castiel or Harry told you?"

Dean hesitated and both of them stared at Ruby as her mouth twisted up into a smear of wine coloured lips and disdainful mockery.

"You know, you should really check your own friends before you go throwing stones at other people." She glanced over at Sam and something passed between them, something that made his brother's face smooth out to terrifying acceptance. "I'd look into Castiel's vessel if I were you. You might be surprised what you find."

Ruby grinned at the silence that met her words "I'm not the only thing that you should be hunting."

--00--

Okay, so this story is now planned out mostly with a few variables. Mainly being pairings. Please vote in the poll on my profile. The story is planned for around 15 chapters long and will start of following season four but end up differing greatly.

Reviews make me write and post faster. Promise.