Title: The Downpour at the End

Chapter 4: Headlights on the Highway

A/N: This chapter was inspired by Headlights on the Highway- Ron Pope. I think it describes, perfectly, what's going on in Dean's head even though he does not realize or accept it yet. Hope you close your eyes while you listen and (hopefully) like it! Oh, and just keep in mind that some things that happened in episode 21, 22 and most of the finale, did NOT happen in my fic - refer to the A/N in the 'Prologue'. I don't want you confused, yo!

-Chapter 4: Headlights on the Highway-

Dean could feel his pulse ascend and like the heat in the room had been turned up by 30 degrees; pearls of glistening sweat started developing on his brow. He tried to stare anywhere but at the scene that was now unraveling right in front of him; his eyes darting from medical objects to the lights, to the floor and back. His mouth had lost all of its moisture and he found it impossible to keep his tongue from sticking to the back of his throat. Dean, in his mind, was frantically trying to figure out why he had been so out of it these last couple of hours, or even days.

The normal composed and in control Dean had been nowhere to be found and instead the crazy, alienated Dean had been roaming around his brain seeking attention from all the memories, discomfort, rage and irritation; vibrating and inflaming every nerve. It made Dean feel uncomfortable that for once in his life he was not being himself. He was being controlled completely by his emotions and with the little experience he had in that department of life, he knew it was not good. Not for him, not for anybody. He had no idea why seeing Castiel like this made him react this way.

Dean's eyes swiveled back to their initial point of departure. The sight he witnessed stirred up a feeling that he had never felt in his life. In front of him, pale skin had been revealed, a torso with sharp lines and soft edges. It was as if Castiel's complexion was murmuring softly at Dean to edge closer. The skin was clammy and a light pink, innocent, but something drew Dean's attention and when the sight finally made him realize what he was seeing, Dean felt a hammer pounding into his gut, knocking most of the awe and confusion from his system.

On the soft plains of Castiel's chest the remnants of the angel-banishing sigil was rising and falling with each of the angel's steady breaths. The rough, scarlet circle with smaller markings inside and around it was almost glowing, as if the power it possessed was still flowing through the seams of the scar. If Dean did not know how old the mark was, he would have guessed that it had only just started healing a week or two before. He did not dwell on the fact that the scar had not yet completely vanished, with all the things Castiel had made through. His eyes were fixed on it, his mind recalling the memory of the angel helping them gain access to the warehouse where Zachariah was keeping Adam, banishing half a dozen angels, including Castiel himself.

More sacrifice. More discomfort for the people Dean held close to home.

As if a light had been switched on, Dean found himself staring into his own soul, reflecting on his behavior from the days past. He could see the disappointment of his actions in himself, feel the confusion as it started to fade just barely noticeable and hear his soul scream from afar to come back – to regain control.

Dean did not realize his hand reaching out. He was regarding the mutilated torso of the angel, tracing each line with his gaze repeatedly. It was oddly, a beautiful picture, the contrast of the soft skin fighting to be noticed against the hard, ugly yet mesmerizing scarring. Dean noticed Castiel's breathing growing deeper and deeper as he kept on staring at the angel. He was captivated at what his eyes were revealing and he wanted to touch. He wanted to feel. He wanted to hold it in his solid hands.

"…Dean?" Castiel enquired.

Dean snapped out of his trance and looked into the angel's azure eyes, retracted his hand and cleared his throat, "Uh… Yeah, let me check out your cut." He could not help but feel a stream of disappointment flood his emotions. In the same breath, his moment of clarity was washed away by the overwhelming bewilderment of his situation.

Castiel leaned back a little and revealed a nasty, deep gash in his abdomen. Blood had started clotting around the ragged opening, but some of the red fluid was still leaking, flowing from the wound, the magical essence intertwining with it and dispersing seconds after making contact with the elements outside of the angel's body. Dean cleared his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand; to help Castiel. There was no more time for yelling, freaking out or losing it. He just had to help.

Dean started working. He retrieved some gauze from a nearby container and applied pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The palm of his hand was pressing hard against Castiel. His fingers trembling as he tried to remember his first-aid skills, his brain completely empty. The tips of his fingers slightly grazed the skin over Castiel's hipbones. Electricity shot through his digits emblazoning every molecule in his body. Dean could feel his eyes roll over in his head due to the sheer pleasure mixed with disturbance he was experiencing; all that from just touching the angel's skin. It made Dean's insides turn in a weird way he could not explain. It reminded him of the sensation he got when he tickled the roof of his mouth with his tongue too much, a feeling between disgust and pure orgasmic delight.

The angel must have felt it too because the skin under Dean's fingers had reacted to the touch guilelessly and immediately a slow wave of chills were now blowing from his hipbones all the way up is side. I silent tremor shot through the holy being's body. Dean could see Cas' eyes were closed now, biting his thin and chapped lips. It made Dean feel uneasy. And before Dean had any time to analyze the situation, his mind pulled him back to reality and urged him to continue with tending to the wounded.

"Take this," he told the angel before he walked over to another table close by, leaving Castiel to put pressure on his injury, "We gotta clean this first before we sew you up again. Now, I'm no doctor, but I guess I can make you look better than that sorry Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz."

Castiel remained quiet where he was sitting, but Dean could feel the angel's unenlightened frown and inquisitive tilt of his neck.

Dean shook his head and smirked as he was preparing the suture-kit, "I'll probably have to find you a brain too then."

"Dean, I am not sure if I know what you are speaking of. My vessel contains a brain within its skull?"

"Forget it, Cas. Just… Forget it!" Dean said, finishing up, and returning back to Castiel with the suture-kit and disinfectant, looking displeased at the angel for once again not getting his references. At least Dean was being more accommodating than before. Jesus, more than the last few days.

Dean placed the medical equipment he was carrying on the operating table next to Castiel, the angel eyeing his every move with curious intent. He stepped in between Castiel's parted legs and blew out a long, shallow breath as he regarded the wound. It looked horrible and if Castiel hadn't been an angel it would surely have been septic by now.

Hesitantly, Dean continued, dipping a large fold of cotton wool in lukewarm water that was mixed with some heavy duty, in-the-field-war-disinfectant; not the usual stuff they bought at the drug store. He beckoned for Castiel to remove the gauze the angel was using to stop the last of the bleeding. Castiel obliged and Dean quickly covered the wound with the soaked cotton.

A trembling gasp of pain slipped from Castiel's lips as the disinfectant seeped into the gash, burning and eating away at the bacteria. Dean flinched and looked up in shock to see the angel clenching his eyes like he wasn't letting those holy aquamarines from ever seeing the light of day again.

"Dude, you're an angel… What the hell?"

Through gritted teeth, Castiel, trying to calm himself, snarled, "We have been through this, Dean. Naomi is draining my Grace. I cannot use the amount of Grace I have left to numb the pain that is being experienced by my vessel, just to make my life easier, when I can use it for so much more. "

Dean's expression mimicked that of someone who had just been slapped through the face as he realized the repercussions of what Naomi was doing to Castiel and Ion.

"Cas-"

"Yes, Dean, in due time all of my Grace will be drained and I will be human. I will have nothing to protect you or anybody else for that matter."

The emphasis in Castiel's words made Dean snap out of his shock and his defenses to spurt around him like wildfire. "There isn't a lot of demon or angel activity to protect us from, Cas. So suck it up, big guy. I got to get these stitches in."

He jumped back to work and cleaned Castiel's wound, ignoring the flinching and the sounds coming from the angel. Every touch, every graze of fingers against angelic skin sent that now familiar bolt of energy through Dean's body. Dean struggled to ignore it, clearing his mind from it all and meticulously sewing shut the cut in Castiel stomach.

Time stood still as Dean worked, but the fatigue he had been experiencing recently and the stress and emotional output of securing Crowley and dealing with his current situation, between feeling as if he wanted to beat Castiel for being so irresponsible to leave with the Tablet, and forgiving the angel for his actions, caught up with him. His hands were going numb and his vision was becoming more blurry with each lingering second.

He shook his head to focus and think about something else, something to keep his mind from wandering into the territories of his brain that did not need any visits. Dean's mind finally focused on a cloudy question.

"So I guess Jake Gyllenhaal couldn't heal you either?" Dean asked, realizing too late that his words would make no sense to Castiel, "I mean, that Ion-dude, if Naomi is draining his mojo too?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably where he was seated, his face turning away from Dean. His hands were squirming slowly on the edges of the operating table, like a little boy's hands that was on the brink of being discovered of doing something bad.

Dean noticed the shift in the air immediately and squinted up to see a nervous and troubled Castiel staring into the lights. "Cas, it's a few stitches. Come on! It's not that bad."

"No, Dean. It is not that," Castiel said without looking back at the Winchester, "I need to tell you something. I feel the need to be honest with you."

"It's about goddamn time." Dean replied, rolling his eyes and resuming his handiwork by tightening the last suture, and cleaning the newly, held-together skin with a few soft swipes of the disinfectant. "There. That should hold up till the skin starts reattaching again."

Castiel's whole body shuddered in relief. He heaved a sigh and cleared his throat as he looked down, "Thank you…"

Dean could not be sure if Castiel was looking at his stomach or at his knees, as he waited for the angel to say what he was holding in.

"You're stalling 'cause I'm not gonna like what you have to share, right?"

"Dean, you must understand…"

"Get on with it, Cas." Dean interjected, gathering most of the medical supplies and discarding the used ones.

"Ion's Grace, like mine, is being drained by Naomi and the Host-" Castiel started.

Dean nodded as he returned to the angel, holding a large covering for Castiel's wound. He pasted it carefully to the angel's, now dry, skin and with a soft but firm swipe of his hand he made sure that the covering was clinging to skin and would not fall off, keeping the wound safe from unwanted bacteria hanging around in the air and to keep the wound dry.

"-but Ion would have used his Grace to heal me. He is one of the most loyal angels I have had the honor of working with. He was in my Garrison, one of my subordinates. He would shift mountains for me and more, like I would to my superiors at the time, even though his use of Grace is also being limited."

Dean frowned at Castiel, "And you were too proud to let him do his duties and heal you?"

Castiel ignored Dean's snide remark and continued, "It is not just that, Dean. Ion… His Grace is dirty. It has been compromised."

At Castiel's last word, Dean's worry and anger started whispering at him from the pit of his stomach. He knew something was off. He knew everything had been running, despite some bumps and potholes along the way, too smoothly. He knew there was more to the angel's attempts at telling Dean about what had been going on in Castiel's life these past couple of days, weeks.

Dean lifted his hands to his temples and rubbed at the stab of pain emanating from inside, "Compromised how?"

Castiel straightened in his sitting position, wincing at the uncomfortable pull and aches in his abdomen. He seemed to have shaken his guilty-looking demeanor and hesitancy to talk openly to Dean; or that is what Dean thought.

"Ion, being one of the angel's closest to me, has also been one of Naomi's victims." Castiel said.

Dean bit back a scream of frustration and slowly grounded out, "Stalling again, Cas. I know that bitch is draining his…"

"No, Dean, listen!" Castiel snapped, "Ion has been through the same torment as I have been. Naomi has been sauntering around in his mind, drilling for information for months. After finally giving up and not extracting any worthy piece of information from his mind, Naomi altered his mind and sent him after me, to retrieve the Angel Tablet."

"So, he is one of Naomi's slaves and you brought him here?" Dean exclaimed.

"He used to be, Dean. I broke through to him in Crowley's office when Ion was keeping watch over me. I made him realize what had been done to him and we escaped together."

"Wait! Hold up, Cas! What was Ion doing in Crowley's dump?" Dean asked closing his eyes, afraid of hearing the answer.

"Dean, please listen to me before you react. And try not to be irrational?" the angel pleaded.

The Winchester gave a disbelieving smile, not really sure he was ready for the next words out of Castiel's mouth, bit his bottom lip while closing his eyes tightly and nodding his head.

"Ion, feeling betrayed by Naomi and her less than Holy ways, realized that Heaven and the Host were becoming all the more corrupt-" Castiel's dusty, low voice broke a little as he tried to continue, "-and he entered into a contract with Crowley."

Dean felt every ounce of control inside of his being, latch onto the tendons, muscles, hinges of his physical body, like vines in an enchanted forest, restraining and imprisoning its victim. Dean's disgust and shock slashed at these vines like a sword enveloped in fire, as Dean struggled internally. He wanted to listen and hear Castiel's explanations, his irresponsible and stupid reason, and on the other hand he wanted to scream and lash out at the angel. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to break something and get rid of his sudden rage.

Dean started inhaling and exhaling deeply, centering himself until the majority of his fury subsided into some small fiery coals burning in the back of his mind.

"You brought a corrupt angel here? You dragged a demon's slave-angel right into our laps? And you trusted him with where we are, while you knew he was being controlled by Crowley? And you trusted an angel, who has been mind-fucked by Naomi, with the exact location of the Angel Tablet?"

"Dean, I trust Ion. He is one of the closest brothers I have. I would sacrifice my own life for him." Castiel said, determined to make Dean understand.

Dean could feel the arrow of ice and dirt and rusted steel splinter through his heart, as a second one hit him, a third, another, as Castiel's sharp tongue shot the words at him. Castiel trusted the bad angel more than Dean himself. Castiel had said it. Castiel had meant it. It was a soul-deafening blow and Dean gave in.

He could feel the fiery sword inside of him finally breaking through the restraints that were keeping him from losing his mind, losing command over his body and losing his resoluteness of forgiving his best friend.

"Where is the Angel Tablet?" Dean bit through clenched teeth.

"It is safely hidden…"

"Where is the Angel Tablet?"

"Ion and I have stored it in a setting where no one would find it, but us." Castiel responded innocently, but also realizing that Dean's attitude had once again resumed that of a raging bull in a Matador's Arena.

"Us? Us?! You mean you and Ion. There is no 'us' anymore. There is no more 'Team Free Will'. There is no more 'family'. Sam is dying; I am at the end of my rope here. There is no more 'you and me', Castiel! You come in here and you spout the same shit over again about not trusting me, not trusting anybody and you turn up and tell me you put the trust I deserved into a goddamn, dirty angel? But you know what; I don't need your trust. I don't need your apologies. I need nothing from a failing, self-engrossed angel with severe Daddy-issues…"

"Stop!" Castiel loudly interjected.

"Angels are limited. You can't function without following orders or rules. You can't do anything but follow and listen. Now I know why God left all you winged angel-bastards stranded in that shit-hole. I would have done the same. I would have been ashamed and-"

Without warning or a second to react Dean felt his feet forcefully lift off of the ground beneath him. He felt a god-like grip on his face as a palm drove upwards into his chin, the fingers accompanying it with unimaginable force, digging into his cheeks. The blow made Dean's head crash into the wall behind him, sending blinding pain through his brain. It happened in a fraction of a second, and took Dean what seemed like a lifetime to grasp.

A fierce thrust from Castiel's knee made contact with the human's solar plexus, compelling an ugly sound from Dean's throat as the wind from his lungs blasted out, mixing with spit and blood. Dean's eyes were tearing up as he tried to take a gulp of the suddenly unavailable supply of air. He could feel Castiel press violently into his body, both of them floating mere inches from the ground, Dean's back smashing into the wall.

"Will you desist?!" Castiel said threateningly, every word emphasized with a sharp cut of air.

Dean could not reply. He had no air in his lungs to even breathe; talking was out of the question. He tried to open his eyes and focus on the angel, but his fear was keeping him back; keeping him from facing what he started, from looking the beast he had poked, in the eye.

"You forget sometimes, Dean Winchester, that I am still an Angel of the Lord. I am a celestial being far greater than the creation you are. Angels were created from the Fires of the First Sun and we have been around for millennia, worshipping and training, studying and obeying. Our powers are unimaginable to you, incomparable to the arts you have seen me perform. I am stronger and faster than your petty little thoughts can comprehend. I am more intelligent. And my obedience to my Father has been the core of my development and growth as an Angel - obedience you and your kind never quite got the handle of. And that, Dean, is going to be your hardest and last downfall; not obeying, not knowing where your place in the Order of Creation is. "

Dean slowly opened his eyes as he felt Castiel's cold breath on his face. The angel was regarding him as a piece of meat, an inanimate object with no worth whatsoever. The normal blue eyes were now alight with a piercing white glow.

"You dare mock me and my Father – my Father's decisions? You dare stand in front of an Angel and speak out with a sullied tongue? You dare blaspheme beyond my tolerance? I will not allow it anymore, Dean Winchester! You will show respect towards me and towards my beliefs. You will listen to reason and believe my every word, like I have done you, many a times over. You will regain control over yourself, over the man I once knew, over the man I care for – the man I… I-"

Like a branch of thick, poison ivy had been ripped from Dean's stomach, exiting his throat and mouth, he felt his first breath come back to him. Dean spluttered and roared as he felt the oxygen expand his lungs and burn inside his chest. He could still feel the angel's unmoving grip on him.

"Cas… Cas-ti-el… You… y-you left. You didn't… didn't trust me…" Dean struggled to utter, "How… how can I ever… ever again… trust you?" he pleaded questioningly.

Dean could only make out a small hesitant look on Castiel's face before the angel started speaking again.

"I did not leave you because I did not trust you, Dean. I left because I did not trust myself with you."

Dean's focus on the angel's face in his personal bubble cleared up by the second and Dean managed to catch Castiel staring intently at Dean's lips. Castiel breathed a low, dusty sigh that sounded to Dean as if the angel was backing down.

"I started to become more human, more emotional as time grew on," the angel admitted, shifting his gaze to the floor as the glow in his eyes started to recede, "I became too close, too attached to the people in my charge, to you."

Dean felt Castiel's hold on him soften and both of their bodies slowly descending towards the floor. Dean did not move his eyes from the angel's direction, too afraid of stepping out of line or losing track of what the angel was saying. He might have been snapped out of his recent confusion-orgy but he had a whole new set of questions filling his mind as the angel spoke on. He was not terrified; he was minutely intrigued by the angel's confession.

"While Naomi was in my head, I envisaged some interesting yet impossible thoughts, some of them hidden in my subconscious, others brought on by the intrusion of my privacy, and-"

"Cas…" Dean finally managed to say, trying to sound more sympathetic and sorry than he had been, trying to console the angel from the stuff he had seen in his head, whatever they might have been.

Castiel looked up from his feet, his face closer to Dean's than it had ever been. Dean could feel the sweet, warm scent of magnolias, a mix of lemons and vanilla, as Cas' breath intoxicated him. He could see the rueful look in those angelic eyes, as if Castiel wanted to kill himself for what he had just done, for hurting one of his charges. And Dean couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy…

Dean eyes flicked to Castiel's lips, the usual pink was now engulfed with a deeper, ethereal rose pigment. They were softer and plump.

"Forgive me, Dean-" Castiel whispered, closing his eyes.

Dean felt the atmosphere change before he saw what was happening. Castiel was leaning closer. Castiel was coming right at him, with his fragile lips and his eyes closed and Dean; Dean just froze.

A loud crash came from the main room of the Lair. It snapped both the angel and human from their 'predicament', both fumbling and clearing their throats as they looked opposite ways. Dean's mind was racing and he could feel Castiel killing himself from the inside, cursing himself for treating Dean this way.

In a blink of an eye, Castiel had crossed the room, Dean short on his heels, as Dean grabbed the angel's wrist. Castiel stopped dead in his tracks and carefully turned his head to look at Dean. His face was broken with all kinds of emotions you would never see on any angel. Except this guy, Dean thought. Except, my angel.

Dean cleared his mind and locked his gaze on the angel's, accompanying it with a soft, reassuring squeeze of his hand, "Cas, would you… would you forgive me?"

Castiel slipped from Dean's grip on his wrist, turned his back to the Winchester and started buttoning the front of his ripped and soiled shirt. He continued by fixing his tie and Dean could feel Castiel breathing slowly and roughly.

"It is not in my nature to keep a grudge, Dean. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for," And with that the angel opened the door of the infirmary and strolled out, "Let us see what the commotion outside is about."

Dean followed the angel, lost in his own thoughts, "I told Kevin to stay in his room."

Abaddon could feel hundreds, no, thousands of eyes following her movements, as she paced patiently in front of her growing crowd. Crowley had finally reached the Winchesters and her plan was running as it was supposed to. The pawns were set, the armies were gathered and the 'allies', the term she used to sway her sisters into joining her campaign, were being briefed on the mission.

She stopped mid-pace, turned towards her onlookers, her followers, her children and folded her arms in front of her. A cunning smile spread over her face as she witnessed the scope of her minions, her power, her influence. A quiver of delight spread through her meat-suit as she experienced for the first time in decades the feeling of pure bliss, pure bottled up wrath and oncoming success.

With the slight lift of her eyebrow the doors of the building they were in, slammed shut and the noise emitting from the demons before her died down. She waited. She wanted full attention. She wanted every eye and every ear to be poised at her. Her Knights were flanking her, staring down every demon who had not heard the Queen of Hell's cue of silence.

"My children, the time has come for us to take what is ours. With my permission, you have the right to go forth and kill every human, kill every animal, kill every living organism and destroy Earth."

Cheers were flooding from the crowd. Some roars and demonic growls could be heard too.

"Our goal is to lure out the Winchesters-" she started being cut off by nasty, yet beautiful to her ears, insults, swearing and threats to the boys, "but you have no jurisdiction to kill them. The Winchesters are mine! Kill, spoil and pillage… But, bring Dean and Sam directly to me."

A rumble of acquiescence droned through the hall they were standing in.

"Be aware, that Angels and Creatures will also be spilling onto Earth-" she was cut off again by angry protesting and spitting, "-but don't worry…"

Silence fell.

"Kill them too!"

Dean and Castiel entered the main hall of the Lair to witness a sight neither of them expected to see, or neither of them wanted to ever see again. Dean felt the color drain from his face as he stared into almost-black eyes regarding him as he walked into the main hall of the Lair.

"Are you lovers done quarreling?" Crowley's voice spilled gleefully over the glass of whiskey he was holding in front of him, seated at the table in the center of the room, his legs spread out before him on top an ottoman. No. His legs were relaxing on Ion's back, as the angel crouched in embarrassment, tears dripping from his sullen face. Dean's entire body was in shock. All he could sense was that the other angel had never been so humiliated before.

"I hope you don't mind me helping myself to some Scotch? I was quite thirsty. You circled me with so much salt, I became dangerously de-moisturized," Crowley laughed at his own joke.

"Dean, a little help here…" Dean's heart skipped a million beats and he realized from across the room, Kevin and Sam were tied up in Crowley's abandoned chains.

Dean reacted without questions, the angel blade in his back pocket brandished at the ready, almost leaping at Crowley who still had that smirk donned on his mug. Something caught him mid-air and he felt Castiel pull him back, giving his shoulders a dominant, yet reassuring pressure as he did so.

"Dean, wait!" the angel said, "Crowley, even if you don't believe it, is here to aid in our dilemma. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you-"

"Jesus, Cas. I can't believe you. Don't you see? It's a fucking trap." Dean screamed, wrestling against Castiel's grasp.

"No, Dean. It is not. Crowley has not killed anybody." Castiel reassured Dean.

"He hasn't killed anybody yet, Cas! What's wrong with you? Let me go or I will hurt you too!" Dean threatened.

Unexpectedly, Dean heard his brother's fragile and broken voice, "Dean, listen to Castiel. Just chill, okay. We're fine. Kevin and I are fine. We're just, ugh, tied up," Sam tried to convince his brother, "Castiel has a point. We're not dead. Besides, you're the one who invited Crowley in. That's why is even able to be in here with all warding and enchantments against demons. So, just… just listen."

Dean felt his brain explode from overheating. He could not believe his ears. Everyone he knew, everyone still alive, was now ready to listen to Crowley – the demon who had been the eternal piece of fucking shit under their shoes. And he invited the demon to come in? Was this a joke? Was this some sort of sick vampire-parody? No entry without invitation? Jesus…

"If it makes you feel anymore safe, boy, I may have escaped from your little Houdini-setup right there, but look," Crowley said, turning his head and pulling down his collars, "I haven't touched the nice markings you gave me. I am still bound, no demon tricks up my sleeve."

"Then how did you escape? How did you do all this? How are you controlling Ion?"

The answers came to Dean as the words left his lips. He knew now what had been in store, what he had been afraid of.

Crowley saw the realization in Dean's eyes, "Yes, Dean, you are getting quicker by the second. Ion is still my winged slave-boy. He is still under contract. He does whatever I tell him. Nifty little asset I have here." He finished, kicking at Ion's ribs.

Dean managed to whip at the expanding fury inside of him as he looked back at Castiel with an expression that screamed "how did you not know this, for God's sake"! Castiel simply shrugged and stared back at Crowley waiting for the answer.

"Oh, and did I mention that Ion's contract prohibits him from ever speaking of our agreement? Lovely little section I snuck in there." The demon said with excitement on his tongue.

Dean recollected himself. He tried to obey his brother and Castiel's pleadings, obey like what was expected from him, by Castiel, by the Order of Creation. He let out a soft, growl before he spoke, and for the first time that day, Dean gave in.

"Say I give you the benefit of the doubt, Crowley, which is probably the hardest thing I am going to do today; what do you possibly have of interest for us? What will you do to help us and how will I know this is not some trap?"

"This is not a trap, even though I would love to pick the bones from Kevin's body. How do you know I won't swing my ass in another direction? I will keep your mark on me. I will stay immobilized until you need me. How can I help? I not only have Ion under contract, but a small army of demons too. And if they do not comply with my wishes, far worse things will happen than Abbadon can ever do them. You remember my poor baby, the cute little pup Moose killed a while back? That was only one of the puppies in my kennel. I bred them, I own them. "

Crowley reached for the bottle of whiskey in front of him, filled his glass to the rim and held it aloft as if making a toast to Dean, regarding the ball of the glass as it shimmered in the light and sent beautiful rays of amber in every direction.

"And what do I have of interest? I know things, Dean. I know a great deal of things. I know for instance, that Abbadon is on the move. She's coming. She's coming for you. "

Another A/N: As per usual, reviews, comments and PM's are my life. Please drop me some if you feel the need. Next chapter coming soon... Feel free to give requests and share this fic with others. Draw fan art and go absolutely bat shit crazy! I won't mind. Follow me on tumblr too; my URL is durzob - Love you***