Dean stayed in the basement for a long time after Alternative-Reality-Sam had left, trying to gather his clusterfuck of thoughts. Honestly, it was a miracle he was still thinking clearly, given his situation. He deserved a little time to recover.

So he was stranded somewhere in the past if the lack of technology and clothing style was anything to go by. It also seemed that some version of Castiel was somewhere close by, although if Sam's reaction to hearing his name was any indication, he wasn't the Castiel that Dean knew; he wasn't Cas. But it was a start, and finding this Castiel could be a step in the right direction of finding his way back to his own timeline. From there he could contact Bobby and together they could track down Sam and Castiel, and at a pinch maybe Gabriel, before then getting the angel-hunt on. But first things first; he had to get out of here.

When he finally re-emerged, it was to discover Sam and John outside, strapping a tall chestnut-coloured horse to a small cart. Dean barely supressed a shudder at the sight; his hunting instincts flared every time his father came near, and he had to wrestle with himself not to go for the nearest weapon. Sam looked up as he approached and shot him a rather apprehensive look, but otherwise gave no hint to what they had discussed earlier. John at any rate didn't seem to notice a thing, and told Dean to check that make sure everything was securely attached while he and Sam went to carry the wood-cutter outside.

As soon as the heel of Sam's boots vanished back into the house, Dean turned his gaze sky-ward and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew it was a long shot, but at that moment he was willing to try anything. "I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass here."

Nothing happened.

"C'mon Cas, I know you're here somewhere."

Nothing but the neighing of the horse before him answered. No flapping wings, no gravelly voice from behind him in direct violation of his personal space, no Cas. Which could mean either of two things. One, Castiel wasn't actually there, and the thing Sam was so scared of was just another addition to this bizarre dimension. Or two, Castiel was here somewhere, and stuck. Either way, Dean wasn't going to get an answer by standing there, shouting at thin air. Unless..

"Alright, jackass." He began angrily, now turning on the spot to survey his surroundings. "I know one of you feathered dicks is behind this, and you have freaky-ass ways of teaching lessons. That what this is? Another lesson? Well, I ain't got time to waste here. Just come and tell me what the point of all this is, where you've zapped Cas off to, and how the hell we can get out of here."

But once again, nothing but silence answered him. Dean only had time to mutter a curse under his breath before John and Sam reappeared, struggling with the weight of the haphazard invention. Abandoning the horse, Dean hurried over to help and between them they managed to heave the contraption into the cart. Once it had been secured, John clapped a hand on Sam's back, wished him luck and then headed back to the house. He swung another quiver of arrows that had been propped against the wall over his shoulder, waved once at them, before taking the winding path towards a small village in the distance.

"Where's he going?" The question slipped out through Dean's lips before he could stop it, and if the disbelieving look Sam shot him was any indication, it was clear he was now getting suspicious.

"Where he always goes, Dean."

The hunter steeled himself before asking, "And that's where, exactly?"

Sam frowned heavily at him as he mounted the horse and took up the reins. "He's going hunting. For that thing. Like everyone else in this town has been doing for years. Like you were going to while I was gone."

"Oh." Dean muttered, feeling an uncomfortably heavy weight become lodged in his chest. Cas was in danger. "They uh.. They find anything about.. About it?"

"Not yet. They haven't found its hideout yet, but it's only a matter of time." As he spoke, Sam pulled the horse around to take the opposite track to the one their father had walked. "Be careful, okay Dean?"

The hunter nodded, grim smile in place. "Yeah, you too, Sammy. And good luck."

For the first time since he'd pocketed the phone in the basement, a smile broke out on Sam's face. "It's Sam." He then gave the horse a gentle kick, and they set off along the path, leaving Dean feeling worse than before.

Castiel was being hunted by these people, his father included. And if his father was half the hunter he had been in reality, angel or not it wouldn't be long before Castiel's 'hideout' was discovered. It was clear what Dean had to do; he had to find it first. But just how he was going to find a place that had apparently been elusive to a great number of hunters for years was a mystery to him.

By the time night fell, it was safe to say that Sam was inching towards a full-scale panic.

Growing up with Dean and his father, one a greatly renowned hunter and the other well on his way to being the same, he knew he should feel utterly at home in the woods even in the dark. But Sam had never found the same taste for hunting that the other two had, preferring instead to tinker with bits and pieces in his room or in the basement, something that his father especially had never understood. And it wasn't like John was forcing hunting on his boys unnecessarily; Sam understood full well why it was important to have that kind of skill where they lived.

He and Dean had both grown up hearing gruesome stories about what called the woods just beyond their house home. All night long Sam could hear the howls of wolves from his bedroom window, and the stories about men, women and children who had wandered too far and were never seen again were rife in their little village. But the biggest threat came from the beast. It had been spotted by a handful of people, all of whom would only stutter in terror about a darkened castle and something with wings. It was enough incentive for John Winchester to ensure both his boys knew how to protect themselves.

This meant that despite his protests, Sam had always been taken on the odd hunt, so it wasn't unusual for him to be in the woods at night. But he'd never travelled so deeply in alone or so late before, he was tugging a large and clumsy cart behind him which kept bumping on the roots adorning the path which greatly slowed his progress, and the darkness had made what should have been a simple route complicated and difficult.

So under the circumstances, his growing panic was utterly justified.

He only received a split second's warning in the form of a loud and ferocious-sounding howl before a wolf leapt out of the shadows onto the path right before him. Its deep grey fur was matted and dirtied underneath, its great paws heavy and large on the hardened ground, ending in vicious-looking claws. Its mouth was set in a snarl, baring every one of its pointed yellow teeth, amber eyes alive with malice.

As a second wolf leapt out to join the first at a much closer proximity, the horse beneath Sam reared with a frightened whinny, and in his own terror he was too late to tighten his grip on the reigns. With a yelp, he tumbled out of the saddle and landed with a bump near the edge of the path. Clearly scared out of its wits, the horse then turned and galloped away, leaving Sam utterly alone and living one of his worst nightmares. He was unable to prevent the whimper of fear from escaping him, and in doing so alerted the two hungry beasts to his presence.

With a second snarl, the closest wolf leapt at him, mouth opening to show off those horrible teeth. Sam scrambled backwards, desperately groping for something, anything that could help him. His fingers curled around a branch lying on the leaf-strewn ground just as he could feel the animal's breath on his face, and he smashed it around the head as hard as he could. As it stumbled back, dazed, Sam staggered to his feet and plunged into the trees behind him, keeping a tight hold on his new weapon. All around him, he could hear what sounded like a whole pack of approaching wolves, all ravenous and hunting him.

Panting and already sporting a stitch in his side, for the first time Sam cursed his decision against hunting. If only he'd listened a little better to his father or to Dean whenever they'd taken him along before, he might have a clearer idea of how to survive a situation like this. He'd have taken a better weapon with him and thus be more protected, he'd be fitter and more used to running along the uneven forest floor, and he'd know how to defend himself from a wolf attack. Instead, he couldn't see a way out of this that ended in anything but his own bloody death.

As this thought entered his mind, the branches to his right burst apart as yet another wolf leapt into view, aiming its bite at his legs. Sam swerved his body at the last moment, bringing the branch down, but this time the animal dodged rather easily out of harm's way. The branch collided with the ground hard, and the resulting impact sent a horrible jarring sensation sweeping up Sam's arm. With a cry of pain he was forced to drop his only weapon. Clutching at his elbow as it continued to throb, Sam backed away, terrified eyes fixed on the malevolent bronze gaze of the now approaching wolf.

Sam had just reached level with the trees when the ground suddenly vanished from underneath his boots. With a scream of fear and shock he fell backwards and hit a muddy verge with an impact so sharp, it forced all the air from his lungs in one go. The world began to spiral and blur uncontrollably as he tumbled backwards; any attempt to stop his progress by throwing out his arms only led to pain as the limbs banged into the hard winter ground, so he tucked his body up and just let himself roll. He finally came to a stop when he hit a stone path hard, his leg beneath him. He knew the extent of the damage as soon as he heard the crack; the intense pain that followed immediately after only confirmed it. He was running for his life, and he'd managed to break his leg.

Vision hazing from his dizziness and the agony in his leg, Sam forced himself to stand on his good foot. That alone nearly made him keel back over again; his leg screamed in protest, and he staggered, almost falling. But then he spotted something looming out of the darkness just ahead. He didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but he was sure he could just about make out a set of wrought-iron gates a short distance along the path.

His common sense was screaming at him that it was far from a good idea to break into a property in the middle of the woods, but he'd sooner take whoever lived on the other side of those gates than the wolves behind him. The wolves meant certain, undeniable death. Whoever lived in this place, if indeed anyone did, could save his life. At least until his father or Dean found him.

Dragging his broken leg along the stone almost made him pass out, but the quickly approaching howls just behind him was plenty of incentive to keep going. The gates were thankfully unlocked and real; Sam only just managed to force himself through and slam them shut again before the wolves had swarmed onto the path on the other side. They prowled up and down for a while, glinting eyes fixed angrily on their prey, before one by one they vanished back into the trees.

And with the knowledge that for now he was safe, the adrenalin began to seep from his body, and Sam allowed himself to crumple as he lost consciousness. Just before the blissful peace of oblivion, though, he could have sworn he heard voices, although there had been nobody around a few minutes beforehand.

"Looks like a human. What do we do with it?"

"He's hurt! What should we do?"

"Let's get him inside. You know the boss; he'll want to help."

All too soon Sam felt consciousness leaking back into his body. He stirred, feeling the comfortable give of something soft beneath his body rather than the hard stone of when he had collapsed. He jolted awake in an instant, instincts flaring back into life, and let out a whine of pain almost immediately afterwards. Agony had shot through his body at his sudden movement from his leg, which was currently propped up on a large, plush red cushion placed on the floor. Clutching at his trouser leg, Sam surveyed his surroundings and his jaw dropped.

He was in a room so large that he was certain his entire house could have fitted comfortably inside. The ceiling was hidden in shadow; the tall ornate windows were covered in heavy-looking thick curtains. The carpet was a deep maroon, with intricate golden swirls bordering the edges. Before him was an enormous fireplace, in which a roaring fire was blazing happily. He was sat on a tall, grand red chair, the arms of which were covered in soft cushion. The areas both behind and beneath him were the most comfortable he had ever felt; if it wasn't for the fact his senses were now on hyper-alert, he was certain he would have drifted off again easily.

Because he'd only ever heard of one thing living so richly so deep in the woods, he knew that he absolutely had to get out of its way, pronto. He wasn't certain how long he'd been out for, but maybe it was daylight by now; with the heavy curtains in place it was impossible to tell. That meant the wolves would skulk a little further back, and eventually he'd find another human being. Besides, if the horse had managed to make it back home, his father and Dean would already be searching for him. All he had to do was get back so that he was close enough to be found.

Mind made up, Sam eased his leg off the cushion slowly and moved to stand. It was then that he discovered a snag with his plan. The moment he moved the limb an inch, horrendous pain shot across his entire body, making him cry out and utterly freeze all movement. Sam sagged against the back of the chair, fear now flooding him. He was trapped here until he got medical attention, or was found by someone else.

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, someone was standing just in front of his chair. Someone with wings. For a moment they just stared at one another, then the thing raised its arm towards Sam, and the movement shook him from his petrified state. With a shout of terror, he tried to move backwards, keeping his leg supported. But, due to the sweatiness of his palms, his trouser leg slipped through his grasp and his heel collided with the carpeted floor. The resulting pain was enough to make him black out again, but he could have sworn he heard the thing call his name in alarm just before he did.

When he came to for the second time, Sam found himself in an utterly different location to the first. The tiny room around him was doused in shadow; the only light came from a flickering candle on a window sill just above where he lay, propped up against the hard stone wall. The floor beneath him was also stone and freezing cold, but he noticed with a pang of utter bafflement that his bad leg was still supported by the same cushion as before, and that a blanket was draped over his lap. Running the length of the room were iron bars, just like a prison cell.

Heart pounding, Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. He was now well and truly a prisoner of the beast, and God only knew what it was going to do to him. He was already weakened and injured; what was the damn thing waiting for? Did it know about his brother and father, and was using him as bait to draw them in, knowing he would be utterly powerless to stop it? He couldn't let that happen. But there was no way he'd be able to make it through the forest and come out the other side alive in his condition, and that was after he managed to escape this thing's clutches.

Sam shifted slightly, and the movement dislodged something in his trouser pocket. It landed with a clatter, drawing his attention immediately. It was the strange device Dean had given him just yesterday during their talk in the basement. Curiosity overtaking blinding fear for a moment, Sam scooped it up and examined it carefully. It was small and rectangular, with a glass screen and smaller rectangles with numbers imprinted upon their surfaces.

It was as Sam began to raise it to his face for closer inspection that it began to screech shrilly and vibrate in his hand, causing him to jump out of his skin and drop it. It landed with a second clang on the stone, where it lay shrieking and buzzing incessantly. Terrified of what would happen to him if the beast overheard such a racket, Sam swooped it back into his hands and began jabbing at each numbered rectangle in turn, desperate for the device to cease its piercing noise.

He had just pressed experimentally on a green button when the racket suddenly stopped. Sam sat in the abrupt silence, ears straining for the slightest noise that signalled the beast approaching. And in those moments of silence, he heard his brother's voice. Instinctively, Sam flew around to stare at the staircase through the bars at the other end of the adjoining room, and in doing so put too much strain on his leg. He groaned in response to the pain, and that was when he heard Dean again.

"Sammy?! What the hell's wrong?!"

"Dean?" Sam whispered, a hint of frustration in his tone. It sounded as if his brother was shouting, but he sounded so far away. He wouldn't have sounded that distant if he were standing on the staircase, surely. "Is this a trick, beast?"

"..Beast? Sam, what the fuck is going on?"

"Dean, where are you?"

"What? Oh, for the love of.. The phone, you moron! In your hands!"

Sam's head whipped back to stare at the device currently nestled in his palms, and his eyes widened as he murmured, "Dean..?"

"Where are you?" Dean's voice repeated.

"I.. In the beast's hideout. My leg; it's broken." After Sam quickly relayed everything he could remember on how he'd ended up in his current predicament, he clutched the device even harder and whimpered, "Please hurry."

"Calm down, Sam." Dean's voice had gone rather hard. "I'm leaving now."

"Wait, what? No, Dean!" Sam yelped. "It's far too dangerous; the beast! It'll get you too! You need to find Dad and get him to bring a whole group of hunters with you, then -"

"Sam, don't worry. I can handle this, trust me. See you soon." This statement was quickly followed by a click, and then silence.

"Dean?" Nothing happened. "Dean, where'd you go?" Still nothing. "Dean?! DEAN!"

A couple of hours later, Dean was leading a majestic black horse through the iron gates, closing them with a gentle clank.

He had instinctively known something was wrong the moment Sam had set off earlier that evening. So he'd wandered into the village, phone in his hand, waiting for some kind of news, learning all he possibly could about the life he had supposedly led in this dimension. When the horse and empty carriage came hurtling back towards the house without their rider shortly after he'd returned, Dean had called Sam. Then he'd put the terrified animal back into the stable behind the house, found a second horse, and began following Sam's previous instructions.

For what felt like the hundredth time since he'd woken up in this bizarre world, Dean froze to the spot just beyond the gates, jaw slacking at what met his eyes in the growing light of the early morning.

A mountain range stood tall and intimidating to his right, dousing the entire place in heavy shadow. He and the horse were stood on a stone bridge, held high above a sheer drop into a shadow-drenched valley. Before him was a castle, huge, dark and looming, with several turrets and towers curving into the lightening sky. Cruel-looking stone gargoyles with fierce expressions leered at the edges of each rooftop. Every window was dark, except for one at the top of one of the turrets, where a gentle orange glow was flickering.

Careful not to pay too much attention to what was on either side of the bridge, Dean led the horse forward, hunter senses now flaring. Castiel might well be inside this castle, but he had no idea what else lurked inside. Every person he had spoken to about it seemed genuinely terrified of the place; that kind of fear had to have some sort of reasoning behind it, and he couldn't believe Castiel was responsible. Dean might have felt a little more reassured if he'd had some proper weaponry on him, but he'd dropped his gun before he'd been angel-whammied, and could only find a silver knife at the house which was stuffed into his jeans pocket.

To his immense surprise, the oak double doors opened at the slightest push with a loud creak, revealing an enormous hall that ended in a flight of marble stairs. Dean closed the door behind them, told the horse to stay put, and hurried across the pitch black room, eyes peeled for the slightest movement and hand hovering over the concealed weapon. He quickly lost track of just how many stairs he'd climbed, or how many hallways he'd walked down before having to double back to find the next staircase up, or how many times he'd wandered into a dead end.

Finally, he'd stumbled into a winding staircase made entirely of stone, and saw the faintest glimmer of light from the top. Knife now in hand just in case, Dean hurried up the steep steps and burst into a small circular room. Directly opposite him in a tiny room cut off from him by thick metal bars, leant against the wall, was Sam. Despite this Sam not truly being his brother, Dean still felt a rush of relief and anger that he was locked up in such a place.

"Sam, are you alright?" Dean asked as he approached the cell.

All of a sudden, Sam's previously relieved eyes grew wide with terror and he pointed at a spot over Dean's shoulder. "Run!" He squeaked.

Before Dean could turn, he heard another voice; one he recognised and realised with a thump of his heart that he'd missed much more than he cared to admit. Because it was an acknowledgement from someone that he knew was from his own timeline. "Hello, Dean."

Dean spun on his heel to greet Castiel in return and replacing the knife in one fluid motion, but the words got caught in his throat the moment he laid eyes on the angel. He was dressed as he always was in his holy tax accountant getup, right down to the tan trenchcoat flapping by his legs. His hair still stuck in the same gravity-defying peaks, his chin was still dusted with stubble and his eyes were still the same striking, dazzling blue that left Dean feeling as though he were being x-rayed.

But the wings sticking out from his back were a shocking new addition.

Dean knew the angel always had them; he was an angel for fuck's sake. But they had always been hidden somewhere in a different dimension incomprehensible to the human eye. He'd only ever seen shadows of them before and that alone had been enough to leave him feeling stunned. Seeing them in the flesh was utterly awe-inspiring, and Dean felt his jaw slacken.

The wings were both strikingly beautiful and also slightly intimidating. When talking to Castiel, it was easy to forget just what he was, if you could ignore the weird static buzzing air around him, which Dean always seemed to do. But seeing those very real wings flexing and shivering meant it was now impossible to forget that fact. The feathers were sleek and shiny, each one perfectly in line with the next. They were a wonderful glossy black; the exact same shade as the Impala. They curved in a graceful arch behind Castiel's back, framing the angel's skinny body.

"Wow," Dean managed to croak weakly.

Castiel's eyes strayed to his wings and he smiled, although it was mostly in his eyes. "It seems in this world you are able to see my wings." As he spoke he curled one of the feathery appendages around to his front, as if examining them himself.

"No shit, Cas." Dean muttered, unable to tear his eyes away. It wasn't until he heard Sam's squawk of shock from behind him that he remembered just why he was at the creepy old castle in the first place. Feeling a blush of humiliation heating his face and neck at being so easily distracted just by seeing Castiel's wings, he ground out, "What's going on, Cas? Why's Sammy locked up in here?"

Castiel's tiny smile slipped from his face to be replaced with a rather agitated expression. "I can explain -"

But Sam's howl of disbelief cut across whatever it was the angel had been about to say. "Dean, what on earth are you doing?! Don't stand there talking to it! Run!"

Dean couldn't help but feel a prickle of anger at Sam referring to Castiel as an 'it', but before he could voice it the angel spoke over him.

"Sam, please, I -" He began, reaching towards the cell. However, to Dean's utter bafflement, Sam shrunk away from the touch, clutching his broken leg and glaring despite the green tinge that had begun to blossom in his skin.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

"Sam, shut up!" Dean yelled and his brother was so shocked he immediately fell silent. Dean ignored the confused and hurt glint of Sam's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he turned back to Castiel. "What's going on?"

"I intended to heal Sam's leg but he, like many others, would not allow me near him. He intended to escape, even with his injuries, so I had no choice but to ensure that did not happen. I knew you could come, Dean."

"You knew I was here. Why didn't you come when I called you?"

A flash of guilt strayed into Castiel's gaze. "I was.. Advised against that. You have seen how these humans react to my presence. Allow me to demonstrate." And he swept past Dean, arm extending towards Sam. But the moment the angel got closer, Sam whimpered and backed away even further. Castiel instantly froze, and then turned back to Dean, puppy eyes notched up to the highest setting.

"Sam, stop being a moron!" Dean snapped, flatly ignoring the way those eyes made his stomach churn. "Cas, just go and heal him for fuck's sake."

"What?" Sam squeaked. "No, Dean! What are you doing?! Don't let it touch me, Dean!"

At Dean's nod of approval, Castiel swept his hand to the side and the cell doors opened with a metallic screech. Sam tried to scramble away even more, but the space was too limited and the pain in his leg too great for him to go barely more than a few inches. Ignoring his screams of protest, Castiel bent down and placed his fingers against the leg and, in a matter of moments, the broken bone was healed. The angel then quickly retracted his arm and backed away fully, all the way past Dean and coming to a stop by the staircase while Sam lay frozen, speechless.

Satisfied, Dean turned to Castiel. "What's going on here, Cas? And what did you mean you were 'advised' not to answer me?"

"I am unsure as to why we are here, and what purpose it will serve. And Gabriel -"

Dean couldn't help it – he groaned loudly. "You gotta be kidding me, Cas. Please tell me he's not here. That's the last thing I need."

A glint of humour appeared in Castiel's eyes. "My brother is not.. As you remember him. Gabriel, come here."

Before Dean could ask what that meant, there was a faint pop from just above Castiel's shoulder. Dean's jaw dropped. The source of the noise was from Gabriel who had just appeared out of thin air, bronze-coloured wings flapping effortlessly behind him. He had the same stupid messy haircut, light brown and curly, same smug honey-coloured gaze, same cocky grin and even his clothes were the same colours that Dean was accustomed to seeing him dress in. In fact, everything about him was the same as the Gabriel he knew.. Except he was the size of Dean's foot.

"He actually is pocket-size!" Dean was unable to hide the snort of laughter despite the situation.

Gabriel scowled, eyes flashing with anger before he turned to Castiel. "What did you want me to do, boss?"

"'Boss'?" Dean repeated, docking an eyebrow.

"Yes. It appears that whosever dropped me into this world deigned to give me what I desired in the last; control over the angelic war. However, with that power came fear so intense, it has left me severely lacking in company." And he gestured towards Sam, who, Dean was pleased to see, shuffled his feet guiltily and had to look away. "It has, however, given me control over my brothers and sisters. Gabriel, I wish for you to escort Sam home."

Sam jolted at that, and turned to Dean. "What about you?"

"I gotta stay here, Sam." Dean replied after catching Castiel's eye. "Think of something to tell Dad, alright?"

Instantly, fear began to swim into Sam's expression again. "No, Dean! You can't stay! It'll -"

"I told you, stop being an idiot. This is Cas. We can trust him; he's no monster. Go home."

When Sam shut his mouth and docked his head in defeat, Castiel spoke up. "Gabriel."

Pixie-Gabriel gave a mock salute. "Oui, mon capitaine!" He said, then fluttered down to Sam's arm and grabbed his sleeve. "Come on, Samsquatch!" And in the blink of an eye and a faint popping sound, they were gone.

Author's Note: I am so, so sorry that it's taken this long to get this next chapter up, but I have three massive deadlines all for around the same time - seriously, within three or four days of each other - plus an exam AND prep for next year. I'll try my hardest to get the next chapter up quicker than this one, and once again I'm sorry :(

Massive thanks to everyone who's faved, followed or commented so far :) You guys are awesome :D