Not in the dungeon with Donuts

"Cas," I can't help pacing, "do we kill him?"

Cas looks up from his perch on my bed, taking a small break from studying his feet.

"Dean, you're not telling me something."

"I already told you Cas, I let Zeke posses Sam, and then Zeke takes off, with all this talk about reversing the spell; and he's coming back for Sam."

Cas looks at me, waiting.

I can't help it, I glance it him. "It's bad, Cas." He looks at me some more. "Trust me, ok?" Why the hell should he trust me, I throw him out of the bat-cave, and then I fetch him back, and now I tell him I let an Angel I had just met posses Sam—although I didn't have much choice on that one.

Cas nods. "Why is Ezekiel coming for Sam?"

He's right, I'm not telling him, and I've no intention of telling him.

"Sam's pregnant." It just comes out.

A slightly concerned looks crosses Cas' face, "You got Sam pregnant?" He is still sitting quietly on my bed.

I cover my face with my hands. "He's, we didn't, that's not, I'm, brother, he's a, its' not…"

"Oh." Cas isn't nearly as worried as he should be. "Ezekiel."

I have my back to Cas, I can feel Cas watching; I had thought that was an Angel thing. I sit down close to Cas - I take my comfort where I can - and swallow another swig. Lisa, she wouldn't have known what to do, but she would have pulled me into her arms and I could, you know, let her hold me; stupid time to miss that, her. Cas, even though he's not nearly freaked out enough, will help. He knows some about Zeke - Ezekiel - and Nephilim, he can help.

"Dean?" Cas' voice sounds far away. "Dean." That doesn't sound like a question. He takes the flask from me, takes a swig, sets it down, and wraps the fingers of his right hand though my left, and goes back to staring at the wall. "Dean, we'll figure it out."

I shake my head, there I nothing to fix this, fucking nothing.

Back in the dungeon with donuts

"Crowley?" He is dozing; I slam a hand on the table in front of him. "Crowley!" He jumps; I might just do that again, and again, it makes me happy. Crowley on the other hand doesn't look half happy. "I brought you one of Sammy's donuts." Crowley seems even more pissed off; probably 'cause I don't actually hand the donut to him. Handing the donut right over, that's Sammy's thing.

Cas follows me into the basement. "Donut? Crowley?" It doesn't sound all together friendly when Cas says it. I try to forget they were once friends. Cas doesn't have the best taste in friends. Crowley completely fails to acknowledge Cas, can't say I blame him—Cas hasn't always come through on his promises. Good thing I have experience forgiving Sammy, because I have to be good at that to stay friends with…

"To what do I owe the honor?" Crowley's self-importance brings me back.

I set the donut down in front of him.

"We would appreciate your help," Cas leans in, "and we need Sam not to know, ever." Cas, standing tall and looking down at one can be quite threatening, and a few other things—definitely threatening. "What you get in exchange is your freedom."

"My what?" Crowley has lost his cool.

"And a donut," I push one towards him.

"And if you tell Sam," Cas adds, "Dean will kill you."

Crowley's eyes flick between Cas and me. His look is more anxious than hopeful. There was the whole purgatory/leviathan thing, and the kidnapping/cure-the-demon thing, I can see he might worry. "Or we can leave." I add, edging toward the donut, "the whole thing didn't happen." I reach for the donut.

Crowley reaches for the donut. "Talk?"

"Good boy, Crowley." I can't help my smirk—just happened.

"You must stop Sam's research on the Nephilim." Cas can be to the point.

Crowley calmly eats his donut.

"You Crowley," I take a turn getting up-close and personal in Crowley's face, "need to find everything you can about Nephilim, their grace, their conception," Crowley has the audacity to look amused, "their gestation" now Crowley looks annoyingly curious, "how to invoke them, how to bind them, how to destroy, not just kill, destroy them, how to hide them. When you're done, and when I decide it's good, you are free to go."

Crowley considers with that little tilt to his head that makes me want to hit him, just because. "I'll do it, on one condition,"—Crowley, King of the Cross Roads, always has conditions—"tell me why." Crowley probably has the right to ask, not that Cas and I need to answer.

"Sam needs to be saved." Way to go Cas, seriously.

"Again?" Crowley considers me briefly, "The two of you might have been better off if you had just accepted Moose-the-boyking."

"All you have to do, Crowley, is take control of the research, keep it anything about the Nephilim from Sam and we'll tell you when to get along."

"Sam," Crowley grins. I don't know, and I'm plenty sure Cas doesn't know, how long Sammy's been standing there. Damn, now I already owe Crowley one.

Bedroom, no donuts

"Zeke needs to think we are on board with his plan?" I lay down on my bed, and stare at the ceiling, "So we do nothing?"

Cas looks worried. "I heard things." Cas 'heard things' isn't exactly what I want to hear. "Some know that Ezekiel has a plan to re-enter Heaven - he has supporters. Ezekiel is a soldier; in order to guarantee his success he will raise an army. He is not a leader Dean, he will not maintain control."

I think we have nine-months to pull this thing off, but, as Cas pointed out, I don't really know when, to use Cas' exact words, 'Ezekiel impregnated Sam.'

"We need to get rid of the baby."

"Abort the Nephilim?" Cas sounds horrified. Special, coming from the person who murdered one for a spell not so long ago, but he was an Angel then.

I personally don't give a shit about an unborn Nephilim; I give a shit about having Sam live through this fuckup. Once Sam has a baby, that baby, his baby in his arms all he will do is protect the thing—and every Angel out there will want it dead, and we know that doesn't usually go so well. Maybe Sam was right, maybe he should have stayed in Heaven.

"Dean?" Cas has made a habit of sitting on my bed and fuck personal space; actually - fuck personal space - I'll take Cas sitting next to me. He tries again, "Dean." He touches my face; that's a little more than I was bargaining on, "I'm sorry." I'm about to tell him he's got damn nothing to be sorry for, because he doesn't, but then he just goes on. "If it wasn't for what I have done Heaven the Angels would be in Heaven." He strokes my jaw with his thumb, "I'm just sorry Dean. I will do what I can to protect Sam." He takes his hand away. It was so easy to just fall into Lisa's arms, and right now that's all I want, to fall into Cas' arms and have him make this yet-another-fuck up, this piece of abiding Winchester luck, disappear.