Dean stalked around the corner to the room where Sam and Kevin sat, freezing up at the sight. Sam looked up from his laptop, watching his brother walking stiffly towards him. Sam smirked, his dimples pressing into his cheeks, his lips exposing a playful smile. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and slumped in the chair across from him. He glared at Kevin, contemplating kicking him out of the room but the thought was shot down with a burst of laughter from the both of them. Dean turned red, finally snapping at the two. "Shut it!" Sam stopped laughing, but only just. Dean threw his hands up and rubbed his forehead, stopping to stare at them again. "I don't even know what to say to you. It just… It just sort of happened, okay?" He exhaled grievingly at Sam's unchanged expression. "Would you at least say something? You're killing me here." Sam broke out in more laughter at Dean visibly suffering in silence. "Dude, chill out. It's cool. Everything's cool." Dean was speechless at how relaxed Sam was after walking in on him and Cas. He was certain he'd be wigging out, but this–this was nothing like he expected. "You're not… you're not freaked?" Sam shrugged and chuckled. "Dean, man, that's all we do and if getting freaky with an angel is your kind of thing, then I'm not gonna stop you." Dean blew out a heavy breath, his eyebrows raising in relief. Sam smirked, clearly enjoying the entertainment he was getting from his humiliated brother.
"Anyway, I'm just glad the cat's out of the bag. Ya'll were starting to get on my nerves." Dean rolled his eyes and looked away, his heart jumping when he heard a gravelly voice from behind. "I don't understand your meaning." Sam snorted and tilted his head back. Kevin chimed in, enticing Dean's desire to strangle him. "Seriously? You guys wouldn't know love if it hit you square in the face." Cas stepping closer frowned, glancing at Dean who sat defeated in his chair. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it light squeeze. "So what you're saying is everyone saw it but us?" They all shrugged in response, including Dean.
The men sat around the table in silence, all doing their part of researching a side job the brothers picked up in a nearby town where middle-aged women with the same birth year were disappearing, all around the same location. Cas had his nose buried in a book when he heard the all too familiar sound of ruffled feathers. His head shot up before the rest to see Barachiel doubled over, blood oozing from his gut. He fumbled to get out of his chair and scurried over to help him sit down. Sam rushed to get his supply of bandages that was starting to collect dust. Surprisingly. "What happened?" Cas mouthed with concern, unable to find his voice. It wasn't even the bloodied angel hunched before him that made him fret, it was the fact that he didn't know if Seraphiel was still at large and if that was the case, he had all the reason in the universe to be more than concerned. He cleared his throat, questioning more deliberately. "Seraphiel?" Barachiel wagged his head, mustering as much effort as he could to look Cas in the eyes. "Dead," He hissed.
Sam ordered Dean and Cas to pin Barachiel against the chair while he cleaned out the lacerations that sliced straight to his innards. His face wrinkled up with disgust, not ever recalling seeing intestines at any point in his time as a hunter. He packed the wounds and sewed them back together again, wrapping a bandage around his stomach to prevent anything else from falling out. At least the thought comforted him anyway. Dean grumbled something that sounded like the bunker was becoming an angel infirmary, earning him a whack on the head from Cas. "That should do it for now." Sam stepped back, satisfied with his patch work. Barachiel breathlessly expressed his gratitude before passing out in the chair.
When he came to, Barachiel awoke to the unpleasant surprise of four uptight faces staring at him intently. He blinked hard, making sure he wasn't seeing double. The pressure from their stares made him so uncomfortable he couldn't bare the silence anymore. "What?" He snapped. Dean's look immediately resorted to anger, stepping in closer to the battered archangel. "You don't get to ask the questions around here, bub. Especially since you're the one who showed up here with half your guts spilling out, so by all means, spill the rest." Barachiel tried to stand up but Dean shoved him back down in his seat and crossed his arms. He wanted answers, even if he had to force them out which he was hoping wasn't going to be necessary. Castiel flicked his eyes over to him, uncertain of what Dean had brewing in his head. "After you got the hell out of dodge and ran away like scared little dogs–" He appointed a glower at Cas, who retorted with a perturbed scowl. "–I got paid a lovely surprise visit from Metatron after I blew Seraphiel away with half the town and let's just say he wasn't pleased. That little weasel did this to me so I ran. Bloody bastard is no pencil pusher if you ask me." He gestured to his shredded abdomen, wincing at the sudden movement. Kevin wedged his way between Sam and Cas so he could get a better look at the ailing archangel. He sniffed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "How do we know he's telling the truth?"
Barachiel sneered at the young prophet and turned back to Dean. "Can I...?" He wanted to stand up, feeling cramped by so many eyes peering at him. It had been a while since he had been in the company of so many and he trying his best to handle it. Part of him wanted to bolt and fly back to his isolated cottage in the forest, but obviously that wasn't an option in his current predicament. Dean stepped back to allow him some space, sensing that he was becoming overwhelmed with anxiety. "I don't care whether you believe me or not, but so far I haven't led you wrong so give me some slack here. I wouldn't have come here if it jeopardized you lot and I think you already know this." He gave a hardened look at both the brothers and Cas, who nodded reluctantly in agreement. "Makes you wonder why the Scribe hasn't been around lately, doesn't it? Look, Castiel. If we're going to stop Metatron once and for all, now is the time. He's scared and that makes him vulnerable to mistakes. I think we can catch him in one." Cas nodded, contemplating the bloodied archangel. "What options does that leave us with? If we can't find him then how the hell do you expect to kill him?" Barachiel smiled cunningly, turning back to face the men. "That's why I'm here."
Dean pulled Cas aside into the kitchen, leaving Sam and Kevin to chat with the melodramatic archangel. "Cas, what are we doing? I don't have a good feeling about this. Like at all. I mean come on man, you don't even know where Metatron is for starters and what if he pulls that shit on you? You'd be finished." Cas bit his lip, thinking as fast as his mind would allow. He shook his head looking at the floor, eyes darting around in concentration. He hadn't a clue either, but he wasn't going to let everyone down. Grasping at straws, he spoke low and slow. "I might have an idea, but you aren't going to like it." He glanced back up at Dean, long enough to see the worried dimples pressed into his cheeks as he waited for Cas to explain. "Didn't Barachiel say that the only way Metatron could shut down Heaven was with the help of Seraphiel? Well what if he went dark, not for the obvious reasons here, but because he needs someone to finish the trials?" He spun around to Dean, who was still trying to figure out where Cas was going. "What if I aide him with the spell and you guys can come up with some way of trapping him and–" Dean stepped uncomfortably close to Cas, growling under his breath. "No. No way am I letting you do that." Cas frowned, expecting his reaction. "Dean, what other choice is there? Let's face it, I would be nothing without Heaven and if I have to put my life on the line in order to save it, then that's a price I'm willing to pay."