Hi,

Thanks for the overwhelming number of positive and encouraging reviews. To my couple of anonymous reviewers, thanks guys! And thanks for pointing out that typo anon so I can fix it.

THANKS to my new Beta OTS for fixing my little typos and grammatical errors. Anything left is my fault when I went over it again and rewrote a couple parts.

So without much further ado:

Chapter two: Sound of Trust

Dean was sure that this was the same dream. It felt so similar. The others in the car were a loose and disconnected presence on the edge of his senses. Despite the underlying tension that permeated the air around him, Dean waited patiently in his dream for what he thought would come. An air of pressure hummed where the rumble of the Impala's motor should have been, and the only sense of movement came as the curves of the road shifted Dean's body in the car. It was Sam's turn at the wheel, Ruby in shotgun, and Dean was slumped in passenger seat behind her. Ruby and Sam sat perfectly still, zoned out, a part of a different dimension. Therefore Dean did not expect them to acknowledge Castiel when he appeared on the seat beside Dean.

The angel sat stiffly in the seat, his khaki coat absent from his shoulders. His chin rested on his chest, mouth set in a grim line, the diminished brilliance of his eyes focused on the seat in front of him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, but in the dim light, Dean could not see why. Castiel's shirt was uncharacteristically dirty, but again, Dean could not see with what. His tie though was in perfect form, cinched up to his neck with precision that would make any politician envious.

"So is cosmic dry cleaning service down again or something?" Dean felt compelled to speak. Castiel did not look up. "Why are you here? Do you have more information about the Seal?" Dean wondered why he asked. This was just a dream.

It was late; few other cars were on the highway. The scenery was the inky blackness – the short trees and shrubs illuminated by the Impala's headlights were the only thing Dean could clearly see. The interior of the car felt stifling and empty. Dean knew it was a dream, but vaguely he remembered it was important to pay attention and remember what the angel said.

"A Seal? The demons are wandering through the desert." Castiel voice sounded gravelly, unused. He was still next to immobile. Dean hardly even saw his lips form the words.

The angel sagged abruptly, touching his head to the seat in front of him, his dark unruly pressed up against the leather. One pale hand rose up to touch the black silk tie at his throat. Dean watched mesmerized as the angel swallowed deeply, and winced.

"Where, which desert?" Dean perked up. He waved a hand in front of Castiel's vacant visage. For a few seconds nothing registered on Castiel's expression. Then, his eyes went wide in traumatized fear. Castiel whipped his head back, smashing it into the seat behind him. "Whoa, easy there Cas."

"My name is Castiel." The angel said somewhat stiffly. Dean raised an eyebrow at the comment. Dean noticed the stiffness that permeated off the angel's body. His knuckles were white, the angel's angular jaw clenched.

Dean frowned. "Where are you?"

"I'm following them, watching them. They might be after a seal, but I don't know which one. Uriel was to discover which seal, and inform me when I reported the demon's destination." Castiel rolled his head slowly over to face Dean. A head light from an oncoming car shone through the shadows, briefly illuminating Castiel's face. His lips were cracked, his cheeks sunburned, and blood was caked on his temple. His fluttering eyes were dull and glassy, not the fluorescent and intense orbs that could stop the coldest hunter in his tracks. Then the light went past them. And Castiel looked as he had when he appeared in the seat beside Dean.

The image had appeared and disappeared so rapidly, Dean thought his mind was playing tricks. It was so unexpected, so different, so startling. Dean tried to rationalize what he saw, but he could not. When Dean saw Castiel's face in the light, the angel looked as though he had been dragged through hell. And Dean knew what that meant.

Dean stared shaken. "Their destination was where?" Castiel did not speak. "Come on, Castiel! Where were the demon's going? Nevada, the bunny ranch, Disneyland?"

Then the car wavered in and out of reality. The feeling of the tires against the road disappeared; the rumbling of the Impala's engine faded; the inky blackness of the interior of the car disappeared.

Harsh light filled the warehouse. Dean sat on a brown half-rotted couch in a back corner of the large room. He was frozen in place and tight hold on him not unlike the demonic psychic wrist lock, but Dean was able to see his new surroundings. Old cob webs hung from the high ceiling's numerous crossbeams and braces. The walls were all grey boards and chipped paint. Sandy dirt and animal waste made up the visible floor, though underneath could have been cement. A generator hummed loudly outside, blocking out the sound of the wind, or any other wildlife. The smell was a mix of rotting wood, fabric, feces, and must. Dean could almost taste the mold and decay that would have saturated the air. He could hear flies buzzing.

Company crates of different sizes stood in piles around the warehouse, except for one place. Dust filtered through the rays of light emitted by high spotlights set up to illuminate the center of the old building.

On the edge of the clear circle kneeled Castiel, both hands pulling weakly at an object that encircled his neck. The collar was the colour of a grave-dogs bark, color of a scream in the dark, color of a soul's last breath. It was the colour of death. Any sound around the angel bent into it, his voice calling for help funneled into it. Both hands let go, and Castiel fell against a near crate.

He looked pale, where his face was not burned or bloodied. The angel's expression was that of fear, but dampened by burning resolve. Dean felt the vice like grip that held him in his seat released. Dean shot up to his feet and –

Found himself back in the Impala, behind Ruby. He whipped his head to the left, knowing Castiel would be there waiting to tell him something.

Castiel sat close to him, ragged as he was at the beginning of the dream, and mouthed words at Dean. Dean had to lean in closer to hear the angel: "Get some rest. I`ll need it."`

Dean gasped suddenly, his body jerked hard against the seat belt.

"Whoa," Ruby said, "I just had the creepiest feeling run down this spine. Just like an ang..." She trailed off, looking around suspiciously. "Almost like there was... Never mind."

Dean looked at her warily. He had decided to ask her what was setting off her spidey senses, when Sam broke in. "Another dream, Dean?" Dean nodded. "Like last night and the night before that?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Yeh. Except I remember a bit more. Something about a warehouse, and lots of bright lights."

"Was Castiel there too?"

"I`m not sure… I don`t remember him saying anything." Dean relaxed against the comforting leather seats. He sighted deeply and looked to his left on instinct. But there was nothing there.

Dean parked the Impala in an open spot in front of a hotel just across of a large piece of arid land. The state owned it. The land was technically a park, and a wildlife preserve on the map. Dean figured the only reason it was on that map that way was the land was completely barren. No one wanted to own land with the only feature being rock and a cactus.

"Demons wandering through the desert…" Dean mumbled to himself.

"Excuse me?" Ruby raised a long eyebrow at him.

"What… nothing!" Dean exhaled, exasperated.

Exiting his vehicle, he pocketed the keys and stretched. All the years of his life, there was nothing better after a long car ride than a good stretch. A threesome with the Doublemin twins came close, maybe topped it, but right now he was willing to settle for the stretch.

"Hey Dean! Mind getting us some rooms?" Sam tapped him on his shoulder and pointed towards the doors of the hotel lobby.

Dean sighed a contented sigh and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He kicked his feet through the light-coloured topsoil, and made his way through the doors to the front desk. "Two rooms, a double and a single. Close together, adjacent if possible."

The elderly Chinese man at the counter nodded. "Two rooms, one for lady, two for men. Okay." Dean smiled as he accepted the room keys that were actual keys. The man grabbed a large coiled book from underneath the counter. "Pay now. Cash. How many days?"

"Cash?" Dean sputtered and replaced Mr. Robinson, his credit card. The bald spot on the top of the man`s head bobbed. "Oh man."

"How many days, son. You deaf?" The old man glared at Dean`s affronted look.

"Five."

"A week and get a price break." The look the man gave Dean reminded him of the Cheshire Cat of the Disney cartoon of Alice of Wonderland that Sam had seemed so fascinated by. Man that kid was warped.

"Okay, a week." Chances were that they might be here that long if the case continued with the ever so slow rate of turning up leads. So far, it was a complete dead end despite both Godzilla and Mothra stating the opposite. A niggling feeling at the back of Dean's mind said he was missing something, a big-picture clue, but retrieving that information at the moment was impossible.

"Six hundred ninety dollar please." The man held out a weathered wrinkled palm.

Dean choked, and handed him most of the cash in his wallet.

The small man counted it, and then turned to lock it in one of the most secure-looking safes outside of the time locked bank vault.

"Have nice stay."

The local bar was typical for the area. Lots of bikers, lots of cowboys. Lots of biker chicks that had a hard on for leather, lots of cowgirls that had a hard on for denim and big hats. Then there was the common smoky atmosphere, dim lighting, and the persistent scent of spilled alcohol, tobacco, and vomit. Dean loved places like these. So many fond memories: first John letting him have a sip of beer, then the adoring expressions from the waitresses, to learning how to hustle, picking up the still-adoring waitresses, getting in bar fights with his brother at his back over hustling said waitresses... Unfortunately, Dean knew he was there on business, but that did not mean he could not get a number of the buckle bunnies serving Sam and him beer, on the house.

He and Sam sat at a corner booth, Sam on his laptop taking advantage of the WiFi network. To Dean's big surprise, Mr. "I don't handle credit cards", didn't have internet set-up in the rooms. Ruby was off wherever she went when she was not telling them what to do, or making big black googlely eyes at Sam, or- insert humility -saving their lives. Dean grew bored quickly watching Sam's unsuccessful attempts to pinpoint any signs of demonic activity, and stood up.

He could have hustled, but he did not want to attract too much attention… yet, anyway. He could have sat with a number of young woman at the bar, who had glamoured up and done their hair. But for some reason, he thought of Anna.

Dean shook himself and the picture of her in his mind slipped away. Disturbed, he settled to listening to the pieces of conversations that drifted to his ears.

"And he got so drunk, he puked on his mom..."

"They kicked me out of the bar down the street just 'cause I'm underage. Do you see how good I look?"

"Man, my truck broke down today. Guy at the shop said six hundred. What a rip!"

"Police said that there was no trace of the girl...." A quiet conversation from the far edge of the bar piqued Dean's interest. "Poor bastard - his wife is dead and his little girl just walked out the front door."

An older woman nodded to the middle age man that had spoken. "I was outside getting my mail, before anyone figured out she disappeared. She called to him, said "bye daddy, got to go play with my angels. I won't be back for a few days, okay? But don't you worry". And just like-"

The middle age man broke in, "Just like that what? If you know something, you should have gone to the sheriff."

"No, no," the women shushed him. "And just like that, I walked inside. Though little Lila gave me the strangest look before I shut the door."

"Like what..." The man's word dragged on as he noticed Dean. His jowls bounced as turned his head. "Hey buddy do you mind? We're trying to have a private conversation here." The middle age man stood up and glared menacingly at Dean. Well, as menacingly as a half-drunk white-collar man, twenty years his prime could.

"I couldn't help take interest in your conversation, sir. See, I'm a US Marshall. Me and my partner" Dean pointed at Sam furiously typing in the corner, "were just passing through town, but it seems like we should maybe stop and show a little interest in the case." Dean lied as smoothly as his newly restored flesh.

The man nodded knowingly. "Ah. Well then, you'll wanna' see Sheriff Brown. He's the lawman in these here parts."

Dean stifled a snicker. Okay, a white-collar with a lifelong dream of staring in a western. "Thank you, mister..."

"Wayne."

Of course....

"I'm Judith O'Hara. Just in case you want to interview me later..." The middle aged woman bent over and scribbled her number on a bar napkin.

"I will keep you mind, mam." Whose mind, I'm not sure. Maybe Sam's. With that Dean strode victoriously back to Sam's table.

"So, have you found anything yet?" Sam glanced up at Dean's question.

Sam smirked. "I think I've done better than you. I don't have cougar bites."

Dean huffed, affronted. "Sam, I was working the job."

"So was I." With that said, Sam swiveled his lap top to face Dean. "Look here. I listed out all the references to odd weather, random crop failures, dead livestock, and I've come up with a pattern."

Dean nodded Sam on. "It appears that there is a line of omens, coming from the north of here, starting in Wisconsin, then they traveled south and stopped for a day. But it ended up around here somewhere. The events are too spaced out for me to tell exactly where, but in one of the towns around here, someone has got to have heard something."

Dean nodded. "Lilith possessed a little girl. Then she disappeared."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Where did this happen? When? Who, Dean?"

"No, she didn't possess me, Sammy. I'm not a convincing Shirley Temple. And not so many questions at once. I got a first name, and a witness testimony. Oh yeh, Marshall Sam, that was the cougar thing."

Uriel was waiting in the shadows of the room when Dean and Sam arrived at precisely 2:13 am. Dean pulled his piece when he noticed the bulky figure, then recognized his face, and almost popped a round into the smug seraph on the principle of the matter.

"Ah, you came back." The angel walked over to the center of the room. "And I was beginning to believe that you cowards had run in fear from me again." The supercilious glare that angel laid on the brothers was enough to want Dean to smack it off. But he could not for fear of, well, dying. So he decided to ask the angel a question instead.

"Where is Castiel?" Dean had not consciously meant say that. He meant to ask for the rest of the ritual for breaking the Seal, but for some reason, the question ran off his tongue like it had been the first thing on his mind. "I'm tired of dealing with his attack dog."

Uriel blanched at the forthright right question, then stiffened with anger at the comparison. "I'm not a slobbering beast," he spat in unholy anger, "Castiel does not hold my leash. In fact, I've not heard from him in a week!"

Dean stiffened. Uriel was righteously pissed, and Castiel was not there to temper his fury. Dean was beginning to realize that he should not have tried to embarrass the angel. Uriel was not Castiel, and therefore, not able to gracefully endure Dean's frustrated criticisms. Dean thought back to the one time where he had seen Castiel truly angry. The intense power of his anger was stirred only by many insensitive comments from Dean's lips about the angel's integrity and faith, and only after Castiel had suffered the loss of many of his fellow angels to battles Dean could not yet begin to understand.

Awareness shone on Dean, but it was Sam who spoke up. "If you haven't heard from Castiel in a week about on a mission, where is he?"

Dean's mind eye flashed back to something Castiel said the first time he came into Dean's dream: Six of my brothers died in the field this week.

Uriel did not reply, and the stubborn set to his mouth indicated he was hiding something.

Dean pressed on, "Is he alright? What was he doing? You can't tell me he's just out chasing tail for kicks. I mean the Holy Account Suit he's got on doesn't really scream 'invite me to live with you after we get wasted.'"

Sam shot Dean a horrified look. Dean shrugged.

"Even Castiel would not cavort with your race. A week and a half ago He sent Castiel on a mission to track the demons that plan to open the seal. He hasn't reported back since a week." Uriel admitted. Or was goaded into admitting it. Dean was not sure.

"And he had no backup. Where were you?" Sam asked disgustedly. Uriel to the brothers never seemed anything like what angels should be. All Uriel's jealousy and murderous rage were out of place.

"He never asked me for any assistance. That is not my specialty."

Dean smiled, "I agree with you there – no innocents to smite."

Uriel sucked in a breath and took a heavy step forward. "I am not required to act. That piece of the mission is not part of my orders. And just why am I justifying myself to a mud monkey?"

"'Cause we're adorable." Dean grinned.

"So if there is no sign of Castiel, why haven't you looked for him?" Sam asked, trying to round the conversation back to the matter at hand: namely discovering the full nature of the mess the brothers were running headlong into, and attempting not to be 'smited' themselves.

"To remain undetected from the demons, Castiel dimmed his grace. Also this left him shielded from his brothers. As he has not revealed himself, I can only assume he is still pursuing his mission."

Dean nodded at Uriel's words. "Or he's dead."

Uriel smiled a smile that had no place on a pure being. "I would know if that unfortunate event occurs."

Dean swallowed. Not a lot of love lost there...

"Enough of this! Whom have you determined is the target of the Seal – who is it? My superiors have informed me that the target has already been used. Only the second part of the ritual remains to break the Seal." Uriel puffed out his chest, trying to look imposing.

Dean and Sam shared a quick glance. "We don't know a whole lot yet, just a list of psychics that were not taken." Dean did not lie. He just omitted the truth. They did not need a renegade angel smiting the town trying to get Lilith, who not likely even here anymore, when they were working. Turn-a-bout is fair play, after all.

"Useless." They heard a flutter of wings. Uriel disappeared.

"Finally. Good God. What a dick!" Dean shouted at the ceiling.

He strode over to the minibar and cracked the seal. Picking the tiny bottle of the least girly drink, he shot it back, swishing the alcohol in his mouth for a time before he swallowed.

Sam's thought started spill out of his mouth. "So Castiel started tracking these demons a week and a half ago. That gives me a time frame, assuming he started in Wisconsin." Sam typed a bit and went back to a US map laid out on the table. He marked evenly spaced notches on it for days, and gave two notches to a particular area on the map shaded in red. "That's about right. About seven days ago the demons paused. Hmmm. If Castiel is still tracking them, he should be around here somewhere." Sam openly gestured around, indicating general area of the town they were staying in. "I wonder why he hasn't checked in." Dean gave him an incredulous look. Sam stared pensively at the wall. "Well I could understand why he would avoid Uriel on a personal level, but throwing a mission, delaying orders. That's not really like him."

"Yeah, he's the first in line to do God's Will, despite the ramifications." This inconsistency got Dean to think. Something important was sitting on the tip of his tongue. "He told me he was hunting demons in the desert."

"Who did? Castiel told you? When? There are only a few areas on the map that are really considered deserts. That gives us a place to start looking for him. Dean, why didn't you say something before?" Sam stood up from the table, shock etched into his face.

"I didn't really remember. It was from one of those dreams, I think. I don't even remember which one... a few images came to mind just now. I think something is really wrong here." Dean threw back another shot and shuddered.

"Gee, you think?" Ruby walked in and slammed the door behind her.

Both brothers jumped.

"Great hunters you're supposed to be. What if I was Lilith?" Ruby shook her head. Dean snarled and angry curse at her. She ignored his pent-up aggression. "Not the time, I know Sam, whatever. Big news, Lilith was in town."

"Uh, we know." Sam interjected her speech.

Ruby shut her eyes. And opened them. "Oh."

"'Oh.' That's all you got to say? Castiel is missing for a week and could be dead by now, another seal is about to get eaten by one Hell of a polar bear, and our favorite demonic bitch is in town."

Ruby nodded along with Dean's venting rant. "'Oh' sums that up."

So, another chapter done. And incase you are hungry for more Castiel, there will be a lot more screen time for him next chapter, I promise.. Also, check out LovingJackson's and Angelustatt's Castiel fics. Definitely the best out there....

Remember review make me happy and encourage faster updates.

And with that in mind, click the link right below, yes the one green. lol.