Quick filler chapter - if you can call 4,000 words quick - just for the sake of establishing timelines and whatnot. Sorry if anyone feels out-of-character at all, I'm not so good with writing the Winchesters, hence why I've stuck to writing parts with them in it from Castiel's point of view. But they're still important to this story so I didn't want to cut them out altogether. Hope you enjoy it. I don't like filler much so I only do it when it really feels necessary. Very dialogue-heavy chapter. Sorry if that's not your thing.

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Chapter 11

Sam hadn't told Amelia about Rufus's cabin. Come to think of it, he had not told her much of anything regarding his life as a hunter. The thought had occurred to him once, that maybe he should just come clean to her, but then he got an unexpected visit from the Devil. It was best she didn't know the extent of the evil that was out there. She was so lively; he didn't want to destroy that in her. He watched his brother's light die out the more they did their job. With every monster they killed and every new species they discovered, Dean's smile faded a little more. His enthusiasm for the job wasn't the same as what it used to be. He used to want it for the sake of being a hunter. When he died, he died with hunting being his only option. The only thing he knew.

He did not frequent the cabin, exactly. When he needed space to clear his head he would take a drive out here. It wasn't too far, by their standards. He kept the refrigerator stocked with a few beers, but for the most part it was storage for the old weapons and tools of his former trade. Having them all in a shed out back was not the most ideal location, should Amelia ever get curious. Rufus' cabin was available. He figured it was best used by him than anyone else.

The Impala purred happily underneath him as he pulled her on to the front lawn of the cabin. He killed the engine and stepped out in one motion, then trod somewhat hesitantly to the door. Approaching the cabin always brought distant memories to the forefront of his mind, clawing at his psyche as if desperate to torture him. He would have thought Bobby's old house a more likely candidate to bring on those thoughts, but even Rufus' cabin did just fine. Always riding the line between being a hunter - and a damn good one at that - and wanting a normal life. For a while there he gave up on it. Now he had it again, and as much as he enjoyed it, he was still drawn to this place on occasion. Perhaps the price for gaining normality had been too high, try as he might to convince himself it was better this way. How could he call any life better than that of a hunter when it meant his brother was dead?

He brushed the old wooden door open with his right hand, sighing as he stepped inside. Something felt different; he moved forward more intently. The door swung shut behind him and he was tackled to the ground, a shocked grunt escaping him. In a blur of plaid and dust, he saw his brother Dean atop him, fighting to hold him down and spray him with water from a bottle; holy water. He knew this ritual well.

"Dean, what-" he hid his face to prevent any from getting in his mouth, and inspected his damp clothes as Dean tossed the bottle to the side. "I'm not a demon!"

Another bottle appeared in Dean's hand, filled with a murky, white liquid. It was dumped none-too gracefully on Sam's face. "Or a Leviathan!" He protested. He would reek of cheap cleaning supplies for the rest of the day, at least, but that wasn't a priority.

His hand was sieged. He still fought through his confusion, but Dean's grip was iron-strong. Wherever he had been, it had not dulled him; quite the opposite, actually. He did not remember Dean's grip being so persistent. A silver blade cut in to his flesh. It carried a dull sting in its wake, but Sam wasn't paying much a mind to it. Once the knife had done its work, his older brother tossed his wounded arm to the side almost violently, causing him to thump back down onto the hard wood. "Or a shifter," he declared.

Dean's face was hard and determined. He looked like a hunter, to be sure, but not in the way Sam usually identified him. Something about him, in the way he was pinning Sam down so fiercely, not letting him get a word in, not saying anything at all, even a sarcastic little remark as he ensured he wasn't a monster, was… different. Colder. Dean was always a little edgy, but this was a man who meant business. Sam was certain that had he failed any one of the tests, Dean would have killed him without even bothering to ask where the real Sam was.

"Good, my turn," Dean huffed and rose to his feet, holding the supplies out to Sam, "c'mon, let's go."

"I don't need to, I, I know it's you," Sam breathed unevenly, clutching at his bleeding arm. Conflicting emotions stirred in his chest: astonishment, euphoria, and just a little bit of fear, as Dean shook his head.

"Dammit, Sammy," he took each bottle and doused himself plentifully with holy water and Borax. Then he held the knife out to his brother, now on his feet. "C'mon," he urged, flicking the knife handle up in offering.

"No, Dean, can I just say hello?" Sam pleaded.

Frustration steeling his face, Dean rolled up his sleeve and sliced in to his own flesh with the silver blade. He barely hesitated, and did not let up on his initial pressure. The scholar in Sam knew that was less than healthy behavior. Cutting themselves to prove they weren't shifters was never their favorite activity, because their knives were all kept at their sharpest and hurt like a bitch. Dean barely even reacted to the sting of the blade anymore. Somewhere deep in his mind, Sam wondered what had happened to them. When the job had completely overpowered their sense of self-preservation.

Sheathing the knife, Dean pulled a bandana out of his pocket and wrapped it around the cut on his arm. His smile seemed forced at first, but gradually looked more genuine. "Alright, well, let's do this."

Sam smiled back. "I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower."

Dean chuckled. "C'mere." They stepped forward into a tight embrace, Dean patting Sam's back like he always did. He could feel Dean's shoulders relaxing just a little bit as he held his brother close, and Sam exhaled in relief.

The contact lasted just a second or two more than most would assume necessary, but what did they know. His brother had been dead or worse for a year, and like hell if he wasn't on cloud nine just seeing him again. Something about him was off, to be sure, but who wouldn't be just a little bit different after coming back from the dead. Both of them had had that experience before. Both of them knew they always came back affected. Even after more than once, it wasn't something you just shrugged off and walked away from. It left marks, wounds. He just hoped Dean's wouldn't be as severe as the ones he brought from Hell. Oh God, had he been to Hell again?

When they pulled away, Sam could no longer contain his excitement. "Dude," he breathed, tugging at his hair, you're freakin' alive! I mean… what the Hell happened?"

Dean's face tightened as he forced an ironic smile. "Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory."

Sam opened his mouth only to have it shut again. He shifted his weight and tried to form words. "You were in Purgatory?" He succeeded in preventing his voice from cracking, but not from concealing the shock on his face. Dean nodded solemnly, and Sam could see the pain that it caused him. Worse than Hell. Why did their endeavors always get worse? "For the whole year?"

Again, Dean forced a hollow smile. "Yeah, time flies when you're runnin' for your life." His whole body had tensed, the light drained from his eyes again. He was holding his head high, but Sam knew his tells. He was still shaken by the not-so-distant memories.

"How'd you get out?" Sam inquired.

Dean shrugged with his eyes. "I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there anymore than I did." His smile seemed a little more genuine this time. Relief. But it didn't much answer Sam's question.

"What does that mean?"

The older's expression softened, and Sam recognized it as his dismissive look. "I'm here, okay?" He wanted to drop the subject, but Sam was a younger brother. Younger brothers don't just let subjects drop.

"What about Cas, was he there?"

He almost regretted the question once it left his mouth. Dean tensed noticeably, his expression dropping just a little more. But then he steeled, and his eyes darkened. There was a hatred there; Sam hadn't seen Dean this vengeful since Bobby's death. Obviously something had happened, but the "this discussion is over" look was there and stronger than before. Sam shifted uncomfortably and broke their eye contact. Calming himself, Dean crossed the room, making for the fridge, and switched topics.

"So you, I can't believe you're actually here," the elder Winchester commented, opening the fridge and wrapping his fingers around two beers, "You know that, uh, half of your numbers are out of service? I felt like I was leaving messages in the wind." He sat down at the decrepit dining table and twisted the cap off, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

Sam waved awkwardly. "Yeah, I, uh… didn't get your messages."

Dean cocked his head. "How come?"

"Probably because I ditched the phones," Sam answered honestly, voice hinting at nerves.

The older was patient with him. "Because?"

Sam inhaled deeply. His arms flopped uselessly at his sides as he approached the table. "I guess, um, I guess something happened to me this year." Weary of his brother's reaction, he shrugged and stated it as simply as he could: "I don't hunt anymore."

Dean stared back at him disbelievingly before laughing a breathy, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah," he chuckled, "and Sasha Grey's gone legit." His hand stirred the glass bottle in his hand idly as he spoke.

Sam scoffed, but dismissed Dean's inquiry. "Nothin', um, she did a Soderbergh movie."

"What?"

Dean cut off his younger brother's repetition. "No. You, Sam. You quit?"

Sam nodded apprehensively. "Yeah," he focused on keeping his voice even, "Yeah, I… you were gone, Dean, Cas was gone, Bobby was dead. I mean Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown."

"So you just turned tail on the family business?"

"Nothing says 'family' quite like the whole family being dead."

"I wasn't dead." Dean's voice had hardened, become defensive. He rose to his feet, still clutching the bottle. "In fact, I was knee-deep in God's armpit, killing monsters. Which I thought is what we actually do." He was right next to Sam now, trying to drill a lesson in to his head.

Sam turned to face him. "Yes, Dean, and as far as I knew, what we do is what got every single member of my family killed. I had no one. No one. And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone. And honestly, I didn't exactly have a road map. So, yeah, I fixed up the Impala, and I just… drove."

Dean's arms were crossed, his jaw squared and tight. Though Sam had two inches on him, he felt small when met with the scrutinizing parental stare Dean was inspecting him with. "After you looked for me," he declared. It wasn't a question. Because it was never a question; they always looked for one another. Every single time, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the other told them. Sam felt the guilt he had been avoiding for the past year come crashing down on him all at once. Here it was caught up with him in this room. Dropping his eyes, he braced himself for Dean's inevitable mistrust.

"Did you look for me, Sam?" He didn't look up. He didn't want to see the disappointment he knew would be prevalent on his brother's face. The crack in Dean's voice had barely been there, but Sam had heard it. He turned his head to further distance himself from it.

Something in Dean snapped. Sam felt him shift his weight between his legs, and then saw his arms fall to his sides out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, Sam saw the frustration he feared would be Dean's response.

"Good," he snapped harshly, "no, fantastic. We always used to ignore that, because of our deep, undying love for one another. We're brothers, and we put that above all else. But not this time, huh, Sammy? Bully for you. So you've found your out from the family life you never really wanted and Cas has been off making friendly with the freaking Devil. Perfect."

Sam flinched. "What?" So Dean had known something about Cas. He figured he must have based on his reaction to the angel's name, but this was news to Sam. He hadn't seen much of Castiel after Dean's apparent not-death, field-trip to Purgatory.

"Cas wasn't there," Dean was bordering on rage now, "I don't know how he didn't get pulled in with me, maybe angels are immune. But the last day I was in there, running and fighting for my life, I heard him calling me out of nowhere. I saw him. He took me to this portal thing, told me that it could bring me back. Then the next thing I know somethin's grabbin' hold of me, and when I wake up I'm in a forest somewhere, and Lucifer," he breaks to laugh, "freaking Lucifer is out of his cage yellin' and screamin' at Cas about bein' on a suicide mission or somethin.' I don't know I didn't pay much attention to their conversation, but from the looks of it they'd been buddy-buddy for a while. Bottom line Lucifer's out of his cage and Cas didn't do jack squat to shove his ass back in after all we went through to lock him up the first freakin' time. So my own brother's turned his back on me and now my best friend's got it in with the Devil. Fantastic." He glowered at Sam. "And you should have been there to stop him. Because that's what we do, Sam. We hunt evil."

"I had no idea Cas was even alive," Sam breathed, "I-I thought, if that blast killed you it must've killed him too. I didn't know. How, how did Lucifer even get out?"

"Hell if I know!" Dean shouted to the air.

"Okay, so," Sam exhaled shakily. This was bad. If Cas had been alive, why hadn't he sought him out to tell him that the Devil was back? He would have gone back to the job if he'd known. He cringed; no, he realized, I wouldn't have. And if Cas had shown up at my doorstep, he must've sensed it, too. I was out and I was happy. He felt the guilt weigh heavier on his heart. I was happy to leave all of that behind. "Dean, I… I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Yeah, and it seems like you weren't too interested either," Dean snapped venomously. Sam's hurt expression tugged at his heart a little; he tried to calm down, but didn't apologize. He had a right to be angry.

"It's not his fault, Dean," Came a familiar, gravelly voice. The Winchesters looked up simultaneously to see Castiel standing under the frame separating the dining room from the living room. His coat, which was normally a little dirty, looked like it had survived a forest fire; gray singe marks littered the dull tan, and burn holes were scattered throughout. But he himself had a refreshing glow to him. His skin looked healthy and his eyes were brighter than Sam remembered them. "I purposefully kept him in the dark in regards to Lucifer's freedom."

Dean's whole body tensed. Sam saw him grasping the handle of the knife sheathed at his side. Both of them knew a silver blade to be useless on an angel. Dean was just reaching out for the closest weapon. "You'd better get explaining," he demanded.

Castiel skipped a beat. "Please, try to understand, without his assistance I would have been unable to retrieve you from Purgatory."

"Yeah and without his demons I'd have a life of beer on the beach and girls in bikinis, so if you're about to tell me I owe him one, I don't owe him jack. Now talk."

Castiel inhaled uncomfortably. "I don't know how he got out of his cage. He wouldn't give me a straight answer. But he helped me recover from taking on the burden I lifted from Sam's mind. Which I deserved after having put him in that state to begin with, but he said he wouldn't see an angel reduced to something so pathetic. So he aided me in my recovery. I was weary of his intentions, and did not trust him at first, but… He did nothing. All he ever wanted from me, in all the times we talked, was just to talk. Often times for the simple sake of conversation. And even after I was stable again, he only ever wanted to talk."

"So," Dean cut him off, "so wait. You're saying that he was out before I went to Purgatory? And you didn't tell us?"

"I did knew how you would react," Castiel explained, "and I knew that perhaps it was better that I did inform you but…" his eyes pleaded, "…Dean, I destroyed everything. I caused so much pain on Earth but I devastated Heaven. I murdered my own kin. My brothers and sisters. And now those that are left feel nothing but disdain and hatred for me. And I don't blame them. They have every right. But he… he didn't. He forgave me. And I didn't want to let that go. Angels need their siblings, Dean. We're not designed to handle loneliness."

"Don't feed me no damn sob story," Dean snapped, "So far I'm not hearing any legit reason you didn't gank his feathery ass on sight."

"Dean," Sam interjected.

"No don't you dare go defending him, not this time. This is too far, Cas! Dammit man this is the Devil we're talking about here! Do you not forget the entire year you, me, and Sam spent hunting his ass down to throw him back in to Hell? Do you not remember all that you did for us, all the direct orders you disobeyed to help us stop the apocalypse? Do you not remember all you rebelled for? Hell you gave me a serious beat down when I forgot, so is it my turn to do the same for you? 'Cause I'm seriously considering it. What did you honestly think, that he's just here to talk? He's here to get that show back on the road! And now that Heaven's gone all to shit, he's got the ultimate opportunity!"

"I thought so too," Cas admitted, "but Dean, you were gone a year. Sam was no longer hunting. The vessel he has now is stable, and Michael, as far as I know, is still in the cage. He would have met no resistance whatsoever. If those were truly his intentions, don't you think he would have acted on those plans by now?"

Dean snorted. "So what, your'e saying that he broke out of Hell just to talk to you? Sit down with you for a family bonding session?" Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

"Did you ever think that maybe he was the one that sent me to Purgatory?" Dean accused, "that maybe getting rid of me was part of it? How the Hell did you even get out of the way of that blast? Or was it not the blast at all, was it him?"

"It was the God weapon," Cas confirmed, "and it was my fault that you went to Purgatory, not his. He forewarned me that the weapon had a backlash. I was so preoccupied with watching the Leviathan's death that I forgot to warn you to step back. He pulled me away. He tried to grab you as well, but he hadn't seen it in time. You were taken to Purgatory, and it was my fault, Dean."

The hunter only smiled an unforgiving, lifeless smile. "He's playing you, Cas. I don't know how just yet but he's playing you. And you're an idiot for falling for it."

"Dean," Sam hissed more harshly this time. He had felt useless for most of this conversation, unsure of whose side to take, but Dean was starting to go too far.

"No, he needs to hear it," Dean gestured towards the angel who was shrinking more and more in to himself the longer their conversation held. "Because the moment he lets his guard down that ass is gonna do somethin'. He didn't just break out of Hell now, after he's been down there for however many thousands of years, and decide he wants to have a relationship with another angel again. No, he's got somethin' in the mix, and Cas is an idiot for honestly thinking otherwise. He's a snake, Cas. I know that, Sam knows that, I thought you knew that, but obviously you've still got a few screws loose up there."

"Dean-"

"No, I think I've heard enough of this. Tell him to piss off back underground. Until you do I don't want to see you."

"Dean that's enough," Sam said firmly, "you're being absurd."

"No, I'm the only one here who's being realistic. We hunt evil, Cas, we hunt and kill anything that's branded with hellfire. He's the one that fuels the freaking flame. If you want to be all brotherly-love with the ruler of Hell fine, I can't stop ya, but I ain't havin' you around if you are. We lost everything to his demons: our mom, our dad, even each other. We were lucky enough to make it out. They weren't. So you've gotta choose, man. I thought we were a family. You certainly thought so at one point, because you turned your back on Heaven for us. I don't know when we stopped being enough, but if we have then fine. You just keep telling yourself that he's not manipulating you and not using the one thing he knows will be your weakness to get an in with you." Dean held Castiel's gaze through his entire speech, never so much as blinking. Castiel broke the eye contact first, fleetingly, to look at Sam, who was noticeably as conflicted as he was.

"Dean, I'm not choosing him over y-"

"I never said you were," Dean cut off, "I'm telling you to choose between him and us now. Just know that if you choose him you're putting yourself on the list of creatures we hunt."

Sam looked at him in disbelief. They'd killed angels. They'd had minimal qualms about it. But he could not believe that Dean would ever categorize Cas with them. Cas was not like the rest of the angels. He was how Sam had always imagined angels: pure intentions, honesty, servants of man and God. The rest of them were douchebags with halos at best. How could he just turn his back on Cas like that, after all they'd been through? He wanted to voice it desperately, but words would not come.

The angel's lips parted in shock at Dean's cold words. Like Sam, however, no words came out. His eyes spoke of his guilt, his sorrow, and his betrayal. With a defeated bow of his head, he closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He left. His apology was not that he was choosing the Devil over them, but that he was sorry for having failed Dean's expectations. Sam could hear it, and he knew that Dean had, too. Dean cracked his neck and flexed his hands.

"You know, Dean," Sam said in disbelief, "for someone who was just saying that he'd lost everyone to the Devil, you sure were quick to sacrifice the only friend you have so easily."

Dean looked up at his younger brother. "He'll come around. That wasn't cuttin' him out, Sam. He knows it. If you wanna call it somethin' you call it tough love. He needed to hear it. There's no sugarcoating somethin' like that. He made a bad call. But we'll fix it. Like we always do."

Sam shook his head. "That was a lot of things, Dean. 'Loving' was not one of them. What that was was telling him that making mistakes is unacceptable. But you know what making mistakes is? Human."

"He's not human," Dean pointed out.

"Isn't he?" Sam asked, "'cause I remember him bein' pretty close to it."

"Who's side are you on?" Dean demanded.

"I'm not on anyone's side! There shouldn't be any sides here to begin with! When I made mistakes, we fixed them. When I chose a demon over you, you forgave me and we worked it out. So how is him choosing his brother - and that's what they are Dean, they're brothers - over his friends any worse or any more condemning than what I did? Why is his mistake so unforgivable?"

"Are you seriously asking this?"

"Yes, Dean, I am. Because friends are supposed to forgive each other. So what does that make us if we won't forgive him, his friends, or his keepers?" Sam sighed tensely. "You're not dad, Dean. You forgive people when they screw up. Because you have to."

Dean held his stare, but ultimately was the first to drop it. "He'll come around," he repeated, then crossed the room to reclaim his beer and flop down on the dusty couch. Sam rubbed his face with both hands, sighed again, and trod in to the kitchen in hopes of finding something edible enough to cook for supper. Things were complicated before Dean disappeared, and so far it looked as if they were only going to get worse.

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Please leave any comments! Every one I receive is read and responded to! It helps motivate me to update faster! Like I said this was filler which I don't usually enjoy writing but it's necessary at times. Next update you can expect no direct quoting from the canon. But I like to go back every now and again and remind myself where the hell I am in relation to the canon. Helps me remember that at I am, in fact, going somewhere with all of this. Where exactly you ask? *evil grin*

Until next time, lovelies.