AN: Thank you to all those who reviewed my story or added it to their favs and alert lists. You make my day!

Without further ado, I present before you the 7th chapter of Tryst with Perdition...

Chapter 7

Sam poured another shot of whiskey in the glass and gulped it down in one go, relishing the burn of alcohol as it made its way down his throat. He winced at the bitter taste that lingered in his mouth and absently rubbed his sleep-ridden eyes. He had been too restless to get much sleep last night and had ended up returning to his research. He had yet to find anything useful to kill Alistair.

He sighed as he replayed yesterday's conversation with Dean in his mind. They had yet to say a word to each other. He knew that they were both being incredibly stubborn and stupid. But damn it Dean was being unreasonable. If only Dean would let him help….

As Sam sat there drowning in his misery and disappointment, a car, which could only be called an antique in its old age, pulled up outside. It didn't take long before the door was thrown open and Bobby entered the living room.

"Tough night?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What gave me away?" Sam replied, not bothering to look up from his glass.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you are trying to drink yourself into oblivion at noon? What's the matter kid?"

Reluctantly, Sam explained everything that had happened the previous day. Bobby could clearly see that the boys had had another spat and as usual, being the most mature member of Team Free Will, set out to rectify it.

"Sam, you know that your brother is too hard-headed for his own good. The two of you need to stop fighting like a married couple and do something worthwhile. Now go and talk to him." Bobby ordered and Sam wisely chose to obey.

Depositing his glass on the table, Sam walked out to the garage where his brother was working away at his impala.

Dean had spent the better half of the night and most of the morning in the garage, tuning up and generally fussing about his impala's nuts and bolts. It was no surprise that Dean had returned to his beloved car in search for solace. It was not just a vehicle to him; it was his home, his safe-house. It provided him comfort and acceptance.

Afterall, the impala had been the one constant in his life ever since he could remember. He recalled memories from another time when he was still a kid; riding in the back seat of the impala with Sammy and Dad at the wheel, singing along classic rock with his father or sharing humorous jokes and whispered secrets with Sammy.

The impala was a storehouse of precious memories that he cherished and reminisced at all times; good or bad. Not many could comprehend the level of commitment that Dean harbored towards his car. Yet, the car had played an extremely important role in is life.

The 67 Chevy Impala was a treasured companion of its owner and was held in high regard. The car, though being an inanimate object, had stood by Dean through all the rough and lonely fractions of his life. It was the single possession of a man who had lost everything. And indeed, he had lost so much: a mother, a chance to have a normal life, his friends and fellow hunters; even his father had left him alone to hunt Azazel and so had Sammy when he left for college.

And Dean was tired of being left behind. The impala was the only thing that had stayed with him in his lonely life. 'Pathetic' he thought to himself. But Sammy was with him now. He didn't have to be alone anymore.

Subconsciously, Dean was aware that his most recent confrontation with Sam stemmed from a phobia he had successfully kept hidden throughout his life. The fear of being alone. It was this overbearing fear that had motivated him to look after Sammy since they were kids; that had driven him to make that depraved crossroads deal. The fear of being left all alone in the world; of having no one to love and be loved compelled him to sacrifice himself for his loved ones over and over again.

Now this overwhelming fear had become the primary reason for keeping his memories of hell from Sam. Sam couldn't know about hell, couldn't know about all the atrocious crimes his big brother had committed in hell. Sam's opinion about Dean, his love and respect for his elder brother was the only thing that mattered to Dean. That look of absolute trust and devotion that still glimmered in Sam's eyes when he gazed at him, even when hunting had degraded every virtue that Sam had believed in and had robbed his world of all colours leaving his world bleak and tainted, was the single most important reason for his existence. His little brother was his world, afterall.

With these thoughts in mind, Dean resolved to keep his hell to himself and never reveal the truth to Sammy. Sam couldn't know. If Sam found out his darkest secret, it would destroy him. Nothing could convince him to reveal the truth to Sam. Nothing.

Sam reluctantly walked out to the backyard where Dean was working on his impala. He grudgingly put one foot in front of the other, not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. While it was true that he was a firm believer of the philosophy of talking things out and solving problems rather than burying the problem and ignoring it, in this instance, he had no idea what to say.

He knew that Dean was too stubborn to give in easily, but then, Sam could be stubborn too. It was a Winchester trait passed down through the generations. But would it be enough? His musings were cut short as he finally reached his brother.

"Hey." It was all Sam could think of to say.

"Hey." Dean replied in the like, apparently not knowing what to say either.

Sam knew that he had to be careful of what to say to his brother. There were issues that Dean was too sensitive about to be able to address them freely. So he decided to begin by expressing the most dominant emotion trickling through his veins. Guilt.

"I…I'm sorry…about earlier…" Sam finally said, unable to look his brother in the eyes.

"Yeah…me too." Dean replied. An awkward silence ensued.

"Look Sam…I know that you're just trying to help…but I…I won't talk about hell. I can't."

Sam remained silent for a few moments. Though he did not agree with Dean, he knew better than to push his brother to talk.

"Dean…are you alright?" With so much going on in their lives, Sam decided to prioritise his queries. The unexpected question, however, caught Dean off guard. What? Really, the kid was the only one who had the ability and the incomprehensibly twisted Winchester logic to render even Dean Winchester speechless.

"I'm fine, Sam. I…I'm fine." Dean replied after a moment.

"Right…so…"

"What Sam?"

"Well…we know that Alistair is still after you and…we..we need to kill him Dean…before…"

Dean sighed, an irrational burst of fear exploding in his body.

"I don't know Sam. Bobby says that a simple exorcism won't work. Ruby's knife might work if we can get close enough to Alistair to actually use it…"

"Ruby's knife won't work." Sam quickly refuted. "Ruby made the demon-killing knife herself. But Alistair is much higher on the hierarchical order of hell than her. Ruby's knife isn't strong enough to take down someone of Alistair's caliber."

"Okay…and you know this how?" Dean challenged.

"Um...Well…she told me herself." Sam stammered, mentally cursing at himself for allowing his mouth to run away on its own.

"Sam, what are you not telling me?" Dean asked. Though he had a suspicion that he knew what Sam had done, he still hoped that Sam had more sense than that.

"Dean..I...just calm down and listen to me okay…I had been searching for days but I couldn't find anything on how to kill Alistair. I had no choice. So I asked Ruby for help…"

"Damn it, Sam! Are you crazy?"

"What was I supposed to do, Dean? I couldn't just let you die…"

"Damnit Sam, She's a demon."

"And probably the only thing that could help us to kill Alistair."

"She can't be trusted, Sam. Hell, she would probably betray us and maybe even deliver us to Alistair herself. How could you be so stupid, Sam."

Despite having yelled at his brother before, Dean's voice sounded almost defeated now. Like he was just giving up. And Dean Winchester was not prone to giving up. It was this fact that urged Sam to calm down and offer some shred of comfort and assurance to his brother. Because there was just no way that he would let his brother give up. He spoke in a gentle voice.

"Dean, we'll figure it out. We always do. But right now, if we want to kill Alistair, we need her help. I'm not ready to let that demon take you, Dean. Not now, after I finally have you back."

"Sam…"

Just then Bobby's shout floated out to the two somewhat reconciled brothers.

"DEAN! SAM! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

Bobby was known in the hunting community to be a tough hunter hardened by life and circumstances. He was revered and respected. Bobby had been proud of the rigid and immovable image that he knew he projected when he was in the company of hunters or people in general. Trust the Winchesters to crush that image to dust.

Bobby shook his head to rid himself of the moment of weakness that had inspired him to push the boys to resolve their problems. He was a hunter. Not a match-maker, damnit! But those Winchester boys had always occupied his weak spot.

While Sam was out talking to Dean, Bobby's mind strayed to the still unconscious angel in his panic room. He felt a strange feeling churning in his gut and with a start he realised that the feeling was 'worry'. He was worried about Cass.

As if worrying about Sam and Dean wasn't enough, he had now begun to care about the angel too. Great. Since when did he turn into such a girl?

While Bobby was unhappily contemplating his hidden feminine side, he failed to notice the source of his worry sneaking up behind him.

"Bobby."

The hunter whirled around towards the voice and came face to face with Cass himself.

"Castiel! You're awake!" Bobby couldn't help but yell out, losing his seemingly uncaring facade for a moment before recovering his composure.

"Yes. It would seem that I have regained my consciousness. But I find myself confused. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the cause of my current condition?" Cass asked, his tone bearing a little bit of fatigue and vulnerability that was usually absent from his inflection.

However, these words had barely escaped out of Cass's mouth before the aforementioned angel collapsed forward into the waiting arms of Bobby.

"Cass! CASS!" Bobby shook the disoriented angel a little harder than was prudent or required.

"I seem to be lacking a significant fraction of my strength and grace." Castiel explained as though apologizing for his weak state.

'Just sit down and rest." Bobby told the angel and then proceeded to summon the brothers.

"DEAN! SAM! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

The Winchesters along with Bobby gathered in Bobby's kitchen with varying degrees of worry painted on their faces. Castiel, still in his weakened state, was draped on the sofa while the hunters sat around the angel. All was silent for a few moments. No one quite knew how to begin. Finally, impatience got the better of Dean and he decided to break the tense silence.

"So Cass. How did you get captured?"

Castiel frowned and then answered the question. "Holy oil. The demons used holy oil to incapacitate me." Everyone fell silent. The prospect of the demons possessing something that was akin to poison to the mighty angels was a frightening one to consider. This time the silence was broken by Castiel.

"But I fail to understand how demons succeeded in acquiring holy oil. They will undoubtedly use it as a weapon against angels."

Sam hesitantly answered Cass. "Um…Cass…well….we know who captured you. It…It was..Alistair."

"A high level demon like him could get his hands on it, I guess." Dean added, his face an impenetrable mask displaying a false sense of calm.

Castiel was stunned for a few moments. "I suppose that explains it. The demons that held me captive injected holy oil in my veins. They hoped to gain your location from me. Of coarse, they did not succeed." Cass assured them quickly.

"But I still do not understand how I was rescued; or how I feel considerably better now despite holy oil being infused in my veins." Castiel asked, his confusion visible in his features. No one answered fearing Cass's reaction. When everyone remained silent, Sam decided to help the perplexed angel.

"Well…we had help. He rescued me and Dean from Alistair too…"

"Who was it?"

"It…it was Gabriel."

Gabriel. Castiel flinched at the name. Gabriel…his brother…who abandoned him…Gabriel…no…it was not possible…Gabriel…

"There must be a mistake." Cass said. "Gabriel left heaven. He left me. It couldn't have been him."

Involuntary images swirled in his mind; memories from another time when he was but a fledgling, encased in his elder brother's wings as he was lulled to sleep….his first flight lesson with Gabriel as his teacher….. Hours upon hours of playtime in heaven….then waking up one day to find Gabriel missing…gone…

Castiel let out a choked sob as his emotions got the better of him. Unable to think with his feelings overriding cognitive reasoning and the pain of betrayal renewed in his heart, Castiel stretched his wings and took flight.

AN: I'd love to know what you think. Review and let me know!