Authors Note: I'd like to offer my most heartfelt apologies at how long this has taken me. i've had this chapter half-written for over a year but it has frankly been a mess of uni and stress and I've barely had the time to come back to it. It's a little heavy on the conversation and character, I promise the next will have more action, whenever that may come.

"Shut up and look for them then chuckles."

"What do you think I'm doing grandpa?"

"Standing there being a smartass."

"It's harder than it looks! Thanks to my baby bro, Batman and Robin are flying under the radar. I just need to see if anyone is thinking about them or picturing their faces or….OW!" A piercing screech blared through Gabriel's temple, shattering any thought signals in its way. He clutched his head, spewing a variety of colourful curses.

"You good?" Bobby asked.

"Holy shitting mother of Jesus that hurt." He breathed deeply, waiting for the pain to fade. "On the bright side, I know where our lost boys are." Bobby stood up immediately, about as eager as Gabriel figured the grouchy hunter could get.

"The other down side is that they're with Raphael." The rare happy expression dropped off Bobby's face like peeling wallpaper.

"How do you know?" He demanded.

"Raphael practically screamed it over angel radio. He's baiting Cas in, oh this is bad." Gabriel paced back and forth, wringing his hands in worry. He didn't have the power to spirit them both away and get himself out without blowing his cover.

"Well go get them!" Bobby ordered. Gabriel looked into Bobby's panic-stricken eyes, dreading the reply he was about to give.

"I…can't." He stammered, barely coherent.

"Come again?" Gabriel stared at his own feet, avoiding the hunter's thunderous glare.

"If I go now, Raphael sees I'm alive and I can kiss peace goodbye. He'll be stuck to my ass like wet leather." His excuses poured from his lips like a waterfall of guilt. Why should he explain himself? He owed nothing to these asshats, he was just tagging along for the ride. When the ride suddenly dropped of a fucking cliff, Gabriel should be able to get off.

"Then Cas will go. Do you think he can take Raphael?" Bobby was no fool; he already knew the answer.

"Raphe will eat him for dinner and have your boys for cleansing mints. I could maybe distract him and get them away but… there's no way I get out intact." He squirmed, grace writhing under the vessel's skin in its haste to escape the discomfort. If this decision was the right one, why did it feel so wrong?

"But-" Bobby began. The unpleasant itch under Gabriel's skin erupted in a burst of irritation.

"No! Why should I be risking my ass again? I've already helped you out and what do I get in return? Absolutely nada. My shift's over, find yourself another angel!" He snapped, stretching his wings to get away as quickly as possible.

"Wait. Send me there." Bobby requested, his tone final. Oh yes, this was the main who raised the Winchesters. Self-sacrificing whackjobs, the whole lot of them.

"Are you crazy? He'll kill you, do you realise that?" He challenged. Damning all of them in one action was beyond even his conscience.

"Quit whining and do it." This wasn't a request; it was a command. With all the reluctance of a monarch signing their sibling's death warrant, Gabriel touched Bobby's arm and sent him to his doom.

It's all Sam's fault, with his big brown doe eyes and soft smile, coming into Gabriel's life and spreading out on the couch like he belonged there, hauling in a big bag of problems to put on Gabriel's already cluttered shelf. No, he'd had it; he wasn't about to give everything up to help two humans. But he couldn't just let them die…urgh. Why did life victimise him this way? He was content with debauchery but it just had to throw a Winchester-shaped spanner in the works. And on the fourth day God was in a fucking terrible mood so He decided to make an innocent angel named Gabriel and take out all his frustrations by ruining his life. That sounded about right. He didn't want to play heaven's game; that was long in the past. Of course neither did the Winchesters but they were stuck doing it anyway. Guilt had never been Gabriel's strong suit; it just wasn't something he knew how to deal with. Living a life in the moment and never dwelling on the past in an effort to live regret-free. Running away from his problems, now that was something he could do. It was time for him to disappear and, with knots in his stomach and a weight in his mind, that is exactly what he did.

A grey-suited angel snatched the key out of Dean's clenched fist. Invisible force held his body pinned uselessly to the gravel yet again, unable to lift his head even to stare his death in the face. Of course Raphael would want to gloat rather than just killing them quickly, why did every evil thing in existence love the sound of their own superiority? He had no chance of escaping like this, not unless…much like demons, angels were very easy to goad into anger. A break in defence could be an opportunity. Of course, it could just mean being splattered all over the pavement with a click of the fingers but was Raphael strong enough to hold Sam down while smiting Dean? Something that messy has gotta use up a lot of juice, right? If he could provide a split second distraction, Sam could slip away. No, that was stupid. Sam wouldn't leave him, he knew that. Heels clicked across a stone floor as Raphael paced, he must be waiting for someone.

"I appreciate the lie down chuckles but this floor is hell on the knees." Dean called out, straining his neck in an effort to raise his mouth away from the floor. Raphael ignored him. He tried again.

"I'm sorry, are we interrupting your walk?"

"Believe me, I wish I could kill you. I'm not fond of dwelling in the company of such insignificant creatures but I'm afraid this is necessary. For whatever reason, one of my younger brothers in particularly fond." The voice was different: higher, feminine. But there was no mistaking the cold monotony that weighed on every word. Cas would come for them, trap or not. Dean knew it. There hadn't been a single time he'd let them down, even against impossible odds, even against his own family. He winced as the image of Cas' violent demise rushed to the forefront of his mind. Even if it went dying. He repeated a silent prayer in his mind.

It's a trap, look after yourself, don't worry about us, you'd be outnumbered, don't risk it. It's a trap, look after your-

"I know you're praying to him." Raphael stated, with all the vigour of a ten-year-old receiving socks for Christmas. "Don't let me stop you, tell him everything. He'll come anyway. Then I can rid myself of 3 irritating insects in one." Dean bit his tongue, stifling the retorts that threatened to burst forth. Instead, he worked through his limited options. If he could distract Raphael, Cas could grab Sam and disappear. But would he be fast enough to evade Raphael's security detail? Dean couldn't gauge how many angels there were from hearing alone, the only footsteps to be heard were Raphael's, but he doubted Raphael would have only one angel guarding his precious hide. Not after the Balthazar incident. Nose pressed to the gravel, he could see no other options.

Right Cas listen up buddy. I need you to wait until I've got Raphael worked up and then you grab Sam and leave. Don't worry about me, just get him out of here.

The seconds ticked by. Still no sign. He had no way of knowing if Cas had even heard him. He could be waiting on Dean's distraction. Dean took the chance.

"Think you've made a mistake here shitdick." Raphael ignored him. "No I mean this is some top quality plan right here. No wonder daddy didn't love you." He could hear Sam whispering from somewhere on his right.

"Dean what the fuck are you doing?" Dean ignored him.

"So you've started this dick measuring contest to…what? Get his approval. Now that's middle child syndrome right there. I mean, you're an archangel but you weren't the first were you? You've got Michael and Luci, they were the real apples of dad's eye weren't they? And then you had Gabe as your classic adorable little brother, always getting all the attention and fuss. Where did that leave you? Judging by this tantrum of yours, it ain't somewhere good." Silence. Raphael's footsteps had stopped. Dean held his breath. The force that had pinned him down disappeared and he managed to raise his head a fraction before being thrown into a solid wall. His head connected with a sickening crunch and he fell to the floor. Stars clouded his vision, appearing as quickly as he could blink them away. He tried to push himself up, attempting to ignore the blinding pain ripping through his skull. It did no good. Shapes and colours danced in front of his eyes, never focusing into something tangible. He struggled to his knees, ignoring the screams of protest from his limbs. All hearing in his left ear was gone, as if he'd been submerged in water. He touched a hand to his ear. It came away wet.

"It would be unwise to test me." Raphael said calmly, his voice muffled but coherent. The whole world swayed and danced but Dean could just make out the figures in the scene before him. Mainly, the dark skinned woman standing in the foreground he presumed to be Raphael. A new shape manifested immediately behind him. Cas? His heart leapt in hope.

"Like hell, jackass." A gunshot followed Bobby's voice.

Castiel landed lightly on solid ground. Balthazar followed suit, brushing the wrinkles from his jacket he'd obtained in the flight. Raphael had his back to them, wings crackling in fury as he advanced on Bobby Singer. Castiel could feel Bobby's fear permeating through his defiance, yet he raised his shotgun to fire another pointless shot. He didn't need to, Raphael stopped dead in his tracks. Clearly sensing Castiel's presence, he turned. To his left, Sam struggled to his feet, his face and hands peppered with scrapes. Raphael gave no sign of noticing and kept his stone eyes fixed on Castiel, wings flaring impressively behind him in a show of strength. A threat like this from an archangel was hard to ignore; the code hardwired into Castiel's brain screamed at him to submit. But another sensation was demanding his attention, the sickening grasp of human pain clawed at his mind. He was always well-tuned to the suffering of humanity, but he was particularly in touch with the pain of certain ones.

"Cas?" He turned towards Dean's voice and reached out with his grace, feeling for the source of the pain.

"Castiel do not turn away from me," Raphael commanded, his tone carrying the weight of authority. Castiel strode over to where Dean knelt. Dean stared at him with unfocused eyes, his hands reaching up to grip Castiel's arm as he gently tapped two fingers to Dean's head. His grace sought out the fracture in Dean's skull, smoothing it over and healing the damage.

"Castiel," Raphael called again, his voice audibly shaking with poorly-concealed anger. Castiel shot Dean what he hoped would be a reassuring smile before turning to face his foe. "It's over Castiel, I have the key. How could you ever imagine your hairless apes could keep it from me?" Balthazar snorted loudly, breaking the tension held by Raphael's commanding stare.

"Well I'll kneel in submission now then shall I? I can't hope to defy the holder of the key to a fish and chip shop somewhere in Coventry." Balthazar chuckled at the success of his plan. Castiel joined in his mirth, smiling as the satisfaction in Raphael's expression wavered. He held his arm aloft, uncurling his fingers to reveal something minute balanced on his palm. Raphael's eyes flickered to the small stone in his hand. It was most unimpressive in appearance at first glance but there was something decidedly unsettling about it when it caught the light, a faint glow that was barely noticeable to even an angel's eyes. When Castiel had plucked it carefully from the weapon hoard, it had begun to hum softly, sending ripples through his vessel's skin. All grandeur slipped from Raphael's form; he seemed to shrink into the confines of his vessel, wide eyes fixed on Cas' hand in abject horror. His falter made Castiel bold.

"Balthazar and I are not sure what this does. Or even what it is," his tone affecting a bravado he'd never known himself to possess. Perhaps the Winchesters really had rubbed off on him. Balthazar strode up beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"But I think we just found the perfect test subject," he remarked.

"This isn't over," Raphael warned. With one last formidable glare in his direction, Raphael disappeared in a whirl of plumage.

"That's right run away," Dean mumbled from behind him.

"What do you mean gone?!" Bobby's expression was unreadable as he turned to face Sam. After Raphael had turned tail and ran, Cas had spirited them back to Bobby's place and, to Balthazar's intense annoyance, agreed to hang around and answer some of their questions which included, but were not limited to, 'what the hell?' (courtesy of Sam) and 'can I murder your best friend?' (courtesy of Dean). Bobby also had some explaining to do, and had recounted the events since Dean and Sam had been thrown through a portal to wonderland. One detail of his recollection in particular had snagged Sam's attention.

"Just upped and left," Bobby elaborated, "that angel's flightier than a werewolf at a jewellery store." Sam struggled to seem nonchalant. Honestly, he knew that he should be unsurprised that Gabriel had vanished; angels were in the habit of doing that and Gabriel had no loyalty to them. But he couldn't shake the hurt and disappointment he felt at Bobby's words, as illogical as those feelings were. With Gabriel there, hell felt more distant. Dean helped in his own way, throwing them both into hunts and research and barely giving him time to remember. But Gabe was different. Granted, his ability to zap Sam into dreamless sleep was much appreciated but it wasn't just that. The funfair had been a genuinely fun distraction that hadn't been drenched in gore; the kind Dean and Sam could never afford. Dean expressed his confusions aloud.

"Why'd he even turn up? I thought he'd fucked off to do whatever immortal assholes do all day?"

"Something about checking on Sam's mind funnel, so he says," Bobby replied, his tone doubtful.

"Why? Did he think something was wrong?" Sam asked quickly, trying and failing to conceal the note of panic in his voice. If there was something off about the delicate precaution Death had set up in his mind, it would explain why the archangel had spent so much time with him, monitoring his mental state.

"Hell if I know, that's all he said."

"Should we call him?" Sam proposed, "I mean if it's something important."

"After he basically left us for dead? Not freaking likely. Besides, Cas can check your head out." At Dean's suggestion, Cas rose from his awkward position on the couch and took Sam's head forcefully between his hands.

"Hey, ouch!" Cas ignored Sam's protests but released his head after a moment.

"There's nothing out of the ordinary," Cas concluded.

"You mean apart from all the hell?" Sam joked feebly. Dean snorted audibly and Cas looked at him in disdain.

"Yes, apart from all the hell," Cas confirmed, turning back to Sam. "Your memories are filtering through at a normal pace." He paused, his expression suddenly softer. "I'm afraid more will come back to you tonight." Sam sucked in a breath and nodded, he'd figured as much.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Cas." He stood up, Dean's eyes following him in concern.

"I'll just… go then. See if I can find any more about purgatory lore." His excuse was weak; the others would see through it in an instant. But they let him go anyway, always respecting one another's need for alone time.

Dean watched Sam leave with a sour taste in his mouth. The urge to save his little brother from whatever big bad was lurking under his bed was a difficult one to shake; sitting there uselessly made his skin itch like a rash of worry that he could never cure, the pain becoming more severe the more he scratched. This was Sam's battle to fight; he could only cheer him on from the sidelines, offering half-time oranges and the occasional thumbs-up.

"Dean, are you alright?" Cas had managed to appear next to him without a sound, his question shaking Dean from his thoughts.

"Yeah Cas, I'm just peachy. Alternate universes really screw with your head," Dean replied earnestly. Cas' eyes flickered downwards, the corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling into a minute smile. In fact, Dean could've sworn he looked sheepish.

"My apologies, I was unaware of the nature of the distraction Balthazar promised," Cas promised solemnly. He'd ran over the weapons situation with them as soon as they'd landed in Bobby's living room. Meaning that they now knew that Balthazar's weapon hoard definitely existed, that Cas had access to it, and that Raphael wasn't happy about it.

"Do you know what that stone does?" Dean asked. He assumed (and hoped) that Balthazar had taken it to safety; anything that could put a look of such fear on the face of an archangel wasn't something he wanted to mess with. Well, not without ensuring that it wouldn't vaporise its user first. Cas' smile grew into something far more definite.

"Not exactly, but we had our suspicions. Raphael just confirmed them," Cas explained, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. After so long seeing Cas beaten down and weary, the subtle cockiness he rarely affected was a welcome change. Dean couldn't help but feel a swell of hope; he had faith in Cas' confidence. Of course, he could simply be affecting the form of last-chance bluff Dean himself was so fond of, as he'd shown in the cemetery shortly before exploding into thousands of pieces. He winced at the mental image, yet he liked seeing Cas so sure of himself despite overwhelming odds. It was a human quality, the playful swagger of a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And, as loathe as Dean was to admit it, for a split second he'd found it kinda hot. The bravado, of course, not like Cas was hot. Well, he was definitely attractive but not like in that way. As in an 'ethereal creature impossible to see or even imagine turned close friend happens to be inhabiting the body of a mildly attractive man' sort of way. But then again, also in a 'mannerisms of said ethereal creature are actually kinda cute' way. Oh god.

"You fractured your skull," Cas stated, oblivious of Dean's internal dilemmas.

"I-er, what?" Dean replied eloquently.

"A linear fracture in the base of your skull where you struck the wall." Dean couldn't help but notice that Cas balled his hands into tight fists as he spoke.

"Ah, well." Dean ran a hand over the back of his head. "No harm done, you fixed that up good. We've both had worse." Cas chuckled at that.

"Yes, many things pale in comparison to death or hell," he observed. Cas was still standing rigidly next to the couch, making it difficult for Dean to read his expressions. Not like it wasn't always somewhat difficult. This was probably the longest time Cas had stuck around lately, without an urgent reason for him to be there. Dean shuffled along the sofa, leaving enough space for Cas to sit down. Cas clearly took the hint as he sat down, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"I'm going out," Bobby announced, popping his head out of the kitchen, "try not fall into another universe while I'm gone."

"Can't promise anything Bobby, you know us," Dean retorted. Bobby huffed and strode past them, wearing his least battered hunter's cap.

"You going to see sheriff Mills?" Dean called to him, a teasing edge to his voice.

"No!" Bobby immediately shot back. "Maybe. Shut up!" And with that charming statement, he was out the door, leaving Dean and Cas in companionable silence.

"Do you need to be back? S'been a while since you've stayed still this long. I dunno, no intergalactic battles calling your name?" Dean inquired, only half-jokingly.

"We're safe for the time being; bringing recent events into account, Raphael will be regrouping. This is the calm before the storm, as you humans say," Cas replied. His posture was become decidedly more relaxed, perhaps really taking a break for the first time in a while.

"I have to ask, is this your first break in over a year?" Dean asked, his brow furrowing in worry. Here he was wrapped up in his own, admittedly very pressing, family problems while Cas was somewhere stretching himself to breaking point trying to fix heaven. Cas simply looked befuddled by the question so Dean attempted to elaborate. "When…when I lived with Lisa and Ben I didn't hear one peek from up top." Committing these words to air was difficult; as much as Dean pretended that jumping straight back into a hunter's life, it simply wasn't the truth. You can't erase an entire year of your life just like that. Especially not that king of year. Not a year with the woman he'd loved; not a year with a boy who became the closest thing to his own child Dean had ever or might ever experience. But he just hadn't belonged there, that had become clear after the first couple of months. Subjecting Lisa and Ben to his own personal horrorshow had been a big mistake, one they didn't deserve. The hell nightmares hadn't gone away, he doubted they ever would. But they'd resurfaced with a vengeance in the last year, with Sam and Lisa and Cas and Ben and Bobby subjected to the worst shit his asshole brain could conjure deep in the night. Lisa was understanding, more than he could ever have hoped. But it had taken for a long time for him to realise that denying the main part of his life by cutting off Cas and Bobby was just doing more harm in the long run. Whenever Cas spoke of the war in heaven, or whenever Bobby mentioned the monster mash that had been growing in the last year, Dean couldn't help but feel personally guilty for turning his back that way. He'd thought no contact would help him adjust to white picket life. Whichever idiots preached the idea of a clean break were talking horseshit apparently.

"It's just crazy," he mused aloud, "we stopped the apocalypse together and we could've just never seen each other again. That's it, adios?" Cas was silent, his expression unreadable as blue eyes burned into Dean's own. The frustration bubbling up inside him for so long came to a head, bursting out of Dean in one snap of caring aggression. "You could've died, man! And we'd never have known."

"Dean…I," Cas began but trailed off, breaking eye contact to fix his gaze on the wall before him. Dean felt himself deflating, his anger seeping out.

"Sorry man, I just…" But he didn't know what to say. So they sat staring forwards, words unsaid hanging in the mild air between them, each wondering how to voice just some of them.

Balthazar followed Castiel through the, frankly, disgusting corridor he'd summoned him to. Clearly, whoever was in charge of this place, and from the off white tiles and charming concrete flooring he suspected it may be a medical building of some description, had ignored all human health codes. Or perhaps the rainbow of stains that adorned the walls contributed the aesthetic they were going for. They rounded a corner and Balthazar found himself in a cheerful looking tiled room with a high, domed roof, decorated with all manner of cages and implements that would make the Marquis de Sade blush. Some were occupied. Balthazar inhaled deeply. Wet dog and rotten blood made an unpleasant scent combination, but one indicative of werewolves and vampires if one possessed senses as strong as an angel's. But even that couldn't mask the pungent reek of sulphur, which Balthazar could immediately attribute to the uncaged demon standing in the middle of the room holding pliers. Cas approached the demon, his wings prone and his stance non-hostile. Neither of them seemed bothered by the other.

"Cassie do you want to explain to me what's going on?" Balthazar prompted, staying rooted at the entrance of the room in case of emergency.

"Balthazar, this is…"

"Crowley, king of hell," the demon butted in, tossing the pliers aside with a loud clang and slithering towards him with a hand outstretched.

"Really," Balthazar uttered in disbelief, staring at the offered hand with revulsion. "You're the king of hell?". The demon, Crowley, dropped his hand and backed off slightly.

"I'm wounded, I really am," he drawled sarcastically. Balthazar looked at Cas over this abomination's shoulder.

"Cassie what the fuck is the king of hell doing here?" Once again, it was the demon and not Cas that replied.

"I'm his business partner." Balthazar turned his attention back to Crowley, folding his arms in a clear show of disdain.

"In the business of?" He questioned. The twisted mouth of Crowley's demonic form curled into an obvious smirk.

"Saving the bloody world."