Episode 2 – The Devil's Backbone

Author's Notes: I'm trying to keep it as "realistic" as possible, so it might take a while until we reach the porn… but it will come (no pun intended^^).

Song for this installment: "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars

xXx

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?
I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you
He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone
Oh I just wanna take him home
Oh I just wanna take him home

xXx

It takes over twenty-four hours until what for now is Heaven has returned to something akin to order. As soon as he can allow himself to leave, Castiel creates a portal over Lebanon, Kansas, and makes his way to the bunker.

It is the middle of the night on Earth, maybe even early morning, so calling Sam on his phone might not be considered socially acceptable. Thus, Castiel resigns himself to wait. He wanders off to find some flowers – they are a customary gift in times of grief, after all.

The first rays of sunlight have yet to brighten the sky when Castiel returns, and as luck would have it (he snorts mentally at the notion that luck might actually be with him, given all that has transpired), Castiel reaches the bunker's garage just as the gate begins to close.

The inside is dimly lit, yet he recognizes the younger Winchester's silhouette immediately.

"Sam."

"Cas?"

Before he can so much as reflect on Sam's relieved tone, Castiel senses a presence approaching from his left and with the speed and force of a warrior he spins around and slams the attacker against the garage door, pressing his blade against the creature's throat.

"Is that an angel blade or are you just happy to see me?" it asks in a chillingly familiar voice.

Castiel focuses on the vessel rather than the true fo-

Dean.

He jumps back, his blade clattering to the floor, the sound loud in the large room.

Words fail him. Logic fails him. All that is left is raw emotions and even they contradict each other.

"Cas, no need to panic."

Sam appears to his left, exchanging glances with what clearly is Dean and yet not him at all. His body looks the same, though where once was a bright soul, now sits a creature with skeletal features and a horned skull. Something unusual is going on; it is like the appearance fluctuates, swaying from shining brightness to all-consuming blackness.

"Are you okay?" Sam's question pulls Castiel out of his thoughts and back into his own emotional turmoil. At this moment, confusion wins out and he looks up, meeting green eyes.

"Metatron told me you were dead."

The soft smile is still the same as always and Castiel drinks it in, together with Dean's deep voice as he explains, slightly bitter, "I was. The Mark had other plans."

Castiel reflexively glances down to Dean's arm where he knows the sign to be, although it is currently hidden beneath the plaid of Dean's shirt.

"What about Metatron?" Sam asks. "Is he dead? I mean, you're here, so…?"

Castiel shakes his head, hoping the movement will serve to clear his mind in addition to answering part of the question. It doesn't help.

"We used a ploy to enter Heaven, but they saw through us and put Gadreel and me in prison." He recounts all that has happened since, including Gadreel's heroic suicide, which enabled Castiel to confront Metatron and expose his lies.

"You mean that douchebag's still walking and talking?!" Dean growls, angrier than he usually would be.

"Enough angel blood has been spilt. Heaven's jail will hold him for eterni -"

"Damn it, Cas! After all that he's done to us? To you?!"

"It was my decision to make!" Castiel shouts back, his body filling with rage.

"That fuckin' son of a bitch killed me!"

He has to take a deep breath as not to slam Dean against the nearest wall, and Dean appears to be trying to hold back with equal effort, yet his eyes have turned black and Castiel can but stare into the abyss wanting to swallow him.

Sam coughs pointedly. "Would you… like to come in?" he offers and Castiel nods slowly, attempting to rein in his anger, the hurt, the disappointment… the revulsion that he hates himself for already.

Inside the bunker, Sam makes himself coffee while Dean pours a shot of whiskey from the bottle standing on the table.

"It's four o'clock in the morning, Dean," Castiel feels bound to point out.

"Bite me, Cas," he snaps back, downing the shot in one, and Castiel's eyes track the movement of his throat.

Sam returns from the coffee maker, swallowing nervously and running a hand through his hair.

"So how's, uh, how's Heaven?"

Castiel smiles tentatively, seizing the opportunity of a subject change. "Less chaotic than it was yesterday. Portals are still the only way to enter and exit but we are working on establishing more, also for the Reapers. There are too many souls in the veil."

Sam grimaces and belatedly Castiel remembers that it was Sam's body that was used to kill Kevin. "I'm sorry, I –"

"No, it's… It's good you're… Yeah." Tense silence falls for a moment or two and again, it is Sam who breaks it. "And if you need any help, Cas, just tell us, okay? We'll do what we can."

"We?" Castiel chances a glance in Dean's direction, whose expression is grim but he doesn't contradict his brother.

"Yes. We."

"Won't let a little thing like becoming a Knight of Hell get between me and the family business, right?" Dean quips, yet his voice lacks any kind of frivolity.

Castiel doesn't know how to respond, how to process any of this. The news of Dean's death took the breath out of his lungs, would have been something Castiel would never have moved on from, but this? He knows of the Knights, of what they did, knows that Cain grew ever more wicked and cruel as time wore on… Dean has already been affected by the Mark – how much worse will it become now that his humanity is mostly gone?

"I need to return to Heaven," he mumbles. The excuse is flimsy but he needs to leave now, he needs to… What he needs is to be an angel again, void of human emotions, void of all these feelings that make it hard to breathe.

Castiel hears Sam call after him yet he ignores him, storms out of the bunker and into the chilly morning air.

xXx SUPERNATURAL xXx

Somewhere in India, a hooded man walks through the caves below a Buddhist temple.

The hewed out space has long been abandoned, remnants from times before the temple was rebuilt above the surface. The man inspects the inscription on the walls closely, gloved fingers skirting over stone.

Whatever he is looking for is not here.

He surveys the cave one last time, head turning underneath his hood and, with a sound of wings for no one to hear, disappears.

xXx

The door slams shut, the noise echoing loudly throughout the bunker. Dean steps towards the table again, eyes zeroing in on the bottle and the little alcohol left in it. They're gonna need more.

"Dude," Sam says as he puts himself between Dean and the liquor. "You should go after him."

"What the hell for, Sammy?"

"Just… Do it, okay?"

"And what good'll it do? In case you missed the memo, I'm an ugly demon now and he's still a freakin' angel!"

"He's our friend," Sam insists, not giving him an inch.

"Sure, right," Dean snorts, closing his eyes briefly and immediately opening them again because when he closes them, he's only gonna see Cas, not vessel Cas but actual Cas, 'cause Dean can see that now. And damn, if it's not the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"Dean."

He growls in response but he knows his brother well enough to be sure that he won't get out of this. So he grabs his keys, checks that he has at least some sort of weapon 'cause you never know, and exits the bunker.

He finds Cas a minute later – and he's not alone.

One angels has his arms around Cas in a tight grip, choking him while the second one's in front of him, trailing his angel blade down the front of Cas' chest, and Dean sees red.

He teleports to where Cas' blade has dropped, then jumps up behind the second angel, sinking the blade right into his back. Dean has to shield his eyes, black now, from the blast but then he casts the body aside, bloodied weapon in his hand.

The angel holding Cas pales, like he's seen a ghost, though he doesn't budge, only moves around so that his own blade presses against Cas' chin.

Wrong move.

Dean zaps behind the pair. The crack the guy's bone make as it breaks when Dean bends his arm behind his back at an unnatural angle is music to Dean's ears. Cas stumbles free and Dean presses the blade in, just an inch to make the angel whimper in pain.

"Who're you working for?" he snarls, twisting the weapon just enough to draw a scream for the asshole.

"I could get my own blade, see how loud you can scream for me, huh? What do ya say?"

The angels starts trembling, his breath messed up as panic courses through his body.

"Metatron!" he gasps, which seems to bring Castiel back to reality.

"His reign is over."

"He shall rise again, Castiel, and when he does, he shall cleanse Heaven from the likes of you!"

"And that's enough," Dean decides, wielding the angel blade and dragging it across the man's throat, then tightening his grip again, glancing at Castiel who's watching with wide eyes.

"Well, come on, Cas, your grace ain't gonna recharge itself!"

Dean figures he'll kill that douchebag anyway; might as well help Cas out before he does. And okay, maybe he's trying to show Cas that he's not a complete monster, that there's still reason for Cas to stick around, even if Dean doesn't deserve it anymore. Hell, it's not like he ever deserved any of what Cas did.

It takes an eternity until Cas steps closer and resisting the urge to just slaughter the guy gets increasingly harder but then, finally, Cas is in front of them and breathes in.

Dean watches as the misty silver light leaves the body he's holding and he concentrates on Cas' true form, which erupts in such brightness that it blinds Dean for a moment.

Cas vessel downright glows; he looks stronger, too. With a grunt, Dean rams the angel blade into the guy's throat from the side, relishing the feeling of it, then pulls the weapon out, splattering blood. Some of it lands on his face and it's the most welcome sensation.

The angel falls to the ground and Castiel's eyes are still staring into his.

"Thank you."

"I'm not a monster," Dean blurts. It's easier around Cas, remembering his emotions, remembering his human side, which makes the entire experience even more painful.

"You have the potential."

"Cain said I could hold onto my human side."

"Do you want to?"

"What kinda question's that? Course I want to, Cas!"

"You might not have a choice! I can see your true form and you have become a demon, no one can deny that."

"Well, I'm still me in here," Dean insists. "Alright, so I like killing! And maybe all that feeling crap's harder now, but I can do this. I'm a hunter and that ain't gonna change."

Cas regards him intently, tilting his head in that familiar way of his. "What about Crowley? He is going to want you as his servant."

"Well, Crowley can shove that up his ass," Dean grumbles.

However, Cas has always been able to read him better than no one except Sam and he catches the note of insecurity and latches onto it like a damn dog with a bone.

"What happened?"

Rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh, Dean relates the story of them conjuring Crowley and the ultimatum Sam managed to get.

"So yeah, maybe we'll reach a compromise… But I won't be anyone's lapdog." He needs Cas to believe him because if Cas looses faith in him, what's left? Sam might pretend to be completely convinced, but Dean can tell he's worried too.

"You will have to prove you're sincere."

"Damn it, Cas," Dean snaps, and oh so done with this conversation. "Like I don't know what's gonna happen when I lose control?"

Emotions flicker across Castiel's face, too quick for Dean to name them, before his expression becomes bland, noncommittal.

"Then we have an understanding."

Dean nods curtly. He's angry and pissed off, so he zaps away, back to the bunker, before Cas can say another word.

Which means he isn't there anymore to see Castiel's face crumble and his eyes fill with worry and dread.

xXx

To say Sam is exhausted might be an understatement. All he wants is to sleep in a real bed for the rest of the day, but Dean is being an insistent jerk, clearly riled up from the fight and his conversation with Cas and eager to meet with Crowley. So Sam fixes the devil's trap and begins the ritual, even though they still have a while until the 48 hours are up.

When the King of Hell appears, he raises an expectant eyebrow at Dean and him.

"Listen," Dean tells him, "you won't get a lapdog out of this. I might not get around helping you a few times, but as far as everything else's concerned, I'm still a hunter."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

Dean obviously expected more of a fight and falters slightly. "So? We got a deal?"

Crowley glances at Sam, then back to his brother. "I'll allow you to remain on Earth as long as you follow my orders and execute them without detours."

Sam opens his mouth to object but the demon anticipates his objection and talks over him.

"Yes, moose, only killing those who deserve it, no wreaking havoc on innocent bystanders, yadda yadda, I get the gist. You hold up your end of the bargain, I hold up mine."

"Great. You wanna kiss on it?" Dean jokes, shifting from one foot to the other, still a bundle of restless energy after being awake for over two days straight.

Crowley merely smirks. "A mere thought would suffices and you're down in the pit. I have enough on you to make you dance to my tune."

Dean glares while Sam and Crowley share a look and Sam bends down to undo the devil's trap.

"I look forward to a great working relationship. I'll send over the fruit basket within the next few days along with your Welcome To Hell newsletter."

With that, Crowley's gone and Sam can't even tell anymore if he was joking or not.

He's too tired for this, an opinion his body apparently shares because he yawns impressively. A couple of hours in the Impala simply aren't cutting it anymore.

"Why don't you head to bed, Sammy?"

"What're you gonna do all day?"

Dean shrugs. "Go down to the range. Try out my new fighting skills. You know, that teleportation thing's really come in handy with those two angels."

Sam smiles weakly and heads towards his room. Just as he enters the room, Dean appears suddenly in front of him.

"Dean!"

"Forgot to tell you goodnight, Sammy," he smiles innocently.

Sam hangs his head but he can't help chuckling. Either it is the exhaustion or he is has lost his mind completely, but maybe having a demon brother won't be as bad after all.

It beats having no brother at all any day.

xXx

Castiel can't quite bring himself to return to Heaven just yet. His mind is too full, too many scenarios playing themselves out inside his head, to many possible outcomes, too many involving Dean giving in to the darkness inside –

"Darling, darling… One would think you'd drop the kicked puppy look now that your merry band of angels are back upstairs."

"Crowley," Castiel growls, turning towards the voice with a glare.

"Oh, someone's not happy to see me. Let me guess – you heard about my new employee of the month?"

Before Castiel can rein in his impulses, he charges at the demon and slams him into the wall, one arm pressed against his throat.

"You will not harm him."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Crowley smirks at him, not at all perturbed. "You have nothing to offer me, Castiel."

"We have reclaimed Heaven. It is only a matter of time before the Host is back to full power and we will crush you like the bug that you are."

Castiel is breathing fast, hardly hears anything over the blood rushing in his ears. And Crowley has the audacity to laugh in his face, so Castiel puts more weight behind his grip and crushes Crowley's windpipe a bit more.

"Keep going, Cas, you're making me all hot and bothered," the demon croaks and the reality of what he is doing finally catches up with Castiel. He pushes off but doesn't step back – he is not done with Crowley yet.

However, before he can put his next threat into words, Crowley cuts him off.

"Let me guess: I am not, under any circumstances, allowed to pull Dean into Hell, or you and your posse will get him out again? Him and what soul, Cas? Don't tell me you haven't seen his true form. Those skeletal features, really get my blood flowing, you know? Oh, and those horns!"

"I will save Dean. And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

His threats do nothing but rolls off of Crowley who laughs in his face. "Before or after your new bout of grace smokes out? No, no, Castiel. This round goes to me and guess what? It's the final round. Game over, darling. Your little human is gone and I can't wait to have him do my dirty work. The great Dean Winchester, the righteous man, killing in the name of Hell while his little angel with the broken wings watches from the sidelines, crying his heart out 'cause he can't do anything about it."

Castiel screams, blind with fury and hurt and all these terrible emotions, and lunges forward but the King of Hell has long since vanished, probably to the depths from where he came.

Every drop of energy drains from Castiel's body, leaving his shoulders slumped and his chest hallow. He tries to deny it, yet no arguments will stand. Crowley is right – he won. Castiel failed, failed after all he has done, after enduring death and purgatory, after learning what it means to be human.

Castiel wasn't lying when he told Sam he knows now that life it precious. Life is short. And Castiel had hopes – plans even. He swore to himself he would do something, in a moment of emotional despair during his three months spent as human. That if he won in the end, reclaimed Heaven, he would take a step he hadn't been brave enough to take before.

Now his hopes are in pieces, shattered by an ancient blade and drowning in the blackness of a cursed soul.

"I'd rather have you, cursed or not."

The memory floats to the surface of Castiel's mind every time he hears or even thinks that word, no matter the situation.

It doesn't serve to make him any less emotional, yet at the same time, he feels a pang of something else. Doubt. Doubt in his own decision.

Is he making a mistake thinking that all is lost? Thinking Dean can't be saved, even if the man himself still believes he stands a chance against the abyss?

Doesn't he owe it to Dean to give him the benefit of the doubt? Or is this his own selfish desire talking, unable to let go of the man who made him fall on so many different levels?

The more Castiel thinks on the issue, the dizzier his head becomes. His thoughts are a mess, circling around the same moments of the past few years again and again until he can't deny the fact that he won't be able to give up. His mind and what is left of his old angelic self might be telling him to let go given the state of Dean's soul, yet it can't override one simple truth.

Dean may be a demon. He will kill. But he is also the righteous man, earth's hero… and all that Castiel has in this world.

xXx

The same hooded man finds himself in another Buddhist temple, the cave in ruins underneath the ground, long given up by the monks.

Nothing out of the ordinary stands out as he traces the inscriptions and patterns on the walls, inspects the floor and the ceiling.

The man huffs and turns around, readying himself to fly off once more when his eyes land on a strange pattern on the wall.

Up close, it won't be noticed, but from afar he can discern the shape of a protective sigil, Enochian in origin.

The hooded figure raises an arm, causing the first layers of stone to crack and fall to the ground in a cloud of dust.

He approaches the alcove his actions have revealed and picks up something hidden inside.

The tabled, unreadable to every eye safe one, glows when he touches it, illuminating hazel eyes and a satisfied smirk.

Finally.

xXx

Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not
He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please
Don't take that sinner from me
Oh don't take that sinner from me

xXx

End Notes: Caves were actually a part of Buddhist architecture, dating back to 100 BCE, at least that's what my research told me. I hope I didn't completely misrepresent it!