A/N: I was trying to get a certain amount all in one chapter but it just got way too long so I am breaking it in two - here's the first half. I'm almost done the next chapter also so it should be posted very soon – hopefully tomorrow.

previously:

Dean took a deep breath and gave her a restrained smile. "Hey," he said simply in a throaty voice.

She gave a short laugh, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Hey," was all she said back, her hand still resting lightly on his chest.

CHAPTER 23

They stayed as they were for the span of a few breaths, though it felt like an eternity to Dean who was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Tasha eventually spoke first, letting her hand fall from his chest as she did so. Dean felt the loss of her touch as a chill he likened to the warmth of a bright day's sun suddenly disappearing behind a dark cloud.

"How?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before turning her head towards Sam. "How did you do it?" A look of alarm suddenly appeared on her face and she inhaled sharply. "Oh God, Sam. Tell me you didn't make another deal."

"No," Sam said quickly, not sure if he was flattered that everyone seemed to know he had been willing to trade places with Dean or guilt-ridden that all his attempts to save his brother had failed. "It wasn't me at all."

She turned back to Dean. "So how'd you get out?" she breathed.

Dean hesitated before answering, caught off guard. Tasha showing up like she did had thrown him. Not only had he not figured out just yet exactly what he was going to tell her about ... well, anything ... but he hadn't expected to be standing right next to her when the moment arose. Seeing her, hearing her, and holding her had turned his insides upside-down and completely thrown the plan of keeping his distance out the window.

"Angels," he finally blurted. For some reason the truth had always come shockingly easy with her and it would seem that even after forty years in Hell, that fact hadn't changed.

"Angels?" She gave him the classic 'huh?' look.

"Yeah," he confirmed, his grin widening. "A real life Angel of the Lord came down into Hell and yanked me topside."

He gave her a moment, watching her as the revelation soaked in. "Why?" was her next question.

Dean snorted. "That's something we'd all like to know. Apparently they have 'work for me'" he quoted Cas, "But they aren't big on sharing the details."

A slow, sly smile spread over her face. "Sooooo," she said deliberately, "God wanted you alive."

Dean snorted again and Sam chuckled. "That's exactly what it means," the younger Winchester chimed in. "God saw fit to save his ass."

Dean masked his discomfort at the implication of Sam's words by stepping towards the table again to retrieve his coffee. He wasn't anyone important, he wasn't special, he certainly didn't deserve to be saved. He also took the opportunity to sink into one of the motel room chairs in hopes of stopping himself from giving in to the incredible urge he was feeling to wrap his arms around the brunette again. He needed to get some space between them, far enough that he couldn't actually feel her presence, far enough that he could think clearly.

"Did you see the angel?" she pressed, clearly finding this fascinating.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but he's in a human vessel, as he calls it. Kinda like possessing someone only he says the guy was okay with it."

"You talked to it?"

"It?" Dean chuckled. "I'm pretty sure it's a him. And yep, we've spoken a few times. His name's Castiel."

She scooped the second coffee from the table and turned to hand it to Sam before sliding into the other chair, inching it closer to Dean as she did so. "Okay," she said, leaning forward, her eyes still filled with wonder as she fixed them again on the resurrected hunter. "Sam filled me in on the details of Lillith and your deal but please, you have to tell me everything you've found out since you got back. I wanna know what's going on."

Sam was shocked when his brother started talking because Dean did exactly as she asked and pretty much told her the whole story. It was almost as if the elder Winchester couldn't help himself, the words just tumbled out of his mouth. He told her the last thing he remembered was the Hellhounds and then waking up in a shallow grave in an Illinois field. He told her about tracking down Sam (thankfully leaving out the fact that Sam was with Ruby) and going to see Pamela Barnes. He adopted a tormented look of guilt when describing what had happened to the unfortunate psychic and Tasha looked like she was going to get up at one point to hug him but, to Sam's surprise, she stayed in her chair. Dean then explained his introduction to Cas and their subsequent dream-meeting in Bobby's kitchen, telling her of the sixty-six seals and Lillith's plan to free Lucifer from his cage.

Sam pitched in, filling in the occasional gap Dean missed and together they broke the news to her that the world was at war and if their side lost, if Lucifer rose, it meant the Apocalypse was at hand and humanity was basically screwed. She absorbed it all in heavy silence and Dean continued his explanation, telling her about his time back in 1973 and meeting his parents. He added some particulars that were missed in his last recount and Sam found himself listening in fascination as Dean answered Tasha's question of 'What was your mother like?' with more detail and open honesty than he had to Sam after their argument about the use of his new abilities. Once again Sam was relieved that Dean skipped the part where he had found Sam exorcizing demons with his mind. He already knew Tasha's reaction to that would be every bit as bad as Dean's and didn't want it to turn into a two-against-one argument.

Dean felt relieved to get it all off his chest. Hiding the truth of his deal and his impending death from Tasha before had been difficult and stressful so it felt good to tell her everything. Well, almost everything. He had left out the parts about Sam and his new telepathic demon-ganking abilities. Those were Sam's shameful secrets to tell. He trusted Tasha like he trusted Bobby and felt she deserved to know the reality of the situation. Besides, he figured she wouldn't have let it rest until she got the truth out of them anyway. They couldn't hide something this big. They couldn't hide the Apocalypse.

He finally reached the present day and the current case and Dean kept talking, filling her in on what they had found out so far. News reports stated three local deaths in the past week had been attributed to 'vehicular manslaughter' but the circumstances were very strange.

The first was a thirty-seven year old man who had been found in the middle of the local ice rink where he worked. He was said to have been alone and locking up for the night at the time of his death. Tire tracks had been found on the ice and the body.

The second was a twenty-five year old male found on the seventh floor of an apartment building under construction. He had been working late and men working a couple of floors below had heard an engine revving and tires squealing but had found nothing but the murdered man by the time they made it upstairs.

The third was a forty-four year old man found in a fenced and locked park, all padlocks on the gates left unopened and undamaged. Again, there were tire marks all around the body but none coming in or out of the park.

The Winchesters figured it for a pretty straightforward case of an angry spirit possessing his vehicle and going after people he had a grudge against during life. After all, they had seen it before in Cassie Robinson's hometown in Missouri, where a hateful spirit had possessed his old truck and started killing people by causing horrific car accidents.

"Sounds likely," Tasha nodded in agreement. "What's your next move?"

"Morgue," Sam said simply, getting up from where he had been sitting on the end of the bed to grab his suit jacket. "We need to know what type of vehicle was used so we can figure out who the spirit is."

"Then we'll interview the families," Dean added, rising to his feet also. "See if we can get any leads on who had a grudge against these guys. Should have this wrapped by tonight."

Tasha stood with them. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?" she asked.

Sam smiled at her. "It's gonna look kinda funny with three feds showing up to look at some bodies," he pointed out. "You've been driving all night. You sure you don't want to catch a few Zz's while we do the morgue run?"

Tasha laughed. "Are you kidding? My heart's still racing so fast I couldn't sleep right now if I'd been up for a week," she said with a pointed glance at Dean. "Best damn day of my life by a mile. I'll just stay in the car."

The brothers didn't argue and donned the Fed suits before they all went outside. Tasha locked the door to her red Fiero which was parked next to the Impala before heading to the back door of the Chevy and pausing, waiting for Sam to reach round and unlock it for her.

"Please tell me that's not your car!" Dean jeered, curling a teasing lip up at the pint size sports car that was being dwarfed by his classic beauty. "Why would you even waste your time stealing that thing?"

"Hey, I didn't steal it," Tasha defended. "I won it in a knife throwing game against some red-neck in Kentucky. It's legally mine, registered and everything," she beamed. "Well, registered under a fake ID, but apart from that, it's completely legal."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't even have a back seat," he scoffed.

Sam chuckled as Tasha raised a sly eyebrow. "Anything that can be done in a back seat can be done just as well in the front," she grinned cheekily. She was clearly referring to some specific x-rated memory she and Dean shared that Sam decided he really didn't want to know about since it had probably taken place in the Impala on the front seat where he spent most of his days.

He chuckled and glanced over at Dean, whose smile tightened with discomfort at the mention of the intimacy he and Tasha had previously shared. The elder Winchester tried to hide his slip but Sam saw the brief flicker of hurt that sprang to the girl's eyes when she noticed it also.

"So Tasha," Sam addressed her, changing the subject as he unlocked the back door for her to get in. "What name are you going by now?"

"Uh, still with Natasha Dunn," she answered distractedly, sliding into the spacious rear seat. "I've been laying pretty low recently so I haven't managed to get her in much trouble yet."

As they were pulling out of the motel parking lot, Tasha leaned forward to put her chin on the seat between the brothers. "So how long did it take you to rip out the iPod jack Sam installed?" she asked Dean with a grin.

Dean chuckled but it was Sam who answered. "Try all of ten seconds," he complained with a noisy huff.

Dean rolled his eyes. "This car's a classic, Sam," he argued. "Not some cheap hooker you can dress up with techno-crap." He cut off Sam's rebuttal by pushing in the AC/DC tape and turning the volume up. That was Dean's usual method of avoiding conversation, a hint not missed by the two other occupants of the car so the rest of the drive was virtually talk-free.

Luckily, it was a quick trip to the county morgue. Tasha stayed in the car as agreed while the brothers went inside as Special Agents Plant and Page of the FBI. After getting the desired response when they flipped their badges at the receptionist, they were led to the autopsy room to wait for the Medical Examiner to come back from his lunch break and discuss his findings with them. Sam could tell Dean was agitated and confronted him about the suspected reason.

"So, dude, what are you gonna do about Tasha?"

"What do you mean?"

Sam huffed. "You know what I mean. She's here now. You can't just send her away."

"I have to."

"Dean, that's not fair. You saw her when she realized it was really you. She's not gonna just leave without a reason."

"Her staying alive is a reason." Dean was well aware he was simply arguing on autopilot. He had no idea what he wanted or what he was going to say to Tasha to get her to leave or even if he was going to get her to leave. His head and his heart were pulling him in two different directions while his wants and his guilt were playing a serious game of tug-of-war with each other.

"I don't think that's fair," Sam repeated, pressing the issue. "I think we should let her stick around."

Sam's reasoning was two-fold. He loved his brother and it was painful to watch Dean so close to his emotional breaking point like he had been since his return and Sam honestly hoped Tasha could help with that. But having Dean back was also interfering with Sam's plans to go after Lillith. Tasha's presence would hopefully provide a distraction for Dean as well, leaving Sam with a little more freedom to do what he needed to do without his brother's suspicious eyes watching him twenty-four seven. Slipping out to meet Ruby was getting difficult, especially with Dean's violent nightmares waking him up at all inconvenient hours of the night. Dean had awoken to find Sam gone more than once in the two weeks he'd been back and the excuse of 'I was hungry' was no longer being accepted thanks to Castiel's meddling.

"I like having her around," he added, hoping to deflect suspicion from his less noble reason for wanting the brunette to stay. "I mean, she's great. She's fun and she's smart and a good hunter and we could use the help right now."

Dean raised a teasing eyebrow at his brother. "You got a thing for her now, Sammy? What, were you two gettin' cozy while I was downstairs?" he kidded, trying to joke his way out of the argument and having to make a decision. "Keeping the sheets warm for me, were ya?"

"What? No!" Sam denied, looking away quickly. Too quickly. "Don't be a jerk," he accused, a little flustered at Dean's joking remarks.

Dean's smile suddenly froze as he watched his brother's reaction – the little brother that he had always been able to read like an open book. "Sam?" he said simply, all traces levity gone.

Sam swallowed. Shit, he could usually lie better than that. "What?" he squeaked, failing miserably at sounding casual.

"Oh. My. God. You slept with Tash."

"No, Dean, I didn't … I never …" Sam sighed in defeat. "Fuck."

Dean raised a hand to stop Sam from talking, his mind reeling as he put two and two together. He walked a few paces away from his brother, rolling his shoulders in an effort to control his reaction, his head cocked stiffly to the side in obvious anger.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Sam because he was holding his breath in fear and cursing his stupidity for letting that secret slip and Dean because he just plain didn't know what to say. He couldn't decide between hurt, anger, or betrayal.

"Well, now I see why you were in such a rush to see her again," he finally seethed.

"No, it's not like that," Sam defended meekly.

Dean clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Well, I guess I did ask you to take care of her after I was gone," he snapped, now pacing angrily in front of the cadaver drawers of the autopsy room. "You sure as Hell did that."

"Look, it just sorta happened."

"Oh, so now you're using the old tripped and fell excuse!"

"No!" Sam raised his voice in frustration. "Dean, you were dead! You weren't coming back! I tried everything and you weren't coming back."

"So what, you figured you'd go through my stuff and see if there was anything you wanted to keep for yourself? Oh, look, a hot chick! I'll try that on for size." Dean didn't even attempt to restrain his sarcasm.

"For starters, she's not one of your belongings," Sam argued back more heatedly. "It only happened once and, I repeat, you were dead."

Dean held his tongue as he continued pacing, breathing slow and controlled breaths until he could think past the wild thumping of his heart. He cursed himself for being so shocked by this revelation, for letting himself be blindsided. Sam was right, he had been dead. Had he really expected Tasha to pine over him forever and never be with another guy? Especially when he had ended things with her weeks before the Hellhounds had come for him. As for Sam, could he really blame him? Tasha was intoxicating to be around; Dean knew that first hand. Could he really have expected his brother to spend any amount of time with her alone and not want to rip her clothes off like he himself had done the first night they'd met? Sam was a guy, after all, not a saint – a fact that had become abundantly clear a few days ago when he had found the kid throwing his mojo at a goddamn demon. And to be fair, Dean had been dead.

Then why the Hell did the thought of the two of them together still hurt this much? Why was his heart twisting in pain inside his chest? Why was he finding it so hard to breathe past the constriction in his throat? Why couldn't they have found other people to seek comfort with - why did it have to be each other? He was jarred out of his train of thought when he realized Sam was still talking.

"It was in Illinois when we thought we had that lead on a way to save you," the younger Winchester was explaining, a hint of desperation in his voice. "But it didn't work and we were upset and we had a lot to drink and then..."

Dean raised his hand sharply. "Please spare me the gory details of the part where you had sex with my ... girl!" He hesitated to use the word girlfriend. He had never used that word and it sounded strange rolling off his tongue. A girlfriend was something men with nine to five jobs got. Normal men. Decent men. Men who actually deserved to be loved.

At that moment the elderly ME walked in, his uncomfortable expression making it clear he had heard Dean's last statement. Sam took immediate advantage of the interruption.

"Hi, Doctor Gerhart," he greeted him hurriedly, clearing his throat loudly. "We're here to see the three recent murder victims from the vehicular manslaughter cases."

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Besides a number of dirty looks from the medical examiner who clearly disapproved of an FBI agent who would sleep with his partner's woman, Sam was only able to gather one new piece of information pertaining to the current hunt. Dean had remained silent throughout the entire exchange and was now walking stiffly back to the car a few paces in front of Sam.

"Find out anything interesting?" Tasha greeted them as they climbed back in. Dean couldn't help but snort and avoided eye contact with either of them as he turned the Impala's key and she rumbled to life. He was keeping quiet to avoid saying something he regretted, keeping quiet in case the hurt showed through whatever emotion he attempted to cover it with.

"Uh, yeah," Sam filled her in quickly, wincing at her unfortunate choice of words. "Turns out it wasn't a car but a motorcycle that ran down our three victims. The same one, by the looks of it. The tire marks were identified as a 240-series tire model used for the rear tire on low-riders.

"So we look for local bikers who've died?"

"Yeah. That and we should still interview the families, see if we can narrow it down some." Sam was making a valiant effort to act as if nothing was wrong and ignore his tense brother brooding silently behind the wheel.

"Okay, who's first?" Tasha asked, her question directed at Sam. She had clearly spent enough time traveling with the brothers to know the younger of the two was the one who usually had the particulars, names and addresses, all listed neatly in his notepad.

"Let's start with the business partner of the last guy to be killed," Sam continued. "He wasn't married but was part-owner of a bar on the edge of town." Receiving a curt nod from Dean, Sam pulled out his laptop and Google-mapped directions. The elder Winchester drove well in excess of the speed limit and got them there in about five minutes flat.

The place was called 'Grimes Bar' and looked pretty seedy. A line of polished Harley's and low-rider choppers were parked out front despite the afternoon sun not yet having reached its twelve o'clock peak.

"You stay here, Tash," Dean instructed, not waiting for an answer as he stepped quickly out of the car. Sam gave her an apologetic look but was relieved to see she didn't argue and made no move to follow them up the wooden front porch steps.

Dean stepped boldly through the front door, unfazed by the silence that fell over the room as he entered. Sam quickly stepped up to his brother's side, hoping his imposing figure would have some effect on the cold reception they were receiving from the numerous tough-looking bikers lounging in the smoky room. Sam couldn't help but think the suits and the G-man gig had been the wrong way to go for this interview.

A particularly large man approached them quickly, shoulders squared and chest puffed offensively.

"You boys lost?" he boomed in a deep voice, his words laced with threat.

Dean jerked his chin at him, not backing down in the least. "Lookin' for Rory Grimes," he said simply.

The man snorted, turning to laugh to the men behind him who were all glaring at the brothers. A chorus of mocking laughter sounded as the large man turned back to the Winchesters. "You lawyers?" he jeered. "Or Popo?"

Dean and Sam simultaneously flashed their fake badges. The man squinted as he leaned forward to read them.

"Agent Robert Plant?" he scoffed. "And Agent James Page?" Another chorus of laughter. In hindsight, Led Zeppelin probably wasn't the way to go with believable aliases with this crowd.

"That's Special Agent Plant, Chuckles," Dean retorted impatiently. "Why don't you just tell Grimes we need to speak to him about his deceased business partner."

"Roar don't talk to pigs," the man replied. "Even fake ones. Get the fuck out of here."

Dean wasn't in the mood to back down. "Well why don't you tell 'Roar' that unless he wants to end up like his three buddies with Michelin marks on his face he should…" he cut off as the man stepped forward into his personal space, his huge barrel chest butting up against Dean's.

"Woah, okay," Sam said quickly, shoving his hand between the two and glancing warily around at a few of the men that were getting to their feet. "We're leaving. Just trying to help."

"We take care of our own problems," was the snarled reply.

"Well, call us if you notice anything ... strange or if you need any answers," Sam said quickly, his fist wrapping in Dean's jacket sleeve and his other hand holding out a fake FBI card with his spare cell number on it. Hopefully these tough guys would realize soon enough that tattoos and bravado wouldn't stop a spirit rider out for blood.

He practically manhandled Dean out the door, huffing his annoyance in his brother's ear.

"Nice going Dean," he seethed as they made their way back to the car. Dean rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Sam was right; his pissy attitude had ruined whatever slim chance they had of finding anything out from those guys.

They kicked up a cloud of dirt and rocks as Dean roared out of the gravel parking lot.

"That was a bust," Sam announced, not hiding his snippy tone.

"So where to next?" Tasha asked, her wary look telling Sam she could tell asking what happened wouldn't be a good idea.

"I'll check out the local list of motorcycle deaths," Dean interjected brusquely. "You two go see the widows of the ice rink dude and the construction worker." His tone of voice didn't really leave much room for discussion and Sam quickly agreed in hopes of keeping the peace. Tasha didn't say a word but Sam didn't miss the confused look that passed over her face at Dean's abruptness. Dean pulled into the motel and got out quickly, leaving the car running as he grabbed Sam's laptop and headed into the room. Sam got into the driver's seat and pulled the Impala back out onto the road while Tasha climbed over the seat into the front.

"Is he okay?" she asked once they were out of sight of the motel.

Sam sighed, settling into the leather seat. "I don't know."

"Is he different?" she pressed. "After Hell, I mean. Does he really not remember anything?"

"He says he doesn't," Sam answered with a roll of his shoulders. "But…"

"You don't believe him?"

"He has these nightmares," Sam elaborated. "Like really bad ones. I think maybe he remembers something, subconsciously even."

Tasha's eyes closed for a second, reopening filled with sorrow as she took a long, deep breath and tipped her head back to rest against the seatback. "What do you think he's thinking?" she asked quietly. "About me." She rolled her head towards the hunter. "For a minute it was as if we'd never been apart but then he seemed kinda awkward and now he just seems angry."

Sam winced. "He knows about us. He found out while we were at the morgue."

"Shit," Tasha groaned. "Sam, I know we had to tell him but I was kinda hoping it could wait a while. Why now?"

"Hey, I didn't plan on telling him at all. He figured it out."

"I suppose he could always read you like a book," she sighed. "Is he mad or is he hurt?"

"Bit of both, I think," Sam answered truthfully. "But don't worry, it's directed more at me."

"Is he gonna tell me to leave?" she looked pleadingly at Sam, fear and sadness practically spilling out of her soft, brown eyes. "I just got him back," she breathed, not waiting for him to answer. "I don't want to leave. Shit Sam, it's all I can do not to throw my arms around him and never let go."

"Just give him time," Sam assured her. "He's been through a lot."

"Hmph. Understatement much," she smiled though with very little mirth. "You know, I've only been near him for three hours and already I can't imagine being without him again."

"What is it about him?" Sam asked curiously, surprised at how relaxed he was with Tasha. He had thought maybe things would be awkward but apparently that was only when Dean was around. "You've always made a point to never get attached to people. What made my brother so different?"

"What's different about Dean?" she quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's a loaded question." Her gaze drifted out the passenger window at the scenery scrolling by. "He just seemed to get me, I guess," she said softly after a long pause. "He doesn't judge me like civilians do but he doesn't pity me like most hunters do and … there's just something about him. It almost seemed like he needed me," she threw a quick glance back at Sam. "That sounds strange, I know, because Dean's the most self-reliant guy on the planet but I've never had anyone need me before."

"He needs you now," Sam told her.

She snorted. "I get the feeling he's about an inch away from sending me packing." She inhaled deeply. "I'm not gonna let him push me away," she said decisively. "He'll think he's doing me this big favor but he's not. I don't want to be alone again and I'm not gonna get over him or move on." She rubbed her hand down over her face. "I'll give him some space but I'm not leaving."

"Good," Sam nodded in amused agreement. Tasha was stubborn, maybe even as stubborn as his pig-headed self-loathing brother. At the very least, this would be an interesting battle of wills to watch if Dean tried to make good on his threat to part ways with the feisty brunette again.

It took some time, but they tracked down both widows and obtained some useful information. Most significantly, both victims had been jumpy and on edge for a couple of days before they died. The wife of the younger man who had been killed at the construction site told them her husband had seen a riderless bike driving down the road a couple of nights prior to his death. He had refused to say much else about it but had been spending all of his free time at the bar with his friends since then. The hunters asked if the deceased men were bikers themselves and were informed that both belonged to a local biker gang by the name Bastardos Manchados, or Tainted Bastards, the members of which apparently hung out at Grimes Bar.

The pieces were starting to fit together.

The third victim, the one who had died in the park, was the co-owner of the bar and Vice-President of the bike Club. Both widows had admitted they believed his business partner, Rory 'Roar' Grimes, also the Club President and the man the Winchesters had been unable to get face time with earlier at the bar, most likely knew exactly what was going on and who had killed their husbands. They also insisted the local police were doing squat about it. Neither woman seemed fond of the local cops despite being surprisingly civil to Federal Agents Page and Cornell, especially the tall, broad-shouldered Agent Page.

They thanked the second widow politely and left. Agreeing that Dean would undoubtedly be hungry, since he was always hungry, they picked up fast food on the way back to the motel.

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A/N: Okay, not totally happy with this chap but had to move the hunt along to get to the good stuff. Hopefully you enjoyed it and found Dean's reaction to the news believable. Reviews to let me know what you thought would be great! I totally love you guys :)