A/N: Thanks to Anne1013 and JazzyIrish, you girls rock my socks! - Anne: No dreams after this one, 'kay? and JazzyIrish: I'll give the boys a break next chapter. Promise! *cross fingers and toes behind my back*

Fallen Down Angels

It's all in the way we know that we could have it all
Some satellites of pain can't always be ignored
It's all in the face of what we thought we knew before
War on all sides

~~HoC~~

Sometimes, he measured his life by doors. The ones to be listened at, the ones whose locks had to be picked quietly, softly-softly. The ones that had to be kicked down, and the ones that were never, ever to be opened.

A door had never felt so thick. Sam leaned into it, pressing his head against the flaking paint and he felt the faint vibration as the lock clicked home. He heard one quiet scuff of his brother's shoes on the walkway outside, then there was nothing.

He sighed, closed his eyes, saw the Hellhound come surging over the car and opened them again, wide as he could.

"He's gonna be okay, isn't he?"

The hunter started a little at the question, one hand rolling into a fist against the door, the other dropping halfway to the gun snug against the small of his back before he stopped it.

"Yeah," he uttered roughly, heard it rasp and tried again, half-turning to see the boy from one eye. "Yeah, he's going to be fine."

He almost smiled at the sight of Dean's hip-flask still clutched in Tommy's hand but he ached everywhere, weeks of exhaustion and adrenaline dragging like lead weights on every muscle.

"Why did he go out there?"

"To look for anyone else like us."

It came out before his tired mind could think to censor it and he winced as the boy paled.

"He's gonna find them, isn't he? They're still out there, my mom and Dad, and Petey's?"

Biting his lip, Sam turned the rest of the way and slid down the door, wondering what it had done to a Dean no older than the boy in front of him the day Sam had asked what had happened to their mother. Where did she go, Dean? Why did she leave us?

"He's going to try, Tommy. He'll try his best."

She didn't want to, Sammy. Something took her, something bad. Dad's going to find it, and he's going to punish it for taking her.

"What if he doesn't?"

What if it takes him too?

Dean had smiled then, feral and too bright and for the first time in his young life, an eight year old boy had learned there was something to be scared of in his brother.

It won't take him, Sammy. Nothing can take him, because we're here to help him.

He didn't have a lie to give to the child looking at him, wide-eyed with fright, the terror of being left behind shockingly adult in his gaze.

"I don't know, kiddo."

Tommy stared at him for a moment, chin trembling before he turned and ran back to the corner where Kate rocked the toddler against her chest, watching them. Sam looked at her as she gathered the boy to her, wrapping one arm around his head as he buried his face in her stomach and sobbed quietly.

Once upon a time he'd felt guilty for every bit of innocence they burned. Now he just felt sad and tired. Trying to stop the apocalypse and save his brother didn't leave much room for guilt.

He tipped his head back against the wall, let his eyelids grow heavy, drop until he watched the room through his lashes. In the corner of his vision, the light shifted against the window and he wondered if it was wind or something else that made the shadows dance. Restless, exhausted, his fingers tapped on one knee, the fast irregular beat seeping in under his skin as his back curled into a slouch.

Kate looked up at him, the infant cradled in her arms sleeping, one arm dangling limply. Sam swallowed hard, looked away, remembering the weight of his brother's corpse in his arms, slick with cold, sticky blood as he'd carried Dean through New Harmony, past the shell-shocked residents who just watched them pass, the bitter, rotten-egg smell of departing demons hanging thick in the air. One arm had slipped out of his grasp, rigor already tightening his brother's hand into a clawed fist that thumped against his knee with every other step.

Shoving roughly away from the wall, he surged to his feet, barely hearing Kate's surprised yelp from the corner as he paced to the table, yanked the laptop open and stabbed a trembling finger at the power button. The machine hummed quietly, faint vibrations shivering through the contact, cold light flickering over his hand.

"Sam?"

The hunter tilted his head to the side, didn't look up as the screen cleared, loaded icons. He frowned as the screen stuttered once, flickered and steadied again.

EMF? Interfering somehow?

The frown carved itself deeper into his face as he tried to open a connection with the 'net, Connection Failed blinking at him.

"Damn."

"Sam, what is it?"

"They've cut us off." He looked up, pushed away from the table and strode to the window, peering out and up at the cables strung across the street. Three blocks down, he saw what he was looking for; a junction box. It was crushed, squashed, half the casing flung in a scorched, crumpled heap to the other side of the street. He turned, looked the other way.

"Dammit. They cut the whole town off. Must've done it before they attacked, to stop anyone getting word out."

Sam frowned. It didn't feel right. He didn't remember the demons destroying any junction boxes in River Grove.

Maybe we just didn't see any?

He shook his head slowly, shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling of unease prickling along his spine.

None of this feels right.

It felt like the world shifted, dropped into new alignment with the realization

He stilled, looked out at nothing as his mind raced. They'd assumed the Hellhounds and demons had followed them, tracked them down somehow.

"No such thing as coincidence," he whispered. Maybe there is. What if they aren't here for us?

Turning, the world tilted for a moment, dregs of sleep and adrenaline battling with his equilibrium before he blinked, hard and slow, squeezing his eyes shut until the dark blossomed with black stars. TA quiet hiccup from across the room startled him and his head snapped up, focused unerringly on the far corner where Kate was gathering Petey into her arms, bouncing him gently, cooing in his ear.

"He needs changing," she muttered to him and he raked a hand through his hair.

"We don't have anything for... that."

Sam grimaced a little as the child's soft cries turned louder, more strident and he licked dry lips as he pushed away from the wall, crossed the room.

"Can't you, you know. Wash him, or something?"

Kate stared at him.

"You don't know a thing about babies, do you?"

He felt his cheeks warm and shrugged helplessly. Kate huffed, bounced the boy higher and shuffled back and forth.

"My cousin had a kid, used to leave him with mom when she went to college. Do you have like a, an old towel or something? One you don't want back?"

"I, yeah. Hang on."

Halfway to his bag, Sam paused, wondered at the sudden shift in the woman behind him. She seemed more confidant, more at ease than she had done since they'd found her in the old office. Dragging a threadbare towel out of his brother's bag, he turned back, held it up.

"This do?"

She nodded, snatched it out of his hand and marched into the bathroom.

"Kate," Sam called and she stopped in her tracks, glanced back over her shoulder as he pushed to his feet and took a few steps closer. "Leave the door open, okay?"

"I was going to wash up when I'm done with him," she protested and Sam shook his head.

"Just an inch, but leave it open."

He didn't leave an inch for argument, just looked down at the table by his side and tried not to remember how it felt to be on the other end of the same tactic.

I gave Dad hell for this, he thought ruefully, wincing as Kate growled under her breath, "This is some weird dream, Christ, a few hours ago I was trying to decide what color to dye my hair and now I'm changing diapers and hiding out from... fuck, from really freaky fucking devil dogs in two strange guys' motel room? Jesus, Mom'd..."

The angry whisper of her tirade stopped suddenly and Sam winced at the muffled sob that filled the quiet.

He looked up, walked slowly to the open door and leaned against the frame, watching her as she lifted the child's feet, wiping him clean with shaking hands.

"If it's worth anything, I'm sorry, Kate. I wish you'd never had to find out all this."

She didn't look up at him, focused so intently on tying the old towel into a makeshift diaper he wondered if she knew he was there at all and finally he forced a shrug, rolled away. Stopped short as he found Tommy staring hard at him, eyes rimmed with red, cheeks stained with tears as his hands worked feverishly around the silver flask.

"It's not," Kate murmured behind him. He looked back, saw the silver on her cheek. "I mean, it shouldn't be worth anything. My life, god. It's turned inside out. I never wanted to believe. You know? Ghosts, monsters, the truth is out there, I couldn't care less but now I find out it's all real and it's all out to get me? And it..." she broke off, pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as her shoulders hitched once. "My mom and dad are d-dead, the whole damn town is dead and it shouldn't mean anything that you're fucking sorry."

Petey hiccuped again, fists balled tight as he wriggled and Sam could almost watch the calm she pulled around her self, forcing it into a thin veneer as she finished tying the towel off.

"I know," he murmured. "But I still am," and he turned away, walked back to the table, dropping wearily into the chair and casting a brief, longing glance at the bed.

"But it does mean something," Kate sighed behind him, reluctantly and he wondered if it would be easier for her to hate them, if it would help her find the will to fight. He nodded silently, waited for her stare to leave the back of his neck and listened as she carried Petey back to the corner.

Sighing, he gazed down at the papers, shifted into a different pattern by his brother's hand.

"If they're not here for us," he mumbled to himself, trying to find his train of thought. "Then what are they here for?"

He dropped into the chair, reaching out absently for the laptop, the back of his neck itching as if ants crawled over his skin. He felt the hairs on his arm lift, stand on end, snatched his hand back but a fat spark leaped from the casing around the screen to his fingers, the zhhht it made loud in the quiet.

"Crap!"

He jumped back, the chair toppling over behind him, shaking his fingers out as they tingled and stung harshly. The laptop buzzed loudly, whining until the screen winked out with a pop.

Sam rubbed at his arm, ozone bright on his tongue as he took a careful step back, held out a hand to stop Kate as she leaned towards the table.

"What is that? What's going on, Sam?"

"I don't know. Just… stay back a minute. Okay?"

Biting his lip, the hunter reached out tentatively, stretching as far as he could to slap the laptop closed. A thin trail of smoke drifted up from the edges of the casing and he sniffed at the acrid tang of scorched plastic.

"Damn."

"Is it…"

"It's fried. Hell."

He let his gaze trail over the books spread across the table and for the first time in months the sight of them didn't stir something cold and hard inside him. He'd never given them back to Bobby, somehow in the middle of all the chaos that seemed to have infected their lives, it was just one more thing on the list of 'stuff to do' – and it kept on getting shoved to the bottom.

Now, he was glad. Sinking into the chair again, he leaned over, dug a notebook from the bag leaning against the table leg and drew the books closer.

"Can you… do you know what's happening?"

Sam shook his head slowly.

"Sorry. But we'll figure it out. We will."

Tommy crept up behind Kate, peered around her legs at the hunter.

"How?"

Sam looked down at the flask still clutched in one small fist, and wondered how Dean had ever managed to shield him from the truth for so long. Sometimes it seemed like the world came knocking on their door, trouble finding them no matter how hard they ran.

"Like I said. It's what we do."

He sat on the floor, back to the wall, gaze flickering from Tommy to the door to Kate and Petey to the window to his own hands scribbling notes on the pages and back to the beginning to start the cycle again. Disjointed doodles filled the notebook, random thought processes, trying to shake loose the feeling that something was wrong. Devil's traps sprawled across the lines, protective circles mixed with incantations, Latin and pig Latin, Aramaic and Enochian chants jumbled together with places and people, things from his past.

Over and over, two words followed a few lines later by a third, always together, twisting through the mess like players in a dance.

River Grove

Croatoan

His pen slowed as he traced the word again. It feels the same, he realized, recognized it with a jolt. The same feeling of emptiness in the streets, the same eerie hush lurking beneath the cries of the hounds.

They shut the town off so they could wipe it out. Completely. He's not going to find anyone.

Sam looked over at Kate where she sat in the opposite corner, watching the window with a fixed, determined terror. Cuddled into a nest she'd made of cushions and blankets, the children slept, exhausted.

Rolling to his feet, the hunter leaned against the wall as his head spun for a moment, a rush of vertigo making his vision blur.

"Sam?"

He smiled over at Kate.

"I'm fine. Stood up too fast. You guys want to eat?"

She nodded, turned to the pile of cushions and started waking the boys. Sam pushed away from the wall, wavered for a moment before he caught his balance and walked to the counter along one wall.

Rummaging through the cupboard, he tossed Tommy a pack of M&M's from his brother's stash, grinned as the child yawned and ripped the bag open. Pulling out the loaf of stale bread and jar of jelly he'd picked up on their way to the motel the night before, he started making sandwiches, all too aware of Kate watching him as he piled them on a plate.

Slowly, she came to stand beside him, hands knotted into a tangle in front of her.

"You want coffee?"

She nodded, and he titled his head at the cupboard.

"Powder's in there."

By the time she'd poured them both coffee and made juice for the boys, some of the tension had left her face, taut lines relaxing, softening her features. They sat side by side on the edge of Dean's bed, the boys munching sandwiches on Sam's, the shadowy room filled with normalcy.

Sam chuckled quietly.

"What?"

"Somehow, it's always my bed that ends up as a table."

She smiled, sipped from the mug, steam wreathing her head.

"How you holding up?"

He copied her, trying to make the question less important than it was. Kate shrugged, smile twisting bitterly.

"How am I holding up? Christ. I've just found out that half the stuff I've seen in horror movies is real. I've got nothing left but the clothes I was wearing last night, and I've only got those because I was too lazy to put them away. I'm stuck in here with two kids and a guy I don't know from Adam."

Sam stared into his mug.

"That good, huh?"

She laughed humorlessly.

"We'll figure this out, Kate."

"That's what you told Tommy, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I meant it. We will."

"And what happens when you do? Where do we go?"

He couldn't answer her, couldn't tell her everything she knew was over. She sighed as he stood, moved stiffly to the counter and dumped the rest of his coffee into the drain, the brew suddenly acid in his stomach.

Rolling his shoulders, he lifted one hand to massage the knots at the base of his neck, resisted the urge to look at his watch. A shiver crept down his back, trembled along his arms and into his fingers and he froze, listened for a moment.

Heard nothing but silence but suddenly he wanted the weight of a gun in his hand. He turned to the table, snatched his Taurus from beneath the drifts of paper and hefted it once, something taut and twanging along his nerves easing.

Walking over to slouch against the wall, he peeked through the curtain at the empty street, caught a distant glimpse of a shadow ducking around the corner of a building and wondered if it was his brother.

Turning back, he saw Kate cajoling a reluctant Tommy off the bed, plates in hand, ushering him towards the sink. She shot him a look he couldn't read, equal parts fear and anger, looked away again and he slid down the wall a little, let his knees relax into a crouch for a moment before he felt it coming, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end again.

Sam spun to his feet, the grip of the gun warm against his palm as he brought it up, easing a quick two steps back to stand between Kate and the boys and the rest of the room.

The static crawled along his skin, snapping against his nerves and setting his teeth on edge and he pressed back further, cramming the others into one corner, trying not to hear Petey whimpering.

The toddler settled, stilled a fraction of a heartbeat before the charged air shifted, beat against him, driving dust into his eyes. He blinked quickly, vision blurring, the room strobing in and out of view and between one blink and the next the empty space was filled.

"Cas?"

The angel stood facing the window, shoulder's bowed, chin jutting forward stubbornly and Sam recognized the expression suddenly, realized how much it looked like his brother's.

The angel turned a little, still staring at the curtains as the shadows moved relentlessly across them.

"Sam."

The hunter sighed, let his arms drop, the gun suddenly heavy as lead.

"Thank God you're here."

Silhouetted against the window, Sam couldn't make out Castiel's face, had to settle for watching the way his shoulders tightened under the trench coat.

"What is it?"

The angel didn't answer, just stepped closer to the wall, ducking to peer around the edge of the curtain. Sam's gaze flickered to the door, to the weapons bag on his bed and back to the other man.

"What's going on?"

He took a long stride, reaching out with one hand, the gun in his other lifting a little to point towards the door. Before his fingers could touch the tan canvas, Castiel moved, a quick pace away that seemed wrong, subtly inhuman.

"Cas!"

Unease skittered up his spine, crawled under his skin at the angel's avoidance and he shot another look at the door.

"You should not be here."

His head snapped back to the other man.

"I know. This whole thing's nothing to do with us, is it? It's just coincidence that we're here."

Castiel walked slowly to the table, stirring the papers and books with one hand, tracing the edge of the still-smoking laptop.

"It is coincidence."

"But we can stop it, right? Whatever they're doing, we can stop them."

On the far side of the table the angel paused, stared down at an inverted sigil on the topmost page.

"Cas? Is this another seal? We have to stop it."

Sam moved closer, frowning, fingers shifting around the grip of his pistol. He stopped as Castiel looked up at him, dark eyes snapping with fury.

"It is a seal."

Something like disgust crept in around the anger in the angel's stare as it raked over him, took in Kate and the boys huddled in the corner.

"But you cannot stop it."

Sam turned, some instinct he couldn't name telling him to make himself as small a target as possible. Something about the angel was wrong, different, a razor-edge to his tone, a chill in his gaze that jarred against the softly-spoken, intense man he thought he knew.

"Why not?"

He didn't even see the papers shift on the table before he ducked, threw an arm up in front of his face as they twitched and flew up, twisting through the air to batter at his head.

"What the hell?"

Stumbling back, he sucked in air, pulled the gun up, not even sure what he was aiming at. Behind him, he heard Kate gasp and Tommy cry out, a thin wail that was cut off with a heavy thud. It brought him up short, planting his feet against the wind still pelting him with papers, tucking his chin down as he narrowed his eyes to glare at the angel.

"Sam?"

He blinked, darted a glance at the door still rebounding from the wall and his brother, silhouetted in the frame, gaping at the scene in the room. Twisting, he looked back over his shoulder; saw Tommy pressed into the corner, eyes wide, Kate's hand clamped over his mouth.

Turning back to the angel, standing calmly on the other side of the table, hands folded behind his back Sam swallowed, found himself wondering if it was really Castiel inside the host at all.

"What's going on?"

"Ask him," he answered, faintly aware of Dean shutting the door behind him more quietly than he'd opened it and putting his back to it.

"Cas?"

His brother sounded concerned more than anything else. The angel looked at him.

"I am here to warn you."

"Hellhounds, whole town…disappearing," Dean flicked a gaze at him as he hesitated and in the middle of the edgy fear tickling at his nerves, Sam felt his stomach drop an inch. "Yeah, we already got that memo."

"My brothers will deal with the demons. This seal must be saved. I am not here to warn you of that."

"Then what the hell, Cas?"

Dean stepped forward and Sam eased to the side, keeping space between them, his gun still trained on the angel. The older hunter waved a hand at him to lower it, frowned at him when he shook his head and Sam met his eyes for a moment, some quiet voice in the back of his head noting a raw, painful looking scrape on his brother's palm. Dean watched him, brows quirked into a silent question. Sam shook his head quickly, looking back over his brother's shoulder at the angel. The older man let it go with a sigh, but he moved away from Sam and the hunter wanted to laugh with relief as he saw Dean lift one hand to the pistol tucked into his jeans.

"I am here to warn you against the path you are on."

Dean stopped mid-step, pointedly didn't look at Sam.

"I got it covered," he murmured, not quite a growl and this time Sam did smile, faintly, something relaxing inside him at the threat in his brother's voice.

"You are both walking a dangerous road, Dean. More than either of you know. If you do not stop…"

Castiel trailed off, staring down at the heavier books, still sitting on the table.

"What? If we don't stop what?"

"There is no place in God's work for such abominations."

Sam felt as if the angel had just sucker-punched him. He saw Dean reel back a step, shock trembling in his brother's voice as the hunter groped for the back of the chair at his side.

"What?"

"You jeopardize everything we fight for, Dean."

"Cas, come on. So we wouldn't give you Anna, but what happened to free –"

"This has nothing to do with Anna!"

The shout hit them, voice given corporeal weight by a being with more power than Sam could ever imagine. It slapped across his face, snapped his head back and he felt blood trickle from his nose as he staggered, caught himself against the kitchen counter. Somehow, faintly, he heard his brother grunt, caught a flash of him falling back, one hand still wrapped white-knuckled around the back of the chair, taking it with him to the floor in a tangle of limbs and splintering wood. Glass shattered somewhere and Kate screamed, Petey's wail of protest a faint ringing in his ears.

Catching his balance, the younger man steadied his gun, bracing one hand against the counter top as he shook his head.

"Dean?"

"'M okay."

His brother sounded winded but he could already make out the sound of the older man dragging himself to his knees. He kept his attention and his aim riveted on the angel as Castiel stalked forward, the table sliding out of his path with a low groan.

"If you do not stop, we will be forced to make you stop, Dean. We cannot risk losing the war because you will not understand the consequences of your actions."

The angel's voice was cold, utterly inhuman as he stopped in front of Dean. Sam saw a thin trickle of blood wind down the back of his brother's neck as Dean knelt on the floor surrounded by the remains of the table, light glittering from the shattered glass around him.

"What actions, Cas? Start talking some sense, dammit."

"You must choose. There is no going back from this…"

Sam blinked, lost the rest of the angel's words beneath a voice that rang in his head like a bell.

"Are ya sure, Samuel? Once ya tell me yes there ain't no goin' back. No' for eider of ya, no matter what come. No matter what it do to ya."

The Ghede.

"Dean…"

Through the shadows he saw his brother look at him; turn back to the angel looming over him, fury taut in both men. The sound of their argument was buried again, under a laugh like gravestones tumbling together.

"Okay den. Jus' remember, Samuel, in times ta come, dis was your choice. Yours alone."

It did something to you.

"Get out."

He wondered who was speaking, the rough, grating snarl loud in the gloom until the angel and his brother turned to stare at him.

"Sam?"

Castiel's glare turned to ice, sharp as a razor scraping against his skin.

"I said," Sam cocked the gun, sneered back at the angel, tried not to let his hands shake. "Get. Out."

"You should be careful, Sam, not to make threats you cannot fulfill."

He forced his feet to step forward until the barrel of the gun hovered a scant inch from the angel's nose and felt Dean fall in behind him, a silent, furious presence at his back.

"I'm not."

Castiel looked past him, over his shoulder at his brother, cold eyes softening the faintest bit.

"Do not let him swallow you, Dean. Fight him with everything you can. He is stronger than you realize, and more cunning. He has waited a long time for you, but if you fall to his greed, none of this," the angel's gaze flickered around the room, a silent gesture to indicate everything. "Will matter."

Sam blinked at the empty space in front of him, the rushing of wings already fading into the dark.