This depressingly delayed chapter is a summery, just bits and chunks of those important scenes that you may have forgotten over the course of the last year or so that this story has been forming

And as the nature of the beast goes, it will be a glaring reiteration of important plot points. I find that whenever we have these sorts of things before an episode it's kind of like one giant spoiler, telling you exactly what this episode is going to be about.

If you don't want that particular experience- please just skip to the next chapter which picks up just where the last one left off and incidentally has very little plot and is mostly kissing.

The road so far:

Dean was probably just talking to himself, cursing his own woeful stupidity for ever getting involved. He never should have gone to visit Sam a month ago.

Yeah, he was fairly certain that is where he went wrong.

He still had no clue why Sam had moved out here when it was all over, something about a teaching job, and returning to nature or some shit like that that Dean did not buy for a hot second. His brother was hiding from his old life after the whole Devil's Gate close shave, and Maine seemed as good a place as any to do that- not that Dean could blame Sam for wanting a change- but seriously, Maine?

.:.

Dean had just enough time to slip his foot from the break to the gas before the thing hit his car, coming out of the misty, damp night, sailing like a stone and slamming into the hood of the Impala with a wet crunch.

"Fuck!" He articulated smoothly as he fumbled for the sawed-off under the seat and rolled out of his wounded car. It was a human-ish projectile, but Dean's eyes could not seem to focus on the shape of it, there were legs and arms, pale skin and night dark blood shining black in a smear down his windshield but it kept blurring in his vision, like he was trying to see it though a vale of smoke. Dean knew what it was, knew it was part of that same strange aftermath that he had been facing down for months.

He half turned away, looking down the stretch of road as it twisted and wound away into the trees and there it was, in the corner of his eyes he could see them.

Wings.

It was another Angel.

.:.

Sam's house looked a lot like Dean remembered it from last time he had visited, freakishly clean with piles of books being the only disruption to the sparse landscape, books and cake. The cake was new. It was pink and coconut covered and half eaten. It was a big hideous blob of junk food on the coffee table flanked with one bottle of beer and one of peppermint schnapps. Dean lowered himself to the recliner, smiling at the knowledge that his clothes were filthy. He took the beer and it was warm, but still drinkable.

Sam and Gabe slunk into the room, carrying the second Angel between them, its long black wings dragging on the floor, leaving weak smears on the hardwood.

.:.

"So… you destroyed the Denatius thing?" It was a funny mental image to Dean. "You couldn't even stay awake."

"I used what was left of my Grace." Cas said softly.

Dean glanced over in time to see the Angel looking at his hands, slowly curling and uncurling his fingers, looking like he had lost something. It was beyond pitiful. "Will, uh, there be more of 'em coming for you?"

"Ursiel was not the only Blackened Denarius in the area, so I suppose it is possible."

"And what are these d-denariuses?"

"They are fallen angels bonded to human hosts." He spat it out, the first real emotion that had crept into his voice since he found it.

And that got Dean's attention. "Are you saying that Angels are going around possessing people?"

"They are not Angels any longer."

"So, like you and Gabe?" Something did not feel right about this. Something was definitely wrong with the idea of an Angel taking a human host.

"No, they are nothing like us." He stood; no longer wanting to sit beside Dean and when he spoke again there was a ringing echo of his true voice. "We fell because we had no strength to stay any longer. The denarians fell as Lucifer did. They are no more Angels than you or your brother, or any other hairless ape on this desolate shell of a world."

Dean had nothing to say to that. His ears were ringing slightly and he wanted a moment to get his thoughts in order before speaking again, but then Castiel was sitting beside him once more, head bowed slightly.

"My apologies. I lost my temper. It is a beautiful world that our Father has given to your kind."

"Yeah." Dean did not move closer this time.

"I am fallen from heaven, but I did not Fall." He put extra weight on that last word and Dean figured that he sort of understood. The Angel turned his pale face to the sky, the crooked sliver of moon catching in his eyes. "I will return one day, Father willing. The denarians never will. They forsook their Grace, willingly abandoning it to follow our brother down below."

.:.

"Fallen Angels were the big guns brought out in hopes of ending the war. Really nasty things that were supposed to tip the scales for the dark side." Gabriel explained. "Problem is, the big hitters were a bit too big and without Lucifer around to keep them in line they sort of went awol. Mostly it's just general mayhem- they still stick to the whole apocalypse party that hell and heaven are trying to kick off, but when they get a whiff of an Angel down here on earth? They just go nuts."

.:.

Cas was laying curled on his side, his blood, a little too dark to be mistaken for Dean's, had soaked through the canvas jacket and was congealing beneath him too thick and in too great in quantity. And Gabriel of all people was crouched at his brother's side, hands pressed to Cas' ribs like he was attempting to hold something in, attempting and loosing the fight. His thin arms shaking with the effort.

But that wasn't the half of it. One of Cas' beautiful black wings was crumpled against his back, blurring and shifting in the light, the other one lay quite solid and real and easy to see a few feet away, feathers stripped away in places and jagged splinters of bone poking out here and there, glaringly bright in the mess of darkness. But the wing was not the only thing lying very wrongly in the mud, there were bits of red, thick meaty bits that must have been meat of some sort, and there were bones there too, just tiny pieces, really no more than scraps. Like a cow had been shoved through a wood chipper. Except cows didn't have fingers, and Dean knew that one of those little chunks was definitely a finger.

Something in his brain shut down. It wasn't helpful at all, but it did keep him from screaming, so maybe it wasn't all bad.

"What the fuck happened?" Dean's words were sharp and accusatory, he needed someone to blame.

"I-" the little Angel was still clinging to his brother. "The weather patterns, Sam saw them, knew something bad was coming." He swallowed thickly. "It was Anduriel."

.:.

"Look, I'm not saying that we need to go out and do body shots together or anything. I'm just saying that I need your help with Cassy."

Dean's teeth caught his lip for a moment. "Keep talking, shortstack."

Gabe grinned like he knew he had won. "He's not talking to me again. He asked what happened to Anduriel, I told him- he punched me and clammed up."

"What did happen to Anduur…ur… Andy the fallen angel?" He remembered meaty bits all over the gravel and his stomach churned slightly.

"I… I blew him up." He looked as ill as Dean felt. "Look, I'd rather not talk about it." He squared his shoulders. "Now, Cas likes you, god knows why, but he does. He might talk to you- tell you what's going on."

Dean was frowning again. "What exactly am I asking him about?"

"Why the denarius are after him. Now, I can understand one catching his scent and going after him for fun- but two is a gross coincidence, and three is just ridiculous, especially since it was Anduriel."

"And why was that last dude such a big deal?"

Gabe made a face like he had tasted something sour. "Anduriel was Lucifer's right-hand man after the fall, his second in command. There's a war going on and last I heard he was trying to bust his boss out of the pit. And for some reason he was up here instead. A bastard like him should have much more exciting things to be doing with his time than hunting down and killing a little empty Angel shell. Something funny's going on, something rotten in the state of Denmark- and all that."

It didn't sound like a good thing to Dean either. "Wait- you blew up the assistant Satan?"

He sighed, his little body deflating slightly. "I just destroyed his vessel, don't make a big deal of it."

"You're a scary little dude. You know that?"

.:.

As Dean rounded the Impala he saw a twinkling beside the left front tire, something the wrong sort of color and sheen to be glass. He stooped down, picking up the little trinket and frowned. It wasn't much more than a busted up silver disk the size of his thumbnail, marred and scratched up beyond reason on one side, the other worn smooth until it shone in the piercing sunlight. He flicked it high in the air, catching it and letting it drop into his pocket. He didn't really know why he put it there, but he didn't really think about it either. It just sort of happened and then he was back to his raking.

.:.

"Who are you and what are you looking for?" She took up a stance with her back to a wall, where she could easily watch him. She looked tired and definitely injured, there was a trickle of fresh blood on her left forearm, but she kept the gun level.

Despite the fact that she was threatening him with a firearm, Dean decided that he liked this little girl. She was like a tiny heroine from a video game come to stand before him after some serious survival horror, button mashing hell.

"Look, I'm a friend of Kaleb's-"

"Like hell you are. My dad would have mentioned a pretty boy like you. Now tell me who you are or I will pump you so full of lead you'll be able to use your dick as a pencil."

Yeah, he definitely liked her, but more than ever he wanted that gun aimed somewhere else. Apparently the old hunter Sam had sent him to talk to had a kid. It did explain why she was holding her sawed-off like she knew what she was doing. It sort of made them, what, coworkers? Maybe this was one of those rare instances where honesty was a good idea. "I'm a hunter... Like your dad. Name's Dean."

"I'm Andy." She said in her soft voice as the barrel of the gun dipped to a less lethal angle.

"What happened here?"

"Ghouls." was the simple explanation. She didn't need to say anymore, but she kept going; the words starting to spill from her. "I came home late last night... they were- were feeding on what was left of Dad and Joshua and-" a hand came to her mouth to stifle a pained noise.

.:.

"Ghouls?" Cas' usually deadpan voice sounded strangely skeptical.

"Yeah." Dean agreed softly.

"Did you actually see their remains?"

"There wasn't enough left to fill an Easter basket." And wasn't that a charming mental image that Dean immediately regretted forming.

"A mere child reduced two ghouls to nothing more than pieces?" His gruff voice was dragging with the weight of his doubt.

"She wasn't just a child, Cas." The insinuation was insulting. "Her Dad was a hunter."

"As the child of a hunter yourself, at her age would you have been able to destroy two monsters to the point that you could no longer distinguish them from the remains of three adults? Was there really so little left?"

"What are you trying to say, Cas?" Dean was bristling. He didn't want to be defensive, but there were lots of things he had no control over and there was no point in fighting all of them. He had learned years ago when to pick his battles.

"I am saying that you don't smell like ghouls."

.:.

"Just calm down." He tried his most reasonable voice. "It's fine. I'm me."

"I said get out of him." Cas' voice was new now, something darker and deeper, with the wrath of heaven in his lungs.

"Listen to me, Cas. I'm the only one in here. Me, Dean,"

"Don't lie to me. I know it's you in there. I can feel your filth on him." He bore his teeth in a way that was very far from any human expression that Dean had seen. "I may not be as strong as I once was, but I am stronger than when last we met and I will find a way to cast you out."

"Christ, Cas- I'm not possessed." He wanted to yell it, but it came out in a sort of pained hiss instead.

The distance between them vanished as the Angel of the Lord suddenly rushed forward, crowding Dean like he had never once heard of personal space. He pressed one hand to Dean's forehead, the other to his shoulder and pushed him back a few more steps until they crashed roughly into a parked car.

"If you force me to hurt him, I will find a way to destroy you." Cas' words slid over him, his breath just as hot as his hands. "I swear I will."

.:.

"Better? I don't feel better. What the hell do you mean it's Tuesday?"

"What happened out here?" Sam was all hunched and worried, his shoulders smooth and arched as he leaned closer.

"I don't know. I went to Kaleb's- found him dead and did a salt n' burn just to make sure he stayed down." He rubbed the inside of a wrist over his mouth. "Got his journals from his daughter, picked Cas up from church and we decided to rest a bit before making the drive back to Bobby's… and it was Sunday." He added firmly, because that honestly seemed the most important point to make in all this.

"You seem to have forgotten about the time when I thought you were possessed by an Archangel and I tried to save you." Cas said so simply that it actually made Dean laugh, earning him a strange look and the Angel continued in a strained, yet unfathomably patient voice. "The exorcism was more than I should have attempted in my current state."

.:.

Dean slowly looked back at his feet, counting the two insubstantial dark things clinging to the bottoms of his boots. His stomach dropped and his hands got that itch that they did when they wanted to be holding a gun. Dean sidestepped a quick juke to the left and watched as his shadows slide along with him.

Maybe extra shadows were just a side effect of being possessed? And sure, he could believe that, because right now he really needed something to believe in and he was running low on ideas

.:.

"You in there, Winchester?"

Dean frowned and slowly opened the door.

Kaleb's daughter stood there in dark jeans, a Sex Pistol's t-shirt. Her hair had been mussed into one of those girly little mohawks that left her looking strangely younger- her pale eyes wide and clear.

"What are you doing out here- did you follow me?"

She scoffed and folded her arms under her chest. "No."

"No? You just happened to be staying in the same motel as me? That's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Look, do you want the journals back or not?"

"Back?" He leaned down to meet her eye, something clicking. "You took them?"

"You gave them back to me, asshole." Her little button nose wrinkled in annoyance.

"I-" And something kind of curdled. "You wanna' remind me when that was again- the last few days have been a bit fuzzy."

"Are you serious, Winchester?" And she glowered at him long enough that he almost answered her. "Monday morning. You hunted me down and foisted them on me- You still want my help or what?"

"Sure." And that word felt a little final, like some kind of signed confession he wouldn't be able to take back, but Dean shook himself, sending all his doomsday inclinations scattering and he followed her delightfully pert ass down the hall.

.:.

"Look, Sam… I'm only going to explain this once- because you know I don't do this show and tell crap. Cas and I are… well… we just are- just like you and your little feathery weirdo, except currently with one hundred percent less sexually explicit activities- which I intend to remedy at some undisclosed point in the hopefully not too distant future. I don't want to discuss it beyond this right here and now. I don't want a lecture, I don't want advice, and I don't want you trying to talk me out of it."

"Can I ask a question?" Sam used his best inside voice, the one he would sometimes get when he was much younger and making a suicidal attempt at discussion with John.

"I really doubt that there is any force on this planet that could somehow shut down that part of you." Dean sighed and braced himself for whatever it was that Sam would hit him with.

"Are you happy?"

The buzzing came back, those doubts and thoughts rising up and deafening for a moment. Dean gritted his teeth and refused to let his eyes wander to Cas while he struggled with that unexpected question.

The answer came to him unbidden, just a gut reaction that came rolling out from somewhere deep inside and when nothing substantial rose up to crush it, the thought was given voice. "Yeah. Of course I am." He stared his brother down, daring him to question the half-truth, and he could see, plain as day that Sam knew that the half-truth was also a half-lie.

.:.

"Dean-" Sam narrowed his eyes at the little post-it notes littering the page laid out before him. "Who is the righteous man in hell?"

"How should I know?" It was for this very reason that Dean typically left the research to his brother.

"I don't know- I just assumed that since you wrote it maybe you'd know what it meant."

"I didn't write shit. What are you talking about?"

Sam held up the journal. "You didn't write these notes?" The younger Winchester asked like he simply refused to believe that Dean was not just fucking with him.

"Andy did the translating- I had nothing to do with it."

"Did she dictate to you?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "It was just a hug."

The look Sam gave him was…well, heavy was the best word for it. "Dictate, Dean. Was she telling you what to write?"

"For fuck's sake, Sam. No. I didn't write anything. What's wrong with you?" He stood, coming to loom over his sitting brother, annoyed that they couldn't just eat breakfast together like millions of other dysfunctional families did all across the United States- no, they had to argue about damn post-it notes.

"It's your handwriting." Sam's voice dropped and he let Dean roughly take the book from his hands.

Dean looked at those little bits of paper, crowded over with clumsy, slanted letters made with awkward, abrupt strokes. He realized that he could taste his heartbeat in the back of his throat and it was an unpleasant sensation at least. The letters were all there, in their right places, some scribbled out darkly and rewritten on separate lines- and it had been a while since Dean had seen anything that looked so very wrong without reason.

"I didn't write these."

"You misspelled righteous." Sam pointed out almost gently. "You always do."

"I didn't write these." He shoved the book back, wanting it out of his hands. "It was Andy- she did- she made the notes."

Sam was watching him with that still same worried expression, "Do you think this has something to do with you being," Sam bit down on the next word, not willing to say 'possessed'. "When you were riding shotgun?"

Dean huffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Hell if I know. Apparently that's when she got the journals from me in the first place, so it's possible." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sammy, when you were... you know-" he found he didn't want to say the word 'possessed' either. "Were you missing things?"

"Things?"

"Days." Dean clarified even if the word caught in his throat and he couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at him so sympathetically.

"Bits and pieces." Sam assured. "I think I was only awake for the parts she wanted me there for."

"And what did Michael want me for?" It was one of the questions that had kept Dean far from sleep the night before, though surprisingly it was not the thing that worried him the most.

.:.

"We're talking about breaking seals and opening cages and Lucifer rising up. It doesn't get much steamier than that." Gabriel grinned.

"L-Lucifer?"

"Oh, you'll like him. He's the pretty brother." Gabriel kept that grin in place and Dean felt a little sick.

"Lucifer?" Sam asked again, maybe a bit louder this time. "Like as in The Devil. That Lucifer?"

"I only know the one. It's not really a common name." Gabriel sort of half hugged the journal to his chest let his grin die in a tight laugh. "Apocalypses sure are exciting."

.:.

"I merely thought that in the face of Lucifer's intent to tear Sam's soul apart you would want to denounce your neutral standing on our brother's war. I will not bring it up again in the future."

"But Michael can't be that stupid." Gabriel said suddenly, like he had skipped forward a few pages in the script. "He would have to- but it's suicidal. I was expecting him to just pull some of his flaming sword, spreading judgment in Gehenna bullshit on all the sinful humans. But no- He's throwing himself into the lion's den just for… for what? It's a war he can't expect to win. He has to see that."

"When Lucifer rises and takes a host… surely that would be enough of a violation to draw our Father's attention."

"It's enough to do a hell of a lot more than that." Gabriel dragged a hand through his hair, getting the same look of concentration on his face.

Sam looked like he had strayed far off the path, somehow managing to appear utterly alone despite being surrounded. "What would the Devil want my soul…" Sam couldn't finish it, and it wasn't that he was afraid. Dean knew Sam's scared face. Sam was honestly just confused; baffled that anyone would assume value enough in him to take an interest.

"He doesn't want your soul." Cas explained easily. "He wants your body."

"Ok." Sam licked his lips, struggling to compute this information. "That actually sounds worse somehow. Thanks."

.:.

"The journal you gave back to me, it-" Dean took a sharp breath, realizing how stupid he was about to sound. "Did you make the notes?"

"Notes?" She said the word in her slow way, like she wasn't sure she was hearing him right.

"The translations- all the little notes… those are yours, right?"

"Wrote them with the very hand God gave me." Was her odd answer.

"Have you come across anything about… uh… angelic possessions?"

"Angel's taking hosts?" Again, that damnably mocking slowness to her question. "Did you even bother to look at the journal I gave you last night or should I have stuck around to read it to you?" She made an annoyed sound before Dean could find a sharp enough answer to that. "Yeah, Dad wrote about it a bit near the middle, after those ninety seals. Something about Angels needing vessels- something, something about one for the Archangel and one for the Devil. Did you know," she continued after said nothing, "that the Devil used to be an Archangel before he was cast out of heaven?"

Dean really didn't care about that right now, though he knew he should be making one hell of an attempt because it sounded important. "No shit?"

"I shit you not. The journal I'm working on has all sorts of weird stuff like that in it. It'll probably take me a few more days before I can get through it."

Hang up

Dean looked around wildly for a moment.

Go back to the others

There wasn't anyone else in the room with him.

She uses the truth to lie to you, Dean Winchester

The voice knew his name. The god damned voice knew his name.

Her help is poison

Dean was hearing voices.

Andy was still talking somewhere, but it was just background noise, just a white buzz over the phone, the phone that Dean had dropped. He pushed his hands to his ears, certain that he had not actually heard the voice with them- that it had come from somewhere inside his own head, and for fuck's sake, did that mean he had finally snapped? He was hearing a voice telling him to do things and he was pretty sure that was not a good sign.

.:.

"You're killing me, Winchester. Have you even been paying attention?" Gabriel shook his head, eyes shining with barely restrained laughter. "Michael's not the only one trying to get into your body. He's just the one who came asking for a ride this morning."

"Excuse me?"

"You've got a second hitchhiker… someone from a bit further South than Michael. Not right now mind you- but he's been around. He comes and goes. He's the one that gets Cassy so upset."

"Wait a damn second- I can't get taken by a demon." He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing the anti-possession tattoo over his heart. "They can't get in with this on me."

"I didn't say it was a demon, Deano."

.:.

Gabriel only grinned at Dean. "I'm doing the best I can here to stay under the radar and still help you mutton heads- but if Michael is planning what I think he is I recommend you just try and get the fuck out of Dodge and wait for it to blow over."

"Is that what you're planning to do?" Cas cut in before Dean could explain that nothing would make him happier than throwing his hands up and leaving all this, but he had not exactly been given a choice.

"Damn straight. I'm not letting Michael drag me into another one of his games of cowboys and Indians."

"And where will you abandon us for this time, Gabriel? You've already forsaken Heaven. If you flee here as well, where else do you have to go?" When Gabriel didn't answer Cas made a frustrated noise that sounded like it must have hurt. "You are supposed to be an Archangel. You were supposed to fight alongside us and when we needed you most you deserted us. The end of mankind is nigh and you would do the same to them. You would leave them to their destruction just as you left your family."

"This is not the same thing, Cassy." Gabriel was still looking out the window but there was something decidedly defeated in the slump of his shoulders.

"Our brothers will lay waste to this world and every lovely creation that inhabits it just to fuel their petty dispute. And you would let them." It was such a bitter accusation, like Castiel could think of no greater insult. "You can't remain neutral forever, Gabriel. You can't keep running. You must pick a side."

"Like you did?" Gabriel finally turned around, and for the first time since meeting him, Dean saw anger in the smaller Angel, and it was something horrible to behold. It wasn't loud or brash like every other thing that he did. It was something quiet and corrosive, malice just below the surface, dancing in his bright eyes, making his small frame tremble slightly. "Should I beg our absent Father for his forgiveness and return to the fold? Should I join Michael and his crusade like you chose to do? How well is that working out for you? Are you still feeling good about following his orders? Tell me, Castiel. Oh great and wise, faithful little soldier that you are- please tell me what I should do."

.:.

"There is to be a war, Dean. A war fought not just in heaven, but here on Earth and in the deepest pits of hell… and I … I have lost my faith in our cause." Cas looked down at where Dean's hand still lay open on the bed between them. "I question if I ever had any to begin with."

"You don't need to apologize to me- or anyone for that, Cas."

.:.

"Dean, have you ever wanted something so bad, for so long, only to finally be told you can have it- but now you don't have a fucking clue what to do with it?"

"Yeah." He said softly into the receiver. It was all he had to offer to such a question. If had known how to treat these feelings maybe he would have given her advice, but honestly, she had summed it up fairly well. He didn't have a fucking clue what to do with this. With any of it really.

The silence stretched out between them, razor thin.

"Fuck." She kind of squeaked into the phone. "He knows I'm here."

Something about those words made Dean's head hurt. "What?" She didn't answer immediately and Dean was worried his phone had just up and died on him. "Andy, who knows? Are you alright?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her voice was coming through the phone strangely, high and cut through with static, but it couldn't mask the fact that she sounded terrified.

"Andy, where are you?" He could hear her breathing quickly, but she did not answer him. "Damn it. Where are you?"

"Dean, there's no such thing as an innocent person." She whispered in that high, frantic way that people tended to get when they were frightened and trying to keep their voice quiet.

"Where are you?"

Andy's voice rang against his ear. "I'll come to you. If you're serious about killing Michael, I have something that might help."

.:.

"Michael will gut you given half a chance. He will carve out your soul and make a comfy new home for himself."

"I get the idea." Dean grumbled.

"No, I don't think you do. He wants you to be his sword," and the word sounded almost dirty when Gabriel said it. "A righteous man to be his weapon in slaying the Devil. Human bodies aren't meant to house the presence of Angels. It doesn't matter if he thinks you're his chosen vessel or if you actually are. He's an Archangel and being in his presence will tear your fragile human soul into a thousand little pieces and all the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put you back together again."

You've already agreed to let someone take you out for a ride once." Gabriel started in a frightfully reasonable voice, as if he already knew he had won. "Michael or otherwise- they already have permission and they will come back for you. My brothers are nothing if not persistent." He smiled slowly. "Unless you were enjoying having someone banging away at your walls, looking for cracks?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something but Gabriel cut him off with a dismissive wave of a hand.

"Because even if there aren't any yet, there will be. You will cave, Deano- everyone does in time. And that's something that we Angels have a lot of. We can wait for the waves to whether stone to nothing more than sand, we can wait for continents to drift apart and together again, and we can wait for stars to burn out. We've got an eternity to lay siege- and what do you have? Fifty more years at least, though considering your life choices and how you eat, I would say more like twenty- if that. My brother will keep bashing away at your walls and even you, the great Dean Winchester will crumble. Either through time or an offer you can't refuse- you will give in. Everyone does."

.:.

It wasn't his brother calling.

Andy's name was displayed in tiny green letters, flashing impatiently at him. The last two phone calls with her had ended in what would best be described as exciting amounts of pain. But she was a kid and he couldn't just leave her hanging, not if she needed his help.

"Yeah?" He kept his voice nice and level, even and unworried.

"I don't have a lot of time, Sam'll be back soon-"

"Excuse me?" And Dean was off his seat, looking out the window, trying to see if she was standing somewhere out in the grey rain- because there was no other explanation he could think of for how she could possibly know where Sam was.

"Just shut up and listen to me. Don't finish that sigil."

"Where are you, Andy? What's going on?"

"When its finished you'll be off limits. Nobody in and nobody out until the seal is broken- do you understand what I'm saying?"

"What's going on?"

"The sacrifices required to break that seal aren't ones you're prepared to make, Dean."

"I don't want to break it-"

"I'm not here to argue. You have to listen to me. You need to get out of here before Michael finishes with your boyfriend- we're running out of options and time."

And even if she was outside, or in a nearby store, watching through the windows, there was no explanation that Dean could come up with to make this ok. He didn't know what was going on, and he was really getting tired of it. The only thing he was sure of was that this was wrong. Wrong like seeing his own hand writing in a journal he had never written in.

"Where are you?" Dean found he was sort of snarling, baring his teeth and his hands were aching for a weapon of some kind. He couldn't tell if he was furious or terrified, but it was a deep, black feeling welling up in him, churning and horrible.

"If you're serious about killing Michael you have to stop this. Don't finish the sigil."

He didn't know how she knew about the tattoo, but he realized that he didn't need to.

If it were possible for him to be possessed by an Angel, wasn't it possible that someone like Andy could be taken as well? As far as he could tell a host was a necessity for those feathery bastards to walk and talk down here.

Dean was suddenly very sure that he wasn't talking to Andy. It didn't matter that she used the girl's quiet, clipped way of speaking- the kid he had met didn't know what was going on any more than he did. She was a bit rough around the edges, but she was uncertain and afraid- and none of that came through in the words Dean was hearing.

"Who is this?" He said carefully, making sure she heard each word clearly.

She made a frustrated noise. "We don't have time for this, Winchester! I've got a sword for you. It can kill an Angel, but it won't be pretty. You need to take it. We're running out of time."

"I don't want your damned sword."

"I'm trying to help you, you jackass. I've been trying to help you this whole time, Dean. Don't go all paranoid on me now. I'll give you the sword. You can kill Michael and end this before it all goes to hell."

"Look, I don't know who I'm talking to, and I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely. I don't want or need your help. And if you don't get the hell out of Andy, when this is all over I will hunt you down and tear you apart, feather by feather. Do you understand?"

"You insufferable son of a bitch. Can't you get it through your thick head that I'm trying to help you?"

.:.

"How's Cas?" Dean looked out the window at the parking lot, just able to make out their car and the two shadowy forms sitting inside.

"He's alright." Came Sam's reply from somewhere behind Dean, and he didn't have to see his little brother's face to know what a lie that was. "He, uh, got a phone call from home and he's a bit… upset now, but Gabe says he'll be fine."

Try as he might, Dean couldn't imagine Cas being upset and he was fairly sure that what Sam meant was a darker word that entailed bleeding of sorts. And Dean didn't know how, but he was very sure that he was going to kill Michael.

The problem was that the hunter had no idea how to kill an Angel. Andy had mentioned a sword, but that might have very much not been Andy making the suggestion so he couldn't put much weight in the solution.

.:.

Dean settled into his seat, glancing over his shoulder to see Castiel sleepily eating a bag of Skittles. There was a smear of browning blood between his nose and lip and a little on the left side of his mouth. Dean couldn't help but think that the blood must make the candy taste awful, but it didn't seem to bother the Angel.

Gabriel was not sitting beside his little brother.

Gabriel was not in the car.

Dean frowned. "Where'd your brother go?"

"The war… is going badly." Cas said in a slow, almost drugged voice, no emotion behind it. "The war is always going badly." And Dean knew shock when he saw it, and it was almost comforting to see that it looked the same in Angels as it did in humans.

"What happened, where's Gabe?" Sam was almost crawling between the seats to get back there though Dean wasn't sure what good that would do anyone.

Cas slowly looked up again and held out his bag of candy to Dean, a silent offering. "Gabriel decided to go home."