CHAPTER 3

When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, but finds none.

Then it says, 'I will return to my house from which I came.'

And when it comes, it finds the house empty, swept, and put in order.

Then it goes and brings with it seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there, and the last state of that person is worse than the first.

So also will it be with this evil generation."

Matthew, 12:43-45

THEN

Somewhere in Heaven

He crept slowly from the hole. It was deep, and very, very dark, like a grave, but he had been in worse situations before. This one, though, it was in a place he had never seen. There was a bright light everywhere. Pure, white and blinding, it hurt his eyes, so much that there were actual tears in them.

"What a clever idea", he thought, sarcastically; "to imprison a demon in Heaven."

The body of the angel he had just killed was in his cell, and he hoped the creature's scream hadn't warned the others of his escape. He needed to be quick or he would burn in this place where everything seemed to be made of light.

The place was indeed, beautiful. But he couldn't truly appreciate its splendor, because his skin was burning. He almost missed the hole he'd spent so many years imprisoned in. Suffering with all that… purity, immaculacy, around him. Maybe if he'd known what waited for him outside, he wouldn't have escaped. At least the hole was dark. Well, too late now. But here, the pure light burned his skin, creature of darkness that he was, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of that place.

He looked around, looking for a shadow, for cover, for anything that would take the burning sensation away. Then, out of nowhere, he saw stairs, far, far away. He ran towards them, not knowing where they led to, but at that moment, he didn't care.

When he reached them, he noticed that they didn't lead anywhere. There was what seemed to be a flight of stairs, going down, but they ended in a kind of void, an empty space.

He cursed, because the light was still burning, and he could feel the skin of his face peeling off. His arms, legs, torso, everything was disappearing like it was nothing. He knew that once they were gone, once the meat suit that protected his essence disappeared, he would be only black smoke. And black smoke didn't have a place here; he would explode once the pureness of the light reached his tainted core, and he would be history.

So he closed what was left of his eyes and waited for his inevitable death. "I wish I were on Earth now…" he thought, almost wistfully. It would be good to see his playground once more. It was pathetic, really, to escape the prison and die this way.

Suddenly, everything around him changed. His closed eyes and his sensitive skin felt the absence of the maddening heat, and he frowned.

He wasn't in Heaven anymore; he was on Earth.

He let out a thunderous laugh. Stupid, stupid angels. They had put his prison next to a fucking portal to Earth? Or whatever that thing was; it didn't matter. For ancient creatures, the angels could be so naïve… he would have cried of happiness, had he still a heart.

He was free.

And he wanted revenge.

Looking around he realized he was in a dark alley. How convenient. There was an old car nearby, and he looked at his reflection in the car's window. Well, his face was practically gone. This meat suit would not do anymore. He opened the meat suit's mouth and the black smoke poured out of it. Now he was pure darkness again, just the way his creator had wished him to be.

Now, all he had to do was find the angel who'd imprisoned him. And make him pay.

NOW

Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013.

"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Pro sanctis Angelis et Archangelis, qui in cælo habitant.

Pro fidei veritate et iustitia.

Castiel me angelus Domini, et nunc ostendisti mihi quae ego praecipio vobis.

Precipimus tibi quod solvat latet velo indignus creatura, et tunc apparent coram me.

Armatum caelestis auctoritas, imperium apparebit!"

Castiel finished the ancient words and heard a thunder in the distance. All the lights in the warehouse went out. The windows started to vibrate.

Even in the dark, he could see perfectly fine, so it didn't escape his attention that a man had materialized over the symbols he had drawn on the floor. Slowly, the creature raised his head and looked at him. The lights went on again and Castiel found himself looking at John Winchester's face.

"Hello, hello!" the creature greeted.

"Who are you?" Castiel asked.

The creature didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Castiel with disdain. "My, my, someone was punished…" he laughed again. "You're still as I remember, Castiel. But you're not… there's a big part of you missing. You don't shine so disgustingly bright as you did when we last met."

"Do I know you?" Castiel frowned. "Show yourself, demon!"

"Tsk, tsk…" the demon raised an eyebrow. "Don't play the mighty angel card with me; I can see a big part of your Grace is missing. Poor little angel, did daddy punish you?" he said mockingly.

"So we know each other." Castiel frowned, trying to look beyond the demon's vessel. But he couldn't, which could only mean two things: either he was getting weaker, or the demon was a strong one.

"Oh, we do, we do, my dear." The demon looked at the devil's trap he was standing over. "I hope you know this won't contain me for too long. So you better say why you summoned me."

"Who are you?"Castiel insisted.

The demon looked at him and pursed his lips. "Let's see. Big place with an annoying bright light, full of cells inside deep holes? That's where I escaped from, angel."

Castiel knew immediately who he was. "Crowley."

"The one and only," Crowley said. "You know, that place you put me in to rot for years and years? It took me forever to escape, but I did. And now our situation is reversed. I'm almost tempted to fight with you to see who will win. But I have more important things to do, so we'll have to reschedule that."

Castiel tilted his head. "How did you escape?"

Crowley laughed loudly. "Well, after sixty years, your fellow angels let their guard down. Maybe they were short-staffed? The put a pretty little thing to take care of my cell. Poor youngling. His compassion made him go to my hole on the ground, because I was in pain, or so he thought."

"What did you do, filthy creature?"

"Oh, nothing too fancy. I just killed him with his own blade. He was pretty, you know? Blue eyes, eager to help a soul condemned to perpetual prison on Heaven; I think you might even know him. Samandriel."

Castiel felt a pang of sorrow for his young brother. Samandriel had compassion, indeed. Too much for his own good.

"I want you to leave John Winchester's body," Castiel demanded with conviction.

The demon laughed. "Oh! But I'm only starting to have fun with him!"

"Is John alive?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss the opportunity to torture someone!" the demon gave an amused laugh. "He's here, trapped, screaming and pleading for me to let him out. Which I will do, in due time, as soon as I finished playing with him. Of course, I don't think there will be much left of his brain, but, what can be done?" he shrugged.

"Leave him! I will not tolerate this any longer!"

"You're not in the position to give me orders, I hope you know that. Oh, little angel, don't you realize there's nothing you can do to stop me? I could even try to kill you now, and who knows? Maybe I would succeed, such a weak, pitiful thing you are now."

Castiel blinked and suddenly his angel blade was in his hand. "Come. I'm ready."

The demon laughed again. "Not today, Castiel. Today I want to see you squirm and run to save your beloved Dean Winchester from adding one more line on that list of yours."

Castiel paled and took a step back. "How do you know about – "

The demon interrupted him. "Information is everything," he said with a smirk. "He is going to fail, you know. All the faith you have put in him… for nothing. You are a fool."

"Why are you after him?"

"Hadn't you realized yet?" Crowley said, smirking. "I'm not really after him. It's all because of you, my dear angel. You imprisoned me, you enslaved me, you caused all my skin to peel off my body! Now you will watch while your precious Dean Winchester falls in my hands."

"Leave Dean out of this! And free his father!"

"Make me," Crowley whispered sarcastically.

Castiel stepped inside the devil's trap, his hand raised towards Crowley, brandishing his angel blade. But the demon was faster. Out of nowhere, a sharp knife materialized in his hand, and he put it in his own chest, the sharp blade pointing directly to John Winchester's heart.

Castiel stopped.

"You don't have your old healing powers anymore, do you?" Crowley murmured, his face inches from Castiel's. "If you do, go ahead. I put this knife through his chest, you kill me, and then you heal him. Simple. Go ahead!" he provoked.

Castiel took a step back. His blade couldn't hurt humans. But real knives could. This was Dean's father, and even if Dean was resentful of him, Castiel would not hurt an innocent.

"I see," said Crowley. "You are even more pathetic than I imagined."

"What do you want, Crowley?" There was a feeling of dread in Castiel's chest. Crowley was smart but despicable, and nothing good could come out of his mouth.

"Revenge. Sweet, complete, utter revenge."

"Leave Dean and his father out of this. We can negotiate." Castiel was willing to do anything. Anything so Dean would never have to deal with Crowley again.

"Too late," Crowley said, triumphantly. "I've watched you, Castiel. I know how attached you are to that man. You…love him." Crowley almost spat the words. "Dean Winchester will die, Castiel, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"When he dies," Castiel said with conviction, "I will take him to Heaven with me." He didn't want that to happen now. Dean was still too young to die. But he would take Dean to Heaven, like was expected, and –

Crowley shook his head. "No, no, it won't happen like that. He's not dying of old age, Castiel. I will make sure he fails every step of the way on the very thing you're trying to stop him from doing. The same way I made sure he pushed his father yesterday. He will fail, and each time, his soul will be more and more tainted and dark. And finally," he said, closing hid eyes and smiling like he was imagining something sweet and beautiful, "I will personally take him to Hell with me. And every time he's tortured, every time he screams and pleads for mercy downstairs, I will remember you, and I know you will be suffering because it's your fault he's in pain. I will make sure he knows you are the cause of his torment. There is no greater revenge than that. My revenge will be endless and blissful."

Castiel felt like all strength was leaving him. "No," he murmured. "I won't let you."

"There's nothing you can do, angel. He is already doomed."

"He-he's only broken four of them," Castiel said, more to himself. "There's still time to stop him from – "

"Five," Crowley said, "he broke five, Castiel. At this time, he's broken five, and the sixth is on the way."

"You can't – "

"Oh, I can. What do you think I've been doing today while you sweep floors and clean tables, giving him the 'space' he asked for? I've been whispering in his ear the whole day. A suggestion here, another there… I even went to him this morning using a new meat suit, with my broken sports car…he is so, so easy to manipulate."

Crowley raised his hands and a pipe over his head broke, water spilling over the devil's trap, breaking it. He smiled and nodded, almost politely, the knife's tip still pressed against his heart.

"As much as I would love to stay and have tea while we chat, I have an appointment," Crowley lifted one eyebrow, the knife's tip still pressed against John's heart. "I suggest you run to your dear Dean, Castiel. He might need you. He's very upset, after last night. Oh, and look for him at his workplace, will you?" When Castiel frowned, Crowley gave an evil smile and said, "Think, Castiel, what day is today? Sunday, isn't it? I would really run if I were you." And with a wink, Crowley was gone.

And Castiel ran.

THEN

Somewhere in Earth

The demon Crowley looked for the angel Castiel everywhere. He would have his revenge, even if he had to wait forever. He had all the time in the world again, now that he was free.

But he couldn't find the angel. He waited and waited, but he couldn't find the one who had caused his torment. He knew Castiel was way stronger than him, but strength wasn't everything. Castiel was an angel. Therefore, all the malice Crowley had, Castiel lacked. Crowley would find a way; he would come up with a plan. All he knew was that Castiel would pay dearly for imprisoning him.

He had a lot of contacts, and he finally found Castiel, in Lawrence, Kansas, of all places. He was watching in the shadows while a man worked on his car. Castiel looked at the man, frowning, like there was a battle inside his head. Crowley could see the confusion and bewilderment on the angel's face. Who'd have imagined the angel Castiel was a stalker? Whoever this man was, Castiel was starting to get attached to him.

It was easy to stay in Lawrence possessing a mailman. He learned everything he could about this Dean Winchester that Castiel liked so much. He still didn't know what Castiel wanted with the man, because to Crowley, the guy was as normal, unremarkable and useless as any human. But in a short time, with his persuasion – and manipulation – skills, he knew everything there was to know about the man Castiel was stalking.

Then, Castiel disappeared for two or three days, and Crowley worried. He couldn't follow him to Heaven, after all. But then he came back, and he had another with him. Crowley stayed close, but not too much, because angels could see the demon inside the mailman. But finally, finally, they let their guard down, and Crowley overheard a few conversations here and there. It wasn't hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Crowley had always been clever and cunning. He found out why Castiel observed the man so much, and why he apparently had turned into a busboy in a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere.

And his plan started to take shape inside his head.

Now all he had to do was find Dean Winchester's father.

NOW

Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013

Right after Dean had the fight with his father, he'd started walking on the street and hadn't even waited for Castiel to follow, but Castiel had followed him anyway. After a few blocks, Dean stopped and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Only then, he appeared to notice that Castiel was there with him.

"Look, Cas…" he started, still not looking at Castiel. "I… I want to be alone, okay?"

"I just wanted to know if you were alright, Dean," Castiel reasoned, feeling wave after wave of sorrow radiating from his friend.

"I'm fine," Dean snapped, but then closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, that was… sorry."

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel said, hesitantly putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean didn't seem to mind the contact. He looked at Castiel. "Look, I just need some time alone, Cas." His mouth formed a thin line. "I need to figure out some things on my own. I – I'll call you at the diner tomorrow, okay?"

"If you need anything – " Castiel started.

Dean sighed again. "I know," he said. "But now, I just… I need space."

And Castiel had let him go, thinking that, if Dean needed space, he would give it to him. He would go to Castiel when he was ready. There wasn't much that Castiel could do, anyway, his Grace weak as it was. Besides, he needed time to think, too.

There was a demon inside John Winchester.

Castiel was sure that the demon was responsible for the fight between father and son. But why? Why would a demon posses Dean's father? What would he creature gain from that?

There was only one thing to do: summon the demon himself and ask it personally what it wanted with John. For that, he needed time to think, he needed to find an empty place to do the summoning and an adequate time. He couldn't get caught.

Dean hadn't called the whole Sunday. So Castiel waited, but didn't worry. He would need some time for himself too, to summon the demon in an abandoned warehouse he'd found at the other side of the city.

He had gone to the warehouse, after the diner closed, feeling resolute and firm in his purpose. Even weak, he would certainly be stronger than the creature of darkness. So, hoping to find who the demon was, and what he wanted, wasn't too much to wish for.

He'd found out a lot more than that.

Now, even as he ran, looking for a taxi that could take him to Dean's garage, he already knew he had failed again.

It was already too late. Sunday was almost ending and he had left Dean alone the whole day.

…

Even before he reached the garage, the pain is his head told him that, indeed, he was late. He tossed a few bills at the taxi driver – he was still not comfortable with the concept of money and with the fact that he owned some – and got out of the car as fast as he could. His head was pounding, and Castiel had to stop on the sidewalk to regain his breath.

Had his Grace not been diminished, he wouldn't feel pain. It was very hard to be a human being and deal with all the care a human body needed.

Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, he approached the garage's door. He could hear loud music coming from inside, one of the rock bands Dean talked so much about.

"Dean?" Castiel knocked and waited. The music stopped abruptly.

"Cas?" Dean called from inside. "Wait, lemme unlock th' door!" His speech was slightly slurred and Castiel knew instantly he had been drinking.

The scene that awaited him inside was something that made a dull ache in his heart start and join his pounding head. Dean was wearing his work overalls and had a beer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. "Hey, Cas!" he said, with a dumb expression. "Whaddya doin'here?"

"I… I was looking for you. You didn't call…" Castiel said lamely, because he realized he didn't know what to say.

"Spent the whole day workin', man," Dean said, turning his back to Castiel and putting the screwdriver on a table full of tools. There was a red sports car with the hood opened near the table. "This guy came ta me this mornin' and he was like, can you fix ma' car, it's kinda urgent'n all… so here I am!" He smiled drunkenly at Castiel. "Payment's good."

"You spent the whole day working," Castiel stated the obvious. "And drinking," he finished, after seeing the opened cooler by the car's side. "On a Sunday."

"Best way ta spend a Sunday, man!" Dean said, winking at Castiel. "D'you wan'a beer?"

Castiel slowly shook his head no. "Did you eat anything?" he asked, worried. The damage was done now, but he was still worried about Dean's well being.

"Ya're no fun!" Dean slurred. "An' stop motherin' me; 'm not a child."

"Okay, Dean," Castiel said with resignation. "If you're finished, let me take you home. It's getting late and you have work tomorrow."

"The perks of bein' ma own boss, man, is that I don' have ta work if I don' wanna."

"Come on, Dean," Castiel said. "Give me your car keys."

Dean grimaced, but put his hand in his pocket, looking for the car keys. "It's here sm'where…" he mumbled, his legs unsteady.

Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and made him sit on the tattered couch. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'll look for the car keys."

Dean mumbled something about bossy nerd dudes and closed his eyes. "Sure. Ever'thing's spinnin' anyway," he said, grimacing again. "Why's ever'thing spinnin', Cas?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, despite the gravity of the situation. "Just stay there," he ordered again, and went inside the adjacent office to look for the keys.

Inside, Dean's desk was a mess of papers, beer bottles and empty packs of chips. The keys were inside one of the drawers, under a few pictures. Castiel pulled the pictures and looked at them.

"Oh, Dean…" he whispered.

In his hands, a black and white image of a blond boy with a dark haired man made his heart clench. Father and son were side by side; Dean was holding a baseball bat and John was wearing a baseball glove. They looked tired and sweaty, but their smiles at the camera were happy. Behind them, a dark haired baby in a stroller looked at a pacifier with a thoughtful expression: Sam.

Castiel shook his head, so sad he couldn't even describe. For someone not used to feeling emotions – angels were warriors, feelings were a completely foreign concept to them – he certainly had been feeling a lot of them lately. Maybe because his Grace wasn't completely there to buffer all the human emotions he had no clue how to fight.

He put the pictures back in the drawer and closed it slowly. He concentrated hard and a glance at the desk made all the bottles and empty packs disappear and put all the papers in order. Little things like that he still could do, even if they left him a little weak. It was as if his Grace now had 'batteries'. It worked for some time, and then it took a while to recharge. He hadn't used it lately, not even with Crowley today. He could spare some now.

Dean was still on the couch when Castiel returned, but he was lying on it now, with his head on the armrest. His eyes were opened and fixed on the ceiling.

Castiel stopped beside him, not knowing what to say. The car keys were in his hand, but Dean looked so peaceful that Castiel didn't want to interrupt his thoughts, whatever they were. He doubted Dean would be in any condition to drive, anyway.

"I always envied Sam, ya' know?" Dean said, after a few minutes of silence. "He always had ever'thing." For some reason, his speech wasn't so slurred anymore. "He was spared."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, stopping by his side.

"He was small when Dad left. Doesn' remember a thing. Doesn' feel left behind." He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Didn' see Mom dyin' inside."

"Dean…" Castiel kneeled by Dean's side, wanting more than anything to comfort him, but not knowing how.

"It's not fair, Cas!" Dean said, eyes still on the ceiling. "For a long time, I thought he'd gone b'cause of me. Som'thing I'd done. Mom told me what happn'd when I was fifteen. That he cheated on'er." He snorted, shaking his head, as if in disbelief. "That he'd cheated, knock'd up the neighbor; the kid has the same age as Sam."

Castiel couldn't stop himself anymore. Slowly, he raised his hand and ran it through Dean's hair. The gesture of comfort was like a breaking a dam, because tears started to fall from Dean's eyes, and Castiel didn't know if Dean was aware of them, he was so lost in his memories.

"Sam kinda sympathizes with him," Dean said bitterly. "Even though he never called on birthdays or Chrissmas. He's been callin' Mom, 'n Sam says we need ta give'im a chance. I… I don't know if I can do that. Sam didn't had ta check if Mom hadn't offed herself at night, b'cause she cried so much that I…" Dean blinked slowly. "Didn' want her to leave us too."

Castiel had never touched anyone's hair before and he marveled at the silky texture. Dean didn't seem to mind, or wasn't aware of Castiel's hand on his hair. So Castiel didn't stop.

"Sam doesn' r'member. It's easy for him to forgive Dad. I can't, Cas. I just... I envy Sam. He's a lucky bast'rd. He has the perf'ct career, the perf'ct car, the perf'ct girl, he's gonna earn a lotta money and have the perf'ct house in N'York and mak'em all proud while I…" he sniffed. "Shit, I envy him so much."

Through everything, Castiel's head hadn't stopped pounding. But he had more important things to worry about, so he was trying to suppress the pain the best way he could. At Dean's words, a particular strong wave of pain made him blink several times to make it go away, but his hand didn't leave Dean's hair.

Dean shuddered, seeming to realize he was crying. "Shit. 'm stupid, Cas," he said, trying to clean his face with the back of his hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Castiel whispered.

"Ya're not gonna leave too, are you?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel with hazy eyes. "You can't, b'cause ya're my friend, 'kay?"

"I won't, Dean," Castiel vowed.

Dean raised his hand slowly and cupped Castiel's face. The other hand found its way to the back of Castiel's neck and Dean pulled him in a little. Castiel suddenly realized they were only inches apart. Dean's hot breath on his face smelled like alcohol, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was Dean, and nothing about him would be unpleasant to Castiel; ever.

"Ya hafta stay," Dean said, mouth so close to Castiel that he had to close his eyes at the onslaught of emotion that gripped him. "B'cause I care about ya, 'kay?"

Castiel could only nod, because if he opened his eyes and looked at Dean, he would lose himself in the other man, whose soul he was trying to protect at any cost. Not that there was any going back to him now; he was hopelessly devoted to Dean, and even if he didn't regret any of his actions until now, it was a new territory for him, and he feared the intensity of the emotions he felt because of Dean Winchester.

"'kay?" Dean insisted, mouth so close to Castiel's that he could almost taste it. "Promiss' me."

"I promise. I won't leave you," Castiel whispered, eyes still closed.

He felt Dean's soft lips on his, and there was nothing more in this world besides the feeling of Dean's lips: no Heaven, no Hell, no Earth. There was nothing more important than the feeling of the kiss and through the touch Castiel could feel Dean's emotions, a swirl of confusion, excitement and a tenderness so strong that made Castiel want to weep too.

It ended all too soon, but Dean still didn't let Castiel go. "Good," he said, almost to himself, and they stayed like that for a few seconds. Then Dean blinked slowly, shifting a little on the couch, so Castiel took his hand off Dean's hair and leaned away from him a little. Dean held Castiel's hand and put it on his hair again. "Feels good," he murmured sleepily, closing his eyes.

Castiel spent a long time with his hand on Dean's hair while Dean slept, his face finally relaxed, looking young and carefree. He smiled sadly, because he had wanted so much to protect this man, and couldn't. He'd never felt so much like a failure as now.

Dean had broken two of God's Commandments in one go.

Observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.

You shall not covet your neighbor's goods.

Castiel took a deep breath and sat on the floor. He had to find a way to stop Crowley. He had to find a way to protect Dean. Because if Dean kept on breaking God's Commandments like that…

He was going to die.