Chapter 5

Dean was seeking her out again. There was always a dull throbbing in his chest when she wasn't around, and it got worse the further away she was.

He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't force himself to wake up. It did not feel like a regular sleep; it didn't feel like it belonged to him. He recognised the handy-work as being of angel-like proportions.

"Lirael?" He called out, suddenly realising that he was walking down the central aisle of a large church. There was nobody in the pews and the church hall was quiet. Sun streamed through the large stained glass windows, cascading light of various colours across the floor. Above the altar, a large golden cross was hanging. Beneath it, the candles at the altar were lit and flickering.

"No, Dean, there's just me." A voice said, as a dark figure came out of the confessional box to Dean's left.

"Yeah, and who might you be?" Dean asked, instinctively reaching into his inside jacket pocket for a weapon, but there were none there.

The figure turned to Dean and smiled. "I have many names." He said, walking towards the altar. The man had short dark hair, and was dressed in a smart black suit. Dean felt like he recognised him, but couldn't quite place his face.

Dean followed him slowly, wishing he had some way of protecting himself, even in his own dream. "Well, how about we just work with the one then."

"Very well. Recently, you may have known me as Metatron."

Dean blinked. "I thought Michael killed you." As far as he knew, Metatron had been killed in battle. After Lucifer had been defeated, Michael had used Dean's body as a means to destroy the fallacy that had been leading heaven. Metatron was the most powerful angel anyone had ever come across. Tricking his way into God's throne in heaven, he had kept locked God up somewhere. Only when Metatron was defeated had God been released and restored to his rightful place. Since then, the angels had been brought back in line and had found some morals again.

Metatron laughed. "Not quite…" he murmured, kneeling before the altar. The angel lifted his arms into the air in prayer. Dean kept walking until he was no further than two metres away from him. "You cannot kill something as old as I, nor Lucifer, Dean. Power like that is not erased, just displaced. All your little trick did was pop Lucifer back in his cage."

"Thanks for the update, but I already caught that memo." Dean spat, looking for exits. The walls of the church became blurry and seemed to bend inwards for a moment.

"This place is under my will, Dean. You cannot leave until I wish it so." Metatron stood up, and turned to the eldest Winchester.

Dean felt the waves of power emanating from him, and he couldn't help feeling a little scared. His stomach ached again, and he was vaguely aware of somebody causing pain to him. Dean's heart began to pound, and his head began to throb. "What are you doing to me?"

"Oh, it's not me. Well, not directly. It seems that whenever I hurt her, it hurts you. It's rather quite amusing" Metatron mused, chuckling somewhat. The angel reached under his shirt and pulled out a vial from around his neck. Inside was a glowing liquid. "And this? It took me a long time to find this."

Dean gasped as he realised what it was, and more pain ripped through him. Doubling over, he tried to talk. "Where is she?" He fell to his knees, and clawed at the carpet in an attempt to control the pain that was burning through his chest and stomach.

"Don't worry, Dean. You'll be reunited soon. You just have to tell me where the rest of your soul is. Without your soul, Michael cannot use you as a vessel. And thankfully, another vessel won't be born for another thousand years." Metatron knelt down beside him, a smile plastered onto his handsome face.

"I don't know where it is! I've pretty much been as conscious as a door knob until a couple weeks ago!" Dean said in a strained voice.

The angel waved his hand and flipped Dean onto his back. "I don't really have time to play games. You have until tomorrow to find me the remaining pieces. You will meet me at the place to where the signs are pointing. Tomorrow at dusk." Metatron reached forward and touched Dean's forehead with a finger.

With that, Dean's eyes snapped open and he sat up like a shot, gasping for breath. "Castiel!" He yelled, standing up and looking around him. Adrenaline was pumping through his body like a rocket, and he felt like his heart was going to burst out his chest.

Dean was scared.

Sam and Castiel casually walked through the door, speaking with one another about their victory. They'd managed to find a bit of Dean's soul, and were rather proud of themselves.

"Where the HELL have you two been?" Dean shrieked, rushing towards Castiel and grabbing hold of his jacket. "I've been calling you for hours." He spat, pushing the angel away from him and turning around, tearing at his hair.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked gently, giving Castiel a puzzled look and cautiously walking towards his brother with his hands out. Castiel had assured him that Dean wouldn't be able to wake up from the sleep that the angel had put him in.

"It's Metatron. He wants me to hand over my soul." Dean said quietly, collapsing into a chair with a grunt, and holding his head in his hands.

"Metatron? I thought Michael destroyed him?" Sam looked at Castiel, but noticed that the angel was as shocked by the news as he was.

"Apparently not. He's the one who's been hurting Lirael, to get to me. And I think its working." Dean lifted up his shirt to reveal a multitude of wounds and cuts across his stomach. He sniffed, obviously trying not to show how much pain he was in and Sam winced.

"What did he say to you? I need you tell me everything, exactly as it happened." Castiel ordered, with fiery rage in his eyes.

Sam and Castiel sat around the table with Dean, who told them what had happened with tears in his eyes.

After Dean had finished, they sat in silence, processing the information.

Sam broke the silence first with a cough, and then said, "Baal and Metatron…they're the same person, aren't they?" He questioned.

"All this time…he wanted Lucifer out of the way, so he could rule Hell himself." Castiel proposed, blinking slowly. "How could we not see this? I must tell my father." He said, standing. "I shall return before morning. You must both rest." And with that, the angel disappeared in a whirl of angel wings.

Dean let out a whimper. "Sammy, this is just all too much."

"I know, man. I can't believe he's got parts of your soul. You know, it was probably him who put us on that plane and brought Cas back to life."

Dean sighed, clenching his fists together. "That's not what I mean. I don't want to fight anymore. I thought that after Michael did his business that I wouldn't have to face any of this again. I thought I was done." He tried to take a deep breath, but the wounds on his chest made it difficult, and he groaned slightly.

He could tell that Sam didn't really like what he was hearing, but it wouldn't change how he felt. Dean just didn't have the energy. Ever since he'd regained consciousness and use of his body, he'd felt drained. The only short-term fix for that was having Lirael beside him, or when she restored another bit of his soul. And he hadn't had either of those things for over a week.

"Dean, you can't just give up." Sam told him with a frown.

"Why not? The guy was playing God for nearly a thousand years and no one even batted an eyelid? What chance do we have?"

Sam scratched his head, obviously thinking about what he should say to his big brother. "Well, we have to try. What about Lirael? You want to just leave her there?"

Dean's heart sank when he said her name. Throughout his insides he could feel various emotions wanting to burst out and be expressed, but he couldn't bare the thought of being in any more pain. Instead, it was expressed with anger. He jumped out of his chair and tried to throw a punch at his brother. "Don't you dare talk about her!" Sam parried, and caught Dean's hands before they made contact with his face. With a swift movement, Sam managed to wrestle Dean face down on the floor. Dean wriggled for a few moments, but gave up. "I can't…it hurts too much." He cried, tears pouring from his eyes. He was only too glad that his little brother couldn't see his face. "If she dies…He tried again to wriggle from his brother's hold, but he didn't have the energy. Letting out a short sob, Dean gritted his teeth. He gave in and stopped struggling.

"We're gonna fix this, okay, Dean? We're gonna get you fixed and we're gonna get Lirael back safe, okay?" Sam soothed, letting go of his grip on Dean's wrist. He pulled his brother up from the floor and helped him over to one of the twin beds of the motel room.

As Dean collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion took over and within moments, he was asleep again.