A/N: Sorry again for the wait. Life's keeping me running, but I'm continuing to chip away at the story as swiftly as I'm able. :)

Just to be safe, more spoiler alert warnings for many various random factoids and references dealing with Supernatural seasons one - six. Had to reference a fair amount of SPN history and lore in this chapter for the explanations to make sense, there was no helping it. Oh, and big high five and a smile to everyone who recognized our newcomer just by description. ;D

CHAPTER 14 - "Angels and Answers"

"Cass! No!" I heard Sam's urgent voice in the distance, just audible over the roaring in my ears. I wasn't sure who he was talking to, but some part of me was glad to at least know that he hadn't been one of those screams I'd heard before. I felt like I was sinking into a sea of light. It was beautiful and terrifying and I had almost hit my limit, the excess energy beginning to burn through me when I couldn't spindle fast enough any longer.

Then I saw Trent over my assailant's shoulder. The blessed, stupid elf hadn't run. His much too pale face was set with cold anger and a ball of green magic was burning in his hand. "Let her go!" he shouted as he slammed the spell into my attacker. The magic detached from Trent and transferred to his target at the elf's touch. Trapped in place, gazing at the man holding me, I saw familiar green tendrils spread out and spark across his skin. I recognized Trent's elven magic-eating curse.

I'd seen demons dropped by less, but the man in the trench coat was still standing. He'd felt this one, though. His gaze jerked to Trent, his serious expression registering a flicker of both surprise and pain. His brows furrowed as if in concentration and his eyes became even more piercingly blue - glowing almost. The spreading green tendrils of the spell paused, then began shrinking and dissipating, either stopped by a silent counter-spell or perhaps simply not up to the task of penetrating the man's formidable defenses. But at least he'd registered the hit and as his attention shifted to Trent and countering his attack, I felt the paralysis leave my body enough to enable me to throw myself sideways, away from the touch that was killing me.

I hit the ground and ended up sprawled on my side. Gasping for breath, I tried to get my arms under me, but I felt as strong and coordinated as a wet noodle. From where I lay, I saw a long, thin, stake-like blade flick into existence in trench coat man's hand. It was an unusual looking weapon, but he held it like he knew how to use it. "Trent ...!" I wheezed, wanting to tell him to run. Having tasted the man's power, I didn't think this was a battle we could win and the elf was already in a bad way. He shouldn't have been using magic at all, crap, crap, crap!

I heard the crunching rustle of someone running through the thin stand of trees behind me. I think both Winchesters were shouting from varying degrees of nearness, but my ears were ringing and I couldn't separate the sounds or hear very clearly over the rapid pounding of my own heart as it throbbed in my temples. The power I'd spindled from the man in the trench coat was burning in my brain, hurting like clutching a piping hot mug without a drink sleeve. I couldn't hold onto it. As much as I wanted to try to use it to fight, I was instead forced to release the power in a painful rush, flushing it out before it could do me damage.

Trent seemed aware of the seriousness of the situation, but I could tell he had no intention of fleeing. The damn cookie maker looked half an inch from passing out, but he already had another ball of green in hand, gaze warily tracking his opponent's blade. His arm was cocked and ready to deliver, when Dean arrived.

"Damn it, stop!" the hunter shouted and I gasped as he threw himself bodily between Trent and the stranger. He placed a staying hand on trench coat man's chest and grabbed Trent's wrist, heedlessly pushing the two very dangerous men apart like they were children squabbling on a playground.

Whether they liked it or not, I knew the Winchesters still needed us alive, but I could have sworn Dean was trying to protect the newcomer as much as he was trying to protect Trent.

To my surprise, the man in the trench coat stood down almost immediately at Dean's command, the blade in his hand quickly lowering when the hunter got in front of it. Trent wasn't able to react quite so quickly. I knew from having been in Trent's mental spell book that once this kind of magic was kindled it had to find a target or it would turn painfully upon the one who had conjured it. Despite that, I saw the elf instinctively try to abort and yank the spell back when Dean got in the way. It scared me, because I didn't think Trent could survive taking his own curse in his current condition. In the end, it didn't matter because his attempt came too late. The spell had already crested and when Dean grabbed Trent's wrist he unwittingly provided it with the contact it needed to transfer. The curse detached, latching onto Dean like an angry horde of sparkling green snakes slithering up his arm.

Dean started and swore, releasing both men and shaking his arm urgently as the sinister looking sparkles spread rapidly outward. "Son of a bitch!" He ripped his jacket off as if it was on fire. When that did nothing to get the magic off of him he swatted at the dancing lights on his arms and chest like they were bugs. He was clearly unsettled and alarmed but the fact that he wasn't on the floor gasping in agony was a good sign, or so I hoped.

"Dean," trench coat man's voice wasn't emphatic enough for me to classify it as alarmed, but he did look worried ... and he knew Dean's name. I was suddenly getting the feeling that this altercation had been a giant screw up.

"Dean!" Sam's voice on the other hand, was distinctly alarmed as he came rushing onto the scene a moment later, making a beeline straight for his brother. He grabbed Dean's shoulders to still his brother's frantic movements and splashed him with water from his silver flask as if either trying to put out a fire or possibly counter the spell. It wasn't a bad idea, although it would have been a better one if he were using salt water and if it had been an earth spell.

"What did you do?!" he demanded of Trent, still gripping his brother worriedly. The sparkling was already beginning to dissipate. The spell had run its course, thankfully not appearing to have left Dean very much worse for the wear.

Trent was a different story. He was down on one knee, struggling for breath he couldn't seem to find. He looked up at Sam and Dean and shook his head. "He's fine," he managed to get out. "The spell disrupts one's ability to use magic. Your brother is not a magic user, therefore it did him no harm." Despite the obvious effort it was taking to speak, the elf's words still carried an air of cool, almost arrogant authority, as if he'd known that all along. I knew he hadn't. I'd seen him try to take the spell himself instead of hitting the wrong target. Apparently, Trent was just good at sounding like he knew everything.

I finally got my arms under me and leveraged myself up off the ground as quickly as I could manage.

"Yeah? Well, try to watch where you're aiming, buddy," Dean growled as he shook Sam off and picked up his jacket, still shaking tingles out of his arms. His tone was annoyed, but not actually threatening and that was a bit of a surprise. I had a feeling that he would have had a much more severe reaction to having been hit with any kind of magic under other circumstances. It was obvious to everyone that Trent was doing very poorly and the hunter appeared inclined to take that into account.

"I wasn't aiming for you. You got in the way," Trent retorted icily, bowing his head as he rested his arms on his bent knee and coughed silently.

I picked my way over carefully and crouched beside him, placing a gentle, worried hand on his back. His coughs were wet and Trent's body was trembling despite his facade of control. I bit the inside of my lip, feeling sick all the way to my toes. He shouldn't have used magic again, much less such a powerful spell. Guilt throbbed in my heart like a dull, crippling ache. You shouldn't have done it, Trent. Not for me. Not when you knew what it might cost. I didn't understand how Trent could be so practical one moment and so reckless the next.

Dean's expression continued to hover somewhere between irritated and concerned. He clearly wasn't sure what was and wasn't normal for Trent and I, and whether he should be worried about the elf's condition or not. "You were going after Cass," he half explained, half accused instead, jerking his head towards the man in the trench coat who was still standing silently a few feet away.

Trent's head came back up, his expression hardening. "He was trying to kill Rachel."

Dean huffed incredulously.

"Um ... he kind of was, Dean," Sam put in as if to keep the argument from escalating. "I saw them through the trees, after Cass zapped the other two. I think there was a misunderstanding." Sam's gaze switched to me. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I said with a grimace. My voice came out hoarser than I expected as I found it curiously difficult to make it work properly. "I love having someone try to flambé my head from the inside out." I rubbed soothing little circles against Trent's back while glaring at them.

Dean's gaze flicked to me before it turned questioningly on the man apparently called Cass.

Cass was looking at me curiously again. He seemed largely un-phased by everything transpiring around him. He appeared neither apologetic nor defensive when his attention shifted back to Dean. "She has the appearance of an abomination," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Albeit, a strange one. I did not realize you wished her spared."

The insulted jolt of anger that speared through me went a long way towards burning off some of weakness I was feeling.

"Excuse me?!" I snapped, my free hand clenching into a fist at my side. My tone dripped acid as I glared at this man who I had never met before and yet somehow decided he had a right to start calling me names after trying to kill someone he didn't even know. "And just who are you, to go about making decisions like that, jackass?"

The man in the trench coat looked at me steadily, not reacting to my tone or anger. His dark hair was short and a light dusting of stubble brushed his chin. His blue eyes were curiously intense. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Whatever I'd been expecting, that wasn't it. I glanced towards Sam and Dean but the Winchesters seemed unperturbed by both my anger and Cass or Castiel's unusual pronouncement. I gave a startled snort of incredulous laughter. "W-what? Is that supposed to be a joke?" I demanded, getting a strange, uneasy feeling that bordered on both awe and fear, because looking into the strange man's eyes, it didn't feel like a joke.

"No," Castiel said evenly. "I have been told my jokes are not funny to humans." He said it sincerely and without a trace of irony.

I leveled a flat glare at the two Winchesters. "Is he for real?"

Sam shrugged a nod and Dean grinned. "Oh yeah, Cass is the real thing. Bona fide dick with wings," the insult was said with a certain fondness that took all bite out of it. Dean's mood seemed a bit improved from earlier and I wondered if that was because they'd won the fight, or because the angel was here. Considering the low regard with which the brothers seemed to hold everything supernatural, it was a little surprising to find them so comfortable around this obviously not human being.

Castiel gave Dean a look that was either long suffering or faintly amused. At least it proved that he did do some expression other than blank and terrifyingly intense.

An angel?! I was still trying to wrap my head around that and I realized I was staring at him like an idiot, although it did not appear to be making him uncomfortable. Maybe he was used to it, or maybe he just didn't care.

"I didn't know that angels existed. Not ... well, like that, anyway," Trent murmured beside me, voicing my thoughts.

"Yeah, you live and learn, right?" Dean was rubbing his ribs again. His face was battered and bleeding. Sam had a blossoming black eye and didn't look much better. They both looked about as rotten as I felt, so when Dean's expression shifted back to flat irritation as his gaze fixed on us I could kind of understand where he was coming from. "Although sometimes the learn part doesn't come fast enough to enable the live part. Are you two freaking nuts running off like that?! What part of demons might be after you did you not understand? Oh, and Bobby is not happy about what you did to the panic room. What were you thinking?"

I frowned up at him, surprised that he honestly didn't seem to understand why we'd run. "We were thinking that you were going to kill us as soon as you didn't need us anymore," I said, opting for honesty. "Look, the truth is I like you, I want to think you're the good guys, but we've been watching you two drop bodies ever since we met you. You carted us across four states and locked us in a cell, Dean. One that was practically suffocating Trent. What did you expect us to do?" My tone was flat with incredulity. "We were afraid okay? You kind of scare the crap out of us!"

It was almost amusing how much that notion seemed to set Dean back on his heels. I had a sudden feeling that they hadn't quite seen the situation in the same manner that we did and that their idea of normal behavior must be hopelessly skewed.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head with a regretful little grin. "Yeah... I guess from your perspective we're the boogey men, huh?" he was joking, but his tone wasn't light.

I shook my head. "No. I get what you're doing, I do. You protect people, and I respect that. We were just afraid that you may not understand that not everyone who isn't human is out to hurt or kill people. We're not your enemies, we're not," I said earnestly.

The hunters were hard to read, but whether or not they believed the principle of the thing, I think they did believe that I believed it and meant what I said. I hoped so, anyway.

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, look, this is all kind of a mess, but we'll figure it out." Rubbing his face wearily, he turned back to the angel. "Speaking of messes ... Cass, man, we've just about given up calling you because you never answer, now you pop up to help gank a few demons? What's up? Where you been?" the older hunter inquired, as if it were perfectly normal to grill an angel on his whereabouts.

Beside me, Trent shifted to both knees, settling wearily on his heels and hugging himself again. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, silently praying that he would be okay, that we could get through this. I looked up and found Castiel's intense blue gaze on me. There was something vaguely unnerving about it, like he knew what I'd just been thinking. The strange feeling only lasted for a moment, however, because his gaze almost immediately turned back to Dean.

The angel's expression shifted just enough that I would consider it weary, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You know where I've been Dean. The war in heaven continues to go poorly. I'm here because certain sources informed me that the Winchesters were in possession of a one-faced demon, and that a group of renegades had escaped hell without leave, seeking this demon for reasons I could not ignore. Obviously, they must have been referring to her," he nodded at me.

I realized everyone was looking at me again and resisted the urge to sigh. Oh joy.

"One-faced demon?" Sam asked in curious confusion. "What does that mean?"

"And why the hell are they so hot for her?" Dean added.

Aindrea too had commented on me having only one face, and by now I was beginning to get a pretty good idea of what they meant. Castiel confirmed my suspicion.

"Demons possessing humans have two faces. Their true face and that of their host. Humans can only see the host, but most of the rest of us can see their true faces. This woman has only one face, meaning her body is the one she was born with and belongs only to her. They want her because they believe she is a cambion, a rare half-demon born from a possessed mother, imbued with both demon powers and a human soul."

That sounded like a lot of weird to me, but Dean and Sam reacted with a level of surprise and alarm that told me they didn't like the idea at all.

"No way, you're kidding me!" Dean said, frowning. "You're telling me she's like that Jesse kid? He turned you into a freaking action figure, man. I don't think she's anything near that powerful."

"He was only that strong because Lucifer was on earth at the time," Sam pointed out. "Cambion aren't that strong otherwise, right?" he glanced at Castiel for confirmation.

"As far as I'm aware, that is correct," Castiel concurred.

"So then why do the other demons care? And what's with this "renegade" business?" Dean pressed. "What the hell are "renegade" demons? Sounds like the name of a biker gang."

I was following about one tenth of this conversation and the rest of it was going right over my head. I was tired and hurting so much it was hard to keep my head clear or focused, but that wasn't really the issue. I felt like I was missing out on too much history to make sense of everything they were saying, but I was following the main drift all right. I wasn't sure I liked it. I wasn't this cambion thing they were talking about, but I wondered if they'd believe me if I told them that. I absently rubbed Trent's shoulder as I held him, hoping this wasn't leading us all back into bad territory.

"They are renegades in the sense that they are at cross purpose with the majority of the current demon agenda," Castiel supplied. "They are after her because they believe it is possible that if brought within enough proximity, a cambion may be able to open Lucifer's cage." His statement was even and factual. The Winchesters' reactions were anything but.

"Whoa, what, and re-start the whole apocalypse over again?" Sam asked tensely, appearing both incredibly disturbed and angry about the idea.

"Yeah, how about a big no to that idea?" Dean said with terse sarcasm. "Been there, done that, bled all over the fucking tee shirt. So no thank you on the re-run. Seriously?!"

I was trying to decide if they meant a literal or figurative apocalypse. Considering they were talking about Lucifer like he was a person I had the wildly disturbing notion they were being literal. My body was throbbing, my cuts starting to burn. Exhaustion felt like a lead weight that was increasing in gravity as it pulled at me. This world was frightfully screwed up and bizarre. I ached to be home.

"You are not alone in that opinion," Castiel agreed. "Many of the other demons want her dead to prevent the possibility, which is likely why it was brought to my attention in the first place. No doubt they hoped I would take care of it for them. I'm already fighting a civil war in heaven trying to prevent a new apocalypse. If she really were a cambion, or even if they just think she is and word gets around, the angels will soon be after her as well, either to kill her or use her. My side would be the kill her side," he added parenthetically, as if for clarification.

Wow, was I ever not liking the sound of all this. "Well that sucks," I voiced my opinion, but no one seemed to care much what I thought.

"Wait, you said if she was a cambion, is she or isn't she?" Dean pressed.

Castiel gave me an appraising look, head tilting slightly to the side again as he appeared to do when he was thinking. "No, she's not, although I can see why they thought so. I had a similar misconception at first glance because of the darkness around her. Her soul is shrouded in black, but it is not black at its core. She can use demon power although her handling of it is quite curious. However, it is impossible for her to be a cambion because she could be touched by my grace and survive. She could in fact absorband contain it and no demon of any type can do that. Grace is anathema to them." His gaze on me was curious again. "How did you do that, by the way?"

I was still trying to absorb the fact that for some reason he was actually saying I wasn't a demon and it took me a moment to realize the last question was directed at me. "Um, I spindled it," I said as soon as my sluggish brain caught up. "It's like a pattern I create in my head that lets me store energy. I can usually handle a lot, but your magic is ... extra hot." I shrugged, too worn out to come up with a better way to put it. "I couldn't hold onto it for long," I admitted. I wasn't sure why I was being so honest with him, but maybe I was almost as curious about the whole thing as he was and there just didn't seem to be any point in lying. I had a feeling he'd know.

"Of course not," Castiel with a small, matter-of-fact nod. "Angels aside, all the creatures of creation will burn if subjected to enough grace, but that's very interesting." He returned his gaze to the Winchesters. "I don't know what she is, precisely," he concluded. "But she smells of Avalon, like her companion," he nodded at Trent. "I believe they are both some type of fae."

That surprised me more than a little. Trent, sure ... but I'd never had anyone consider me fae before. We didn't really use those terms, but my perception of what pre-Turn people would have considered fae were the races like elves, pixies, fairies, leprechauns and maybe even banshees, but certainly not witches or demons. I looked at Trent in surprise, but the elf's head was down. His weight had settled against me during the conversation and he was now leaning against my side, kept upright only by my body. I could still feel his labored breathing, but realized he'd been quiet for a long time now. My concern returned full force. "Trent?" I asked softly.

To my relief, Trent lifted his head sluggishly. He blinked unfocused eyes at me with a faint smile. "Yes, I heard, he considers us kin," he murmured hoarsely. "I think he's right, actually. From their perspective, at least. Funny, isn't it? The way distinctions that seem so divisive to some people can melt away to nothing from a different point of view." I agreed with the last sentiment, even if I didn't quite understand the rest of what he meant. Trent was clearly drifting and not entirely lucid.

"So, that means she couldn't really open the cage then?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately, no," Castiel shook his head. "They are most likely still right about that possibility, even if they're wrong about the reasons why. The magic of Avalon is wild, unpredictable and very powerful and it is only accessible to the children of Avalon. The ones who are strong enough to be interesting are also powerful enough to protect themselves when they are outside their realm. It is why both demons and angels generally leave them alone - we do not interfere with them and they do not interfere with us." His gaze settled on Trent and I. "But these two are different. They cannot draw on threads of Avalon freely, which makes them vulnerable, yet they have the innate capability to do so which makes them dangerous. Their very existence creates a threat we cannot ignore. They should be removed from this world as swiftly as possible."

Dean and Sam exchanged troubled glances behind Castiel's back and I felt my stomach give a hard little lurch.

"H-hey! Wait a minute!" I protested, feeling angry, afraid and sad all at the same time. I didn't want to have to fight these people. I liked them, damn it! Not to mention that in our current conditions I put our chances at pretty much nil.

I felt Trent stiffen against me. He was barely able to breathe, but his cold hand slid silently into mine. My heart raced in anguish. This was a lose-lose situation and I knew it. There was nowhere for us to run, and Trent was too weak. He was already hemorrhaging internally, missing God knew what vital bits of himself that had been taken as sacrifice for our actions. If we had to fight again it wouldn't matter whether we won or lost. Either way, he would die. If he wasn't already dying.

I pulled my hand from his and wrapped my arm around his hunched shoulders instead, holding him protectively to me. I wasn't going to fight. I couldn't use Trent as a conduit again without killing him, and that wasn't going to happen, even if it meant we were both damned.

"I'm not opening any damn cage for them. Hell, I wouldn't open a pizza box for them. Come on, are you kidding me? I'd die before I start any freaking apocalypse!" I said harshly, battling tears. "Have we done anything other than try to help people since we met you?! It's not our fault they're after us! We just want to go home." I was too wrung out to deal with this crazy yo-yo ride of trust and betrayal anymore. The injuries I'd sustained were taking their toll. I felt sick both mentally and physically. My head was swimming and my eyes burning. Just because I could do terrible things didn't mean I would do them, but it seemed like no one ever believed that. It didn't matter how many times I risked my life trying to do the right thing, no one ever believed I could be anything but bad and dangerous. It was like the stupid elves back in the woods all over again. I was so sick of this shit I could cry.

Dean moved forward and I tensed instinctively. To my surprise, however, he moved to stand protectively in front of Trent and I. "Whoa, Cass, hang on. Not so quick with the smiting talk. If anything happens to them, Sam could die ... and Rachel's right, the big ol' hole in Bobby's panic room notwithstanding, they've pitched in on the right side of things when they didn't have to, more than once. There's gotta be some other options here."

"We can't kill people who haven't hurt anyone just because they might be used as weapons," Sam agreed. "If they're both fae, can't we just do like we were thinking before and send them back to Avalon? They'd be safe there, wouldn't they?"

Castiel cocked his head to the side with a puzzled, somewhat exasperated expression on his face. "You misunderstand me. I was not suggesting we kill them, although that would certainly be one solution. I meant they literally should not remain in this world. They're not from our Avalon, Sam," he said as if that should have been obvious. "They're not from our reality. They belong in a different reality, on a different earth, one that has followed a separate tangent from ours."

Sam and Dean's expressions became confused while I felt myself loosen with relief.

"Oh. Right," was all I could think to say. I'd have felt more stupid for jumping to conclusions if the Winchester's hadn't had the exact same misapprehension. I was starting to get the feeling that the angel came across the way he did simply because he wasn't terribly good at communicating in a human manner.

"Wait, wait, wait - a different reality?" Dean interjected incredulously, his questioning gaze on Castiel. "You mean they're from that place where we're TV actors? I thought that world didn't have any magic."

It was my turn to look totally confused as I tried to puzzle out that nonsensical statement. I was beginning to have to resign myself to the idea that there was a lot about this world and these people that I'd probably never know or fully understand.

"No, not that one," the angel corrected. "There are multiple realities out there, Dean - many beautiful and unique versions of earth created identical but allowed to follow their own separate paths."

"So ... you're saying God went Octomom with the creation mojo and we've been road tripping with a couple of Slider wannabes?" Dean summarized.

Castiel looked at Dean steadily. "I don't know what that means, but if you mean they are from one of the versions of earth which has evolved considerably different from our own, then yes," he said simply. "It's why they can't properly harness the magic of our Avalon and why they do not fit the rules of our world."

"You mean like how they can be fairies, but don't react to silver or anything like you'd expect?" Sam asked. I thought they were all taking the revelation rather in stride, but then, they saw a lot of weird on a daily basis. After only a few days with the Winchesters I was almost ready to think my life was tame by comparison, and that was saying something.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. His gaze leveled on me. "They have evolved with different sets of weaknesses and strengths, and different terminology, I assume. That is why she thinks of herself as a demon, although I call her fae. It's an issue of semantics, really. Despite certain similarities, what they call demon is not the same as what we call demon, nor do they have the same origins. This is likely true of most of their non-human species."

I was more than a little startled that he seemed to have been able to pull that information right out of my head, not to mention that he'd figured out so much about what we were and where we were from in the, what, five minutes since we'd met him? Angel, I reminded myself with a little shiver.

"Our vampires sure are different," I agreed slowly, trying not to feel too unnerved.

"I wonder why that is? I mean, if all the earths started the same, how could they end up so different?" Sam said thoughtfully, obviously quite interested by this concept.

"I would speculate that there was some catastrophic event early in their history that involved their Avalon, such as it being destroyed or broken somehow," Castiel supplied, apparently not grasping the concept of a rhetorical question. "That would have caused significant changes to their earth in many ways. Rather than remaining apart from humanity, their fae races would have inter-mingled with humans and the other earth-bound supernaturals, irrevocably altering the evolution of all species on their planet." His almost unnervingly intense blue gaze turned back towards Trent and me. "Would you say that is accurate?"

I blinked at him. Despite all the recent talk, I still had no idea what Avalon was to them. It made think of a kind of Eden or something ... a broken Eden ... understanding lit suddenly through me. Apparently, it hit Trent about the same time. "The Ever After," I heard him murmur with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," I replied slowly, the pieces starting to fit together in my mind in a surprisingly unexpected shape. "There was this big elf and demon war thousands of years ago. It broke a lot of things, including the Ever After, which could have been kind of like your Avalon, I guess. It certainly had a big impact on the way magic works in our world, anyway," I added, thinking about the ley lines.

"Plus, the elves and demons both cursed each other, wreaking havoc on their respective races genomes for countless generations," Trent added, his voice low, but audible. "Apparently, none of that happened here."

Castiel nodded as if all that was pretty much what he had suspected.

Dean just shook his head, looking restless and bored by all the theorizing. "Okay, so whydidn't you tell us this in the first place?" he wanted to know.

"Um... we didn't think you'd believe us?" I admitted. "We kind of tried back at the house. We told you we were thrown here by that failed assassination attempt and then you were talking about other dimensions and Avalon and we weren't sure if we were just using different words for the same thing or what ... that's sort of been happening a lot since we got here."

"Yeah, reality hopping is a bitch," Dean made a face that suggested personal experience, something that I found both odd, and curiously hopeful. If they had in fact been to other realities and returned... Hope surged raw and almost painful in my chest.

"But the good news is this is actually something we know how to do," Sam said, as if mirroring my thoughts. "I think I still remember the spell Balthazar used on us. We'll have to see if Bobby has any lambs' blood and lesser-saint bones on hand; then we can send them home the same way, right, Cass?"

"Partially correct," Castiel informed them. "The spell has to be worked by an angel in order to succeed."

"Well, good thing we got an angel, then." Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "Come on, let's do it."

"Dean, it's not that easy." Castiel was looking tired again.

Dean frowned at him. "Why not? Balthazar blew us to Oz like it was nothing."

"Yes, because he didn't care where he was sending you. There's a targeting component involved. It's relatively easy to open a random portal to the nearest reality. It's much more difficult to open a portal to a specific reality, particularly without any knowledge of where to begin looking for it. There are literally millions of realities Dean, and it is not as if they have an indexing system."

"No multi-verse Google, huh?" Sam said wryly. Castiel just looked at him blankly, obviously not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Then how come I seem to recall that Raphael found the reality that Balthazar sent us to pretty damn quick?" Dean wanted to know.

"Once a portal has been opened, it creates a temporary scar in the ... " Castiel paused, gesturing vaguely and seeming at a loss for a word to adequately translate whatever concept he had in mind.

"Fabric of space time?" I offered helpfully. Trent's head had come to rest against my shoulder and I felt him snort softly against my neck, apparently amused that I was feeding sci-fi terminology to an angel.

"It encompasses much more than space and time, but that analogy is moderately accurate," Castiel inclined his head slightly. "Those scars can be used to trace recent connections between realities. That is how Raphael found you, and how Balthazar or I would have traced you down to retrieve you if he had not."

I was fascinated despite myself. I wondered if it was kind of like creating temporary ley lines.

"We have only been here a few days, can you not trace the scar we must have left on our inbound journey?" Trent asked, lifting his head and regarding the angel with as much focused intensity as he was capable of at the moment. His usually musical voice was so hoarse, it made me bite my lower lip. The discoveries and answers we were finally finding were all well and good, but I was getting anxious to hurry things along. If we couldn't go home right away, then I really, really needed to get Trent to a hospital.

"That is precisely what I intend to attempt," Castiel confirmed, nodding at the elf. "But since you were not transported here by an angel, the appearance of the scar will be unfamiliar to me, which will make the process more complex."

Speaking so much apparently hadn't been a good idea for Trent because he started coughing again, curling forward in my grasp. I bent forward with him, rubbing his back again although there was precious little I could do to ease the pain he must be going through.

"Yeah, but you can do it, right?" Dean cut to the chase, his words directed at the angel but his gaze on Trent as he crouched down in front of us. I saw the hunter try to hide a grimace as the motion strained his broken ribs. His injuries were not slight and Sam's probably weren't either. Up close like this, I could see that Dean's eyes were unevenly dilated and his scalp still bleeding from the multiple head blows he'd taken today. I realized that like Trent, he was good at putting a mask over his pain.

"Yes, of course I can," the angel responded, perhaps just a touch tetchily. "I am simply saying that I need a little time to find the trail. Time isn't exactly something I have in abundance at the moment. I am leading a rebellion as you may recall," he added with what I swear was a hint of dryness. "However, moving these two beyond the reach of both heaven and hell is important and I will make it a priority."

Dean was only partially paying attention to the angel as he reached down and tipped Trent's chin up. "Hey ... hey ... you okay?" The hunter asked quietly, frowning in alarm when he got a look at the blood trickling from Trent's nose and being coughed into his hand. Clearly, he hadn't realized the true seriousness of the elf's condition until that moment. I had, or should have, and I felt both guilty and stupid for not treating Trent's condition with the immediate urgency I should have. I should have pressed them to get him medical attention as soon as it was clear they weren't meaning to kill us. I was processing everything a little too slowly and it was possible that my own head wasn't as clear as I had thought it was in the wake of the beatings I'd just taken.

Trent was incapable of answering around his coughing and Dean swore quietly, his gaze going to me for explanation. I held Trent's shoulders as gently as I could, my agonized gaze meeting Dean's over his hunched form and possibly telling him more than my words did. "We used too much magic," I whispered, feeling raw. "It's bad, really bad. He needs help, right away. We've got to get him to a hospital."

I started trying to struggle Trent up, but Dean's hand on my arm stopped me. He gave his head a little shake, his eyes holding a deeply pained, stoic sympathy that I didn't want to see as his gaze shifted to where the elf was practically coughing up his insides, blood bubbling helplessly down his chin.

"He won't last that long," Dean said with quiet urgency, his tone holding the dreadful, weary certainty of someone who had seen symptoms like this before.

The words froze my blood, but I wasn't about to accept the prediction, I couldn't. Before I could protest, Dean shifted away from me, looking back towards Castiel with an unspoken request on his face.

I didn't see the angel move. He was several yards away one moment and standing right in front of us the next. I jerked reflexively, craning my neck to look up at him. The angel wordlessly reached down, touching two fingers to the side of Trent's temple. Trent stiffened and I tensed up protectively, recalling my own previous experience with being touched by this man. This contact only lasted a few moments, however. His hand slid away again and Trent's head jerked up towards him as if in shock. He'd stopped coughing.

"You should take care in the deals you make. You might be able to survive with half your lung capacity and part of your liver, but I do not believe your species was meant to function without kidneys," the angel observed matter-of-factly, holding Trent's gaze for a moment.

Reaching over, Castiel touched the same two fingers gently to Dean's forehead. Dean started and gave him a little smile, like he hadn't been expecting that. The angel's expression didn't really change, but I thought his eyes kind of smiled back, just a little.

I was so busy trying to figure out what was happening that I didn't realize the angel had reached for me next until I felt the light, brief pressure of his fingers against my cheekbone. A shuddering wave of warmth tingled into me from the contact, a soothing magic that spilled through me like a hot bath on a cold day. I sucked my breath in sharply at the unexpectedness of it.

"Wha-?" I started to ask, but Castiel was already a few paces away, having just touched Sam's forehead as well. He lingered a moment, tilting his head to look at Sam as if noticing something different about him. He looked back over his shoulder towards me and appeared to find the answer to his own question. I couldn't be sure, but I had a feeling he could tell that Sam was wearing part of my aura. If so, he didn't remark upon it.

"You should all return to the salvage yard," he said instead. "I will be back as soon as I am able. Do not let anyone take them," he added, the last injunction directed towards the Winchester brothers and obviously regarding Trent and I. Then the angel was gone. I didn't see him leave, he was simply there one moment and gone the next.

The Winchesters seemed used to the abrupt nature of the angel's departure. Dean rose to his feet, stretching in a way that suggested it was nice to be able to do so without pain. "Come on, we should get moving. No telling whatever other nasties have the word on you being here already," he said, his gaze and words directed towards Trent and I.

I looked at Trent with instinctive concern, but the elf was already wiping blood from his face with his sleeve and rising to his feet, shaking me off as if embarrassed that everyone had seen him so weak. I rose as well, a little surprised that the motion didn't hurt like it should have. My cuts weren't burning anymore and the ache of my bruises had disappeared. Sam's black eye had vanished and I realized that beneath the blood on Dean's face, his injuries too were gone.

I had a pretty good idea of what had just happened and relief coursed through me, almost dizzying in its intensity. Despite knowing that Dean was right and we probably were still in a lot of danger, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. Still, I caught Trent's eyes, needing to be sure. "You okay?"

"I appear to be perfectly fine," Trent said simply before turning away, apparently well enough to mildly resent my concern. I felt a flash of irritation, but then I considered that maybe his terseness was more of a reaction to his trying to deal with what had just happened. Thanks to Al, I'd experienced healing magic before. The closest Trent had gotten previously was when I fixed his fingers and that was a little different. The angel's magic hadn't felt like Al's, but I thought it had felt pretty good. Trent didn't like being vulnerable, however. Having been yanked back from the edge after being so close to death probably had him a little off-balance.

Misreading the source of whatever he saw on my face, Dean gave my shoulder a reassuring pat, nudging me into motion at the same time. "He'll be okay now. Cass fixed him, he can do that."

I gave him a little smile as we all walked back towards where they'd left their car. "Yeah, I gathered that," I said wryly. "You certainly have interesting friends."

A/N: See, finally a non-cliffie for you. I can be nice ... sometimes. ;D However, don't think that because they've found a way home they're out of the woods just yet. Getting them back to their own world will not be the end of this story. There are a few twists yet to come ... perhaps some of the most difficult they've dealt with yet. 0:)