Cas, get your ass over here.

It was funny, Cas reflected, that had they still been in Purgatory he would have ignored the prayer as he had hundreds of others. Now, hearing—feeling—the urgency in the words, he turned abruptly away from Kevin and headed back into the room, ignoring the teen's mumbled, "Uh, where are you going?"

Inside, John was lying on his back on the tiled floor. Blood from his nose had streaked his face and cropped beard. Dean was on his knees beside him, checking his pulse with one hand, the other resting on the top of John's head. He glanced up when Cas entered, gesturing for him to join him.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, kneeling.

"I don't know," Dean said, his voice tight with worry. "He just… got a nosebleed. Then he said 'it's him' and he fell."

"He said what?" Cas squinted his confusion, and his distrust. He had never forgotten the possibility that John might be other than what he claimed to be. Or that something else (someone else) might be using him to get at the Winchesters.

Dean took a sharp breath. "I don't know, Cas. Can you help him? Can you tell what's wrong?"

Cas rested a hand on John's forehead, but aside from the man's unconsciousness and a few burst blood vessels in his nose, he couldn't sense anything unusual. Slowly, in response to Dean's request, he sent healing energy flowing through John's body. The blood on his face cleared and the vessels in his nose closed, leaving him simply looking pale and tired. He was not yet at full power after a year in Purgatory and their trip through the portal, a fact he hadn't seen fit to mention to Dean yet, and the simple effort left him feeling a little lightheaded.

"I sense nothing," he told Dean. "Whatever happened, he does not seem to be injured. Why he's unconscious... I'm not certain."

Dean took a breath, and when he spoke he sounded very young. "Is he gonna wake up?"

"I don't know," Cas said grimly.

His little nod made Cas feel a rush of sympathy. "So can you tell what the hell is wrong with him?"

Cas placed his hand on John's head again, his eyes closing as he concentrated on sending his power throughout John's body, each muscle and nerve and vein, seeking. "No," he said after a moment, opening his eyes and looking at Dean. "I'm sorry."

"Damn it," Dean muttered. He was watching his father with a hawklike intensity, and shifted closer to him, as if he could will him to wake up that way. He grabbed John's hand and held it tight. Cas wondered what he was feeling, for he could only imagine what it must be like to see one's father felled so suddenly, and so inexplicably. "Damn it! Cas, get Sam, we've got to -"

Then John's eyes fluttered, and Dean stopped midsentence.

"Dad?"

"…Dean?"

John was blinking blearily. To Cas, he looked utterly exhausted. Cas thought again about what he'd said - it's him - and wondered how much John remembered.

"I'm here, Dad," Dean said, giving Cas a look that said plainly, Stay back.

"I'm on the floor," John noted.

"Yeah. Are you okay?" Dean asked. "You remember what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm all right, son." John squinted, appearing deep in thought. "But I don't remember... Just you and Sam telling me about... about Mary…" he trailed off, his face twisting slightly. "Had a bitch of a headache. Got worse, then..." he shrugged, his shoulders sliding on the tile floor.

"How do you feel now?" Dean asked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," John said.

"So the headache's gone?" Dean prompted.

"Well, not exactly," John said, starting to roll over to sit up. Dean was behind him, helping him, immediately.

Cas was thoughtful. Dean's near panicked reaction had made one thing clear - Dean was more convinced than ever that John was his father. Enough so that he was willing to disregard John's highly concerning, and possibly damning, words.

"According to Dean, you spoke before you lost consciousness," Cas said. He would look out for Dean. and for Sam, even if Dean was unwilling to acknowledge that simply by being here John was a threat. "Do you remember that?"

John looked startled, the expression quickly morphing into one of unease. "No," he said, glancing at Dean, who still had one bracing hand on John's shoulder, accusingly. "Why didn't you say something about that?"

"Dad, I friggin' thought you were..." Dean started defensively, then deflated. "You said, it's him. You got any idea who 'he' is?"

"No," John said, struggling to sit up straighter. Cas was satisfied to see that he, at least, looked deeply disturbed. "Is that all I said?"

"Yeah," Dean said apologetically. "That's it."

John looked deep in thought, as if running in his mind through all the possibilities of who "he" might be. Cas had been doing the same. An obvious answer was that it had something to do with the demon they'd captured the night before - perhaps, whoever the demon had been about to report to. Or whoever had led the demon revolt against Crowley. But Cas was aware of no demons aside from Crowley who had remained major players after the fallout from the apocalypse. Of course, it was possible that one had risen to power while he'd been Emmanuel or while he'd been insane, and this possibility would have to be looked into. Of course, it was always possible that it wasn't a demon at all. Few beings had captured the demon's attention like Lucifer, after all. But Lucifer was safely locked in the cage, and Cas couldn't imagine how or why he might've found a way to John to get to John before John had gone to Purgatory. In Purgatory, of course, there were leviathans and other creatures who might have sought to use John as a means of escape. But who would John refer to so specifically? Him. It's him.

"It's okay, Dad," Dean said. "We'll figure it out. You want to, you know, lie down or something?"

"I'm fine, Dean," John insisted again, irritably. He was chewing the inside of his lip with worry. "Sam'll be back soon and we still gotta go."

Dean swallowed, concern written plainly on his face. "You don't want me to get him? Tell him what's going on?"

"Nah," John said. "Tell him when he gets back."

Dean just nodded.

Sam returned a few minutes later with Kevin, who had remained outside. John had moved, brushing off Dean's helping hands, to the room's one cushioned chair. He sat with his head in one hand, and exhausted and woozy. Dean had gotten to work stuffing some of Sam's things into a duffel bag. They'd spoken briefly about what had happened, and what John's words might mean, but neither Dean nor John had had any better ideas than Cas had had. They all supposed, uneasily, that they would just have to watch and wait.

"Hey, guys," Sam said hesitantly, taking in the tense atmosphere, and John's slumped position, with a furrowed brow. "Is everything okay?"

Dean and John traded glances. It occurred to Cas that for all their disagreements, they were far closer to one another than either was to Sam, at least at the moment. It didn't matter than Dean had clearly been glad to see his brother, or that John and Sam had hugged their greeting. Both, it seemed, were rejecting Sam along with rejecting his "normal" life, and keeping up a unified front against the youngest Winchester. At the very least, keeping him apart. Cas wondered idly if this was how it had always been for the Winchsters, when Sam had been young and still dreaming of college and the life his mother had wanted for him, while Dean had followed doggedly in his father's footsteps... or perhaps it was new, a result of the time Dean and John had spent together in the purifying wasteland of Purgatory. In either case Cas found Dean and Sam's lack of camaraderie unsettling.

"Weirdest damn thing," John said after a moment in an almost languid tone, as if he wasn't terrified at the notion of speaking words he could neither remember nor understand. "This headache I been having turned up to eleven, then I passed out. Still feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly, dropping the armful of stuff he had brought over and going to John.

"Yeah," John said, smiling slightly. Even to Cas, who had found it hard to read human emotion on the best of days, it appeared strained. "I'm fine, son."

"All right," Sam said doubtfully.

"He also said it's him," Cas added, irritated that both Dean nor John were being so reticent about it. John was clearly afraid, making him unwilling to discuss the source of that fear with his sons. But Sam should have been the first person to whom Dean went about something like this. It was, again, unsettling that he hadn't. "Before he passed out. We don't know what it means."

Sam's expression of worry somehow managed to intensify. "'Him'? That sounds...really ominous."

"Could be anyone," Dean said.

"God knows there've been plenty of hims I've had a grudge against over the years. And we got no way of telling which one this is," John said. At the others' doubtful expressions, he added, "Not saying we forget about it. But right now, we gotta get out of here. We'll figure this out later. Sam, Dean's started packing you up. Now get the rest and let's get moving."

"Dad, you can't just - " Sam was looking to Dean for support, but Dean was avoiding his eyes. "There could be a spell to find this out. I've got a bunch of books on Purgatory in the trunk, maybe there's something there? We can't just ignore this."

"Sam, we gotta go," Dean said, in what was becoming a familiar frustrated tone, though his expression had softened a little at the revelation that Sam at least had books on Purgatory. "Something's going on, and the demons know we're here, and that puts your girlfriend in danger. You want to be research guy, go for it, but do it on the road."

Sam's lips had pressed together, but after a moment he nodded. "Yeah. I'll do that. In the car. But I am not letting this drop, Dad."

"Yeah, all right, son," John drawled, letting his head tip back against the chair back. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Won't let it drop."

An hour later, they were on the road, with plans to head toward an old cabin of Bobby's friend Rufus. Dean took the wheel, one of the first genuine smiles that Cas had seen since their arrival back home spreading across his face as he slid into the leather seat, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine grumble to life. Cas was glad to see it. Sam took the passenger seat with a melancholy expression and a glance back at the motel as soon as they pulled out, opening his phone for a few seconds before closing it again with a sigh and opening one of the books he'd pulled from the trunk. Though he and John had not resumed their conversation about Amelia, Sam seemed resigned to do what his family wanted...at least for now. That left Cas, Kevin, and John to squeeze into the backseat. Somehow, Cas found himself in the center seat, stiffly watching the road between the two front seats. Beside him, John leaned against the inside of the door. He looked haggard, the circles under his eyes pronounced, and his face had begun again to tighten into the pained expression he'd worn for hours before his mysterious episode. Kevin sat uncomfortably, seeming unsure of why exactly he was there. He had mentioned wanting to see his mother, but Dean had responded that now wasn't the time, and he'd fallen into a sullen silence...at least for now. Cas had wanted to offer to check on her, but he still felt worryingly drained from his healing of John, and wasn't entirely sure flying into what was likely a demon trap would be a good idea.

The miles fell away behind them. The landscape was vastly repetitive, the long highways cutting through rolling hills of bushes and sandy dirt. John and Sam and Dean talked intermittently, catching each other up on what they'd been doing over the past few years, but the conversations were short and awkward. Cas said little, aware that he was an outsider here. He knew that Dean had forgiven his betrayal enough to search for him in Purgatory, and he'd seemed interested in rekindling their friendship, at least for a little while. But Dean had also been angry and distracted since they'd left Benny in Purgatory, and Cas was unsure whether Dean thought it was at all his fault. If Cas had remained behind, after all, Benny could have ridden in Dean's arm and they would have had no such problems. But if that was confusing, he had absolutely no idea where he stood with Sam. The younger Winchester had been polite to him, but had hardly seemed happy to see him. And he, too, had been distracted and upset since they'd returned.

As he sat staring at the long stripe of highway ahead of them, trying not to worry that he no longer had a place with the Winchesters, Cas thought about what John had said, but reached no satisfactory conclusions. It could have been a demon, or something else. It could have been one known to John, or perhaps some other force had made him say "it's him" with such familiarity. Whatever the case, Cas resolved that he would find the answer. ...As soon as he wasn't quite so cramped in the backseat of the Impala with no way of actually learning anything.

"How 'bout some tunes," Dean said gruffly after about a half an hour had gone by in silence, thumbing the radio on and turning the dial. There were apparently few options in the wide, empty Texas desert, and he settled on the first song that came in clearly and wasn't pumping a dance beat.

—you who are on the road, must have a code that you can live by, and so become yourself because the past is just a goodbye...teach your children well, their father's hell did slowly go by—

It was the first music that John had heard in years, and Cas watched as his face shifted from a sort of melancholy nostalgia to a smirk as the words filled the cabin.

Dean let it play, apparently unaware of the effect it was having on John.

—and you of tender years, can't know the fears that your elders grew by, and so please help them with your youth, seek the truth before they can die—

John snorted with laughter. "Tryin' to tell me something?" he said to Dean, who perked up, confused at first, then seemed to realize what John meant at —childen's hell will slowly go by.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, then grabbed a tape and stuck it in. A grinding sound filled the cabin (Cas recognized it vaguely as something called Metallica that Dean claimed to enjoy).

Though he didn't stop his reading, Sam looked genuinely amused.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence between the passengers, broken only by intermittent conversation about necessities such as stopping for food and gas, until darkness began to fall outside. They worked their way through several tapes. Dean seemed unwilling to trust the radio again, though John dozed off not long after, apparently drained from his experience.

In the driver's seat with one hand resting at the top of the wheel, Dean appeared, if not quite relaxed, then far more at peace than Cas had seen him since they had returned to Earth.

Sam had pulled out his cell phone again, the blue glow illuminating his face and creating an eerie reflection in the passenger side window. Cas watched as he typed into it, then stared at his doppelganger in the window, then typed some more. Dean glanced over but didn't comment.

Around nine, Dean pulled into a motel. Its sign featured the Utah Arch—one of father's more impressive creations, in Cas's opinion—though Cas had no idea if they were even in the vicinity. Otherwise, it was indistinct, as far as motels went.

"We'll get an early start tomorrow," Dean promised, stifling a yawn.

No one answered.

After rousing John, who seemed no less exhausted despite his several hour nap, they checked into two rooms. Dean and John would share one, while Sam and Kevin would share the other. Cas had offered once more to watch over them while they slept, prompting a roll of the eyes from Dean, which was more upsetting than Cas particularly wanted to admit even to himself. Cas had often watched over them in Purgatory. Though he knew he still had a ways to go before securing Dean's trust again fully, he had thought that such an offer would be welcomed here, where demon stalked the night and something - or someone - was clearly using John to some nefarious purpose.

"I'm gonna check the perimeter," Dean said, after they'd retired to their rooms, salted the doors and windows, and warded them against demons. Sleep had been a luxury in Purgatory, not a necessity, and Dean seemed determined to fight it here for as long as he could, though he was practically slurring his words with exhaustion.

Cas had originally joined him and John in their room, himself determined not to let John out of his sight. At which point John had excused himself to shower, somewhat thwarting his plans. Now, he looked over Dean worriedly, taking in the pallor of his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Perhaps you should rest. I can patrol the motel."

"Nah. Stay with my dad," Dean said, glancing at the closed bathroom door, where the spatter of the shower could be heard. Perhaps he was more worried about John's cryptic than he let on. Or perhaps, he was simply worried about John. "Won't be out long."

"Very well," Cas decided after a moment. "But you should...take care of yourself, as well."

Dean's face slipped into a crooked smile. "Yeah, thanks. I will."

He patted him on the shoulder as he left.

Cas had to suppress a sigh. He missed the easy camaraderie they'd once had. Before John, before Purgatory, before Cas had betrayed him and played God and lost everything. Dean's causal motion had been a reminder of that, and Cas imagined that he could feel the skin tingling under the fabric of his coat and shirt where Dean had touched him. It was a foolish notion.

John emerged soon after Dean had left, damp and wearing a T-shirt and Sam's old sweatpants, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Hey," he greeted Cas.

Cas nodded his hello.

"Dean went out?" John glanced around, as if to be certain they were alone. As soon as Cas had assured him that Dean was patrolling the perimeter of the motel, John straightened up and said in an abrupt tone, "I wanna know what you know."

"What I know about what?" Cas squinted at him. In their earlier discussions, Cas had made it clear that he knew nothing about what had happened to John, nor who he might be, and he had already shared all of his hypotheses.

John sighed and settled onto one of the beds to sit. "Mary."

Cas tilted his head. "What I know?"

"Look, I know there was more," John asked, frustration edging into his voice. "More than my boys told me. You're an angel. You knew all about our 'bloodline' when it came to my boys being vessels, and you took them back to meet her, didn't you? They won't tell me more and that's fine, this isn't something I can talk to them about anyway. But you, you know more than you let on and I want to know."

"I'm not sure I should..." Cas made a vague gesture. He knew there were things that Dean did not want John to know, and he had no desire to alienate Dean any further. Nor did he want to upset Sam. He needed to regain the Winchesters' trust... his Winchesters' trust.

John looked up at him, then after a long moment, one corner of mouth turning up. "You're loyal to them."

"Yes," Cas said. "Of course."

"It's all right. That's not a bad thing," John said. He sounded too tired to argue. "You're a good...angel. Or whatever. My boys did all right with you."

"Thank you," Cas said, a little unsure of himself. Dean had seemed barely interested in his friendship since John had returned, aside from that one conversation overlooking Kermit, and Sam too had seemed too preoccupied to deal with him. Cas had told himself that that was all right; that the Winchesters had always preferred his company when they needed him, and that such a time was sure to come around soon. It felt odd to hear John of all people compliment him on his friendship with them. But it wasn't exactly a bad feeling.

"Uh huh," John said, moving back onto the bed and pulling the covers up around himself. "I'm calling it. G'night, angel. And - "

Whatever John might have said, however, was cut off by a deep, bloodcurdling scream outside.

Cas met John's eyes. "Dean," they said at the exact same time.

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! I tend to use my somewhat limited fanfiction time for writing rather than replying to messages, but I really do appreciate every single one. You guys are awesome.