Author's/Underhill's Note: So this is a fast update to make up for how long it took to put up the last one. First, I hope it's not too boring, because I worry. Seriously, let me know. That's the thing I love the most out the fanfic community - - it's a COMMUNITY. I like when people tell me what they liked, what they could do without, etc. Advice is good! This is a learning experience for me. Second, thank you reviewers! I adore you! If I could bake you cupcakes, I totally would. Third, disclaimer on using conversation from The Song Remains the Same; it all belongs to CW and the writers and Eric Kripke. The only thing I own is original plot. Fourth... uh. There's a fourth, I swear there was a fourth... Uh. Well! Just remember that this is the second update of the day so read that one before this one!

Chapter 11

For Cas it starts just outside the brothel, the night before they confront Raphael. Dean pulls him through the door and into the alleyway just before he bursts out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asks.

Dean has his hands on his knees as he bends over to catch his breath.

"Oh nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard."

For the first time since he met him, Castiel sees a look of joyousness on the Hunter's face, and deep in the pit of his stomach he WANTS.

It's a foreign feeling to him, one he's only observed in humans, and it takes him a while to realize what it is.

He silently begins to freak out.

He's not supposed to want things. He's not supposed to feel. He is told he was made to obey and he has faithfully followed that tenant. Until now. Until Dean.

In the car he watches the different emotions flit over Dean's face and resists the urge to touch. To touch Dean's face, his hair, to run his fingers over Dean's smile. Without waiting for Dean to finish talking, Castiel flies away.

Feb 4, 225 Industrial

225 is a warehouse and Anna is unhappy to see him. She is very clear about that. Honestly, Cas isn't pleased to see her either.

"You want to help?" Cas asks. He doesn't believe her for a second; she's got a blade behind her back.

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing with that knife?"

She pauses to gather herself and argue in a new direction.

"I'm not allowed to defend myself?"

"Against whom? That blade doesn't work against angels. It's not like this one." He brandishes his own blade. "Maybe you're not working for Heaven, but there's something you're not telling me."

She says nothing for a long moment, then:

"Sam Winchester has to die."

Castiel listens as Anna presents her argument. She has a point, he hates to admit, but that doesn't matter. He's failed one Winchester, he won't fail the other.

Feb 5, New York City, New York

"So suck it."

Dean fires.

A few blissful, unbelievable moments pass, then:

"Ooowww."

Dean freezes. Lucifer is back up, staring right at him.

"That hurt. You're proving yourself to be more trouble than you're worth, Dean." He looks thoughtful and Dean's insides knot. "Maybe another forty years in the basement might do you some good."

"Wha-?" Sam gapes. He doesn't look like he understands, but Dean's brain has already caught up.

Lucifer smiles. Lifts his fingers next to his face. "Time to go back now, Dean."

Sam screams. Lucifer snaps his fingers. Sam blinks once and Dean's down.

There's bright light, hellfire, oh god it's - -

The dream goes still, like someone hit a pause button. Dean blinks and blinks again. "What the…" He's had this dream almost every night since he's been back but this? This has never happened before.

"Hey there, Dean."

Dean wakes up on a gasp.

Every time he startles out of sleep now, he's half-convinced he's still covered in blood. After that initial panic melts off, the next panic attack ensues as he wonders at the unfamiliar bed he wakes up in. Plush, sod, giant, and with white silk sheets - - nothing like the scratchy, dubiously stained motel beds he has always been accustomed to opening his eyes to. Then he rolls over and finds a tangled mess of brown hair next to him and remembers where he is. New York. Bela's loft.

Safe.

A week ago? A week ago wasn't safe, though he thinks he handled it well enough.

They're outside an abandoned barn, in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. "Ready?" he asks Bela, each of them with guns drawn on a different side of the door. She nods. She's not ready, but no time like the present.

The door bursts open as Dean kicks it in without checking to see if it's locked, in true Winchester fashion.

It's about as Dean expects, looking like any other witch cult den he's crashed. Dead animals hanging from the walls, the smell of burning herbs, and a big altar in the center with ten women bowed before it. They all whip around at their entrance. The only thing not expected?

Half these women have black eyes.

"Oh son of a… Bela, exorcism!"

He doesn't look to see if she's following orders or glaring indignantly at his audacity - - he charges forward, gun blazing.

Two of the women (humans) flee immediately through a back door. One of the demons looks between them, the back door, and the altar, before following the two women out.

The four remaining demons snarl and dash for him. He shoots two right off the bat in the kneecaps so they go down, incapacitated. He hears Bela start chanting behind him.

Two of the witches are grabbing the Cornucopia - - a giant goddamn horn laying on the altar - - and trying to run but seem to be having problems coordinating their movement. The third witch goes after Bela.

The demons are fast and Dean's gun is knocked out of his hand in an instant. A black-eyed bitch with blonde hair and pale skin snarls in his face while the other holds him in place.

"Dean and Bela, fancy seeing you two here."

The demon strokes Dean's cheek in an affectionate manner and Dean shivers. It's too reminiscent of Hell and the demon knows it.

"Escaped the Pit only a month ago and already dying to jump back in."

Dean grits his teeth and doesn't respond. He's trying to break away enough to grab his knife on his belt. The demon behind him laughs in his ear as the blonde one in front of him keeps talking.

"We know what you did, Dean." Not listening, not listening, Dean tells himself. "We know what you LET them do." Not listening, not listening, not listening.

"Did you enjoy it, Dean? Did you like it when - - "

The demon behind him screams and lets go. Bela is there, her own knife sticking out of its throat. "How about you, bitch? Did you like THAT?" she asks. Dean leaps for the wide-eyed blonde in front of him as Bela starts the exorcism again. This has just become personal.

They'd both been a little green around the gills after that, shaking and touching each other's faces and arms to ensure themselves that they were still there and whole. After? They'd found the nearest diner and ordered plate after plate of pie. Nothing calms the nerves like pie.

Especially meringue.

"Breakfast!" he hears from the other room. He sighs and rolls out of bed to make his way to the kitchen. Bela is sitting at the kitchen counter sipping a cup of tea. There's no plate in front of her, and nothing cooking on the stove.

"Uh… You said breakfast?" He scratches the back of his head and yawns.

She grins smugly. "Yes, once you make it. Two eggs for me."

"Oh you did not just trick me into making you breakfast."

She takes another sip of tea. "And toast, too. I like mine a little burnt."

"Oh, I'll burn it alright," he mutters, padding barefoot around the kitchen. He grabs the eggs from the fridge and grabs a pan. Despite his grumbling, the domesticity is nice after their first job. It's calm, quiet, and birds are chirping outside the window.

It was both satisfying and disconcerting getting back into the "antiquities" game, but the Cornucopia has been sold now and the paperwork has been filed in their brand new file cabinets. He cracks an egg and glances past Bela at their new workspace.

Bela's sitting room has been converted into an office, much to her chagrin. Gone are the settees and end tables and in are the twin mahogany desks and filing cabinets and the poster Dean hung on the wall of the cat captioned "Hang in there, Baby!"

"Anything on the schedule?" he asks. He stirs the eggs and starts humming quietly to himself. After a week organizing finances, he's ready to get back out there.

"Actually, I might have a job…"

"Oh, really?" He shovels some eggs on two plates, the most burnt ones on Bela's, and sets one down in front of her. "Shoot."

As she speaks, the end of his dream fades away.

Zachariah is pleased, considering. Anna has "escaped" and is undoubtedly creating chaos for Sam Winchester. It's important to keep him and the rebel angel busy and away from the truth.

They're keeping Dean Winchester's escape on a need to know basis - - only the higher-ups and not the foot soldiers - - and they only meet in certain people's dreams for security.

Meanwhile, they have started prepping Adam Winchester. Just in case Dean turns out to be a disappointment (or they can't find him) they have to get the third brother ready, toughen him up. Zachariah smiles a nasty smile. He has the perfect idea.