Author's/Underhill's Note: CHAPTER 30, WHAAAAAT!? So, I return with a new chapter, and again, it took longer than I wanted it to. It's getting a bit harder now that I'm veering from season 5 more and more, but I'm having fun so yay! Okay, so, as usual: disclaimers, disclaimers, I don't own anything Supernatural because if so, Cas and Dean would have little adopted angel babies or something. Also: reviewers, I again thank you because you are awesomer than awesome. I think the world of you, and if I could, I'd give you all pie (meringue, totally meringue it is the best). Then there's something else I was gonna say but I'll probably remember it like, at four in the morning when I wake up for like thirty seconds before falling asleep again. ...Where was I? OH! I hope this chapter doesn't suck because I REALLY worry about that, so please review and let me know what you think, or if you find inconsistencies or errors. I always go crazy looking back and being like, where the hell did THAT detail come from. ...I am so tired... And finally: happy new year and stuff! I'm gonna spend it watching Hammer horror and probably passing out and sleeping through it on the couch. Yaaaaay!

April 4, 9 PM, a highway in New Mexico

"You WHAT?" screeches over the phone. Bobby holds the phone back from his ear and rolls his eyes. Of course the damn boy would overreact. "What the HELL, Bobby?!"

"Are you done?" he hears in the background. There's a squawk of indignation before Rufus' voice comes over the line. "Bobby. So you summoned an archangel, didja?"

"Yup."

"He say anything?" What Bobby likes best about Rufus is that he ignores all the recriminations and gets to the important stuff. Anger and resentment are emotions best bottled up for when the world isn't ending.

"Not so far. 'Cept that he didn't know who Lugosi and Steele were, though that was blown out of the water when he started cussin' 'em out."

"Sounds about right. Anything else?"

"Said he wants to talk to Sam. Says he can, quote, end the Apocalypse, unquote."

"… Now that could be useful information. Why does he want to talk to the kid?" There's a muffled voice in the background of the call again and this time it's Sam. Rufus appears to be ignoring him though as he doesn't give up the phone.

"Dunno. Maybe because he's a vessel?" Bobby says it like Rufus is an idiot.

"So? Doesn't make him any smarter." … Touche, Bobby thinks. "HEY!" he hears Sam shout from Rufus' end. "The holy fire still burning?"

"Yeah. I keep putting more down to keep the fire going. Should last for a few more days while we figure out what to do. You fellas headin' back?"

"On the road now. The apartment lead went nowhere."

"Damn. I'll keep looking. See you soon."

"Yeah, yeah." The line goes dead.

"Sam's coming?" Gabriel asks from the other room. Bobby sighs. The thing about the archangel? Is that he never shuts up. Frankly, Bobby's surprised he stayed quiet for the length of the conversation with Rufus.

"Sam's coming," Bobby nods. "Any reason you can't start talking now?"

The angel puts up three fingers. "One: I don't trust you. You're shifty-eyed, my friend. Two: it's none of your business."

"And three?"

"Three is reasons one and two." Gabriel smirks.

"Oh ha ha." Yeah, he definitely reminds Bobby of Dean except Dean's got more people skills.

"I'm only talking to a Winchester," the archangel re-asserts.

"Well there's only one holy vessel named Winchester walking the earth and he's not here right now."

Wrong. One Winchester? More like three, even if the last names don't match. Thus far he's only dream walked in two minds, and they're of the Winchester line. Vessels are always easier to access than regular people - - something in the blood. But that's not why he refuses to talk to Bobby; this is angelic business, best kept in the family.

But he really, really doesn't want to stay in this circle. Holy fire. Ugh. He misses the days when he was known as the Trickster or Loki, and Hunters didn't know about Holy fire or how to read Enochian.

"This would go a lot faster if you broke the circle," he says. "I could zap over to where Sam is, bring him back, we could have our chat, and I'd be out of your hair." Bobby just frowns. "C'mon! I promise I'll come right back!" Bobby's frown turns into a scowl. "Hunters," he mutters. "So untrusting." Louder, he says, "Have any playing cards? We could play poker." The scowl gets deeper. "I won't even cheat." Deeper. "…Crazy Eights? Go Fish? Old Maid?"

"No."

"Have any books? The steamier the better."

"No."

"TV?"

"Broken."

Gabriel blinks. "What."

"TV, it's broke - - "

"- - No Dr. Sexy?"

Bobby huffs and rolls out of the room. The archangel watches him leave with a disbelieving look on his face. 'Lugosi and Steele'? They've obviously left him in hell.

April 9, Noon, Lawrence, Kansas

Walking through this house again is strange for Dean; not because it holds echoes of pain and loss, but precisely because it doesn't. Years in Hell have stripped his attachments to 'home' away. Home isn't a place anymore, home is Bela. All the positive and negative emotions associated to this place are just… gone.

"Huh. How'd you get the owner to let the place go?"

Bela gives him her 'look.' "Are you joking? You told me you worked a case here. Pretend you're normal."

"Not possible."

"Pretend you could pretend to be normal. Would you want to live in a place where one death and one maiming occurred?"

"… At this point I honestly couldn't tell you. My normal meter hasn't been calibrated in… uh… " He starts counting on his fingers before concluding: "Ever."

"That's quite obvious. And that's the point, darling. It DOESN'T bother us. So, bargain house, and it's in the last place anyone would ever look for Lugosi and Steele."

Dean has to hand it to her. This truly is a genius plan. No one, no one, in a million years would expect either of them to be in the old Winchester family home. He smiles. "Perfect."

April 11, 6 AM, Indianapolis - Claire

Claire has more trouble sleeping than ever now, and it's not nightmares or voices that keeps her awake. Now it's usually the cold.

Claire runs her hands over her arms, shivering. It's that early time in the morning where everything gets freezing for a few minutes, and she's hiding in someone's garage, soaking up warmth from their hot water heater.

The last week, Claire has slept in playhouses, empty doghouses, on porch swings and playgrounds. She is surprised she's still alive. But it's necessary, because she has nowhere left to go.

There's a sound in the house and Claire jumps. Time to leave. She grabs her bag and jumps to her feet. She pauses once to savor the warmth before pushing out into the cold.

Seven days ago:

The woman smiles, and it's not her mother.

Claire looks into black eyes.

"Lookie what we've got here," the demon says, starting towards her. It takes one step - - it doesn't get farther.

Claire's been anticipating something like this. She's hoped it wouldn't happen, but she's known since she overheard Amelia talk in her sleep about demons that it was a possibility. So she's prepared. She keeps a mini flask - - a novelty keychain she bought online that can fit in the palm of her hand - - clipped through one belt loop at all times. The moment the demon steps forward, she's got it ripped from her person, open, and - -

"AAAAAH!" The thing screams, holy water splashing across it's face. Claire ducks under its arms and towards the exit.

Her backpack - - fucking finally she finds it - - is by the door and she grabs it as she nearly throws herself from the apartment. Door open, door slammed shut, and she's running running running.

She didn't take the car. Partly because she'd taken a valve from the engine to keep her mom from driving off and never coming back (it's in her bedroom, under the mattress and no help to her now) and partly because the vehicle could be reported stolen in a heartbeat. She takes her bike instead, and the moment she hits the freeway she's flagged down a car and in the next town by lunch. She buys a Greyhound ticket there, and she's out of state limits by nightfall. She's lucky, she knows. So many things could have gone wrong but somehow they didn't. If she didn't know what assholes they really were, she'd say angels were watching over her.

So now she's in a moderate sized town, skipping from house to house while she figures out what to do. She can't stay here much longer, but she doesn't know where to go.

On top of that, her mom keeps texting. She can't tell if it's really her mom though, or if the demon's taken full possession. She should ditch the phone, but…

(Claire where are you?)

(Claire, sweetheart, I love you, please come home.)

She needs to end this. Do what's best for her, she tells herself. It's time to let go. Her fingers tap over her iPhone.

(go home.) With a shaky breath, she presses send.

She waits till she's downtown to ditch her cellphone. She throws it hard into a dumpster behind a seedy looking bar and hears the screen crack. It's over, she thinks. The last vestiges of her old life - - her family - - are gone. She's alone now.

A phone rings. Claire turns slowly. There's a pay phone by the bar. I didn't even know they HAD pay phones still. That's… odd. There's a tingling feeling in her gut. Should I? Claire walks over to it.

She picks up the phone carefully from the cradle. "…Hello?"

April 13, 5AM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam and Rufus don't make it to Sioux Falls for eight days - - a Hunt sidetracked them and they hadn't been able to turn it down - - and in the interim Gabriel has been driving Bobby crazy.

"Finally. Take your goddamn archangel back, dammit!" he yells at Rufus, wheeling himself towards the two Hunters.

"…What?" Sam asks, bemused.

Bobby points accusingly at Rufus. "YOU brought him here, he was delivered to YOU, YOU take him back! Get him out of here!"

"Why Bobby," he says, a hand to his chest, and a faux-wounded expression on his face. "I thought we were getting closer. I thought we had something… special."

"GET HIM OUT!"

"What the hell did he do?" Sam asks, utterly bewildered by the scene.

"He recited episodes of Dr. Sexy verbatim to me until I goddamn left, that's what."

Rufus frowns. "Left?"

"Rolled my ass outside, that's what."

"You left him unguarded?"

"How'd you get down the steps? There's no ramp…"

"You know you like Dr. Sexy, Bobby. You're hooked, admit it."

"SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!" Bobby bellows. "I," he says, pointing at himself, "am going into the study, and none of you damn well disturb me. Rufus, you go get us some whiskey because I goddamn need it right now. Sam, you talk to the angel about whatever the hell he wants so we can decide what to do with him. Clear?"

"Clear," three wide-eyed men say. Jesus, Sam thinks. Bobby can be downright SCARY. "Wait," the youngest Hunter adds, and Bobby nearly wipes him off the map with a look. "Why am I talking to him alone?"

"Because he won't talk with us in the room, and frankly I don't want to look at him anymore."

Gabriel nods. "Listen to the man, Sam."

But Sam can never just listen to anyone. "Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of them," Sam says stubbornly.

The archangel raises his eyebrows. "Really? What if I want to talk about Jesse Thompkins - - "

"Wait, what?"

" - - You know, Jesse Thompkins? You were both in eighth grade, good friends...

"How the hell…"

"That was Chicago, wasn't it? And he was kinda cute," Gabriel says, leaning forward as if to impart a secret.

"FINE!" Sam shouts. "We'll talk alone. Bobby, Rufus…"

"Actually," Rufus says, crossing his arms. "I'd like to hear more on this. Sounds interesting. And Bobby, you did say the TV's still broke."

"Indeed I did, Rufus," Bobby agrees. "Go on, Gabriel."

Gabriel looks positively gleeful. He opens his mouth but Sam beats him to it. "You both suck," he says to the two Hunters and glowers. "Now get out."

Over his shoulder, Gabriel mouths at the older men, "Later." When they start laughing, Sam doesn't ask why because at least they're leaving.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" the angel asks.

"I absolutely hate you," Sam says. "Now what the hell do you want?"

"Not what I want. What you need. You're still looking for a way to kill Lucy, aren't you?"

"Yeah…"

"What if I told you you couldn't kill him."

"No shit."

"…But that you could put him back in the Cage."

Yeah, now Sam's listening.

April 13, 1:20 PM, Lawrence, Kansas

"It was nice of Charlie to fly out again to set up the server," Dean notes, tacking up his 'Hang in there, baby!' poster in their new office. They've got everything set up now.

"It was," Bela agrees. "She's an odd duck, but she's reliable." Dean nods and turns to take in the room.

White walls, slightly scuffed hardwood floors, secondhand desks until Bela orders new ones. It's a lot like the rest of the house, which "isn't finished," according to Bela. Dean doesn't know; he thinks it looks pretty good.

They've painted all the walls and buffed the floors so the place looks like new, and they've reassigned new purposes for all the rooms. The master bedroom is where they 'nest', as Dean calls it, all curled up in blankets in bed. The office is upstairs as well in Dean's childhood room, though the library (which they're rapidly filling with books) is downstairs off the kitchen. They use Sam's nursery for storage, and they've set up a guest room downstairs if Charlie visits. The place, even after they've furnished it with furniture to their style, has a homey feeling. Their pride and joy though is the housewarming present Charlie got them.

"Here," she says, holding out a picture frame in both hands. "I didn't have time to wrap it."

Bela accepts it graciously while Dean peers over her shoulder. Her intake of breath matches his own.

It's a framed photo of Bela and Dean (and Dean has no idea how Charlie took it without their noticing) laughing, her hand patting his head and his arm slung over her shoulders. They look happy.

"I've never had a family photo on the wall before," Bela whispers. Dean understands that; she's never had a family before that she wanted to be reminded of. Dean, though, he remembers pictures lining the hallways of this house and faded polaroids on the Impala's dashboard.

"It's not a bad feeling," he says, reaching out to touch the glass.

Charlie is looking between them, an unsure expression on her face. "Do you like it?" she asks.

Dean and Bela have purposefully kept pictures of themselves off walls before; if there'd been any in the New York loft the jig would have been up the moment Sam and Rufus burst through the door. This, though…

"We love it," Dean assures her, and Bela gives a watery smile and nods.

"Over the mantel?" she asks him, referring to the sitting room downstairs.

He nods. "Sounds perfect." And it really does.

Their neighbors think they're a newlywed couple moving into their new house and they haven't dissuaded them; it's a good cover in case any Hunter does come calling, and it keeps people from looking too closely. The house is under a different set of false names: Bela and Dean Smith-Wesson. The easiest thing to remember, they reason, is what's closest to the truth.

On paper - - and in person, to all the people in Lawrence - - they are normal. Dean just hopes no one looks in the basement; that's where they keep the arsenal.

Bela smiles over at him and he smiles back. "Now," she says. "Let's see if this town has a place that bakes a decent pizza."

"You know, when I was little, there was this one place…"

April 13, 1:40 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Let me get this straight," Bobby says. "Lucifer can be put back in the cage."

Gabriel scowls and nods. "Yes. I still don't think you should be here."

"Get over it," Sam says, and Rufus snorts a laugh. The archangel had lost the argument on whether or not to include Bobby and Rufus. "Apparently we just need the four Horseman's rings."

Rufus barks out a laugh. "Oh, is that ALL?"

"Hey, I don't see you coming up with any better ideas," Gabriel gripes. "At least I have a plan. You have jack squat."

"I have a shotgun, and I might just use it on you, angel."

"Oh, I'm quaking in my immortal boots. Bring it on, dumbass."

"Who you callin' dumbass, dumbass?!"

"Guys!" Sam shouts. "Let's focus here. We have War's ring and Famine's. We're halfway there. All we need are Pestilence's and Death's and we can do this."

"And how do you plan to accomplish that?"

"And how do you plan to get Lucifer back in? Ask him to stroll back into the cage nicely?

"No, I…" Sam gulps. "I have a plan."

"Oh, this is gonna be interesting," Gabriel mutters. Surprising thing: it is.

April 15, 10:02 AM, Virginia

Adam's at a magazine rack again, flipping through a paper. The gas station owner is glaring over at him and Adam knows he either needs to put the paper down or pay for it. He digs through his pocket to see if he's got the change.

A phone rings. The door swings open and close as the only other customer leaves. It's a quiet spot in an otherwise noisy life, one that Adam still hasn't adjusted to.

When he fumbles the change and it falls on the ground to the floor with a clang, he swears. He bends to pick it up and hears, "Hello?" and the phone stops ringing. Down on his hands and knees Adam searches for lost quarters. Ah, there, he just needs to reach - -

The air suddenly feels tight, and Adam feels the hair on his arms stand up with static. "What the…"

"Hey, kid!"

"Not a kid," he mutters, abandoning the quarters and getting to his feet. "What?" he shouts, more than a little pissed.

"Is your name Adam?"

What the… "Yeah?"

"Someone's on the phone for you." The man keeps talking but Adam doesn't listen. He walks over to the man and takes the phone with frozen fingers. He lifts it to his ear.

"Uh, hey…?" he says.

"Adam?" It's a girl's voice, too high to be anything other than a pre-teen or teenager. "Adam Milligan?"

"Yes; and who the hell are you?" And how the hell did she know I would be here?

"The angels are coming for you," she says, which isn't an answer. When he registers her words, though, he frowns.

"What?"

"The angels found you. They're on their way. You need to hide, right now."

"…You are so full of shi - - " The walls start to shake. The tightness in the air turns to a ringing. " - - t."

"You hear that? That's them. Now, they can't sense you, cuz there's something on your ribs, so that's good. But that guy who just left? He works for the angels, some religious cult or whatever. So they know your PHYSICAL location."

"Who the hell ARE you?" Adam asks, his voice breaking.

"I'm Claire, and you need to get the store owner and go into the basement. Okay, Adam?

"Uh."

"NOW, Adam."

Adam looks over at the store owner, whose name tag reads Earl. "Hey, Earl, you have a basement in this place?"

Earl is busy freaking out, frantically trying to get the landline to work as the walls continue to shake. "Yeah, why?"

"Funny story…"

April 17, 7 AM, West Coast

It's drugs that keep Cas asleep now; painkillers make him hazy and he drifts in and out of partial awareness, but he never wakes up. Cas isn't bothered though; he can't remember what it is he's supposed to be doing, so he relaxes in sleep and remembers...

Dean thinks the first time they meet is in the warehouse, but it's not. It took till after Dean was gone for him to recognize the niggling feeling that fact had given him: it had bothered him.

The idea that the defining moment of Cas's many millennia didn't ping on Dean's memory…

A man, wrist-deep in blood, pulling out organs, ripping a woman apart. And the man - - barely still a man, now - - is smiling. The grin he sports is a horror to behold.

This, he thinks, this is who he is supposed to save. This is Dean Winchester.

He thinks there cannot be anything left to save.

But he has his orders; Cas will save this soul, no matter how damaged it is. He has fought through the ranks of Hell to get here, and he will not go back empty-handed. Even as his wings start to singe, he swoops lower, lower, lower into the heat. He reaches out a hand to grab the man's shoulder - -

Everything changes in a moment.

He wanted to matter to Dean. He wanted to mean something. He still does. But that ship's sailed now. Dean is… Dean won't want him anymore.

The fact remains though: Dean didn't remember that moment, the moment he branded Dean and Dean irrevocably branded him as well.

He had remade Dean Winchester's body with his own hands and his own Grace, he knew him as no other had, knew the true brightness and beauty of the man's soul. He wasn't a demon; he wasn't evil. He was hurt and damaged and broken, but Castiel could put him back together. He was Castiel's responsibility. He was Castiel's.

His eyes open.

Everything is bright, everything hurts, and he reaches inside himself with a sick certainty, for the remains of his Grace.

There's nothing. Just an empty hole where it used to be, a hole that will forever mark him as what he was. Cas has Fallen. Cas is human.

But he's awake. Castiel is awake.