When Dean entered the motel room, Sam was exiting the shower. He jumped slightly when he spotted Dean. One look at his older brother told Sam everything and there was a sheepish smile that he flashed him before proceeding to dress. Dean knew he had questions. And he wasn't completely inclined to answer any of them.

"So," said Sam rather pointedly.

"I'm not gonna talk about it with you," said Dean, annoyed. "There's nothing to talk about...Tell me what happened? Did you end up going back in the sewer after all?"

Sam slipped on jeans in the meanwhile and he buttoned them up, turning to Dean. "No, we hit the books. Just like he wanted to. But he did seem to find something out. I was almost half asleep when he rushed out without a word. You know Dad, if he's all in 'Eureka!' mode, he's not going to sit and explain anything to anyone until he finds out he's right."

Dean rolled his eyes in remembrance. "Yeah. Hope he found out some good news. For once, I'd like to hear, 'Found the demons' stronghold, and I nuked it."

"Yeah, that's going to happen," said Sam sarcastically. But as he pulled on a shirt, Dean spotted that sly grin on his face again. "So...Where were you last night?"

"Godammit, Sam," Dean growled. "Nowhere, okay? I was just walking around."

"All night," said Sam, blinking at him. "All right."

"Shut up," said Dean snappishly. "But actually, there is something I have to tell you."

He made to approach Sam and barely got his mouth open to issue sound before the door opened behind him and in walked John.

John's eyes swept over Dean in a quick, searching sort of look. Almost as though he was trying to x-ray look at him and see if he could see through everything to evaluate his injuries. Vaguely, Dean wondered how he even knew about what happened, if he did at all...but the look on his Father's face said he knew everything...How? How? There was a slight rim of panic in his eyes as he met John's gaze and the infinitesimal shake of his head as he wordlessly told his Father not to breathe a word of what he knew in front of Sam. It wasn't that he didn't want to show weakness in front of Sam...it was just that the attack seemed to single Dean out as the one they were looking for.

I have come for you, my liege.

Clearly a demon who had lost his mind...but he obviously didn't seem to think so. And he didn't need Sam worrying about that...or chastising Dean for spending time with Cas rather than them for protection. The two of them obviously didn't know what Cas was and likely never would.

John deigned to respect Dean's wordless request because he stood in the doorway for half a minute before his expression turned slightly grim and he addressed Sam and Dean as a whole.

"I'm leaving tonight," said John.

"What?" Sam stared at him. "What do you mean, 'leaving'? What's going on?"

"I found a lead. That activation site we found, Sam. That wasn't the only one. There are many...all over the country. I've been led to believe the one we saw was likely the second to last one...There's one more. I have to go to that site as soon as possible to prevent the ritual."

"It could already be started," said Dean pessimistically.

"Dad, let's go with you," said Sam.

"No," said John firmly. "And no, Dean..It's not started. There's still some time if I hurry. These things...generally tend to take place at night."

"The last one didn't," Sam commented.

"This one is different...I think we'd feel it if it was activated," said John, and Dean couldn't help but notice that he glanced at him when he said it. "anyway...I will not be needing your help...I'm taking someone with me."

"Who?" Sam all but demanded.

His question was answered instantly. A figure suddenly loomed behind John in the doorway and to Dean's shock, it was Castiel. His stance was all cool and collected, leaning against the edge with his arms crossed.

Castiel looked different now that Dean knew what he was. Less like a man and more like what he truly identified himself to be, an angel. Standing midst all of them, he seemed to stand out the most. It was a typical bad boy look, the look that said that he didn't really give a damn about anyone's opinion and he was going to do what he was going to do, regardless of who it displeased.

He acknowledged Dean with the slightest of nods and yet Dean was still undergoing internal shock at seeing him side by side with John of all people. It was such a stark contrast. Not just in real living color, but in Dean's life as a whole. For lack of a better term, it was like seeing rebellion stand with order. That's what the two represented in Dean's mind. John representing balance ..and Cas now representing defiance.

Sam was staring at Castiel open-mouthed. "Wow, Dean. He looks just like your drawi-"

Dean made all but a divebomb for Sam, staggering into his brother's side in his attempt to muffle him, his hand clamped tight over Sam's mouth. "Hey."

Castiel didn't directly acknowledge that. He didn't know the measure of what John knew, and he hoped it wasn't much. He looked at Dean, surely...but that was it.

But how did they know each other? He was burning to ask that.

John seemed to address his thought. "Castiel is a formidable..hunter. I met him a while ago on one of my solo hunts. He's going to be accompanying me."

Dean dropped his hand from Sam's mouth. His head inclined at Castiel, another wordless exchange. How? Time and time again, he had been told of how much he looked like John and vice versa. Was that why he...?

"You know each other?" Was all Dean could manage to say. "I mean..You know...from the past?"

"On a past hunt," said John rather dismissively. He seemed oblivious to what was happening to Dean or what was so obviously happening in front of him. "But he's very..skilled. I'm taking him with me."

"Dad...How about we all go? I mean, what if it's the same amount of demons like before? You're going to need backup," Sam told him, and his gaze flickered to Castiel. "I mean...your friend looks tough...It's just that maybe you'll be better off with Dean and me too."

"Yeah, I agree," said Dean quietly.

"I'll be fine," said John in that same light tone. "He saved my skin a few times...and it's only a matter of time since I returned the favor."

So they met each other multiple times. Dean didn't know why that angered him.

"Dad-" Sam began to argue.

"No buts, Sam. We're leaving tonight," John answered. He turned in Castiel's direction. "Wait outside."

Dean watched him. He gave Dean a long look before going. Dean wasn't exactly keeping it hidden, how annoyed he was, how angry. How sudden. They spend a night together and the next day, he was running off...with his Father. How bad did that look? If Dean looked like he didn't understand it, it was because he honestly and truly did not. But the look Castiel was giving him said that he was pretty set on going...and nothing...Nothing Dean could say could convince him to stay.

Castiel mouthed the words in parting, just for Dean.

"I'll come back for you."

But the next words felt like they were being spoken inside of Dean's mind and he instinctively touched his temple when he heard Castiel's voice echo inside of him. "I promise."

He could have said something in return, but he had a vague feeling that it wouldn't matter. That he wouldn't hear him.

He didn't know why he felt like something was going to happen. Castiel had proven himself before. He didn't know if John knew of Castiel's true nature. He certainly couldn't tell when he first saw him...and he pretty much doubted that John Winchester was a believer like Dean had to be in order to see it.

Castiel turned his back on Dean after a long minute and Dean was left in a room where he felt strangely alone even though physically he knew that John and Sam were still there, talking to each other, talking among themselves.

John caught his attention. Abruptly, he was in front of Dean, a hand on his shoulder, gripping in a rather firm manner to call his attention back.

"Dean...I want you to do something for me," said John.

Dean slowly looked at him in the face. "Take care of Sam. I know. I always do."

"No," said John. "No...I mean...yeah, do that...but...something else too. I want you to always remember that...I may not always say it...and I know you need to hear it more often."

John sighed, frustrated and then released Dean to dig something out of his inner jacket pocket. A white envelope that he pressed into Dean's palm. "I've never been good at these things. This letter kind of expresses it a little more. I don't want you to read it unless I don't come back."

"Dad, don't talk like that," Dean grunted.

"I don't know what's going to happen...But I'm hoping it goes well...So I guess when I come back, you can rip it up into pieces," said John, waiting until Dean took the letter so he could drop his hand.

"Dad," Dean murmured. He had never seen his Father behave like this. Never. He was usually brave or he put on a brave front. It scared him. Dad wasn't supposed to start breaking. "Dad, let's go with you. We can back you up. We can help."

And he did the surprising thing Dean had ever seen. He put his hand on Dean's face, touched his cheek and searched his eyes. "You're my son, Dean. Always remember that, for me. You're my boy."

"Dad...Cut it out...this sounds weird," Dean remarked, uncomfortably.

John chuckled. "I know. We'll talk about it later, all right?"

"Yeah. We will...Cause this is so...ugh," Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to go alone...Either of you. I mean...he...looks like he can take care of himself... But yeah...I guess. Just get back fast, all right? There's a victory party waiting for you."

"I look forward to it," said John, gripping Dean's shoulder one last time. He went over to Sam to say his brief goodbye too, pulling his younger son into a hug, exchanged a few words before turning from him and heading out. Dean stared at the letter with his name written on it.

The obvious part of him knew that if he got angry later on in reflection, he might have ripped it open. But he'd keep to what John requested. If he didn't come back...then maybe then. Or maybe he'd never get a chance to read it. The temptation to chuck it out was very very strong.

So he folded it and put it into his back pocket where he felt some resistance where the drawing of Castiel was. He pushed them both down deep and turned to Sam with a sigh.

"I'm hungry. You hungry? I want some pie," said Dean rather forcefully.

It was to Sam's credit that he detected Dean's need for a distraction but didn't pull him out of it. "Yeah...I could go for a bite. Let's go."

Balthazar usually didn't like being awake in the morning. In fact, since he required sleep, he much preferred being asleep until mid afternoon where he could avoid Castiel's judging looks and condescending tone. But this was special. After the argument with Michael and Castiel, he found it hard to fall asleep.

He decided to buy a coffee which was a poor substitute to his usual drink of choice these days.

Balthazar was just through buying a small one(with Castiel's money of course) when he turned and found himself face to face with two women. One black-haired, one blonde-haired. Young. Early twenties, more than likely. Probably college.

Now, Balthazar didn't copulate for fun. He did it to pass the time. When he found himself face to face with this situation, he usually had to be intoxicated for him to make a move. And he was far from intoxicated right now. So naturally, his default expression was a grumpy one.

"Can I help you?" Balthazar asked rather pointedly.

"Hi there," The dark-haired girl said with a friendly smile. "We're actually hoping you could help us. We just got here off the morning flight. We're looking for the nearest transit."

She pulled out a large map of the entire Chicago metroplex that Balthazar could only eye with disdain. She smoothed it out on the nearest table and Balthazar really had no choice but to follow. She addressed him. He was involved now.

"So I see the part where it says you are here. We just bought this from a vendor. Didn't speak English of course," She flushed with some annoyance. "So I know...relatively where we are...But we need to get to the nearest train station."

"Where are you trying to reach?" Balthazar sounded annoyed, even to himself.

"Well, nowhere in particular," The girl replied. "Just trying to you know...use the train rather than a taxi cab. Seems universally cheaper."

Balthazar bit back the reply that said that a taxi was actually cheaper when someone knew their destination. But he held it in check. Trains, cabs...cars...These were methods that Balthazar should have heeded a while ago, but he was still lamenting the loss of wings.

"Taxi cabs are cheap if you know where you're going," Balthazar ended up saying out loud, taking a sip of hot coffee. "Sorry. I can't help you. I really need to be going now."

"Wait," The blonde one spoke up. "Wait. Maybe you can help with something else."

"Jess," The black-haired girl muttered reproachfully.

The blonde strode over to block Balthazar's path, which made him growl underneath his breath. She started to dig something out of her bag, digging deep. He heard the jingle of car keys and sounds of shuffling paper.

She pulled something out. "If you haven't...that's fine...I'll just keep asking. I'll keep looking...but if you have.."

"Random stranger," said the black-haired girl.

The girl named Jess pulled something out. A photo. She thrust it towards Balthazar with a card underneath it. Balthazar saw brief glimpse of color before he fully planned on pushing the picture back and calling her crazy. Because she probably was. Who did that? To a random stranger.

He glanced at the picture and froze.

It was Sam. Sam as he would remember him had he last saw him in human form. As it was, that was far from the case. By no fault of his own, Sam had been sired by Castiel. Balthazar knew when he descended from Heaven that the objective was to apprehend Castiel. He knew that Castiel had gone rogue at that point, worked with the Fallen Dante and planned on killing Sam. For the sole purpose of raising Dean from Treachery. He was someone Castiel loved, so he had to die.

This picture showed Sam in true happiness. His arm around this girl who had the photo. There was no way this could be edited. No one could falsify a look of pure joy like that. He wore a letterman jacket, representing his college and the girl- Jess- was leaning on his shoulder in comfort and love. Both smiling. Both happy.

Sam Costigan was too involved in all of this. From the very beginning, he was pulled in unwillingly. He wasn't human, he was more cosmic energy than human when he first started...so they said. But his last form was human and that made his life just as precious as any other human life. Even now, with Michael's built up fabrication, it was another lie.

Better the truth then?

This girl was proof that there was a place Sam belonged that was not here. Not intermixed in a war with angels and demons that would never cease. Not around people that were a constant reminder that it all existed. He knew too well darkness and evil existed and that he had encountered it first hand. He had to die for it.

His mind had been tampered with too much. And he may have been the only person Balthazar felt sorry for worse than himself.

Balthazar turned over the photo and looked at the greeting card instead. "Greetings from Chicago" was what it said on the front with a picture of the city inside the letters. On the back there was no return address, just cursive lettering spelling Sam's name.

It wasn't hard to guess who wrote it. Dean would be as angry as she would that Sam's mind had been tampered with yet again...but of course Dean's mind was tampered with too. That left only one.

Carmen, the Queen of Hell.

So many times in Hell, she had brought up he unfairness of the situation, the uncertainty. After Michael had left with Dean, she lamented over Sam being turned human and thrown back to Earth without a clue. She lamented over not knowing where he was and hated herself for not being in a position to protect him or see him. She loved him, that much was obvious.

And she had brought this girl here. This was her handwriting, no doubt. She had brought this girl here for Sam. To jog his memory...or have them together again, who knew.

It was selfless and Balthazar was slightly baffled by such a profound act from a demon. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to judge.

"This is Sam," He finally said out loud, taking that long moment to observe all this. Perhaps most senses were dulled, but his thoughts were still on a faster-than-normal stream.

"You know him?" The black haired girl was surprised.

"Do you know where he is?! Please! Tell me! Is he here? Is he all right?!" Jess grabbed Balthazar by the shoulders, forcing him to spill the scalding hot coffee he just bought all over himself and her.

Balthazar decided on the spot he wasn't going to lie. Not completely. The full truth was painful and hard to believe. "He's here...He's...all right. He won't remember you though."

"What?" Jessica looked baffled, releasing Balthazar and stepping back just as her face paled. "What do you mean he won't remember me? How do you even know him? Of course he'll remember me! I grew up with him. I've been...I've..I've been with him since he we were kids. What are you talking about?"

"I know him...because I was there after he left you," said Balthazar slowly. "I couldn't save him though. I wanted to...so badly...but it was too late. There's something wrong with his memory. He doesn't remember anything past...a lie. Someone's tampered with his memory and put a lie in his mind."

The black-haired girl grabbed Jessica's arm. "This guy's crazy. Come on, let's get out of here."

"I know it sounds insane...but it is the truth, regardless. He won't remember anything about you. You have to be prepared for that," said Balthazar. "There's something going on beyond anything you can fathom. You have to accept that. Accept that there's more than you. More than your life in college. More than Sam...and that's what you have to believe in to save him."

"Jess...," The black haired girl implored. "Come on. He's just a hobo. He's crazy. He doesn't know anything."

"I know more than you think," said Balthazar coolly. "For example, I know you met Sam when you were ten. He just appeared out of nowhere. Came with a family that looked nothing like him. Adopted. Never quite fit in, did he? Always seemed to carry some sort of secret. That's because he did, Jessica. He always had a secret. It was just taken away from him, time and time again. His mind is fragile at this point from all the tampering."

"How do you know all this? How do you know I met him when I was ten?" Jessica asked, backing away now.

Balthazar looked around them in a quick glance. People were staring at them, wondering more than likely if he really was just what they said, a crazy hobo. But he wasn't having that for long. He drew close, lowered his voice into a whisper. "Come with me. I'll tell you everything I know."

She gave him a quick searching look, deliberating.

"Jess, you can't be serious. He's crazy. He's a stalker or something...or Internal Affairs, I don't know," The other girl gave him an irate look before turning back to her friend. "Come on...We'll keep looking. We'll find him."

Jessica, however, kept her eyes on Balthazar the entire time. "Tell me everything. No games."

"I don't play games," He snapped back irritably. "Come on."

Castiel was getting impatient. Michael had said he would meet him in the park mid afternoon to gather weapons. That was a poor excuse to get away from him...but he'd take it. Personally, he didn't like being in Michael's presence longer than necessary either.

It was an hour after their supposed engagement that Michael showed up, finding Castiel leaning against a rail overlooking a lake. He had been lost in thought, reflecting over his last image of Dean. There was betrayal and misunderstanding and confusion rolled into one expression. He couldn't fathom how Castiel knew Michael and he couldn't fathom that they were acquainted. All Castiel could manage was his promise...because he could do no more in front of them all. And he knew Dean would be angry at him for it. But he had to assure him using the invasion of his mind through their bond. That he was coming back...no matter what.

What else was Castiel expected to do? He couldn't miraculously disappear the same night his Father did...and he couldn't just happen to meet "John Winchester" the same day and decide to go on a trip across state lines with him. It only made sense to pretend they knew eachother...albeit much less than was the truth.

Michael was silent in step when he approached Castiel, but Castiel's senses were wired for attack. If tonight was the night when everything was meant to go down the tubes, then he had to prepare for that. Michael couldn't sneak up on him, no matter how powerful he was.

"Here," said Michael, pulling a scroll out of his pocket and holding it out to Castiel.

"What is that?"

"It's a spell," Michael explained. "Take it."

"I can see it's a spell. What kind of spell. Is it a mortality spell?" Castiel raised an eyebrow almost accusingly.

"No," said Michael pointedly. "It's a banishing spell. Not a very powerful one, but it should be enough for us to get away."

"Banishing," said Castiel slowly. "I wonder what we need that for. Who exactly are you hoping to anticipate at the activation site?"

Michael turned his face from Castiel and this was perhaps the first time that Castiel was not fooled by Michael's appearance in comparison to Dean's. That look of frustration was slightly familiar. He had seen it a few times before on Dean when he was truly angry. Except that Michael was annoyed, he wasn't angry...Dean used to have a skip meter from content to enraged.

"I'm not exactly on the best terms with the Host as you've known," said Michael slowly. "I've managed to keep my presence cloaked for the most part, but that cloak is starting to fall and I can't stop them from sensing me whenever I use power...It won't be long before they track us to Chicago. I can't let that happen."

Castiel listened for a moment then he turned to Michael and leaned back on the rail, his eyes narrowed and shrewd. "You know, Michael. You're the one who wronged the chain of command. They want me dead too, I wager. But I'm a Fallen, that's a principle thing...You, on the other hand...You deliberately left the host to have a merry human life. And having the host come down on your family would be your fault."

"You think I don't know that? I still harness the power of heaven...so if they were to bring down the reign of fire, I can take them," said Michael angrily.

"You keep on thinking that," said Castiel. "I have no intention of standing side by side with you as you engage with Heaven's legion, Michael. I've been staying under their radar so far. And I intend to stay that way. If they burn Chicago to ash, I'll be taking the first flight out. With Dean."

"You selfish Fallen," Michael growled. " You think you can run away after what you've done? You worked with the Shadowalker. You opened Treachery and you took an innocent life. You also reopened the gates again by working with Dante...yet again. Your slate is much more filthy than mine."

"Yes, Michael. But they'd just kill me. You, I think they'd want an interrogation. The way I remember it, Heaven didn't have the best technique in grinding for information," said Castiel coolly. "And your dirty little secret trumps everything I've ever done times ten."

"What dirty secret?"

Castiel pulled off the rail, straightening up. "I didn't father the King of Hell. You may not look at it this way...but Heaven would."

"You don't seem to mind who I managed to 'father'," Michael commented scathingly. "Not at all."

"I don't mind," said Castiel shamelessly.

Michael drew close to him, staring down at Castiel. "Of course not. It all works to your advantage, doesn't it? Regardless...this spell I have will help against even a legion if need be."

"Keep your spells and trinkets, General," said Castiel, holding up a hand. "I don't need them in a fair fight."

"Heaven doesn't fight fair," said Michael.

"Good. Neither do I," said Castiel lightly as he turned away. "I'm not afraid, Michael. It's been a long road. You think I'll stop now? Because Heaven thinks I should?"

"Heaven will kill you," said Michael.

"You don't know that for sure," Castiel pointed out.

"Yes, I do," said Michael tightly. "Because if I were still their High Commander, I'd have ordered your execution on sight."

"That's so nice. You always know what to say to make your son-in-law feel so special," said Castiel coldly.

"Don't say that," Michael answered irritably. "Don't ever say that again. Ever. Again."

"Haha, it's part true, you know," said Castiel, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm bound to him now."

"Don't remind me of that either. In fact, how about you just don't talk the entire way to LA, " said Michael, turning away from Castiel as the latter joined him side by side where they left the park together.

Above them, a power level so low it could have been considered the power of a mouse, broadcasting a signal that was barely detectable was watching them.

Crowley did not look as he had before. He looked much worse. His once handsome features were disfigured, his entire left side of the face marred by softer skin that looked patched. At least half of him still looked like his old self.

Not that that was much compensation.

He would never forget the day it happened. He would never forget what she had done.

But at the moment, his attention was otherwise occupied. He kept his gaze hard on the two angels. Actually, the two of them were hardly considered angelic anymore. One was a Fallen and one a rogue archangel that had been believed...until right this moment, to be dead for the last eleven years.

High from his place above the Hilton hotel, Crowley saw all.

His arms were crossed and he regarded the two of them with some interest. Because it was interesting. Two angels working together under unlikely circumstances. What could prompt an Archangel to ally itself with a Fallen?

Well, the answer to that question was fairly obvious.

There could only be one answer, after all.

Crowley wasn't long alone. He sensed the second presence coming from a long ways. The injury impaired his appearance, not his sense of Will or power within the vicinity. He knew it wasn't Castiel or Michael, but it had a similar aura, and that was enough to make him scowl in disdain.

"I don't make it a point to converse with Celestials at any hour of the day," said Crowley coldly.

"I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something important?" The voice behind him said, coming out of the shadow behind an large AC vent. Crowley turned to the side, and caught a glimpse of whom he was addressing. A figure dressed in a black suit and tie with slightly patched skin and completely bald with large ears. The lack of hair made his head egg shaped. Yet his body was well built and even though Crowley could not physically see them, he knew this Celestial kept his blade underneath the suit. It must have been smaller than normal swords of angelic power because it didn't make the clank like the others when those celestials were in full armor.

This could only mean that this was a high ranking Celestial. Higher than the ones Crowley had previously encountered in his life.

"As a matter of fact," Crowley turned completely around, still grimacing. "You were. To what do I owe such a displeasure?"

"A demons' company in the presence of an angel is hardly noteworthy in this day and age. You can relax, Crowley. I'm not here to dispose of you," said the angel in turn.

"That's not the first time I've heard that," Crowley replied. "But I wouldn't be so quick to have confidence in yourself, I'm much more than you could imagine."

"Yes, of course. You wouldn't have been chosen as sovereign in Hell, if that weren't the case," said the angel mildly.

Crowley frowned. "You seem to know much of me, celestial. Do you have a name for yourself or should I just continue addressing you by your species?"

"My name is Zachariah...It's quite an honor to stand before one of Hell's royalty," said Zachariah and he bowed his head in some respect, which Crowley regarded with annoyance.

"I'm not Hell's royalty," Crowley growled. "If you're so well informed of the dealings with the crown, then you should know that-"

"That you were usurped by a little girl? Oh, yes. That didn't go unnoticed by the chain of command either...We're more aware then you can imagine, Crowley. But we also believe in simplicity. You were a good ruler, while it lasted. There were hardly any discrepancies between our kind and...yours. We recognize that."

Crowley didn't miss that he kept using the "we" pronoun to indicate heaven. This was a spokesperson. Comically, he was reminded of a human getting irritated by a Jehovah's Witness. Yet, he clearly must have had some kind of intention in being here. Crowley was irritated. He hated angels just like the next demon. The only reason there hadn't been a "discrepancy" was because he wanted nothing to do with them. Unlike the previous rulers of Hell who purposely waged war...he didn't.

"I'm glad someone's taken notice of my hard work," said Crowley sarcastically and he turned and began to walk to the edge. He had to get away from this celestial, being in his presence was nauseating. Which was funny considering angelic grace or immortal flame as demons called it, was usually a beacon to demons...since that power was what demons needed to boost their own Will.

Zachariah spoke to Crowley's back. "We also know who created you, Crowley."

That stopped Crowley. He smiled. "I figured it was something of that nature. Did you come to survey the grand piece of work? Dante's favorite child?"

"Shrug off your attachment to your maker all you wish, demon. These things don't go unnoticed. You are a purebred demon from the Shadowalker. A being that has been wanted by Heaven for centuries...before he was imprisoned. Unexpectedly, I might add," said Zachariah.

"He's imprisoned again," Crowley told him, turning his cheek. "And of no harm or use to anyone. What does that have to do with anything?"

"You and I both know that that is a falsehood, Crowley. Your maker is more than any normal Fallen...Just like that one you're keeping an eye on. The two of them are fragments of something much greater...and now that they're all on the same plane of existence, well, that poses a problem. I know there are three of them. Castiel, Dante...and of course our beloved Dean Winchester...Once demon, now human in a tragic twist of fate," Zachariah explained with the slightest twist of his mouth in a mocking nature. "but yes...the three of them being here poses a slight...problem, you can imagine."

"So what, you want to kill them all? You want my help? Come now, celestial. What have you to fear? The Fallen there is head over heels in love with the human, but from what I understand, he's leaving him tonight to stop the Order of Tarana. Did you know about that too? The Order wants Dean back to demonic state. They follow him in blind loyalty, sired mentally through what Lucifer did by creating them in Manhattan. Tonight is the night that the last focus site comes alive. If it does...I daresay you're thoroughly screwed. Worry what you will for these three. If you kill them, those fragments, they pass on, you are aware of that, right?"

"They pass on to the one that kills them," said Zachariah. "By the look of things, they don't plan on killing eachother...For the moment. But we can't allow any slip-ups. Heaven's declaring martial law. The fragments must not be allowed to exist any longer. So yes, I do want your help, Crowley."

"Why would I help...you...," Hard emphasis on the word. "Kill my own maker?

"I think you're tired, Crowley. You love Shadowalker because your bond to him constitutes you have to. But we understand something about your kind. It's very rare that the creation of your type is...fair. It's purely selfish. A Fallen or another demon desiring companionship. You did not enter this union by choice or consent. Your mind was not your own, and it still is not. It's been proven time and time again, however, that the child can retract from the one who created him."

"I'm not interested in working with Heaven," said Crowley, this time truly preparing to make the Jump.

"Vengeance is a good incentive to join a cause, wouldn't you say?" Zachariah called him back. "Keep your reservations for not wanting to kill Shadowalker all you want, Crowley...but there's still a brat queen that I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking care of her, at the very least."

Crowley growled under his breath. Again he was being stopped from leaving, but the offer did intrigue him. The only reason he hadn't breached Pride and freed Dante after killing that insufferable "Queen" was because he knew how well guarded the castle was from any invasion, even demonic. After Heaven breached it and killed Lucifer the first time, Dean had it reinforced multiple times...and the original state Dean left it in was back.

"You don't really need my help, do you? You have your entire legion to fall back on," said Crowley coldly.

Zachariah looked away from, towards the sky. "It's your choice. It's a solution you can survive through. I can guarantee your survival, in fact. Something will happen tonight. I can feel it in the air...I can feel it in my bones. In the magics and mild foresight we call upon, I feel it. Everything will change...and you should choose your alliances carefully or you'll be caught in the crossfire."

"This is why I hate celestials," Crowley muttered. "Always murmuring about something terrible happening but not lifting a finger to stop it. Your General is down there, you know. Your High Commander. He's the one sheltering a former demon and befriending Fallen. Perhaps you should turn your attention to that rather than speaking of ill prophecies."

"Michael is not High Commander. He's dead on paper...and we're prefferring to keep it that way. There's a new Commander in Heaven now. And they're taking good care to clean up unnecessary rabble. This Scripture has caused more damage than anything we've encountered. It must be destroyed...These three. They must die. It's imperative it happens. Dominion returning will be the end of all the realms as we know them,"

"Sounds like a cup of tea to me," said Crowley cheerfully.

"No, you're more realistic than that. You like this planet, don't you? You remember it from your human life before Shadowalker took that away from you. And I think you'd mourn it's loss...That's enough, I think," said Zachariah, drawing close enough to grip Crowley's shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Crowley didn't shrug it off or wrench himself away.