When Sam descended the stairs to the basement, he found Cas half-lying, half-sitting on the floor, braced on one shaking arm, the other hand reaching upward, straining against the chain that held it down as Cas tried to touch the bandage taped over his wound. He looked up as Sam reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes harrowed and fearful, the confusion on his face making it clear that he had only just awakened.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, though even as the words passed his lips, he could hear Cas's voice from years earlier, slurred and slowed with alcohol, pointing out their uselessness.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

It made Sam's heart ache, to remember a time when the entire world had been falling apart around them, Lucifer close on Sam's trail and Dean despairing to the point of saying yes – but even so, at least they'd known who the enemies were. Cas had been so confused, so lost, during those days – and looking at him now, Sam suddenly wasn't quite sure he'd ever stopped being that way.

"Sorry," Sam offered with genuine regret, as he took in the rather pitiful sight Cas made at the moment. "I guess that's pretty obvious, isn't it? I wish we had more morphine to give you, but we used it all when we – found the tablet."

"Where is it?" Cas demanded, though his voice was weak and breathless, and he winced with pain as he spoke. "What – what have you done with it?"

"I need to know what you did with it, Cas," Sam countered, keeping his voice even and calm as he pulled up a chair and sat down facing the angel. "We already know about the ritual. Okay? What we need to know now is how to stop it."

Cas frowned, shaking his head. "What – what ritual?" he asked wearily. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know – w-why you're doing this. If Naomi – gets her hands on the – the tablet…"

"Naomi isn't the problem right now," Sam cut him off sharply. "Cas – you realize that if your plan works – none of us will even survive, right? I mean – okay, maybe you will, but me and Dean? Not likely. And I don't like your chances, either, honestly, because when it gets out what you did? Every single monster, demon, and angel out there is going to be gunning for you. Have you thought about that?"

"You're not making any sense," Cas muttered, lowering his head and closing his eyes, his face taut with pain, his chest heaving with the sheer effort of merely breathing, and Sam felt a sharp pang of guilt at the sight. "There is no plan. What exactly am I supposed to have done?"

"We know everything, Cas," Sam explained with a sigh. "About the Gatekeeper, and bringing the walls down…"

"The Gatekeeper?" Cas looked up at Sam again sharply. "What has she to do with this? No one has even seen her in centuries…" He shook his head slowly, looking away again before meeting Sam's gaze, his own piercing and suspicious. "Where are you getting this information? From the angels? Because, Sam – you know they want the tablet for themselves…"

"It's not… just the angels." Sam chose his words carefully. He knew that if he admitted Crowley's involvement, it would only give Cas more ammunition with which to protest his innocence. "We're hearing this from… several sources right now, Cas. And the thing is – everybody's stories match." He paused, his voice quiet and pointed as he concluded, "Everybody's but yours."

"Then everybody is lying!" Cas snapped, glaring up at Sam in defiance.

He automatically leaned toward Sam as he spoke, angry and challenging – and then immediately bit back a cry of agony at the movement, his arm giving out beneath him so that he collapsed to the floor. Immediately, Sam rose from his chair and crouched down in front of Cas, reaching out to help him up. Cas flinched away, hard, the chains rattling loudly in the quiet room.

"Cas, hey…" Sam kept his voice soothing, gentle, as he reached out and caught Cas's arms, carefully helping him back up into a sitting position, his legs folded under him. "Easy… Cas, we're not gonna hurt you…"

Cas was tense, trembling under Sam's hands, but he looked up at Sam incredulously, as if that was the most ridiculous thing Sam had ever said. Sam swallowed, looking away for a moment before meeting Cas's eyes, apologetic.

He had to admit, Cas had a point.

"We had no choice about – this," he explained softly, nodding in the general direction of Cas's injury. "We were told you'd started the ritual, by hiding the tablet in your body. We had to be sure, and – the tablet was there, so – clearly we were – right, to do it." The words felt wrong coming out, and Sam swallowed hard, rephrasing. "We… had to, Cas. But – it's not like we wanted to hurt you, and – I'm not going to do anything to hurt you now. I just need you to talk to me…"

"It… shouldn't hurt. Not – not like this," Cas observed, his voice weak and shaky, but thoughtful as he looked down at his own damaged vessel, momentarily distracted from Sam's line of questioning. He looked up at Sam again, his eyes wide and filled with dread. "What have you done to me?"

"It's the Jacob's Call bond," Sam explained, unable to hold Cas's gaze, feeling uneasy and defensive. "It – restrains your grace so you can't just go flying off, and you can't hurt us, and…" Sam frowned, pausing to consider the implications of what Cas had said. "… and I guess that also means you can – feel pain in a way that your grace… doesn't usually let you feel it."

Cas considered that for a moment, eyes downcast, before he slowly raised his head to study Sam's face again, his words cautious and measured. "But… you have no intention of hurting me." His tone carried a note of sarcasm so faint that it would have been missed by anyone who didn't know him as well as Sam did. "You have – other reasons for wanting me to be – helpless, and restrained, and – able to feel pain more intensely, yet unable to heal. Yes." The faintest hint of a humorless smile touched the edge of Cas's lips, but didn't reach his eyes. "That makes perfect sense."

"We just need to know how to stop this," Sam insisted, earnest and pleading. "Cas – we can't just let you end the world."

"I'm not trying to end the world," Cas replied, quiet desperation in his voice. "Sam – please…"

"Then why did you put the tablet inside yourself?" Sam leaned back on his knees, watching Cas closely for his reaction. "What other reason could there possibly be?"

Cas looked away, swallowing hard. "You – you wouldn't understand…"

"Then make me understand."

"I can't." Cas's voice was taut, frustrated.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't understand," Cas snapped, his voice trembling and uncertain. "I don't know why I had to do it, I just – it's my father's, and I just – I have to…" He stopped, shaking his head slightly, before going very quiet and very still. Slowly, he squared his shoulders as much as possible, his jaw setting stubbornly despite the obvious pain that made his face drawn and pale. He met Sam's eyes again, firm in his defiance as he repeated, "You wouldn't understand."

Sam stifled a frustrated sigh. "Cas…"

He stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and rose to his feet, turning to face Dean as he appeared at the base of the stairs. His expression was tense and worried, and he didn't so much as look at Cas, but instead focused completely on his brother.

"Sam… I need to see you for a minute upstairs," he said tersely.

Sam glanced at Cas, who was watching the two of them silently with apprehensive eyes, before meeting Dean's gaze and nodding. "Okay."

Sam followed Dean up the stairs and to his laptop, where Dean motioned for Sam to take a seat and then stood back, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting. Sam sat down in front of his computer and quickly scanned the screen in front of him. The browser was opened to a news website, and a live feed was playing – a pretty news anchor standing in front of what appeared to be the splintered remains of a house.

"… one of six similar tornadoes that have touched down in the state within the last two hours, all of which have been measured as F4s or F5s. There is literally nothing left standing in the wake of this tornado, which has left a path of destruction nearly a half mile wide and nearly thirty miles long…"

"What state is she talking about?" Sam asked, frowning as a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Delaware," Dean replied, pointedly.

Sam looked up at him in alarm. "Seriously?"

"And there was another earthquake a few minutes before this story broke," Dean informed him, his voice low and grim. "They were talking about it when I turned on the computer, right after you went downstairs." He paused to lend emphasis to his words when he added, "It was in Florida."

"… impossible to estimate at this point as to the number of lives lost, but in this small town alone, hundreds remain unaccounted for, with at least 27 recorded deaths so far…" On the screen, the solemn-faced woman continued. "We will keep you posted as more information becomes available…"

"Damn it." Sam closed the laptop, turning away from it, feeling sick.

"Yeah," Dean agreed darkly. "This is some serious apocalyptic shit here, Sammy." He hesitated before continuing, a faint tremor in his voice, "I – I don't think there's any question about what's going on here. Not anymore."

"It doesn't look like it," Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"Any luck with Cas?" Dean asked, his voice carefully even and calm. "Did he tell you how to stop it?"

"No." Sam looked up at Dean, shaking his head with a little grimace. "He keeps insisting he doesn't know what we're talking about. But when I asked him what he was doing with the tablet, if not the ritual to open the gates – he didn't have a good answer."

"That's Cas," Dean muttered, turning away and swiping a hand down over his face. "Always a crappy liar."

"But stubborn as hell," Sam added. "And people are dying, Dean. And – we don't really know how long we have."

Dean turned back toward Sam, frowning. "Three days…"

"From the time Cas started the ritual," Sam pointed out. "And who knows when that was? Things seem to be accelerating pretty quickly. For all we know, time's almost up."

Dean considered that for a moment, before offering, "Maybe the angels could tell? Or Crowley?"

"The angels didn't have a clue if he'd even started it or not," Sam replied. "Besides, if we call them here, they can't take Cas, but they could take the tablet, and apocalypse or not, that's not a good thing. Anyway, Crowley seemed to have more information. We could summon him, see if he knows anything or can find out anything… but I don't want him anywhere near the tablet, either. We know he wants to get his hands on it…"

"Maybe there's a way to protect it? Some kind of spell?" Dean suggested. "We could ward it against demons or something, and then call Crowley?"

Sam thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, maybe. I can check it out."

He braced himself for whatever new bad news he would find on the screen, then opened his laptop again. He was tempted to simply close the news site, but then thought better of it, and merely downsized the window to a small portion of the screen, so that he could keep track of new events while he started searching for workable spells. After a few moments, Sam glanced up at Dean, who was pacing the floor, looking every few moments toward the closed door to the basement.

"You wanna try talking to him?" Sam suggested. "I wasn't getting anywhere, but – he listens to you, Dean. Maybe you could…"

"No." Dean's voice was a little too sharp, carrying a note of something vaguely resembling panic.

Sam frowned, his fingers momentarily stilling on the keyboard. "Dean?" he began with cautious concern. "What…?"

"I need some air," Dean announced quickly, cutting Sam off and heading for the cabin door.

Sam's frown deepened. "Dean…"

"Just give me a minute, Sammy, would you?" Dean snapped. "Keep looking for that spell! We don't have much time!"

He didn't give Sam time to respond before he was out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Sam started to get up, worried by Dean's behavior – but then another story popped up on the news site – an impending hurricane.

In South Dakota.

We're running out of time here, and we don't even know how fast…

Sam bit his lip, considering, his eyes locked onto the door out which Dean had just disappeared. His hesitation cost him the choice, however, because another moment later, Sam heard the Impala's engine roaring to life outside, and the sound of her tires crunching in the leaves outside the cabin as Dean drove away.

Sam took out his cell phone and dialed Dean's number, waiting anxiously for him to pick up. When he did, on the fourth ring, Sam spoke without waiting for a greeting.

"What the hell was that?"

"Sammy," Dean sighed, his voice raw with exhaustion and – something else. Something Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. "I'm sorry, okay? Just – I need a minute. I'm not going far, all right? I'll be back in an hour, tops. Just – let me know if anything else happens, or if you find a spell. Okay?"

Sam hesitated, but then decided that if Dean was actually telling Sam what he needed for a change, that was at least something.

"An hour," Sam repeated firmly. "And when you get back here – we're going to talk about this."

Dean was quiet for a long moment.

"Dean."

"All right," Dean grumbled. "Fine, just – later."

Sam hung up the phone and attempted to focus his attention on his laptop. It was difficult, amidst the distractions of the increasingly grim news stories that kept popping up in the small window to the side; and the ever-present awareness in the back of his mind of Cas, chained up and in pain and stubbornly alone in the basement.

And then there was Dean.

But as worried as Sam was about his brother, he knew that he had bigger issues to think about. Sam had two priorities at the moment – finding out just how quickly their time was running out, and figuring out a way to get Cas to give in before it was too late to save anyone.

Whatever the hell was going on with Dean… it was just going to have to wait.