Castiel said their "conversation would not be appropriate here," touched Dean's forehead, and landed them in a vacant room on the top floor of a house in Monson, Maine. Cas corrected Dean, assuring him this was an Inn... that he'd neglected to book.

Numb, Dean made his way downstairs to smooth things out with the staff of Lake Shore House Inn. They grilled him about looking ill and needing a doctor... and oh yeah, how the hell did he get upstairs in the first place?

When Dean got back, he was ready to collapse. Instead he sat down quietly on the queen-sized bed, struggling to collect himself. The clean and warm duvet beneath him was a faded robin's egg blue with light yellow starburst stitching. The rain poured outside. Nothing seemed real.

Castiel cleared his throat and he flinched.

"Dean-"

"Go," Dean said, his voice low. Cas tilted his head.

"What?"

"The plan. Tell me."

Castiel nodded, and did.

The plan was not simple.

Apparently, Sam was in the hell boonies: Limbo. Castiel had barely even noticed it the few times he'd been to hell and Dean certainly couldn't claim any knowledge either, as he'd been relegated and imprisoned to the racks "further down and to the left," Cas informed him with a casual brevity that gave Dean the briefest pause of traumatized wonderment.

"So how do we know where-?"

"Crowley," Castiel said, standing tall and betraying nothing as he stared down at Dean. It wasn't a challenge exactly... but Castiel was clearly expecting Dean's disapproval and ready to justify himself.

Dean worked his jaw and tried to care they might be going down this road again. Instead, he felt nothing but fear and desperation, and accepted this collusion with Crowley, no questions asked.

Castiel's eyes widened imperceptibly, surprised and relieved that Dean wasn't going to press the issue.

"Crowley told me how to get there."

Dean sighed and nodded. He knew what he'd say normally. Normally he'd spit back, 'in exchange for what, Cas?' but right now? Did it really matter? Did he really want to know what Cas had exchanged to get this information?

Because now was not the time to stall with moral quandaries about whether or not to save Sam based off what Castiel had traded to get this intelligence. And Castiel was standing before him now, unflinchingly ready to save his little brother and face the resulting consequences. And these were consequences he had agreed to before he had even appeared to Dean at that godforsaken playground to tell him what had happened.

This was not on Dean.

Dean was biting his lip so hard he was close to drawing blood. He shook his head and looked at Cas pathetically.

"Whatever you did - whatever you dealt or traded with Crowley, Cas-"

"That is not your concern," Cas dismissed, his eyes boring into Dean's. Dean opened his mouth but stopped at Castiel's doleful expression, understanding it for what it was. Dean looked down, nodding at the floor. He swallowed.

"Whatever you did," Dean said, looking back up at Cas, eyes and tone insistent. It was telling enough that he wasn't asking what Cas had done. What mattered was this: "Sam and I - we're gonna help you. You're..." Dean trailed off, incapable of saying something as strange and sentimental as 'you're ours.'

Castiel's eyes glinted, the corner of his mouth turning up in a fond, knowing smile. This was both Dean's apology and promise to make it up to him.

Cas tilted his head towards Dean in acknowledgement before resuming.

"Limbo is unguarded and fortunately near the portal entrance we will take into hell. We slip in quietly-"

"-won't the alarms go off when an angel comes knocking at the gates of hell?" Dean interrupted, his voice gravelly but taking on a more solid and practical tone.

"It is only when an angel uses their grace inside hell that anyone would be alerted," Cas replied evenly.

"So," Dean paused in thought, irked, "What're you gonna be there for? Moral support?" Dean shot with more heat than he felt. He didn't exactly know what he was doing. It occurred to him antagonizing the only person capable of saving Sam maybe wasn't the right way to go.

"No," Cas said, squinting and lips twitching with annoyance. "Once we get into Limbo, hell will not recognize my grace when I use it."

"Why?"

Cas pursed his lips, hesitant and uncomfortable, before answering.

"My grace will be confused with Lucifer's in Limbo."

Dean's eyes widened, then let out a small huff of empty laughter.

"So you're saying they can't tell the difference between Bowie and Vanilla Ice?"

Cas made a face.

"Yes," he admitted, "but please. Don't liken me to Vanilla Ice," he said humorlessly. Dean looked at him blankly before giving a small, genuine smirk.

"What happens next?"

Castiel shifted.

"The cage."

Dean nodded and waited, but the angel remained quiet.

"Right. The cage. How do we get him out?" Dean prompted, expectant.

Cas took a deep breath, crystal blue unblinking eyes drilling into his friend's.

"We don't."

Dean blinked.

"Come again?"

Castiel sighed and sat down on the bed across from Dean.

"Let me start with this," Cas said tentatively, "it is... taxing... for all angels... to force humans to do anything without their consent-"

"-what?" Dean huffed incredulously, "Zachariah-"

"-was extremely powerful. And while you cannot see angels in their true forms, he was exhausted every time he compelled you and Sam in such elaborate ways to say yes to Michael and Lucifer," Cas said, quick and articulate to a fault.

"Okay, okay," Dean murmured, conceding, and gestured for Cas to go on.

"Now... Lucifer," Cas paused, looking seriously at Dean to make sure he was still following. Dean nodded. "Lucifer has forced Sam into the cage and is now keeping him there - all against his will. It necessarily weakens him."

"He's an archangel though-"

"Yes," Cas replied calmly, "but he is weak."

Dean folded his arms, deep in thought.

"Was it like that in the," Dean swallowed, "y'know, real cage?"

"No. Lucifer was not weakened in the Cage. Sam had given his consent to be there," Cas said softly. Dean let out a pitched grunt of indignation, his eyes prickling. He blinked it away: he couldn't think back to that. They had to stay focused.

"Okay so Lucifer's weak in this cage. What does that mean?"

"It's not as much that Lucifer is weak, but that Sam is strong."

Dean considered, then shook his head.

"Yeah I don't know what that means either, Cas," he replied dully.

"There is power in consent, Dean," Cas said, leaning forward, closer to Dean for emphasis, his eyes blazing with something Dean couldn't figure out for a second... until he did.

It was excitement.

Dean stared back at Cas, uncomprehending.

"I can get us in there, Dean. I can get us into the cage with your consent. I cannot fight Lucifer... but I can protect you - and Sam if he's with you, if you can find him - inside the cage."

Dean's heart practically stopped at the revelation. He opened his mouth and found himself without words.

"I...what?!" Dean whispered, appalled. "I thought the plan was to get Sam out of the cage, not all of us in it!" he yelled, getting up from the bed, words rushing out. "What the... fuck," Dean shouted, hands braced against the back of his head.

Cas shook his head and stepped forward after him.

"You misunderstand," Cas said emphatically and Dean turned around, his eyes glassy and pleading despite himself. "I can protect you and Sam inside the cage by the virtue and power of your consent, Dean."

Dean let his arms fall to his sides. He shrugged, shook his head, and threw his palms out to Cas, offering him the floor because he still didn't get it.

"I can get you up to that point," Cas promised, "from there, it is up to you and your brother."