Thank you so much Jenjoremy, Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for all that you do for me and this story. Love you ladies xxx

I posted Chapter 8 last week but FFnet wasn't sending out alerts, so if you missed it, click back a step and give it a read.

Chapter Nine

Castiel was on his way to the garage when he heard footsteps behind him. He hoped it would be Charlie or Dean, not Ezekiel, as that would complicate his plan. He was pleased when they came closer and he heard Charlie's voice greeting him. "Hey, Cas. What are you doing?"

"There is something I need from the Impala. Come with me; I want to show you something," he said.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Have to say, Cas, if you'd coupled that with the coat Edlund said you used to wear, this would be a whole other conversation."

Castiel merely looked at her in confusion. He suspected from the tentative smile on her face that it was a poor joke that not even she felt much amusement with in their current situation. She was trying though, and Castiel understood the need.

"Never mind," she said. "What do you want to show me?"

"It's hard to explain," he said.

She shrugged and fell into step at his side. "Dean's finally sleeping."

"That's good," Castiel said distractedly.

"Cas, are you okay?"

Castiel nodded vaguely. "Yes, good. I mean fine. I am fine."

Charlie obviously didn't believe him, but she didn't question him any further.

When they came to the garage, Castiel pushed open the door and gestured Charlie in ahead, closing it carefully behind him. Charlie looked at him and then the question of what he was doing trailed off as she caught sight of the intense look in his eyes.

Castiel tugged her arm and led her over to the Impala. "I need you to be very quiet," he whispered. He judged that Ezekiel wouldn't have a chance of hearing them from any of the main rooms of the bunker, and even if he was just outside the door he wouldn't hear if they whispered, even with his enhanced hearing.

She nodded and then spoke quietly. "What's going on, Cas?"

"Ezekiel is lying. I suspect he is not who he says he is."

Charlie's eyes bugged and she made a small squeaking sound.

Castiel pressed a finger to his lips. "I have a plan."

"What?" she breathed.

"We need to question him, which means we need him trapped. I will lay a circle of holy oil and find a way to persuade him into it."

She stared off in concentration for a moment and then said, "Tell him you want to go outside. Have the oil laid somewhere near the stairs, so he'll have to cross it."

That was actually a very good idea. It shouldn't be hard to persuade the angel to take some air with Castiel. He nodded and popped the trunk, internally hoping Sam and Dean still had a stock of oil there. As he lifted the false bottom, he realized he needn't have worried. There were two urns of oil among the weapons. He lifted one and slowly closed the trunk so as not to make any more noise than necessary.

"What do I do?" Charlie asked.

"Hide until I call you. Pretend to sleep if you can convincingly."

"Can do. What are you going to do?"

"I am going to lay the trap and then wait for him to show himself."

"Think that'll work?"

"It has to," Castiel said solemnly. "Because otherwise we have no chance of finding out what else he is lying about."

"You think he's lying about Sam?"

"I hope so," Castiel said. "I truly hope so."

The fire burned around the angel in a perfect circle, lighting his familiar features with the flickering flames. His face was set in an expression that looked so wrong on Sam; it was more suited to his soulless self. Castiel knew from that look alone that this was more than a case of false identity. He was hiding something much bigger from them. He hoped it was Sam's true location.

"Well, Castiel, this is quite the plan you have," he said. "Trap me and… what? You can't hurt me without hurting the vessel; you can't overpower me, so you can do nothing but stand there useless until the oil burns out and frees me. Admittedly, that'll take some time, but I don't mind waiting."

If Castiel hadn't known before that this wasn't Ezekiel, he would know now from what he was saying. Ezekiel was a true and good angel. A savior of souls and a friend to Castiel. This angel—whoever he was—was dark and wrong.

"Charlie!" he shouted, sure she would be listening hard for his summons.

There were running footsteps and then Charlie appeared in the doorway. "Wow. It worked," she said, awestruck.

"Please, could you get Dean?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sure."

She jogged away and Castiel and the unknown angel were alone again. The angel was staring at the spot Charlie had been, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Who are you really?" Castiel asked.

The angel smiled. "It wouldn't help you to know. You will be just as helpless as you are now."

"That's where you are wrong," Castiel said. "We are never helpless."

"Like you weren't when Metatron slit your throat and stole your grace?"

"That was me alone. When we are together, the Winchesters and I are unbeatable."

"Except… you're down one Winchester at the moment, aren't you? It's just you and two other pathetic humans."

"Lucifer thought the same, and look what happened to him."

Castiel heard Dean's voice then, coming to him from along the hall. "What's going on, Charlie?"

"Come see," Charlie said. "I don't know where to even begin to explain."

Their voices came closer and then Dean's shout echoed around the room. ""What the fuck?"

Castiel turned to him as he jogged toward them. "Dean, stay calm," he pleaded.

Dean's face was white, and he glared at the angel, his lip curled back with what looked like hatred. "What did you do?" he growled.

The angel smiled blandly at him. "I did what I needed to do."

Dean turned to Castiel, his eyes demanding an explanation.

"This is not Ezekiel," Castiel said.

"Then who is it?"

"I don't know yet. I will find out."

The angel scoffed. "I thought we'd discussed this already. You have no way of forcing me to tell you who I am. You have nothing that scares me."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "No, but you are scared. You might not look it, but you are. Whoever you are really, you're in danger, aren't you?"

Castiel wasn't sure how she knew, but the way the angel's lips pressed into a thin line made him sure she was right. This angel may not fear them, but he feared someone. Bartholomew, maybe?

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean snarled.

The angel laughed harshly, a sound so unlike Sam's usual expression of mirth. "What did I do? I did what was my right to do as an angel. I took a vessel."

Charlie sneered at him. "You mean you stole one?"

The angel fixed his eyes on Dean. "I didn't steal, did I, Dean? I was begged to take it. You were so desperate you would have let anyone in. You even enabled me to take him with your trick. 'There ain't no me if there ain't no you!' You knew exactly what to say to him to make him let me in. You played on his worst fears and he threw himself open to me."

"Why would you do it?" Dean asked.

The angel looked confused for a moment, as if he didn't understand the question, and then he answered and Castiel understood he didn't understand the reason truly himself. "I wanted to help," he said slowly. "Yes. I did want to help. I thought I could make amends by doing good, so I came to you in answer to your prayer."

"What changed?" Charlie asked.

"He did," the angel nodded to Dean. "I spent weeks inside this vessel, healing, hiding from him—making sure he didn't cast me out and ruin himself. I was doing the right thing. And then the witch came. She stuffed Sam down so deep I had no chance of finding him. I tried, I did, but then Winchester arrogance and fury reared its head. I was ordered around like I was a lesser being, like a disobedient pet, and it made me angry."

"So youcast Sam out," Castiel asked.

"No, that would be too simple. He was gone and not by my hand. It was later that he came back."

Dean sucked in a breath. "He's back!"

"No. Not anymore. I took care of him well. Sam really is gone. Natural order has been reestablished. I, the angel of the Lord, have my vessel and the person it was is gone." He looked down at the fire and smiled. "This will only hold me so long, and then I will be gone."

"You have to know I will never let that happen," Dean said.

"You're probably right. At least I know you will try. I suppose I will have to do something about that." He sighed. "It's a shame. I would have left you alive had you let me leave this place in peace."

"Never going to happen," Castiel snarled.

"I am sure that's what you believe," he replied. "But, as we have discussed, you're human and powerless against me."

Suddenly, inexplicably, Dean smiled. "Maybe. But you're forgetting something. I've got the King of Hell in my dungeon, and he's not powerless."

"You will make a deal with the demon for this?"

"Absolutely," Charlie said eagerly. "And best of all, it won't cost a soul." Dean and Castiel turned to her and she went on. "Crowley just wants a phone call."

Dean's heart raced as he entered the dungeon. Crowley was sitting in his chair, humming a tune and looking supremely unconcerned.

"Squirrel," he said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to make a deal," Dean said without hesitation.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we been here before? Did you finally decide to quit clutching your pearls and make me an offer?"

"Something like that. I hear you want a phone call."

Crowley nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do. Depends what it's going to cost me though. Nothing too taxing I hope. I'm feeling kinda lazy today."

"I want you to tell me anything you can about expelling an angel. I know there's a way; Alastair almost did it to Castiel once."

Crowley smiled cruelly. "Yeah. There's a spell, calling upon the power of Hell to kick the angel out."

"Can a human do it?"

Crowley snorted. "Didn't you hear the part about the power of Hell? Sorry, Winchester, you have to be pure and powerful demon to pull it off."

"So you could do it?"

"As the most powerful demon that has ever been? Duh. 'Course I can do it."

"Will you do it?"

"Depends. Who am I expelling and why?"

"I don't know his name," Dean said. "Pretended to be called Ezekiel."

"And who am I evicting him from?"

Dean took a breath and said, "Sam."

Crowley laughed. "This sounds like a story I need to hear. C'mon, Winchester, who managed to pry Sam open again and hop a ride? It's not Lucifer, is it? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'd have felt the shockwave from that. "

"It's not Lucifer." Dean was sure of that much. Lucifer wouldn't hang around. He would have killed Dean and run the moment he got inside Sam. It didn't feel like him either. The way he was walking and talking wasn't Sam but neither was it Lucifer.

"Okay then," Crowley said. "A phone call for expelling the angel, right? I can do that. It'll be fun even. It'll break up the monotony of my day. Ante up a little blood, please," When Dean hesitated, he said, "I don't want to call for pizza. I want to call Hell. I need blood for that."

"Why are you calling Hell?"

"Who else would I want to call?" Crowley asked. "Never mind. Don't tax your brain, Winchester. I'm not calling for rescue. I just want to talk to Abaddon, check in on what she's doing and the like."

If Crowley had forced him, Dean would have dealt for freedom, but the fact he seemed to be happy with a phone call was even better. And if he was calling Abaddon, he wasn't calling for a rescue. Sam had told him Abaddon came to kill him in the church. She wasn't going to go out of her way to save him now. Besides, if he started saying things Dean didn't like, he could end their call easily enough.

"One phone call and you'll get the angel out of Sam?" he asked.

"Yes," Crowley said, reaching out a hand to Dean. They shook hands and Crowley grinned. "Let's get this done."

Dean walked back into the filing room and picked up the stainless steel bowl he had brought from the kitchen. Crowley's eyes danced at the sight of it. Dean set it down on the table and pulled his penknife from his pocket. He cut across his arm and allowed the flowing blood to drip down to the bowl. He held it there long enough for a small pool of blood to form, and then he wrapped a rag around the cut and slid the bowl over to Crowley.

Crowley grabbed it and raised it in front of him. "Inferni sectatores, nunc audite regem." He winked at Dean as the blood began to bubble. "This is Crowley. Put me through to Abaddon." There was a pause in which the blood bubbled sickeningly, and then Crowley spoke again. "Abaddon, love, we need to talk…"

Five minutes later, Dean led Crowley through the hall to the main room of the bunker. Crowley looked around as they walked. "Well, this is some place, Squirrel," he said. "How on earth did you afford it?"

"It was willed to us," Dean said.

When they came to the room where the angel was trapped, Crowley laughed. "Look at that; Sam Winchester playing pony to an angel again." He squinted. "You, I don't know, though. What's the name, feathers?"

The angel merely glared at him.

"Not feeling chatty? Not to worry. I'll cast you out regardless."

"You are making a mistake," the angel warned.

"The mistake was letting you in," Dean said.

Crowley tapped the collar around his neck. "I need to actually access the power of hell, so you're going to need to get this off."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then looked in Sam's stolen face. This was the only way, he reminded himself, to get Sam back. He unlocked the collar and lifted it away from Crowley who rolled his shoulders and rubbed his throat.

"Damn, that feels better," he said, satisfied.

"Get to it then," Dean said. "Give me my brother back."

"Happy to oblige," Crowley said. "You might want to look away though. The light show from this is pretty impressive."

Dean kept his eyes fixed into the circle of fire. A side glance told him Charlie and Castiel were doing the same.

"Fine, it's your retinas," Crowley said. He cracked his knuckles and grinned at the angel. "Ready for a bout?"

He stepped carefully over the flames and into the trap. The angel swung an upper cut at him, and Crowley laughed as he caught his wrist and pushed him back a few steps.

"Be careful!" Dean shouted. If an angel passed through the fire, they were destroyed. Dean was pretty sure that went for the vessel too.

"Oops, sorry," Crowley said, obviously unconcerned.

The angel swung another punch and Crowley chuckled as he gripped the angel's arm and pulled it behind his back. As strong as angels were, they were obviously no match for the King of Hell. Though he struggled, he couldn't free himself. Crowley swept his feet from under him and the angel fell to the floor.

"Crowley," Dean warned.

"Don't worry, Squirrel. I won't let a hair of this flowing mane get even a little singed." He pressed a knee to the angel's chest and pushed down hard. The angel punched and clawed at him, but for all the reaction Crowley gave, he might not have bothered.

Crowley laid his hand on the angel's forehead and began to chant, "Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna, me confirma." Light began to glow from the point they were connected.

"This is a mistake," the angel rasped.

"Potestas inferna, me confirma," Crowley continued.

"You'll never find him!"

Crowley's voice rose to a shout, "Potestas inferna, me confirma!"

Light poured from Crowley's hand and Dean's eyes squeezed shut. He heard a rushing noise and then felt heat on his face, like leaning too close to a burner. There was a grunt, a thud and then Crowley spoke. "Up you come, Moose."

Dean's eyes opened and he saw, through spots dancing in his vision, Crowley hefting Sam over the flames and setting him down on the floor.

"Sam!" Dean rushed over to him and dropped to his knees beside him. Sam's eyes were closed and his skin pale. "Sammy, wake up!" he commanded, shaking his shoulders. Sam's head jostled but that was the only movement.

He felt people crowding at his sides, but he paid them no attention until other hands began touching Sam. He shoved them away.

"Dean, stop!" Castiel commanded as Charlie said, "I am trying to help. Let me work."

Dean's hands fell back to his sides as reason caught up to him. Charlie. Castiel. They wouldn't hurt Sam. But Crowley would… His head snapped up and he saw Crowley walking calmly away. Dean didn't care in that moment if he was making his escape as long as he stayed away from Sam.

"Sam, can you hear me?" Charlie was asking loudly. "Can you open your eyes?"

Dean watched as she leaned over him, holding her cheek above his parted lips. She straightened and pressed her fingers to his throat.

"He's not…" Castiel started tentatively.

"He's alive," she replied, rubbing her knuckles into Sam's sternum, getting no reaction.

"Then why isn't he waking up?" Castiel asked.

Charlie looked at Dean as she answered. "I don't know."

Dean swallowed hard. "He's not in there, is he? He's still missing."

So… Gadreel is gone at last. Sure, Sam's not back, but we're halfway there, right?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx