Thank you Jenjoremy for working your magic on this chapter for me and Gredelina1 for everything you do.

Sorry for the late update. I finally made it to Sweden so have been a busy bee. Here's chapter 18...

Chapter Eighteen

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music and smiled across at Sam who was studying something on his tablet. Dean had thought getting out of the bunker would be good for his brother, getting him away from the library, but it looked like he'd just bought the library with him.

Since the grace spell had crapped out, Sam had been distant. His initial anger had lasted all of a couple days and then, the day Castiel left the bunker, it became some kind of laser-focused determination to find another way. Dean had grown accustomed to one-sided conversations in which Sam made vague replies, not taking his eyes from the book he was reading.

He understood it. That angel had done something awful to Sam, and he deserved to die for it, but he didn't let that need for revenge take over when there were things they had to appreciate—like Sam's life. Dean just wanted to take a little time to enjoy that together. He was feeling good. They were on the road again, just the two of them, and while they weren't heading to a hunt, they were going to see Castiel for the first time in weeks and that made Dean happy.

"So, you think the kids will throw a kegger while we're gone?" he asked, hoping once again to engage his brother.

"I think it's more likely they'll freebase donuts and play videos games together," Sam replied, a smile curving his lips. "Your lecture on the meaning of a secret base probably sunk in the fourth time around."

Dean took the smile as a win, a feeling which grew as Sam set the tablet down on the seat between them and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Besides, I get the feeling Charlie has about as many real friends as Kevin does, so their guest list would be a little short anyway."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," Dean said seriously. It wasn't like his address book was bursting at the seams, but it seemed strange to him that Charlie, who was so lively and endearing, didn't have more people in her life. She'd been living with them in the bunker for months now and Dean hadn't seen her make one personal call to fill anyone in on what was happening to her. It was a shame Dorothy had left when she did. She had been good for Charlie. There could have been something more there. He supposed it didn't matter really, as they both, Kevin and Charlie, had a place in their small family if they were lacking friends.

Sam glanced out of the window as they passed a sign declaring fifty miles to Oklahoma City and he smiled. "Nearly there," he said.

Dean nodded and pressed down a little harder on the gas. He had a feeling the key to keeping Sam's mood light was to get him to Castiel, and while he didn't understand it, he was happy to oblige.

The address Castiel had given them was to a tall building on a smart street. Dean whistled through his teeth as he pulled the car to a halt and they both climbed out.

"Not what I expected," he said.

Sam frowned up at the building. "Guess it makes sense. Buddy Boyle was a popular preacher and people like that tend to rack up big donations to the heavenly cause."

Dean nodded sagely. "People don't mind anteing up the cash if they think it will get them into Heaven."

Sam rolled his eyes. "They shouldn't bother. Heaven isn't picky. It let me in once after all."

"Sam!" Dean said harshly, but Sam was already walking away from him and through the double glass doors to Boyle's kingdom.

Dean hurried after him and came into a large lobby. Directly opposite the door there was a reception desk with a young woman seated behind it. Dean tagged her as human in her floral blouse showing a modest amount of cleavage. He'd never seen an angel dressed like that before. Sam was already striding towards her, and Dean hurried to catch up with him.

Before Sam could speak, she reached for the phone, pressed a button and then said, "The Winchesters have arrived. Yes, sir." She set the phone down and looked up at them. "Someone will be with you shortly."

"You know who we are?" Sam asked.

"You are Sam and Dean Winchester, and you're here to see Castiel." In response to Sam's raised eyebrow she said, "They told me what to expect."

"This should be interesting," Dean murmured then raised his voice. "And what were you expecting?"

"Denim and flannel, long hair on the big one and a scowl on the little one."

"Little?" Dean asked indignantly.

"And there's the scowl," she said, satisfied.

Sam coughed a laugh and then turned quickly as the elevator doors slid open. Dean's eyes fell on Castiel first and he grinned, then he took the full scene in and his smile fell. There was a man standing beside him. Dean knew he was an angel at once; from the tips of his polished oxfords to his bland haircut, he looked the part. He held himself differently, too, with posture only pageant queens and angels bothered with. He had to be Bartholomew. He oozed power and confidence. He looked every inch the dick Dean characterized angels as, standing in his black suit. Castiel seemed a diminutive figure beside him, though they were the same height and Castiel was standing just as straight-backed in his charcoal suit.

Dean quickly disregarded Bartholomew and addressed Castiel as he stepped out of the elevator. "Cas, man, it's good to see you." He walked towards his friend, and Castiel quickly held out a hand to shake. Frowning at the jerky movement, Dean took it and shook.

"Hello, Dean, Sam," Castiel said, shaking Sam's hand as well.

Sam looked just as puzzled as Dean was at the stiff greeting, but he didn't comment. Castiel released Sam and gestured to Bartholomew, "This is Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Of course," Bartholomew said with a smile. "How good to meet you at last. Castiel has told me so much about you."

"He has?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Bartholomew said, making the single word seem like a warning. "He has made me see that you are more than just the men who brought about the end of the world."

There was a small squeak of surprise from the woman behind the desk.

Dean glanced at Sam and saw his mouth was pressed into a thin line.

"Let's go somewhere we can speak freely," Bartholomew said. Castiel nodded and walked back into the elevator. Sam and Dean followed, and Bartholomew positioned himself in front of them.

The tension in the small car was thick as they traveled upwards. Dean thought he could feel it pouring from Castiel. He wished they were alone so he could ask him what the hell was going on.

The doors slid open and Bartholomew led them through a hall into a large office. The room was long and there were comfortable chairs around a low coffee table and at the opposite end a desk with a large chair behind it. It was so lacking in personality that Dean thought it could have belonged to anyone, male or female.

"Take a seat," Bartholomew invited, smiling at them.

Dean crossed the room and threw himself down onto the chair closest to the door, making the movement look easy and relaxed when internally he was tense and angry at the reminder of their history, which he was sure was intended to bother Sam more than him. Why the angel wanted to unsettle Sam, Dean wasn't sure.

Sam sat beside him, his own movements not nearly as relaxed as Dean's. Dean shifted in his seat and nudged Sam's elbow. Sam glanced at him from the side, and Dean gave him a pointed look, his message clear—lighten up.

Sam nodded once and a smile spread across his lips. "It's good to see you, Cas," he said, his words heartfelt.

"You too," Castiel said quietly, almost as if he was ashamed of the confession.

"Yes," Bartholomew said, taking a seat beside Sam and gesturing for Castiel to sit, too. "It's been hard to keep Castiel's mind on business for worrying about you and your… friends."

Dean frowned. Castiel had called a few times since he'd left, and they'd reassured him each time that everyone was okay, so it didn't make sense he was worrying about them. Dean guessed there was something else bothering Castiel.

"What exactly is your business?" Dean asked. "Cas hasn't told us much."

"We are seeking to reunite all angels under the same banner again," Bartholomew said smoothly. "Since the fall angels have been spread over the earth, ill-equipped to deal with its challenges. We want to bring them all together again, to protect them."

"That's quite the mission," Sam said. "If they're spread across the world, how are you finding them?"

"We have operatives on six continents searching for them and gathering them," Bartholomew answered.

Dean nodded slowly. "And what are you doing about Metatron?"

"Thus far, there is nothing we can do. It is believed he has ensconced himself in Heaven. Our operatives are searching for him as well as other angels, but there has been no sign. I assure you, though, that when he is found, he will be killed."

Sam turned to Castiel. "What's your job here, Cas?"

"He is my second," Bartholomew said proudly.

"He can't answer for himself?" Dean asked a little angrily.

"Of course he can. Castiel, tell your curious friends what we've been doing here."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "As Bartholomew said, I am his second-in-command. My role is mainly leading the search for Gadreel at the moment. All angels are alert for him. It is difficult, as few of us met him as an angel so would not recognize him if we were to see him again."

Dean remembered the angel that had come to kill him in the hospital and how he hadn't known who Gadreel was. Castiel had told them Gadreel had been in jail since the time of the Garden of Eden, and Dean guessed angels weren't much for visiting convicts.

"That is if he even has found a vessel again," Bartholomew said. "They are not easy to procure in this day and age.

Sam straightened in his seat. "What about his old vessel?"

"Yeah," Dean said, understanding. "He had a vessel when he came to the hospital as Zeke. He could have gone back to that one."

Bartholomew leaned forward. "What did he look like?"

"Like a dick," Dean said automatically.

Sam scowled at him. "Seriously, Dean?"

"We need to know," Bartholomew said intensely.

"What do you want me to do?" Dean asked. "Magic up a PhotoFIT of the brother high-jacking asshole?"

Sam sagged. He knew as well as Dean that there was no artistic talent in them.

"He came to you at the hospital," Castiel said in a tone of dawning realization. He turned to Bartholomew. "There may still be surveillance footage of him."

"Probably," Dean said. "When we left, he was unconscious. And it'd have been a strange one, what with me and Sam disappearing and him being dumped." Especially as Sam was supposed to be brain dead and on the way out when they'd disappeared.

Castiel looked animated. "I will have them search at once." He got to his feet and disappeared out of the room, leaving the brothers with Bartholomew.

Dean waited until the door had closed behind him and then turned his attention to Bartholomew. "I have a couple questions for you," he said.

Bartholomew looked amused. "I thought you might. What would you like to know, Dean Winchester?"

"We want to know what you really want from Cas," he asked.

"I want to return him to the glory of Heaven. He is proving a very capable second-in-command. He is regaining the respect of all angels by assisting me." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't expect you to understand, but Castiel was once among the greatest of us all. He commanded me in battle, and I have never known a commander like him. He was exceptional before he met you. Though his association with you Winchesters he has Fallen, killed thousands of angels, and become human."

"Yeah, that's our fault," Dean said scathingly. "He Fell for the sake of the world. He killed thousands when he was juiced up on Purgatory souls—something we tried to stop him doing—and he became human thanks to that dick Metatron."

"Your influence is what caused him to make those choices," Bartholomew said.

"Whatever," Dean said idly. "You can bring him back to the glory of Heaven, I think he'd like that, but if you try to hurt him, we will see that you die for it. And it won't be an easy death."

"No," Bartholomew said with a mirthless laugh. "I don't imagine it would be an easy death from the man that studied under Alastair."

Dean's face colored but his tone was mild as he replied. "You're not wrong. I know how to hurt. I will make sure to use everything I learned on you."

Sam laid a hand on his arm and Dean relaxed. "Right. Glad we got that sorted."

The door opened then and Castiel came back into the room holding a tablet in his hands. He looked wired, excited, and Dean felt a surge of hope.

"I think we found the footage," Castiel said. He brought the tablet to Dean who stood. "Is this him?"

Dean looked at the frozen video on the screen. It showed him and the angel he'd believed was Ezekiel walking along the hospital corridor together. "That's him," he spat, hatred at the sight of the angel filling him.

Sam peered over his shoulder and his expression darkened.

"What do we know about him?" Bartholomew asked.

"Berieah is running a program to search for him as we speak," Castiel said. "She believes she will have a name within a matter of a few hours."

"Wonderful," Bartholomew said.

"Awesome," Dean said, throwing an arm around Castiel's shoulders. "Well, Bart, we've got time, so me and Sam are going to take your 'very capable second' out for a beer. Right, Cas?"

Castiel looked at Bartholomew, seeming to seek permission. It made Dean's gall rise to see him acting like this.

"Of course you should," Bartholomew said. "We have a strategy meeting in two hours, Castiel, and you will of course be needed there, but until then you should absolutely spend time with your friends."

Castiel set the tablet down on the table and said. "Thank you, Bartholomew."

Dean led them out of the office and to the elevators, glancing back to see Sam's concerned look as he walked with Castiel. Dean felt the same. There was something going on with his friend, and he was going to find out what.

When they were ensconced in a bar a few blocks away from Bartholomew's place, with beers in front of them and the jukebox keeping their conversation private from the other patrons, Dean asked, "What's really going on, Cas?"

Castiel looked innocently confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what is really going on with that Bartholomew dick?"

Castiel sighed. "What he said was the truth. I am leading the search for Gadreel. I am largely left alone to lead the angels at my command. But…" He trailed off, looking troubled.

"But?" Sam prompted.

"There are other things I am not commanding," he said. "And they are the things I am not comfortable with. Bartholomew did not lie; he is searching for the other angels to bring them to our banner, but it is not as peaceful as he made it seem. The angels that are refusing to join us are being… persuaded and I do not agree with the methods. Angels are being hurt, even killed, for their refusal."

Sam looked stricken. Dean was confused. Sure, it sucked if vessels were dying, too, but they were angels. Surely he wasn't going to lose sleep over there being less of them in the world.

"Is he hurting you?" Sam asked.

"No," Castiel said quickly. "He has been good to me, giving me what he has and letting me stay out of that part of the battle. I just struggle with the loss of life."

"Then quit," Dean said easily. "Come back with us. You don't have to stay."

"I do," Castiel said quickly.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because this is the only way I am going to be able find Gadreel for you."

"We can do that ourselves," Dean said. "Now we've got a picture of him, we can have Charlie hack around and get us a name. We'll find him no worries. Come on, Cas, you're not happy here, so come home."

"I cannot," Castiel said. "I made an agreement with Bartholomew to stay."

"What kind of agreement can be important enough to stay like this for?" Dean asked.

Castiel's eyes flickered to Sam and then he quickly ducked his head.

"This is because of me," Sam stated. "This is my fault."

"No," Castiel said immediately. "There is no fault."

Sam drew a deep breath then wiped a hand over his face and said, "I heard you, Cas, you and Charlie talking that night."

Castiel looked horrified.

Dean frowned at him. "Saying what?"

Sam stared Castiel as he answered. "The grace Bartholomew gave Cas wasn't his own. It belonged to some other dick. Cas took it so he could save me, but it's not his. It doesn't work the way his own did. It's fading."

"Sam, I…" Castiel started apologetically.

"And he doesn't know what'll happen when it runs out," Sam went on. "It could kill him."

Dean sagged back in his seat, shock quickly morphing into anger. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked Castiel, then turned on Sam. "Why didn't you?"

"I was ashamed," Sam said. "I couldn't bear what he'd been forced to do, so I hid it. It's what I've been doing these past weeks—searching for a way to fix it for Cas."

Dean understood his shame. He'd made choices and people had done things for him before that made him feel the same way—like his father had when he'd made the deal for his life. He was still angry though. He could have helped Sam search.

"I am sorry," Sam said, fixing his eyes on Castiel. "I never meant for you to have to do that. And now you're stuck with that dick, and it's my fault."

"Do not apologize," Castiel said firmly, reaching across the table and gripping Sam's wrist forcefully. "I have no regrets for the choice I made as it enabled me to save you. The cost of working with Bartholomew is nothing compared to that."

Sam looked away, unable to meet Castiel's gaze.

"It's okay," Dean said bracingly. "We'll fix this. We've handled plenty worse before. Cas, can you hold out a little longer while we work out something for your grace problem?"

"Yes," Castiel said confidently. "I can feel it within me, and there is much left so we have much time."

"Awesome," Dean said. "Leave it to me and Sammy. You just keep on keeping on, okay?"

"Yes," Castiel said seriously. "I can do that."

"Good," Dean said.

Sam looked at him and Dean thought he saw some hope in his eyes. Sam had been working the problem solo, tying himself into knots over it. Though he wished his brother had spoken up sooner, Dean got why he hadn't. It didn't matter now anyway. They would fix the grace problem and then get Castiel away from Bartholomew, because his friend might not realize it, but he did need to be rescued, and not just from his fading grace. That asshole Bartholomew was cowing him, and Dean and Sam weren't going to leave him to deal with that alone.

Abaddon, Gadreel, Metatron, and now Bartholomew. There was a lot of work for them to do.

So… Bart's a dick, right? I'm sorry for sticking Castiel with him. It won't be forever, of course.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx