Dean scooped the still-asleep Mack into his arms, following Sam and Bobby up the front steps to a quaint looking home painted a dusty blue with white trim. Bobby knocked on the red door, and then took a step back, staying just ahead of Sam and Dean. They didn't have to wait long before the door swung open, revealing a strong, beautiful woman in her thirties with dark hair and a ready smile on her face.

"Bobby!" she greeted him, grabbing him into a hug and lifting him briefly off the ground. Sam and Dean exchanged a shocked look. "You're a sight for sore eyes," Bobby smiled when she set him back down. She took a step back, looking Sam and Dean up and down appraisingly. "So, these the boys?"

"Sam, Dean. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state," Bobby introduced them. "Hey," Dean greeted flirtatiously. "Hi," Sam said, more awkward than Dean's greeting. "Mmm-mmm-mmm," Pamela grinned, staring at Dean. "Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual."

"If you say so," Dean replied, adjusting his grip on Mack. "And that must be Miss Mckinley Grace. Come on in, you can lay her down." Bobby walked into the house, followed by Dean, then Sam and Pamela shut the door behind them. "So, you hear anything?" Bobby asked her as she led them further into the house. "Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why."

"So, what's next?"

"A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed. You can lay her down over there," Pamela gestured to a couch. Dean walked over, laying Mack down gently as Bobby addressed Pamela. "You're not gonna... summon the damn thing here?" The psychic shook her head in denial. "No. I just wanna get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

"I'm game," Dean piped up. Pamela led them to another room adjacent to the one Mack was sleeping in. She spread a black tablecloth covered in symbols over a small table. As she squatted in front of a cabinet to gather supplies, Dean tilted his head, reading a tattoo scrawled across her lower back that said 'Jesse Forever'. "Who's Jesse?" he asked curiously. She grinned back at him, laughing. "Well, it wasn't forever."

"His loss," Dean said. Pamela stopped in front of him, hands full of pillar candles. "Might be your gain." As she moved back toward the table, Dean turned to Sam with a smirk, lowering his voice. "Dude, I am so in." Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive."

"Hey, I just got out of jail. Bring it." Pamela passed them again, winking at Sam. "You're invited too, grumpy." When she moved away, Dean turned and pointed a finger at Sam furiously. "You are NOT invited." A few minutes later, Dean, Sam, Pamela and Bobby sat around the small table, which had six lighted candles in the center.

"Right, take each other's hands," Pamela instructed, waiting until they had all complied. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched." She slid her hand along Dean's inner thigh and he jumped, his knee hitting the underside of the table. "Whoa. Well, he didn't touch me there."

"My mistake," Pamela smirked, not looking apologetic in the slightest. Swallowing, Dean glanced around nervously, then broke the circle in order to lift his sleeve and show off the brand again. Sam gawked at it, then glanced at Bobby who was staring at it stoically. Pamela laid her hand over the handprint and closed her eyes. "Okay."

Sam, Dean and Bobby followed her lead, closing their eyes as well as Pamela began to chant. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." A television flicked on to static as she continued. "I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?" Dean repeated, having opened his eyes. "Its name," Pamela replied. "It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." White noise and static continued as the table began to shake. Sam and Bobby had also opened their eyes, leaving Pamela the only one with hers still shut. "I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face."

The boys were all looking around the room worriedly as the white noise and rattling became more violent. "Maybe we should stop," Bobby suggested, but Pamela just dismissed him. "I almost got it. I conjure and command you, show me your face. Show me your face, now!" Suddenly, the candles at the center flared up several feet in the air and Pamela began to scream. Her eyes flew open, filled with a white-hot flame. She collapsed and the rattling, white noise and flames died out.

"Call 9-1-1," Bobby commanded, catching Pamela and lowering her to the floor. Sam scrambled out of his chair into the room where Mack was while Dean leaned over Bobby and Pamela. Pamela was still conscious, but bleeding and burned badly, and her eyelids flew open to reveal black, empty sockets. "I can't see!" she sobbed. "I can't see! Oh, God!" They could hear Sam's frantic voice in the other room, calling for an ambulance.

Blessedly, Mack hadn't woken up during the séance. She did wake up when they got to a local diner for lunch after. Bobby had gone with Pamela to the hospital. "Be up in a jiff," the waitress informed Dean after taking their orders. As she left, Sam walked over, speaking into his cell phone. "You bet," he said, hanging up and sitting at the table with Dean and Mack. "What'd Bobby say?" Dean asked.

"Pam's stable," Sam replied. "And out of I.C.U."

"And blind, because of us," Dean grumbled. Mack looked at him curiously. She hadn't gotten to meet Pamela, the ambulance taking the older woman away before she could. "And we still have no clue who we're dealing with," Sam added. "That's not entirely true." Sam gave Dean a look. "No?"

"We got a name," Dean pointed out. "Castiel, or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us." Sam was staring at him like he'd grown another head. "You're crazy. Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?"

"Pam got a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?" Dean challenged his brother, who nodded. "As a matter of fact, I do. I followed some demons to town, right?"

"Okaaay," Dean said slowly, not quite seeing where Sam was going with this. "So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something." The waitress reappeared with three plates of pie, setting them down on the table. "Thanks," Sam told her. She then sat down, and Dean looked at her, smirking. "You angling for a tip?"

"I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us." She blinked, her eyes turning pitch black. A uniformed man at the counter and the cook behind the counter also showed off demon eyes, the uniformed one walking over to lock the door and then stood in front of it, blocking their only exit. The waitress blinked her eyes back to normal. "Dean. To Hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?"

"That's me," Dean smirked. The waitress glared. "So, you just get to stroll out of the pit, huh? What makes you so special?"

"I like to think it's because of my perky nipples. I don't know. Wasn't my doing. I don't know who pulled me out."

"Right. You don't," the waitress rolled her eyes sarcastically. "No. I don't," Dean shot back. "Lying's a sin, you know," she purred. "I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo..." The waitress glared, getting visibly frustrated. "Mind your tone with me, boy. I'll drag you back to Hell myself."

Sam, who had been glaring daggers at the waitress through the entire exchange, shifted as if to attack. However, Dean held out a hand to stop him and he settled back in his seat. "No, you won't," Dean told the demoness. "No?" she smirked at him, daring him to go on.

"No. Because if you were, you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade, that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up at your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose."

"I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," the demoness threatened. Dean leaned forward, a challenge in his eyes. He threw a right hook at her, which she took. He threw a second one with the same result. All she did was glare at them, looking increasingly more and more nervous. "That's what I thought," Dean scoffed, standing. "Let's go, Sam." Sam rose as well, Mack staying close to him while Dean paused, carefully pulling a ten dollar bill off of a roll of cash and dropping it on the table in front of the demoness. "For the pie."

He grabbed Mack's hand, dragging her along as Sam followed them out the door and over to the Impala. "Holy crap, that was close," Dean breathed. "We're not just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?" Sam asked, staring across the top of the car at him. "Well, yeah, there's three of them, probably more, and we only got one knife between us."

"I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately," Sam tried to reason. "Not anymore- the smarter brother's back in town," Dean shot back. "Dean, we've got to take 'em. They're dangerous."

"They're scared. Okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time." Dean opened the back door, letting Mack climb in, and then closed her door and got in the front behind the wheel. Sam begrudgingly climbed in as well, and they took off.

Late that night, Dean dozed on the couch with a large book open in his lap. Mack was asleep in one of the beds and Sam lay in the other. Sam got up, sneaking out quietly to make sure his niece and brother wouldn't wake up. A few minutes later, the television turned on with static, and the radio started whining as well. The noise woke both Dean and Mack. She scrambled out of bed, hurrying to his side as he grabbed a shotgun lying by the bed. "Stay behind me, bug," he instructed, noticing Sam's empty bed and grimacing.

Just then, a high pitched whine joined the static noises and Mack covered her ears in pain. Dean used his free hand to cover his right ear, keeping the shotgun in his left hand. As the mirror on the ceiling shattered, he immediately turned and shielded Mack with his body before the glass could hurt her too badly. He crumpled to the ground, still shielding her small frame underneath him as a scream tore from his throat. The door banged open, Bobby entering the room as more glass shattered around the room.

"Dean! Mckinley!"

Bobby helped Dean up, Mack cradled in the father's arms as they hurried from the room. Down in Bobby's car, Dean helped Mack clean the few small cuts she had before moving on to his own wounds. Mack was shaking, clinging to him and whimpering softly. "How you doin', kid?" Bobby asked him. "Aside from the church bells ringin' in my head, peachy," Dean replied. He set down the towel, cradling Mack against him as he pulled his phone out to call Sam.

"Hey," Sam answered. "What are you doing?" he asked him. "Couldn't sleep. Went out to get a burger."

"In my car?"

"Force of habit. Sorry. What are you doing up?"

"Well, uh, Bobby's back," Dean informed him. "We're going to grab a beer." Bobby gave him a shocked look, and he held up a finger before going back to soothing Mack. "Alright, well, uh, spill some for me, huh?" Sam replied. "Done. Catch you later." Dean hung up and Bobby glared over at him. "Why the hell didn't you tell him?"

"Because he'd just try to stop us."

"From what?"

"Summoning this thing." Bobby gave him another shocked look, and Dean rolled his eyes. "It's time we faced it head-on."

"You can't be serious!" the older man cried, focus torn between Dean and the road. "As a heart attack," Dean replied. "It's high noon, baby." Bobby shook his head, swallowing. "Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we've got to be ready for anything. We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk..." Bobby was still shaking his head. "This is a bad idea."

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more. But what other choice do we have?"

"We could choose life!"

"Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand." Bobby was silent for a long moment following Dean's words. Mack had quieted down, still shaking slightly despite the fact she was half asleep once more. "Dean, we could use Sam on this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is," Dean shook his head.

Mack sat on the edge of one of the tables they'd set up at the back of the abandoned barn they'd found to perform the ritual in. Dean stood nearby, setting up another one of the tables with every weapon he could gather from Bobby's trunk. Bobby was off at the other end of the barn, finishing painting a symbol on the cement floor. The entire floor, walls and ceiling were all decked out in hundreds of different symbols like the one he was finishing.

"That's a hell of an art project you got going there," Dean called over to him. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin'?" Bobby walked over to join him as he listed off several different weapons. "Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?" Dean moved back over by Mack while Bobby nodded reluctantly and went over to a desk which was set up with various summoning ingredients. Taking a pinch of dust from a bowl, he sprinkled it into a larger bowl, making the concoction start to smoke. Dean and Mack looked on as he chanted the spell in Latin. When he finished, they looked around, waiting for something to happen.

Nearly twenty minutes passed, and still nothing had happened. Dean had sat down next to Mack and Bobby had sat down next to the summoning spell across from them. Mack had laid down with her head in Dean's lap, getting sleepy again. "You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean whined, earning a glare from Bobby. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?" As if on cue, a loud rattling shook the roof at that moment.

Mack shot up, looking around as Dean and Bobby stood up warily, arming themselves with shotguns as they prepared for whatever was happening. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean muttered, earning another glare from Bobby. The doors burst open and a handsome man in a business suit and trench coat stocked in. The lightbulbs above him shattered in a shower of sparks as he passed each of them. As he approached, Dean and Bobby opened fire, but the shots didn't even slow him down.

As he got closer, Dean grabbed the demon knife, hefting it in his hand. "Who are you?" he demanded of the man. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he replied, voice deep and rough. Dean grimaced. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

Dean reared back, stabbing the knife into the creature's heart. He looked down at the blade with an almost amused expression, pulling it out with ease and dropping it to the floor. Behind him, Bobby launched an attack with a crowbar, but was stopped midair as the creature grabbed the weapon without looking. He swung it around, and he touched two finger's to Bobby's forehead, causing him to crumble to the floor.

"We need to talk, Dean," the creature continued. "Alone." He looked to Mack, taking a step forward, but Dean blocked the way. "If you touch her, it'll be the last thing you ever do," the father snarled protectively. The newcomer tilted his head, studying Dean for a moment. "Nothing you have here can hurt me, Dean."

Despite the statement, he did relent and didn't try to get over to Mack again. Instead, he headed over to look at the book containing the ritual Bobby had used to summon him. While he did so, Dean crouched down to check Bobby's pulse. "Your friend's alive," the creature informed him casually. Dean glared over at him. "Who are you?" he asked again.

"Castiel," the creature replied. "Yeah. I figured that much. I mean, what are you?" Castiel looked over at him, expression unreadable. "I'm an Angel of the Lord." Dean shook his head, already refusing to believe it. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Dean's eyes widened as lightning flashed and the shadow of two giant wings appeared on the back wall behind Castiel, spreading wide and stretching into the distance. Mack had hopped down off the table and was staring at Castiel with a similar expression as her father, mouth slightly open in an 'oh' shape. As the light disappeared, the image of the wings vanished as well. Instead of conceding to the fact he was wrong, Dean immediately went on the offensive, refusing to let his guard down.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form," Castiel replied matter-of-factly. "It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that." Dean raised his eyebrows, realizing Castiel was talking about the high pitched sound that had hurt his and Mack's ears. "You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?" Castiel nodded. "Buddy, next time lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

"And what visage are you in now, huh?" Dean asked, taking in Castiel's appearance. "What, holy tax accountant?" Castiel looked down, lifting one side of the ratty beige trench coat. "This? This is... a vessel." That news floored Dean. This man- the boyish face, the dark hair that stuck out at odd angles, all of it- was actually human. Which meant that-

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Castiel tilted his head, as if the question confused him. "He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no way what this creature was saying was true. No way did some guy, some normal human guy, pray and get possessed by an angel. Angels didn't exist, and he had no problem letting this thing know what he really thought.

"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" Castiel frowned, getting closer to Dean, and he was struck by how blue his eyes were. No one's eyes were that blue. "I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience."

Castiel went quiet, getting even closer as he tilted his head in confusion. "What's the matter?" he asked softly. "You don't think you deserve to be saved?" Dean's heart was thudding out of his chest. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, voice threatening to break. "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you to do."

You could have heard a pin drop. Dean's breaths were coming out fast and low, edging toward hyperventilation. He opened his mouth once more, a snarky comment about how God wasn't real on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get his voice to work. Between Castiel's close proximity and the barrage of information he'd just received, his brain was in shutdown mode. Then he felt something grab his hand and he turned away from those intense blue eyes to look down. Mack had come over, putting her small hand in his. He felt his chest start to loosen and his breathing began to return to normal almost immediately.

He had done this same thing with her before; any time she started to freak out over something, he'd take her hand and they'd breathe together until she calmed down. He never thought she'd ever have to do it for him, instead. She looked away from him up at Castiel who's attention had also turned to her when Dean looked away from him. "Hello, little one," he greeted her, smiling.

"Hello," she replied, almost too quiet to be heard. Dean's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected her to say a word, maybe shrink away from the supposed angel to lean in closer to him, but she hadn't. She was staring up at Castiel with all the wonder and amazement of a child. "May I?" Castiel asked her. He reached out for Skittles, which had gotten several tears and holes in it when the glass had shattered in the motel room.

She held it out to him, and his palm shone with white light as he waved his hand over the stuffed animal. All the tears disappeared, leaving the rabbit as good as new. The ear she had rubbed thin over the years was even back to normal. Dean continued to stare, dumbstruck as Mack grinned and hugged the bunny close to her. And then he shook his head, and forced himself back on track.

"Okay, hold on. What do you mean, 'you have work for me to do'? What work?" Castiel looked away from Mack back at him, and Dean tried not to react too much to having those damn eyes focused on him. "You will learn when the time comes," he replied mysteriously, and Dean couldn't hold back the eye roll. "Yeah, okay, Yoda. Why can't you tell me now?"

"I just told you. It is not yet time," Castiel insisted. "I must leave now, but I will be in touch." He looked back at Mack with a small smile. "Farewell, little one." With a faint rustling sound, Castiel vanished. Dean gaped at the spot he had just been standing, unable to grasp what had just happened. Behind him, there was a groan, and he turned to see Bobby stirring on the ground.

"Bobby?" he asked hesitantly. The older hunter sat up, rubbing his head. "What happened?" he asked, looking up at Dean. "I- I'm still not entirely sure." He helped Bobby to his feet and they gathered everything back up to put back in the trunk. Dean kept glancing back at Mack all the way back to Sioux Falls. They'd called Sam and told him to meet them back at the house. She was still grinning a little, staring down at her rabbit with a newfound light in her eyes, and he wondered if maybe Castiel showing up had actually been a good thing after all.