Bobby sat at his desk, a pile of books in front of him. Sam sat in the opposite corner, talking to Dean, who was standing. Mack was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing with a pack of crayons. Every single one of the pictures she'd colored so far featured a man in a long coat with giant, black wings on his back.

"Well, then tell me what else it could be," Sam challenged his brother. Dean was still having trouble coming to terms that Castiel was an actual angel who had saved him from Hell. "Look, all I know is I was not groped by an angel," he argued. Sam sighed, getting fed up with Dean's behavior. "Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it?"

"Maybe he's some kind of demon. Demons lie." Over at the desk, Bobby looked over at the boys. Mack had done the same thing at the table. "A demon who's immune to salt rounds and devil's traps... and Ruby's knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!"

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one... at some point... ever?" Dean asked desperately, earning another eye roll from Sam. "Yeah, Dean. You just did."

"I'm trying to come up with a theory, here. Okay? Work with me."

"Dean, we have a theory."

"Yeah, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please." Sam and Dean glared at each other and Sam opened his mouth to try and reason with Dean. "Okay, look. I'm not saying we know for sure. I'm just saying that I think we-"

"Okay, okay. That's the point," Dean cut him off desperately. "We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking Angel of the Lord because it says so!" Sam was glaring at him again and he met his gaze evenly. "You two chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?" Bobby called over to them. Dean glanced over at Mack, who was focused on drawing once more, and then followed Sam over to meet Bobby at the desk.

"I got stacks of lore- Biblical, pre-Biblical. Some of it's in damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit." Dean, unbelievably stubborn man that he was, immediately sought for a different answer. "What else?"

"What else what?"

"What else could do it?" he asked. Sam and Bobby were giving him identical you've gotta be kidding me looks. "Airlift your ass out of the hot box?" Bobby scoffed. "As far as I can tell, nothing." That was not the answer Dean wanted to hear. Sam, however, was getting excited at the prospect. "Dean, this is good news."

"How?" Dean looked at his brother. "Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap," Sam pointed out. "I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?" Dean looked over at Mack again. She hadn't spoken since telling Castiel hello in the barn, but that moment had stuck with him. Part of him again considered the possibility that Sam was right, that him being saved by Castiel was a good thing. It couldn't be completely terrible if it made Mack start acting like herself again, right?

"Okay. Say it's true," Dean swallowed. "Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?" He thought about Castiel's message to him to explain why he had pulled him out of Hell: "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you to do."

"At this point, Vegas money's on yeah," Bobby answered, unaware of Dean's train of thought. Dean shook his head, putting the guards in his head back up. "I don't know, guys."

"Okay, look. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof," Sam insisted. Another phrase popped into his head unbidden, spoken in Castiel's deep gravel: "That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." This was getting absolutely ridiculous. "Proof?" Dean echoed, desperation filling his voice. "Yes," Sam nodded.

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally?" Dean walked around to the other side of Bobby's desk, starting to pace. "I'm sorry, I'm not buying it." His mind reminded him of his similar words to Castiel not two days ago. "Why not?" Sam demanded. "Because why me? If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"

"Dean-"

"I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy."

"Apparently you're a regular guy who's important to the man upstairs."

"Well, that creeps me out," Dean shook his head. "I mean, I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by... God." Sam set his jaw, fixing Dean with a hard stare and going with the analogy. "Okay, well, too bad Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat." Dean hung his head, deflating as he sighed. "Fine. What do we know about angels?"

Bobby picked up yet another pile of fat and weighty looking books and set them on the desk in front of Dean. "Start reading." Dean eyed the pile for a moment, then turned to Sam. "You're gonna get me some pie." He grabbed the top book from the pile and went to sit down and start reading.

Dean jolted awake, the book in his lap falling to the ground. Sam and Bobby had left some time earlier to check out a lead. Bobby had been trying to reach another hunter for information on angels, but hadn't heard back in a couple of days. Sam had called about an hour ago to inform him that the hunter friend was dead, and that they were going to look into some other nearby hunters that weren't answering their phones.

He would have gone with them, but Mack was tired and he didn't want to drag her along unnecessarily. So, while Mack was up in her room, he had continued working through the giant pile of angel books Bobby had gathered and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Blinking wearily, he finally registered the fact that Castiel was standing in the middle of the room in front of him.

"Where is Mckinley?" the angel asked him. Dean narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious. "Up in her room. Why?"

"I need to get her somewhere safe," Castiel replied. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?" Dean stopped him before he could move. "We don't have time to argue about this, Dean. It is about to get extremely dangerous here and Mckinley needs to get away."

"So, I'll take her away as soon as you tell me what the hell is so dangerous." Castiel glared at him, clearly already fed up with the conversation. "I just told you we don't have time for this. I will return Mckinley as soon as the danger is passed."

"Wait! Castiel!"

The angel didn't wait, disappearing from the room. Heart thudding in his chest, Dean took off running up the stairs, flinging open the door to Mack's room. It was totally empty, no sign of Castiel or his daughter. He felt his anxiety spiking as his phone started to ring. However, before he could answer it, he froze as a familiar looking ghost appeared in front of him.

"Hello, Dean," the young woman greeted him. "What's the matter? Don't you recognize me?" He swallowed, remembering the demon Meg with shorter blonde hair. The ghost in front of him was a brunette and her hair fell to her shoulders, but there was no mistake she was the same person. "This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut."

"Meg?" he breathed, and she smiled sinisterly. "Hi. It's okay, I'm not a demon." He nodded, understanding, "You're the girl the demon possessed."

"Meg Masters," she introduced herself. "Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood." She held up her hands, smirking. "It's okay. Seriously, I'm just a college girl. Sorry- was. I was walking home one night and got jumped by all this smoke. Next thing you know, I'm a prisoner..." she put a hand to her head, "in here. Now, I was awake. I had to watch while she murdered people."

"I'm sorry," Dean shook his head, backing slowly from the room. Meg advanced, following his every step. "Oh, yeah? So sorry you had me thrown off a building?" Dean winced, remembering the trap back in Chicago that had been set for his dad. He, Sam and Mack had gone there, expecting to find the demon who'd killed his mom and Sam's girlfriend, Jess, and instead they'd been turned into bait. There had been a fight, and it had ended with Meg, then possessed by a demon, falling eight stories to the pavement below.

"Well, we thought-" Dean began, but was cut off by the ghost. "No, you didn't think! I kept waiting, praying! I was trapped in there, screaming at you! 'Just help me, please!' You're supposed to help people, Dean. Why didn't you help me?" He shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he stared back at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Stop saying you're sorry!" She slapped him, sending him flying across the floor in the hallway. He was suddenly grateful Castiel had taken Mack away when he did, even though he had no idea where he had taken her to. "Meg. Meg..." Dean pleaded, as she kicked him hard. "We didn't know."

"No," she nodded, "you just attacked. Did you ever think there was a girl in here? No. You just charged in, slashing and burning. You think you're some kind of hero?"

"No, I don't," he admitted truthfully. Meg grabbed the front of his jacket, and he noticed her hand had a brand on it. "You're damn right," she hissed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be ridden for months by pure evil... while your whole family has no idea what happened to you?"

"We did the best we could," he defended. In response, she shoved him back and kicked him again. He coughed, spitting out blood as she stood over him. "It wasn't just me, Dean. I had a sister. A little sister. She worshiped me. You know how little siblings are, right? How they'll do anything for you. She was never the same after I disappeared. She just... She just got lost. And when my body was lying in the morgue, beat-up and broken..."

"Meg..."

"Do you know what that did to her? She killed herself!" She kicked Dean in the stomach, making him choke up more blood. "Because of you, Dean! Because all you were thinking about was your family, your revenge, your demons! Fifty words of Latin a little sooner, and I'd still be alive. My baby sister would still be alive. That blood is on your hands, Dean!"

He was vaguely aware of movement downstairs- Bobby and Sam must have gotten back. He looked up at Meg brokenly. "You're right," he replied. She kicked him again as Sam's voice carried up from the floor below. "Dean? Kinley?" Dean didn't call back to him, instead grabbing his gun out from where he kept it in the waistband of his jeans and pointed it in Meg's direction.

"Come on, Dean, did your brain get french-fried in Hell? You can't shoot me with bullets."

"I'm not shooting you." Raising the gun a little higher, he pulled the trigger, sending the wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling crashing down on Meg's head. "Iron," he wheezed, leaning his head back. Footsteps rushed up the stairs and Sam appeared at the end of the hall. "Dean," he said, rushing to his side. He helped him up, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and guiding him down the stairs. "Where's Kinley?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Castiel took her somewhere to keep her safe. He didn't tell me where, he just took her." Sam gave him a perplexed look. "Castiel took her? And you let him?" Dean rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't let him. He insisted it was too dangerous for her to stay here, and when I tried to argue, he just left with her." They had reached the study, and Sam helped Dean sit down on the couch.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked, having only caught the end of Dean's statement. "Apparently Castiel took Kinley somewhere," Sam explained. "We don't know where." Bobby opened his mouth, looking ready to provide his input to the situation, but Dean cut him off. "So these ghosts... they're not just people we know. They're people we couldn't save. Hey, I saw something on Meg. Did she have a tattoo when she was alive?"

"I don't think so," Sam shook his head. "It was like a- a mark on her hand- almost like a brand," Dean continued. "I saw a mark, too, on Henriksen," Sam nodded. "What did it look like?" Bobby asked. "Uh, paper?" Sam took the proffered paper, sketching the mark he'd seen on Henriksen. When he finished, he showed it to Dean for comparison. It looked almost like a tree inside of a circle. Dean nodded in confirmation. "That's it."

Sam handed the paper to Bobby, who studied it for a moment. "I may have seen this before. We got to move."

"Whoa," Sam protested as Bobby grabbed a handful of books. "Follow me."

"Okay, where are we going?" Sam asked, helping Dean stand back up. Bobby glared at him pointedly. "Someplace safe, ya idjit."

Mack sat on the bench next to Castiel, watching the other kids playing on the playground. He'd brought her to some random park several states away from Bobby's house in an attempt to keep her away from the raising of the witnesses. As her guardian angel, he had felt obligated to get her far from the murderous ghosts who were at this very moment attacking her father, uncle and grandfather figure. She was clutching the rabbit he'd restored for her tightly, rubbing circles on one of its ears with her thumb.

"Do you want to go play, little one?" he asked her. She looked up at him, shaking her head. "No. When can I go back to Daddy?" He swallowed, looking away from her at the other children her age. "Soon. Your father has to make it safe for you again before you can go back."

"Were there monsters?"

"Yes," he replied, seeing no reason to lie to her. Mack's understanding of the supernatural world exceeded that of other kids her age. Whereas they were either still afraid of the monster under their bed, or starting to grow out of that childish fear, she understood the truth. Monsters were real, and her father fought them along with her uncle. "They were ghosts."

Mack looked up at him, green eyes wide, then went back to watching the children play. It confused him why she refused to talk, unless it was to him, and then only speaking very few words. He had thought that when he raised Dean from Hell and made sure that he was reunited with her that she would go back to talking like she used to, before Dean's death. He had seen Dean's reaction to her telling him hello in the barn, and it upset him in ways he didn't quite understand.

"Mckinley?" he asked, drawing her attention back to him. "Why do you refuse to speak around your father?" She averted her gaze, hugging Skittles closer to her body. "Because I'm scared," she whispered quietly. Castiel titled his head, confused at the confession. "Why are you scared?" He couldn't think of any possible reason for her to be scared to speak in front of Dean. Dean was her father, and loved her very much. He kept her safe from the monsters.

"What if he leaves me again?" Mack asked, her voice timid. A pang of something went through Castiel's being at that question. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, but he did know that her words upset him. "Dean isn't going to leave you again, Mckinley," he informed her. She looked back up at him and he was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes. "How do you know?"

"I won't allow that to happen," he promised her solemnly. A few tears had escaped, running down her cheeks in pearly droplets. Instead of responding to his vow, she buried her face in the top of her rabbit's head, hugging it tighter still. He focused on sensing Dean, trying to understand what the status was on defeating the ghosts. He could sense Dean's distress; one of the ghosts was hurting him severely. However, a moment later, his distress went down just slightly as either Sam or Bobby got rid of the ghost.

A sound to his right suddenly distracted him, and he looked over at Mack again. "What was that?" he asked, confused what the noise was. "I'm hungry," she answered. Understanding, he caused a small container of macaroni and cheese to appear and presented it to her. He had learned it was one of her favorite meals while observing her since being assigned as her guardian angel last year.

She ate the meal quickly, setting aside the container when she had finished. Yawning, she leaned over and curled up on the bench with her head in his lap. Castiel sat perfectly still, initially unsure how he was supposed to react. Thinking about the times he had seen her lay this way on Dean, he brought his hand up to stroke her hair in a repetitive motion. The young girl let out a little sigh of contentment, closing her eyes. He continued the motion until he felt her breathing even out as she succumbed to sleep.

That was something else he was worried about with her. She seemed to tire easily, sleeping through most of the day. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure children her age weren't supposed to act that way. Maybe it was worth bringing up to Dean the next time they spoke. He focused once more on Dean. He sensed elevated levels of anxiety, though that was typical, especially in the middle of a hunt. Mack shifted a little in her sleep, drawing his focus away from her father.

Her brow was furrowed and her face pinched up, a sign of distress. He knew she was dreaming about the night her father was killed by the hellhound that had dragged his soul down to Hell. It had been a frequent nightmare of hers over the past several months. Touching two fingers to her temple, he dispelled the dream and sent her into a state of peace. He relaxed as her face took on a more serene expression while she slept. Daring to tear his focus away from her, he focused on her father once more. His anxiety levels had lowered, a sign that perhaps he and the others had succeeded.

The playground had cleared out as he had sat there with Mack, the families all returning to their homes to get ready for bed. Gathering the sleeping child in his arms, Castiel took her back to Bobby's house. After laying her gently in her bed, he went downstairs. Dean woke up, glancing over to make sure Sam was still asleep on the floor before making his way over to him.

"Excellent job with the witnesses," Castiel told him. Dean's expression darkened. "Where's my daughter?"

"Asleep in her room. She remained safe, just as I promised." Dean seemed skeptical, but decided to let it slide in light of everything that had happened. "You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest."

"But you didn't," Castiel stated in his usual matter-of-fact tone. He had sensed when that was occurring, but knew one of the others would help Dean. "I thought angels were supposed to be guardians," Dean spat. "Fluffy wings, halos- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks."

"Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier." He didn't feel the need to add that he was admittedly assigned to be Mack's guardian. It wasn't of import at the moment, and could always be brought up at a later time. "Yeah? Then why didn't you fight?"

"I was busy making sure Mckinley was safe. I thought you would agree that that was of greater concern than providing my assistance here." Dean scowled, obviously seeing Castiel's point and not liking the logic behind it. "Whatever. There are other angels, right? Where were any of them?"

"My brothers and sisters had larger concerns."

"Concerns? There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?"

"There's a God," Castiel insisted. "I'm not convinced," Dean replied. "'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

"The Lord works..."

"If you say 'mysterious ways', so help me, I will kick your ass," Dean growled, and Castiel raised his hands in a gesture of surrender before leaning back against the kitchen counter. "So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse?"

"That's why we're here," Castiel confirmed. "Big things afoot." Dean eyed him skeptically. "Do I wanna know what kind of things?" Castiel studied him silently for a moment. Once again, Dean was struck by how blue his eyes were. Even in the darkness of the kitchen with only the light of the moon trickling through the window, Castiel's eyes shone. He shoved those thoughts aside, though, as the angel opened his mouth.

"I seriously doubt it, but you need to know. The raising of the witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals."

"Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld."

"Those seals are being broken by Lilith," Castiel informed him, the reference going right over his head. Dean swallowed, processing that piece of information. "She did the spell. She rose the witnesses." Castiel nodded in confirmation. "Mm-hm. And not just here. Twenty other hunters are dead."

He had made sure when taking Mack away, to take her somewhere he knew the witnesses weren't being raised. However, again, he didn't feel compelled to inform Dean of that little bit of information. The father knew his daughter had been kept safe, that was all that mattered.

"Of course," Dean murmured, unaware of Castiel's thoughts. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us."

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor," Castiel commented wryly. "Well, we put those spirits back to rest," Dean pointed out. "It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"Why break the seals anyway?"

"You think of the seals as locks on a door," Castiel began. "Okay, last one opens, and..." Dean trailed off, waiting for Castiel to finish explaining. "Lucifer walks free." Dean was silent following the statement. "Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

"Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me," Castiel pointed out. "Why do you think we're here walking among you for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer."

"That's why we've arrived."

"Well... bang up job so far. Stellar work on the witnesses. That's nice."

"We tried," Castiel informed him with some frustration. "And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost. Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me more respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in."

It was an empty threat, but Dean didn't need to know that. He had sworn to Mack that he would make certain she wouldn't lose him again. He disappeared without letting Dean get another word in. Dean stared at the spot where he had been standing for a moment longer, then steeled quietly up the stairs. He peeked into Mack's room, confirming that she was indeed there, and sleeping soundly. He crossed over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Good night, bug," he whispered, sneaking back out of the room. He went back to the couch, laying awake for another hour or so before he fell back asleep.