Some spoilers up through season 12. Takes place post British Men of Letters, but before Cas got really involved in any Lucifer/Kelly/Nephilim drama. Slight AU where Mary is still off hunting alone, and the boys never got locked up in a secret prison by the secret service. Life doesn't start really going wrong until the next chapter.

CW: Contains or mentions: Injury, illness, death, alcohol abuse, hell, suicidal thoughts.

This is not a deathfic, and it does not contain slash.


Dean reached into the Men of Letters' fridge, pulling out the last bottle of beer. He frowned as he took the cardboard carton out and took one last glance inside to confirm the count. He had finished off the last of the whiskey last night. Uncapping the beer in his hand, he made a mental note to add 'beer run' to the list of things to do that afternoon. He turned and walked back out to the map room, sinking down into the chair opposite Sam.

"Any news?" He prompted.

"You mean any cases?"

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Tomato. Tomahto."

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes. "No, still quiet out there."

"Damn." Dean sighed, leaning back as far as the old chair would let him. "What's this, nine days? What, did all the monsters decide to take a holiday? Was there a memo we just missed?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe." he offered. "But bad guys seem to come in waves, so don't worry. We'll be back to drowning soon."

"Not soon enough."

"If you're going stir crazy why don't you grab Cas and head into town. We could use a serious re-supply. I don't think we have any food left that doesn't come from a box."

"When did you become such a picky eater?"

"As soon as we had a fridge we could keep real food in?" Sam shook his head, smiling as Dean pulled a face. "One of us has to eat a vegetable every once in a while."

"Well, I'm happy you decided to take that bullet for the both of us Sammy."

Sam's sure-to-be-witty come-back was interrupted by Cas' entrance, a frown etched deeper on his normally serious face.

"Cas?" Dean asked tentatively. "Whats up, bud?"

"Angels…"

"Angels near here?" Sam hoped to clarify.

"Almost right on top of us. They're following a demon. He's the one who has been killing Angels…"

"The demon, he coming at us?" Dean stood, unsure if something needed doing.

Castiel tilted his head, looking away as if to listen closer. "No, I don't think so. He's just running. The angel's plan is to smite him."

"How many angels we talking?"

"Six… I should go, they may need help…" Cas turned towards the door but before he could even take a step, the lights cut to half power, red emergency lights making up the lost brightness. The unmistakable clunk of a massive locking mechanism sounded right before the alarm began to sound, and one large red dot illuminated, centered around Kansas, on the map in the middle of the room.

Both brothers were standing now, Dean pulling a handgun from under the table on instinct, trying to prepare for whatever was next to come. "What the hell-"

"The demon has been smote." Cas said simply, the thoughtful expression on his face seeming entirely unaware in the change of his immediate surroundings.

"Well, that's nice." Dean said dismissively, louder to be heard over the noise of the alarms. "What the hell is going on here?"

"You said they were practically on top of us?" Sam said, waiting for the angel's nod before continuing. "Maybe that triggered some sort of alarm in the bunker's perimeter…"

"Cas… if they're on top of us… are we going to get that… that…" Dean was snapping his fingers, trying to think of the words he wanted. Sam stared in confusion as his brother continued his struggle. "You know, with the fever and the throwing up and the falling over…"

Cas nodded slowly under his furrowed brow. "...Smiting sickness?"

Dean snapped one final time, smiling. "Yep, that's the one. Are we going to get that smiting sickness?"

Cas was just as slow to shake his head, frowning somehow deeper. "No. With the warding on the bunker, you should be shielded from a smiting of that many angels. However, the surrounding woods will be awash with fallout for the next few days."

Sam was pulling a thick red-bound handwritten text from the wall of books in the main room while Cas spoke. He dragged it to the table, sitting and beginning to read it as the lights switched back to full power, and the blaring alarm cut out.

Dean hopped up the steps two at a time before trying to pull open the large door. It did not budge.

"Here." Sam announced, holding the book. "It's a failsafe."

"The door is locked." Dean supplied, uselessly.

"Yeah, shut up for a minute and I'll tell you about it." Sam snapped, but without any venom. Dean bristled, but quieted down, stepping away from the door and leaning on the balcony railing, waiting for the rest of the explanation. Sam continued. "In cases where an extreme and potentially dangerous supernatural force is detected within a certain proximity of the bunker, a lockdown spell is enacted. Nothing can get in or out until the quarantine period is met."

"The quarantine period?"

"Seven days."

"Wait… so we're stuck here for seven days? Oh hell no."

Sam shut the book, leaning back again. "I guess six angels smiting the hell out of a guy counts."

"No Sam, we've done this dance. We're not sticking around here because our perimeter alarm got dinged or whatever."

"Well, we have air and water this time, so it's bound to be a tiny bit better."

Dean came back down the stairs. "I mean it. I'm done with this whole house arrest thing."

Sam shrugged, pushing the book towards him. "The few spells this guy installed on the bunker seem to be the few without work arounds. Besides, if Cas is right, we don't really want to get near the surface until the fallout clears anyway."

Dean scowled. "What happened to your complaints about food."

"I lived on mac and cheese and tuna fish for years, I'll manage a few more days."

"Oh now it's good enough for you." Dean muttered, barely above a whisper, but he was mostly just teasing his brother. Sam's not-too-well hidden amusement went unnoticed by the older Winchester, however. He was annoyed at the inconvenience, he had plans. Not, big plans, but at least a plan in motion that involved getting Baby outside to stretch her legs. He turned back to look at Sam. "You telling me you don't have any problems with our house-stay becoming a sudden prison sentence?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm saying, it isn't like we have much choice."

"We could find a way around this."

"You heard Cas. The area above us is a hot zone. We aren't in danger, for once we don't have any pressing apocalyptic events on our heels. We were planning on taking it easy for a week or two, those were your words." He spread his hands out. "I just don't think its a big deal."

"Taking it easy, I didn't mean staying exactly here." Dean took a deep breath, finally stopping the pacing. "Fine. Whatever." Sam was right. It wasn't exactly as if they had anywhere specific to be. He just wished his beer, liquor, and food run had managed to get squeezed in before the pause button was pressed.

Cas looked sympathetic towards the brothers. "I'm sorry I didn't notice them sooner."

Dean let his annoyance melt as he smirked. "What, regret that you couldn't get locked on the other side of the door?" He stepped forward clapping Cas on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Being trapped with us has its perks."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "It does?"

"I have every single Clint Eastwood movie on DVD and Cas, you have nothing but time." He chuckled, stepping past the angel on a path towards the kitchen, with a new mission in his mind.

Cas merely stood there, his expression strained. "Good."

Sam sighed. It was going to be a long seven days.