-Summary: It's the end of the world and they've got one last card to play. Castiel sends Dean back: back before everything. Now he has time to stop what's coming, but no friggin' clue how to do it. Time travel should really come with a manual. TIMELINE AU

-Pronouns: Alright, get ready for this to get confusing. While Castiel is in a female vessel, the narrator (that's me!) will be referring to him as she/her. However, when Dean is the one thinking or bleeding into the narration, he'll still identify Cas as he/his. So there is gonna be some flip-flopping around, and hopefully it reads clearly as the difference between Dean being obstinate and the narrator actually knowing which gender that angel is currently wearing. (Which is only if I don't fuck up...which I absolutely will, cuz I've already caught three of them and counting -_-)

-Chapter Warnings: Dean's having problems, Cas is getting new clothes, Bobby's seeing even more of an angel (that he asked to see less of) than before, and Sam can't decide between enjoying his brother's dilemma or lecturing him right into the ground for it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Road So Far (This Time Around)

Season 2: Chapter 14

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

There was a lot for them to sort out. The first of which was clothes. Clothes that actually met in the back with full coverage all three hundred and sixty degrees. God damn but did Dean need those clothes. Needed full coverage. Head to toe, maybe. That would be good.

Guess he owed the Puritans an apology: turned out, ankles could be very sexy.

Of course, of the three occupants in the house, Dean's clothes were the closest in size. That wasn't saying much, given the new vessel – Angela (and Christ, her name was seriously AngelaReally – was still several inches shorter and far slimmer than the hunter, even with her athletic build. Which meant that whole three hundred and sixty degrees of coverage did a whole lot less when it was a pair of worn jeans (cinched tight with a belt they'd added an extra hole to) and an old Zepplin shirt doing the covering.

That was Dean's wet dream right there. Angel or not. Too-big clothes or not. A hot woman with bed-tussled hair (wind-tussled, but really, not much difference there) wearing one of his oldest and most favorite band shirts.

God, he was so screwed.

Bobby had been the one both brothers unanimously volunteered to help the angel get dressed, seeing as Castiel had never done so before. Dean was an obvious no-go and he disinvited himself to that shindig right away. Sam had put the full effect of the puppy-eyes to work until the old hunter just swore under his breath, grumbled about how he was too friggin' old for this, and grabbed the angel by the elbow to lead her to the first floor bathroom, clothes in hand. Which left the two brothers alone in a now noticeably quiet house.

Dean realized his mistake almost instantly. He should have made Sam go.

"Dude."

The words were barely out of his brother's mouth before Dean was snapping back, "I know, shut up."

"Dude." Sam aimed those big eyes his way and fired away with The Look.

"I said shut it, Sammy."

His snot-nosed little brother put his hands on his hips like some kind of disappointed soccer mom and Dean was rolling his eyes before the lecture even started. "I've seen you bad, Dean, but I've never seen you this distracted."

"Well, Cas shouldn't have come back looking so damn distracting!"

The Look doubled in strength, but petered off at the tips with just a slightly too-high eyebrow that Dean picked up on right away. He waved a hand, perhaps a little too animatedly, in the direction of the bathroom door. "You're seriously going to stand there and tell me she's not gorgeous?"

That too-high eyebrow got a little higher and his brother gave an awkward, embarrassed little shrug. "I mean…sure, she's pretty, but…"

"Unbelievable." Dean's posture deflated like a hot air balloon with a hole straight through its guts. He stared at his brother and wondered how it was they were even related. "There are so many things wrong with you."

"Me?" Sam balked, the Look finally giving way under a wave of exasperated amusement. And disapproving amusement, too, of course; Mother Samantha didn't give up the fight that easily. "I'm not the one drooling when I try to talk."

"Thought I told you to shut up."

The bathroom door opened with a loud creek, ending their discussion extra permanent style as Bobby ambled out with rosy-tinted cheeks, shutting the door quickly behind him before either brother could glimpse the angel still inside. Despite desperately wanting to turn the conversation onto anything but his own current embarrasment, Dean wouldn't touch Bobby's blushing with a forty foot pole.

He liked living, thank you very much.

-o-o-o-

The second thing they ended up discussing was Dean himself, despite the fact that every fiber in the man's being was busy playing ignorant, swimming knee-deep in denial, or (eventually) kicking and screaming as he was dragged forcefully out of that river by a scary hot nerd angel.

See, Dean had a problem. And for once it wasn't an Apocalypse, or a crisis, or a hunt they couldn't figure out. No, this was an entirely new problem, a first for Dean Winchester in a long history of other problems, and one he had no idea how to handle.

Dean's body wanted to bone Cas's body, and that was a serious friggin' problem.

The hunter had always been one to… appreciate a beautiful woman. In fact, he was known for it. Had that look, some ladies said. It got him laid more often than not, and he took no offense to those women who took offense; at least he laid it out to bare – just looking for a good time here, no strings attached – and didn't bother with anything more than his looks and his hot-blooded male need to get him there (and certainly her, too; he was all about equal fun). Problem was, he'd never had to hold himself back. It was an 'are you in or out' question, half the time not even verbalized, at a local dive bar with a gorgeous woman he'd probably never see again. Holding himself back wasn't a necessity when one-night-stand shopping at some hole in the wall. So Dean had never seen a reason to shy away from appreciating.

Unfortunately, none of his encounters had ever been an angel in a hot vessel (and not one of those wearing some back-ass ugly suit like they all somehow did. What, did vessels only come in cheap salesmen?!) who didn't know how to give his body that blatant 'not interested' signal it very very desperately needed. Dean was great with boundaries. Fan-freaking-tastic, actually. Apparently, he was so good with them that his body didn't know how to back the fuck down with anything less than the universal 'down, boy' that every woman in every bar seemed to know.

So now, Dean had a problem. A very large problem, if he did say so himself (and, of course, he did, so he would).

In a male vessel, or even when that vessel had become his own body, Castiel stood stiff and unmoving, always, but in a lost sort of way. Like he didn't know how to stand still, but standing still was the only thing he knew to do. With Jimmy, it gave him a softer edge than the rest of his dick brothers. A socially awkward side that kind of won people to him; got waitresses to call him honey and sweetheart. Old ladies always offered him iced tea and inquired about his marital status (for their granddaughters, of course). It made him, well, not approachable in the slightest unless you were middle aged and female, but more approachable than any of the other halos. It made him a nerdy little angel.

In this body it was downright distracting. The slight downward curvature of her tightly drawn shoulders: the twitch of a finger: the unblinking stare that saw straight through your bullshit and into your soul. It screamed lost, maybe a little bit crazy, but a whole lot of hot. Those legs spread just ever so slightly wide in a fighter's stance, ready to defend at any moment or stand solid for hours. The head tilt, now complete with a wave of hair that would slide off a cotton covered shoulder. Sometimes strands would get stuck on her t-shirt and Dean just wanted to brush them back and then curl his hand around the back of that slim neck, hair caught in his fingers before he'd lean in and-

"Dean!"

Dean jerked back to reality when his brother's foot connectedly solidly with his shin and he hissed at the sharp jolt. "Jeez, what?"

His gaze darted from staring off into space to his brother and back again, only to realize Cas was the space he'd been staring at. Or, well, through, since it really wasn't the angel he'd been seeing. Nope, he'd been seeing Angela Garret. Definitely just angela, not the angel. At. All.

Cas, standing just over Sam's shoulder at the kitchen table, was staring right back with those bright, ocean eyes. The Samsquatch in front of him was pulling one hell of a bitchface (#3, 'Grow up, Dean.') Castiel leaned around him to brace an arm on the table surface stiffly, hand splayed out on the table. It was an awkward enough move to draw even Sam's attention and raised brow to the arm just over his shoulder and up to the fiercely stoic angel, who didn't seem aware of the oddity.

Dean didn't really notice either. Cuz now he was staring at her damn perfect cleavage, positioned right at eye level, two friggin' feet away. Damnit, T-shirts weren't even supposed to be revealing, and this one wasn't an exception. How the hell was she making his old, worn out clothes sexy?

God, he was so screwed.

"This is the third time now that you are displaying physical stressors, Dean." That deep, raspy voice brought him back to the present again, and Dean snapped his eyes back to Castiel's face. "Your temperature has risen, your heart rate has increased, and blood is flowing to your-"

Dean was up and out of the chair in a millisecond flat, the wooden legs scraping across the cheap linoleum loudly enough to cut the angel short.

"Can I talk to you? Outside? Now As in right this instant."

He didn't wait for an answer, instead moving around the table and heading for the screen door. He kicked Samantha in the shin as he passed him, his snot-nosed kid brother trying and failing to hide his smug, laughing face. "Shut it, bitch."

Castiel followed him outside, the amused, "Jerk" making it through the door before it slammed shut behind them.

"Dean, I do not understand. You are not physically unwell. I don't sense any sickness in you. But you're flushed and breathing heavily-"

"Jesus, Cas, just stop! You can't – Christ, you can't say that sort of stuff. Especially in front of- of Sam. Or Bobby! Or anyone!"

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "I was merely listing the symptoms of whatever is affecting you."

"You're affecting me!" Damn it, that's not what he meant to say. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten as he did, and then doing it again in Latin just for the hell of it. Lot of good it was doing him. "Yeah, I get it, but don't. Don't list symptoms, don't try to find something wrong with me. Just ignore it, alright? I'm fine."

Castiel took a step forward, eyes still narrow. Dean gulped on instinct, taking a step back as the angel got dangerously close to putting his very, very nice, new body flush against him. Her body. Damn it. Dean took another step back, but Castiel met him inch for inch. Those eyes all but solidified with realization and Dean wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"You are experiencing sexual arousal in the presence of this vessel."

"N-No! No, I'm not." Dean stumbled back more forcefully this time. God, he needed some space. That famous personal space issue that had always been a thing with Cas was now a very real issue. "That's not it. I'm not."

Oh good. Very intelligent defense there, Dean. Real mature. Next he'd be telling Cas 'I know you are, but what am I?'

"You are," Castiel insisted, her words clashing with Dean's inner whining so hard it took him a moment to figure out what she was insisting he was. Oh, right. Getting a hard on in front of her. How could he forget?

Cas's eyes trailed down Dean's body (and damn it, that was not helping), then glanced down at her own. "Is it an appealing physical form?" She placed her hand on the flat of her stomach experimentally and then, good god, she started moving her hand down across the flat plane of Angela's torso, smoothing the wrinkles in the black t-shirt. Holy fuck, it wasn't even sexy. It really wasn't. It was awkward as hell, is what it was. Still, Dean couldn't breathe.

He needed a fucking vacation, he decided, as he spun around to look anywhere else.

"Cas, god, will you just stop?" He shot over his shoulder, letting out a deep, frustrated groan as he ran his hands through his hair and refused to turn back around. "When I said comatose, I was thinking some ancient, decrepit, old bag! Not…Not…" He waved his hand awkwardly over his shoulder to gesture at her slim, soft form. "It's not my fault you chose Miss Fucking Hawaii and every man's tropical wet dream! Couldn't you have gone for something a little less distracting?"

And if it had to be female, could she at least be a lot less like Jimmy Novak? Damn it, it was only the eyes, really. And maybe a little bit the wind-swept, dark hair. And okay, maybe also the structure of their faces, and the way they both stood, and also- god damn it! It only made this situation all the more fucked up. Like wanting to bang your best friend's sister. That was just wrong – you didn't do that to your friends.

"Dean."

Oh no. Even in a new body with new vocal chords – and shit, she even sounded raspy and deep and gravely and like pure fucking sex (great, like Jimmy there, too – no, wait, he did not just think that. Fuck! He thought of it in a porno way. Like the way dudes talked in pornos, damnit) – Dean still knew that voice. That was the warrior of God, you-will-respect-me-or-I-will-throw-you-back-into-Hell voice. Only Cas had ever made a vessel sound quite like that. Not even Michael, or Uriel, or a pissed off Gabe had nailed it quite like his angel could.

Castiel was right behind him when he turned around and he swallowed thickly at the intensity of that hard, angry stare only inches from his face.

Oh god, that was hot. Scary and hot, and son of a bitch, he was so damn screwed.

"Vessels are not easy to come by, and even less so with your criteria. We are incredibly fortunate that such circumstances existed at all, and that she was willing to say yes." Dean leaned back as she leaned forward, right into his personal space, and that was going to be a whole new conversation this time around apparently. "I am sorry this form does not fit your aesthetical wishes, but you will learn to control yourself."

Attempting to swallow was about all he was good for now (and he was steadfastly ignoring the rest of his brain, which had taken its cue from his little head and was busy listing all the ways he'd fit in your aesthetical- no, no, just shut up little Dean! The adults are talking now, damn it). Reduced to a blathering, speechless mess once more, Dean just nodded hastily.

Castiel straightened, giving him some much needed breathing room, which he gasped at greedily. "Good. We should resume our planning against the Apocalypse."

With that, she spun on her bare heel and left Dean, shell-shocked, breathing hard, and still very much aroused in the middle of the junkyard.

Right. Don't piss off the scary-hot nerd angel.

-o-o-o-

The third matter that came up quickly and with no preparedness on the boys' behalf, actually involved the Apocalypse and their next steps. That was that Castiel wasn't staying. Silver lining? It was a bonafide boner-killer if Dean had ever heard one. Before a fight could break out, which is exactly where it was headed the second Dean got that angry look on his face and opened his mouth, Sam cut in with the much more reasonable request of 'Why?'

"I cannot remain absent from Heaven for long," she answered. There was a regretful look on her face (which, at least for now, was only decipherable from stoicism by Dean alone) that might have been a balm to Dean's simmering anger and immediate disapproval, if not for the fact that right alongside it was a slightly relieved look, too.

Dean tried damn hard not to get bitchy about that, but he couldn't help it. All the other angels up in heaven were dicks, and Cas was just going to learn the hard way how much they'd let him down.

Her, Dean. Let her down.

"I'm not supposed to be here, as it is," Cas continued. "Leaving Heaven is currently forbidden, and my absence will eventually be noticed."

Biting his tongue in response to that, Dean managed to let some of his angry annoyance slide away without having to voice it aloud. He knew what disobedience meant for an angel, and like he'd told Castiel at the start of this, Heaven couldn't know what they were up to. He'd prefer Cas to just risk it down here – screw Heaven – but he knew Heaven well enough to know they'd never let it fly. They'd come after him, soft at first, then hard when he refused, and either way that ended in Heaven way too close to their business far too early in the timeline.

So if they had to play it slow and Cas had to stick it out undercover up in doucheland to avoid reeducation or heaven meddling too soon, then that's what they'd do. They'd make it work.

Still sucked, though, and Dean didn't like it one bit.

"Will you be able to come back?" Sam asked worriedly. Dean hadn't gone into a ton of detail on Heaven or their rules, but he understood well enough what they were asking Cas to do here, and he was pretty sure it was an imprisonable offense. If what she was doing on Earth was discovered while she was up there, Sam wasn't sure how they'd possibly get her back.

He knew Dean was worried enough about Cas spilling the beans out of a sense of duty; Sam could only imagine that risk tripled in the face of disciplinary action or what he suspected Dean had been hinting at: torture.

"I will try," Castiel responded, turning her gaze to the younger of the two brothers as she answered him. And yeah, Dean had been right, that look was intense. The change in vessel certainly hadn't changed that. "I cannot guarantee when or how often, but if it is an emergency, I will come."

"How you gonna know it's an emergency?" Bobby called out from behind the desk, looking entirely skeptical about this whole thing. Castiel regarded him with that heavy confusion again, as if trying to decide which question the human was asking: how would she know they weren't lying about the urgency, or how would she know they needed her help?

"I think he means, how do we get a hold of you?" Sam translated, as ever the referee among his often caustic family members.

"You can pray to me." Cas turned back to Sam, a slight nod of her head that he assumed meant she appreciated the translation help, which in turn made his smile a little more real.

"Pray?" Bobby didn't sound doubting so much as incredulous. He checked in with Dean, eyebrows raised, but the human only nodded back in confirmation.

"I will hear you," Castiel confirmed. "Though it would be wise to direct your prayers specifically to me, otherwise the rest of the host will be able to you hear as well."

"Dear Cas, who art be in Heaven," Dean said, arms spread wide, "please get your feathery ass down here as soon as possible."

Castiel stared at the human, who eventually dropped his arms back to his sides. The angel's eyes were narrowed, as though she suspected Dean was making fun of her, but wasn't entirely sure. She didn't seem the type to call him on it, though. "Yes, that has worked several times now, however, prayers should generally be more respectful."

Sam snorted at the way the angel directed the last words in his and Bobby's direction, as if she'd already given up all hope of Dean ever doing that. Maybe there was something to be said about the two knowing each other.

"Wait, you heard all those?" Dean pulled them back into the first part of Cas's words, a slightly angry frown pulling at his lips. "What the hell, Cas! If you could hear me all this time, why the hell didn't you answer?"

"Dude," Sam cautioned, eyeing his brother sidelong with a look that said 'be polite'. But Dean wasn't feeling very polite, and he sure as hell wasn't going to listen to his brother play diplomat in a conversation he only knew half of. Dean had damn near broken down and begged in some of those prayers. "She just told us she couldn't leave Heaven."

At the same time, Castiel responded, "I did."

That silenced the room, all eyes turning on the stoic angel, standing in the center of the room like a brick wall.

Sam was the first to put two and two together. "The Baku?"

Bobby sat upright in his chair, pulling his leg off the edge of the desk, suddenly all ears, because that had happened in his house, and he sure as hell didn't remember an angel showing up in the middle of that shit-show.

"What do you mean, the baku?" Dean echoed, glancing between Sam and Cas and pulling his head back in a bitchface of his own when the angel nodded a yes. "You were there?"

"She killed it," Sam offered, jerking his chin in Cas's direction. "Dad and I were trapped, and it was feeding on him."

The white light in the dream world. The explosion that had knocked Dad and Sam out of the dream, that they hadn't had an explanation for. That had been Castiel?

Sam shrugged helplessly, and Dean knew that gesture. It was the classic, hunter's what-are-you-gonna-do, close-call shrug, which left the older brother with a weight in his stomach. He'd known the Baku had been a close one, but honestly he'd been pretty occupied with Meg and the whole DeLorean slipup with Bobby. Maybe he hadn't realized how close it actually had been for his brother and dad.

"You cannot kill a Baku," Castiel corrected, watching the silent conversation happening between the brothers with a slight head tilt. "I purified it, returning it to its original state. The beast should go back to consuming only nightmares."

"That's comforting," Bobby muttered under his breath. The thing had clearly gone off the reservation once, what was to stop it from going there again, hurting future humans and causing a headache for some shit-luck hunter down the road.

"If you were there, you could have said something," Dean complained at the same time, crossing his arms over his chest from where he leaned against the corner of Bobby's desk, a petulant glare on his face that had Sam pulling Bitchface #3 again.

"I intended to." The only reason Castiel had been there at all had been in response to the man's prayers, some of them downright confusing, others particularly troubling, and more than a few annoying. Then there hadn't been time. "A mass of demons followed and attacked before I was able to."

"You're the reason that damn swarm showed up?" Bobby's eyes were wide, and he glanced back at Dean, who looked just as clueless. They never had figured out why that weird congregation of smoke demons attacked the house, or left just as suddenly.

Something triggered in Dean's memory, muddled by pain and gaps of consciousness. Azazel had said something about an angel touching down and bolting the hell out of there shortly afterward. Of course, that had been right before he'd shoved his hand straight into Dean's chest. Everything after that was a mass of pain and, oh yeah, explosions. A quick glance Sam's way showed the kid not exactly surprised, so Dean was fairly certain he hadn't imagined that in a pain-filled delirium. The demon bastard must have been talking about Cas.

"I had to draw them away before they damaged the house, or any of you," Castiel confirmed in Bobby's direction, though she spared a glance Dean's way as well, as if to say 'is that a good enough reason for you, human?'

Given that Dean was still struggling to keep his thoughts straight anytime that look turned his way (it was damn distracting and just a little too intense coming from a pretty face) it took him a minute to cross his arms over his chest and glare right back. If Dean was good at only one thing, that thing was burying just about anything under a heft mask of petulance.

"You could have come back once you shook them. That was weeks ago, Cas. Not like you to give up because a couple demons got in your way."

Sam was staring at him with that familiar warning in his wide-open gaze that said 'shut up, Dean, before you piss the super powerful angel off.' Dean ignored him and he also ignored the fact that he was pretty sure Sam was at least a little right. He knew he was acting like a butt-hurt jerk rather than the competent Righteous Man he'd told Cas he needed to leave Heaven for.

Oh, yeah, except the angel was going right back up there. Again.

So fair's fair.

Castiel's expression grew stormy. And not your average summer storm with dark but somehow pretty clouds approaching on the horizon. This was hurricane level, run for the bunker out back, category five twister face. The hair on his arms actually stood up, and Dean took a half step back before he realized it, arms uncrossing in surprise because, while Castiel was often brooding or intense, he was very rarely angry. At least, not in the Righteous Man's direction.

Phantom pain flashed up Dean's cheek and he wondered if this was about to be a repeat of that alley all those years ago when he'd given up on saying 'No' any longer and sort of broke his best friend in the process.

"I lost one of my brother's in that attack," the angel rumbled and the house practically shook with it. Castiel was, indeed, angry. Balthazar had been her friend, one of her closest brethren, and it was her fault that he had perished on an unsanctioned mission. A mindless, unimportant curiosity. A petulant, irreverent one at that. "So no, I could not simply return to answer one human's irreverent prayers."

Dean swallowed against that anger and, even more so, at his friend's sorrow. He could see it through the furious blue eyes. He knew Castiel; knew how the angel loved his brothers, even those that had turned on him, those that tried to kill him, that hated him. Still, he had loved them and mourned their deaths, each and every one. Dean could imagine the grief and the guilt he was feeling now (struggling to feel, because this was Angels-Don't-Have-Emotions-Cas and not the angel that had finally embraced the fact that yes they did), when his brother's death was a result of answering a human's prayers against orders.

"I'm sorry, Castiel." Sam's condolence was heartfelt, as only that mushy moose could be, and Castiel turned towards him with a slight pinch in her brow. This was a completely different person, who looked utterly different from James Novak, and yet the expression was still so friggn Cas.

"Yeah, me too," Dean offered as well, scratching the back of his scalp for a second for lack of anything better to do with his arms. He meant it thought. He didn't like most of Cas's family, but that didn't mean he didn't understand mourning for them.

Unfortunately for them all, he'd met so many of Cas's dick brothers (and Cas had so many dick brothers) that Dean didn't even think to ask which one it had been.

Castiel regarded both of them for a solid minute before inclining her head in a small, but accepting nod. After all, Balthazar's death was not Dean's fault. Neither angel had thought Earth was going to be dangerous, either.

The silence persisted for another moment, perhaps a pause in respect for the angel's fallen kin, before Bobby cleared his throat. "We gonna get back to the apocalypse, then?"

Cas turned awkward to him, neck and shoulders stiffening as she fell back into soldier mode. "Yes. It would be wise to discuss our next moves, and for you to….catch me up."

The storm abated, and Dean allowed himself a little quirk of a smile at the angel's first attempt at an idiom. He'd make sure there were more to come.

-o-o-o-

Bobby kept them on track through the next six attempted arguments – three settled on Castiel returning to heaven, two on their next move (find Azazel and kill him, find Lilith and kill her, at least in Dean's opinion, that was), and the final one a cumulated result of the previous five.

"You cannot do any of those things," the angel insisted, tone as close to annoyed as a pre-apocalypse, pre-sarcasm Castiel would ever get. Dean rolled his eyes – his third time in as many minutes – and Sam hit him in the bicep, wearing a patented bitchface, before he could open his mouth to start argument number seven, smack dab in the middle of argument number six. "As I have said several times, you need to stick as closely to the previous timeline as possible."

"Cuz some things just have to stay the same, huh?" Dean bit out, voice hostile and bitter with something Castiel did not understand, which only resulted in an unblinking head tilt. The man from the future bristled at it for reasons the angel also did not understand.

"Yes," she insisted tone as strong as that stance Cas always took, whether he was in an argument or standing in the middle of the bunker accepting a beer. Dean supposed that solidity hadn't really eased up until the angel had gone full human. Which brought up unpleasant memories he didn't have time to deal with now, so he shoved all of it right back down. "Time can be bent, but it is difficult, and the further you bend it, the harder the recoil will be. The tighter you attempt to hold on, the more cracks will appear in the timeline. Cracks that will be filled with unpredictable change."

"You wouldn't have sent me back if it couldn't be done," Dean challenged, and Sam resisted the urge to hit him again. The older Winchester was bouncing between barely being able to use his tongue and his brain at the same time and unwarranted hostility towards the angel. Sam didn't have a clue what was going on in his brother's head, but they were going to be lucky if he didn't chase Cas away permanently before they'd even gotten started.

"Calm down, ya idjit," Bobby interrupted, sending Dean a chastising look that actually did a lot more than anything coming from Sam had in the past hour. "No one's saying it can't be done. Right?"

Castiel seemed surprised to be on the receiving end of that question and Bobby's own intense stare (it was the eyebrows). The minute it took for the angel to formulate her answer was probably as much from the unexpectedness of it as it was trying to work out which answer was correct for the hunter's Midwestern double negative. It was rather fitting that the overly formal angel ended up going with an uncertain, "…Right."

Sam's little huff and quirk of his lips meant he'd caught that too.

"Changes are possible, but you will need to tread very carefully." Castiel met each of their gazes individually, her tone both incredibly serious and that of a kindergarten teacher slow-speaking to make sure her kids actually understood English before she moved on with the lesson. Sam thought it was fitting, given Dean was among her audience, but kept that little thought to himself, since he'd already made it clear they were trying to avoid further arguments. "Any deliberate alterations to the timeline will have to be small and few, with as little impact as possible and as far apart as possible."

"How the hell do we stop the Apocalypse with small impacts?" Dean was being purposefully argumentative. Not outside the range of normal for Dean, really, but definitely more riled up than usual. Sam was pretty sure he knew the cause, and it was the angel standing in front of them, prepping them like a mission report because she wasn't going to be present for the rest of the mission.

"You said Lilith was the final seal to release Lucifer." Castiel focused her gaze primarily on Dean. "Then you should focus your changes solely on her. If you're going to avert the Apocalypse-"

"We, Cas!" Dean's unexpected explosion, which was, admittedly, not that unexpected for Sam or Bobby but still louder than they'd had been hoping for, startled Castiel enough that her jaw clacking shut was audible. "Damn it, we're in this together, it's us against the Apocalypse! Not me, not Sam. Us!"

"Dean," Sam cautioned, a mix of warning and understanding. His older brother dropped his shoulders but kept the clenched jaw that Sam knew well. Dean was well aware he owed an apology for that outburst, but Cas wasn't going to get one.

"Of course," the angel answered, eyes still wide from the abrupt scolding. There was another moment of silence as Castiel judged whether she'd chosen the right response to the volatile human she seemed to know more about than she should, and yet absolutely nothing at the same time. "If…we are going to avert the Apocalypse, we will need to remove Lilith from the equation."

"Kill her?" Bobby asked gruffly, an eyebrow raised. "How the hell are we supposed to kill Lucifer's first born? That ain't no spring chicken we're talking about."

"No, she is certainly not a…chicken. However, she is still a demon, and can be killed like any other. She is also our best chance at ending this before it begins." Castiel cast a sidelong glance at Dean, though he was back to brooding on his side of the den. "We will need to arrange for her death in a situation completely apart from the events surrounding the Apocalypse."

Sam frowned at that, curious brow puzzled atop his intelligent brown eyes. "We need to make it look like an accident?"

Castiel tilted her head slightly, thinking. "Not necessarily, but the less it looks like a result of Hell attempting to raise Lucifer, the more likely Time will accept the new path."

"So, a death random enough that no one, including Time – like that's a thing – puts two and two together with us trying to stop the end of the world." Bobby's second eyebrow had joined the first up near his hairline.

"Precisely."

"Great." Bobby shared a more than doubting look with Dean, who wasn't too cranky yet to return it. "And how do we do that, exactly?"

"I am-" Castiel hesitated for a moment, eyes darting like she was listening to something else, head tilting ever so slightly to match. "…working on it."

Bobby snorted. "Wouldn't it just be easier for Dean not to make a deal that lands his ass in Hell and breaks the first seal?"

All eyes turned on him, and Dean frowned, pinching his face and pulling his head back at his family. "I already promised not to, what more do you want?"

"I do not think we should wager the fate of the planet on a promise," Castiel responded evenly, and Dean whipped quite the insulted look her way, though he knew the angel hadn't meant it that way. Still. Ouch. "Demons can be clever and terribly creative. They will find another way to fulfill the conditions of the seal, should Dean's resilience hold."

"It will," the man from the future mumbled under his breath, though even he couldn't deny that the words held way more confidence than any other part of him, soul and conscience included.

"For now, you should stick to the original timeline as closely as you can," Castiel reiterated, straightening to her full height. "Do not do anything out of the ordinary. I will formulate a strategy to alter time as little as possible, but I will need an intimate knowledge of what is coming."

Dean looked at Bobby, who sighed and leaned over to jerkily pull open the top drawer of his desk. He drew out the legal pad, curling yellow pages covered in his scrawled hand, and plopped it down on the desk.

"Knock yourself out," he offered, to which the angel, though confused, ultimately decided against pointing out how counterproductive such an action would be.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-A/N: if you were thinking Angela was the one to suggest leaning over the table and putting the ladies in view – to the confusion of a very lost but obedient Castiel – then you would be absolutely right ;) And eventually we'll get a little more of her voice, next time we switch to Cas's narration-bleed-through.

-Review Replies: I am way behind once again, but should be able to catch up with most of you throughout the day, so if you haven't heard from me yet, I'm coming, I'm coming! :) Thank you, as always, to those of you review and I hope you quieter folk are still enjoying. Thanks for reading!

-Pollyp0429: You get a rare, in-story review reply (because I can't PM you). Thank you for your offer of beta-reading! Unfortunately, between my slow-writing, slow-editing, and lack of free time, I currently don't have time to get in a beta-read of a chapter before it goes up on a Sunday :P I'm lucky if I'm editing by Friday night (and I'm a neurotic, perfectionist, insecure control freak, so a chapter would still have to go through a personal edit before I could hand it off) However, thank you very much for the offer and please PM me sometime because I'd love to discuss more with you. Even if I can't find time to squeeze in an editor, you could help me bounce some ideas around instead, if that sounds cool! :)

-Up Next: Cas has a lot of an Apocalypse to read up on, Bobby's calling it a night (morning), and Dean's finally talking about a future that's more than five years away while Sam eavesdrops when he should be sleeping. Oh, and Cas learns about Star Trek, of all things.