-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

-A/Ns: Thank you all again for your second round of patience. I'm still climbing my way out of this sucky low, but I'm getting there and have high hopes for the future. I know it sucks, but I honestly recommend maybe re-reading the last three or four chapters to kind of catch up with what's been going on. These chapters were never meant to be read with a month's span between them (and I am so very sorry it's turned out that way)

-Chapter Warnings: We are wrapping up our intermediate season 2.0 (soon to be on with Season 2.1!) with a little bit of a bang and hopefully some giggles. Cas is showing off, Sam's setting things on fire, Dean's being a man (snort). And that's just the first half (the second half involved human toes) ;D

-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 25

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

While Mrs. Alders was out at her Tuesday Bridge meetup, the Winchesters and their angel broke into her house, grabbed the necklace (and the urn, just to be thorough), and hightailed it out of there before any nosey neighbors got suspicious or had itchy-dialing fingers. They drove the urn to the nearest cemetery, for the purpose of a somewhat isolated location without a lot of visitors where they could burn a friggin' metal thing full of already burned granddaughter, and what they hoped was the only thing keeping her tied to this plane.

Dean would have preferred doing it at the park not three blocks from the old lady's house. He did not like a giant mound of ashes in an unsealed container just hanging out in his baby, not to mention the thing the homicidal bitch was probably tied to ('bitch' was a bit harsh; the girl's death certainly didn't sound pleasant. But she'd damn well mutilated the last guy in a way no man ever wants to be mutilated. So, yeah, Dean wasn't feeling too cordial about hosting an open invitation for the man-mutilator to come party with more men who had men-things to be mutilated, and, oh yeah, they were currently trying to kill her themselves. Yeah. Nothing to possibly go wrong with that equation.)

Luckily for them, Sam's point of maybe not fighting a ghost in public place just because it was nearby (not to mention city by-laws about open flames) was backed up by the fact that no ghost tried to attack them in the Impala. Whether that was because they had an angel with them (Dean's theory), a woman with them (Sam's theory) or the fact that the car was fairly heavily warded (Castiel's silent observation which she did not offer aloud, mostly due to being somewhat confused as to why neither man listed it as a possibility. Surely Dean would know the warding on his own vehic- Baby) was not something the ghost clarified for them once she did show up to mutilate their man bits.

(She didn't actually try to mutilate any bits, man or woman, she just straight up tried to kill them, but Dean was a touch touchy about his man bits and also maybe paranoid about cases that could potentially concern them.)

Back in the car, Castiel was more focused on understanding human intricacies than the murderous rage of a spirit trapped on the earthly plane after an unpleasant death.

'I still do not understand how a car can be female,' Castiel returned internally as Angela reminded him Dean's vehicle was named Baby. He looked around the backseat of the car, down leather and stitching, across carpeting and metal, but could not find any distinguishing feminine features.

'Don't worry about it. It's a guy thing.'

Whatever sort of thing it was – be it a guy thing, a warding thing, a woman thing, or an angel thing – it ended the second they stepped out of the car in the quiet, isolated corner of the town's largest cemetery. Nicole Alder was on them like a rabbit on a salad before any of them could draw a weapon.

Lucky for them, and there was no debate about it this time; they had an angel on their side. Dean had been right. Cas was really handy in a fight. The angel tackled Sam out of the way of the oncoming firestorm of fury and bitterness. They hit the ground hard, but Sam was a hunter: back up on his feet with a roll and the pull of his firearm. He got two shots in before Castiel took over.

"Burn the necklace!" she commanded over her shoulder, hand reached out to curl around the ghost's forehead. Nicole Alder cried out in rage and pain, striking out against the angel. Sam saw the hits land, but they didn't seem to be doing much damage.

It was impressive, actually, and Sam sort of got the mix of awe and reverence that sometimes crossed his brother's face whenever he'd talked about the celestial being. Of course, Sam had just thought it was a case of fan-worship. Dean had always been a closet fanboy (sometimes not so closeted). A badass taker-down-of-supernatural-things that was also on their side, let Dean teach him naughty words, watched all his favorite TV shows with him, and liked cheeseburgers almost as much as Dean himself? Yeah, Sam had chalked Dean's admiration of Castiel up to total fanboying.

Of course, the three days they'd spent with the angel so far since Castiel came into their lives were starting to make Sam think he might have been a little more off about the relationship between brother and angel than he'd originally imagined. The female vessel wasn't helping things, but Sam knew his brother well enough to have a hunch that Angela Garrett only had so much to do with it.

Still, back to the point at hand, the younger Winchester now understood the actual reverence a little better now, seeing the angel in action.

Dean was already digging into the trunk for mini-bonfire necessities while Sam continued to gawk as Cas fought off the ghost. The trunk slammed shut and Dean darted past him with a gas can and rag, finally shaking Sam out of it. He raced after him, sliding to his knees once they were a safe enough distance away from the Impala. Sam dug a lighter out of his pocket as Dean curled the rag into a dry patch of grass. As the older Winchester soaked the rag through with gas, Sam reached over and snatched a dried, dead bouquet from a grave and threw it on top, following it with the necklace that dangled from his finger.

Unfortunately for them, Nicole had been pretty smart in life, about to graduate as a physics major with plans to pursue a PhD in the subject. So, Dean figured, Sam had some hope of carrying over all that genius into his afterlife after all. Because Nicole picked up pretty damn quick that the angel would put herself directly in the ghost's way anytime she tried to stop the hunters who were trying to permanently stop her. It took all of two failed attempts before the third was a fake out. Castiel placed herself predictably between the ghost and the Winchesters, only for Nicole to vanish rather than throw her power blast at the boys.

It left the angel's back wide open to attack as Nicole re-appeared behind her. Cold, angry hands fisted in Castiel's coat and flung the angel around and back with a power only years of supernatural anger was capable of creating.

Cas's grunt was enough to alert the two hunters, seconds before she went flying past them. Dean, stupidly, dropped the gas can and launched himself into her flightpath with her name on his lips. They both hit the ground and rolled right into a tombstone with an impressive thud. Sam didn't have time to worry, lighting the rag into a quickly consumed inferno. He shot back to his feet, firearm raised against the approaching phantom, who was seething with rage. She disappeared with the first shot.

The hunter stiffened as he felt her presence reappear behind him. But as he spun to shoot once more, the ghost of Nicole Alder faltered, hands raised for another game of toss-the-hunter. Her body flickered in and out, embers starting to light along her tattered clothing, and her rage consumed face faltered into something far younger.

Sam backed up as she burst into flames and disappeared entirely.

"Shit," Dean groused, sitting up from the base of the grave. His back hurt like hell; he'd have one heck of a bruise from hitting the side of the damn stone straight on. Cas was in his arms, the hunter having padded more of the angel's fall. Once Dean made eye contact with his brother, seeing for himself that Sam was okay, he turned his attention to his friend, who was quite literally in his lap. "You okay?"

Castiel climbed off of her charge unaffected, extending a hand to help him up. "I am unharmed. You should not have done that."

Dean shrugged a shoulder awkwardly, wincing as he climbed to his feet and his back twinged. "I saw an opening, and that tombstone could have hurt you as much as it hurt me."

"That is entirely untrue. I am an Angel of the Lord. No stone would damage me. Your decision to come to my aid was foolish." Castiel reached up with her standard two-finger touch and Dean let out a relieved breath as that familiar healing warmth flooded his back.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm used to an angel that's a little less invincible, alright?"

Sam's eyebrows went up as Dean's tone got defensive. Paired with the obvious one-over Dean was giving Angel's body (clearly not taking the angel's word that she was fine), Sam easily enough put two and two together and came up with exasperation. Really. Dean was the one had told him that Cas was practically invincible. Bragged about it, pretty much.

Of course, that's when he had been male.

Dean caught the knowing look Sam was throwing his way (which, screw that) and shrugged, irritated that he'd tried to help and was getting flack for it. He grumbled under his breath, turning back to the angel only to find Cas was regarding him with narrowed, squinty eyes that were too damn familiar on a foreign face.

"You do not think I can protect myself in this vessel?"

The hunter leveled an immediate finger in her direction. "I didn't say that."

"You did not have to."

He bristled. "Quit reading my head, Cas!"

The angel just kept squinty-eyeing him and, all haughtily, replied, "I am not."

Dean snapped his mouth shut, realizing he'd all but admitted to thinking the angel was weaker cuz she was girl. Damnit, that's not what he meant and everyone here should friggin' know it. Friggin' know him!

"I don't think you're- it's not because you're- damnit, women aren't weak, alright? I mean, some of them need protection, but that doesn't mean-" The older Winchester let out a vocal, dangerous growl and wished the moment would just end. Why was this so hard? Sam might as well hand him a shovel for all that digging he was doing. He blew out a breath and squared his shoulders. "It's not about that, Cas. I save people, okay? We save people. I will always put myself between them and whatever's coming. You included!"

He was gesturing wildly by the end of it, but fuck it. As his words echoed into the silence of the midday graveyard and he finally dropped his arms, Dean realized they were both still staring at him, but the mood had changed. Sam actually looked impressed, in that smug-little-brother-who's-smarter-than-you, but still. And Cas just tilted her head, a thoughtful moue replacing the earlier irritation.

Then Cas was stepping into his personal space, putting her hand on his arm, right over a mark that wasn't there, and staring at him in some sort of amazement that absolutely did not travel south. On a male Cas, that admiration had looked so damn serious it was awkward. Real easy to clear his throat, pat the guy on the back, and move on. On Angela, it was the kind of look he usually got in a dark bar when he was on a damn good streak and he knew he was getting lucky that night.

Shit.

He added it to the list of things to talk to Cas about never ever doing again.

"The capacity for human compassion continues to amaze me. You are a good man, Dean Winchester." The angel offered the smallest of smiles, something experimental that she didn't quite get right, but it was close. Dean swallowed, face flushing in the embarrassment of this situation and the audience it just had to have (because, of course it did). "While I do not need your protection, I am honored by the concern for my wellbeing. You care."

"Uh…" Dean cleared his throat, looking down at the hand still gripping his bicep if only to ignore the angel staring at him like he'd just saved the friggin world. God. Awkward. "Sure. If you, uh, wanna make it all girly."

Beside him, Sam snorted and Dean shot him a glare. They stood there until it was clear Cas wasn't going to move, and Dean finally took her hand, patted it inelegantly, released it, and told her, "Good talk."

Sam was still choking back a laugh by the time they made it to the Impala and he had three new bruises from Dean's sharp elbow straight to his ribs.

-o-o-o-

They were just opening the doors of the Impala when Cas turned to them like she was about to leave and Dean immediately tensed up.

"I have an… errand to run?" she surprised them by saying – well, sort of asking, like she wasn't sure that was the right phrase – but her eyes were locked on Sam. Understanding (and relief? What was up with that) flickered across his features, causing Dean to frown in his brother's direction. When he gave her an encouraging nod, probably over the turn of phrase, she continued, "I will return before you go to sleep tonight."

At the same time, Dean asked, "What errand?" but she was already gone. Annoyed (and confused, not that he'd admit it), the older Winchester turned to Sam, suspicion painting over the annoyance. His brother knew something, darnit. "What errand!"

"I don't know." Sam climbed into the car. Dean followed. It wasn't a lie. Sure, Sam had a hunch what the errand was about, but it's not like he knew what Cas had gone off to do. Dean was glaring at him now, all squinty-eyed himself. Sam rolled his eyes. "Did you want to go get lunch or not?"

"You're buying," his brother answered, all pouty and grumpy. He stuck the key into Baby's ignition and started her up. "And there better be pie."

-o-o-o-

They grabbed lunch in town which, along with the benefit of damn decent pie (the town was worth saving after all, it turned out), gave them the opportunity to stick around, make sure the ghost was really gone and nothing else was left to torment these people. The brothers mulled about for a way longer lunch than they usually took, but nothing turned up and it looked like the case was over and they could leave town.

Only they couldn't, because Cas was out running errands, didn't have a cell phone (Dean would be fixing that immediately) and had all but told them she'd be at the motel that night, which was the only place she knew to meet them.

True to her word, Cas showed back up right about the time they would have turned in for the night. 'Would have' being the key words, as Dean was too keyed up waiting for her return to possibly sleep (she wouldn't have gone back to Heaven, would she? What errand could possibly end up there?) and Sam was restless and exhausted to the point of either passing out where he stood or leaving for another night's run. Being afraid to sleep would do that to a guy.

The clatter of glass jars clinking together drowned out the sound of wingbeats, and Dean sat up in surprise at the sudden noise, Sam spinning towards the small living area of the motel. Cas was standing beside the kitchenette table, almost a dozen jars of varying sizes and colors now on the cheap faux-wood surface. Dean hopped off the bed as Sam went over to investigate.

"What the hell's all this?" the older Winchester asked, his brother already examining some of the jars and the mystery contents. Looked like spell components. Small, dried flowers and grasses. A couple powders. Dean picked up a container of liquid and quickly put it back down. "Please tell me those aren't toes."

"They are not toes," Cas confirmed, and Dean let out a relieved breath. They sure looked like toes. "They are mushrooms. A rare species that grows only in the mountains of Japan."

Dean frowned over at her. "Is that where you were all day?"

Collecting Japanese fungus toes. Sure, why not. Sounded like something Cas would do.

She looked at the ingredients pointedly. "I was many places."

"What's it all for, Castiel?" Sam asked, far more reasonably, as he set down the jar of mushrooms soaked in a yellow-brown liquid. He couldn't help the scrunched up face, though. They really did look like human toes.

The angel dug two small, cloth pouches out of her coat pocket (and Dean internally congratulated himself on the purchase of the totally practical piece of tan clothing. Having pockets was practical) and handed one to each of the brothers. Dean could spot a hex bag from a mile away, and so he took the thing a hell of a lot more cautiously than this brother.

"Hex bags," Cas confirmed Dean's suspicions, and Sam's eyebrows shot up. It wasn't his first time running into them (witches, man. They were the worst), but he probably hadn't expected an angel to be handing him one. "They will disguise your presence from Azazel."

The look that crossed Sam's face was so damn relieved that Dean almost didn't round on him, an expectantly raised brow and bland expression (hiding a pissy expression) on his face. "Azazel?"

Sam seemed uncomfortable, but kept his gaze with a fierce determination of his own. "I told you he showed up in my dream."

"No," Dean countered immediately, the bland definitely giving way to pissed-the-hell-off as he waggled a finger at his brother. "You told me you had a bad dream, and you mentioned the name. You didn't tell me Azazel was visiting you in your damn head!"

Which, yeah, Dean had put together himself, thank you very much, but it wasn't the same thing and Sam knew it.

Dean turned away from his brother's mixed look of puppy-dog guilt and 'I'm not a child' anger. He lifted the hex bag, which given the not-human-toes sitting on the table, he really didn't want to know the ingredients of. "This is awesome and all, Cas – real creative – but why don't you just zap us on the ribs with some Enochian like last time?"

Castiel tilted her head tellingly in his direction, and Dean knew that look. It was the annoyed look that said, so plainly he could hear it, 'Because I wasn't there last time, Dean.' Or maybe that was future-Cas, speaking from his chest, which twitched behind his sternum. Dean wondered who that twinge was for; agreeing with Dean or defending his other self.

He could probably guess, and it wasn't the one he'd have liked it to be.

"That is a creative solution," Castiel answered, and despite Dean's internal going-ons, the angel didn't seem annoyed. If anything, she sounded thoughtful. Dean wondered if this Cas was impressed with her own – well, her future – ingenuity. "However, we should avoid anything that uses Enochian, else I would teach you several warding symbols that would be far more efficient than hex bags."

She gestured to the table now crammed with ingredients and Dean realized they were going to have to store all that stuff in the trunk and learn how to make the damn bags. Awesome.

"Why not?" Sam asked, though he was already tucking the hex bag into his pocket and Dean narrowed his eyes at the trust. Not that Sam shouldn't trust Cas but…they were hex bags, man. Witchcraft was never good. Carved ribs was a much better option, future X-ray needs and hospitals aside.

"Those will ward you from all creatures, angels included." She nodded toward the one Dean still held, and he looked down at it, begrudgingly impressed (very begrudgingly) at the strength of the thing. Hex bags didn't usually have a large range unless they were powerful or black magic. He knew Cas wouldn't give them something dark, though, so that meant the magic for these bags was old. "Heaven is likely watching you, even now. If they investigate why you disappeared from their senses and see Enochian warding as the cause-"

"They'll know we've got a rogue angel helping us out," Dean finished, stomach sinking. Maybe it wouldn't be the first conclusion they'd jump to, but it would stir up way too much curiosity either way. He tucked the hex bag in his pocket with resignation. Witchcraft it was.

"Yes," Cas agreed. "Once they realize the source of the interference is a hex bag, they'll have no reason to be suspicious. It would not be uncommon for hunters to use such a solution when trying to hide from demons."

"The fact that it hides us from Heaven is just an accidental benefit," Sam offered with a wry smile, knowing it was anything but coincidental. Cas went for another smile, a little closer to hitting her mark that time. Then she was digging into her coat again, producing a small, thick, gold coin.

"The bags only disguise your presence; they are not protection. Finding a means to permanently guard your mind from intrusion would be… more complicated than we have time for, I'm afraid. But this will stop you from dreaming." Cas handed the coin over to Sam, who ran his thumb over the ancient medal and the crudely carved face on one side. "It is a Persian sleep coin, magicked to block the owner from experiencing any form of dreaming when asleep. You place it under your head; beneath your pillow would work, I imagine."

Sam flipped the coin over. It didn't look like anything special.

"Wait, it blocks all dreams?" Dean parroted, staring at the thing with a mixed expression. "Nightmares too?"

"All dreams," Cas confirmed. "It was originally created for a Persian King who suffered sleep terrors. He summoned all types of sorcerers and mages to his kingdom to find him a cure."

"…Is there more than one?" Dean asked, and there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice that had Sam sending him a look. They were lucky enough Cas had gone halfway across the world to fetch them this one. Dean glared defensively back at his brother. "What? I want one."

Castiel regarded her human charge with slightly narrowed eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or serious, and if serious, just how serious. "Unfortunately, they are difficult to come by. I was lucky to find this one."

"Yeah, yeah. Figures," Dean grumbled.

The angel turned back to Sam, considering the discussion closed on Dean getting a shiny no-nightmare coin of his own. "This is not a permanent solution. The human mind is powerful, and dreaming is an outlet for many things. You should not use the coin consecutively for too long, or you may lose your ability to dream altogether."

Sam looked immediately perturbed, but honestly, Dean could imagine worse things. The kid glanced down at the coin in his hand, before closing his fingers around it. Meeting the angel's gaze, he gave a determined nod. This would do for now. "Thank you, Cas."

"Of course. Your safety is paramount, Sam. I will work on a way to block your mind more permanently the next time I return."

Dean heard the conversation drawing closed a mile away and fidgeted, knowing what it meant. "You have to head back, then?"

Castiel nodded. "I have likely been gone longer than is safe, for now."

"Do you need help plugging your body back in at Bobby's?" Sam offered, a smile on his face. Cas just shook her head.

"I will manage, thank you."

They continued to stand there as the silence got awkward, with Sam expecting the angel to disappear with a beat of invisible wings, and Dean kind of dreading when that went down (he was still not so comfortable with the angel out of reach up in Heaven, especially an angel prone to panic attacks caused by being in heaven out of reach). Cas herself seemed hesitant, which only made Dean's worry turn into justified anger.

Then those blue eyes dropped to his chest and the hunter found that anger somewhere down near his toes with nothing more than mild annoyance filling its place. He rolled his eyes hard enough it hurt.

"Oh for the love of-" He let out an annoyed growl-sigh-noise-thing-a-majig and closed the distance between the two of them. Dean grabbed Cas's hand and hauled it up to his chest, refusing to actually think about it. He absolutely ignored the flip-flopping in his chest as the Cas behind his sternum flipped and flopped excitedly at the connection. And he absolutely, absolutely, ignored the raised eyebrows he could feel Sam giving them just over his shoulder or the poorly disguised cough.

He supposed it was worth it for the brief peace that stole over Cas's face.

And then she was gone with a flap of invisible wings.

-o-o-o-

Sam was climbing into bed, tucking the coin beneath his pillow like a reverse-tooth-fairy trick, ridiculously relieved and looking forward to a good night's sleep, when Dean finally brought it up. Sam knew he would.

"You should have told me, Sammy."

The younger Winchester refused to tense. He'd known it was coming, and he didn't feel bad about how it had played out. Still, he didn't shrug, since he knew the nonchalance would just piss his brother off, and that's not what he wanted, either.

"Sorry," he offered, going for apologetic but pretty sure he missed. He probably hit somewhere in the snark range, given the words he chose to go with since he knew they'd knock his brother right off this train of thought. "I didn't want to interrupt your time with Cas, what with that crush you're working on."

Dean might have stayed angry (definitely was angry) if he wasn't too busy defending his honor as a man. "I do not- I don't- I don't have a crush on Cas!"

The sputtering was particularly convincing.

"Uh-huh."

"It's not a crush," Dean growled more fiercely. "This body is just… it's friggin' horny, alright?"

If Sam had been drinking that glass of water he'd just set down on the nightstand between the beds, he definitely would have choked on it. Well, better late than never for his big brother to finally have that realization.

"And Angela is- she's- she's hot, okay? With Cas's lost and not-quite-all-there look- It's not- I'm not- Just shut up."

Sam didn't even have to say anything. At that point, he was just trying not to laugh out loud. Dean, meanwhile, threw himself onto the bed, pulling the covers up with unnecessary force, and turned his back on his brother. He was still grumbling under his breath as silence settled over the room.

He could let it drop, Sam knew. He really, really could.

Instead, he sighed and fiddled with the corner of the thin comforter.

"I needed time, Dean." His brother might hear only an excuse, but for Sam it was the truth. "I was scared. Terrified. I don't know what's coming next, okay? I don't get that benefit; I haven't lived through this and know it'll all be okay. And you just telling me it will be- All I know is one wrong move and I-" he choked on the words, staring at his hands in his lap as he sat on the bed, those feelings of hopelessness once more overwhelming- "-I end the world."

Dean rolled back over, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's not that black and white, Sam. It isn't all on you."

The younger Winchester picked his head up and met his brother's gaze. He knew Dean was trying to help, to comfort, but that wasn't really the point. "But this part is. Right now. With the blood."

Dean couldn't tell him it wasn't, which was Sam's point. With a noise in the back of his throat – mostly frustration but also a decent helping of concession, the man from the future rolled onto his back and stared unhappily up at the ceiling.

"I get it. I can't say I know what exactly what you're going through but… I do get it, Sammy." He ran a hand down his face and tried to force all of the defeatist fear and just damn tiredness into resolve. It worked, sort of. Well enough, for now, for him to turn back onto his side to face his brother. "Still, we gotta figure out how to not do this." He waved his finger between them. "Secrets are gonna end badly for us, every time. And I know – I'm a hypocrite – but I'm trying too. We just gotta…figure it out."

Sam fell silent for a moment before stirring enough to lay down on the bed, still atop the covers. "How?"

Because Sam had needed that time. He hadn't been keeping a secret, he'd been…trying to process it so he could be in a place where he could even tell his brother to begin with.

It wasn't accusatory, just quiet. Still, it dug little claws in to Dean's heart all the same. He didn't like when he didn't have answers for his kid brother. It was worse with this version of his brother, because of the emphasis on kid. He'd never felt older and more like the protector he had always been charged with being. It was only time that would tell whether he did it better this time around or so much worse.

"I don't know," he admitted, quiet himself. "We've never been good at it. I guess we… I dunno, we gotta figure out how to be able to say stuff with no judgement. No criticism. And early on, cuz waiting only ever makes it worse, every damn time. So, you just… you tell me something because I need to hear it and that'll…that'll be it. No questions asked, and vice versa."

Easier said than done, he knew. He was thankful Sam didn't snort at the words outright. God knew, Dean wanted to himself. Like it could ever be that simple with them.

"Yeah." Sam's voice, still quiet, said as much, but he didn't outright call it out. He lolled his head to the side to meet Dean's eyes. "We can at least try it, right?"

Dean huffed, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Let's start with that."

-o-o-o-

Sam slept that night with Cas's coin underneath his pillow and he didn't dream, of Azazel or otherwise. He didn't dream any night going forward. They carried a hex bag each wherever they went, and always had spares in the trunk. Dean tucked one up into the wheel well of Baby, grumbling the entire time about witchcraft getting anywhere near his precious car (which Sam countered by pointing out the contents of their trunk, one item at a time until Dean conceded with a classic 'Shut up, Sam, I'm grumbling here' and all was right with the world). The only reason he'd conceded to doing it at all was because it had been Sam's idea, and he was pretty sure the kid would have done it without his know-how if he'd said no. And that woulda just pissed him off, not to mention been a sort of secret, and they were trying not to do that. Dean figured part of that meant not backing Sam into the kind of corner where secrets were necessary. So there he was, putting a friggin witch's bag of voodoo all up in his Baby and desperately not thinking about the poor violation she was suffering.

Protection, Dean, Sam had countered and again, Shut up, Sam, I'm bitching over here and you're gonna let me or so help me-

When he mentioned devil-trapping the car later that same day, Dean surprised him by just grinning rather than outright refusing to alter his precious car in any way. Nevermind the one spray-painted in the trunk (which had given Sam some hope that Dean might let put one in the cab), Dean just reached up and patted the roof of his car lovingly.

"What, you think I'd waste the perfect opportunity restoring her?"

Sam stared at the upholstery of the car's roof, the creamy beige that Dean had been able to mostly save from before the crash. He darted his eyes back to his older brother in disbelief. Dean just grinned.

"Carved one right into her frame. Put the headliner back on top." He moved his hand back to the wheel, looking damn pleased with himself. "Any demon shows up in this car, he ain't getting back out."

Which might prove troublesome later on with Crowley, but one in a million demons was decent odds to deal with. Plus, he never wanted that smarmy bastard anyway near Baby anyway, no matter how helpful he was on occasion or the weird I-sort-of-tolerate-you-and-sometimes-almost-even-like-you-but-also-hate-your-guts feeling he always got around the demon. Like he'd told himself when he was busy carving the trap on the underside of the roof: they'd burn or build that bridge when they got to it.

Sam just grinned, the expression one of obvious relief and Dean could tell he was thinking he shouldn't have doubted his amazing big brother. Sparing him the need to say it aloud, Dean said it for him and got a bitchface in return (and all was right with the world again).

-o-o-o-

Two days later, as Dean was coming back to the car with a bag full of burgers and rabbit food (and pie of course), his phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket as he opened up the car door and tossed the food to Sam.

"Hello," he said as he climbed into Baby.

"So. Psychic, huh?"

Dean grinned immediately and couldn't help the laugh. "The clown show up?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this-" he could hear Ellen's amused disbelief, and it just made him grin more- "but yes, Dean, the killer clown showed up. Just like you said he would."

Oh yeah, there was definitely amusement in there.

Sam was giving him the kind of eyebrows that might as well have been poking him in the arm for answers by that point but he didn't bother giving any. The conversation was a short one, anyway.

"Sam and I are on our way."

He hit the end button and started the engine up. Sam was still staring expectantly.

"We're going to the roadhouse," he said by explanation and then turned that grin on his brother, cranked it up to shit-eating level just for kicks, and added, "We've got a killer clown on the loose."

The expression on his brother's face was totally worth it all over again.

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

A/N: Aaaaaand we are officially back in Season 2! FINALLY.

Delay Warning: I know, I know, this suuuucks because the story has been on delay for months now. Trust me, I know and I'm right there with you guys. But I need the time (and planned time, not "Work's too busy or my stupid brain chemicals are stupid") to build my stockpile of chapters back up. I can't keep doing this week by week; I'm a slow writer and feeling like I have to write every day puts me in rut-land immediately. Then it's demoralizing when I inevitably fail and I make you guys wait. So, yes, I know the delay is the absolute opposite of awesome sauce but I promise the wait will be worth it.

Up Next: Season 2.1 (or Season Two, Take Two) We have a quicky with a killer clown for poor Sammy to deal with (and Dean's gonna be no help at all), Gordan Walker is just around the corner, Andy Gallagher after that (that jedi-tricking bowl of awesomeness in a robe with his polar bear riding Viking queen of a van). Not to mention more Ellen and Jo, the mother-friggin Croatoan virus AND GABRIEL! I mean, he'll be a while but he's in the line up. Home run, hitter, that one.

Season 2 is gonna be fun, guys :D

Review: So no one really wants to review after being told there's *another* month delay coming, but please remember that I do much much much better with encouragement. If you've enjoyed the last 24 chapters of not-season-two-ness that have stressed me the mother-stressing stressor stressafied of all stressed outness (that's not even a full sentence, girl, let alone a thing), I would really really, really appreciate hearing it. For all you lurkers out there, this would be a good once-a-season time to review, kay? Kay.

And if you are excited for season 2, have requests or ideas about what you think is gonna happen, LEMME HEAR IT!

As always, thanks for sticking with me.