AN: This is still a Castiel-centric story, and I swear, he's coming up soon.
Sam Winchester is dead.
Dean lays his body on a filthy mattress in an old cabin that creaks and groans under the weight of its own decay. Dust motes dance through the few thin shafts of early morning light that manage to penetrate the grimy windows.
The air is thick with the musty scent of age and abandonment, made sharp by the metallic undertone of blood.
Sam Winchester is dead.
Dean says nothing.
Reed knows that nothing she says could possibly ease his pain, so she says nothing. Simply stands at his side, offering silent support.
Sam Winchester is dead.
•๑ ๑•
The silence in the cabin was broken by the creak of the door as Bobby entered, a bucket of fried chicken in his hand. The smell of grease cut through the stale air. "Dean? Reed? Brought you this back," he said, his voice gruff.
Dean didn't even turn to look. "No, thanks. I'm fine," he muttered, his voice rough. Reed moved closer to Dean, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off without a word and moved to the little wooden table, opening the bottle of whiskey he'd been steadily polishing off. He drank long and deep, before settling heavily into a nearby chair.
Reed continued to hover in the doorway, silent. What could she say?
Bobby sighed, gentle and defeated. "Dean... I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time... we bury Sam?"
The tension in the room skyrocketed. Dean's shoulders stiffened. "No," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Bobby pressed on though, his voice more hesitant. "We could maybe..."
"What? Torch his corpse?" Dean interrupted, his voice eerily calm. "Not yet."
Reed flinched at the words.
Bobby's voice took on a pleading note. "I want you to come with me."
"I'm not going anywhere," Dean stated flatly.
"Dean, please," Bobby tried again.
There was a raw, bleeding edge to his voice when he responded. "Would you cut me some slack?"
Bobby leaned forward, his tone placating. "I just don't think you should be alone, that's all. I gotta admit, I could use your help. Both of you."
A small scoff was Dean's only response.
"Something big is going down – end-of-the world big," Bobby added, his voice grave.
Finally, Dean's composure cracked. "Well, then let it end!" he shouted. It was a bellow - a roar - the deep, wounded cry of an animal backed into a corner.
Bobby shook his head. "You don't mean that."
Dean stalked towards Bobby, getting right in his face. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough? I'm done with it. All of it."
Reed quickly stepped between them, her hands raised. "Dean, please."
The look he gave her then could have frozen her blood solid and Bobby gently moved her aside, out of the path of Dean's ire.
"If you know what's good for you, you'd turn around, and get the hell out of here."
Neither of them moved, and without warning, Dean exploded, shoving roughly at Bobby. "Go!" he yelled.
Then, as quickly as his anger had flared, it seemed to drain out of him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just go."
Bobby hesitated for a moment, eyes shining with unshed tears, shoulders slumped in defeat. "You know where I'll be," he said softly, turning towards the door.
Reed hesitated, her eyes darted between them.
"You too, Reed," Dean said, his voice softer but no less firm. "Just... go."
With a last, worried look at Dean, Reed nodded sadly and followed Bobby out of the shack, leaving Dean alone with his grief and the oppressive silence of the decaying building.
•๑ ๑•
The knock on the door startled Bobby from his brooding. He'd been lost in thought, worrying - worrying about Dean, worrying about Reed, worried about the damn end of the world that seemed to be looming.
Reed had gone into town to get supplies, she'd said, but he was pretty sure she just needed to get out of the house for a while. Girl was strong, but he knew she was struggling.
Bobby opened the door, and had to work hard to control his shock as he took in the impossible sight before him - Sam, alive and whole, when just a day ago he'd been dead in Dean's arms.
"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, his voice tight, unable to meet the older hunter's eyes.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam echoed brightly, seemingly unaware of the weight in the air.
Bobby's jaw clenched tight as his eyes moved between the brothers, lingering on Dean's guilty posture. His chest ached with a father's fury and grief as the pieces clicked into place.
"Sam. It's good to... see you up and around," Bobby managed, his throat tight.
As Sam stepped past him into the house, Bobby's steely gaze fixed on Dean, who seemed to shrink under the weight of it. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but a demon deal seemed like the only explanation. He hoped he was wrong, but Dean's behavior wasn't encouraging.
Years of practice kept Bobby's hands steady, though they itched to grab the boy and shake some sense into him. Instead, he stood perfectly still, letting the silence stretch.
His mind went immediately to Reed. The girl who was like a daughter to him would be devastated when she figured out what Dean had done. And she would figure it out - she was too sharp not to.
He listened with half an ear as Dean stiffly asked about any new information, clearly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Bobby played along for now, leading them inside and explaining about the demonic omens he'd found. As he sent Sam off to look over the research, Bobby turned to Dean. "Come on, Dean. I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in."
The walk through the junkyard was silent save for their boots crunching on gravel. Bobby thought again of Reed. She'd lost so much already. Whatever Dean had done... it would break something in her.
When they were far enough from the house, Bobby stopped. He didn't turn around immediately, taking a moment to rein in the fury that threatened to spill over. When he did face Dean, his voice was deadly calm.
Bobby's voice cut through the evening air like a knife, rough with barely contained fury.
"You stupid ass! What did you do?"
Dean's shoulders hunched as he turned away, unable to meet Bobby's piercing gaze. The guilt was etched into every line of his face, aging him beyond his years. Bobby's weathered hands shot out, grabbing Dean's jacket and shoving him back against a nearby junker. The metal creaked in protest.
"What did you do?!" The words carried decades of paternal fear. "You made a deal... For Sam, didn't you? How long did they give you?"
"Bobby," Dean's voice cracked on the name, green eyes haunted and pleading.
"How long?!" Bobby's knuckles whitened around Dean's jacket, the leather creasing under his grip.
"One year," The words seemed to physically pain Dean as they left his mouth, hanging in the air like a death sentence.
"Damn it, Dean." Bobby released him with a growl, running a calloused hand over his beard. The evening breeze carried the scent of motor oil and coming rain.
Dean straightened, desperation bleeding into his voice as he spoke. "Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. That's why I'm gonna kill him myself. I mean, I got nothing to lose now, right?"
Bobby's control snapped. He lunged forward, fingers twisting in Dean's collar as he slammed him back against the car again. "I could throttle you!"
"What, and send me downstairs ahead of schedule?" Bobby clearly didn't appreciate Dean's attempt at humor, and neither of them noticed movement at the edge of the junkyard. Reed stood there, arms laden with grocery bags, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her.
"What is it with you Winchesters, huh?" Bobby's voice was thick with emotion, his grip on Dean's jacket white-knuckled. "You, your dad. You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit."
Dean's next words tumbled out in a rush of self-loathing. "That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? I-I-It's like my life could mean something."
"What? And it didn't before?!" Bobby's shout echoed off the surrounding cars. His face was a mask of fury and grief as he shook Dean roughly. "Have you got that low of an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head?!"
A choked gasp cut through the tension. Dean and Bobby turned sharply to find Reed standing between two junkers, a paper bag slipping from her nerveless fingers. Cans clattered against the gravel as the bag hit the ground.
"Dean?" Her voice was barely there, dark eyes wide and searching as they moved between him and Bobby.
Dean's face went carefully blank, that mask he always wore slipping into place. But Reed had known him too long not to see the guilt and fear underneath. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady.
"What did you do?"
Bobby's face was carved from stone, but his eyes held a father's grief as he watched his girl piece it together.
A metallic clang from deeper in the yard had them all tensing. Bobby and Dean instinctively moved towards the sound, momentarily distracted from the confrontation with Reed. They crawled to the side of a car and grabbed the intruder. Once they had her by the shoulders, they recognized her as Ellen.
As they helped Ellen to her feet, Bobby glanced back at Reed. She stood frozen in place, her face pale, hands shaking slightly at her sides, spilled groceries lying forgotten at her feet. Her mind was a cacophony of black eyes, screaming and blood. She dug her nails into her palms, using the sharp pain to ground herself.
As they led Ellen towards the house, Bobby caught Dean's eye and jerked his head towards Reed. Dean nodded, understanding the unspoken command to talk to her. Bobby just hoped that whatever Dean said wouldn't make things worse. Reed was tough, tougher than most people gave her credit for, but this... this might be more than even she could handle.
Once Bobby and Ellen were out of earshot, Dean approached Reed cautiously. She stood rooted to the spot, her dark eyes wide and searching as they locked onto Dean's face. The air between them was thick with tension.
"Reed," Dean began, his voice low and hesitant. "I can explain-"
"Sam's alive," Reed cut him off. It wasn't a question.
Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. He is."
Reed's eyes narrowed, her sharp mind clearly working overtime. "And you made a deal." Again, not a question. Her voice was quiet but steady, years of pushing down trauma letting her focus on the facts, but the panic clawing at her throat. She'd lost her whole family to demons once. Now she was going to lose Dean to them too.
Dean's silence was answer enough. Reed ran a hand through her messy hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. When she spoke again, her voice was tight with barely controlled emotion.
"How could you, Dean? A demon deal? After everything we've been through, everything we've seen..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
"I had to, Reed," Dean snapped, defensive anger flooding his features. "It was Sam. I couldn't just let him-"
"One year," Reed interrupted, her voice cracking. "I heard Bobby. They only gave you one year."
Dean looked away, unable to meet her intense gaze. "Yeah."
Reed stepped closer, dark eyes blazing. "What about Bobby? What about-" She cut herself off, looking away.
Dean's expression softened slightly. "Come on, Reed. You know I had to."
Reed's composure finally broke. She surged forward, shoving Dean hard in the chest. "You idiot!" she yelled, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Do you have any idea what you've done? What this will do to Sam when he finds out? To Bobby? To-" She cut herself off, but the unspoken 'to me' hung in the air between them.
Dean caught her wrists gently as she went to shove him again. "Reed, please. You have to understand. It's my job to protect Sammy. It's always been my job."
Reed wrenched her hands free, taking a step back. "And who protects you, Dean? Huh? Did you even think about that?"
Dean's expression hardened. "I don't need protection. I need Sam alive."
Reed laughed bitterly. "God, you Winchesters and your self-sacrificing bullshit. You know what? Screw you, Dean. Screw you for thinking so little of yourself that you'd throw your life away. Screw you for not considering what this would do to the people who care about you."
Dean flinched at her words, but before he could respond, Reed continued, her voice softening slightly.
"I get it, okay? I do. If I could bring my family back..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "But this? Making a deal with a demon? Dean, you know better than anyone what that means. What's waiting for you..."
Dean's expression softened. "Reed, I-"
"No," Reed cut him off, holding up a hand. "I can't... I can't do this right now." She turned away, needing space before the memories overwhelmed her completely. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "I'm glad Sam's okay. Really, I am. But Dean, don't expect me to be okay with how you did it."
With that, Reed walked away, leaving Dean standing alone in the junkyard.
Years of hunting had taught her to compartmentalize - lock down the fear, push through. She could hear Ellen's voice mixing with Bobby's gruff responses. She took one steady breath, then another. Once she was inside Bobby's study, the familiar scent of old books and whiskey wrapped around her like armor. She tried to ignore Dean as he followed her inside.
She leaned over Bobby's shoulder, focusing on the map spread across his desk rather than the way her skin crawled at the thought of demons.
"Well, I'll be damned," Bobby muttered, tapping the worn paper.
Sam straightened, eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths. "What? You got something?"
Bobby nodded, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "A lot more than that. Each of these X's," he pointed to the marks on the map spread before them, "is an abandoned frontier church— all mid-19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt."
"Samuel Colt— the demon-killing, gunmaking Samuel Colt?" Dean asked from where he lounged against the doorframe, false casualness in every line of his body.
"Yep," Bobby confirmed, his gruff voice tinged with excitement. "And there's more. He built private railway lines connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this." He connected the points on the map until the shape of a star emerged.
"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed, pushing off the wall. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."
"It's a Devil's Trap," Sam breathed, awe evident in his voice. "A 100-square mile Devil's Trap."
Reed's voice was shaky as she asked, "A Devil's Trap that big? Is that even possible?" Her mind reeled at the implications, a mixture of fear and fascination churning in her gut.
Dean shook his head in amazement. "That's brilliant. Iron lines demons can't cross."
Ellen leaned in, her eyes scanning the map. "I've never heard of anything that massive."
"No one has," Bobby agreed, his tone grave.
For Reed, everything that happened in the next few hours seemed like a horrible blur - a sweaty, bloodsoaked nightmare she couldn't wake up from. The creaking sound of the cemetery gate swinging open, Jake's confident stride towards the crypt, Dean's tense figure behind a tomb - it all felt surreal, disconnected.
Like a fever dream, they learned of Jake's newfound abilities, watched Ellen's gun shakily pointed at her own head, heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground - it all swirled together in Reed's mind, a kaleidoscope of terror.
When Sam shot Jake, the sound of gunfire seemed muffled, distant. Reed flinched at each shot, her vision blurring as blood spattered across Sam's face. The cold satisfaction in Sam's eyes as he emptied his clip into Jake's body sent a chill down her spine.
The crypt doors spinning open, Bobby's grim pronouncement - "It's hell" - it all felt like some twisted nightmare. Reed's legs moved of their own accord as they ran for cover, the rush of escaping demons a deafening roar in her ears.
The confrontation with Azazel, John Winchester's appearance, the revelation of Dean's deal, the implications for Sam - it all played out like a hazy, horrific vision. Reed felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion.
•๑ ๑•
Reed couldn't sleep. She lay on the too-firm motel bed replaying the events of the day in her head - Sam's resurrection, the demon gate, John Winchester's spirit helping them defeat Azazel. But underneath it all was the crushing weight of Dean's deal.
One year. Just one year, and then Dean would be dragged to Hell.
The thought made her physically ill. She'd grown up around hunters, had seen them make desperate choices before, but this... this was different. This was Dean. The same Dean who'd taught her how to throw a proper punch when they were kids, who'd snuck her candy bars when Bobby wasn't looking, who'd always treated her like a little sister even though she was technically older.
And now he was going to Hell.
The room suddenly felt suffocating. Carefully, trying not to wake the brothers, Reed slipped out of bed. She was still fully dressed - none of them had really bothered to change, too exhausted and shell-shocked from the day's events. Her boots made soft scuffing sounds on the worn carpet as she made her way to the door.
The night air was cool on her face as she stepped outside. The parking lot was empty except for the Impala and a beat-up pickup truck, both casting long shadows in the dim light of the single working street lamp. Reed walked a few steps away from the room, wrapping her arms around herself.
She felt lost, helpless in a way she hadn't since she was six years old, watching demons tear her family apart. The familiar panic started to rise in her chest at the memory, and she quickly pushed it away. She couldn't afford to fall apart right now.
Almost without conscious thought, she found herself thinking of Gabriel. The archangel who'd turned her world upside down just a few weeks ago, who'd made her promise to stay away from angel business. But this wasn't about angels - this was about family. And she was desperate enough to try anything.
Feeling slightly foolish, Reed closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. "Gabriel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know if you're listening, but... I need you."
The parking lot remained silent. A car passed on the distant highway, its headlights briefly illuminating the space before fading away.
"Please," she tried again, her voice cracking. "I know you probably don't care, but… these are my friends. My family. I can't just stand by and do nothing."
Still nothing. Reed let out a shaky breath, dropping her hands. Of course he wouldn't come. She was just another human, and he was an archangel. Why would he-
The air shifted suddenly, carrying that now-familiar scent of ozone and sweetness. Reed's breath caught in her throat as she felt the static charge dance across her skin. The flutter of wings was almost imperceptible, but Reed felt the shift in the air and when she opened her eyes, Gabriel was standing a few feet away, his golden wings drawn tight against his back, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
Even in the dim light of the parking lot, his true form shimmered and pulsed with energy. The sight of it still took her breath away, though she was getting better at not staring openly at his wings.
"Hey sugar," he said gently, and his eyes held a warmth that immediately broke something loose in her and she had to furiously blink away the tears threatening to form.
Reed straightened, squaring her shoulders. "You actually came."
"Don't sound so surprised." Gabriel was a study in forced casualness - his posture relaxed, his wings shifting restlessly.
"Yeah, well." Reed crossed her arms, suddenly unsure now that he was actually here. "I didn't really expect..." She shook her head. "Never mind. "Dean made a deal," she blurted out, her voice cracking. "A demon deal. One year." She had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat, wrapping her arms around herself tightly.
Gabriel's wings rustled restlessly, and he took a step closer. "I know," he said softly.
"You know?" Reed's eyes snapped to his face, anger flaring hot and sudden in her chest. "What do you mean you know?"
"I mean I know," Gabriel repeated, his voice heavy with something Reed couldn't quite identify. "I've been keeping tabs."
"Then why didn't you-" Reed bit off the accusation, running both hands through her hair in frustration. "You're an archangel. Couldn't you have done something?"
Gabriel's expression softened with sympathy, but there was an edge of ancient weariness in his eyes. "It doesn't work like that, kiddo. Some things... some things have to play out the way they're meant to."
"Then how does it work?" Reed demanded, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you could have helped and chose not to."
"Careful," Gabriel warned, though there was no real heat in his voice.
"What does that even mean? 'The way they're meant to'?" Reed echoed incredulously. "Dean's going to Hell. How can that possibly be the way things are meant to be?"
Gabriel studied her for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable, then reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently touching her shoulder. The contact sent warmth spreading through Reed's body, a tingling sensation that was both foreign and oddly familiar.
"I know something about watching family make terrible choices," he finally said, his voice heavy with meaning. "Sometimes all you can do is be there to pick up the pieces."
Reed slumped under his touch, suddenly exhausted. "So what, I just watch Dean die? Watch Sam lose his mind trying to save him?"
"You be there," Gabriel said simply. "You fight. You do whatever you can to help them." He paused, then added with a hint of his usual humor, "Just try not to do anything spectacularly stupid yourself, okay? I'd hate to have to save your ass."
Despite everything, Reed felt her lips twitch. "Wouldn't want to inconvenience an archangel."
He smiled briefly before immediately becoming somber again. "There are bigger things at work here than you understand," he said carefully. "Forces that have been in motion for millennia. Dean's deal... it's part of something much larger."
Reed shrugged off his hand, taking a step back. "I don't care about forces and fate and whatever cosmic plan you're talking about. I care about Dean. About Sam. About Bobby." Her voice cracked again. "They're my family."
Gabriel's wings shifted, golden feathers catching the dim light of the parking lot. For a moment, he looked ancient and impossibly sad. "I know what it's like to watch family suffer," he said quietly. "To feel powerless to stop it."
Something in his tone made Reed pause. She studied his face, noting the deep pain in his eyes. "Is that why you left Heaven?" she asked softly. "Because you couldn't watch anymore?"
Gabriel's laugh was bitter. "Something like that." He ran a hand through his hair, his wings drawing even tighter against his back. "But that's not important right now. What's important is that you understand - there are some things even I can't change. Some dominoes that have to fall."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Reed asked, her voice small and lost. her dark eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I feel so helpless."
Gabriel stepped forward again, and this time when he reached for her, she didn't pull away. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, warm and steady. Reed just looked up at him, eyes burning with tears that she wouldn't let fall.
"I know, sugar." Gabriel murmured, pulling her into a gentle embrace. His wings curved forward instinctively, creating a cocoon of golden feathers around them. Reed buried her face in his chest, breathing in that strange mixture of ozone and sweetness that seemed to cling to him.
They stood like that for a long moment, Gabriel's wings wrapped protectively around them both. Reed could feel the steady thrum of power beneath his skin, the barely contained energy of his true form. It should have been terrifying, but instead, it was oddly comforting.
If you're reading this and enjoying it, I'd love if you could drop a comment. I'm writing this for myself, mostly, but it would be great to know I'm not just screaming into the void.