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The Long and Winding Road the 2nd

Chapter Text

John Winchester pushed the door open and entered, carrying a duffel bag. He walked through the dark and dripping hallway to a clear space, where he placed the bag down.

The Winchester pulled out a box of white chalk and started drawing a large symbol on the floor. Then he unpacked the remaining contents and assembled them before himself one after another, the process of it slow due to his broken arm.

While it should complicate matters for a normal person, it didn't for John, as he had experience from many injuries suffered before. He put out the six candles, one for each circle drawn in the symbol, and lighted them.

The bowl was next, he put in the ingredients and sliced his right Hand with his good arm. He put down the knife and held his hand above the bowl, for the blood to drop while mumbling the summoning spell.

His hand was trembling, he noticed. Definitely not from cold. No something else was the reason, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear.

He had long stopped being afraid of the things he hunted. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore and instead he would be angry, hateful or disgusted of them whenever on a hunt.

But now he was afraid. Terrified even. Sure, he was angry, too, but mostly he was just incredibly terrified. Not because of yellow eye, but rather for Dean's sake. He was afraid to lose his son.


Then the spell was finished and he lighted the match and let it fall into the bowl. His gaze didn’t follow the match and instead searched the room for any new occupants. He waited for the spell to be finished with the sicle of a big flame. But nothing ever came so he looked down to inspected his work and find the mistake.

And to his surprise and utter terror the match had stopped midair. As well had the candles' flame slight waver. Everything had just stopped, frozen in time. When he looked back up again a man in a black suit, lopsided blue tie, tan trench coat, messy black hair and unnatural ocean blue eyes was standing directly in front of him.

The man moved the bowl aeay from rhe match's reach with the wave of a hand. He made another gesture with his hand and instantly the match continued it's fall, missing the bowl.

John backed away two steps with professional calm while pulling out the Colt and aiming it at the stranger. He didn’t seemed to be bothered at all. And instead of panic or anything alike there was confusion in his face and he cocked his head slightly like some kind of freaking bird.

"What're you?! What yoi want?" His requests was meet by more unblinking stares and more confused head cocking.

And just when John was about to repeat himself the stranger replied: "Hello, John Winchester. There is no importance to what I am, but if it reassures you I'm not the demon you hunt", and simultaneously his eyes glowed white for the briefest of seconds "And to what my Intentions are. I'm here to help. You want to make a deal John, didn't you? Then let’s make a deal."

John released the breath he hasn’t even bern aware he was holding. "What is the price for my son's life?" He asked instantly without thinking twice.

"A life." The answer was cold, just as the man's -demon or whatever he is- face but it wasn’t a thread. "Take mine." He offered. "No. I’m not interested in yours." John felt shocked and it took him quite a while to consider what had been said and answer to it. "If not mine, who's? " "Azazel’s." John’s face went white (the demon/ man/ whatever knew it’s name?) and he thought the Colt would slide out of his trembling hands, but in fact his grip tightened even more. "I believe you are familiar with him and have figured out his name. Anyway, I'll heal your son and in exchange for that you'll help me kill the demon. Is that to your likings?”

Kohn was baffled by the demons formal way of talking but answered calm and steady “Yes. So we have a deal?” He didn’t knew where the hope for it to be so easy had come from but it was destroyed instantly. “No.”

”What more do you want?” he asked it. “The Colt and the bullet. For save keeping.” The tone never changed but still it made a commands out of every word itself. And honestly? If John wasn’t so disgusted, he’d be amazed.

“Have we a deal?” it repeated John’s earlier question. Once again his mouth acted without his brain when he immediately agreed without a second thought. “Yes. Save Dean and I’ll kill the demon.” He summarized the deal. “No. You’ll help me to take down the demon… And give the Colt to me for save keeping.” He added and extended his hand.

He gripped the gun thighter “No. You wont get it until Dean’s healed” And for the first time the thing did something remotely like a human.

It rolled it’s eyes.

Then it disappeared for a few seconds before it reappeared again. “He’s healed now.” Ones again it reached for the Colt but was interrupted by John again. “What, and you think I’ll take you’re word?! You’ll get the Colt when I’ve seen him with my own eyes, you moron.” It’s arm slumped back to it’s side. “Fine.”

"So, how do we seal the deal?... uhm… A kiss?" It wass a rather unpleasant afterthought but the thing answered never the less. "I will touch your soul and burn a mark into it to claim it as mine. Afterwards it'll be upon me to decide what to do with it. In this case I’ll just keep it as a deposit which will be returned to you as soon as our matters regarding the demon are done.” And before John had the chance to ask what was meant the think was suddenly infrot of him with one of it’s hands rested on John’s shoulder, holding him in place, while the other Hand was pressing against his chest.

Almost immediately he was flooded by a hot burning pain. He tried to hold back the urge to scream, but that soon enough turned out to be impossible and it wasn’t long after, that John was howling in pain under it’s unmoving grip.


He could literally feel the hand that before had been idly lying on his chest, now clawing it’s way into him, causing the unbearable pain. His one good hand gripped desperately at the trench coat for hold while his knees buckled beneath him.

His muscles were still twitching and aching when the pain had finally ended. He felt weak and he knew he would have hit the ground hard if it hadn’t been for the steady hand lowering him down to the floor. The last thing he noticed was that he was once again alone then he lost consciousness.




“Help! I need help!” Sam was panicking but he remembered himself enough to shout that much before his attention went back to his brother twitching in the hospital bed and coughing all the while.


The personnel rushed by, giving him pitfil glances, he would have hated on any otherday, but now Sam couldn’t care less. ‘Cause his brother might be dying.

And there was just nothing he could do. There was no monster to blame. No monster to kill. No monster beside yellow eye. But killing him would do nothing to Dean's health.

Revenge wouldn’t save his save his brother now and there was no way in hell he would leave his brother’s side for something that wouldn’t save his life.

He focused back into reality and noticed something major.

His eyes were open, Dean seemed to be wide awake and healthy as hell. The doctor and nurses were removing all the tubes, the heart monitor was perfectly normal and all the stitched up cuts and wounds had been replaced with smooth and healthy skin.

Sam’s jaw dropped automatically and he heard himself mutter something along the line of Oh, god.

As soon as the nurses stepped back and left the room Sam immediately rushed to Dean’s side and checked him over himself.

He was fine! “You’re fine.” He breathed “How’re you feelin’?” Dean looked a bit overwhelmed but answered anyway. “I’m fine, Sammy. Fine.” Sam resisted the urge to correct his name and laughed instead. “What about you? You ‘kay?” Dean asked without bothering any longer with his own health. “Yeah, fine.” “How’s Dad doin’?” he asked next.

The doctor, who by the way was still in the room coughed, interrupting their family business. “sorry, Mr. McGillanty, but there are certain things I’d like to discus with you and your brother about his health.” he said dirwvting his request at Sam.

Later on when the doctor had finally left after listing every single injurie Dean had suffered that had miraculously vanished, which included all of Dean’s injuries.

Dean once again asked “So, where’s Dad? How’s he doing?” Sam snorted at that, ‘cause Dean always caref about them. Always caref for their father. Alwayd cared for their health. And always worried when either of them would be injured or sick. 

But had John cared when Dean had been dying? No! He had still hunted after his stupid revenge!

“Oh, he’s fine. Though to where he is I have no idea. “ He stated. “What?!” The shock and hurt on Dean’s face was clear for a second before he slipped hid mask back on. “He wasn’t in his room last night. The bastard probably hunts that demon again.” He continued further.

Dean send him a disapproving look but nothing more. “Sooo… What happened, while I was… gone?” Dean asked, changing topics.

“After the crash we…” Sam told him everything and was happy to see Dean cracking a smile at one point or another. They were still trying to figure out how the miraculous healing of all of Dean’s internal and visible injuries was possible when a knock at the door interrupted them.


They simultaneously looked up, to see Dad standing in the doorway. He actually smiled and asked “How ya feelin’ son?”

Dean smiled back with a big grin, not bothering at all that the man was only now here and not early when he had awoken. “Good, Dad, I’m fine.” John's smile widened a bit ”That's good to hear.”


The jung Winchester snorted automatically “No thanks to you.” The attention in the room shifted to the speaker. Sam.

“Where were you last night? You summoned the demon, didn’t you?” he asked bitter. “No.” at that Sam actually had to hold back a laugh. ‘Cause that was just Insulting. Just how stupid does he think I am?

“Why don’t I believe you?” he spat approaching his father. “Sam, you don’t understa-“ his explanation was cut short when Sam took a step closer to shout at him.

“There is NOTHING to understand, Dad! Cause Dean was dying and you couldn’t care enough to help him, now could you?! You were to busy getting you’re revenge! No, wait. You didn’t. You were just trying. You were to busy trying to get revenge to help Dean!” Sam panted for air.

At some point he had started to scream, he noticed. Then he continued his voice a desperate whisper. “There is nothing left to explain, Dad.”


After that Sam took his jacket and left the room with a nearly silent “I’ll get the car ready, we’ll leave in an hour.”


Chapter Text

John approached his son's bed with a smile tucking lightly at his lips. He took a seat in the chair nearest to Dean.

"It’s good to see you awake and healthy." He lamely remarked after an awkward silence. "Well, it feels good to be awake and healthy, too." His eldest joked.

"But seriously now. Although I appreciate it a hell of a lot to be alive and kicking, I'd really love to know whose- or rather what's work this miracle realy is. Any ideas on that front, dad?" He asked, subconsiousley looking at his dad with the admiration of a four year old.


The Winchester frowned somewhat exausted,  rubing the bringe of his nose "I don’t know Dean." He said, the lie coming smoothly from his lips.

"Too bad." Dean said, pitty, about their slow process, evidend in his voice but showing not even the slightest signs of disapointment towards his father.


"Do you think the reaper that's been hunting me has anything to do with all this? I mean they would have the mojo to do so, right?" He suggested after thinking about the matter for what seemed to be forever.

He still remembered the last  time they had to deal with a reaper very well. Back then he would have died, if it hadn’t been for the fake faith healer.


This guy hadn’t actually healed him, but transfered his illnes to some other poor sucker. So did that even count as healing? He wondered. Or was somewhere out there another dead inocent, that died in his stead? He worried. He didn’t exactly cherish the idea of dying, but honestly he would rather die than keep on living at the cost of somebody else's life. 


"The reaper, who hunted you?" His father repeated confused. "Uh, yeah. It came after me when I was... uhm... asleep." He explained, not too woried about it.

"Dean, when were you planning to tell me that? Why didn’t you mention it earlier!?" John asked, a mixture of anger, shock and disapointment in his voice.

"I thought you knew, didn’t Sammy tell you?" His son unvoluntarily lowered his gaze to the floor, the abashed shame of a kid lingering in his eyes. "He didn’t." His dad confirmed with a now calmer voice.


"Where were you anyway?" Dean asked curious though not with the same reproach like Sam before.

"There was something Important I had to do." The intel was as ever nonexistened, but Dean let it slide anyway.


"You should get some rest now. We can figure out who or what is responsible for this miracle when we’re at Bobby’s." John said, successfully changing topics. And left, after giving Dean a resuring pad on the shoulder, for his own room.

When he entered he found the demon already waiting for him. It was sitting casually on John’s bed, appearing for the second time slightly human, although still awkward, with it’s unblinking gaze steadily on John.

He shut the door behind him, though careful not to take his eyes of the monster in the tan coat.

As soon as the door had been closed the thing stood up and walked over to John, once again extending it’s hand towards him, for him to put the Colt in it.

This time he did as wished.


It pocketed the gun and then stretch out it’s arm again. This time offering something himself.

“What is this?” he asked, as he picked up the object and turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. “A cell phone.” It stated. He frowned out loud. “I know what it is, stupid! I meant: What is it for!?”


Suprisingly enough the creature seemed genuinely confused when it answered “Oh. It’s used to communicate with an other person despite a long distance.” John found himself face palming in frustration at that. Was the demon really that stupid or was it trying to anoy him (if so, it probably succeded already)? He wondered. “No, that’s still not what I meant.”

Another incredibly innocent Oh, for a monster, followed. He flipped open the phone to look at it’s contacts. One input. Cas


“Why did you give me a phone? I already have one.” He asked, more clearly this time. And luckily his opposite seemed to have finally understood what was meant. “It contains my number, so you may contact me if needed.”

Well, that was unexpected. A demon was giving him his cell phone number. A demon with a phone!

He had been hunting yellow eyes for about 20 years now. Collecting information about demons all the while, but never before had he encountered a demon with a cell phone.


“Wait. Slow down. You have a phone?!” he announced his suprise out loud “Yes.” The demon said. And although his face remained emotionless, his posture stiffened even further indicating just how uncomfortable he was.

“YOU? Why would you need a phone?” he was really enjoying this quite a lot. Normal demons would just communicate via blood goblet or just appeare when they wanted to talk. But this one had a phone.


"My normal way of communicatIon is less... efficent, considering the circumstances and more obvious to some people I try to avoid." He explained

“Let’s say I’m not very popular with… many people. And those don’t want me to intervene with their matters. Which include hell.“ He said sheepishly, when John raised a questioning brow.

“And your name is Cas?” he asked suprised of the not quite demonic name. "Yes.” It lifted the duffle bag off the bed and handed it to John.

He slowly sat it on the floor to look it through cautious to never let his guard down or show any weakness. His stuff was still there, but some new things had been added.


Lots of papers, a bag with small boxes and jars, each labeled different (Fairybones, gryphon feather,…) , and a jar of blood. “What’s this?” He asked as he rummaged through all that stuff.

“The papers explain how to do sigils and hex bags for warding and protection. One for example will ward you off of all demonic beeings. It will make your presence unknown to any demon. 

Another prevents any supernatural being to hear or see anything within the sigil’s reach. Both have to be pained with a certain blood.” It pointed toward the jar of blood that John was still holding.

“The bag contains the ingredients for some of the sigils and all of the hex bags. You’re friend Bobby has antipossession charms, I would advise you and your sons to tattoo those on your body, if we're going to take down the demon." It sugested, but when it mentioned his sons John instantly pulled out his gun, aiming it at it’s head. It didn’t matter to him that it wouldn’t do anything.

“Stay away from my boys!” he growled in a low thread. The demon sighed in annoyance “If we hunt the demon the two of us wont suffice. And your sons would be the obvious choice.” The demon spoke slowly, like he was trying to explain something to a toddler.


"There is no chance in hell that I’ll involve my boys in this. And you wont either.” He said and, despite the demon having a legitimate point, released the safety catch.

“John, listen-“ he shot it once to shut it off. “No! You listen to me! We have a deal! I help you. So, stay away from my boys, freak!”


It took a step towards him and was shot for it. Though it didn’t seem to care a lot. “That’s correct. We have a deal. And I have every intention to keep my word. But beyond our deal it’s not your choice with who else I work.” He shot a third time.

“They’re my sons! It’s very well my choice!” a fourth shot. At the same time someone started to pound on the door “Dad? Dad!” Sam.

“Shit, Sammy it’s locked.” Dean.

More pounding. There was a shot from outside. Someone shooting the lock.

More pounding.

But the door wouldn’t open, as it was held closed by Cas, who was now standing within John’s personal space. “No. It’s not.” Fifth shot.

“They’re adults it’s their choice. And Sam and Dean Winchester? They’re good men. Good hunters. They wont give up on hunting that demon. They’ll hunt it with or without us. With us they have a better chance.” Sixth shot.


That seemed to have finally annoyed the demon, if John’s gun flying to the other end of the room while he himself was slammed into the wall behind him, held inches above the floor at his throat, was anything to go by.

More pounding and shouting could be heard from outside. “With us they’ll have no chance at all. We’ll doom them to death.” He choked out.

The demon’s voice softened momentarely. “John, they’re already doomed. Azazel has plans for Sam and you know as well as I do, that he wont give up on those. There’s  no way back for Sam. And Dean wont leave his brother’s side for any price. They both are already to far in. There’s no way back for either of them. And no way for you to save them from it. The only way you can save their life is by helping them take down that demon. Or in this case by letting them help you.”

The two stared at each other in silence (though not a relaxing one considering that John's feets were still dangling a few inches above the ground) sharing a sadness on behalf of the Winchester boys.


But the strange moment ended all of a suddend and the softness vanished imediately from it’s eyes. “It’s probably wise to leave as soon as possible. They’re on their way.” It informed him out of the blue with it’s  gravely, monotonous voice.

“Who?” John croaked out, his voice weak from the thight grip, which was still around his throat. “Demons. They must have noticed something is wrong.” And then it was gone.


The door flew open and Sam and Dean bursted in, with their guns at the ready, while John crashed to the floor, panting for air.

Dean dropped to the floor beside their father looking him over, while Sam checked the room for any supernatural occupants. “Clear.”

“Dad what happened? You fine?” Dean said making sure his father was fine, although he coudn’t find any physical sign of the opposite (well, beside the broken arm, his father had from the car crash).

“Yes, Dean. I'm fine.” John said after catching his breath.

“We should get going." He said, coming to his feets. "Now.” He collected his gun and the duffle bag and went straight to the hospital’s parking lot, his two confused sons on his heels.


John found the car Sam had borrowed from Bobby, an old and rusty van, which looked to be even older than John himself, with ease and went to the divers door. “Sam, give me the keys.” He held out his hand for Sam to hand them over. “No. Dad. First you tell us what the hell is going on. What attacked you? What are you hiding Dad?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re on the road.” He stretch out his arm further. “No. Now.” Sam insisted. Dean rolled his eyes and leand against the car preparing for a long discussion. His father seemed to be just as anoyed as he was, so was Sam. Exept Sam was anoyed of something else, namely dad's secrets.

“Sam, there’s no time for that. I’ll tell you later.” While the argument went on Dean let his gaze wander around the parking lot. There were only a few cars and he could only spot one more oerson beside them, an old lady in a wheelchair at the opposite side. “What do you mean there’s no time? What is going on Dad?” Sam’s anger had been fast replaced with worry and he gave the parking lot a wary glance. He saw the old lady, the only other person in the area, just as Dean had. But beside her neither noticed anything else.


At last John looked the parking lot over, too. He too spotted the old woman, wheeling her way to the hospital, but diffrent than his son's he recognized her as what she really was. “Get down.” He hissed.

Both did as told and simultaneously the three went in cover behind Bobby’s old van. “Dad? What is it?” whispered Dean.

“Demon.” He told him matter-of-factly. “How’d you know?” “We’ve been here for five minutes when we arrived she wasn’t here. The car is parked directly at the exit How’d she get over there so fast without any of us noticing he?" He explained, while they sneaked to the back of the car, “Sam, do you know, if Bobby has any weapons in the trunk.” They reached the Trunk of the car. John was nearest to it so Sam handed the keys to him. “A shotgun.” He provided.


“Oh boys! Originally I wanted to play with you guys a little longer, but you seemed to have figured it out already. So here’s the plan you come out and give me the gun and you die fast. Or we play hide and seek and you die slow. I’d prefer the last.”

John opened the trunk and took out the gun. “The last would be much more bloody and… fun.” The demon purred. “Stay with the car and look if you find more weapons. I’ll take the demon.” With that he went. “Hey, over here. You wanna have fun? That funny enough?” he fired once. It was only salt and would therefore only hurt a little, but it was all they got, so he had to do his best with it.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis legio” reloading, shooting “omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et-“ the demon was most deffinitley in oain, but unfortunately still strong enough to lift John of off the ground and slamm him into a car, he dropped to the ground unconscious with a loud thud.


The demon grinned malicious, licking it’s lips and flashing it’s theeth in a playful manor, like a predator would whenever the perfect prey had been found. But concerningly enough she was heading straight for John.

"I'm actually a bit disapointed," the demon muttered to hetself, "I expected more of-" her monologue appruptley changed onto a gurgling and hissing, when an iron chain was tossed over her head and drawn thight, by Dean.


"Suck it up, you damn son of a bitch!" He hissed into her ear.

Sam got out of the cover to finish the exorcism, he had done it only once, but he still knew most if the words. “et secta diabolica-“ but sudendly Dean was send flying and crashed into Sam, when the demon pulled on the chain, despite her imende pain, hard enough for Dean to lose his balance. The blacjeyed monster took the opportunity and turned around and graped him at his collar to throw him at his brother.

They both gritted in pain, a though it seemed to have hit Dean harder than Sam. "Ergo draco maledicte," Sam pulled himself to his feets, continuing the exorcism. "Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi-" The demon screamed in agony, but before Sam could say last seven words he grumbled back to the ground, gasping for air, while an invisible force was choking out his life.


She walked towards Sam, as asuming falsely that Dean wasn't aware enough of his surroundings to bother her. And even before she reached the youngest Winchester, she cried out in pain when another Winchester started to resume the exorcism.

But Dean didn’t make it past the second word, before he was slammed to the floor by the demon, standing suddenly in front of him. “Dean Winchester. I hit you guys with a fucking truck, shouldn’t at least one of you be dead?” Dean slowly snatched up the bottle of holy water from his jacket while the demon was distracted with her monologue “It didn’t look to good for you Dean-o, if remember correctl, and I never forget such details. So-“ she interrupted her speech to scream in agony when she was hit by the water.

He rolled out from under her and came to his feet with ease. He splashed more water on her, while triying to recite the exorcism as good as he could. “libertare...uhm .... serve.... er... libertare servire...uhm...t-te... rogatus... no...uhm te rogamus....” It seemed to work at first, but he soon ran out of holy water and exorcism, what seemed to amused the demon somewhat.


“Aw, you're sweet.” she graped both of his wrists and squeezed until they broke. “But back to my question, will we? How the fuck did you, of all people make it out alive without even the tiniest scratch?!” She boxed him into the guts sending him to the floor again.

“Don’t know,” he tried to laugh at her put spat blood instead “Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are, bitch.” The demon huffed in dry amusement “You know” The demon above him said, devouring him with her pitch-black eyes.

“You’re funny and sweet. But-“ she kicked him in the rips sending him flying against a car. “the Boss doesn’t like you. And-“ another kick, in the face, this time. He spat out blood, grinning at her with a bloody smile, despite his pain. “And he likes you? Is that why you have to do the dirty work?” he mocked.


She kicked him in the guts once and leaned her head lightly to the left, pretending to think about the question. Another kick then “Well, honestly no. He likes no one. But if it matters to you, I don’t to it because he likes me or not.”

Another pause followed with a kick. “I. DO. IT. BECAUSE. I FUCKING. CAN. AND. I. DO. IT. BECAUSE. I. FUCKING. WANT. TO.” She punctuated every word with a violent kick and then went on more smoothly with her monologue. “Who knows maybe I'll get a bonus for killing you slow.” The demon in the body of an old frail granny knelt down to Dean smiling, eyes black.


She picked him up at the collar of his shirt and started to punch him in the face. She aimed to inflict him as much pain as possible, but without killing him instantly or rendering him unconscious.


Sam could see it from were he was lying. But he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t do anything at all. His muscles started to still against his command and his vision slowly went unfocused, blackening at it’s edge.

And he knew very well, that without air he would soon fall unconscious.

A silent prayer left his mind as his eyes closed. A prayer to god. To heaven. And to all of it’s angels.

A prayer to anybody, who would listen.


Save Dean Winchester





Chapter Text

Castiel had always been a good son. A good soldier. Serving his father and his home, god and heaven. Watching over the humans in His name. Carrying out every order. Even the less pleasant ones. Sodom, Gomorrah, Orono just to name a few. Although he had only accompanied those missions as one of many he had still approved them as they were carrying out His will. The ends always justified the means.


Or so he had always thought. But God himself had been gone since the sinfall of humanity. Castiel had never served Him, but the cruel whim of his brethren. He had done terrible things under their order, whithout ever giving it a second thought, he had hurt and faught for them,... had killed for them.

Until recently he had thought himself in the right to do whatever necessary, no matter the cost, no matter the cruelity, to carry out heaven’s will.

Back then he would have followed their will to the end of the world, litteraly. And he nearly did. If it hadn’t been for the Winchesters, who showed him free will. If it hadn’t been for Dean, who had taught him to stand up for the right things, no matter how hard that might be.

And he had. Or at least he had tried. When Raphael had announced the apocalypse he had stood up and said No. And others had followed him standing by his side, fighting for free will. None of them had known what it even meant. But they had followed him anyway, against Raphael. They had trusted him to be their leader. Him, the only angel to understand free will.


But now he noticed that he hadn’t understood it either. He had fought for it. But had it been the right way? A civil war in heaven? An alliance with the King of hell? Betraying his friends? Even if it had been the safest for them? Destroying Sam’s wall, to distract his friends?

No. He noticed.


But where had he gone wrong? What choice had been the wrong? What should he had done better? What would he do better, if given a second chance? What would have been the right way?

He tried to chase those thoughts away. They wouldn’t be of much use anyway. Because he had started a civil war. He had worked with the king of hell. He had betrayed his friends. He had destroyed Sam’s wall. He had absorbed the soul of purgatory and he had killed- no slaughtered- more than half of heaven’s angels. All who hadn’t been with him. Raphael’s closest followers, angels who just followed our of fear and even those who had chosen no side at all. He had killed them all.


He had tried so hard to do the right thing, but had failed. And now he was literally knee-deep in the blood of his siblings. Kneeling in the middle of his favorite heaven surrounded by the corpses of his brothers and sisters. He asked himself:

What had I become? What am I? I am no soldier of god. No soldier of heaven. No protector of Earth or humanity (as even those had suffered under him). No protector of heaven. No protector of free will.

He was a kinslayer. A monster… a god. And as a such he asked himself, was there still hope to right my sins?

What would I do, if given a second chance?

The thought crossed his mind again, but this time he knew what to do. He spread his wings and took flight with one mighty flap.





His first stop was Bobby’s house. It was nighttime, meaning that all occupants of the house were asleep, just as expected. Bobby was sleeping over a few books he had been reading. Sam on the couch with a book himself on his chest while Dean slept at the desk in the kitchen several empty bottles in front of him and one still in his right hand.

Cas scowled at the scene before him. Those were his friends and they were hurt because of his mistakes. ‘Cause no matter how good his intention had been, he now knew he had still wronged so many. Humanity. His Brethren. His followers as well as rivals. And worst of all, his friends. His family. Sam and Dean and Bobby.

He lied his hand on Dean’s shoulder and whispered “I’ll right my wrongs, Dean. I promise.” He then went off to search the house for the things he needed.


He took one of their duffle bags and put in some holy oil, ruby’s knife and recipe for the Colt’s bullets. Finding the last was rather hard, but he did eventually, near dawn. 

Cas was ready to take of when he heard a groan next to him.


The hunter opened his eyes but squeezed them shut again when greeted by a haaedache.


"Damm head." Dean muttered to himself stumbling over to the fridge for a beer. Yet the Winchester hadn’t noticed  his angelic friend standing at his side watching with pitty and regret.

Dean pulled out a beer and opened it with practiced ease, letting the cap drop to the floor, where more of it’s kind had been abandoned earlier this week.


"Hello, Dean." Castiel greeted with his usual monotonous voice, making his presence known to the human.

He in turn, faced him imediately. Tired eyes, filled with anger and despair stareing directly into his, ocean blue one's.

"What the fuck do you want!?" The hunter asked, sluring a bit at the due to the alkohol he had been drinking massively in the past few month.


"I now know that I made mistakes, Dean. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for what I did, before I go." He explained already picking up the duffle bag, to take off.


The hunter’s features imediately softened. "Wait, Cas." The Righteous man cried out nearly panicing, but grapping his friend’s trench coat in time anyway.

"Where are you going?" He asked, afraid- although he wouldn’t admit it out loud- to lose his friend again. Yes, he had turned on them. He had endangered Lisa and Ben and Sam and Bobby. He had chose a demon’s side over theirs, but in this very moment he had the hope- although he had no idea were it had come from- that if given enough time Cas could find back to the angelic, but also so human, friend they had come used to calling family. This adorable trench coated angel they had learned to love.

Or more important, the angel that pulled him out of hell. The angel he had learned to love.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to decide wheter to kiss the angel and ruin their friendship or not. In the end the part of his brain that was still half drunk won and he graped the collar of the tan coat pulling his friend close and only seconds later their lips colided.


He regreted it imediately, when Cas's eyes widened in suprise. But Castiel,  angel of the Lord (a Virgin! ), didn’t return the kiss. 

Or at least not for the frst seconds he needed to recovered from the shock.

"Oh, my- oh, my god! I- I- I'm- sorry Cas- I didn't -didn’t meant t-to- I didn't think- I-I-" Dean had already pulled away trying to explain his stupidity, when Cas sudendly pressed his lips on Dean's soft ones, silenting the hunter effectively.

This time it was Dean moanining wideeyed, from suprise into the kiss. One hand already in the angel's messy hair, the other trying to put the beer, he had opened earlier, aside.

The second hand folowed the first, as soon as the beer had been put aside, graping a fist ful of dark messy hair, while trying to pull his best friend even closer.


He groaned in pleasant suprise when Castiel pulled him closer by his ass. His right hand abandoned Cas's hair in favor of tracing his features, wandering from his face to his hip, earning a happy moan from the angel when slapping his rear.

Dean made a happily suprised moan himself when he was lifted of the floor. And pressed even more into his angel by the wall his back colided with.


The black hair pulled away from Dean's lips, giving him time to get some air, the hunter had nearly forgotten he needed, and continued with kissing his neck instead.

He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to catch his breath between exited noises. By now he could feel his pants tighten around his cock, while feeling the growing bump of his opposite rub against it, despite the multiple layers of cloth between them.


A deep moan escaped Dean’s mouth when Cas's lips colided with his collar bone. "Cas...Cas...upstairs...bed room." He breathed between loud moans from both, him and Cas, remembering that just next door his brother and his adoptive father were still asleep. 


And considering that hunters tend to have a lighter sleep they wouldn’t be for much longer, if he hand cas kept getting louder.


 One flap of wings later both men were an floor higher, in the same position as before, but now moanining even louder. And despite the flight Dean couldn’t feel the nausea that tendend to come along whenever going by angel taxi. 

With an gesture of his hand Cas locked the room and then strange couple freed themselves from their various layers of clothes before they sank into the throes of fiery angelic passion.







"I'll fix everything, Dean. I promise." He said placing a resuring hand on the sleeping hunter's left shoulder, covering the mark he once had left behind.


He would love to stay, especially now. But he knew, tha Dean would never be happy if didn’t fix this.

It didn’t matter if Dean would be able to forgive him or not.

Sam would sufer, from hell's memories, no matter what, and Dean would suffer with him.


And now more than ever he couldn’t bear the thought of either brother hurting because of him. Most of all he couldn’t watch Dean in pain, even if only emotional one.


He placed one last kiss on Dean’s temple before he shouldered the bag and took flight.




He visited different place all around the World collecting ingredients for various spells, hex bags and sigils he had learned over the last year. Partly from Crowley and partly from warding himself and his people off if Raphael or at least off of his eyes and ears. It was sunset when he had finally gathered everything needed.

He flew back to Bobby’s once more to look at his friends, his family. Then he took of.


A few minutes later, but years prior he landed in the year 2006, what meant he had five years left before anybody would even notice anything. And five hours left before John Winchester would make the deal with the demon.




He was standing in the corner of Dean’s room, invisible to the humans’ eyes, watching the two brother talk. Both looked incredibly young and full of life not yet worn out from the apocalypse.

He had spent the earlier five hours with planning and preparing his incoming deeds.

He needed to stop the demon’s plan.

This he could only accomplish by keeping all tree Winchesters alive, to ensure none would make a deal for the other, to keep the righteous man out of hell. And most importantly to keep him from breaking the first seal.

Beside that the gates of hell mustn’t be opened. And the release of Lilith had to be stopped with all means.

To do so he would have to kill Azazel, otherwise the demon would find only find other ways to free her and set of the apocalypse.

And if not hell, heaven would find a way. Meaning that Castiel had to act as subtle as possible and change only little details, enough to prevent the apocalypse but not enough to wake heaven’s suspicion. The host had to believe that everything was happening according to plan and no angel or demon could ever find out what he was.

He had thought about how exactly he’d do that and had planed to ward himself off from all supernatural senses, as soon has his deeds at the hospital were done and the Winchesters were save for the time being. And for exactly that he had added a few items for protection to the duffle bag of the oldest Winchester, sitting on his bed. He watched same Winchester enter the room. He silent listened to the oldest and youngest argument, which was, judging from Dean’s behavior, hardly a rarity.


Sam soon walked out of the door, obviously, even for him, mad at his Dad. The later left shortly afterwards. Cas too flew out of the room after sending Dean into a restful slumber.




“Demons. They must have noticed something is wrong.” And then he was gone.

Well, at least partly. He was still there theoretically but from the human point of view he vanished completely.

He watched the Winchesters fill out of the room and was about to leave himself to prevent any supernatural being (mostly Dean’s reaper, incoming demons now, too) from seeing or even worse sensing him before he had the opportunity to set up any wards.


But just then the reaper appeared directly in front of him. Tessa.




He didn’t knew her well, but well enough to know her to have a good and loyal heart.


“Hello, Tessa.” He greeted. “Oh, awesome you know my name.” She was unimpressed, well mostly. “So who exactly do you think you are, to mess with the natural order?” She asked, crossing her arms un anoyance. “They call me Cas.” He stated.

“Well that is rather undescriptive. What I actually would like to know is: What are you?” she took a slight step forward to get a better look at his physical body, which definitely wasn’t his own. Well-built and handsome, but rather small with black hair and blue eyes, dressed in suit and trench coat. All in all good looking but not what interested her.

That what she was looking for was lying behind the facet of a human body, borrowed or not. She took a glance at the spot  where a human’s soul, the fragments of a demon’s or the grace of an angel would be.

Neither was the case, where the shining and nearly blending light of an angels grace or a human’s soul should be was empty.

No, not empty. Deep black ink, she noticed. She could still recognize a faint shine of a soul (or grace, although she herself thought it rather unlikely. For the simplest reason that those idiots haven’t left heaven for about two thousand years. Why would they now?) drowning in a pitch-black abyss quite similar to a demon’s smoke except for it to be some kind of liquid. She was shocked to say the least. The Black ocean inside her opposite was erupting with hundreds of waves every now and then, each bigger than the last. And despite neither form nor color she couldn’t stop thinking of them as abominations.

“What are you?” she heard herself say. “Are you some kind of high-leveled demon or something like that?” she asked more precise when the might-be-a-demon remained silent. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her with an indifferent bird-look, before moving.

She automatically took a step back for each he made towards her until she ran out of space with the wall in her back. Their bodies were now nearly touching and although she earlier had thought of him as rather small he was now looming over her. And even though she would never admit it aloud she was scared when it spoke again.

“Yes, something like that.” It whispered it in her ear. It took her a while to put it in context to her earlier question but in the end she managed. And when the demon leaned back again it had one of death’s scythes in his now raised hand “I also am one of the few people who have one of these.” He said twisting it in his hand. “A...old business partner gave it to me.” He said referring to the early days of his partnership with Crowley.


(The demon had tried to receive information of purgatory’s whereabouts by torturing reapers. Simultaneously he had tried to teach Castiel some interrogation and torturing methods. Which had been hard for both of them considering the angel’s stern behavior. But he had learned eventually and had been quite good at it, according to Crowley.)

“What do you want? Why are you interfering with the natural order?!” she asked. And although her voice was steadier than before, they both new she was terrified down to her core.

“It’s simple” he made a step back to give her a bit more space “I’m not interfering. The natural order of death and life involves the death by natural, magical or supernatural cause but can be avoided by magical or unnatural means, such as Deals. And Dean Winchester’s life has been saved by a such, made by his father with me. Therefore the resurrection of the Winchester is no interference in your work.” She answered something (probably arguing that deals weren’t part of the natural order), but he ignored her in favor of listening to the angel radio.


The angels themselves rarely ever spoke back in this time. But still there had never been silence, too. But the less angels spoke the louder prayer were heard. Castiel himself had learned a long time ago how to ignore the desperate pleads and prayers.

And now just as always they were buzzing in his head, but there was a single one that was louder than all the others. More desperate than all the others and more sincere than he had ever heard a prayer be.


Save Dean Winchester


It was Sam and knowing the brothers, they plus their father were likely to have gotten themselves in another demon fight or something like that.

“We’re done.” He told Tessa and took of.