Sarcasm or Suckage

Dean ignored Sam’s pissy face as he reached into the trunk for a shotgun.

“Salt will not get rid of this ghost, Dean,” Sam repeated for about the gazillionth time as Dean tucked his 9mm into his waistband, proud of the fact that he hadn’t flipped Sam off.

“Salt gets all ghosts, Sammy,” Dean told him and strode into the dark house. Sam made some sort of constipated sound behind him before following him. Sammy could always be counted on to follow him.

The ghost was an old one, dug into the walls and floors of the house. Bobby had asked Sam and Dean to check it out for a friend before she bought it. Dean wondered just how close this friend was and then flinched; thinking about Bobby with a woman was like imagining his parents having sex and just no…no…no.

The ghost was suddenly in his face, ice-cold and screaming. Dean lifted the shotgun, pumped the spectre full of salt and then gaped when it laughed at him. As it sent him flying through the air he swore that he would kick Sam’s ass if he even hinted at saying ‘I told you so’.

He shook his head to dissipate the ringing in his ears. The smell of smoke caught his attention and he looked over to see Sam with a burning picture frame. He knew Sam would be bitching at him forever. “Lucky guess!” he yelled.

The sound of the ghost’s wails was music to Dean’s ear and he watched in satisfaction as the entity exploded into a million tiny pieces of ectoplasm and went wherever it was that evil ghosts went.

He grunted when Sam came over and hauled him to his feet. “I guess my distraction worked then huh?” he grinned at Sam who rolled his eyes.

“You’re a moron,” Sam informed him.

“I’m awesome,” Dean agreed. They headed out into the night and Dean called Bobby. “It’s done,” he said, not bothering with niceties.

“You two idjits still alive then?” Bobby asked and Dean knew that he said it with love.

“Sammy got the easy job,” Dean told him and ignored Sam’s snort. “I took one for the team.”

“My hero,” Bobby said and now, Dean was almost sure he was being sarcastic. “You’d better come on home now.”

Dean smiled to himself. Bobby’s place was as close to a home base he and Sam had ever had and home sounded really good after these last few months. “Yeah,” he said, “we’re on our way.” He ended the call and tossed the shotgun into the truck.

Sam glared at him and then went to put the gun in its proper place. Dean pulled two beers out of the cooler, tossed one to Sam and toasted him. “To a job well done, Sammy.”

Sam popped the top and took a deep gulp. “To not getting killed, Dean.”

Dean drank deeply and ignored Sam’s pinched expression. “All under control and carefully planned,” he said and smacked his lips. God, beer was like the nectar of the gods.

“Sure,” Sam said and Dean was totally sure he was being sarcastic.

“Bobby said we should head back home,” Dean told him when he’d finished the last of his beer.

Sam nodded and being the good little environmentally aware nerd-boy that he was, took their bottles and put them back into the cooler. “Let’s get going then,” he said and levered his long frame into the passenger’s seat.

Dean started the Impala and pointed her towards Bobby’s.

And Dean didn’t think about Cas.

********************************

Bobby was asleep by the time they arrived. Dean just nodded a goodnight to Sam as they headed for the rooms that they’d always considered theirs.

Dean toed off his boots and debated having a shower. He lifted an arm and smelled his armpit experimentally, lip curling at the smell of day-old sweat. He headed for the bathroom, shucking his shirt and jeans before putting the shower on. He thought again about fixing up the bathroom, installing one of those decadent rainfall showerheads that made him want to promise things to anyone who would just let him wallow beneath it for a while.

He closed his eyes and leaned a hand against the cold tiles, the hot water washing away the hunt and the sweat and the tension, leaving a slow lassitude in its place that made his eyes close.

He allowed himself to enjoy the heat for a minute or so, relish the sense of his muscles loosening, relaxing for the first time in days. He grabbed the soap and started scrubbing at his skin, loving the sensation of the hunt draining away. He gave his dick a lazy stroke and patted it absently when the bone-deep exhaustion allowed it only to give a small twitch.

He switched off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth, looking at himself in the mirror. He’d collected a few new scars to replace the ones that had vanished on his return from Hell. He flat-out ignored the handprint on his shoulder.

He went back to his room, dried himself off and pulled on a pair of boxers before he tumbled onto the bed, tugged the comforter up to his chest and folded his arms across the top of it. He watched the moonlight paint shadows on the ceiling, eyes burning a little from the sheer exhaustion of the day and then eventually let his lids drop, shutting out the last bit of light.

And Dean didn’t think about Cas.

********************************

He dreamed the same thing every night. Castiel standing in front of him, Sam and Bobby, his deep blue eyes remote and terrible and pronouncing, “I am your new god, a better one. You will worship me or be destroyed.”

Dean woke up every night gasping, face wet with tears and heart aching in his chest.

He remembered Cas telling them that he had no family and it made something inside him hurt.

He closed his eyes again, willing the memories away but for whatever reason, tonight they wouldn’t be ignored. He remembered their flight from Cas and his army as well as Sam’s long, excruciatingly painful road to recovery and he ached.

It had been months since they’d last seen Castiel. Months since Sam had fought to stay sane. Most of the time Sam had sat in one place, eyes glassy and staring, mouth open in a silent scream. Dean had taken a couple of odd jobs but couldn’t bring himself to stay away from Sam for too long.

Help had come via an unexpected source.

Death came calling.

Skin cadaver tight across those sharp cheekbones, Death had looked at Sam - silent, shaking Sam - and sighed. “I can see that you scratched the wall, Sam.”

Dean hadn’t let that one stand. “Angel, Castiel…” he’d said and it had been all that was needed.

Death had looked at him then, eyes pitiless and cold. “And I should help you once more because..?” and he’d let the question taper off as though he knew Dean could offer nothing in exchange.

“You put the wall up once,” Dean had said desperately. “Can you do it again?”

Death’s head was shaking before he’d even finished asked the question. “No, Dean, I warned you.”

“But he didn’t scratch it!” Dean had protested. “It was ripped away from him and he didn’t have a choice.” His gaze had gone to Sam who’d looked up at them with wild eyes. “Please,” Dean had begged.

Death had wrapped both hands around the silver wolf’s head handle of his walking stick and considered them both. “I’ve done more to help you two than I have for all of humanity in my previous existence,” he’d said idly, long fingers flexing on the handle.

“Just one more thing, please,” Dean had asked and his eyes had filled with tears that he would deny to his dying day.

“Because it wasn’t his choice,” Death had said. He’d stood then and walked over to Sam who hadn’t moved, his mouth tight and shoulders tense. “Take a deep breath, Sam,” Death had instructed and put his hand on Sam’s forehead.

For a moment Dean had seen nothing and then he’d seen a silver light shine from beneath Death’s hand. Sam’s head had gone back and his body had bowed out and the noise that had seemed ripped from his throat had sounded human. A moment later Sam’s eyes had closed and he’d slumped forward in his chair.

“What did you do?” Dean had asked once Death had stepped back.

“I could not replace the wall,” Death had told Dean as he started pulling on his gloves. “What I did was make the memory of his time in Hell feel like a dream.” Dean had wanted to ask more but had shut his mouth when Death had turned that pitiless gaze on him again. “This will be the last time you see me on this side of the veil, Dean Winchester.”

“Thank you,” Dean had said and Death had vanished as silently as he’d arrived.

Sam had slept for almost a day until he’d opened his eyes and had been better. They’d talked about the ‘memories’ of Hell. Dean had eventually told Sam that he was going to charge him shrink fees but he’d been so happy to see Sam almost well again.

“Cas promised that he’d come back and make it right with me,” Sam had said once, voice soft and unbearably sad.

“Cas said a lot of things,” Dean had growled, jaw tight with anger. “Cas lied. Angels are dicks and they all lie.”

“You should call him,” Sam had said, “try to fix things.”

He’d punched Sam and walked away. Cas wasn’t mentioned again.

The world went on. Demons still possessed people, vampires still drank blood, ghosts still haunted houses and the Winchesters still hunted them all.

The only thing that seemed to change was that there were no more angels around. Not that Dean had a clue how to find out if they were.

Balthazar and Raphael were dead. Michael and Lucifer were in the cage. Castiel was the new god in heaven. All seemed right with the world.

Except it wasn’t. There were still wars and earthquakes, pestilences and tsunamis. There were still werewolves, witches and wendigos. There were still attacks, murders and disappearances.

And Dean didn’t think about Cas.

********************************

A year after Castiel became the new god; he looked down from Heaven and saw the human race scurrying around on earth. Something twisted inside, a memory of being there on that dusty planet, living among them. The memory of it was like a cloud though; it kept moving away, just staying out of reach.

There was something there - a recollection of green eyes and freckled skin, of laughter and tears, of love. Castiel stretched out to grab the memory but it would not be caught.

He looked around and saw his children, the angels, kneeling before his throne and was dissatisfied. This wasn’t how he’d expected things to be. They were terrified of him, cowing before him and worshiping him through fear and not love.

He frowned. There was that word again. Love. He was God, he had no need of love, only obedience and yet...

“Did you want me to get you anything, Lord?” Heman bowed to him and Castiel saw that his eyes were frightened.

“No,” Castiel murmured and turned his gaze back down to the earth. “I have a question for you though.”

“Yes Lord?” Heman kept his face downcast, making Castiel sigh.

“Do you love me?” he asked and watched Heman’s face closely.

“Of course I do, Lord,” Heman assured him but the quiver in his tone said he spoke untruth.

“Did you love me before I was God?” Castiel asked.

This time Heman’s gaze flashed up and he appeared confused. “Lord?”

“Before, when I was just Castiel, your brother, did you love me?”

Heman opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again. “You may speak your truth,” Castiel assured him. “Whatever you say will be treated as confession and there will be no punishment.”

Heman took a breath. “When you were merely one of us, you were not the most loved of all the brethren,” he admitted. “Your love for men, Dean Winchester in particular, made you weak and vulnerable.”

Dean The elusive memory took shape then and a face coalesced in his mind. Beautiful beyond all bearing, grass green eyes, curved and laughing mouth. Dean

“I loved this human?” Castiel asked, his mind still focused on the face of the man in his memory.

“More than all of us,” Heman affirmed.

“More than God?” Castiel asked and his voice was dry and terrible.

Heman flinched. “More than anything.” His eyes dropped again. “We thought you would give up your immortality to be with him but instead you chose to return to Heaven and give us a god to worship once more.”

Castiel wondered about that. He wondered what had made him choose to leave this human whom he loved. “Why did I deny him?” He can’t remember life before being the new god.

“I do not know, Lord,” Heman admitted.

“I should go to him,” Castiel said.

“Lord?” Heman appeared confused. “You would go down to the realm of mortals?”

Castiel nodded, and his focus was on the face in his memory. “I would know this man, this Dean Winchester.”

“But you’re God,” Heman protested. “You know all!”

“I’m not the Almighty,” Castiel chided. “I am still a young god and must still learn much. I am not all-seeing, all-knowing.” He felt his mouth curve in a smile for the first time in a very long time. “Not yet, anyway.”

His gaze turned back to the earth. “Tell me about Dean Winchester,” he ordered.

Heman went pale. “Lord, I’m not sure…”

Castiel just looked at him, mild and terrible and Heman bowed. “He is a hunter, Lord.”

There was a flash in Castiel’s mind and a memory of the man with green eyes reciting the incantation to expel a demon. “His Latin is poor,” he murmured and then waved Heman to continue.

“He and his brother Sam come from a line of hunters,” Heman told him.

Again, a flash of memory and he saw himself touching his hand to the forehead of a tall man. The man crumpled to his feet and Castiel’s gaze met that of Dean’s. “I will return and heal Sam when everything is over,” he told Dean before he left.

“I did not keep my word to him,” Castiel noted. There was a twinge of something deep within him. Something that felt suspiciously like guilt.

“You are God,” Heman pointed out. “You answer to no one.”

Castiel shook his head. “We all answer to someone, Heman, even I.”

“But you’re God,” Heman repeated.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed and there was another memory. This time the man Dean was begging him to give up the souls that he’d received from Purgatory. “I have no family,” that Castiel told Dean and there was regret in his voice.

“Please, Cas,” Dean had begged and his eyes were glassy with sorrow.

“I am your new god, a better one,” Castiel had told him, ignoring the plea. “You will worship me or be destroyed.”

The memory faded and Castiel looked at Heman. “I have not behaved as God should,” he admitted and yes, that emotion eating at him was guilt.

“What can I do to aid you, Lord?” Heman asked and it made Castiel grateful for this one angel who had been afraid of him but somehow had learned to speak truth when needed.

“I must go to him,” Castiel said. “I must make amends.”

Heman appeared doubtful. “He has not prayed in a very long time, Lord.” His eyes were troubled. “I do not think that he believes in you.”

Castiel sighed. “He believes in who I was and not in who I am,” he told Heman. “I have caused great harm to his soul.”

“Do you wish me to procure you a vessel?” Heman didn’t continue trying to dissuade him from his course.

Castiel shook his head. “I will take the form of the mortal who bore my essence when I was an angel,” he said. “Dean will know who I am.”

“Will he forgive you?” Heman cut straight to the heart of what was worrying Castiel.

“He must, or I am not the god I should be,” Castiel said and took his first step towards redemption.

And Castiel thought only of Dean.

********************************

Dean watched Sam exorcise the demon. The black smoke poured out of the kid’s mouth and punched through the ceiling.

He knelt down beside the boy and felt for a pulse. His mouth tightened when he couldn’t find anything and he shook his head at Sam.

“Fuck,” Sam said, his shoulders slumped.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. He hoisted the body up into a fireman’s carry and went outside. The fire was blazing and he and Sam swung the body onto the pyre, sending sparks scattering.

“That’s the fourth lot we’ve found in a month,” Sam said, his mouth tight.

“Something’s going on,” Dean agreed and he scanned the horizon. “I just don’t know what.”

Sam’s phone rang. “Hey Bobby,” he greeted and went pale. “What the hell?” Bobby was obviously really excited about whatever the hell it was he was talking about because Dean could hear him shouting through the phone and Sam kept trying to interrupt with questions. Dean waited impatiently.

When Sam dropped the call, he was even paler. “What the fuck was that about?” Dean demanded.

“Cas is at Bobby’s,” Sam said.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked but he was heading for the Impala before he’d finished talking.

Sam slid into the passenger seat and Dean peeled off, tires burning as he hit the accelerator. “Tell me what he said,” Dean ordered.

Sam took a breath. “He said something about Cas showing up and asking for you and then Bobby told him to fuck off because he wasn’t killing you and then, god,” Sam rubbed at his eyes.

“What?” Dean asked, flicking a glance over to his brother.

“He said Cas asked for his forgiveness.” Sam’s eyes were wide as they met his.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed and there was just a small ounce of hope that flickered deep within him, a hope that his friend had returned to him. “Did Bobby say whether he was still all ‘Godstiel’ on us?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Sam shook his head. “He didn’t want to say anything more, just told us to get home as quickly as possible. Oh and he brought a date.” Sam shook his head when Dean stared at him. “Bobby’s words, not mine, dude.”

Dean decided to focus on the job at hand and mentally calculated the distance to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. “We’ll be there before morning,” he told Sam.

“Wake me in four hours, I’ll take the next shift,” Sam said and closed his eyes.

Dean watched the scenery flashing by as he floored it. He didn’t even want to guess what had prompted Castiel to show up now. It could only be bad news.

He looked over at Sam and felt the familiar anger rise up at the memory of his brother’s struggle to stay sane thanks to Castiel. He didn’t know if there was anything Cas could say, any apology or explanation that would be good enough for Dean.

Sam made a noise in his sleep and turned his face to the window, shoulders hunching as though avoiding a blow. Dean reached out and put his hand on Sam’s leg. He left it there, only moving it when Sam curled up and lay down, cheek smashed against Dean’s thigh. Then Dean’s fingers went to the soft hair and he rested his palm on Sam’s head.

He didn’t wake him up.

********************************

Castiel asked Bobby whether he should go and fetch the Winchesters. Bobby glared at him. “You let them get here on their own steam,” he ordered. “You’ve done enough interfering.”

Castiel felt an urge to smite something but he kept his counsel, looking at Mihr. He’d decided that one attendant would be sufficient and had brought the angel of mercy with him. Mihr had never been to earth, spending all of her time in the holy of holies, extending mercies to those granted.

“Paper feels different to what I expected,” she said and her eyes were wide as she stroked a palm across a page of one of Bobby’s books.

Castiel looked out of the window, waiting for the sound of an approaching car. “Being on the mortal plane is an experience every angel should have at least once.” He was distracted though and turned to Bobby. “Where are they?”

His memories had come flooding back as though a wall had crashed down. He couldn’t understand why now or how he’d forgotten Bobby and Sam and Dean. Dean

“On their way,” Bobby said from his seat at the desk. He had been working his way steadily though a bottle of Johnny Walker. “Take a seat,” he indicated a worn sofa. “You’re making me nervous.”

Castiel looked at him, confused. “Why would I make you nervous?” he asked. “I am here to make amends.”

Bobby snorted. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you, Cas,” he said and tossed back the shot of whiskey. “The last time I saw you, you were a little terrifying.”

“I made a mistake in threatening you,” Castiel admitted. “God should be loved despite fear not because of it.”

Bobby shook his head, watching Mihr. “Yeah, well, the experiences we’ve had with angels haven’t exactly inspired trust.”

Mihr drifted over to the fridge, opened the door and peered inside. “Food!” she exclaimed and Castiel sighed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought an untried angel with him.

Bobby hadn’t taken his eyes off him. All night. “I still don’t get it,” Bobby said and poured himself another shot. Castiel wanted to chide him for drinking so much but he supposed that he’d lost the right to say anything to Bobby a long time ago.

“What is it you are still questioning?” Castiel asked. He’d remembered things more clearly and the thing that shamed him the most was his deal with Crowley. That an angel of the Lord would make a deal with the King of Hell still made him shudder.

“Why now?” Bobby asked and took another sip. “Why are you here now?”

Castiel watched Mihr pull out a jug of milk and pour herself a glass. Her delight in the taste was obvious as she closed her eyes and made a small noise of pleasure. “I’m not sure,” he admitted and turned back to Bobby. “Something made me remember what had happened with you and Sam and Dean.” Once more Castiel saw green eyes in his mind and the terrible sorrow in them made him flinch.

“So you forgot us?” Bobby watched him carefully.

“It would seem so, yes,” Castiel nodded.

“What made you start remembering again?” Bobby’s gaze never left him.

“I don’t know.” And this what made Castiel uncomfortable. The fact that he was remembering his life as an angel was a source of confusion.

“Hmm,” Bobby didn’t say anything more and just drank his whiskey.

The low growl of a car made them all look up. Dean Castiel wasn’t sure why, but his mortal form reacted in a way that was most peculiar. He could feel his heart beating faster and the palms of his hands getting damp; he just could not understand what was happening to him.

The engine cut off, car doors slammed and the front door opened. Castiel watched the two men coming into the sitting room and something inside him clicked into place when he met stormy green eyes.

Dean.

********************************

Dean looked at Bobby first, just wanting to make sure that he was okay and he only turned his gaze to Castiel once he’d received a nod from Bobby. He decided to let Castiel be the first to speak. He probably should have told Sam to play it cool.

“Hey Cas,” Sam went up to him and stood there, obviously almost ready to throw his arms around him. Dean wanted to shake his little brother. Seriously, what genetic fuck-up had happened to give him a baby brother who for-fucking-gave everyone. No matter that they’d been the one who had sent him straight into Crazy Town.

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice was the same - deep, rough - and Dean felt the recognition of him resound deep into his bones. “You appear well.”

Sam finally remembered Dean and looked over at him helplessly. “I…” and then Cas reached out and touched his forehead. Sam went rigid and Dean hurtled forward, ready to shove Sam out of harm’s way.

“Death has been here,” Castiel noted and Dean grabbed Sam’s arm, pulled him back and behind him.

“Keep your fucking hands off him,” Dean hissed, all the resentment and anger that had been building over the past year bubbling up to the surface. “You almost killed him, you fucking shit excuse for an angel.” He was furious and the words shot out of him like bullets of rage. “You tore down the wall so that we wouldn’t come after you and left Sam to go mad or die.”

Castiel looked at him and Dean refused to see the sadness in the deep blue eyes. “I made a mistake,” Castiel admitted and a gasp from the kitchen made Dean look over. The woman standing there was stunning. She had long sable brown hair and big golden eyes and she looked about twenty-five.

“You should not speak to our Lord in that way,” she chided and came towards them.

Dean’s mouth tightened and he glared at Castiel. “You brought a fucking bodyguard with you?” he asked incredulously.

Castiel held out a hand to the woman. “It is alright, Mihr,” he assured her. “This is just their way.”

Sam met Dean’s eyes and shrugged.

“Send her away,” Dean demanded. “She’s not part of this.”

Mihr opened her mouth to protest and Castiel shook his head. “I think perhaps it would be best if you leave.”

“You should not take orders from humans,” she told him.

Castiel looked at Dean and something in that exchange of glances gave Dean the first glimmer of hope that he’d felt in what seemed like forever. “These humans are different,” he told her and pointed to Sam. “This was Lucifer’s vessel.” Her eyes went wide and Castiel pointed to Dean, “and this was Michael’s.”

Mihr looked between them and Dean could practically see her mind working. “But Michael and Lucifer are still in the cage and they are here?”

Dean frowned. “How much did Heaven know about what was going on down here?” he asked.

Castiel took a deep breath and his reply was like a gut punch. “I removed most of the memories of that battle from the minds of the angels,” he confessed.

“You made them forget?” he asked and he didn’t even want to imagine the kind of power that involved.

“Yes,” Castiel said and he touched Mihr’s cheek. “I didn’t want them to remember the fact that we were fighting against one another.”

“Do they even remember the old god?” Sam asked and Dean wanted to cheer his little brother on when he heard the edge in his voice.

Mihr appeared puzzled. “I don’t understand,” she said and Dean could see the confusion in her face.

“I know,” Castiel said. He pressed two fingers to her forehead and she vanished.

Dean’s lip curled. “So you’ve ruled by lying to them all,” he noted and all the disgust he felt was in his voice. “Good to see that nothing’s changed.”

Castiel’s face was a blank slate and Dean remembered his first encounters with the angel. This was the Castiel who had pulled him out of Hell, emotionless, cold and uncaring. “I am here because I made mistakes. I need to make amends to you and Sam,” he said and his voice was winter-ice.

“Why bother?” Dean scoffed and went over to Bobby to help himself to a shot of whiskey. He met Bobby’s eyes and for a moment allowed all his confusion to show.

“I don’t know,” Castiel declared. “I just had to.”

Dean tossed the shot back, hissed in the burn of the alcohol and turned back to Castiel. “What do you want from us?”

Castiel looked at Sam. “I would heal him completely if you would let me.” He frowned. “Death merely patched over the wound, I want to make it disappear.”

“Why?” Sam asked and Dean finally heard the anger that should have made Sam punch Castiel’s lights out at first sight. “I’m fine, no thanks to you.”

Dean was watching Castiel intently and he saw the barely visible flinch. “I promised that I would come back and save you.” Castiel appeared completely sincere and Dean found that he wanted to believe him, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“No thanks,” Sam dismissed him and went to get a beer from the fridge. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

Castiel’s sigh was a breeze that shivered through the room. Dean felt it cut right through him and it burned with cold. “I understand your reluctance to believe or trust my motives.” He took a step towards Sam and Dean made a noise of protest. Castiel stopped and stared at Dean. “I won’t harm him,” he said and Dean could swear that there was hurt in those dark blue eyes.

“You can’t blame them for not trusting you, Castiel,” Bobby’s words startled them all and they looked over at him. “You lied to us, betrayed us, threatened us and ultimately deserted us.”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “But I did it because I thought it was for the best for everyone.”

“No,” Dean asserted and his throat felt raw. “You did it for yourself, for power.”

“No,” Castiel refuted and he moved towards Dean until he was standing well into his personal space. “I did it for you.”

Dean wanted to protest, to deny but the absolute honesty in Castiel’s face was proof of the truth of his words. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

“You always wanted everything from me,” Castiel said and his eyes were dark pools of eternity.

Dean’s entire body was shaking. “Stop,” he whispered and barely recognised his own voice.

Castiel raised a hand and ran the back of it down Dean’s cheek. “I forgot how you make me feel,” he murmured and the words resonated deep inside Dean.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty picture?” The caustic tone broke into the too-quiet room and Dean just knew who it was.

“Crowley,” Castiel’s face changed and his eyes narrowed.

“Hello there, Cas,” Crowley’s eyes were hard and in complete contrast to his voice. “Or should I say, Judas?”

Sam made a noise and Dean looked over at him. His brother’s face was pale and he was sweating heavily. “Sammy?” Dean asked, taking a step towards him.

“I feel…” Sam’s eyes were terrified as he looked over at Dean. “Dean,” and he dropped to the floor. Dean and Bobby were at his side a second later, turning him over.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Dean snarled at the two non-humans in the room.

“I didn’t do anything,” Castiel replied and he stared at Crowley.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” the King of Hell put his hands up. “I’m not here to mess with you boys. I’m here to clear the air with our friend, the Great Betrayer.” His smile was all teeth.

“Then who did this?” Dean demanded, pushing Sam’s hair away from his forehead.

“I did,” a new voice answered him and all eyes went to the corner of the room. A man in a white suit sat in the big armchair, smiling at them.

“Chuck?” Dean asked.

Chuck saluted him with two fingers. “Good to see you again, Dean.” He got up and walked over to them. “Sam,” His face was sombre as He looked down at Sam. “What a mess,” He sighed. He crouched down and put a hand on Sam’s face.

Sam groaned and whimpered and then his eyes opened. “Chuck?” he asked.

The author of the ‘Supernatural’ series of books and former prophet of the Lord smiled at him. “Feel better?” He asked and offered Sam a hand.

Sam nodded, took Chuck’s hand and got to his feet. “It’s all gone,” he marvelled. “Even the faint dream echoes.” Something in Sam’s voice gave Dean the first glimmer of hope he’d had in a very long time.

“I’m sorry for what my children have put you through,” Chuck said and Dean stared.

“Your children?” The inflection was exactly the same in both Dean and Sam’s voices as they asked the same question at the same time.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” Crowley demanded and Chuck turned slowly to face him. Dean never wanted that particular expression directed at him.

“Crowley,” Chuck greeted him and Dean watched Crowley go white.

The King of Hell dropped to the floor, forehead pressed to the ground. “I’m so sorry,” Crowley sounded terrified. “I didn’t recognise you.”

Dean stared at Crowley. This was the first time he’d ever seen Crowley afraid. “Okay, what the fuck is the deal with ...?”

Castiel knelt down. “My Lord,” he lowered his gaze. “We thought you had forsaken us.”

“My Lord?” Bobby gaped at Chuck. “What is he talking about, Chuck?”

Chuck smiled and Dean saw that His eyes were like windows into the universe; looking into them was like staring into an ocean of stars. “I may have misled you about exactly who I am,” he said.

“You’re a prophet,” Sam rubbed his head, trying to erase an ache that no longer existed.

“I’m the prophet,” Chuck told him and His mouth quirked in a wry grin.

“I don’t understand,” Sam said.

“He’s my father,” Castiel stood and there was something resigned about the set of his shoulders.

“And mine,” Crowley added. He stayed down, not looking up at anyone. Dean wanted to kiss Chuck, if only for the fact that he’d made Crowley piss his pants.

“Get up, demon,” Chuck ordered and Crowley stood, keeping his eyes lowered.

“Your father?” Dean asked and he looked between the three of them. “Does that make you…?”

“God?” Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Indeed it does, my son.” He held up His hands as though warding Dean off. “Well, you are!” He insisted.

“What about Becky?” Sam blurted and Dean stared at him incredulously. “What?” Sam asked and crossed his arms. “She was totally in love with him!”

“Oh my god!” Bobby threw up his hands. “I swear the two of you have more estrogen than any woman I’ve ever known.”

Sam’s mouth went pinched and Dean just knew he was going to start defending his honour so he stepped in. “So Chuck, you’re trying to tell me that you’re the big kahuna?”

“It’s true,” Castiel admitted. “The vessel is not important but I can see my Father in his eyes.”

Dean watched Castiel carefully. “Where does that leave you then?”

Castiel shook his head and looked at Chuck. “I don’t know.”

Chuck walked over to Castiel and put a hand on his shoulder. “The first order of business is to send them back to where they belong.”

Castiel blinked. And then he screamed. Dean wasn’t even aware that he was moving before he had Castiel in his arms and they both hit the floor.

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