Author's Note: Thank you for all the kind words! Please enjoy this chapter!

He comes to in an eerily silent bunker.

A quick glance on the clock reminds him that he's been unconscious twenty minutes too long and he's immediately up. He doesn't suffer the same after effects that humans do after a head injury, but he's lost valuable time. He needs to get a lead on Abaddon and get her contained back here.

Exiting Sam's room, he sprints to the phone in the library, punching in the number he knows by heart. Dean, predictably, doesn't answer. He's still brooding, the angel supposes, still unwilling to face his problems with his brother.

"Dean, Sam's been possessed by Abaddon. We cannot exorcise her without causing too much damage to Sam's body, which will kill him. I shall endeavor to get him secured back at the bunker and—"

The line goes dead.

He hangs up and resolves that she must still be here somewhere. After all, the bunker housed numerous pieces of lore as well as supernatural weapons. She'd be a fool not to take some with her and with access to Sam's memories—

"Looking for someone?" A Scottish voice inquires smoothly and Castiel turns to see Crowley leaning causally against the wall, an unconscious Sam on the floor. The angel tenses, prepares himself for a battle, but Crowley instantly places his hands out, placating. "Relax, would you? If I wanted to kill you or him, I would have done so already." He winces somewhat. "Besides, you know how power I had to use to get into this bloody place? Damn sigils are everywhere—"

"What are you doing here?" The angel questions, brow furrowing. Crowley's newfound compassion is confusing to say the least and he isn't quite sure if it's genuine, but right now, it no longer matters.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Crowley shrugs easily. "Now, it seems Moose has gotten himself into quite the pickle."

"He was an easy target after Gadreel," Castiel grimaces, running a hand through his vessel's hair, a nervous tick that he's picked up from being around the brothers for so long. "We were only apart for five minutes—"

"I don't need to hear the sob story." The King of Hell mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gestures to Sam. "Let's get him secured and then we'll discuss options."

"You are . . . aiding me?" The angel mutters, partly hesitant and partly perplexed at the demon's behavior.

"You misunderstand me." He states flatly. "I'm doing this to spite that bitch who thinks she can replace me." Crowley smirks slightly, a devilish gleam entering his eyes. "Plus, who knows when I'll need to call in a favor?"

Castiel chooses to ignore his remark and reaches for Sam instead, hauling the man up and supporting his weight.

"We haven't much time." The angel mutters, sensing the demon within Sam already beginning to stir, trying to exert its will once more. "How'd you even know that—?"

"I have my sources." The King replies bluntly before turning and heading towards the dungeon.

Castiel doesn't have time to question his motives and just follows him down.

"Well, well," Sam—or more accurately—Abaddon greets with a twisted smile as she regains consciousness, chained to the chair in the middle of the devil's trap. "Crowley, I'd say it was a surprise to see you here, but we all know that you have a soft spot for these two." She tilts Sam's head to the side and chuckles lightly. "You really want to be the third brother, don't you? Join them on their stupid hunts? Listen to their awful music?" She leans forwards, almost conspiratorially. "Have heart to heart moments on the hood of their crappy car?" Leaning back, she tosses her head back and laughs. "You've gone soft, Crowley! Anyone could see—"

A cup of holy water is tossed at her and she hisses in pain as the water bubbles and boils the skin, turning it bright red.

"Now, now," Crowley chides. "Watch that tongue of yours."

"I'll kill him." Abaddon threatens. "I could stop his heart right now—"

"Do it and you shall perish immediately after!" Castiel threatens, his temper flaring out of check.

"Come now, darling," The King of Hell smirks. "You're out of your depth here."

"Am I?" Abaddon challenges. "Do you really want to chance poor Sammy's life on that?" She pauses a moment and then grins, wide and bright. "You can't even get rid of me, can you? Not without breaking poor little Sam for good?"

"You underestimate me then." Crowley retorts.

"What are you going to do? You—"

More holy water goes flying, splashing Sam's skin.

"Whoops." Crowley shrugs, listening to Abaddon cry out in alarm.

"We will find a way to stop you and save Sam." Castiel promises. "Make no mistake of that."

In the chair, Abaddon just begins to chuckle, skin burnt and eyes coal black.

Three hours later and they are no closer to finding a way to free Sam without killing him.

Abaddon sits in the chair, weary, injured from repeated exposure from holy water, but still very much in control of Sam.

"Tell me something," Abaddon slurs, through cracked and bloody lips. "How long do you two plan on playing the odd couple here?" Her gaze meets theirs. "You can't win—"

"Oh, just shut up, would you?" Crowley mutters as he flips a few pages from one of the ancient Latin texts, searching for some way to free his enemy from his current nemesis. What is the saying again, the enemy of an enemy is a friend? Well, in this case, it rings true. Still, he never imagined that he would ever be in this situation. It's surprising to say the least.

"Sam will die, a death that will be long and excruciating and you two shall—"

The door bursts open, the sound of dangling keys echoes in down the hall. Footsteps quickly grow louder and immediately, the dungeon door is flung open. Dean Winchester stands in the doorway; gaze hard and unyielding as it comes to rest on his brother's face.

"Well," Crowley begins breezily. "About damn time you showed up."

"Sammy?" Dean tries, taking a step towards his chained up brother and Abaddon smirks.

"Hello there, Dean." The would-be Queen chuckles. "Let's get this party started then, shall we?"

The eldest Winchester is not amused.

"Bitch, you are going to pay—" Dean hisses and if looks could kill, Abaddon would have died ten times over already.

"Save it!" Abaddon snaps. "I'm in control here! Get rid of me and Sam will die!"

Dean glances to the angel, eyes pooling with fear and worry, needing confirmation that what she's saying is true.

"I was unable to heal enough of Sam's previous injuries before Abaddon came. We've searched nearly all the texts here and cannot find a way to remove her without doing a full exorcism." Castiel confesses, ashamed of his own failings, of letting Sam walk away when he needed help. He should've done something—

"It's okay, Cas." Dean says softly, placing a hand on the angel's shoulder. He then looks over Crowley. "If you help us, she's all yours."

"That's why I'm here." Crowley chuckles.

"Well, that's just peachy." Abaddon laughs hoarsely. "Look at you! You're just like the three musketeers." Her coal black eyes come to rest on Dean. "Too bad you're too late, Dean." She raises her voice, nearly shouting. "Sam is going to die and there's nothing you can do—!"

Crowley lazily tosses some more water at her, effectively cutting off whatever she was about to say.

"Dean," Crowley starts, glancing up from one of the many ancient texts spread out on the small table. "There's no way to get rid of her without fully exorcising her."

"We could seal her away," Castiel suggests. "Until Sam gets healthier and then we could expel her."

"No," Dean shakes his head. "Sam would never forgive me."

"So what then?" Crowley mutters. "We just sit here and listen to her bitch and moan?"

There's a pause as Dean contemplates something in his mind. After a moment, he smiles softly, gaze alighting on his brother's face.

"No," He finally says. "We do what Sam would want us to do."

"What does that—" Crowley begins, but he's cut off a few seconds later.

"Exorcisamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus." Dean begins and Abaddon's gaze widens. It's clear she's never factored this possible scenario into her battle plan. Then again, Dean Winchester is nothing but unpredictable.

"What are you doing?" She shouts, slight alarm coloring her voice. "You'll kill him!"

"Dean, are you sure?" Castiel questions. "Abaddon has a valid point." He knows how much Dean values his brother's life—his enemies knew it too. That's what made this course of action somewhat odd.

"I ignored Sam's wishes once," The eldest Winchester says, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not doing it again." Glancing at the angel he adds, "Just be ready to heal him."

"Of course." The angel nods.

The eldest Winchester's steely gaze locks back onto the demon wheezing in the chair.

"Omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursion."

"It won't work!" Abaddon manages to get out through clenched teeth as she begins to writhe in pain. "You'd kill your own brother?"

Dean doesn't respond and just continues the exorcism.

It goes fast after that.

Abaddon does her best to remain in control, but not even she is immune to exorcism and within a few minutes, Sam throws his head back and black smoke escapes from his lips. He goes boneless after that, limp and unmoving.

"Sam!" Dean cries, ready to rush to his brother's aid.

"Wait." Crowley pulls him back, a hand restraining him from moving. "Just to be sure."

The youngest Winchester remains unmoving; his chest not rising or falling. There's no discernable trace of the demon in the air. She's been expelled.

Crowley releases him and immediately Dean rushes to his brother's side. He unchains him and Sam's body lists forwards, leaning against his brother.

"Sammy?" Dean calls out, hands seeking out a pulse on his neck. "Sam, can you hear me?" With wide eyes, his head spins around to meet Castiel's cerulean gaze. "He has no pulse."

Castiel kneels beside Sam and places two fingers to the youngest Winchester's neck. He wills his grace to work, to fill every pore of Sam's being and spur his heart back to life.

Seconds tick by; they feel like an eternity.

Finally, thankfully, Sam gasps, eyes opening.

"D'n?" He slurs, voice hoarse, tone confused, as if he's unsure what he's seeing is real.

"I'm here, Sammy." The older brother beams, grin as bright as the sun and Castiel steps back, allowing them their privacy.

"All's well that ends well." Crowley remarks. He points towards the door. "I'll see myself out if you don't mind."

Then he's gone, the smell of sulfur lingering in the air.

Castiel just smiles.

"You're leaving."

He catches Dean at the front door. Sheepishly, the eldest Winchester turns around to face the angel.

"Sam's okay so—" He begins, shrugging.

"Sam needs you, Dean." Castiel protests. "Surely, you will not insist upon being stubborn—"

"When Sam wakes up, he won't even remember what happened!" Dean snaps. Then, jabbing a finger in the angel's direction, he tacks on, "You said that he was too out of it to really process it anyways."

"Just because he will not remember it does not negate the fact that it did, in fact, happen." The Heavenly Messenger argues. "I shall tell him and Sam will want you—"

"To what, Cas?" Dean challenges, voice rising. "To apologize for saving his damn life? For making another fucked up choice?"

"Sam will want you by his side." Castiel says softly instead. "You two are family. Sam's been through an ordeal and he needs you."

"Not me." Dean chuckles mirthlessly, shaking his head. "You can take care of him, Cas. You do a better job than I can anyways." He opens the door, begins to make for the car.

"Dean, wait!"

But the door slams in his face, effectively ending the argument.

"How are you feeling?" He asks Sam the next morning.

"Better, actually." The youngest Winchester mutters, taking a sip of his black coffee. "Hard to believe I got possessed yesterday."

"Yes, well . . ."

Awkward silence.

"I called him, you know." Sam offers softly. "He didn't pick up."

"He's just being stubborn." Castiel replies with a tired grin. Rising from the chair, he places a hand on Sam's shoulder, offering his strength and support. "He will return."

"I know." Sam murmurs.

"Until then, you know that I shall be here, should you require my aid."

At that, the youngest Winchester beams, bright and beautiful.

"I know, Cas, and I appreciate it."

And as they sit there, in comfortable silence, Castiel can't help but think that this where he was always meant to be. The Winchesters made him more than a foot soldier in Heaven's army. They made him feel and experience the joys and sorrows of life here on Earth. They made him appreciate what his Father had created all those years ago. But most of all, they made him—

"What are you smiling about?" Sam questions, smirking.

"Nothing." He replies, smiling still. "Nothing at all."

The Winchesters made him human.

Author's Note: This piece totally kicked my butt. The first few drafts I wrote, I hated and now I finally am done. I'm so happy with this story! I hope you are too. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!