As soon as Dean took that first gasping breath, wary relief washed over him. He could breathe. And it only hurt a little. The hunter's body tingled, although not unpleasantly. It was obvious whoever tied him back together this time knew what they were doing.

The hunter didn't know it, but far, far above him, in another realm, there was a chorus of cheers. Celebration that echoed throughout the sky.

DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!

Dean coughs as dirt and dust fall on his face. He looks up at the old, dark wood, fear striking through him at the realization.

He's in a coffin.

John had buried him alive once. The man had told Dean it was to prepare him; sometimes a psychotic Satan worshiper would bury their human sacrifices. Dean remembers how he started panicking, shouting as loud as he could, banging on the coffin John had stuffed him in. He remembered when John finally pulled him out how his father glared at him disappointedly.

Dean would try to catch his breath between his sobs. John would drop a bottle of water in front of his son and turn away.

"You have twenty minutes. Then we try again."

John made Dean practice all day. The young Winchester was only fourteen. He tried to reason with his father, "I'll never need to know this!", "If we try again, I'll die.", "Please, can we just spar again? Or practice shooting?"

His father never listened to him; shooting him down easily as he pushed Dean roughly back into the coffin. "You need it right now. Now, don't you?", "If you dig yourself out, you won't die.", "You don't need practice with what you're already an expert on."

Dean never, ever thought he'd ever be thankful for what his father did to him that day, but today he kinda is. The hunter pulled his shirt over his mouth, using it as a buffer against the dust. He pounded against the weak wood, and after the fourth hit, it came crumbling down. Dean pushed the dirt as best as he could to his feet, allowing his arms and chest more room to move. Squirming to move some dirt underneath him, the hunter started his slow ascent six feet up.

He had to stop every now and then, just to let his sore arms rest, or to flick dirt out of his eyes. Desperately dragging in unclean air, he pushed himself further, knowing that soon, he'll be free.

Unless.

Unless this was a new tactic in hell. A new mind game. He'd climb out and think he's free, that he somehow busted out. But no. No, then a demon would find him, slam its fist into his chest and rip out his heart. Dean would be in pain, but he would still be alive, conscious, and the demon would laugh at his uncontrollable scream.

He'd open his eyes and be tied down, skin boiling, and soul being shredded to pieces.

But then his hand tore through small grass roots. He could feel the sun on his skin, the wind against his fingers. His hand started to push dirt and clay out of his way. He pushed against the dirt below his feet, and he was able to get another arm out.

The hunter hauled himself up by his arms now, his fists gripping the dried grass like they were a lifeline. Which for him, they were.

He gasped in a breath for the second time today, loving the feel of the warm, clean air filling his lungs. The hunter rests his head against the ground, panting. If a demon were to come and tear him apart, it'd do it while Dean was catching his breath.

So Dean sat, soaking in the warmth from the sun. It was far less painful than the flames of hell; a soothing, welcoming warmth.

Eventually, the hunter pulled himself out of his grave completely, looking around the area. He sucked in a breath when he saw his surroundings.

"Jesus." He hissed.

Trees were flattened, cut off from their stumps violently. The grass wasn't dried, it'd been incinerated, pressed down in some kind of blast.

Ok.

Maybe he really was out.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, swaying as the world spun around him. He held his head, blinking rapidly until the black blinding dots faded from his vision. Slowly, he stumbled toward a dirt road.

His legs reluctantly lead him down the road, he could see a building just a bit ahead. It might be a gas station?

The more Dean walked, stretching his muscles, the easier it got. His joints popped occasionally, though not unpleasantly. The hunter kept his eyes open, in case a demon or something will pop out of nowhere and attack him.

The gas station was empty; a fine layer of dust covering the outside. Dean pounded on the door, straining his voice to get out a simple, "Hello?"

Getting no response, Dean rolls his sleeve over his hand and smashes the glass in the door. He climbs inside and heads straight for the water bottles.

He hadn't had water since before hell. It's not a normal part of his diet. It's probably been a year since he last drank something.

Speaking of which, what day was it?

Dean found a newspaper, squinting at the date.

Thursday, September 18, 2006.

"September…" Dean muttered to himself, his throat felt better now that he swallowed a small lake.

That means it's only been a few months down under. But while he was there, it felt like years.

He couldn't imagine an eternity there.

"Hey, I'm headed out." Sam said, pulling on a flannel."

"Tell Rubes I said hi." Alex didn't look up from the laptop as Sam grunted and headed out the door. She was watching videos on YouTube. The website had only been up for three years. Crawling through all the stupid videos was annoying. But worth it when she found something interesting.

She clicked on a video about a cat, and waited for it to load. As she did, a new window popped up. It was white with a blinking cursor in the top corner. An unloaded page.

She frowned, and went to exit it out. But before she could close the tab, the cursor started to move, words quickly formed before her eyes.

Alex.

The vampire froze, her fingers hovering above the board.

Don't bite.

Alex looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably.

"Don't bite what?" She muttered to herself.

He's coming. Don't bite.

Alex snorted. "Context, man."

Right?

The girl's smile fell. The laptop didn't have a webcamera. Was this a virus? "Wait. Can you hear me?"

No.

"I don't believe that."

You will.

It took Dean three days to travel from his demolished graveyard to Bobby's house. The older hunter reacted poorly to talking to him on the phone.

He hot wired the first car he found, an old junker that was only staying up by the Grace of God. Or something.

Anyway, Dean spent the entire drive calling Sam's phone, but the kid never answered him. Dean kept an eye out while he was driving, taking in the scenery for the first time in years. Were trees always that tall? The sky always that blue? Clouds that puffy and the sun that bright? Everything was put into a brighter spotlight after the smoke and screams of hell.

Speaking of screams. Dean shuddered as he remembered the high-pitched screeches from the gas station. His ears were still ringing by the time he got the car to start. There goes the other half of his hearing.

When Dean parked the car outside Bobby's, he slid out of it easily. The hunter bounded up Bobby's steps. He paused for a moment before he rung the doorbell. He suddenly felt a profound appreciation for this doorstep.

It was the place John dropped him and Sam off and then disappeared for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

It grew to be a place that Dean would turn to if he needed help. A place of trust, of care. Of family.

Dean patted the old door fondly, nothing at Bobby's ever changed and for that, Dean was glad. Seeing the word "New" on billboards and advertisements during the drive only reminded Dean that he'd been gone.

'Shit, this probably counts as a chick-flick moment.' Dean thought. He rang the doorbell, awkwardly fixing his shirt while he waited for it to answer.

Bobby pulled the door open and Dean smiled at the sight of his father.

Dean felt a swirl of relief and joy in him as he said, "Surprise."

Bobby, however, felt the opposite. He stared at Dean in horror, his voice merely a whisper, "No… I don't…"

"Yeah, me either." Dean mumbled, stepping inside. He brushed off the older man's expression. It probably is horrifying to see your dead adoptive son at the door. "But, here I am."

Dean had to grab Bobby's oncoming arm as he tried to slice at Dean. The Winchester pulled Bobby's arm around, back to his side. Bobby turned and punched Dean with the other fist.

"Ow- Bobby!" Dean yelled, stumbling away from him. "Bobby it's me!"

"My ass!" Bobby grunted in reply, stepping into the kitchen, where Dean was. He held his knife up threateningly, his eyes furious.

Dean threw a hand up, sliding a chair in between them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, WAIT!"

Bobby paused, only as Dean continued, "You're name is Robert Stephen Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You're about the closest thing I've ever had to a father."

At Bobby's stunned silence, the hunter slowly rose up from behind the chair, "Bobby... it's me."

The hunter stepped forward, kicking the chair out of the way. With tears in his eyes, he gently pressed a hand to Dean's shoulder. Dean smiled up at him, happy to see a friendly face after all this time.

Then Bobby took another swing at Dean. The hunter grunted and deflected the attack again, hissing as they struggled, "I'm not a shapeshifter!"

"Then you're a revenant!" Bobby replied, fighting to get out of his grip.

Dean broke away, having gotten the knife in his hand. "Alright. If I was either, would I do this with a silver knife?"

Dean made sure Bobby was watching as he rolled up the sleeve of his flannel. He took a deep breath and make a clean slice on his arm, watching as the blood pooled and slowly trickled down.

Bobby's eyes flicked up to Dean's his voice one of disbelief as he whispered, "Dean?"

"'T's what I've been trying to tell you." Dean sighed as he stepped up to Bobby.

The more experienced hunter was gasping for breath over his emotion. He pulled Dean into a hug, holding the boy tight. Dean pressed his face into Bobby's shoulder, refusing to be the first to let go.

After all this time, after so long of pain and torture and hurt. This is what he needed. To be held by family, by someone that loves him.

"What's happening?" Alex asked, trying to move the mouse, but the computer didn't respond to her efforts.

I'm here to help.

"Sure you are."

Trust me.

"How about no?"

He's coming back, and when he does, play nice. Or else he'll kill you.

Alex stopped pounding on the keyboard as she looked at the words. "Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Who's coming back?"

Dean.

"...Dean? Sam's brother? The dead guy?" Alex looked around the room. Maybe she was being punk'd? This could just be some elaborate prank by Sam.

He's coming back.

"Sure. Why should I believe this? Who are you?" Alex rolled her eyes, the dead couldn't just rise from the ground. That kind of thing didn't just happen.

My name is VASH.

Alex stared at the screen, "You're insane, that's what you are!"

There was no reply. The cursor had disappeared, leaving a blank window with text.

Alex tapped the screen, "What? Not going to talk to me anymore?"

No response.

The was a noise outside. Alex slowly slid off her bed and walked up to the window, unsure of what would be on the other side. Her hand shook as she quickly pulled back the curtain. Sunlight spread across her face and she squinted, feeling the slow burn of her skin. There was nothing outside. The spot that the Impala sat earlier was empty.

Alex dropped the curtain and stepped back into the darkness.

After a moment, she turned and looked back at the laptop, shining on the bed brightly. She grabbed a pen and the motel brochure. In the margins, she scribbled down the one-sided conversation. She's definitely going to accuse Sam of messing with her. Alex thought about it for a moment, and then she added the date and time; just in case it wasn't Sam. It seemed like valuable information to have.

Dean looked around Bobby's house. Not much had changed, more dust, a different book open on the same desk. Everything was the way it should be. Well, almost. The younger hunter picked up one of the many empty bottles. Yeah, all of the Winchesters, except maybe Sam, had a drinking problem. But even Dean was concerned with the amount of empty bottles scattered throughout Bobby's study.

He raised his eyebrow at his father, shaking the bottle, "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"

Bobby swallowed, saying, quietly, "These past few months ain't exactly been easy, boy. For me or him. We had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me, anyway?" Dean asked, setting down the bottle. He wiped his hands on his jeans, suddenly wanting the feeling of the bottle and all it represents off him.

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But…" Bobby's eyes flicked down, to the floor. "Sam wouldn't have it."

Dean turned, needing a distraction from the oncoming storm brewing in his gut. He opened the fridge, ducking down to see all the premade meals in it. He looked over his shoulder at Bobby, but the other man was looking away. He must've gotten a girlfriend, Dean decided. Who else would make him dinners with little notes on how to heat them up and scribbled, 'See you in two weeks!' He'll definitely have to tease the older man about that one.

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." Dean finally said, grabbing one of the few bottles of water. He closed the fridge and leaned against it. Bobby was looking at him again, his cap low on his head.

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow." Bobby lowered his voice as he said, almost to himself, "That's about all he said."

Suspicion growing in his stomach, Dean asked, "What do you mean?"

"He was quiet. Real quiet. Convinced him to do three hunts with me. Tried to keep everything as close to normal as we could get. But then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found." Bobby paused and added, as an afterthought, "If it weren't for Alex, I wouldn't know if he's even alive."

Dean had stopped listening, muttering to himself, "Oh, dammit, Sammy."

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo." Dean said, a sinking feeling curling in his gut the more he thought about it.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." Dean quickly strips his jacket and pulls up his sleeve. Bobby's eyes widen as he sees the large handprint burned into Dean's shoulder.

Bobby stood up, hissing, "What in the hell?"

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." The second option could lead to some troubling times in their kingdom later on.

"But why?"

"To hold up their end of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby realized.

"It's what I would have done." Dean replied. He would've done it the day Sam got killed. It'd be his priority number one until Sam was alive and standing again. Because he's the big brother. And that's what he's supposed to do.

It didn't take them long at all to track down Sam and head back to Illinois. Right where Dean was pulled up. Coincidence? I think not.

Sam was easier to hunt down than a monster, but that was only because the boy wasn't really trying to hide from Dean. Bobby would have trouble finding the trail. But Dean, that boy couldn't hide from Dean if the lights were off and Dean was blind.

When they knocked on the trashy motel door, a woman answered. Dean would describe her as 'hot'. Bobby would say she's certainly underdressed, but considering the red heart on the door, and the type of hotel they were in, it wasn't all that surprising.

She took one look at them and asked, "So, where is it?"

"Where's what?" Dean asked.

"The pizza, that takes two people to deliver." She's got a mouth on her, this one.

Dean and Bobby glance at one another, "I think we got the wrong room."

Before either of them could move, Sam walked into view, talking to the girl.

"Hey, is-" His voice cuts off when his eyes land on Dean. He stares at his dead brother, suddenly finding it difficult to breath. Fond affection warms Dean's gaze as Sam glances from him to Bobby and back again. He swallows hard.

"Heya, Sammy…" Dean says quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Sam's silent as Dean steps into the room, ignoring the woman, who steps aside to let him in. It's silent, and for a moment, Dean feels peace. His father and his brother are both alive and well. Plus, Sammy's getting some action on the side with some hot chick!

All is well.

And then Sam tries to stab him.

Sam pulls a knife out of nowhere and lunges at Dean. The woman screams, backing away from the boys quickly. Dean blocks Sam's attack and Bobby quickly pulls the younger Winchester away, gripping him around the shoulders. Sam struggles, fury and fear warring in his chest.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Sam shouts, trying to slash at the monster possessing his brother's form.

"Like you didn't do this?!" Dean yells over him, his back against the wall. He won't fight Sam, not now.

"Do what?!" Sam hisses, spitting in fury.

"It's him. It's him." Bobby interrupted, struggling to hold back the mountain of a man, "I've been through this already, it's really him."

The fight slowly drains out of Sam as he stares into his brother's eyes. He knows those eyes, that emotion. He's been looking up to them for years. It's him. It's really him. But it can't be.

"...What?"

Breathing hard, Dean steps forward slightly, "I know… I look fantastic, huh?"

Bobby let's go as Sam pulls Dean into a desperate hug. Emotion swells inside Sam, drawing tears to his eyes and causing his breath to get caught in his throat. Dean buries his face in Sam's neck, holding his brother as close to him as possible. This is what he thought of, when he was in hell. His baby brother, safe and sound.

Sam pulled away eventually, a few hours too quickly, if you ask Dean. He smiled at his brother, about to say something, when the forgotten woman speaks.

"So… are you two, like…. Together?" She asks, confusion lacing her voice.

"What?" Sam frowns at her, confused for a second. She knows Dean. She hates Dean, and Dean hates her. Why would she- Oh. Right. Dean can't know about Ruby. "Uh, no. No. He's my brother."

Ruby, brilliant actress that she is, still looks confused as all hell, "Uh, got it… I guess, I should probably go…"

"Yeah, yeah. That's probably a good idea. Sorry." Sam says quickly, his eyes trying to communicate something to her. She just nods, a little brokenly as she "tries to figure out what just happened".

She dresses quickly and leaves as Sam promises he'll text her.

Sam turned around to get the lecture of a lifetime. Dean and Bobby drilled into him, trying to find out what he did to get Dean out.

Sam hissed in fury, "You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby said, crossing his arms.

"Well, I didn't."

Dean used the kind of voice he saved for when Sam snuck out as a kid, "Don't lie to me."

And suddenly, Sam felt ten again, "I'm not lying!"

Dean stepped forward, eyes furious, "So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy?" Sam flinched at that part. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

Anger shot through him, and he turned on his brother harshly, "Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?"

The older hunter grabbed Sam's shirt and pulled him closer, snarling, "There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

Sam broke away from him, getting some space between his brother and himself, "I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean nodded, stepping away. His voice was softer as he replied, "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

Bobby spoke up for the first time in a while, his mind already jumping to what Sam's innocence meant.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question…"

Dean mumbled, his heart sinking, "If he didn't pull me out, then what did?"

In the beginning, there were only three powerful beings, worthy of my praise. However, they lacked a certain… obedience. A different breed was necessary for the universe to properly function. And thus, angels were created. Uriel was the first of his kind. Often he pretends to be an archangel, as if they are higher beings than angels. It's simply not true. Stronger, perhaps, are the three archangels, but this didn't make them better in my eyes. The angels were quite wonderful creatures on their own.

There were many, many angels. And each and every one of them were of import. But there is one specific angel that I want to tell you about.

The smallest angel.

Baby angel with wings of black and Grace so strong, was the one who dragged the Righteous Man out of the pit of wrong.

The last angel to ever be created; the youngest in an army. He had to be strong to put up with thousands of older siblings.

Perhaps that's why he was the one given the task to go down into Hell. The archangels - three now down to two - ordered for the oldest angels to gather a group to go down into Hell and save the Righteous Man. They did. And that group took one look at the entrance to Hell, heard just a second of the screams of the damned, and turned around and told their youngers to do it. Who told their youngers. Who told their youngers. Down and down and down it went until only one younger was left.

He had no one to push the task off to. And he was always so obedient.

Heaven held its breath as the baby angel stepped up to the gates of Hell.

Sam held up a hand, "Before we figure all of this out, can we head back to my motel?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "This ain't it?"

Sam smiled, ducking his head. Looking around the trashy room at the pictures of barely-clothed models and heart-shaped pillows. He licked his lips, "Uh, Dean, I wouldn't just stay in a room like this."

Bobby watched Sam carefully, as Dean shrugged and muttered, "Fine, but I'm driving."

Dean sighed as he sat in his baby for the first time in forever. Sam, too, felt better now that he was in the passenger seat.

The drive was quick, just a few blocks away to a much more respectable motel. The doors were green and the sign was a deep red, almost the color of rust. There wasn't a stripper in sight. Dean parked the Impala, and sat in the car for a moment, just holding his hands on the wheel. Sam watched him, seeing just past Dean as Bobby parked his old car next to them. Dean inhaled deeply, a small smile on his face.

"You good?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah. I missed her, Sammy." Dean grinned, his hands rubbing against the wheel affectionately, "It's great to be back behind her wheel."

Sam couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face, "Well, I'll leave you two alone, so you can catch up."

Sam slid out of the Impala, pulling out his motel key. Dean grinned, climbing out of the car a little reluctantly. The sun was shining, reflecting off his car beautifully. Dean sighed again, a smile tugging on his lips. He stepped up behind Sam and Bobby as they opened the door.

"What kind of shit do you think you're pulling?" A female voice hissed as soon as the door was open. Dean's eyes widened, seeing a teenage girl in his brother's bedroom.

"How many times are we going to open your door and find a girl behind it?" Dean asked, giving Sam a scrutinizing look.

Sam huffed at Dean, stepping up to Alex, "What's wrong?"

The vampire proceeded to shove a brochure at him, "Do you think this is funny? You scared the shit out of me, Sam!"

Sam read looked at the motel brochure, but it was just a brochure. He didn't see what was so terrifying.

"You like them feisty, don't you?" Dean said as he stepped into the room behind Bobby, closing the door as he went. Alex's eyes widened, her gaze flicking from Sam to Dean and back again.

She stumbled away from Dean, he had the distinct reek of death on him, but his heart was pounding. Death is kind of like BO, each person has a different smell to it. And someone else's death-smell doesn't hang around you, it just stays with the body. There's no chance that this could just be that Dean had killed something and that was the cause of the smell. Nope. This was 100% Dean-death.

"I'm- are you- you're-" Alex didn't know what to do. This was freaking her out. It's one thing to get weird messages online. It's another for them to come true.

"Hey, whoa, calm down." Dean said, holding out his hands. He doesn't know what he did wrong, but the girl before him was incredibly pale. She looked like she might faint. "My name's Dean. I'm Sam's brother. And that's Bobby. He's our friend. We're not gonna hurt you or anything."

That only made her eyes widen. "Yeah. Okay. Cool." She looked at Sam, "We need to talk."

"Someone told you he'd be coming back." Sam looked back at the notes she'd scribbled on the motel brochure. "Why?"

"Hell if I know. I thought it was you at first. A joke or something." Alex said. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. Sam sat on his, Bobby occupied the motel's only chair and Dean leaned against the wall. Her eyes kept flicking from Bobby to Dean. The person - Vash or whoever - said to play nice with Dean or he'll kill her. And she already didn't trust Bobby. Frankly, the new company wasn't very pleasant for her.

"Do you think it was whatever dragged me out?" Dean asked from his perch by the wall.

Sam shrugged, keeping the brochure when Dean held out his hand to read it. He didn't want his brother connecting the dots just yet. The message made it pretty clear Alex wasn't human. Dean pouted, but didn't bother wrestling Sam for it.

"I don't know. Why would they tell her that though? Why not me or Bobby?"

Bobby suddenly looked at Alex then, "What date is it?"

"Uh, the twenty-second?" Sam says, watching his dad stare down his new friend.

The older hunter mumbles, not looking away from Alex, "See you in about two weeks."

After a few seconds of looking at each other, Dean says, "Hey, Bobby? Got something you wanna share with the class?"

Bobby finally dragged his eyes away from the vampire. "I don't know for sure, yet. But I think I know who gave Alex this little… hint. And I don't think they're dangerous."

"Alright. Well, I still want to know what kind of demon dragged you out." Sam said, turning the attention back to Dean. "And why they're not still wearing you."

"How many times to do I have to prove I'm me?" Dean grumbled, already looking for the salt.

"No one's saying you're not." Sam said, eyes flicking to Alex for a second. She nodded, slightly, subtly. He didn't smell like a demon. He still smelled like death. But he wasn't a demon. "I'm just saying, demons don't let go of their meatsuit just for the fun of it. If one of them rode you out, they're planning something nasty for it."

"Well, I feel fine." Dean muttered, shifting on his feet angrily.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam said, trying to get his brother to see reason.

"I know a psychic." Bobby spoke up. "A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

Dean grinned, "Hell yeah, it's worth a shot."

Bobby grabbed his keys and gestured to the door, "Well, let's go, then."

Alex jumped off the bed, eager to get the hell out of this motel room. With Sam's permission or not, she's not one for adventuring alone. She always had her brothers' with her; always on their leash. She hasn't gone out alone in years. So usually she waits around until Sam gets back from his demon time.

Dean turned to follow Bobby and the girl out, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"Hey, um…"

"Yeah?"

Sam slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a special amulet. It looked like a small, golden tiki head with horns. Dean smiled at the sight of it.

"Thanks." Dean says sincerely as he loops it around his neck.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Sam brushes it off. But everything feels a bit better now that Dean's wearing his necklace. He's just not Dean without it.

"Hey, Dean, what was it like?" Sam asked as they walked out of the motel room.

"What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing." Dean lied easily.

Sam nods, "Well, thank God for that."

"Yeah"

Bobby was standing outside his truck, Alex very adamantly next to the Impala. Bobby called to the two, "She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up."

He climbs in his car.

Dean grinned as he steps up to his baby for the second time today. "Miss me, sweetheart? I'll never leave you for so long again."

Alex snorted and crawled into the back seat. She leaned forward to say to Sam, "Does he do this often?"

"All the time." Sam replies with a grin.

Dean glanced down at the radio and his smile immediately fell. "What the hell is that?"

Sam looked down at where he was pointing, saying innocently, "That's an iPod jack."

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up." Dean growled, unplugging the stupid contraption.

"It's was Alex's idea." Sam said quickly, pointing to the back.

Alex sighed and leaned back with a huff, "Dick."

Sam couldn't hold back his grin now.

About an hour into the ride, Alex got bored. She was able to convince Sam to let her play one of those horrible games that are downloaded into phones. She had just gotten a new high score on Break Out when Sam's phone vibrated in her hand. He had a text.

She decided she'll just read it to him, since she didn't want to give him back the phone yet. She punched the buttons to bring her to the message screen and clicked the newest unread message.

'Alex. It's Vash.'

Oh, great. This fucker again. Alex almost ignored the text, but curiosity got the better of her. This person was right before. Maybe they'll be right again.

'The psychic. Don't let her look at Castiel.'

Alex hesitated, but then pushed the reply button. Slowly, she typed out, 'Or what?'

She wished phones were easier to text on. If she didn't have to push the 7 button four times, she would've added, 'What's a Castiel?'. But she pushed send and waited for a response.

None came.

With a huff she glanced at Sam and Dean in the front seat. Dean was singing horribly to some rock song and Sam was laughing. She wasn't going to be the one to ruin the moment. So she quietly clicked back to her game and watched as the little ball ran into the red bricks.

After a few more minutes of singing, Dean glanced back at her in the rear view mirror.

"So, are you a hunter, too?" It was only then did Alex realize that they never actually introduced her.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm Alex-Annie." Alex said, "My family died because of a," She glanced at Sam, "a monster. Sam saved me and I've been traveling with him ever since."

"Huh." Dean glanced at his brother. "Was your family fluent in the supernatural?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

Dean nodded as he kept driving down the road, "Well, it's nice to meet you. And I'm sorry about your loss."

"I'd say the same to you, but you came back." Alex replied.

The woman who opened the door smelled pretty human. Alex didn't really know what she expected, but the psychic only had a strange spicy smell to her, along with her normal human scent.

She flirted with each of the boys and when she turned to Alex, her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh." She said, "You're a-"

"Teenager. Yeah, we know. This isn't an adult only party, is it?" Sam interrupted, his eyes pleading her to stay silent.

And right back to the flirting, the woman winked, "Not just yet, sugar."

They got down to business quickly and before Alex could blink, the five of them were sitting around a table with candles in the middle. The room was dark and the air was cold. Alex tried not to think of the warning from Vash.

"Take each other's hands." The psychic, Pamela, instructed. Alex held onto Bobby and Sam's hands, slightly annoyed that Bobby's hands were so warm. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched."

Dean jumped suddenly, trying and failing to not look shocked or offended by the sudden grope. "Whoa! Well, he didn't touch me there."

Pamela laughed, unaware of Dean's unease, "My mistake."

Perks of being a vampire; Alex can hear the heartbeats of everyone around her. Yeah, it's annoying most the time, and it only reminds her how hungry she is; but on rare occasions, it's useful. She can tell how people feel by listening to their heart. She knows when people are nervous or lying or excited. Alex didn't miss the way Dean's heart leaped suddenly and sunk down low painfully. She kept her eyes on him, seeing as how his was the only heart in the room that was beating out of time.

His heartbeat only quickens as he looks around. Slowly, the shrugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeve. And now Sam's heart is pounding loudly. Alex glances at him, but the other man is focused solely on the nasty red imprint on Dean's shoulder. It's in the distinct shape of a handprint, and Sam can't seem to tear his eyes away from it.

Pamela places her hand over the pink skin.

"Okay." The psychic says and they all close their eyes. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

The tv behind Bobby turns on and plays static. The table they're sitting at starts to rumble and the air feels charged with a furious power. Alex can smell something almost metallic in the air.

"I invoke, conjure, and command - Castiel? No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

Alex's eyes flew open at that, she said, at the same time as Dean, "Castiel?"

"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." Pamela said, eyes still closed.

Alex shifted in her seat, locking eyes with Dean. "You should probably listen to it..."

But the psychic was drowning out her voice, chanting, "I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"Pamela, seriously."

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"I really don't think you should-"

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

Bobby added, "Maybe we should stop."

"We should definitely stop!" Alex almost shouted.

"I've almost got it."

"I don't care!" Alex hissed, "Don't look at Castiel, Pamela! Don't-"

"I command you, show me your face!" She was yelling over Alex's protests now, "Show me your face now!"

The fire of the candles shoots up suddenly, flaring into the air. Pamela screams out in pain as her eyes fly open, white flames burn from her skull and when she closes her eyes again, there's blood streaming down her cheeks like tears. She slumps forward and Bobby catches her.

"Call 911!" He shouts and Sam scrambles into the other room.

Bobby lowers her to the ground and Dean kneels down next to them. Alex stands in the middle of the room, watching. Her hands are shaking and her gut plummets when Pamela opens her eyes. The sockets are burned to a crisp, a dark nasty red color replacing her once beautiful eyes.

"I can't see!" She sobs, "I-I can't see…"

When it turned out that everyone in the diner they went to was a demon, things were somehow falling into place a bit.

Dean's mouth was the only thing that saved them. Bobby wasn't with them, and Alex was useless, staring into space blankly. When they walked out, Sam whispered to Alex, "Why didn't you tell us they were demons?"

Alex just shrugged, not blinking. "Guess I didn't smell them."

One thing for sure came out of that exchange in the diner. The demons were scared. They had no idea what had the raw power to pull someone out of the deepest parts of hell and stitch them back together. Which means whatever they're dealing with is stronger than the spawn of hell. Lovely.

Sam was gone, and Alex was left alone with Bobby and Dean. Apparently, Dean's savior tired to kill him via loud screeching noises. The vampire was thankful that she wasn't in the room for that. With her enhanced hearing, that would have been beyond painful.

Instead, it was only merely annoying. She was standing outside, watching as Sam drove away in Dean's car. She followed him outside, asking him just what he thought he was doing. But nothing she said could stop the man, and that might've only been because she wasn't trying too hard to stop him. As the taillights faded into the night, Alex sighed.

Not even three minutes later, and the high pitched noise from inside the room made Alex hiss, her hands clutching at her ears. The glass in the windows shattered and the noise only grew louder. Alex sunk to the ground, she could see as Bobby ran past her and pulled Dean out of the room. She staggered to her feet and followed them as Bobby helped Dean into his truck.

The old man drove away as fast as he could, not knowing what they were fighting or how to fight it. All he knew what to do was to get as far away from the threat as possible until they could game plan.

A few miles down the road and a few minutes later, Bobby asks how they both are.

Alex, sitting in the back seat, has her head on her knees and her hands clutching her ears. "Dying." She grunted.

Dean gave her an odd look in the rear-view mirror as he said, "Aside from some church bells ringing in my ears, peachy." He's no stranger to having his ears be in pain. So this is nothing to him.

He pulls out his phone, calls Sam, and lies through his teeth.

Bobby gives him a bemused look, "Why the hell didn't you tell him?"

"Because he'd just try to stop us."

"From what?"

"Summoning this thing." Dean said seriously.

Alex grunts from the backseat, "Bad idea."

Dean ignores her and looks to Bobby, "It's time we faced it head-on."

"You can't be serious." Bobby said, eyes wide.

"As a heart attack." Dean replied, "It's high noon, baby."

Bobby argued, "Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we've got to be ready for anything." He pulled out Ruby's knife, "We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk…"

"This is a bad idea." Bobby states and Alex hums in agreement from the backseat.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more," Dean admits, "but what other choice do we have?"

"We could choose life."

"Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam on this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is." Dean turned to look at Alex, "With your family, how many hunts did you go on?"

Alex replied a simple, "All of them" before she remembered that her hunts and his hunts are actually polar opposites. Dean nods and turns back to face forward. After a moment, he says, "You don't have to come in if you don't want to. You can sit out here in the car while Bobby and I summon this thing."

The vampire would honestly prefer to be four states away from these two right now. But she was never one to sit on the sidelines.

"Count me in."

None of the demons nor Ruby knew what could have pulled Dean out of hell. And Sam still couldn't exorcise the sons of bitches without killing their meat suit. Everyone was telling him that the end was near and whatever had pulled Dean out was going to kill them all.

Sam had nothing to go off of.

Except for a name…

Castiel, as it turns out, is a powerful force that makes the sky howl in fury and the air snap with anger. The shackles on the roof were banging in the wind and the lights above them were swinging uncontrollably. Dean turned his wide eyes to Bobby as the lights shattered above them. Sparks rained down on the three of them as the doors to the barn opened slowly. Alex could hear the fear in all of their hearts as the light bulbs exploded.

Through the smoke and falling sparks, they could see a figure, a man, walking slowly to them. They raised their guns and Alex was thankful Sam gave her a mini lesson on how to shoot. The man, the monster, didn't even blink as they shot at him. That smell from earlier, that metallic scent, invaded Alex's senses. He walked through every single sigil Bobby had painted.

Bobby and Dean dropped their guns in favor of knives. The thing was only a foot away from them now. It stopped right in front of Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Castiel said, his voice deep and rough.

"Thanks for that." Dean replied before slamming Ruby's knife deep into the monster's chest. Castiel looked down at the weapon, eyes calculating. Slowly, he looked back to Dean and pulled the knife out of his vessel. Dean's heart nearly stopped, his mind racing to try to find a way to kill this thing.

Bobby lunged for him, but Castiel stopped his attack easily. He gently placed his fingers against Bobby's forehead and the man slipped into unconsciousness. Dean tried to stand his ground, but all he could think was 'Demons can't do that, not a demon, holy shit' over and over again.

Castiel then turned to Alex and gave her a semi-disgusted look. She stepped back slightly, but he was quicker, reaching forward with ease and tapping her forehead. She fell to the ground with a soft 'thump'.

He then turned to Dean sand said, "We need to talk, Dean. ...Alone."

Like hell Dean was going to say anything to this guy until he made sure Bobby and Alex were alright. Dean leaned over Bobby, his fingers pressed to his neck, searching for a pulse.

"Your friends are alive." Castiel said, flipping through the spell book that Bobby used to summon him.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Castiel." The baby angel thought that much was clear. Couldn't humans tell who each other were just by appearance?

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?" Dean growled.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Dean stood up slowly, eyes trained on the so-called angel, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." Because, no, there wouldn't be. How could angel's exist when there was so many bad things in the world?

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Castiel replied, turning completely to face Dean, the spellbook forgotten. Lightning flashes, and spread behind Castiel were great, shadowy wings, stretching over most of the wall. It was just for a second, there and gone, Dean almost missed it. But now that he's seen it, he'll never forget it.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean muttered, still trying to figure out where this thing stands on the 'good' and 'evil' brackets.

Castiel looked down, ashamed, he tried to explain, "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?" At Castiel's nod, Dean shakes his head, "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake." Castiel apologized, "Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

"This? This is... a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Somehow that didn't surprise Dean at all. He knew this thing was a demon.

"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." Castiel told the truth. An angel and their vessel is a very sacred bond. Castiel wore his with pride, even if his coat was a little tore up. He very much enjoyed his vessel.

"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" Dean was still trying to think of ways to get both Bobby and Alex out of here in one piece.

Castiel frowned, "I told you."

Did he not explain it well enough? Perhaps he translated it wrong?

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

Realization washed over Castiel. He stepped forward, his voice serious as he said, "Good things do happen, Dean."

"...Not in my experience." It was so painfully true that Dean almost regretted saying it.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked, honestly confused. He doesn't say the next part like a question. It's an answer as he looks closer into Dean's soul. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Dean doesn't answer. Instead, he hisses, "Why'd you do it?"

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

Tell me what you think!