A year had passed since Dean and Castiel killed Dick Roman and ended up in Purgatory. Dean swore to fight his way back and he did, tooth and nail. He came to the surface somewhere in Maine, dirty and battle hardened. After stealing provisions from a couple of campers, he made the long journey south to Louisiana.

Purgatory was like a constant battle and Dean wouldn't have survived without the help of a vampire named Benny Lafitte. Dean never expected himself to come to trust his life in a vampire's hands, but Benny proved himself and Dean owed him. His gratitude came at the price of a ride out of Purgatory, which Dean happily paid.

The ritual was simple enough. Dean located Benny's bones near an old windmill in Clayton, Louisiana. He cut open his arm and let the glowing red bulge, which was essentially Benny, drip down onto the bones below before chanting in Latin. By the end of the ritual, Benny was corporeal. After a quick hug and a vow from Benny to stay out of trouble, Dean set off for his real destination. He needed to find Sam and Martha.

When Dean reached Rufus's cabin in Montana, he felt a momentary sense of relief. He was home or at least the closest thing he had to it. He was half expecting to see them both waiting for him, but the cabin was practically in the same condition they had left it in before they headed off to Chicago to gank Dick Roman.

Dean spent the next hour calling every number he had for Sam and Martha, half of which were out of service. Finally, he managed to get in contact with Sam who told him that he was in Kermit, Texas. Sam didn't say much, figuring it was better to catch up in person, but he did tell Dean that Martha wasn't with him.

Dean tried not to assume the worst. As strange as it sounded, he felt like if something had happened to Martha he would have sensed it. And Sam definitely would have said something. Unless that was the reason they needed to talk in person. No. Dean shook that thought off. Sam and Martha could have just been working separate cases. She was good enough to handle herself solo. That was probably it.

Or maybe she returned to Chicago. Her old apartment was one of the numbers he called to no avail, but that didn't mean she couldn't have moved somewhere else. He made the promise that they would have a normal life once Dick Roman was destroyed. She could have just gone on ahead with the plan.

Dean forced that idea out of his head as well. The thought of her moving on without him was almost as painful as the thought of something bad happening to her. He didn't want her to suffer, but part of him didn't want her to be happy without him either. Well that was a twisted line of reasoning, wasn't it?

A day and a half later, Sam finally completed the journey from Texas to Montana. Dean greeted him in true hunter fashion. Sam barely had time to react before Dean slammed him to the ground and doused him with holy water.

"I'm not a demon," Sam protested. Dean followed the holy water with Borax. "Or a Leviathan," Sam continued just as Dean grabbed his arm and cut it with a knife. Sam winced from the pain. "Not a shifter either."

"Good." Dean said with a satisfied nod as he stood up. "My turn. Come on." He held the bottles of holy water and Borax out for Sam to take. "Let's go."

Sam shook his head and pulled himself up from the ground. "I don't need to, Dean. I know it's you."

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean exhaled sharply and proceeded to splash himself with the holy water and Borax then rolled up his sleeve and cut his own arm. "All right," he said with a smile as he bound his arm. "Come here." Dean pulled him into a tight hug.

"Dude! You're freaking alive." Sam exhaled and ran his hands through his hair. "What the hell happened?"

"I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory," Dean answered.

"You were in Purgatory for the whole year?"

Dean nodded. "Time flies when you're running for your life."

Sam dropped his hands to his sides. "How'd you even manage to get out?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there any more than I did."

"What about Cas?" Sam pressed. "Was he there? Where is he now?"

Dean clenched his jaw at the question. He turned his back to Sam and picked up some random object to avoid looking at him. "Cas didn't make it."

"What exactly does that mean?"

Dean exhaled sharply and set the thing in his hands back down. "Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end and he just…let go."

"Are you saying that Cas is dead? You saw him die?"

"I saw enough."

"Well if you're not sure then—"

Dean turned to face him again. "I said I saw enough," he said more firmly.

"Sorry," Sam averted his gaze.

Dean nodded. "Me too." He stared at Sam and shook his head. "I can't believe you're actually here. I thought you'd have Martha with you though," he confessed. "You know that half your numbers are out of service?"

Sam sighed. "I ditched the phones."

"Why?"

"Actually…" Sam managed a weak smile. "I don't hunt anymore."

"What?" Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You quit?"

"Well yea," Dam answered. "You were gone, Dean. Cas was gone. Bobby was dead. Crowley shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown. Martha was around for a bit, but then she went back to England."

"What?" Dean frowned. "Are you telling me you haven't seen Martha in a freaking year?"

"It's not like I abandoned her," Sam said defensively. "You weren't around. She was depressed, man. And obsessed with finding you."

"And you weren't?" When Sam didn't immediately answer, Dean scoffed. "We always told each other not to look for each other, right? That's smart. Good for you," he said bitterly.

Sam sighed. "Dean…"

Whatever Sam was about to say, Dean wasn't in the mood to hear it right now. "Where is Martha now?" he demanded.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't spoken to her in about six months, but the last time we talked, she told me that if I ever needed to reach her in case of emergency, I should contact this friend of hers named Jack Harkness."

"Jack?" Dean paused to think. "I think I remember her mentioning him. Where's the number?" Sam reached into his pocket and retrieved a business card.

Dean took the card from Sam and studied it. "Let's see what he knows."

It didn't take long for them to arrange a meeting with Jack. They met him a few hours later in an abandoned parking lot in Chicago. Jack was just as Martha had described him right down to the smile.

"The famous Winchesters!" Jack greeted them with a huge smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam."

"You know Martha told me about you, but she never said you were so attractive," Jack told him. "Then again we've always had similar taste in men."

Dean scoffed softly. "Sorry, but you're not my type."

Jack laughed. "Dark hair. Blues eyes. Long coat. From the stories I've heard, I'd say I'm exactly your type." He looked around. "I'd love to meet the famous Castiel face to face. Is he here too?"

Dean eyed Jack suspiciously. "Martha told you about Cas?"

"I'm one of her best friends. Martha tells me practically everything."

"Even about the sex tape?"

Sam frowned. "Sex tape?" he repeated close to Dean's ear.

Jack nodded. "Oh! I remember that story vividly!" he assured him with a huge grin.

"That's funny," Dean said as he drew Ruby's knife and Sam instinctively followed suit by pulling his gun. "Because Martha would kill me if I even suggested such a thing."

Jack laughed. "Okay, you got me. She doesn't tell me everything."

"How about you tell me what really going on?"

"How about I show you?" Jack suggested right before his eyes flashed black. "Surprised?" he asked with a smirk. "We knew you'd try to contact that whore of yours sooner or later. So I jumped this freak show a few months ago and bided my time waiting for the perfect chance to kill the lot of you," the demon inside Jack explained. "Too bad you didn't bring Castiel with you, but I'll get to him and that bitch once I'm done with you two."

"I wouldn't count on that," Dean retorted and plunged the knife into Jack's chest. Before Dean could retract the blade, suddenly they were encircled by a caravan of black vehicles. People came rushing towards them from all directions dressed head to toe in black and carrying guns. Dean reached for his gun as he and Sam assessed the situation.

"Demons?" Sam asked.

"They look like mercenaries," Dean retorted as his eyes quickly moved from person to person trying to figure out an exit strategy.

"They're not mercenaries, love. They're soldiers," a voice came from within the crowd.

Dean lowered his gun a bit. "Martha?"

"At ease," Martha said, emerging from the sea of soldiers who obediently lowered their weapons and waited for orders. "These two aren't a threat," Martha added as she glanced down at the spot where Jack's body had fallen. "Dean Winchester…" She shook her head and glanced up at him with a hint of a smile. "Why is that I always find you standing over a corpse doing something you're not supposed to do?"