Handprint from Hell.

Chapter 2.

Nightmares filled with the deep rumble of 'Dean, Dean, Dean' led him to believe he was being haunted by his time in Hell. There was more conversation, of course, but Dean could only make out a few words, those of which didn't help him understand what was going on.

"…Demon…the…Dean…angel…" The voice continued, Dean's name being the loudest. He couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the voice, however. It was like it surrounded him, at times far away or whispering in his ear.

He was standing in Hellfire, he assumed, as the black flames appeared almost alive. They required no fuel source and never burnt out. Dean couldn't see beyond them, but he could hear the frequent distant-sounding screams that pierced the air. The other voice, however, was a lot closer, and each word made Dean spin around as if to see the demon with the voice standing right behind him.

One last shout of 'Dean' jolted him from his sleep.

His head shot around the hotel room, identifying that both he and Sam were safe. A look at his phone (returned by Sam) showed it was only 0400. The voice still echoed around his head, left over from his dream.

This was only the second nightmare he'd had, but he was sick of them already. He'd much rather dream about something mundane, like pie.

His stomach growled at that, but Dean decided that four a.m. was too early for a pie run.

He laid back against the bed and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly in and out of his nose, a method he learnt from Sam for whenever he had trouble sleeping. Breathe in, 1, 2, breathe out. Slowly Dean began to relax and clear his mind.

He was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard it again.

Dean. This time the voice was clearer, sounding more familiar. Dean opened one eye to peer around the hotel room one last time, but before he could close it, the voice spoke again. See… It whispered. Protection.

He searched the room and found nothing even remotely symbolising a threat. Deciding that he was just paranoid after his nightmare, Dean decided that four a.m. was indeed a suitable time for pie.

Dean slipped back into his role as hunter with a familiar ease. He was able to help (and by help, he meant sit back and encourage Sam's inner-nerd) with the research that enabled them to locate that the mine was related to demon activity.

"Get this, apparently a guy back in the 40's sold his soul for the success of the mine." Sam said, as Dean practically inhaled the bacon cheeseburger he'd recently purchased. Dean hummed his response, and Sam continued. "And then for the next 60 years, there has been a similar accident to this each decade."

Dean attempted to pay more attention to his brother and the details of his hunt, but he was distracted by the voice that had not shut up since his dream this morning. He resisted reaching up to rub his temples as the voice grated on in unintelligible words. Nightmares were bad enough, why did he have to experience this throughout the day?

Shut up. Dean thought, before realising he was basically talking to himself.

"Dean?" Sam's voice broke through, and he looked over to see his younger brother looking at him worriedly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Dean replied. "Yeah, don't worry about me. Just didn't get enough sleep." Dean was fairly sure he'd slept for around twelve hours, actually, but the nightmares made it feel as though he'd stayed up all night banging his head on the stupid floral-print wallpaper.

"You should stay here while I go check out the mine." Sammy said, but Dean instantly refused.

"No way. No way in H-" Dean couldn't bring himself to say the word. "I'm not letting you go without back-up." It was obvious that Sam would be able to handle himself in that situation, but Dean's protectiveness kicked in.

Sam considered it for a second. "I suppose I could call Castiel."

It took Dean a few seconds to realize who 'Castiel' was. The fucking "angel" who had pulled him out of hell. With the baggy trench coat and piercing blue eyes.

Dean.

"Hey, what about Bobby?" Dean suddenly realized that he'd forgotten about Bobby since his return. He felt guilty instantly that he'd forgotten about his father-figure since he'd been back. He was excited to see the old man again. He wondered if much had changed.

"We're in Ohio, Dean." Sam said, as if that made perfect sense. "We only have a limited amount of time to find this demon before it disappears again-"

Dean nodded in agreement as he began to plan his trip to see Bobby. It would have to be after the hunt, of course. He wondered if Bobby would be happy to see him alive.

He could hear the faint sound of Sam talking in the background.

Bobby. He heard, and he continued nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, Bobby." He replied, and Sam looked over at him strangely.

"You say something, Dean?"

"Oh, ah. No, no. What were you saying?" Dean asked, looking away as Sam glared at him for not paying attention.

Secretly, Sam missed having his brother around, and he was glad that Castiel had been able to save him. "I was telling you about the interviews I had with the victims' families."

That left the only logical solution being the voice in Dean's head mentioning Bobby. Well, not that hearing voices was logical. But in this situation, it was. More words were floating around, mentioning this and that about demonic activity.

He decided that he'd just have to ignore the voice and focus on this hunt with Sammy. They decided that Dean should go look around the crime scenes and join Sam to talk with the people the victims were close to.

"I'm going to go shower." Dean said, grabbing his clothes before racing to the bathroom and shutting the door on Sam's face. Older brother privileges, of course!

As the hot water cascaded over his body, Dean attempted to make sense of what he'd found out through the voice that was constantly in his head. He had his eyes closed as he washed his body, listening to his name being repeated. However, as his hand moved over his shoulder, he received a bright white flash through his mind that lit up an old looking motel.

Motel. Dean could hear. Room 43.

He opened his eyes to stare as the dull white tiles in the shower, thinking that perhaps that's the white he saw, and that it wasn't anything like Sammy's visions. It wasn't impossible after his time in Demon Central. He finished his shower quickly after that.

In the mirror, Dean was surprised to see absolutely no scars on his body. None from the Hellhound or from any of the previous hunts he'd been on with Sammy. The only mark on his otherwise unblemished skin was the red handprint, from where Castiel had 'gripped him tight and raised him from perdition'.

Dean wondered why Castiel had saved him as he gently poked the mark, when suddenly Sam flashed before his eyes. Yes, of course. But what had Sam done in order for an angel to save his brother?

He dressed quickly and opened the bathroom door to see Sam staring into thin air.

"Sammy?" Dean called awkwardly, and Sam's head whipped around the room before looking at him. "Your turn for the shower." He decided to confront Sam when he finished in the bathroom. It didn't take long; Dean used up all the hot water like usual.

Sam started talking about the case as he walked out of the bathroom, information about those they were going to question. Dean cut him off. "Why was I buried?" He looked over to see Sam shuffling nervously. This question had been in his mind since he came back, as hunters were usually salted and burned to prevent the creation of a spirit.

"I knew you'd need your body when I brought you back."

Dean went to the fridge and grabbed two beers, knowing he'd need them for this conversation. Sam sighed, taking one before sitting on his bed. He took a sip before telling the story.

"I knew I had to get you back, Dean." Sam started. "Bobby wanted to salt and burn, the usual."

Dean interrupted. "How'd you escape Lilith? And what happened to Ruby?"

"Lilith seemed pretty keen to leave after the Hellhounds got you, taking Ruby with her. They've been gone since then." Dean nodded his head, accepting the answer. "I spent a long time trying to make deals to save you, Dean, but no demon would do it. Not a chance. I never gave up, though. I went everywhere, to every state. I met all types of psychics, pagan gods, everything, but nothing worked. Until suddenly, I received an answer."

Sam paused to take a drink, and Dean gripped his bottle tightly. His knuckles were white, much like the rest of his skin from his time 6 feet under.

"I prayed for you, Dean. Every day and every night. And I know you don't believe in that stuff," Sam said as Dean opened his mouth, "but it worked. One night I was visited by an archangel and a soldier, Gabriel and Castiel. Gabriel was gravely injured, and I was struck a deal."

Sam gulped the rest of his beer before getting up and pacing, dragging his fingers through his long hair. "I was to merge my life force with that of the archangel, and in return, Castiel would pull you out of Hell."

It took all of Dean's energy not to explode with rage at that point. But he trusted Sam, and owed it to him to hear him out.

Sam was babbling. "-probably think this was a bad move, but I needed you back, Dean, and Gabe isn't so bad-."

"So you went to Vegas and shacked up with an angel dude just to save me?" Dean cut in, thankful his words didn't express his emotions.

"Basically." He replied, shrugging. "But it worked! I got you back, Dean."

"And how'd you end up working a demonic case in Ohio?" Dean wondered why Sam hadn't been tracking Lilith or trying to find Ruby.

Sam went on to explain the conditions of the deal made with Gabe and Castiel, and how he'd continued hunting while they rescued Dean and searched for Lilith. He also told Dean about Bobby, who'd left after Dean had died. It was rumoured that he'd died, but Sam checked in regularly enough to know that he was more than likely just passed out from the excessive amounts of alcohol he drank.

Dean was shocked that Bobby didn't even look after Sam. That was all Dean had done, and Bobby knew that Dean would stop at nothing to protect his brother, so why hadn't he done what Dean couldn't?

Sam could sense Dean's anger. "He's had a rough time, Dean. He couldn't handle losing you."

Dean finally snapped. "So he didn't do anything for you?! You could have died!"

"But I didn't, Dean! I was fine, I am fine. I didn't need Bobby to protect me. I'm old enough to hunt by myself."

Dean began feeling just a little bit guilty. He had no reason to be angry at Bobby; he knew just how stubborn his little brother could be.

Sam knew his brother wouldn't be angry at Bobby for long. "I don't know the exact details of how Castiel rescued you. He wouldn't let me be there when he got you, said something about it being dangerous."

"So he stuck you on a demonic case? Good one, Cas." Dean snorted. His resurrection, or what he remembers of it, wasn't very dangerous.

If Dean was paying attention, he'd have noticed the small smile on his brothers' lips, but he was preoccupied with the fact that he hadn't heard any thoughts in a while. Any thoughts that weren't his own, that was. Currently, his own thoughts were racing, trying to piece together everything he'd found out.

Sam grabbed the keys and they walked out into the parking lot.

"Do I get to meet this 'Gabriel' guy?" Dean asked Sam, who looked at him in surprise. "What? You don't want me to meet your boyfriend?"

"Don't call him that." Sam said, sulkily, but the smile he shot Dean after that let him know he wasn't upset about it. He said nothing after that, and Dean had a feeling Sam didn't want him to meet this archangel.

(~*~)

"Officer Hawke, this is my partner, Detective Howe." Sam said as Dean flashed his badge at the short pudgy man. "And I'm Detective-"

"Scott, I remember." The officer said, his voice deeper than Dean would have suspected. "I still don't know why the FBI are involved." He muttered, more to himself. Sam smiled at him, acting as though he hadn't heard, while Dean walked over to a pin board that had the details of the case. There wasn't much; this was an 'accident' after all.

The police department had, as it seems, linked this case to the one from the 50's, and Dean's eyes trailed over the faces of the numerous victims of this accident. It seemed that there were survivors, which he made a mental note to talk to Sam about.

Suddenly, as though his good luck was running out, the voice popped back into his head.

Sam.

Dean whipped his head around, his green eyes seeking the tall form of his younger brother, still deep in conversation with the police officer. Was this voice like a warning system for demons? He navigated his way back to them, keeping an eye out in case of a sudden attack.

Dean.

He reached them as Officer Hawke was telling Sam about the victims. "There were eye witnesses?" Dean cut in, and the old man blinked up at him in surprise.

"Four." He responded gruffly. "Three of the miners, and a little girl."

"Reports on them?" Dean responded, eyes still sweeping around the small police station, as if suddenly someone would pull a knife on them.

The man waddled over to his desk. "Uh, one in a coma, one didn't see anything, and the other report is sketchy." He passed the folders over to Dean, who began to read them.

"Which report is missing?" Sam asked for him, already knowing the answer. It wasn't surprising that the next words out of Officer Hawke's mouth were "Little girl."

Dean pressed his hand to his temple as suddenly more words broke through his thoughts.

Danger. He heard. Stupid. The rest of the words were jumbled.

"Excuse me." Dean heard himself saying. He handed the folders over to Sam, who looked at him with a confused expression on his face before making up a story about a recent head injury that affected Dean's wellbeing.

"Should he be working?" Was the last thing Dean heard before he pushed open the glass doors, almost running into another officer. He didn't even apologize, he just pushed passed and turned into a nearby alley. He pressed the heels of his hands over his closed eyelids until he saw red.

The thoughts bombarded his brain; it sounded like most of them weren't in English. The pressure built up and was so intense that Dean groaned out in pain. He wished he could make the pain go away.

Suddenly, however, the thoughts stopped. Almost too hopeful, Dean removed the hands from his face.

He jumped back as he realized he wasn't alone, his head hitting painfully against the brick wall behind him. Surprisingly, it wasn't Sam in front of him. "What do you want, Cas?"

Castiel tilted his head to the right as he continued to look up at Dean. The hunter shifted nervously under the gaze but didn't look away.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dean. You called for me."

Before Dean could respond, Sam appeared. He looked between his brother and Castiel, who obviously didn't know about personal space. Dean tried to back up a little at the awkward situation, but he was already pressed against a wall.

"Castiel? I didn't know- Is something wrong?" Sam asked him, and Dean could see the worry in his face. Apparently Castiel knew what Sam meant, as he answered his unasked question.

"Gabriel is as well as can be expected." Sam let out a sigh of relief at this. "I am here for Dean."

"Personal space!" Dean blurted out, moving away from his position on the wall. "And how did you find me? I never called for you, Cas."

"You were praying for assistance."

"Not intentionally." Dean muttered as Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I didn't call the guy." He gestured in confusion as Sam continued to look at him.

"Whatever." Sam muttered in reply. Then, in an unforeseen turn of events, Sam walked over and put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, as if it was a normal thing to do, which it obviously wasn't.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel had his hand on Dean's shoulder and they whipped through the air. His hand was warm through Dean's layers of clothes.

Dean is very strange.

When they landed in the motel room a few short seconds later, Dean moved out from under Castiel's touch.

"You're very strange." He whispered back, to no one.

"Did you say something, Dean?" Sam asked, still worried about Dean after his reaction in the police station.

"No." Dean said. "No, I didn't."

He turned away and headed to his bed, his back turned against Castiel's very confused and quizzical stare.