A/N: This fic jumps right in at the end of the season 11 finale. Lots of whump ahead. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. I also borrowed a lot of dialogue from episodes 12x01 "Keep Calm and Carry On" and 12x02 "Mamma Mia."

Chapter 1

Sam pushed the bunker door open with its familiar grating screech. Home.

Didn't mean much without Dean. Now it was just a big, empty place. Isolated. Jeez, could Sam even stay here anymore? As much as he wanted to be alone to grieve, he also didn't want to be cut off from the world. The world his brother had just sacrificed himself to save.

"Sam, I'm so sorry," Cas said, trailing behind him. "If you want to talk…"

Sam couldn't bring himself to feel touched by the angel's effort, especially when Cas had to be feeling Dean's loss as distraughtly as him, but Sam just didn't have the capacity to consider anyone else's emotional state right now. He could barely deal with his own.

"I'm here if you need anything," Cas finished, obviously just as much at a loss.

"Hello, hello," a feminine voice spoke up from the darkness.

Before either of them could react, there was the crack of a gunshot, and Cas staggered. Sam jolted in surprise, and then gaped as a glowing blue light started oozing from Cas's stomach.

"Cas!"

Cas's knees buckled. Sam made an abortive attempt to catch him before his brain caught up, and he reached for the gun in his waistband instead.

But the woman who had fired first aimed her weapon at him. "Don't. Angel bullets work just as well on humans."

He froze, and then reluctantly brought his hands back out front, palms up. A glance down at Cas found the angel clutching his stomach as blood trickled between his fingers, his face pinched in pain.

"Sam Winchester," the woman spoke again, drawing his attention back to her. "Toni Bevell. Men of Letters, London chapter house."

Sam's brows rose incredulously, then narrowed. Wait, what?

"Oh, you won't have heard of me—us," she went on. "We're very traditional. Keep out of the way, keep to our studies."

Sam glanced at Cas again, who was looking up with equal bafflement. "You, um…what?"

There were more Men of Letters out there? Did that explain how she'd gotten into the bunker in the first place? But why was she pointing a gun at him? Why had she brought angel bullets and shot Cas on the spot?

"They sent me to take you in."

"To take me in?" Sam repeated. Was she serious?

"Assuming the world didn't end, and…" She shrugged with a forced smile. "Yay."

Sam looked down at Cas, bleeding on the floor, and some of his shock started to dissipate into anger. "Look, lady," he started, taking a step forward.

"We've been watching you, Sam," she interrupted. "What you've done, the damage you've caused—archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness, and now, well— the Old Men have decided enough's enough. I mean, let's face it, Sam. You're just a jumped-up hunter playing with things you don't understand and doing more harm than good."

Sam shook his head in dismay. Who the hell was she to lecture him about saving the world?

"Those things weren't the Winchesters' fault," Cas gritted out, trying to prop himself up on his elbow.

This Toni Bevell merely gave him a disinterested look. "Yes, well, orders are orders. I'm sure you can appreciate that." She turned back to Sam. "Now, where's Dean?"

Sam's throat tightened. If Dean were here, he wouldn't listen to this bullshit. And he'd shoot Miss Toni Bevell on the spot for attacking them. "Dead," he bit out.

Toni's gaze bored into him for a moment, probably trying to judge whether he was lying. But the hot moisture he could feel in his eyes and the way Cas ducked his gaze to the floor must have convinced her it was the truth.

Sam steeled his jaw. "Listen, lady," he said, raising a finger and taking a step forward. "I don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you want—"

She whipped her gun up. "Stop."

Sam didn't. He wasn't just going to stand by and let someone come into his home, shoot his friend, and tell him he was to be put on trial for everything he ever did with his life. "Put the gun down."

Her eyes hardened, and she squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed in the library, and searing pain tore through Sam's leg. Shock swallowed his gasp of surprise as he fell backward and hit the floor.

"Sam!" Cas shouted, and tried to push himself up.

Heels clacked across the tiles. "Stay down, angel. I have plenty of bullets, but would rather not kill you."

Sam gritted his teeth against the pain and clutched at his leg. He tried reaching for his gun.

"Ah-ah," Toni clucked. "Bring it out nice and slow, Sam, or I will put another bullet in your friend."

Sam craned his head up to see Toni standing over Cas, gun pointed at his head. Fury made his cheeks flush hotly, but he nevertheless slowly pulled his gun out and set it on the floor. Toni stepped over and kicked it out of reach. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone. After hitting one of the speed dials, she pressed it to her ear.

"Bring the car around."

So there was more than one of them. Sam threw an alarmed look at Cas, hoping the angel had some power up his sleeve that he could bounce back from that gunshot wound with and take out this bitch.

Cas's face was lined with pain, but he did look as though he were trying to muster the strength to fight back.

Yet before he could, Toni reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a syringe with some kind of dark red, viscous looking fluid. She plucked the cap off with her teeth, and dropped down next to Cas and jabbed the needle into his neck. Cas's eyes blew wide and his body went rigid.

"Cas!" Sam pushed himself upright.

Toni straightened and then stepped over Cas to come clock Sam in the side of the head with the butt of her gun. Stars burst in front of his eyes, and he fell back to the floor, vision going black around the sight of Cas seizing.

Lightning jolted through his body, and Sam came to with a scream and desperate gasp for air. A woman in a black, short-sleeve turtleneck and hair pulled back in a severe bun was standing over him with a cattle prod in hand.

"Be a good boy," she said with a smirk.

Sam jerked, only to feel resistance in his arms and feet. Glancing down, he found his ankles tied to the legs of the chair he was in, shoes and socks gone, and the clink of chains behind him let him know he was cuffed. His jeans were torn and blood stained, and he had a brief flashback of being stitched up by a vet of all people.

Cas! He'd been trussed up in the back of that SUV with Sam, though unconscious the entire time.

Blinking back some lingering dizziness, Sam quickly spotted the angel in the dark corner, wrists cuffed and suspended from a hook in the ceiling. His shins were scraping the concrete floor as he dangled, still out cold. A tourniquet had been wrapped around Cas's stomach, though it was soaked in blood. Sam recalled Toni telling the vet guy that Cas didn't need any medical attention. Sam had wanted to scream at them through his gag. No way that angel bullet was a through-and-through. But then, if they removed the bullet, Cas would be able to start healing, which it seemed Toni knew damn well.

Footsteps clopped down some rickety stairs, and Sam whipped his head up to find said bitch coming down.

"You." He wrenched at his bindings, scraping the chair legs slightly, but otherwise he was bolted down. He continued to struggle anyway.

Toni calmly walked over to a chair set across from him and sat down, pulling a book and pen from the table next to it into her lap. She uncapped the pen and had the gall to smile at him. "Now, Sam. Let's begin."

He seethed at her. "Toni Bevell, London chapter house."

"That's right," she said brightly, as though Sam had just done something that earned him a cookie.

"So, you're what? You're, uh, English Men of Letters?"

"British," she corrected sharply.

Sam rolled his eyes. Right.

Toni bent over her book to begin making notes. Sam shook his head in disgust and looked around the dingy cellar.

"Where are we?"

Toni quirked a look at him. "Does it matter?"

"Just wondering how far we're gonna have to walk back to town after I kill you," he said, matching her nonchalance. "And her," he added, nodding to the other woman. She rolled her eyes in a silent scoff.

Sam looked back at Toni with a little more vitriol. "But you first."

She gazed back at him, unamused. "Yes, well, before you murder us all," she said buoyantly, "we do have a few questions about you, your brother, hunters in America, and how you saved the sun."

Sam chuckled derisively and shook his head. "Right. You shoot me and my friend, kidnap us, but yeah, happy to help."

"I didn't want to hurt you, Sam. You gave me no choice."

"You shot Cas point-blank the moment we walked down the stairs," Sam snapped. With the one kind of bullet that could hurt an angel. If that didn't scream premeditated intent, Sam didn't know what did.

"It was a precaution. Angels can be very difficult to work with," she replied blandly. "And, well, I could say it was never supposed to go this way," she continued. "But you're…you. It was always going to go this way."

"And you know me?" he retorted.

"We do. We've been watching you and your brother for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer, the angels falling."

"Then where were you?" he accused. All this time, there'd been people out there—Men of Letters—who could have helped them? And now these people were going to sit in judgement just because Sam and Dean hadn't been able to save the world without some things going to hell? No, no way.

Toni cocked her pen at him and winked. "Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved, but the Old Men wouldn't allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all this business with the Darkness, even they have to agree, things need to change." She leaned forward earnestly. "And while you might not believe this, Sam, we're here to help."

He let out a scornful huff. "Yeah, no, I- I can tell." He tested his bonds again, but couldn't find any give. He was completely at the mercy of these women, and it infuriated him.

Cas suddenly let out a low groan. Toni lifted a brow and glanced over her shoulder. "Ms. Watts, would you take care of that, please?"

Sam's brow furrowed as he watched the woman in black retrieve a pre-loaded syringe from a bag of tools on the table. It had the same red liquid as the syringe Toni had used earlier.

Cas was starting to sway slightly as he fought his way to consciousness, but then Ms. Watts was jabbing the needle into the side of his neck and depressing the plunger. Cas grunted and then fell limp again.

"What did you give him?" Sam demanded. It wasn't normal for Cas to be out like this for so long, and even from where he was seated, Sam could see beads of sweat dampening the angel's hairline.

"Demon blood," Toni replied casually.

Sam felt the oxygen rush out of his lungs. What? He yanked against his chains. "He's already restrained!" Those handcuffs had Enochian sigils on them, not to mention the bullet in his gut. And Sam didn't even want to imagine what something like demon blood could do to an angel. Obviously, it was making Cas sick, but what if it was causing internal damage of some kind?

"These proceedings will go more quickly without any interruptions." Toni angled a condescending look at Sam. "I want to apologize for locking you up. You're dangerous—to others and yourself—but if you answer my questions, you walk right out that door." She flashed him a sickly false smile. "I promise."

Sam swallowed hard, unable to help glancing up at the door. "And Cas?"

"Him too," Toni replied readily.

Yeah, Sam didn't believe her for a minute. And he may not have had much left in this world, but he wasn't going to give up his honor.

"Pass."

"Sam…"

"You can ask me any kind of question you want," he cut her off. "The answer's gonna be the exact same—screw, you."

Toni's brows rose.

"You want to get mad?" Sam went on. "You want to get mean? I've been tortured by the Devil himself. So you, you're just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?"

Toni closed her book and placed the cap back on her pen. Then with a forced smile, she nodded to Ms. Watts. The woman turned where she was standing against the wall and cranked a faucet handle. There was the squeak of pipes as water rushed through them, and Sam quirked a confused look before he felt droplets plink on his cheek. Looking up, he found a sprinkler and hose had been rigged up above him, and was now pouring cold water down on his head.

"A cold shower?" Sam asked, spitting water from his mouth as his hair flattened down over his forehead. "That's your play?" He flipped his hair out of his eyes as it and his clothes quickly became soaked.

Toni said nothing, just continued to bore her gaze into him smugly.

The cold water seeped through his layers and into his skin, and Sam started to shiver. He glared at Toni Bevell.

"Screw you," he repeated.

Dean opened the bunker door for his mom, letting her step inside first. Her mouth hung open as she went to the railing and gazed at the war room below, and the study area just beyond that.

"You live here?" she asked with a hint of awe.

"Yeah, when we're not on the road," he replied. "It's an old Men of Letters bunker."

"Men of Letters?" she repeated.

"Yeah." He turned to lead the way downstairs.

"They're a myth. An old hunters' story," Mom protested as she followed.

"Not so much. New duds look good," he said, trying to divert the conversation from going down the road of the Men of Letters, of Dad having supposed to have been one before Henry Winchester had disappeared—to the future.

Things to explain were complicated enough as they were.

Mom huffed. "Well, thanks. It's better than walking around in that nightgown the rest…"

She trailed off as Dean came to a stop. There was blood splatter on the floor. Two separate ones, and then blood trails as though someone or something had been dragged. Dean tensed and looked out into the library, ears peeled for sounds of an intruder.

"That's blood," Mom said.

Dean's heart thudded in his rib cage. "Yeah." He drew his gun and cocked it, then started forward cautiously. "Sammy? Cas?"

There was no answer. There was no sound at all.

Dean turned and headed back into the war room, pausing at the map table to retrieve the gun strapped underneath. He handed it to Mom. "Take this," he instructed, still on guard. "Stay here."

"Dean," she hissed, but he ignored her, heading down another passage to make a circuitous route through the bunker.

"Sammy?" he called again. Where the hell were they? What the hell had managed to get into the bunker to attack them? And that blood had better belong to someone else…

It took him fifteen minutes to check the entire bunker, and there was no sign of Sam or Cas. Dean's chest constricted with mounting fear. Could they have escaped somewhere? Gone to take care of the bodies? But then why hadn't Sam been answering his phone this whole time? Dean had tried calling him, and Cas, several times to let them know he was still alive. The news about Mom, well, that was something better delivered in person.

Except Sam wasn't here, or Cas, and Dean had a really bad feeling as to why.

He made his way back to the study where Mom was waiting, gun lowered but at the ready. "They're not here," he said.

"They?"

"Sam and Cas."

"Is Cas another hunter?" Mom asked.

"Uh, no," Dean replied distractedly. "He's an angel."

"Come again?"

"You know, angel. Capital A. Wings, harp. His name is Castiel. We call him Cas." And the fact that it looked as though something had gotten a drop on his angel friend carved out a pit of dread in Dean's stomach.

He went to his laptop and opened it, immediately hacking into traffic camera footage. Sam and Cas obviously weren't here, and the Impala was in the garage, so either they'd taken another car, or were taken…

"Is that…a computer?" Mom asked.

"Yeah." He checked the timestamps starting last night, after Amara and Chuck had restored the sun, figuring Sam and Cas wouldn't have come back to the bunker until after they'd known the world was saved. He clicked through several street views, speeding up the footage to cover more time more quickly. Mom stood awkwardly behind him, watching.

"Got something," he finally said. "An SUV ran a red light a few blocks from here at 2:21am. And there wasn't another car for forty minutes." He tapped a few keys to get a close-up of the license plate.

"How did you do that?" Mom asked incredulously.

"I hacked the traffic cams," he said proudly.

Her brows rose in sharp dismay.

Dean quirked a smile. "Welcome to the future." He turned his attention to tracing that license plate.

"You think it's them?" Mom asked quietly.

Dean's jaw tightened. "It's worth a shot."

He did not just come back from dodging death and finding his mom brought back from the dead to lose his brother and best friend now.