Title: Holy Angel, Batman!
Fandom: Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean/Castiel of course.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Swearing. Being evil to lawyers? Violence. Graphic smut in later chapters.
Spoilers: Vague spoilers up to season 6 but to be honest this is AU so you're safe.
Word Count: 2,605
Summary: "Dean isn't the only one who is batman, Cas has an arch-nemesis and Sam should have realised that it was an inevitably consequence of becoming a lawyer."

A/N: This is written for my friend Dynetyven for her bday yesterday. She wanted evil!Sammy with possible Dean/Cas so typically I wrote neither of them and came up with this. I never usually write fanfic so this isn't very good. More to be written later if it is okay.

Dean doesn't know what brought him to Lawrence, Kansas. There is no real reason only that it is better than nowhere and it isn't like he has anywhere to be in a long time. He booked into a motel, nicer than the ones that he is used only because there are no obvious stains on the sheets. He throws his duffle down onto the bed and then is at a loss of what he should do.

It is gone eleven o'clock in the evening but he isn't close to tired, not that he finds sleep much of a comfort ever since… There have been signs of demonic activity in the area, well there have been signs of demonic activity in every area but it seems to be concentrated around Kansas and more particularly in Lawrence and Dean wants to find out why.

He decides to head to a local diner. The TV in the motel room is crap and even though the twenty-four hour places are usually the worse, it is better than being on his own. He won't admit it consciously but even spending time with drunk students and bored waitresses is better than facing another room where he has ordered two queen beds for no reason at all.

He is too wrapped up in his own head, thinking about Dad and thinking about Sammy to see the thing in the sky. It isn't something that would happen outside of comic books and movies based on the comic books but there is a signal light in the sky. A huge circle of light with a pair of wings cast into it creating a silhouette. Dean is oblivious to all of this as he enters into the diner.

As he expected, there are a group of rowdy drunk people sat in one corner. One of the boys keeps beckoning an exhausted looking waitress for stupid tasks that the rest find hilarious. Dean wants to go over to them and tell them to lay off but he doesn't really want to cause a scene and the problem with drunks is that they can easily become nasty. Dean just sits in the furthest corner of the room and waits for the waitress to be finished with those douches and take his order. His is too busy studying the menu to notice a black-haired man in a tan trench coat come into the room.

The waitress is carrying a bottle of ketchup, the third for their table when one of the girls stands up quickly. She is wearing next to nothing and it isn't exactly warm in the diner but she doesn't seem to mind. It isn't her lack of clothes that has got Dean's attention, it is the long knife in her hands. It's already stained with blood, dried into the blade. The waitress doesn't see it until it is too late.

Then everything happens to quickly. The girl grabs the waitress roughly by the throat and mutters something that Dean cannot hear from across the other side of the room. The waitress kicks and screams but she is about sixty-five and short and has nothing on the younger woman. Dean is on his feet in seconds. He has a gun, of course, and several knives hidden on his person. These aren't safe times and no one goes around without packing anymore. Dean isn't sure what to do though. He's never shot a human that wasn't possessed by a demon. He doesn't have to worry about that for very long as the girl's eyes flash black and then he knows what he has to do, even if he is ridiculously outnumbered. He couldn't stand by and watch an innocent woman being used like that. He would rather go to hell again than do that.

He draws his gun. It won't work on the demons that is for sure but perhaps piss them off. He hasn't got any Holy Water and he has left his exorcism book in the motel. He is stupidly unprepared. There are about twenty of them and one of him. This fight isn't going to go into his favour. Nevertheless, he has never been accused of thinking these things through so of course he goes rushing in without a thought or a care to the fact that he is about to be beaten into a pulp.

Only that isn't exactly how things go. Before he has chance to get even close to the woman, they are on him. He is surrounded. He wouldn't be able to get through to the waitress without killing at least six male demons, all who look like line backers. They aren't even the dangerous ones. The waitress is seconds from becoming an ex-waitress and Dean has no choice but to shoot the sons of bitches.

He manages to unload a full round into them but they just laugh at him. He is royally screwed. His only been out of hell two months, he isn't ready to face that ordeal all over again but it seems like that is the way that it is going. One of the demons grab hold of him and throw him against the wall. He hits it with enough force to make a sizeable dent and he is losing consciousness quickly. He last image that he has before everything goes black is the trench coat.

He wakes sometime later. It is impossible to tell whether or not it is night or day because as far as he can tell, there are no clocks around him and there are no windows either. The room is unlike any other then he has ever been in. It looks like the sort of thing he would expected to see inside Buckingham Palace not somewhere in Kansas. Everything look expensive and so breakable. Old paintings of battle scenes have been hung on the wall and Dean suspects that if he knew anything about art, then he would be drooling all over it. He doesn't and to him it is just a bunch of weird paintings.

He is lying, not on a bed but a sort of chez lounge which makes him feel immediately ridiculous. It is gold and covered with red satin. Dean would be off it in a second if this isn't just the most comfortable he has felt in his entire life. He doesn't hurt like he expected to and he thinks that he feels really rested, like he managed to sleep more than four hours. It is strange. It would be so much better if he knew where he was.

"Hello Dean," a deep gravelly voice says. Dean immediately sits up sensing a trap. He grabs his knife, which he is surprised hasn't been taken from him and turns to face the person there. Dean is expecting something impressive, a scary looking dude with a large gun, a demon with a grudge, anything other than what is actually in front of him. He is shorter than Dean with messy black hair and clear blue eyes and a bloody trench coat. He looks as scary as a four year old girl. Well, then again, he has some bad experiences with demon-possessed girls so that isn't saying much.

"Who are you?"

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," the man replied, in a deep proclaiming tone. Dean is confused. He has been trying for months to work out what pulled him out of the pit but without any help, it had been dead end after dead end and he hadn't been hoping that he would ever discover the truth. He had just been glad that it hadn't turned around and bit him on the ass so far. Now he is faced with demon that had enough juice to pull him out of the pit. He knows he should be grateful but survival instinct kicks in first.

"Thanks for that," he mutters as he plunges the knife into the man's chest. The man looks at the knife in a mixture of confusion and triumph. It doesn't hurt him but then it is only a normal knife, it wouldn't hurt most demons. The man just pulls it out and drops it, blood-coated to the floor. It lands between them with a clang. Dean could easily pick it up and try again. The wound however seems to have healed completely which is fast even for a powerful bastard. It's not a demon. Dean would already be dead if it was. "Who are you?" Dean asks.

"Castiel."

"I mean what are you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord," the man replies and yeah right is what Dean thinks.

"Get out of here, there is no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean, you have no faith," the man replies. The lights flicker in the room and lowered then the wall behind the man filled with the shadows of a great pair of wings. Dean isn't just about to believe that the creature is an angel just because it says it is one. The wings could be an illusion. Demons play tricks and lie all of the time. If the man – Castiel – whatever isn't going to tell him what he is, then Dean will just have to find out for himself.

"What were you doing at the diner?" Dean asks. He doesn't remember much apart from having the crap beating out of him. The so-called angel could have been fighting against him.

"I had been summoned there. The city often calls me when there are demon problems. They send a light into the sky and I know that I am needed. This was the work of my arch-nemesis," Castiel explains and there are so many things wrong with that sentence that Dean bursts out laughing.

"What are you Batman?" Dean asks as he tries to catch his breath.

"I do not understand that reference," Castiel replies looking at Dean confused. "I have wings but I do not take the form of a bat. I do not understand how that would be useful when fighting demons." Castiel says it with such a straight face that Dean ends up just laughing more.

"He doesn't turn into a bat, he's… you know what, never mind," Dean replies. Dean looks around him and realises he doesn't know where the hell he is. He repeats the question to Castiel.

"This is my home on Earth. It is necessary to have a place on this realm from which I can work from when it is needed," Castiel answers. Dean looks at the place once more and wonders why anyone would want to live in a room like this. It is the sort of place that belongs in museums. "It reminds me of heaven," Castiel adds without being prompted.

"So who is this nemesis of yours?"

"I believe you know who he is." Castiel pauses. Dean just stares at him waiting impatiently. "He is your brother, Samuel Winchester."

Dean doesn't think. He just punches Castiel in the face. He hasn't heard from his brother since he left the family business for Stanford all those years ago. He hadn't heard from Sam when their dad died. He hadn't heard from Sam when had called all those times in his last months before going to hell. His brother is MIA. He isn't about to listen to some supposed angel, possible demon tell him that he is fighting against him.

Only punching Castiel is like punching a brick wall and Dean breaks two of his fingers. Castiel mutters apologises before healing the broken digits. Arsehole. No person is that nice. Dean only wishes he has Holy Water. The angel's hand is still on his even after the healing is done. He doesn't know what that means.

"Your brother has been leading the armies of hell against Heaven for some time now. I had expected that it must have come to your attention by now," Castiel explains like Dean is the exceptionally slow child in the class and yeah, maybe Dean is still hung up on the idea that Castiel has a bat signal and he thought his life couldn't get more strange.

"He is my brother, he wouldn't do that!" Dean protested. He had raised Sam himself. Sam was Mr Sensitivity. He was all about caring, hugs and touchy feely moments that made Dean's skin crawl. Sam wouldn't kill spiders when he was a little boy because he believed that they didn't go anything wrong and so they shouldn't be punished. Dean shakes his head.

"He isn't your brother anymore. He's a lawyer," Castiel rebukes like it explains everything. Dean is just confused.

"He can still be a lawyer and my brother."

"No. You don't understand the nature of that profession. For a person to become a lawyer, they have to sell their soul."

"That's just one of those things people say," Dean scoffs.

"It is true. Lawyers are really heartless, soulless creatures." Castiel paused, truly thinking about what he is going to say next. "Your brother was the one that sent you to hell.

"Yeah dude, whatever," Dean remarks. This has just got too weird for him. He wants out. "See you later dude or you know, hopefully never." Dean heads for the door. Castiel doesn't even try to stop him. He just looks as he has throughout the conversation, like a dick.

"We will be seeing each other very soon," are the last words Dean says as he walks out.

He isn't followed as he walks through the corridors which are decorated just as the room had been. It is confusing to say the least as there are just door after door after door, all exactly the same. Dean isn't about to give up though and return to Castiel, if he could find him again, and ask for directions. Dean would rather having a meaningful conversation. He manages to get out finally.

It is bright outside and on the outskirts of Lawrence. From the outside, Dean can tell that it is one of those huge houses that cost millions that rich businessmen buy to show off. The grounds are huge and there is even a fountain. Well, there is no point of having a bat cave if it isn't impressive.

Dean returns back to the motel and truly contemplates what Castiel has told him and as of that he immediately turns on the magic fingers and watches Casa Erotica and tries to forget about the angel all together and his oddly comforting hands.

Dean is almost asleep again when he hears something in his room. He is drowsy even though it is still the middle of the day and for a second he cannot make sense of it but he would recognise that mop of brown hair anywhere and that ginormous body.

"Sam?" he asks confused. It's definitely Sam but how?

"Yeah Dean, it's me," Sam replies. It sounds like Sammy and it looks like him. Dean just grabs hold of him and pulls him into a hug.

"Why are you here Sammy? And where have you been?" Dean demands. He knows he shouldn't look this gift in the mouth but he needs some answers.

Sam pulls back. "I heard that you met Castiel," Sam starts. It is strange because Dean hasn't been back for more than a couple of hours, how did Sam find out so fast? "You know you shouldn't believe anything that he says."

"I know, Sammy," Dean replies and hugs his brother again. Totally in a manly way of course. What he doesn't see is his brother's eyes flicker completely black.