Chapter One

A high pitched ringing filled his head as Sam Winchester opened his eyes. He could only make out fuzzy white light and the movement of few shadows. Grimacing, he squeezed his eyes shut once again, his hands instinctively covering his ears. His whole body felt like it had been bruised beyond repair, his bones felt like they were burning to ash.

Across the room, a disheveled man in a blue jacket noticed that his brother was stirring. Running over, Dean Winchester put a hand over his brother's forehead and a thermometer under his patient's tongue.

"Sammy! Sam, wake up! It's me! It's De-" Sam turned to face him. His eyes were still closed as the pain continued to sear through his body. Sam Winchester then proceeded to hurl off the side of the bed and into his brothers lap. Dean stood up immediately in disgust.

"Seriously!?" He yelled.

"… Shut up…" Sam murmured and rolled over. The ringing in his ears stopped abruptly, the pain in his bones began to fade. "What the hell happened?" Sam asked after a moment, and opened his eyes to see his brother standing over him looking extremely unimpressed with the events that had just occurred.

"You uh, you just threw up on me like a friggin two year old, that's what just happened." Sam sat up, his head pounding, and Dean continued to talk. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that you got out of the whole coma thing, but never do that to me again or I'll make sure you stay sleeping next time."

The empty threat was over and Dean sighed in relief that his brother woke up from his 7 day long nap. Sam chuckled lightly, and recognised that they were in a bedroom in the bunker they uncovered from the Men of Letters about a year ago.

"How long was I out?" Sam asked, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Seven days… Seven whole days. We thought we were going to have to start feeding you through a tube. Speaking of which, I'm gonna go make us some burgers." Dean faced the door.

"We?" Sam inquired. "Who's we?"

"Well," Dean turned back around again. "The Tran man is still here with the old Angel tablet and… Cas." Dean had a solemn look to his eyes.

"Cas is here? Why, what happened to him?" Sam was curious and could pick up on his brother's sadness easily.

"Why don't you get all washed up and ask him yourself, okay? I want to get changed out of my puke soaked pants and then I want food." Dean left the room. Sam stood up off the bed, trying to find his balance.

Dean poked his head in quickly. "Glad you're okay, man." Sam smiled, and Dean was gone again.

There were still mounds of questions that Sam had thought of since waking up, but he accepted the fact that he had to be patient. He noticed he smelled like old sweat and blood, a stench that made even him cringe. Those questions could wait, but his stink could not. He made his way to the washroom.

Meanwhile in the library, a young man hovered over large piece of stone, whispering to himself and scratching the back of his head. A man in a long trench coat sat across from him, uneasy with having a lesser amount of privileges than he once had. Seeing Dean walk out of one of the bathrooms in the compound, Castiel, former Angel of the Lord, walked toward one of the only people he considered to be a friend.

"Dean, how is Sam. I heard you two talking." Castiel had issues making questions sound like questions, lately though he noticed that he felt compelled to make tonal changes in his voice as he talked. That was something that the new human part of him felt the need to have in his speech. It still required practice, nonetheless.

"Surprisingly, he seems alright… I have to be honest, Cas, I didn't even think he was going to wake up." Dean confessed. "But hey, he's here, so things can't be so bad."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows.

"I wish I could see what happened inside of him. It's hard for me to understand that he could be cured by now. I mean no disrespect to Sam, but he still has an opportunity to close the gates of hell, so the power that went into him before the third trial may still be inside of him somewhere eating away. He could, theoretically continue to get worse or at least stay the way he was when he was coughing up blood."

"Gee, Cas, you really know how to make me feel better" Dean said with a sarcastic smile.

"No problem, Dean, but I'm confused as to how that information could make you feel any better about this situation."

Dean rolled his eyes and entered the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer for himself and offered one to Castiel which he held up his hand to decline. Castiel had to rely on Dean more than ever this past week, ever since he needed to be picked up in the Impala where Metatron had left him on Earth. Human nature was tricky business if you weren't born into it, but then, he already knew a thing or two about that.

"I am also concerned about Crowley." Castiel started.

"Doesn't matter, he can't go anywhere in that dungeon. I ain't worried, not yet. Unless Abaddon comes looking, Crowley's in the perfect spot to question him." Dean took a swig and set his bottle down on the counter. "Or trade him over for our lives- one of which I'm sure will happen eventually. I bet he's still got more than just a pinch of that evil in him. I'm never letting that bastard out of those cuffs and chains."

Castiel nodded in understanding. At that moment Kevin Tran wandered into the kitchen looking solemn.

"What's up, kiddo?" Dean asked, while putting frozen meat patties in a hot frying pan.

"Metatron's powers aren't helping me out anymore. I've been at that thing for a whole week and I can't make anything out. Not even so much as a symbol." Kevin put his elbows on the counter, his hands behind his head. Dean subtly nodded to Castiel, comforting was not an area he chose to wander into. Seeing the opportunity to train as being more human, Castiel put a hand on Kevin's back. Noticing the prolonged touch began to make the former mathlete uncomfortable.

"What- what are you doing?" Tran asked, standing upright. Castiel tried to smile, turning out to be more of a smirk and began patting Kevin Tran on his back.

"It's okay, I'm comforting you." Castiel was grinning now. Kevin rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to have a nap. Call me when food's done." He said and left without turning back.

"Will do." Dean said.

"Did I do well?" Castiel asked. Dean just gestured the 'OK' symbol and smiled lightly, and turned back toward the stove.

"Hey Kev-" Sam walked past Kevin on the way in to meet the others in the kitchen, Kevin barely acknowledging him. Sam gave up and joined the others.

"So catch me up." Sam said. "What happened for the week I was M. I. A.?"

Castiel turned to him. "M. I. A?"

Sam blinked, realizing his mistake. "Missing in action. What happened when I was gone?"

"Ah, well, thousands of angels began to fall from heaven. They are completely powerless. Metatron probably has full control over heaven by now. With no archangels to fight back, I just hope the rest of heaven is okay." Castiel explained. Dean slid his brother a beer.

"Wait, so if all the angels are powerless, that means that you-"

"Yes I am completely powerless as well. Metatron stole my grace and sent me back here. He betrayed my trust and casted out all angels. All that time, I thought I was doing the right thing… again." Castiel shifted his head in shame, the memories clouding him over. "But, at least my memory wasn't wiped. From what I've read about the John and Jane Does that have been popping up everywhere, they have no memory of where they came from or who they were. Although, I've noticed that I often wish I had no memory of what I caused to happen."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Cas." Sam said apologetically. Dean was chopping up a tomato when he joined in too. "So those lights in the sky, those were the angels…"

Dean nodded. "And then I had to haul your blood soaked ass, and Crowley's blood soaked ass and Cas all the way back here to sort everything out."

Sam looked at Dean, eyes wide. "Crowley?" Sam asked, confused and angry at the name. "You brought Crowley back here?!"

"Safest place to keep him, Sammy. For now at least." Dean waved his arms, the kitchen knife, catching some glare. "And now we're all one big freakin' happy family!"

"With a demon in the basement" Castiel added.

"And thank you, Debbie Downer." Dean replied.

"What is a 'Debbie Downer', I'm confused." Castiel asked.

"Don't worry about it, Cas." Sam said. "What happens if Abaddon finds this place, Dean?! It could be torn to shreds- we'll all be torn to shreds!"

Dean ignored the question.

"Food's up!"

"Well, well, well, isn't it great to have the old gang back together." Crowley greeted the three men, his back against a cold, stone wall and shackles at his hands and feet. He put on a mockingly innocent face and looked at Sam, "We missed you, Moose. I've missed you. You were my saviour, I've seen the error of my ways now, you see-"

"Save it, knucklehead" Dean cut in. Crowley's face turned sour.

"Really? Knucklehead? That's the best you've got in that pea sized vocabulary of insults, Dean?" Crowley tutted, "I expect more from you, you know, after all we've been through together."

Dean's fist found the side of Crowley's face.

"Crowley, I see you found your way back to your old self" Sam greeted. "Only took you a week."

"That's the beauty about demon blood, boys, it can take over anything if given enough time." Crowley eyed Sam, remembering his last encounter with the Winchester. "Actually it was really only a matter of days since I got back to being cranky old me. How wonderfully freeing that was…"

"Last I checked, Crowley, you still didn't tell us anything about this Abaddon demon. So we're going to try one last time to get information out of you." Dean warned, pulling out the demon-killing knife.

"Well you can't blame me for saving the good stuff until I had a full house, now can you? I love having a big audience." Crowley seemed to be basking in the glory.

"Then tell us what you know about Abaddon" Sam commanded. "From what I remember, you two don't have the most solid of friendships."

"Abaddon was always a high class demon, knight of hell, so of course she loved to get her hands bloody when she could. Ol' Lucy picked her out himself, but she was proud and jealous." Crowley paused. "The only reason why I tell you anything is because I want my place back as king. A run of the mill demon knife barely pinches her. The story goes the same with an angel's blade. But…" Crowley got a glimmer in his eye. "I know of a way that can reduce her to nothing but dust."

"I'm guessing you would like to trade your information for a way out then?" Dean implied.

"Oh, if you would be so kind" Crowley smiled.

"Not happening" Dean shut him down.

Crowley's smile disappeared. "Look, I can tell you how to do it, and hell, I'm fine with helping out along the way. Abaddon has been nothing but a pain for the last three hundred odd years for me and I would love to see her bite the dust just as much as you."

Sam questioned the demon's motive for hating Abaddon as much as he did. "Why?" He crossed his arms.

"Because she's a thorn in my side and she's probably already taken my place and ruling over hell as we speak!" Crowley became red in the face.

Sam stopped him. "But you said she was a pain for the last three hundred years. You never had the throne back then. This doesn't have to do with the throne in hell, now does it?"

"Don't be stupid, of course it does!" Crowley took a breath. "...Abaddon and I were involved." He admitted.

Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows in surprise. Castiel's were still knit together since he came in and he continued to stand in silence.

"It was a very long time ago!" He looked from face to face. "For a while we had this idea, that eventually there would be a time where Lucifer would rise and one of us would have to take his place. If it was her, she would take me to be her king and vice versa. But things went horribly wrong when she realized I was fooling around with one of the cross-roads demons and BAM! Like that I was demoted to a cross roads demon." Crowley chuckled. "Eventually, I worked my way up to being King. It was great to see her face when she realized how much she missed from that sixty year jump across time that she took."

"Yeah the jealous crazed ex-girlfriends are always the most terrifying" Dean agreed. "But we don't care about your little drama in the underworld. We want to know how to gank her for good."

"Why? So that you don't have to play hide and seek anymore in the rabbit hole? Tough. I'm not about to tell you anything until we have a deal." Crowley held up his arms in display. "And that includes getting me out of these chains!"

Dean and Sam traded glances and silence fell in the dungeon. Castiel piped up.

"I'll make him talk." He walked in front of Dean.

"Cas, what the hell are you going to do?" Dean asked with a look of concern. Castiel rolled up the sleeves of his old trenchcoat, staring at Crowley with an unfaltering gaze.

"Well it's about time I talked to the little angel that couldn't" Crowley mocked.

"Shut up, you ass, and tell me how to kill Abaddon."

"Learned your first swear, I see. Getting used to being the plain version of Castiel? Feeling the pressure to fit in?"

"That's none of your concern Crowley" Castiel felt the burn of embarrassment well within him.

"Then what is? Are you going to slap me around a little? Hope that I talk just to impress your boyfriends?" Crowley was clearly enjoying the verbal play. "Why don't I just switch the topic over for a moment… Where is God, Castiel?" Crowley's eyes glowed in wonder.

Castiel tilted his head like a confused animal. "This has nothing to do with-"

"Because I can tell you where he is," Crowley taunted.

"Don't be ridiculous," Castiel scowled. "You know nothing."

"Oh really? Well, then it looks like you and me both 'know nothing', now don't we?" Crowley continued slowly, enjoying the game that he started.

"Be quiet." Castiel started. Dean moved over concernedly.

"Let me tell you where I think God is, Castiel," the demon's accent loomed over the room. "I think he's enjoying himself, sitting on the sidelines, watching his pathetic little creature dance himself from angel, to human, and back again, over and over and over. You even turned yourself to jello after the Leviathans had their way with you, just to see if you could make up for all the crap you conjured."

"I've paid my penance, now shut up!" Castiel became red hot with anger. It was a new feeling.

"The worst part is that after everything you've been through, he brings you right back, doesn't he? Just to watch the rerun of poor little Cas' life." Crowley laughed. "And even when Lucifer rose to the plate, when Michael went down to confront him, and when your own brothers and sisters were dying all around you, where was he, Cas? Where was your Father, your precious God?" Crowley glanced at Dean and then to Sam. His eyes grew wider with excitement over his speech. "He doesn't care, boys. To him, you're all rag dolls, dancing away for his entertainment. All the while, he's sitting there laughing, and laughing and laugh-"

Castiel was seeing red. His arms blurred with the repetitive motion of punches. There were probably ten or so punches into Crowley's face before Dean attempted to pull him off.

"No Dean!" Castiel swung his arms and pushed Dean away forcefully and took Dean's Demon knife. Dean was left with a look of surprise and gestured to Sam to help him. Castiel went back to the punching bag that was Crowley.

"That is MY Father you are talking about! That's my family!" Castiel stabbed Crowley through his right leg. Crowley let out a loud cry. Then the former fallen angel was dragged by the two men behind him and out of the dungeon, but not before retrieving the knife that was now covered in a thick amount of demon blood.

"Cas! What the hell is wrong with you!?" Dean forced the knife out of Castiel's hand. "You can't just saunter in there and expect to beat information out of that guy. He did that on purpose. You do understand that much, don't you?" Dean lectured. Castiel looked down at the base of the metal shelves that held cases upon cases of monsters and the like. He felt good about hitting Crowley. But he felt... guilty. Even though he couldn't help the fact that God had left, Crowley dug up the worst in him and displayed it for his only two friends to see; his rage, his embarrassment, and above all, his grief.

Castiel's mind was far away as Dean continued to teach him a lesson, but he couldn't stop focusing on what Crowley said, and couldn't help but wonder if Crowley was right about everything.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you back in there until you show me you can control yourself. Are you listening to me, Cas!?"

Castiel's gaze met Dean's. "Yes." He lied. Castiel put out his arm and moved Dean to the side and left the room.

"Great," Dean said, disappointed. Dean looked at his brother. "Let's go back in."

Dean moved toward the doors brushing by Sam on the way. Sam grunted in pain. "What?" Dean asked, annoyed by the constant angst that surrounded him. Sam was gripping his left forearm tightly. It was glowing orange, like it did back in the church where he nearly cured Crowley. Dean moved toward his brother and the pain got stronger. Sam collapsed to the ground. Unable to form words, he pointed to the dagger in Dean's hand. Crowley's blood was glowing too.

Dean moved back from his brother. "Dammit, Crowley."

As Sam was separated from his brother, the pain lessened, but he felt like he had just run a marathon. The boys closed the door to Crowley's prison. Perhaps another day they would be able to get some answers.