twentysomething

Title: Bing Crosby's Pennies From Heaven

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean/Cas, if you squint with your gay eye (it's the left one) it's Sam/Gabriel, but can easily be read not so.

Summary: Sam always asks inappropriate, poorly-timed questions, so what comes out of his mouth doesn't exactly surprise himself. "Where were you?"

Length: 9,500 words

Warnings: The Apocalypse.

Notes: After 5x19, something had to be done. ... This is what happened. Huge thanks to merelyn, who not only read this fic in snatches over gchat, but also beta'd it (and in a hurry, before it got Jossed tonight) because she's my boo. <3



Sam wakes up to silence and sunshine and the faint rustling of fabric. These are all probably bad signs, because a) Dean snores like it's his noisy, noisy job b) it was supposed to rain all day and c) someone else is in the room with them. He rolls over to see Dean sitting up in bed, staring in wonder-- at Cas.

Castiel looks as blankly unruffled as the first time they met, trench coat irretrievably wrinkled, tie just slightly askew.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says calmly, as if he hasn't been gone, unreachable, for three weeks. "Sam." He's perched on the foot of Dean's bed. Sam can see Dean's hand shaking, like he wants to reach out and touch, like he doesn't trust his eyes or ears, and frankly, Sam can't blame him. Sam didn't want to give up hope, but watching Dean- anxiously checking his phone every hour, sometimes more, staring at diner doors, like he expected Cas to just walk in any moment, flap back into the car? It had been awful.

"Cas, are you- are you okay?" Dean asks, voice still choked with sleep and probably a lot of other things Dean would never admit to. Sam can't imagine parting on the terms Dean and Cas did, before Cas disappeared. Not with someone who means- who means what Cas does to Dean. Cas doesn't smile, but there's something almost serene about the twist of his mouth.

"Yes, Dean, I am," Cas replies, smoothing a hand over the terrible Southwestern-themed motel comforter.

Sam always asks inappropriate, poorly-timed questions, so what comes out of his mouth doesn't exactly surprise himself. "Where were you?"

Dean shoots Sam a look that he's seen thousands of times in bars and dives across the country that means he's practically asked for the gift horse's dental records, but Cas just frowns slightly.

"I am..." Cas pauses, almost imperceptibly. "Not sure." Dean's eyebrows fly up.

"You're not sure?" he asks incredulously. "You mean you weren't getting waterboarded by douchebags in Heaven?" Castiel shakes his head.

"I was not, I was... between," Cas finally says. Sam's going to ask another stupid question, he knows it.

"Between... what?" he asks. Dean gives him the glare again, but Cas just tilts his head, like he's seriously considering it.

"I believe I was between the cellular walls of an anemone in the Pacific," Castiel admits, and yeah, that's more than a little weird, Sam wouldn't be sure about that one either. Although it does sort of finally answer that question about how many angels *can* fit on the head of a pin. "It was restful."

Sam blinks. Dean just sort of shakes himself, like he's just going to skip over that one.

"But, you're alright?" Dean pushes. There's something in Dean's expression that looks so brittle that Sam's heart aches, because Dean doesn't ask for a lot, but he doesn't usually even get those few things that he does ask for. Sam sometimes thinks that Cas's faith isn't something Dean expected or asked for, but it's something he's had, for so long now that he doesn't know how to work without it. Castiel covers Dean's knee with his hand.

"Yes, Dean. I am better than I have been in a long time," Cas says quietly. Sam knows that's not the end of that conversation, but he also knows that's going to be one of those too-close, fraught conversations that Dean and Castiel have in dark motel parking lots across America, that make up the basis of Sam's conviction that Dean is in love with Cas.

For now, Sam is just happy to have Cas back, because he likes Cas, independent of how shitty and terrible Dean is without him. He's not blood, but he's one of them, like Bobby, like- like Ellen and Jo, and Sam didn't want to lose him.

Dean's stomach takes that moment to grumble, loudly, and they all take a moment to appreciate that there are some things that are constant- Dean will always want breakfast. Dean's grinning like he's pulled a fast one and Sam can't help the smile that he feels lurking in the corners of his mouth in response. Even Cas looks amused and Sam feels positive in a way he hasn't for a long time.

Dean herds them into the car with the goal of the dubious-looking diner down the street that Dean swears will be delicious. If he keeps glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Cas is still there, Sam is certainly not going to call him on it. Castiel seems content to indulge Dean's crazy, if the way he lets Dean crowd up against him on the opposite side of the booth is any indication. Dean orders all this ridiculous food for the table, insisting that Cas has to be hungry, he doesn't care if angels don't eat.

To Dean's credit, the food does look amazing when it comes out, like it was ripped out of a Good Housekeeping. When the waitress asks if someone wants a hot chocolate- it got made somehow, but no one ordered it- Sam shrugs and wraps his hands around it, and ignores the way Dean sneaks a hand across the table and steals a huge fingerful of the amazing whipped cream off the top.

Sam swears that the tomatoes in his garden omelet are arranged in a strangely smug looking smile, but Dean just laughs at him and tells Cas a story about the time Sam was convinced there was a poltergeist writing him messages in his Alpha Bits. It's definitely at his expense, but Sam just rolls his eyes and hides his smile in the rim of the mug.


---


They roll up under the same damn black cloud they'd been driving in since Motel Hell. It seems like any other dingy small town they've blown through in the haze of traveling hard on the heels of what they're hoping is Pestilence. But as they slowly pack out, reluctantly picking up the trail again, it looks idyllic. And the unexpectedly beautiful weather holds- Sam wonders at that. The grass on the high school football field across the road is sweetly overgrown and there's a breeze that smells like spring.

Sam leans against the Impala, giving Dean his privacy so he can apologize to Cas in his special, emotionally stunted way. Sam still can't help but be a little puzzled by this little oasis of calm- it seems like anywhere, everywhere, they've stopped recently has had something for them to kill. Sam doesn't think they're really being targeted, so much as it's the apocalypse and this shit is everywhere.

He figures this is another one of those instances where Dean would yell at him for questioning them not being killed or something, so instead he just tips his face up to the sun and thinks this is it, this is why they're fighting.


---


It's a lot easier tracking Pestilence with Cas helping them- it's like the dash-line pirate map they've been following has turned into one of those follow-the-green-line bank commercials. It's terrible, driving through these towns, following the outbreaks of flu that are marking Pestilence's trail, but Sam feels collected- purposeful- again and they're gaining on him. They stop for the night in a town on the outskirts of Texas. Dean hasn't let Cas out of his sight since he just came back, so Sam just smiles as innocently and non-threatening as he can as the receptionist looks askance at three grown men bunking together in a double.

They're talking strategy- how to flank a horseman whose weapon is contagion, especially without getting sick themselves. Castiel argues he should go in alone, because he can't get sick, but Dean shoots that one down, because they hadn't thought Famine would affect him either, but clearly that hadn't been the case. Around the point when they're pointlessly arguing over who gets to put themselves in the most danger, there's a knock on the door. They all instinctively reach- Sam for the knife, Dean for a gun, but Castiel just shakes his head slowly, and answers the door.

It's a pizza guy, holding the big padded case.

"Order for... Jimmy Page and Robert Plant?" The guy asks skeptically. Castiel frowns.

"They did not order a pizza," he says darkly, like this could be some sort of plot, but the guy shrugs.

"Look, whatever, it was paid for, one veggie, one meat lover's. Just take them." The sulky-looking teenager puts the boxes in Cas's hands and stalks off, like he was personally offended to have to deliver them someone else's- someone else who uses Dean stupid fake names- pizzas.

Cas stands there in indecision for a moment, frowning at the pizza like he might smite the shit out of it, before Dean huffs out a laugh and gets up to take them.

"Whatever, I was just getting hungry anyway," Dean says, flipping open the top box, finding vegetables and passing it to Sam. Sam raises his eyebrows.

"You're just going to eat them?" Sam asks, because seriously, mystery pizzas, no one else is concerned? Dean tears open the other box and inhales deeply.

"Are you kidding, Sammy, I didn't even know they had Ledo's on this coast," Dean says, already lifting out a slice. Sam grabs his wrist.

"Dean, that was a Dominoes delivery guy. And they *don't* have Ledo's pizza in Texas," Sam insists. Dean stares at him.

"Sammy, I really don't think the devil sent us poison pizzas. Maybe they're franchising. Look, all I know is that I'm eating this pizza," Dean says.

"The pizza man had no malicious intent," Cas, the traitor, offers. Dean grins.

"See? Relax," he suggests, putting the other box back on Sam's lap. Dean inhales the pizza and doesn't seem to be suffering any ill-effects other than being insufferable. Sam stares mistrustfully at the green and white box. It isn't until after Dean shrugs, having left barely a fraction of his pizza, and lays back on the other double bed that Sam finally breaks.

The fact that the pizza is still steaming hot, even though it's been maybe twenty minutes since it was delivered is really just another thing to be concerned about, but it smells delicious, so fuck it.

It's just as good as he remembers it, him and Dean fending for themselves in Ocean City when he was 7, Dean taking him out to the beach every day, eating ice cream and pizza for lunch every day. Sam doesn't know how the pizza got here, but it makes him think about being a kid, totally protected and loved and he eats two more pieces than he really needs to.


---


Sam finds a book on the plagues in his bag two days later. He's never seen it before and he has no idea where it came from and neither Dean nor Cas recognize it. Sam even calls Bobby, in case it's one of his, but Bobby has never heard of it, and if they weren't living it, that would be a sign of the apocalypse. Sam reads it anyway, because odds are, you obtain a mysterious book, it's going to say something important.

He reads it cover to cover. An idea starts percolating in his head- and if there's a faded blue ribbon tied around a fern tucked between the back bookplate and the final page, Sam doesn't tell anyone.


---


The next day, they get detoured through three towns. Dean's pissed because he has no idea how to get back on the trail, when they realize Pestilence is coming to them now.

Dean muses about their good luck with a half smile on his face and Cas just shrugs, but Sam is suspicious all over- and Christ, what does is say about their lives that he's suspicious about good luck?

They're pulling into the outskirts of town and-

Sam cannot believe this.

"We're going to get Pestilence's ring," Sam says, half wonder and half disbelief, because they're going to win. Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Well, that's the plan," Dean agrees, but Sam shakes his head.

"No, no, stop the car, stop the car." Sam says, tugging at Dean's sleeve. Dean makes reluctant noises but pulls over to the side of the road.

"Okay, what are you talking about?" Dean asks as soon as the Impala is in park. Castiel makes a faint sound from the backseat.

"Have you had an epiphany, Sam?" he asks kindly, because Castiel is kind of a dick in his angel-special way, but he thinks Cas sort of appreciates him as a scholar, or something.

"That's one way of putting it," Sam says, and he can feel himself starting to grin. "Do you see the factory dead ahead?" Dean shrugs.

"Purell, great, we'll be the cleanest little Winchesters, we still have to ice a Horseman," Dean complains. Sam shakes his head and digs in his backpack.

"So, I was reading in the book-" Sam starts. Dean frowns.

"The weird book. The one you don't know anything about. The one that could be a horcrux," Dean says flatly. Cas puts a hand on Dean's elbow, and Dean shuts his mouth abruptly.

"Go on, Sam," Cas says. Sam thumbs through, glad the fern is still hidden in the back.

"So, it said that Pestilence brought the plagues, right? All plagues, and that man was unprepared due to their filth, etcetera," Sam explains. "I was thinking that this time, we weren't so unprepared." Dean turns to look at Cas.

"Don't you love it when he goes all cryptic so it's dramatic and fun for him?" Dean asks sarcastically, because Dean is a jerk, but maybe he has the tiniest point, so Sam just rolls his eyes and gets on with it.

"Pestilence is only as powerful as his ability to spread disease- what better way to stop him than drop him into a vat of that stuff?" Sam asks. Dean looks skeptical.

"That's your big plan- we're going to drop Pestilence into a tub of goop?" Dean argues. Cas's hand tightens imperceptibly on Dean's arm, and he stops again. If Sam were Dean, he'd make a joke about being whipped, but he's not going to- one, because he has common decency and two, Cas would probably smite his face off.

"Sam, that could- that could work," Castiel says. "The shock of sterility would greatly disable him." Dean blinks.

"Wait, you're going with this?" Dean asks. Cas does that weird half-shrug, where if Sam didn't know better he would think Cas is resettling his wings.

"His theory is the most promising battle plan we have managed to formulate," Cas says calmly and Sam grins. Dean throws his hands up into the air.

"Alright, okay, out-voted. But if this doesn't work out, I get to say I told you guys so," he grouses.


---


"I told you so," Sam says, exultant, and for all he's bragging now, still amazed at their success. Dean shakes his head, but he's smiling wide and pleased, anyway. Cas has his hands serenely tucked into his pockets, but there's a hint of a borrowed swagger in the way he's walking toward the neon-framed door of the diner that belies his cool exterior.

"Alright, Sammy, Merry Nerd Christmas, you won this one," Dean cedes as he slaps an arm around Sam's shoulders. Sam feels good, happy, and finally on the right track. He even orders extra bacon on the Cobb salad and savors Dean's stupid bad-influence grin and laughs when Cas orders himself a piece of pie and Dean looks like he's seen the face of God.

The extra bacon on the salad is overdone, nearly burned, just the way he likes it. Sam thinks it's a sign that he should embrace these little hunches, these twists of fate, or luck, or whatever they are. When he finds a perfect piece of melon at the bottom of his salad, sweet and cool, it's like an affirmation.


---


Because Sam won and they're one step closer to being the Lord of the Rings, Dean has to go and do the laundry. Cas goes to keep him company, or more likely so they can look at each other soulfully while Sam isn't around to judge them for it. Which gives Sam a little time for an experiment.

"Okay, so, I'm guessing you're omnipresent or at least able to read my mind," Sam says aloud, which is sort of silly, makes him sound crazy, but he feels better directly acknowledging it. "But it was you, right, who saved Cas, and gave me the book and put us in this town?"

There's a knock on the door. Sam almost jumps, but just looks out the peephole, and sees nothing. He grabs his knife, because he's, you know, not a moron, and opens the door. There's still nothing there- nothing jumps out at him, he doesn't see a car peeling out of the lot or even housekeeping.

But then he looks down.

Sam sucks in a quick breath and picks up the bag of M&Ms.

"Gabriel," he breathes out, involuntarily. He then immediately shakes his head, because Gabriel is dead, even if hot chocolate and dumping Pestilence into hand sanitizer is like a big, flashing, Vegas Strip sign that he's involved. There's no way.

But when he turns around and sits back down on the bed, there's another packet of M&Ms on his pillow.


---


Sam is jumpy all afternoon, because there has to be another explanation for this. He knows he should tell Dean- especially when Dean finds one of the packs of M&Ms and starts munching away on them happily while Cas tries to figure out how to fold socks. But he can't bring himself to say anything. Because either he's crazy and they're just lucky, or-

No. There is no "or" because Gabriel is dead- Kali said so, his freaking porno said so. Gabriel is dead.

But... it wouldn't be the first time Gabriel had convinced them- convinced everyone- that he was gone for good.

"Sam," Dean says, and Sam turns quickly, guiltily.

"What?" he says, too fast, too high-pitched. Dean frowns.

"What do you want for lunch?" Dean asks slowly, like it's not the first time he's asked. "You okay? You look like you're totally freaked about something." Sam smiles, jerky and way obvious.

"No, fine, uh, anything you guys want," he says, airy and totally unconvincing. Dean stares at him. "What?" Dean just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

"Out with it," Dean insists. Sam blinks.

"What?" Sam asks. Dean frowns more deeply.

"Look, whatever it is, just say it. We can't just sit and let these things... rot in us until they explode, and something bad happens," Dean pushes. Sam feels like he's living in Bizarro World.

"Are you- you want to talk about... feelings?" Sam questions, because seriously, what the hell. He just barely resists the urge to get the holy water and the silver. Dean makes a face like Sam just suggested buying a foreign car, but waves a hand.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to tell me you want your wedding colors to be blush and bashful, but something has been up your butt, Sam," Dean says with a shrug. Sam glances over to Cas, hoping against hope that this is some kind of hallucination, but Cas has his "I'm just a nice Angel of the Lord, you humans puzzle me" face on, so there's no help from that quarter. Sam thinks about lying, just for a second, but that's what got them into this mess in the first place, so.

"I think it's Gabriel," he blurts out, and wow, he really wishes he had handled that one better. Dean raises both his eyebrows high and then makes a shifty face, like the time he had to tell Sam that the bunny he'd rescued had gone to a "bunny farm with the other bunnies." Sam rolls his eyes. "I know, I know, he's dead. But, Dean, think about it." Sam really doesn't want to tell him about the M&Ms, but he will, if pushed.

"Sam, I'm not denying he knew what was what in the end, and yeah, he did us a solid, but he's gone," Dean says, surprisingly gently. Castiel frowns.

"I have to agree with Dean, Sam," Cas says. "I have not perceived an angelic presence during the time I have been with you, either." Sam cannot help but notice the way Dean's eyes flick away from Cas for a fraction of a second- neither of them want to say it, but Cas isn't what he once was, and they're both thinking it.

"He brought M&Ms," Sam insists, because they've put him in the crazy corner and this is what happens. Dean just makes the "explain" face. "I asked, out loud, if someone was helping us, and there was a knock, and then there were M&Ms outside, and then I said 'Gabriel,' and then there were M&Ms on my pillow."

Okay, yeah, that sounds pretty crazy, saying it, but it's proof. Dean eyeballs the mostly empty packet of M&Ms he's been eating all afternoon.

"Sammy, I'm not saying you're crazy," Dean says and Sam gives him Face. Dean sighs. "Okay, no more crazy than you usually are. But Gabriel's dead- and have you thought that whatever is doing this, if there is a ‘this’, is trying to get you to lower your guard, trick you into trusting it?" Sam points a finger in Dean's face.

"See! 'Trick!' Dean, it's him," Sam argues. "Here, watch- Gabriel, are you going to let me take the credit for the Pestilence thing?"

Two hours later, Sam is still insisting that Dean shifting was their sign.

"My ass itched, Sam. Look, I get it," Dean says, clapping a hand around Sam's bicep. "I get that you didn't want it to fall out that way- for all the shit he's put us through, he tried to do right by us- do the right thing, and that's what counts around here. But you've got to let it go." Sam glances over at Castiel, who is busy steadily avoiding looking at them, and okay, "Trust Sam Winchester's Instincts" hasn't gone so great for anyone so far, but he was hoping they could take him on a little faith.

So, because they argued instead of eating lunch, Dean forces them to go out early enough that the blue-hairs are waiting for their matinee specials- but you can't argue with Dean's growling stomach. Sam's totally given up on convincing them of anything, especially since Dean is convinced that this means that Sam was like... in love with Gabriel and is hallucinating himself an archangel boyfriend. Which is so, so, so painfully far from the truth.

But when he opens his menu, there's a perfectly pressed fern and the blue ribbon tied around it is blue like the sky on a perfect day.

"You are such an asshole," Sam mutters, but stealthily tucks it between the pages of his moleskine notebook, using the menu like a shield.


---


You'd think it'd be easy to find Death these days. It feels like everywhere they go monsters are tearing each other apart to get a crack at them, at anyone, like they're scrambling for one last thrill before the lights go out. But they're behind, desperately behind Death, just solemn-faced mothers and angry fathers and sad, confused children burying their dead. Sam can see the way the frustration, the grief is wearing at Dean, and he doesn't know what to say. Luckily, he doesn't have to say anything, because Cas requests that Dean explain to him the difference between his tapes again. A hint of a grin appears on Dean's mouth as he drags Castiel outside to teach him how to differentiate between Zeppelin and Metallica.

Sam breathes deeply and exhales wildly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. As much as Dean's restless pacing has been driving him- and thinks maybe Cas, too- crazy, it's too quiet, too still. Sam absently flips on the tv to find Brad Pitt eating peanut butter out of a jar. He shrugs- noise is noise- and reaches into his backpack for a book, any book, and snorts when he finds the book in his hand is To Kill a Mockingbird.

Sam really over-identified with Scout the first time he read it, under the kind, watchful eye of the librarian during the four months they spent in Gainesville in the dead of the most oppressive, humid summer ever, while Sam practically lived in the public library. But now he just runs a thumb over the spine and he's not surprised when the back of the book yields a checkout card from the Alachua County Library District. He flips it over and sure enough, in faint graying ink is "Samuel Winchester-- 07/19/92."

Sam smiles and taps the fern he finds against his lips as he starts to read.

He stops a moment later in deep consternation.

"Gabriel, I can't believe you stole a library book," he mutters aloud.


---


They're still not having any luck a week later, when Dean herds them into a roadside restaurant somewhere in Colorado.

Sam notices her first because it's still way too cold this far north to just be wearing a tank top with no coat- and then because she's sheet white and so skinny it hurts to look at her, and then because Sam realizes she's a skeleton.

Cas sticks his arm out, barring Dean and Sam from going any further in, like a soccer mom with a sudden stop. Sam's not sure how he can tell, because skulls sort of always look like they're grinning, but she smiles at them. She- Death, she must be Death- stands up, heroin-chic thin tank top over a minuscule skirt. Sam can't help but stare at the femurs disappearing into the slouchy black boots.

She stops barely two feet in front of them and Sam is grotesquely fascinated by the suggestion- the illusion- of skin, of features on her face.

"Come, sit down, you've been looking for me," she says. After a long moment, Cas drops his arm and they hesitantly follow her back to the table she'd been sitting at. Sam spares a second in slightly hysterical relief that she hasn't picked one of the booths littering the sides of the room, because they are not playing rock, paper, scissors for who has to sit on her side.

She smiles, strangely, again.

"Hello, Dean, Sam, Castiel." Her voice is like a whisper, but Sam won't lean any closer. "I believe I have something you want." She taps her long bony forefinger against the table. The ring has all the gravitas of any accessory picked out of Hot Topic, but there's something in the way that it reflects the light that makes Sam certain it's legit.

"You can have it," she says, skeletal smile still twisted across her face.

They all sort of stare at each other for a long moment, because... seriously? She's just going to hand it over? Sam doesn't think so.

"What's the catch?" Dean asks, all posture and bravado, but Sam can feel the curl of hope around his heart even though he knows this is way too easy. Death shrugs, and the gesture comes with a grinding sound that cuts across Sam's skin like nails on a chalkboard. The sound of bone on bone.

"Just a favor," she replies, adjusting the ashtray just so. Her smile widens as Dean opens his mouth to protest, because yeah, owing Death a "favor" sounds like a freaking stupid plan. "And I'd collect now, don't worry. I'll even tell you what I want." Death gives it the air of one conferring a favor of their own.

"Did you know that I'm the only one of the Horsemen that was an angel?" she asks, turning the ashtray again. "So, unlike the rest of them, who just hop into any body they like, I have to ask." Sam really doesn't like where this is going. "As you can imagine, it's a little hard to convince anybody that they should let Death in, hitch a ride. So I make do with what I can." Her hand presses through the illusory skin, straight against her ulna. The ghostly features on her face flash through emotions. Sam can read them all- hunger, envy, frustrated want- because he knows them. They wipe clean and she looks back up, same terrifying smile in place.

"Let me be straight forward," she finally says. "I want a day. One day. A real body, midnight to midnight, no work. Then you can have the ring, good luck with it, bonne chance. End the apocalypse, it'll be good for everyone." Dean huffs out a surprised breath and then looks at Sam.

"No way," Dean says. "We've managed to make it this far without letting any angels all up in here. What makes us think we say yes, you don't march us to Lucifer?" She smiles.

"Oh, Dean. I don't think you understand. You're not going to get this ring any other way. You can't trick me, you can't kill me, you couldn't take it from me with force. I'm giving you a chance to save the world. Isn't that what you want?" Death leans back, a dull clank as she crosses her legs. "Go on. Have the inevitable argument in the parking lot, talk it over, come to the same conclusion anyway. I have all the time in the world, I'll be here." She smiles, but it's not pretty. "The fry cook is going to have a heart attack in twenty minutes, though. If you're going to order something hot, I'd do it now." Dean glares and blows out of the restaurant, Castiel hot on his heels. Sam really doesn't want to be alone with her so he books it out of there.

"No fucking way," Dean says as soon as Sam is outside. "Sammy, this-" Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, hard. "I'll do it. She's right, there's- we have to do it. But I don't care what she says, I'm not risking that she makes you say yes to Lucifer." Sam rolls his eyes.

"Because it's any better than her saying yes to Michael? Dean, Michael gets up in you and it's not going to matter that the symbolism or whatever isn't right, he'll go after Lucifer and then where are we? Screwed," Sam insists. Castiel is staring out toward the Rockies, looming in the distance, brows furrowed.

"Sam is right," Cas says, and before Dean can start ranting he turns and faces them. "And so is Dean. Neither of you can risk the possibility that Death will hand you over to Heaven or Hell." Castiel looks back toward the mountains. "Which is why I will do it." Dean crosses his arms.

"No fucking way," he says, again. "We go back in there, we bargain with Skeletor, but there is no fucking way I am letting her 'hitch a ride' in you." Castiel's face softens. He comes close enough to touch Dean, but the resolve is still there. Sam frowns, because Cas has taken every blow that's come their way- jumped on every grenade, and that's not right- but Cas's logic is unimpeachable- it's the only way.

"Dean, it's just a body. Jimmy is no longer here with me. I can exist outside of this body, you cannot. It is not a violation, as it would be for you or Sam. We cannot wait. Every moment we delay, people die, we come closer to a situation in which there is no other alternative than surrender. I can do this, I can bear this," Cas offers. Sam never forgets that Cas is an angel, but maybe he forgets what that's supposed to mean- what it means Castiel is, what he will do. Dean shakes his head, hands clenched into fists, and Sam suddenly feels like he's intruding on a very private moment.

"Dean, everything will be alright," Cas says, softly, quietly, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

"You can't- I won't..." Dean says and Sam needs to turn around right now, because he can't see this- but he's not fast enough, and he sees Dean clutch at the lapels of Cas's coat to pull him into a rough, desperate kiss before Sam manages to close his eyes.

It's probably childish, but clapping his hands over his ears and humming is probably the politest thing he can manage without going back into the restaurant. He makes it through three verses of The Smiths before there's a nudge to his arm, and Dean is staring at him, daring him to say anything. Castiel is feigning great interest in his cuffs, but Dean is pink around the edges and his lips look bruised.

"Go on, say it," Dean says, narrowing his eyes at Sam, who just grins, because the world is falling to shit around them, but his brother is in love with an angel and spring blooming on the mountains is beautiful.

"Bobby owes me twenty bucks," Sam says cheerfully and Dean socks him one in the shoulder. Sam's smile fades as he remembers what prompted this in the first place. "Well, Dean?" Dean scowls deeply. Castiel tilts his head to one side, faintly smiling.

"That was kind, Dean," Cas says. Dean scowls even worse as a blush springs up on his ears. Sam raises his eyebrows, but strongly suspects he doesn't want to know- at all. The weird mind-reading/flirting is probably only going to get worse, really.

"I still don't like it, Cas," Dean argues. Cas's smile is a little more pronounced.

"There's nothing to like about it, Dean. But it is going to happen," Cas says with a hint of a shrug. There's something so much... more about Cas now, like all he needed was Dean to come to his senses to leave him resolved, confident. Castiel opens the door to the restaurant, and Dean heaves a sigh and heads back in, Sam following. They sit back down. It looks like Death hasn't moved, even a fraction of an inch from where they left her. Sam is struck with the terrible, morbid thought that maybe Death has left- and left the bones behind.

But no, she smiles.

"I take it you've come to a decision," she says. Castiel nods.

"We will go to the mountain, where no one will see my true form," Castiel says. Death looks delighted, eager, and with the way the sockets of the skull exaggerate the illusion of her eyes, a little wild, a little mad.

"Promise- promise to me, Brother, and the ring is yours," she urges- quick, like she thinks he'll change his mind- sticking her hand out, palm up. Castiel places his hand on hers and the two of them disappear.

Dean sinks heavily into the chair, still pushed out from the table.

"Goddamn it," he says, putting his face in his hands.


---


It's not practical for them to try to sit in the restaurant. It's going to be an entire day- it'll close, and crap, the fry cook is going to die any moment now- so Sam hustles Dean back into the car and drives them to the nearest motel.

Dean's not asleep, but he's laying on the other bed, his eyes closed and his lips pressed together tight.

Sam's always been the praying kind, more so than Dean, but Sam thinks maybe Dean is praying anyway.


---


It's only a few hours before Sam needs to get out of the room. He just can't take anymore of Dean's resigned silence, even though he doesn't want to leave Dean alone. He's also sort of hoping... Sam leans against the battered soda machine.

"I can understand if you... can't show yourself, Gabriel, but I just... something. Anything," Sam says, quiet under the buzz of the neon beneath the plastic.

The machine whirs to life and after a long second thunks out a Coke into the dispenser. Sam huffs out a laugh.

"Okay, yeah. Thanks. For, you know, the books, too," Sam says, pulling it out and sitting on the curb, resting his forearms on his knees. "Thank you for all of it, I guess."

The breeze ruffles Sam's hair.

"This is crazy, isn't it, I'm talking to myself." Sam ducks his head, and when he looks back up, there's a raccoon staring at him.

Sam glares up at the stars.

"That's not funny!" he shouts.


----


It's getting late enough that Sam thinks he has to go to bed, although Dean is staring at the TV on mute, wordlessly changing the channels every minute or so. Sam doesn't even bother trying to get Dean to sleep- they've stayed up for longer than 24 hours before. Bu) it's probably going to be really ugly tomorrow, and someone has to sleep, so that if something does happen they're not stumbling around like zombies.

"Sammy," Dean says. It's the first thing he's said beyond yes or no for a good couple of hours. Sam blinks blearily.

"Yeah, Dean?" he asks. Dean frowns, opens his mouth to say something, but then just shakes his head. Sam gets up, sits down next to Dean. He can't say it's going to be okay, he can't say everything is going to be alright- so instead he just budges up close and knocks his head against Dean's carefully.

"I'm scared, too," Sam finally says, because he's scared Cas isn't going to come back, he's scared Cas will come back not Cas, he's scared they won't even get the ring. Dean exhales, sharp and rough. "If you can, sleep. Wake me up if you need something." Sam brushes a hand over the back of Dean's head, because he might be the little brother, but Sam learned from the best. Sam tucks himself under the sheets and breathes in deeply when Dean turns off the TV and the lights. He can hear Dean rustling as he falls asleep.

For once, Sam doesn't dream of anything but quiet water and the smell of grass.


---


When he wakes up, late morning sunlight is streaming in through the window and Dean's bed is empty. There's a moment of sheer panic before he looks out the window and sees Dean leaned against the rims of the Impala.

Sam brushes his teeth and splashes some water on his face, throws on some jeans and heads outside.

"Five more hours," Dean says, still staring out over the gravel lot.

Sam feels like there's some serious role reversal going on, but he doesn't know how to take care of Dean any better than to frog march him into the little restaurant attached to the motel and feed him.

Dean stares out the window most of the meal and hardly touches his food and this seriously sucks. Sam feels like they're right back where they were three weeks ago, Dean waiting for someone who may never come back.


---


It's close enough to 5:30, the same approximate time that Death took Castiel yesterday, that Dean is pacing around the motel room like a caged animal. Sam still has nothing to say, nothing he can say, so he just sits on the bed and watches Dean wear a track in the carpet. He runs a worried thumb up and down the spine of his book.

By the time it's 5:45, Dean looks like he's about to have a panic attack and Sam has the sudden sinking feeling that Death is never going to give Cas back.

At 5:52, there's a knock on the door.

Dean wrenches the door open and there, for the third impossible, miraculous time, Cas stands, whole and perfect.

"I wasn't certain if-" Cas begins, but Dean just grabs him and kisses him.

"You're okay, you're okay," Dean mutters into Cas's trenchcoat and Sam has got to stop being present for their emotional milestones.

"I will always come back, Dean," Castiel says, smiling, hands coming to rest on Dean's hips, and no, really, Sam needs to be elsewhere.

"Uh, can I- can I get you guys dinner?" he tries, because he'd rather interrupt them now then later. Dean blinks, but smiles gratefully.

"Yeah, Sammy, thanks," he says, and Sam darts out of the room. He hopes an hour or so will be enough to get the worst of it out of their systems, because he doesn't think he can sit in the restaurant for much longer that that by himself, looking like a weirdo.

When he sits down at the booth, he orders a iced tea, and the waitress from earlier that day brings it with a wink and a plate of cheese fries.

"You looked like you needed it, before," she says, tucking a curl of strawberry red hair behind her ear. Sam smiles and thanks her, and when she walks away Sam lets himself take a deep, shaky breath, because Cas is safe and they can trap the devil, and oh god, they could win. They could win. Sam, and Dean and Cas and Bobby can save them all, save his waitress, Cammy, save the guy who cut them off three times on the highway on the way from Arizona, save each other, save people.

Sam looks at the piece of Dubble Bubble that just appeared on the table and laughs and laughs.


---


He knocks loudly, twice, takeout bag in hand and waits for the door to open. After a moment Dean answers, looking sheepish.

"I'm starving, what took so long, Sammy?" he demands, but it lacks the usual conviction that Dean kept from food harbors. Sam just rolls his eyes, because he's pretty sure Dean was otherwise occupied in any case.

"Anyway," Sam says, putting the burger and fries down in front of Dean and the pie in front of Cas- Cas will take about two bites and then pass it to Dean, anyway. He ate at the restaurant under Cammy's watchful eye and flirty smiles, bubble gum still in his pocket. "So, what happened, Cas?" Castiel looks up from where he had been contemplating the apple and blueberry pie pieces in the box.

"I admit, it was surprising," Cas says slowly. "When we arrived on the mountain, after Death took possession of my vessel, Azrael just... sat there." Dean raises his eyebrows.

"What, Death didn't take you joyriding?" Dean asks, looking somewhat relieved. Sam grins.

"What, you didn't already ask him?" Sam prompts slyly, because he is going to get so much teasing out of this. Dean makes a face.

"Just- shut up," Dean mutters. Sam lets his smile turn into a smirk. Cas looks between them and then tilts his head like he just doesn't want an explanation.

"No, Azrael seemed..." Cas trails off again. "Content. I believe there is much to sensation that we take for granted. I offered to leave, but she seemed pleased with my company." Castiel's expression is distant and Sam spares a second to think that perhaps eternity is very lonely. "We did not go anywhere, or talk to anyone else. At the end of the prescribed time, I reentered my vessel, and she gave me the ring, and parted ways." Cas furrows his brow. "It- I was surprised."

Coming from Cas, Sam thinks that goes a long way. Sam looks at the gleaming silver ring on the nightstand- and thinks about the three other rings packed securely into their packs- and holy crap, they did it.

And then Sam realizes they have a much, much bigger problem.

How the hell are they going to trick the Devil when the Trickster couldn't?


---


Sam doesn't want to ruin the night, bringing up their huge, glaring problem, but Dean does it for him.

"Oh, shit, we still have to find the damn cage and get Lucifer into it," Dean says, a forkful of pie halfway to his mouth.

Castiel does that small half-shrug that Sam still sort of thinks is adjusting his wings.

"Any house of the Lord should be sufficient," Castiel says. Sam blinks.

"Wait, really?" Sam asks, because no way is it that easy- but then again, that's what he had thought about Death, and all that had taken was some homosexual making out and Dean freaking out for a day. Cas nods.

"Churches, due to their association with baptismal and funeral rites are, by nature, liminal spaces," Cas confirms. Sam frowns.

"So, St. Mary's, last year?" Sam asks. Cas nods again.

"The choice of the place was immaterial. The sacrifices enacted there, including Lillith's dead, eroded the consecration of the church, leaving it an open gateway, allowing for Lucifer's escape," Cas explains. Sam nods slowly. Dean is wearing his "what the fuck am I missing here" face.

"Wait, so Joe Schmo's Baptist Congregational Spiritualist Mecca Church could be a portal for the devil?" Dean asks. Castiel tilts his head to one side.

"Theoretically. There are, of course, places that would be more powerful, ease Lucifer's escape," Cas goes on. Sam seizes on this.

"And so, places that we can use to stuff him back into Hell," Sam prompts. Castiel nods, a faint smile on his face.

"Precisely. Any church strongly associated with Michael, would of course, be preferable," Cas says. Sam grins and whips out his laptop to start researching. Dean frowns.

"I hate to rain on your parade, because I like where it's going, don't get me wrong," he starts, crossing his arms. "But that still leaves us with the rather large issue of how do you make Satan climb back into Hell?"

Sam's fingers freeze over the keyboard, because okay, yeah. Still an issue. Castiel frowns, like life is creating problems just to hurt his feelings now. They all pause, frustrated, and suddenly, Sam remembers he has bubble gum still. He stealthily pops it in his mouth, because otherwise Dean will ask him where it came from or, more likely, to share. His hand restlessly taps against his bag until he accidentally knocks Gabriel's book about the plagues out and- wait.

"Weaknesses," Sam mumbles, tapping against the cover. "Every one of them had a weakness." Dean clears his throat.

"What, Sam?" he asks. No- not weaknesses- wants. Sam grins.

"How did we beat the Horsemen? They all wanted something," Sam says, rummaging in his bag, pulling out the rings. He turns to face Dean and Cas, holding War's ring. "War had that car- that's how we caught him. Famine-" Sam switches rings. "Famine wanted souls, we got him because he was greedy enough to go after those demons' souls." Next ring. "Pestilence wanted us, enough to chase us into the factory." Last ring. "Death wanted life, badly enough to just give us the ring. Lucifer wants things, too."

Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, Sammy, he wants you, but we're not using you as bait," Dean argues. Sam shakes his head.

"No, you're not thinking big enough," Sam says, excited, because this could work, really work. "In my dreams, he used to talk about how he was still an angel- that's why he needed consent, and that's what Death said too, right? But they're Fallen- they don't have-" Castiel sucks in a sharp breath.

"Lucifer's Grace," Castiel breathes out, and there's a look on his face that makes Sam think of paintings of the Crusades, of divine retribution. He stares at Sam. "It will work." Dean looks between Sam and Cas.

"Okay, are you saying- you want to tell Lucifer we have his Grace?" Dean asks. Castiel nods.

"Lucifer never wanted to Fall. His love for the Father was..." Cas gestures something Sam doesn't get. "They called him Morningstar for a reason, Dean. Lucifer's Grace was incandescent." Dean makes a face.

"And why would he believe we have it?" Dean asks. Castiel shakes his head.

"You saw Lucifer in Carthage. His vessel is ripping apart at the seams. There is no way he could expend the energy it would require to find his Grace without fully destroying the vessel, even if he managed to locate what the Father wanted hidden," Castiel says. Sam nods.

"Lucifer wants that back more than anything, more than the apocalypse, and certainly more than me," Sam adds. "A thing like that, a part of what you are? You'll jump at it." There's a hint of a smile in the corner of Dean's mouth.

"You two sure about this?" he asks.

"Yes," Castiel says firmly. Sam nods. Dean shrugs, grinning wide.

"Well, kids, let's con the Devil."


---


"You guys didn't say anything about France," Dean gripes, staring out at the English Channel. Bobby snorts.

"You're just sore because the guy in the tavern thought you were a prostitute," Bobby says. Cas frowns.

"I thought it was rather rude," Cas says under his breath. Sam stares at the causeway, the towering Gothic cathedral.

"Well, we're certainly going big," Sam mumbles. Mont Saint-Michel rises out of the sea, the high tides obscuring the mud flats. The city looks impenetrable. Famine's ring is strangely heavy in his pocket. He resists the urge to compare himself to Frodo, but it's a close call.

They had called Bobby and after being chastised, in a special way only a man in a hat half-made of mesh can really carry off, he had insisted they come get him immediately. Dean had been extra irritable due to all the Angel Express travel, but here they are in freaking Europe. Sam figures if this somehow all goes pear-shaped and they all die, at least he's making up for the fact that he never made Study Abroad in college. Dean hovers near Cas's side.

"Are you sure you're okay, this is a lot of-" Dean breaks off as Cas brushes his thumb over Dean's knuckles, giving him the sickeningly-in-love version of an eye-roll.

"Yes, Dean," Cas insists. Dean shrugs.

"C'mon then, we might as well get a move on, that thing is like, a million miles away," Dean says. He bats away Cas's Angel Hand. "Stop that, we can walk, we are not teleporting ten feet." Castiel makes the confused, scrunched up face that probably means Dean is going to have to teach him about hyperbole.

Sam snorts and leans down to pick up his pack. He pauses. There's a bright blue flower next to his foot that he swears wasn't there a moment ago. Sam smiles slightly and picks it up.

"Thanks, Gabriel," Sam whispers. He turns, and Cas is watching him, head slightly tilted.

"Bachelor's button," Cas says, motioning to the flower. "In the language of flowers, they mean ‘blessedness.’" Sam hides his smile in the edge of his coat.

"Thank you, Cas," Sam says, tucking the flower in his notebook, a page behind the ferns.


---


They make it up to the cathedral using angel teleportation after all, because they get into the city and realize thirteenth century architecture isn't exactly handicap accessible. Dean looks around the vividly green cloister, staring up at the slightly overcast sky.

"What next, Cas?" he asks. Castiel looks around, observing the tourists.

"We wait until nightfall, when the cathedral closes to the public," Cas says. "Then we'll let loose the message." Dean had suggested Crowley- if any one of them approached Lucifer, he'd know the jig was up. Frankly, Sam didn't trust Crowley further than he could throw him, but he had given them the Colt, and he did believe that Crowley didn't want the apocalypse any more than they did. Crowley was going to tell Lucifer he'd heard that Michael was getting concerned about Dean- and checking on something he had stashed in France, say, oh, since the Fall.

Cas does some sort of angel voodoo that Sam, to be honest, hadn't thought Cas had in him anymore. He makes them invisible, right before the docents cruise through, tidying and locking up for the night. Sam's just glad they hadn't been forced to climb on top of the toilets, because that's a little From Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for him. Also, getting a wheelchair on top of a toilet is not on his Armageddon to-do list. The locks bang into place, and Dean pulls out his cell phone and dials.

"Go ahead, Crowley. See you if we don't end the planet," Dean says, hanging up immediately. "All right, Planeteers, we should probably put on our rings." Sam rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, you're the annoying-ass ginger douche," Sam mutters. Dean grins.

"Sure, Ma-Ti. You just keep your monkey to yourself." Dean coos at Sam. Cas's brow is furrowed but Bobby holds up a hand.

"No, don't even ask. You don't want that," Bobby says. Sam slips on Famine's ring, and it feels as heavy and cold on his hand as it did in his pocket. Dean puts on Death's ring and throws up the rocker hand.

"Heavy metal," Dean says sardonically. Cas frowns.

"Is it very heavy, Dean?" Cas asks solicitously as he puts on War's ring. Some day Dean being embarrassed because of how much Cas loves him will get old, but today is not that day.

"Figure of speech, Cas," Dean says, still a little pink, but amused. Bobby puts on Pestilence's ring with a huff of disbelieving laughter.

"Idjits," Bobby says, but it's sort of gruffly fond, if anything. Sam wants to laugh, because it took the apocalypse to sort them out, but they managed. There is a terrible Captain Planet vibe to it, but they each slice a shallow cut in the palm of their hand, and Cas paints the symbol on the altar.

When Lucifer shows up, it's almost predictable.

He looks- he looks pleased.

"I'm glad you're here, Sam, I'm going to need you," Lucifer says.

"Yeah, hang on to that thought," Sam says, slamming his hand down on the altar. Dean, Cas and Bobby slap their palms down. There's a perfect moment as light starts pouring into the church where Lucifer looks hideously, amazingly surprised.

Sam waits for the pithy comment, from Lucifer, from Dean, but nothing comes, they're all silent while the white light fills the room to the brim, eclipsing Lucifer's horrified face.

When the light fades, Gabriel is standing there.

"Hi guys," Gabriel says cheerfully, and snaps his fingers.


---


They're in the basement of a tavern that looks like the set of Inglourious Basterds. Dean is still staring at Gabriel in mute horror.

"So, way to go, team!" Gabriel says, happy and pleased looking. It's an expression that Sam usually associates with getting hit in the nuts- but there are pressed flora and books in his bag and some superb hot chocolate in his past that makes for a really bi-polar portrait of an Archangel.

"Gabriel," Castiel says slowly. The look Gabriel gives him is totally indecipherable, but Castiel's shoulders slump like he's been given a last minute reprieve from the gallows.

"Brother, you could never be punished for following your Father's orders," Gabriel replies. "Your reward is what you wish." Castiel smiles, but it's a little watery around the edges, and they're guys, so they look away while Cas takes a shuddering breath and composes himself.

"Okay, so," Dean hazards, "where the fuck have you been?" It's surprisingly mild for Dean and Gabriel must get that, because he just smiles happily again.

"Almost dead," Gabriel replies. "Luckily, I pulled a Sydney Carton and totally Far Better Thinged myself into a last minute reprieve." Gabriel waves a hand loosely. "Right before Lucy took me down, I found myself in Boca Raton."

They all stare.

"No lie!" Gabriel chirps. "Long and the short of it is: being on Team Save the Humans is pretty good in Dad's book." Bobby frowns.

"Well, what about that whole Joshua thing?" Bobby asks. Gabriel rolls his eyes.

"Look, it's not... it's like this," Gabriel says. "Could the Father have jumped in, stopped the whole thing? Absolutely. Is it so much better that you did it? Absolutely." Gabriel pours another round of shots. Sam throws his down. "God settles it, nothing is ever settled. Everyone's always waiting for him to change his mind. Humanity settles it?" Gabriel waves his hands expansively. "Congratulations, gentlemen, you've stopped the Apocalypse. If you want to go to EuroDisney now, I won't judge. In fact, I'll break you into the park."

"So, all those things Sam found, or-" Dean starts. Gabriel grins. Dean puts his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Sam,” he says. “You weren't hallucinating. You have a stalker." Dean mutters. Gabriel's smile merges into something a little milder, something you might expect on the face of Gabriel.

"I mean that, though. The Father is grateful. He never would have given you this course if you would have failed," Gabriel says. Dean looks at Cas, and that's an epic love story if Sam has ever seen one. Sam can guess what Cas wants for his "reward.” Maybe Dean will let himself be happy now. Gabriel snaps.

"I almost forgot, thanks, Sammy," Gabriel whispers with a wink. Bobby makes this face and then gasps.

"What did you-" he asks. Gabriel blinks innocently.

"You did tell Castiel if he found God, to bring legs, Robert." he says. "God found you."

This is a boon unasked for and Sam feels light- feels free. His family is taken care of, together. They're safe. Waitresses in Colorado, assholes in Arizona, suspicious motel clerks in Texas- Winchesters and angels, too.

For once, Sam did the right thing.

"And what do you want, Sam?" Gabriel whispers to him. Sam smiles.

"You've given me enough," Sam replies, and Gabriel smiles.