37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Erik Kripke, Warner Brothers and quite possibly others who are not mentioned here. No money will be made from this fan fiction.

Summary: When Dean goes to sell his soul at the crossroads to bring Sam back, someone else steps in to negotiate the deal. Cas did get a sign and it sent him off into the past to change things. AU from The Man Who Would be King and All Hell Breaks Loose.

Author's note: trying this again, hope it works.

It's All in the Details

By Colleen

Chapter 37

The introductions went about as well as they did the first time.

Okay, maybe a little worse.

"Dean and Sam Winchester, this is Uriel."

Uriel frowned and gave Castiel a chiding look.

"My apologies, brother." Cas said with a slight bow. "This is the archangel Uriel."

Dean looked like he wanted to say something smart mouthed already. He was holding it in, but Castiel knew it was only because he'd asked him to. The angel knew that Dean would try, but he also knew that not speaking his mind would be hard for the hunter.

"So, Cas…tiel tells us that you're going to have our back."

Uriel snorted. "I am to watch over you…" As he answered Dean, he gave Sam a look, as if he'd smelled something unpleasant. "Not come to your beck and call."

"Well, this should be an absolutely fantastic working relationship." Dean replied with a roll of his eyes. "So, we'll get back to work and you can go ahead and do that watching thing." He turned to Castiel. "Cas, don't be a stranger. Please."

Cas' lips twitched minimally and he nodded before disappearing, leaving the Winchester's with Uriel.

The archangel himself disappeared with a snort and Dean patted down his pockets, before giving his brother a look.

Sam sighed. "I'll start making new hex bags."

Dean nodded. The faster they could shake the douche, the happier he'd be.

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Castiel appeared in the mobile home that was serving as Chuck's new house. Unlike most mobile homes, this one appeared to be on a titled lot, rather than being part of a trailer park. It sat on a good chunk of land, which meant his neighbours were a safe distance from his home. Perhaps the damage that must have occurred to the houses next to Chucks when it was destroyed had prompted the choice?

Even though he had heard disparaging remarks about this type of house, this one appeared to be in better shape than Chuck's previous home had been. It was also cleaner, but that was probably only because the writer hadn't had much time or belongings to clutter the place with.

With little else to do but wait and watch, Castiel perched behind the prophet's shoulder and read along as Chuck transferred his latest visions to his computer screen. There was an almost sinking feeling in his gut as he realized it was the story about saving a man from becoming a rugarou. In other words, it was what had recently happened. Over the next couple of days, he watch Chuck write out the entire story, or at least the interesting parts. It was obvious that he didn't bother writing some of the things that happened, as a reader would simply not have been interested in bathroom breaks and the like.

When he finished, the prophet did something rather unusual. He printed out the story, placed it into a file and loaded the computer file onto a new thumb drive. Then he deleted all files of that story and burned his post-it notes in a fire pit out in his back yard.

The next morning he went to his bank and deposited the file and the thumb drive into a safety deposit box, or at least, that is what Castiel believed he'd done. He wasn't able to enter as the vault, as it was heavily warded. At first, he was afraid that demons were running the bank, but everyone there was obviously human and he discovered blocks set against demons as well.

The bank was old and a discrete call to Bobby supplied him with the information that the original owner/builder had been something of an occultist. When he'd built the place, he'd put protections in with the foundations. Cas rather suspected that Singer had a few things stored there. That Chuck had actually managed to choose such a safe place to hide away his second set of visions had Cas suspecting that some form of divine intervention had been involved.

He had to wonder if Uriel had ever noticed. And if he had, why hadn't he mentioned anything about it?

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Sam made three new hex bags. One for him, one for Dean and of course, one for the car. He finished tying them, effectively activating them about two thirds of the way into the drive to their next job. It might not work, but he'd noticed from Cas that angels considered vehicles to be a slow and tedious manner in which to travel. If Uriel could be bored into inattentiveness, then now would be the most likely time.

"Well?" Dean asked from behind the wheel.

Sam glanced into the back seat. "Well, no pissed off angel babysitter in the backseat and the hex bags are still here."

Dean gave a quick glance around himself and then shrugged. "No way to know, I guess." From the corner of his eye, he watched his brother put one of the hex bags in the glove compartment and pick up the file he'd left balanced on the dashboard.

He frowned slightly when Sam made a poopy face at it.

"Come on man, jobs don't get much sweeter than this one."

Now Sam was wearing his stinky face. "No, I agree. It's a hell of a case."

"Little more gusto there Sam."

He snapped the file closed. "It's just… We've got Meg out there, trying to find a way to get you or some other poor sap that could qualify as a righteous man into Hell. We've got other demons, settling into place to prepare breaking seals as soon as that happens and apparently both sides are trying to find out what and where the final seal will be once it finishes reforming."

"Yeah, finishes is the optimum word there. According to Brady it's stalled up at the moment."

"Doesn't mean it will stay that way." Sam looked pissed for a moment and then shook it off. "All I'm saying is, with all that going on, why are we taking on regular jobs on top of that?"

Dean nodded. "I understand, but I think we need this. A good old-fashioned monster hunt. It's about time the Winchesters took on a straight forward, black and white case. Besides, I don't relish the idea of taking on any of that other stuff without backup I can trust." He gave his brother a glance. "And I wouldn't trust our babysitter to hold my coat, much less save our lives."

Sam huffed out a sigh and picked up the hex bag he'd left in his lap. "Can't argue with that."

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Cas stood behind Chuck, reading over his shoulder. Apparently the boys were somewhere with copious amounts of beer and large pretzels. At the moment, he couldn't quite tell what they were hunting or how close Chuck's visions were to what was really happening.

Suddenly the writer's flying fingers stopped. Chuck looked around, screwed his face up like a man about to step out into an abyss and spoke.

"Castiel, I know you're here. I know what I am and I'd really like it if you would show yourself and talk to me."

Just how it was that things could keep changing as much as they did, and what would the backlash end up being? Not having an answer, Cas did as the prophet asked and appeared in front of him.

"Shit. " The author looked him over, his eyes so wide they gave the impression of taking up half of Chuck's face. "You're really real."

Castiel could feel the wince, right between his eyebrows. "You said you knew I was here."

"Yeah, that's what I said. I didn't really expect to be right about it. I mean, come on, me? A prophet? Protected by angels? "

From the expression on his face and the waving of his hands, Castiel realized that the author had run out of words.

"But, you foresaw what is now happening."

"Yeah, yeah I did." Chuck took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Just didn't completely believe it." The prophet suddenly pinned him with a look and Castiel felt hard pressed to not step back from him.

"I know what happened to my house and… and the archangel that was assigned to watch over me."

Castiel found himself reaching out to the desk to steady himself. "You have not written it though." There was no way that could have been hidden from Heaven if he had.

"No. Some things simply shouldn't end up on paper. And uh… I've only been writing the stuff that's really happening now when the new archangel… Uriel?"

Cas nodded.

"I write that stuff when he's not paying attention." Chuck gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Which is most of the time. I'm pretty sure I bore him senseless." He winced to himself. "Probably something of a feat when it comes to angels."

Castiel's lips twitched slightly. "I am surprised he feels that way, as I have always admired your work."

Chuck pointed a trembling finger at him. "See, I knew you were going to say that."

Cas tilted his head slightly. "It makes it no less true."

The prophet laughed, but there was little humour in it. "So, what now? I mean, I know that I could seriously screw up what you're trying to do… so."

At the angel's questioning look, Chuck smiled slightly and shrugged. "Didn't see this far."

"Ah." Cas thought for a moment and realized that he had no intentions of hurting a prophet of the Lord, no matter how dangerous his writings might be for him. "You've been placing some of your work in a protected vault."

The author nodded. "I just felt…better with it somewhere else, even if it was a totally Holmes/Watson thing to do."

Cas frowned at the reference and Chuck quickly explained that Watson had been the biographer of a detective named Holmes and had stored some of the more dangerous or unbelievable stories that he'd written about his friend's cases in a bank vault until such time that the world was ready for them.

"Ah. Yes, that is similar. I understand why you would do it of course, but how did you come to choose that bank?"

"I've got some really serious fans. When I blogged about needing a safe place to keep my work, they sent me a few suggestions. That place just 'felt' right when I went to check it out. I've been storing true versions out there since the house blew up.

Immediately, Cas thought to read the other version for himself. It was very likely that there was important information in Chuck's writing. However, removing them from where they were being stored could alert the Host to the second histories existence.

He couldn't risk it; he'd have to leave them there. But, perhaps he could send in someone else to the bank to read the there. Bobby would probably be willing to do it, once he'd finished with Niveus' files.

"Uh, if you want, I could stop writing the second set. I mean, now that I know for sure that they're happening, I could just…"

Cas shook his head. "No, there should be a record of what really happened. Of the truth. Just… continue being as cautious as you already have been."

Chuck nodded. "Sure. Oh, uh, just FYI. They've gone and lost Uriel. The Winchesters I mean. Once he gives up trying to find them, he'll probably be by to rant to you about it."

Cas sighed. "Thank you, for the warning."

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Almost an entire day went by before Uriel gave up trying to find them on his own.

"Castiel."

"Brother." Cas greeted him, but continued to read what Chuck was writing. The prophet believed that what he was seeing was current. So right now, the boys were questioning a witness to a possible werewolf attack.

An odd one.

"Castiel."

Cas turned his attention to Uriel. "Apologies, Uriel. How may I help you?"

"Your pet monkeys have gone and remade the hex bags."

Castiel frowned slightly, uncertain why the other angel was surprised by that. "Yes, they do that. Every demon on the planet would be able to track them if they didn't have them. The fact that they also block most angels is just an unexpected side effect."

"Surely they could use something else?"

Cas shrugged. "I do not believe there is anything else that would be as effective. At any rate, they are in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, at Oktoberfest." He tilted his head towards the writing prophet.

Uriel snorted. "I'm surprised you can stand to read that. More than a page or two and I swear I can feel my vessel's brain start to melt." He looked around the room. "Thankfully, all I really have to do is keep him safe. Someone else reviews the visions."

If Cas had been inclined towards emotional displays, he would have buried his face in his hands at that point. Somebody else knew exactly what was going on.

So, why hadn't they done anything about it?"

"Do you know who reviews them?" At Uriel's questioning look, he added. "In case I ever have to discuss the prophet's work with them."

Uriel laughed. "That's unlikely, as the gardener is the one keeping track of them."

"Joshua?" Cas asked.

Uriel nodded. "Yes."

"He mostly only talks with God."

Uriel smirked. "So they say. I suppose that is why they have him watching over the Word." With another nod, he disappeared.

Cas faded back into Chuck's visual range.

The author saved what he'd been working on and turned to the angel. "So, is this Joshua going to be a problem?"

Cas blinked. "You 'saw' that?"

Chuck gave him a hesitant smile and nodded.

"I am uncertain, although I do not believe so." Cas replied to the prophet's question. "He does talk with my Father, this much I know. Because of that, he usually plays things… close to his chest?"

Chuck nodded, letting Cas know that he'd used the idiom correctly.

"He doesn't tend to share information unless asked. If no one has, then he's probably of the opinion that if the other angels want to know what's going on, then they can read the Word as it is written. That they are not doing so is… their own problem."

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Ellen had a concerned expression on her face as a car pulled up outside Bobby's house.

"Bobby. We've got company."

The hunter joined her at the window and looked out. "Ah, she came. When I talked with her earlier I wasn't sure she was going too."

Rufus joined them. "Who's here?"

Bobby started towards the front door, telling them as he went.

"I thought we could use some assistance with that stuff from Niveus, so I called in someone I knew could help." He opened the door before the woman on the other side could knock. She looked at him with an amused expression on her face.

"Bobby."

He nodded at her. "Glad you could make it, Deanna."

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Bobby had already sorted about half of the files into general subjects, using a quick check of the tabs or the first page of it to get an idea of where it would go. Wasn't perfect, but breaking the mess down made getting through it seem less impossible.

Once they'd dug into the chaos of paper and filing cabinets, they'd discovered a few computer towers in amongst the hard copy. They turned Ellen loose on them, as she'd picked up a few pointers from Ash over the years.

Deanna picked a subject and started to read, while Bobby and Rufus continued to sort, occasionally adding files to what she was working on. Ellen was already set up on a computer across from her.

"So, you're Dean and Sam's Grandmother?"

Deana nodded and set aside a file that appeared to be an expense account for one of Niveus' VPs. The subject for this pile was drug testing and the file didn't seem to have anything to do with that. At least, if there were drugs involved they weren't the kind that Niveus could admit to selling.

"I think I remember John talking about you once, after a hunt. He'd had a little more to drink than was usual, even for him. Started talking about how you were trying to take his boys from him."

Deanna nodded and put a file on the test results for an acne cream on the not important pile and picked up the next one. "He wasn't wrong." She looked up at Ellen, meeting her eyes for a moment before going back to the file. "When Sam was about eleven, John disappeared long enough that the people running the motel actually called the cops. They in turn called me and I went and picked the boys up. John didn't show up for another two weeks. I'd started the paperwork after the first week. When he finally surfaced, he figured out what I was up to and disappeared with the boys. Took me almost three months to track them down after that." She shook her head, a nostalgic little smile on her lips. "When I found them, Sam had run away and Dean was frantically trying to find him before John got back."

Ellen winced. "Just how pissed was their Daddy?"

Deanna smile widened. "Never had to find out. I helped Dean track Sam down to Flagstaff and we dragged him home before John came back from his latest hunt. It was the reason Dean never let his dad know that I'd found them." She shook her head at the thought. "He didn't know about the custody thing, just that John was avoiding me." She sighed, "I gave up on trying for custody after that. I wouldn't have had a problem with Sam, but after spending a few days with Dean I was knew that if I'd tried that there was a good chance that he'd have disappeared with his brother himself. So instead, I made sure that the boys had a way to get in touch with me and left it at that. Dean didn't really, but Sam did once he got over the lecture I gave him for running away."

Ellen snorted. "That would have been something to see."

"Dean was actually a bigger wreck after the talking than Sam was. I had to send him out of the house because even though he was mad at Sam, he kept trying to protect him from me."

Ellen shook her head and sighed. "Even then."

Deanna sighed. "Even before then."

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After a long day of sorting and reading Bobby was headachy, tired and in serious need of a drink or a nap or both. He felt that desire double when he walked into his house and saw who was making himself comfortable on his couch.

"Loki?"

"Hey Singer. Just wanted to let you know that I've made off with all the whiskey you had in the house."

Bobby rubbed his forehead. So much for that drink.

"Why have you taken the whiskey?"

"Need it for a 'friend' of mine." The trickster sat up. "Don't worry though; I've left you a case of something on your desk to compensate for the loss. So, drink up." A snap of his fingers and he was gone.

Frowning, Bobby walked over to his desk and found a wooden crate sitting on it. Pulling a small pry bar out of one of his desk drawers, he carefully opened the box. The inside was segmented to hold twelve bottles. Pulling one out, he had to whistle. He'd never heard of the brand, but thirty year old anything had to be good. He looked up as his front door opened and Rufus came in.

"He, Rufus."

"Yeah?"

"Ever hear of Craig scotch?" He turned the bottle so the other man could see it.

"Huh."

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Gabriel smiled. Maybe he couldn't get to Crowley physically, but even from outside his gates he could hear the demon's horrified wail of anguish as he opened his latest crate of scotch.

Now, what should he try next?

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Dean leaned back in the beach chair and looked out at the ocean. It had been a long couple of weeks and this felt…

"Hello Dean."

…Heavenly. It even came with its own angel.

"Hi Cas." Dean reached down and pulled a Corona out of the ice-filled bucket beside him.

"Want one?" He held the beer out to him, but Cas just smiled slightly and shook his head before looking out at the waves.

Dean popped the cap on the bottle and took a sip. "Ah, it doesn't get much more perfect than this."

"No, it doesn't." Cas said, agreeing.

Dean took another long swallow of his drink and set it down beside him.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Castiel's expression became slightly pained. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"But you're really here?"

Cas nodded.

Dean stretched and put his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow. "Take what I can get."

For a few minutes, they enjoyed the sun and the sound of the waves.

"Have you recovered from your recent illness?" Cas asked suddenly.

Dean grimaced. Ghost sickness was on his list of things not to do again, ever.

"I am sorry I could not come to you when you asked for help." The angel's expression was once more a pained one.

"It's cool. Besides, it felt like you did… something."

"Yes. I sent you what strength I could through the link. Did it help?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, yeah it did. It let me slap the hallucinations back until Sam and Bobby dealt with the ghost."

"Good."

Dean sat up in the lounge chair, planting both his feet in the sand on each side of it.

"So, since you're visiting this way, I can only guess that you're still stuck babysitting the prophet."

"Yes." Cas looked for a moment like a man searching for a way to phrase something.

"There are some things about that that should be discussed." He looked around. "But they can wait and this is probably not the best place for it anyway."

Dean snorted. "Still not sure what could be more private than my head."

Wisely, Cas decided not to answer that.

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Bela dropped a file onto the middle of Crowley's desk. Frowning at her, he picked it up and started to page through it.

"Should I assume there's a reason you didn't just put this in my in-box?"

She nodded. "It's a seal, one that's about to be broken."

He gave her a glance and then looked at the file a little closer. "Okay, so? This thing has a small window of opportunity. If they don't do it soon they'll have to wait another six centuries for their next chance. The first seal is still intact. With it in place, it doesn't matter if this one seal gets broken. It won't count, even if the first seal was broken right after it. You would still have to break another sixty-five of them to open the box."

"In theory, yes."

Crowley narrowed his eyes at her. "In theory?"

Bela handed over another file. "This is a seal that would actually be useful for Meg's group to break. Even if it won't help open the cage, it would kill off a lot of hunters."

"Raising of the witnesses." Crowley mused, looking over the new file. "You're right, it would be useful. Your point?"

"Not only are Meg and her people going out of their way to avoid breaking seals, they're intervening to stop others from breaking them. For the last few weeks she's been torturing her way through her minions, trying to figure out what happened with Niveus and then suddenly this is more important. From what I've learned, she plans to move against the witches that are threatening the seal I first showed you. There are six hundred of the things. It shouldn't matter if one or two of them are lost, but…"

"But they're acting as if losing any of them matters." He thought that over for a moment. "The question is; would they be completely bollixed if that happened, or are they just being cautious?"

Bela shrugged. "Can't tell. I can keep researching it if you want me too."

He nodded. "Do" He picked up the first file again, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he considered his options.