A/N: Another episode with three chapters.

THEN

The severely weakened human made it through the Devil's Gate and halfway up the slope of the crater before his legs started to give out and Castiel had to drag him the rest of the way. Demons would be after them any moment. Castiel weighed the risk and decided a small jump through the ether was necessary.

Gathering the fading human in his arms, Castiel leaped, carrying them only a mile from the Devil's Gate. But it should give them enough of a head start.

Castiel cradled his charge as gently as he could whilst he continued to make his way through a wooded area in search of a place to take shelter. The woods were safer than any towns would be at the moment.

He found a small hollow underneath an ancient sycamore and eased the human's broken body onto a soft bed of leaves. Castiel rocked back, unsure what to do. He had rescued the human, yes, but the man's condition was grave, his injuries critical. The nature of Hell's plane of existence had kept him from 'dying,' but now that they were back on the earthly plane, he could succumb to his injuries.

Castiel faltered. He had saved the righteous soul from Hell…but was that enough? He thought of the man's brother, shouting for him. Dean. Castiel gazed down at the brave, battered mortal, and imagined how his brother was feeling, thinking his kin had been lost to him. Forever. Much as Castiel was feeling about Anna, not knowing if she was still alive.

And so Castiel made a decision.

…

Hell's tortures were designed for human souls. Dean may have been bodily dragged into the Pit, but his soul was just as damaged as his physical shell. Castiel's heart clenched as he ghosted his grace over the wounds of sundered flesh and shredded aura. This wasn't going to be easy.

Resting his hands gently on the human's ravaged chest, Castiel summoned forth his grace and sent tendrils of angelic energy into the wounds. He felt the sear left behind from smoldering irons, the fiery sting of raw lacerations. He slowly and carefully trickled the cool balm of his grace over the frayed nerve endings and jagged flesh, and gradually began to stitch the torn body back together.

It was long, arduous work, as the demon Alastair had been brutally thorough in his machinations. But it was nothing compared to when Castiel finally reached the human's soul. Knitting that back together would be an even more delicate process.

Castiel narrowed his gaze and focused on his task. Azure threads wove throughout an aura pulsing with shades of green, brown along some edges where it had tasted the beginnings of corruption unavoidable in the Pit.

Castiel kept at it, he couldn't say how long. The night was silent and dark outside their small hollow. Inside, the encapsulated nook was permeated with the soft pearly glow of his grace suffusing between him and his charge. Yet bit by bit, the lines of pain etched into the human's face began to smooth out.

…

It took almost two weeks for Castiel to realize the ramifications of what he'd done. He had been traveling with Dean Winchester in that time, helping the man search for his brother. Castiel had gone ahead to scout a town. He'd only been gone three minutes before he felt a jolt through his senses, a ping in the back of his mind urging him to go back the way he'd come.

Gripped by trepidation, Castiel immediately returned to where he'd left Dean, and found the human battling a handful of demons. Together, they made quick work of the beasts.

"Thanks," Dean said, wiping his machete clean on the grass. "How'd you know to come back so fast?"

Castiel frowned. "I sensed you were in trouble."

"Oh. That an angel thing?"

"No."

…It was something else entirely.

…

NOW

Dean and Sam followed Cas as the angel guided them through a small grove, stopping at the edge of the tree line where it opened up onto the property of an old, rich house. From the outside, the place looked in disrepair, with ivy consuming one side, shutters suspended from single hinges, and dead underbrush raking dry branches against dirty windowpanes whenever the wind stirred.

"The demon who stole the Seal is holed up in there?" Dean asked dubiously. It was out of the way of town where most of the mayhem that demons loved so much could be had.

"Yes," Cas replied. "From what I've learned, he's in hiding. Alastair, at least, had been hunting him, but there might be others."

Dean couldn't help the reflexive shudder at the demon's name, and he did his best to shake it off. It'd been weeks since their failed mission to retrieve two of the Seals that would help them re-Cage Lucifer. They'd gotten one, but the other had already been taken, apparently by a crossroads demon named Crowley.

"There's warding inscribed all over the house," Cas went on. "I can't get in."

"No worries," Dean said, pulling out his gun and checking the chamber. "We got this."

With a nod to Sam, the two brothers broke from their cover and started across the grounds to the front door. They moved quickly yet with stealthy footfalls, eyes peeled for guards or movement. The place seemed abandoned, but if there was warding, it sounded as though someone wanted to project that image.

When they reached the door, they immediately pressed themselves to either side of it. Sam reached for the handle and gave it a test crank. It creaked.

So, unlocked. Maybe the demon thought the warding was enough to keep out whoever he was hiding from. He just hadn't expected humans to come knocking.

Raising their guns packed with angel bullets, the Winchesters pushed their way inside. The foyer and adjoining rooms were dark, but candlesticks mounted on the walls down the hallway cast flickering illumination across the corridor. Dean exchanged a look with his brother before venturing forward. Everything was quiet. Maybe the demon wasn't home.

The lit passageway turned the corner, so they followed it. Up ahead was a set of double oak doors. Dean met Sam's eye and nodded. On a silent count of three, they burst through them into a private study, guns raised and sweeping the room before landing on a lone figure reclining in a luxurious leather chair with a glass tumbler of liquor in one hand. He was dressed in a fine suit with a silk tie as red as his opaque eyes.

"Don't move," Dean said. "These bullets are made of the same stuff as angel blades."

The demon merely angled an unperturbed look up at them. "There's no need for that, boys; I know what you came here for."

He started to reach inside his suit jacket, and both Dean and Sam jerked their guns sharply. The demon splayed his fingers, then resumed slowly inching them into his pocket. He pulled out a small medallion and tossed it onto the glass coffee table between them. Dean gaped in confusion at the piece that looked almost identical to the other Seal, and exchanged a bewildered look with his brother, who appeared equally taken aback.

It was stupid to let the surprising move put them off balance. In the next instant, a vaporous red viper shot up from behind the demon and struck out, slamming into them with enough force to knock them into the wall. It snaked around to lash at their weapons, sending the guns flying across the room. Dean clutched a throbbing wrist to his chest. Shit.

The demon casually got to his feet as his amorphous form returned to a dormant state. "Your idea to put Lucifer back in the Cage is admirable," he said blithely. "But I have another suggestion—kill the Devil."

Dean's brows shot upward. Wait, what?

"Excuse me?" Sam spluttered.

The demon reached for a rectangular wooden box on the coffee table. Dean watched suspiciously as he opened the lid, but then his jaw went slack in stupefaction as Crowley pulled out an old revolver Dean never thought he'd see again.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

The demon smirked. "A mutual old acquaintance of ours."

Dean glowered. That bitch, Bela.

"I don't get it," Sam spoke up. "What exactly is it that you want?"

Crowley lifted the Colt idly. "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

Dean blinked. That was…different. "Uh-huh, okay. And why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"

"It's called survival."

Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam. "Come again?"

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?"

Sam quirked a perplexed brow at him. "But he created you."

The demon rolled his eyes. "To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit!" he snapped, voice rising an octave. He straightened his shoulders. "So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil? I'll even throw in the Seal as a gesture of good faith."

Crowley held the Colt out, handle first. Dean shared another uncertain look with Sam, but hey, it sounded like the demon was already on the shit-list of some other big bad demons, maybe because of his views on Lucifer. And if he really was offering them a way to ice the Devil, they couldn't say no to it.

They slowly started to get up off the floor. Crowley wiggled the gun at them. Dean watched tensely as Sam hesitantly reached out to take it.

"Great," Sam said.

"Great," Crowley echoed.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is, by chance, would you?" Sam asked.

"The grapevine says to currently avoid the area of North Platte, Nebraska."

Sam looked back at Dean. Well, it sounded as though they'd gotten what they came for, and a whole lot more. Dean nodded.

"Great," Sam said again. He raised the barrel to the demon's forehead and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked.

Dean stared at it in dismay, while Crowley appeared wholly impassive.

"Oh, yeah, right," he remarked lackadaisically. "You'll probably need some more ammunition." He turned to walk over to the desk behind the leather chair.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked. Crap, this was suddenly awkward. He glanced at how far out of reach their guns with angel bullets were. Too far.

He looked back in time to catch something thrown at him. It was a small box, and when Dean opened it, he found bullets for the Colt inside.

"Now," Crowley said, crimson eyes boring into them. "Get out of my house."

With that, he burst into a smoky viper that reared up and shot a spitting hiss out over their heads. Dean and Sam ducked, but the vermillion cloud twisted away and whisked itself up through the chimney.

The Winchesters remained frozen for a moment longer, poised for another surprise attack. But it seemed Crowley was gone.

After exchanging one more bewildered look, Dean turned to snatch up the Seal while Sam retrieved their guns. Then they started making their way back through the house to the front door. They had a lot to tell Cas.

"You want to what?" Castiel asked incredulously.

The Winchester brothers glanced at each other.

"Well, it's the Colt," Dean said. "It kills everything supernatural. We took out Azazel with it."

"And we still have no leads on the other two Seals," Sam added. "With this, we have a real shot at getting rid of Lucifer now."

"You would have to get close to Lucifer to use it."

"Crowley told us where we can find him," Dean said. "But we need to go like right now."

Castiel shook his head. That had not been his point. He didn't want the Winchesters anywhere near the Devil.

But, as he considered the antique gun in Dean's hands, Castiel had to admit that their search for the other Seals was not going well. And the longer it went on, the more destruction Lucifer could wreak. Castiel didn't necessarily think this was a good idea, but at least it was one.

The Winchesters were looking at him expectantly, so Castiel sighed.

"Alright. Where?"

"North Platte, Nebraska," Sam replied.

Castiel couldn't believe he was doing this. He reached out to grip them by the shoulders. "Hold your breath."

If they were going to catch the Devil, they needed to get to that area immediately, and that meant traveling through the ether. Castiel extended a thin film of his grace as a shield over the three of them to protect the Winchesters from the worst of the celestial currents, which were not meant for mortal passengers. He pulled them into the ethereal slipstream.

The drag created by carrying two bodies slowed Castiel down significantly, the added weight putting a strain on his muscles. But he gritted his teeth and pressed forward, wanting to get Sam and Dean through before they started to suffer from the long exposure and potentially asphyxiate.

They finally reached North Platte, and Castiel surged out of the ether and back onto the earthly plane, landing in the middle of a road. Sam and Dean stumbled beside him, and probably would have dropped were he not still gripping them tightly. Castiel waited until they'd caught their breath and balance before releasing them.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Dean nodded mutely as he sucked in a ragged gasp. "That doesn't get any easier."

Sam looked a little green around the edges as he woozily straightened.

"Traveling with two isn't usually recommended," Castiel said.

Dean shot him an indignant look. "Why didn't you say that before?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "You seemed in a hurry."

The older Winchester scowled, and lifted the Colt to check the rounds in the chamber. "Let's just do this."

Castiel turned to survey the area. The town was one that had not fared well in the Apocalypse, not that many had. Over half of the buildings were in ruins, debris everywhere. Torched remains of vehicles lined streets overrun with garbage and broken glass. It was quiet, lifeless.

"What do you think Lucifer would be doing here?" Sam asked.

"Not shopping," Dean snorted.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "He could be laying low. Or perhaps one of his crypts is located here."

"So we should start with the cemetery?" Sam said.

Castiel nodded slowly. They certainly had nothing better to go on. He took the lead and set off toward the east end of town where he had spotted the graveyard on their flight in. Sam and Dean stayed close, eyes constantly roving around their surroundings.

"Kinda thought we'd run into a demon already," Dean muttered.

"Crowley said they were keeping their distance because of Lucifer," Sam replied.

"I don't get that," Dean said in return. "Cas, was Crowley right that Lucifer hates demons? Isn't he basically their king?"

Castiel canted his head in consideration. "Yes, and there are many demons who are devoutly loyal to him. But…I believe Crowley's insight is correct. Lucifer was very angry when God created man and beast. He couldn't stand the thought that our Father had made something more beautiful than his first children. And so Lucifer tried to, not copy, but make something better, prove he was superior. Of course, Lucifer couldn't create out of nothing like God could, and so what he ended up doing was twisting and mutilating what already existed. Thus, demons were born."

Castiel still remembered the horrors of that early time, when Lucifer had first begun to parade his 'works' in front of the other angels. The creatures he had disfigured and reassembled were hideous, revolting. Everyone had been shocked to the core, unable to process the atrocity that their shining brother had the gall to commit with nothing but an exultant grin.

Dean shook his head. "Wow, sounds like Lucifer is nothing more than a punk-ass teenager throwing a tantrum."

Castiel shrugged. He imagined that's how Gabriel would describe it. "One he's never grown out of."

"Watch your mouth," a dark voice spoke from a side alley.

Castiel whirled sharply, heart leaping into his throat as Lucifer himself stepped out from behind some dumpsters. Despite his venomous tone, the Devil roved an almost curious gaze over them.

"Well, well, well, the peculiar angel and his human pets." His eyes lingered on Sam. "I see you're back on your feet." Lucifer crossed his arms. "Now what would you be doing all the way out here?"

Castiel flicked an anxious look at Dean. Now was their chance.

The Winchester shifted, but took a few steps forward, his right arm angled slightly behind his back. "Looking for you, actually."

Lucifer arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Dean nodded, and brought the Colt up to align with Lucifer's head. He fired. The magic infused bullet shot from the barrel with a thunderous crack and tore straight through the Devil's forehead. Lucifer collapsed like a sack of bones.

For a prolonged beat, the three of them simply stared at the body. Just like that, Lucifer was…dead. The final stage of the Apocalypse could be averted.

Dean turned back to gape stupidly at Castiel and Sam. They'd done it…

Lucifer sucked in an audible breath and rolled his head.

Castiel's eyes widened.

"Owww." The Devil slowly got to his feet, cracking his neck. His eyes flashed red with rage. "Where did you get that?" he asked incredulously.

Dean stared at the Colt in growing horror, then back at the archangel who no longer had a bullet hole in his forehead.

Lucifer smirked. "Points for gumption. Too bad for you, there's only five things in all of creation that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them."

He surged forward and slammed a palm into Dean's chest, sending the hunter flying backward to crash into the side of a car, denting it.

Castiel's heart seized. He needed to get them out of here, now.

He slipped into the ether for a split second to reach Sam, yet before he could grab the younger Winchester, there was another small 'zp,' and an arm backhanded Sam away from him. Castiel found himself face to face with Lucifer. The Devil's eyes glowed red before he plunged his hand straight into Castiel's chest.

Castiel's back arched as a paralyzing spasm ripped through him like lightning. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Lucifer crooked his fingers into Castiel's grace and twisted. This time he did scream, both his human side and panther. He felt his grace sputtering around him, trying to break free from the Devil's claws. But he couldn't. Lucifer loomed over him, face alight with the flickering pulses of Castiel's grace trying to reach the surface. Hunger gleamed in the fulvous eyes.

Three pops cracked the air, and Lucifer staggered back, hand wrenching from Castiel's sternum. Castiel screamed as a crippling, tearing sensation ripped through him. His knees slammed against the asphalt, and then he crumpled onto his side.

"Cas!"

Hands grasped at his arms and shoulders, hauling him up, but he couldn't seem to find his legs. Everything was on fire.

His arms were raised and slung over two pairs of strong shoulders, and then he was being lifted and dragged. Through blurry vision, he saw Lucifer sprawled on the ground, moaning. And then he was turned away, carried through the streets at a rapid, staggering pace, as though they had any hope of outrunning the Devil.