Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor its characters, neither do I profit from this piece of fan fiction. All the honor (and the cash) go to Kripke and the CW channel.

This is a sequel to the story Dangerous Notions, but if you haven`t read it, or haven`t bothered, you can still read this :)

The story thus far:

Sam's addiction got the best of him, and he went on a rampage, killing vessels of several angels with his new powers, a dark journal from an unknown source, and Ruby's knowledge. He was captured by Castiel and Uriel, in a battle where Ruby was killed, and Dean brought him to Bobby in hope that his brother would survive the withdrawal.

Dean's relationship with Castiel developed further, and while they were together, Sam escaped with the help of unknown forces. Now he is out there, somewhere, building up his anger towards the angels, the demons and even the brother he feels has betrayed him.

Chapter I

Losing my Messiah

… … …

"I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;
I will be like the Most High (Elyon).'
Yet thou shalt be brought dow to the nether-world,
To the uttermost parts of the pit."

- Isaiah 14:12-15 –

… … …

They were standing directly opposite of each other, both staring at the others face. Dean Winchester, incapable of accepting just how rotten destiny could be, was at that moment desperate to regain his hold on what a mere day ago had been burning between them. It felt painfully clear to him how screwed his priorities were, but hell was breaking lose, again, and it had suddenly gripped him how important that comfort, that anchor which kept him from drowning in the current really was. He had a brother out there, hunted down by the legions of Lucifer to bring upon them a freaking apocalypse, and one of his best friends, Bobby Singer, was nowhere to be found.

"What are you saying, Cass?"

There was an icy fear spreading through the bottomless pit inside him. How could everything go wrong, so goddamned fast? They were all leaving him, one by one. The thought of being left alone in the darkness of it all, was almost scarier than anything else he could think of. At that moment he'd rather have an apocalypse if it meant that he'd get to keep his brother, and his very own guardian angel.

How's that for a friggin` hero?

He swallowed and looked straight into the Prussian blue eyes of the angel that had given him something he really couldn't even explain, just to tear it away again.

"I might have lost my brother, and Bobby, and now you're leaving? Just packin` up, all ready to go, huh?"

"Dean…"

As rare as it occurred, Castiel had difficulties finding the right words. So much had happened between them that he didn't know heads or tails of his own emotions anymore. Angels didn't feel emotions. Not like humans. Yet still they existed inside of him, strangling his soul in a firm grip. He narrowed his eyes and walked towards the man in front of him, who was almost shaking with fear and anger.

"We failed, Dean. Your brother didn't stop using his powers, and at the moment, even though he is not aware of it himself, he has both demons and angels on his side. The hunger, that craving inside of him, will drive Sam into the very arms of Lucifer. If he willingly gives himself away, if he makes that last sacrifice, then the last seal breaks, and all is lost."

Castiel stopped abruptly when Dean raised his hand, palm up in front of him. The hand shaped itself into a pointed finger, directed at the chest of the angel.

"We are talking about my brother!" He sneered at Castiel, who gave him a look of uttermost sadness and fatigue.

"I have to save him, Cass! I just have to, and I can't do this alone…"

He swallowed, and gave the angel a sideways nod.

"…which brings us back to the same shitty crapstickle, about you actually leaving me, in the middle of this friggin` mess, now that I actually might need you."

Despite his harsh tone and rejecting body language there was a pleading look in the hazel eyes, and it told the angel that there was nothing Dean more from him than to be cradled in his warm arms, hidden from everything out there.

Castiel sighed deeply, and broke the auditory connection between them.

"I know, Dean. If I could, as you would say, fix this, then I would, but that power does not lie with me. You should know, I do not wish to leave. They have called me back. The garrison is gathering for war, and they have demanded that I retreat from the field. When I require the information you seek, I will see to it that you are told what you need to know."

Dean almost snorted. This was priceless.

That is what you are paid with, if you trust someone after giving up the goods.

"Right, in other words, you'll call!

I've heard that one before, hell, I've used that line so many times myself that I guess it was just about time I got it thrown in my own face. Why don't you take your garrison and shove it up where the lights don't shine. I am going out there to find my brother, and if I am killed in the process, don't bother looking me up. I'll be in my nice and cozy little hell-hole, wishing you good luck on this whole apocalypse-gig."

Castiel`s forehead creased deeply and the frustration he felt was tremendous as Dean walked hurriedly past him towards the door.

"Dean, wait …"

Castiel reached out for him.

The tip of his fingers almost touched the sleeve of Dean's leather-jacket before he was out of reach, and disappeared out through the door. It slammed shut, and the angel was left standing there alone, in the trashed-up kitchen of the currently missing Bobby Singer. Castiel could have gone after him. He could have gotten to the car in a blink of an eye. But he didn't.

… … …

The impala was parked in the overgrown driveway; the black varnish gleamed in spite of the dim light from the clouded sky. A paper and a gun lay on the passenger-seat next to him as Dean entered with a hand on the steering wheel, the other closing the car-door when he had sat down.

Despite his rapid departure from the house, instead of turning the key in the ignition Dean just sat there, staring at the wreck of a busted car on the other side of the car's front-window. Quietly he realized that he didn't know where to go. There were no more sanctuaries for him out there. Not a single human being he could turn to. The despair settled in his chest and he found himself choking on it. At least when he had clawed his way out of hell, he had known that someone would be out there. He had known exactly where to turn. Now those bridges were burned and he was supposed to make it on his own. Dean Winchester had never functioned well alone, it wasn't his style. He swallowed, as a salty tear ran slowly down his chin.

"I guess it's just you and me now, baby."

He shook his head, took a deep breath and then he frowned. Maybe there was someone else.

*.*.*