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Dean knew the moment he burst into the church that he was too late – the angels were falling outside and the former King of Hell was quietly sobbing to himself on the chair in the middle of the Devil’s trap.
He glanced around the room before turning to Crowley,
“Where’s my brother?”
Crowley looked slightly awkward before pointing towards Dean’s feet,
“You’re kinda standing in him.”
Dean looked down and saw that he’d stepped into a pile of dust, which he immediately started shaking off his boots,
“I mean it Crowley, where’s Sam? You do something to him?”
Crowley coughed quietly,
“Well you’re kinda currently kicking around – not very nice of you I’ve got to point out.”
“Huh?”
“The dust. Your brother kinda lit up like a friggin’ light bulb after he’d finished stabbing me with needles. When it faded, all that was left was the neat – or formerly neat pile of dust.”
Dean glanced down at his feet,
“Sammy?”
He thought for a minute before dashing out to the Impala, coming back in moments later with an empty bottle of Jack that he’d found in the trunk. Crowley raised an eyebrow,
“You’re gonna put moose in there? You going nuts, squirrel?”
Dean shook his head before scooping up handfuls of the dust and pouring them into the bottle,
“I get him all in one place and Cas or someone can put him back together.”
Crowley shook his head,
“You do realise that the angels have fallen right?”
Dean managed to find Castiel several hours later at the Men of Letters’ bunker – apparently he’d found his way there after his encounter with Metatron. Dean held out the bottle to the angel, Cas glanced down at it confused,
“Why are you handing me a bottle of dust Dean? Is this another of your human holidays? Like the one where you give paper reconstructions of body parts to your true love?”
Dean shook his head,
“It’s Sam, Cas. I need you to mojo him back together.”
Cas sighed,
“You do realise that Metatron stole my grace. I’m human Dean, and I’m sorry about your brother – there’s nothing I can do, even if I had my -” he did air quotes, “mojo.”
Dean curled the bottle close to his body and started stroking it,
“There, there Sammy. We’ll just find someone else to fix you.”
Cas just glanced at Kevin and raised an eyebrow. The Prophet of the Lord just tried not to laugh at the sight of Dean stroking a bottle of alcohol.
Several hours later, Dean’s phone rang,
“Hello?”
The voice that came back on the other end was unfamiliar,
“Dean? Thank fuck for that. It took me a couple of days to work out how to acquire a vessel. Not as though this job comes with a training manual.”
“Who’s this?”
The voice sighed,
“It’s Sam. Kinda. Look, just tell me where you are – nobody’s told me how I’m supposed to do these things. Like seriously, there’s no friggin’ angels upstairs, besides Metatron and he tried to attack me. Ended up impaling him on his own sword. I probably have one of my own but don’t know where it is.”
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“How are you calling me from inside a bottle?”
The voice sighed again,
“Can we just talk face to face – the phone I’m using is kinda shit. It doesn’t even have a colour screen.”
“I’m in the batcave.”
“Ah.”
Five minutes later, there was a sound Dean had come to associate with Castiel’s arrivals, and a college kid with a look of utter concentration appeared in the middle of the room, five feet into the air. Dean waited alongside Cas, Kevin and his bottle of dust for the guy to crash to the floor before stepping forward apprehensively,
“Hello?”
The kid grinned,
“Hey Dean! Kinda messed up my landing didn’t I?” He looked at Castiel, “Any tips on how to do it better?”
Dean stepped further forward and hugged the kid,
“Sammy! What the Hell happened to you?”
His brother shrugged,
“Well apparently completing the trials gifts you a set of wings. Although I think I might have preferred some training wings first – being the only angel upstairs means I have got no fucking clue what the Hell I’m supposed to do.”
Dean grinned,
“We’ll work it out.”
Sam glanced around,
“Why are you holding a bottle of dust Dean?”