Disclaimer: I own neither characters, story or anything else. This is purely for pleasure, and there is no profit in it.



"Oh, come on! Sam!"

Dean looked angrily at his brother. "Cut the BS, will ya?"

They were standing in a clearing under heavy pine trees, the tension thick in the air around them. One of the possessed men that had just attacked was lying in the wet snow, reduced to a lifeless corpse.

"Look, Cass seemed pretty damned serious to me. If you don't stop your demon mojo, then they WILL stop you." Dean had an almost pleading look on his face now. If they had one thing in common, it was none of them worked well with authorities. At least, not just any authority. For a fleet second, a picture of his father appeared in the back of his mind. The image slipped away before he even noticed it. This was a serious situation, and Dean felt pushed up against a wall. Sam had lied to him, and now he wanted to keep secrets, messing around with demon-sluts behind his back.

"I had no choice. Just let it go, Dean. I'm tired." Sam turned around, and walked hurriedly away from him. The branches above him shivered in the gust of cold wind.

Dean turned angrily towards the corpse, and realized that they were not alone anymore. Instead of one angel, there were two, both facing him from the other side of the abandoned body between them. The angels stood there silently, eyes following Sam's departure. Dean noticed the nasty glare on the dark skinned angel's face, half hidden behind the shadows of a deep frown. Unmasked loathing steamed towards him from the dark brown eyes. Dean shot him an angry glare, and turned to Castiel. He seemed tired, but there was a serious hint of trouble in the blue eyes. Castiel shook his head, and came a few steps closer to him. "You remember Uriel?"

"Yeah. The specialist?" Snorted Dean, raising an eyebrow. "I forgot to ask, specialist on what? Bikini waxing? King Pin movies?" He paused. "No, wait, oh, I got it! A Seventh heaven meets Groped by an Angel - script writer." He rolled his eyes. "Probably why you're so grumpy! I'd be a mean son of a bitch too, if I had spent half a lifetime writing cheesy God loves you scenes…"

Uriel took a step forward, and smiled shrewdly at Dean.

"God loves you? I don't know about that. How He can even stand a mud monkey like you, is beyond my comprehension."

Dean raised his eyebrows, and pressed his lips together.

"Ill bet there's a whole lot around here which is beyond your comprehension!

"That's enough." Castiel walked in between them. "Dean, I gave you a warning. Why has the boy not taken heed to my message?"

Dean shrugged, and threw a nervous look over his shoulder.

"What the hell was I supposed to do, hu? Tell him; No, Sam, we have got to let the evil demon-bastards kill us, cause Cass told me using powers is a no, no?!"

"You should have done what you were told, boy…" Uriel's voice was low and dangerous.

"Bite me, chuckles. This wasn't the time to pull a Gandhi, Cass. He got it, but we didn't have a choice." His anger was fading, replaced by fatigue and frustration. "If this was a seal, then we failed. I don't know what else to tell you."

Castiel sighed, and slightly cocked his head. Intense energy radiated from the Prussian-blue eyes, but his expression showed no emotions. It was like looking into a burning mask.

"We have been given the commandment, Dean. This is your last warning." He paused. "Find him, and stop him. Now."

Despite of the harsh words, Dean heard something that sounded like a plea in the dark voice. Why was he pleading? It was his and Sam's head on the chopping block. Cold anger returned from the depths of darkness inside of him. He walked a few steps forward, until their faces were merely inches apart, and spoke in a low growl;

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I will stop him, but you don't get to touch him. In fact, you don't get to touch anyone. Go save your precious seals, and Ill handle my little brother."

Uriel made a sharp clicking noise with his tongue, and every muscle in his body stiffened as he began to move forward. Castiel raised the palm of his right hand towards him, and he stopped - a look of pure rage in his face.

"Be careful boy. Give me one excuse, any excuse, and I will tear you and your mongrel brother apart!"

"Uriel." There was an edge to the word. Their faces were so close, that Castiel could hear the pulse drumming wildly from the side of Dean's throat. There was a shade of darkness in his eyes, which could only be seen, if one were looking directly into the hazel depths. Castiel could feel both his pain and fear. Realizing this, Dean broke off and turned away from him.

"Your last chance, Dean." The words sounded hollow, and almost pitiful.

… … …