Chicago, Illinois...

When Greg awoke, he was in his own bed in his own apartment, back home in Chicago, and it was a bright sunny spring morning. The smell of coffee brewing was coming from the kitchen.

Greg looks around, and then tries to wave the fog from his mind. "Holy crap....Chicago?" He is looking around a bit, then stands up to look out the window.

"This some kind of weird dream or what?" He moved on toward the kitchen then, stepping over the rug on the floor that was always rolled up from the night before.

The angel in the trench coat was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently waiting Greg's arrival.

He just stares at the man in the trench coat. "Castiel....as in the Angel?" He walked over to fill a cup of coffee. "You want a cup?" It would be rude not to offer.

"Yes, and no, thank you."

"Are we really in Chicago?" He lifted that mug for a careful sip, coffee straight up black and strong.

"Where else would we be?"

"I....uh. Okay, so did I dream all of that' I mean cause here I am now, having coffee with an honest to God angel."

"I am not having coffee."

Greg tested the floor and found that same creaking wood plank and shook his head as it squeaked then looked at the man. "No, but I offered....and I am drinking....never mind. Did I dream all of that?"

"No, you did not dream it. It was real." Cas watched the man move about the kitchen, sitting straight and still in his chair.

"I mean it felt really real, but it's like I never left my place. Everything is the sa..." He trails off and stares. "Okay, you said I didn't belong there, can you tell me why?"

"If you belonged there, would you not have chosen to stay?"

He sighed. "I have to wonder now, what will happen, and if I'll truly be missed." He smiled a bit. "I really should thank you. You saved my life....and what about Dean' Is he okay?"

The man didn't ask if he'd be missed, so the angel didn't offer comment. "You're welcome, and Dean will be fine." It wasn't the first time Dean had died, after all, and might not be his last.

"He's a man of few friends....and he came to help save me."

"Dean was there because Abaddon forced him to be there. You have demon blood inside you, Gregory."

"Oh." He sounded almost disappointed. "I thought maybe he was there because of Sid..." He looked at the Angel then. "Yes, I just found out."

"I cannot answer for Dean, however, I know that his intentions were to help you and the fae woman. You have spilled innocent blood."

"I know." He sighed and sat down in a chair near Cas. "It's like a hunger."

"There is only one way to be free and that is to destroy Abaddon. He will find you again and he will try to control you. You must find him first."

"Sure, is he in the yellow pages" Is there nothing that you can do?" He hated asking, but thought he would.

"Yellow pages. I do not understand that reference."

"Phone book?" He had to chuckle a little. "I suppose you wouldn't get it."

"I suggest you leave this place."

"Leave this place" You are a riddle man, you tell me I don't belong where I was, now I need to leave here. Nothing can fix what I am, other than death, right?"

"You are what you are. It cannot be changed, but you can learn to control your power. Focus it, learn to use it."

He sighed. "Too bad it wasn't a simple fix, huh?" He smiled at the Angel. "God, in other instances there are so many questions I would have for you."

"I will tell you this....If you cannot control it, your friends will become your enemies and your enemies your friends. I am not God."

He snorted. "I know....it's just something people say. I will learn to control this. Maybe even take to my flock again, if they'd take me."

"You may call on me if you need me."

"Like a cell phone" Or just..." He was curious how one called an Angel. Hell, he'd been talking to them for years.

"Pray."

"At least, I know for sure there is someone listening."

"We are always listening." Cas moved to his feet. "I must be going."

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

He stands and offers a hand to the Angel. "I thank you again, for saving me. More importantly, I thank you for saving my friend."

He glanced at the hand, knowing it is the custom of humans to shake hands to offer thanks and friendship. "There is no need to thank me. We will meet again."

"Okay, I hope to see you again."

Not one for long goodbyes, Castiel shook the man's hand and disappeared, like he was never there at all.

Greg just looks around the apartment, then skyward. "Wow."

Chicago, Illinois...

The Impala came to a halt outside of Greg's apartment building in Chicago. Dean hadn't been there in a while, but he remembered the place like it was yesterday. He put the car in park and turned to look up at the building, wondering what the Padre would say when he saw him.

Sam eyed the apartment building. "Really, you know someone that lives here" Looks like it should be torn down." He opened the door of the Impala and stepped out.

Dean climbed out of the car and joined his brother on the sidewalk, still looking up at the building. "It's a roof over his head, Sammy. Can't bitch about that." He hadn't had a roof over his head since he'd left Lisa behind in Indiana.

"Or is this some sort of job and you haven't told me?" He turned then, and looked at Dean. "Yeah, I guess you are right, it's not that bad, but....never mind." He followed Dean's lead toward the place. "Who is this guy?"

Dean swept a slightly paranoid look around and headed toward the building. "Guido Sarducci. Or used to be." Which meant in Dean-speak, "a priest". He pulled open the door to the building and started up the stairs, boots shuffling against the wooden planks.

Sam just shook his head and sighed. "A priest?" He chuckled as he followed. "Remember Blues Brothers" When they went to see the Nun" You have that feeling here?"

"I'm Jake, you're Elwood," Dean quipped, mostly because everyone knew Jake was the cooler of the pair. "You smell that?" he asked, before getting very far, picking up the vague scent of sulfur in the air.

"You got the height right." Sam sniffed the air, then a nod. "You said he was a priest' Someone follow him home?"

Dean halted a moment to glare over his shoulder at his brother. "I'm not that short." Hell, he wasn't short at all; Sam was just overgrown. "I hope not," he replied. "Because then I'm gonna have to kick someone's ass, and I haven't even had breakfast yet." He turned back around, reaching inside his jacket for his father's Colt, since he'd insisted on Sam carrying the Patterson.

According to legend, Samuel Colt had specially made the Patterson for a hunter back in 1835, and it was said to be capable of killing most supernatural creatures. It had, however, proved useless against Lucifer.

Sam checked the weight of the pistol, then gave Dean a look. "Well, let's do this, I am ready for an egg white omelette."

Dean arched a brow. "Egg white" You worried about your cholesterol at a time like this?"

"Some of us don't like everything as unhealthy as others, Dean."

"We just put Lucifer in time out and you're worried about your diet?" Dean asked incredulously. Once he reached the landing where Greg's apartment was located, he waved a hand to silence his brother.

"Maybe I don't like the Garbage Pail Breakfast you do, okay' Has nothing to do with Chol..." He trailed off and drew out the Patterson.

Dean scowled, making a mental note to further discuss his eating habits with his brother later, but now was not the time.

Sam never understood why his brother liked going to places with old, heavy women in polyester brown slacks anyway, but he checked the landing, looking off to the right, then the left, before finally giving Dean a nod.

Dean reached for the door and was surprised to find it unlocked and partially ajar. He tossed a worried look at his brother.

A shrug as Sam leaned against the outside of the door frame, and pursed his lips. Another nod, meaning he was ready to provide cover fire.

Dean raised the gun in a two-handed grip and pushed the door slowly open with the toe of a boot.

Sam let out a breath, and stood his ground while waiting for the signal from Dean.

What Dean saw beyond the door made his heart sink. The place was in a shambles. He stepped slowly and quietly into the apartment and swept a look around.

He leaned to look to see what Dean saw, but remained quiet. Either the guy was a slob, or someone was looking for something. Sam carefully stepped over some of the man's belongings, but kept the Colt up and at the ready, making his way toward the kitchen area.

Broken glass and rubble crunched unavoidably beneath Dean's boots as he made his way through the apartment. He nodded to Sam, who was heading toward the kitchen, and he started toward the bedroom. The smell of sulfur was stronger now that they were in the apartment, but whatever demon had been there appeared to be long gone, as was Greg.

More of the same in the kitchen. Glass broken, furniture busted apart and knocked over. The fridge stood open and reeked of rotted food. Dean's friend had been gone a while. Sam waved a hand, like that would somehow clear the air in front of his nose, and blinked back watering eyes and a gag. He made his way back to the living room, finally speaking, "Dean, no one is here. No one's been here for a while."

Dean found the bedroom and bathroom as trashed as the rest of the place. When he was certain they were alone and there were no demons waiting for them, he returned the pistol to its hiding place in his jacket and retraced his steps back toward Sam. "He's gone."

"Yeah, I see that." He leaned down and picked through a few things on the floor. A Bible that looked singed and some pictures were scattered around his feet. "So, this guy knows Abaddon?"

Something caught Dean's eye and he crouched down to pick up a broken picture frame from the rubble on the floor. The photo was an old, faded picture of a woman " pretty but sad-looking " with long, dark hair.

Sam turned his head a bit as he stood to look at the picture. "Know her, too?"

He handed the photo to Sam. "I'm guessing that's Greg's mother. Abaddon knew her." He paused a moment before continuing. "In the Biblical sense."

He took the photo and looked at Dean then. "Wait, what?" Before his eyes fell back to the picture.

Dean's thoughts drifted, as they had more than once, to the kid Jesse they'd met what seemed like ages ago. Just how many half-demon bastards were there scattered around the globe, he wondered. "You heard me. The demon did the dirty with the Padre's mom."

"There are no joy buzzers or hams around here are there?" Sam looked at his brother again. "So your friend, is he like that kid?" He just stared at the picture again. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. He never talked about her. I just know Abaddon is his father." Dean had heard that from the demon himself.

"Son of that kind of Demon was a priest?" Sam shook his head and put the photo on the mantle that seemed to be the only thing left standing in the room.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered under his breath, taking another look around. There seemed to be no clues anywhere as to where Greg might be, but it seemed pretty obvious to him that the man hadn't gone willingly. "We're too late."

"Any idea?" Sam looked at his brother, and for the first time in a long time he saw concern for someone other than himself.

"Where would you go if you were him?" Dean had a few ideas, but he wanted to see what Sam thought.

"Abaddon, I'd go to Hell. Your friend" Hopefully didn't."

Dean paused a moment in thought, considering the possibilities.

"I mean think about it, Dean. Abaddon was pretty high up on the food chain. Chaos and insanity. If I were him I'd want to establish my leadership."

"If I was Greg, I'd make like Houdini and disappear. If I was Abaddon, I'd want to take over where Lucifer left off." He hated saying it; the implications weren't very good. But with Lucifer and Michael out of the picture, Heaven and Hell were most likely in chaos, and it was anybody's guess who came out on top.

"What' Reign on Earth, while your soldiers all fight for scraps and steps up the ladder" That makes no sense, Dean."

"No, take over control in Hell."

Sam nodded then. "So your friend, can he just vanish away, or did Abaddon take him?"

Dean turned to look at his brother. "If you were banished to Hell for all eternity and suddenly found yourself free, what would be the first thing on your to-do list' I'd want revenge against those who put me there."

He only nodded. "So, instead of Lucifer out to wear me, and Michael locked down, Abaddon's going after....Cas?"

Dean moved over toward the window and pushed the curtains aside to take a peek out into the streets, looking for he didn't know what, but something. "I don't know. Maybe. Whatever he's got planned, Greg is part of it."

Sam was a little confused now, trying to sort things out. "Is he possessing Greg" Or Greg is just his son' The son of the Destroyer?" He sighed, "Sounds like a bad movie."

"Our whole lives are like a bad movie."

"And....cut." Sam couldn't help himself. "That's a wrap, good work, people."

Dean turned away from the window, quietly thinking. "How many archangels are there" We only know of four. What if there are more?"

"I don't know what to say, Dean. If he is in Hell, I don't know how we can go about getting him out. Is that something we really want to go poking around in again?" Then he shook his head, "I don't see where you are going. What if there were more" Cas said there was a legion. That would make me think there were more than four."

"Because if Abaddon is an archangel, that makes him harder to kill."

"The lore says he's a fallen angel, one of the first in fact."

"One of Lucifer's brothers?"

"Some lore even says he's the Anti-Christ."

"Or he's trying to create the Anti-Christ."

"With your friend?"

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know." Dean sighed, frowning.

Sam sighed then, looking at Dean. "We are going to need something big enough to deal with Abaddon."

Dean could think of no way they were going to be able to track Greg down, whether Abaddon had taken him or whether he'd gone into hiding. It was just like that kid Jesse, disappeared without a trace. "Like what? Send him into the pit like we did Lucifer" I'm not willing to open that can of worms again and risk setting that son of a bitch free."

"Maybe he did a Houdini, and this is just Abaddon's temper tantrum." Motioning around at the mess. "And as far as something to take out one that powerful, I really don't know, Dean."

"We could borrow Cas' sword again, but we'd still have to find him first. Looks like it's back to square one, Sammy." Dean looked around the apartment sadly, feeling worried about Greg and hoping to hell Sam was right and Greg had gone into hiding.

"You know, just once, I would love to drop in on some old acquaintance and have coffee or something, without hearing, "By the way, we have a problem.?"

"Wanna get some breakfast?" Dean interrupted, his stomach rumbling loudly. "I can't think straight on an empty stomach."

"No Denny's?"

"Long as they have coffee, I'm good."

Sam looked around the place, then at Dean again. The guy was actually Dean's friend, and he wondered how he'd gotten that close to his brother. "We'll figure out something."

"Yeah, I know." Dean cracked a weak smile, mostly for his brother's sake. He really wasn't sure about this one. His gut told him they'd run into Greg and Abaddon again at some point, but he'd prefer it was on their terms, not the demon's.

"Come on, we can go stare at waitresses." Sam pulled open the door.

Dean's smile widened. "Only if they're good looking."

"Then no Denny's.? Sam stepped out of the man's wrecked place. "I really hope that your friend's safely hidden somewhere."

Dean pushed off his lean against the window frame and followed his brother to the door, a final glance at the photograph on the mantel, hesitating a moment before deciding to take it with him. "That makes two of us." And out he went.

Sam followed his brother, after pulling the door closed.

"Greg's dead, Dean," Castiel said, with no inflection in his voice whatsoever. Whether he felt any remorse over the man's death, it didn't show in his voice.

"What do you mean he's dead?" Dean shot a look at the angel, his expression one of shocked disbelief, and then realization dawned on him. "Abaddon, that son of a bitch," he growled.

The angel shook his head. "He killed himself, Dean. Slit his own wrists."

"How do you know?"

"He was praying when he did it. I answered his call."

"And you couldn't save him?"

"It's what he wanted."

"So, God is sanctifying suicide now?"

"God had nothing to do with it."

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean dropped onto the lumpy hotel mattress and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.

"Jesus had nothing to do with it either."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel, unsure at first if the wisecrack was intentional, deciding it wasn't. "What happened?"

Castiel frowned at the man who'd become his friend. "He didn't want to be Abaddon's puppet."

"I can relate to that." Dean withheld a shudder at the thought of how close he'd come to becoming Michael's vessel. He still wasn't quite sure how Sam had escaped Hell and ditched Lucifer, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was he had his brother back.

"Dean..." Cas interrupted his thoughts. "You know what that means." It was not a question.

Dean scowled in annoyance. "Yeah," he replied. "It means Abaddon is gonna be pissed and he's likely to take it out on my ass."

"Abaddon is not a demon to be trifled with."

"Yeah, well....He's just another demon to me, and he's gonna end up like all the rest."

The angel didn't seem very comforted by Dean's bravado. "Dean, I'm serious. They don't call him the Destroyer for nothing."

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, okay?" Dean got up from the bed and crossed the room to take a peek outside. He knew he didn't have much time before Sam returned with coffee. There was so much he hadn't told his brother, so much he didn't know and would never understand.

"What about Spade and the baby?" Dean asked, unable to hide the concern from his voice.

Cas frowned, looking almost sad. It was hard to tell with the angel. His expression rarely changed. "The child is no more, and the fae woman has returned to Rhydin."

Dean was glad his back was to the angel. He didn't want him to see the tears that were filling his eyes or the grief and regret that were apparent on his face. "And Quinn?"

There was a short pause before the angel answered. "I am not sure. I'm sorry, Dean, but you don't belong there."

"Yeah," Dean replied quietly. "I know." He'd been happy for a little while, or so he thought. With Quinn, with Lisa. But the truth was they were both better off without him. Safer. Someone else would come along someday, someone who could give them everything they wanted and deserved. His place was with Sam. It always had been and it always would be.

Dean wiped a hand across his face to dry the tears. Sam would be back soon with his breakfast burrito, and he didn't want him asking any stupid questions. Maybe he'd tell him about it all someday, maybe when they were old and gray, if they were lucky enough to live that long.

"Dean, it's not your fault," Castiel interrupted his thoughts again.

Dean snorted and let the curtains fall back into place in front of the window. He knew the angel was right, but it didn't make him feel much better. It didn't matter if it was his fault or not. No one could be blamed for the choices he'd made but himself. He'd tried to do the right thing, but his life had never been black and white. There were too many shades of gray.

"If it brings you any comfort, Greg is at peace now."

Dean dropped into a chair and closed his eyes, feeling suddenly weary. Why did he ever think putting Lucifer in time-out would be the end of things? There was no end. Not until he was six feet under....again. He almost envied Greg. For him, the struggle was over. What Dean wouldn't give for just a little peace. "Thanks for letting me know."

The angel watched the man quietly. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know he was your friend."

Dean leaned over, head in hands, silently acknowledging the angel's apology. There were no words for how he felt. There was nothing he could say to make anyone understand. He had tried to do what he could for Greg and had failed. The fact that the man was now at peace gave him little comfort.

Anger welled up inside him. Anger at the unfairness of it all. Anger was better than grief. He'd do what he'd been doing all his life and push the grief down deep inside, drown it in a glass of Jack, and focus on the anger.

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch if it's the last thing I do," he growled, clenching his jaw, eyes flashing with anger, but the angel was already gone. He'd passed along his message and returned to wherever it was that he'd come from. Heaven or wherever. Dean didn't really know or care.

"I'm sorry," he said, lifting his eyes heavenward, unsure if Greg would hear him or even care. "I'm sorry for everything." For Greg, Spade, Quinn, Lisa, Jo, Ellen, everyone he'd ever met and let down, for whatever reason. But there was no going back; he could only look forward. His life was about Sam now, and like his father before him, he'd have his revenge one demon at a time.

((Author's Note: Re-posting this here for the sake of continuity.))