He stands in the doorway, a gun in his hand. Its cocked, but it's not aimed at anything but the floor. Castiel tries to take a step back, but he's already pressed against the wall. He keeps a nervous eye on the unfamiliar intruder, wishing he had an escape. He's all too familiar with this trapped feeling, but this is different, worse.

"Hendrickson?" Dean says in both shock and confusion as he watches the man.

The man grins, an evil grin that doesn't show any kindness. "Dean Winchester. It's been a while, huh?"

"Years," Dean replies, his eyes wary. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you guys," the man, Hendrickson, answers lazily, pacing slowly in a way that conveys confidence and control, not nervousness.

"Who are you?" Michael asks. There's no surprise that it's him; if anyone would step up to the plate in a situation as dangerous as this, it would be Michael.

"I'm a lot of people," Hendrickson replies. "I'm a friend, I'm an enemy. I'm a cop, and I'm a killer." And apparently a total cliché.

"What are you talking about?" Michael demands.

"Well, I suppose I should explain," he agrees. "You all know me, whether you realize it or not, and I definitely know you. I've been around since before your folks died. Well, of course I have been. I'm the one who killed 'em.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Dean! You should have known. I mean, your daddy met me just a week after your mom died. And who else was around when he kicked the bucket? The robber? I'm gonna let you in on a secret. That robber didn't have a gun. And isn't it convenient that no one else lived to tell what happened?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean growls. "I'll kill you. I swear to god, I will kill you. I don't care what it takes."

"Dean, you're not the one with the gun," Castiel hisses.

"Thank you, Castiel," Hendrickson replies in an overly friendly tone.

"How do you know my name?" Castiel asks, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it strong. He sounds weak. He is weak. Right now, he doesn't care about that. There are much more pressing matters at hand.

"Oh, I know all about you, Castiel," Hendrickson replies. "See, I like you. I have since I held your mother under that water eleven years ago and felt as the life left her. You were always my favorite. No offense intended to the rest of you, of course, but Castiel is just... Special.

"Maybe it's because when I look at you, I see a younger me. I have since I got to know you — from a distance, of course. Everyone here had some sort of reaction to hearing that poor Becky drowned. Chuck became a published author — your mom always loved those books of his. And, if you're wondering, Dad's on a little vacation right now, courtesy of a little false tip I gave him about where to find me. Michael became a nerd — or more of a nerd than he was. Lucifer became... him. I don't think anyone can explain you, Lucifer. Gabriel's the class clown, which I'm thinking was probably to balance out the pain of losing your mom. Then it just became who you were.

"And then Castiel, the only other person old enough to process what happened. This is when I decided I liked you — and I don't like a lot of people. See, when you found out your mom was dead, you went into hibernation. You stopped talking to everyone. Not only that; you stopped liking everyone. And that is exactly what I was hoping for."

Every bone in his body tells him not to say anything. This man is clearly insane, and he knows that he shouldn't be talking to anyone this crazy, that he shouldn't be listening to anyone this crazy. But curiosity gets the better of him.

"Why?"

"Because that's how you should be," Hendrickson replies. "You don't know how many people I've killed in my time, just to watch their family and friends' reactions, and you are the first person do ever do it right. Everyone else goes weeping into someone's arms. No one realizes that that's not what you're supposed to do! You are the only person I have ever met who took it as the inevitable. Everyone dies at some point, so you might as well say goodbye to them now!

"But then you had to meet Dean. Him moving to Sioux Falls was never part of the plan, and it couldn't have gone worse. I mean, seriously, Castiel. You were doing amazing. You didn't have friends, your family ended in blood. And then you let Dean run away with your heart and whatever other pansy stuff you want to throw in there. And now you've got friends, too, and you love your brothers again. You can't do that, Castiel! I thought you, of all people, would understand this. Something always happens to them. Starting, of course, with today."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asks.

"Who's your favorite brother?" Hendrickson asks, ignoring the question.
"I don't have a favorite brother," Castiel replies without hesitation.

Hendrickson sighs and holds up the gun, aiming it at Castiel's chest. "I have three bullets in here, and though I don't think I'll need more than that, I do have more." To emphasize this, he reaches into his pocket to show another one. "So I will ask you again. Who is your favorite brother?"

"Um..." Castiel has to think about this. He loves all his brothers, and his sister as well. Though he will admit that he loves them at slightly different amounts, he can't pick a single favorite. He has two. How is he supposed to choose?

"I think we can all agree that I am his favorite brother," Gabriel announces.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam hisses.

"I don't know yet," Gabriel responds in a whisper, but it carries in the dead silence of the room. "Probably something stupid."

"Are you?" Hendrickson asks. "Or Lucifer? The competition is definitely you two, I'll give you that much. But this question is for Castiel and Castiel alone. So, Castiel, who's your favorite?"

Castiel wishes he didn't have to pick. This is by far the hardest decision he's ever been faced with, and his only escape would be the other side of the gun. His mind is full of flashbacks, from their childhood to now, of the boys. Lucifer, the protector that also loved to have fun. Gabriel, his best friend for the first four years of his life, the one who made him laugh all the time. How does he choose?

"Come on, Castiel. We don't have all day."

Castiel takes another moment to think before answering at last.

"Lucifer."

Hendrickson nods slowly. "Yes. That works," he approves. "Now choose."

"What do you mean, choose? I just chose."

"No, not them," Hendrickson replies as if it's obvious. "Lucifer or Dean? One person dies tonight. Your choice. Who do I shoot? Your favorite brother, or your lover?"

Castiel's eyes widen as the importance of this choice hits him. He's saving a life tonight, and he's taking one, too. How is he supposed to do this? This is a choice he could never make. He doesn't care what's on the line for him. He is not choosing.

"No," Castiel says softly. "Neither."

"Ooh, sorry. Not a choice here. Who am I shooting? Lucifer or Dean?"

"You can't — you can't make me choose," Castiel stammers. He's given up trying to sound composed. He's not. Not at all.

"Really? Because I'm the one with the gun here, remember?" Hendrickson waves it around before returning it to its previous position; aimed at Castiel's heart. "Make your choice."

Castiel looks around the room. Everyone is watching him, and he can see that they're as terrified as he is. He looks up at Dean, who gives him a small, reassuring smile. He takes Castiel's hand and squeezes it lightly. Castiel looks over at Lucifer, who gives him a slight nod, telling the younger boy that it's okay to choose him.

Finally, Castiel returns his gaze to Hendrickson. "I choose me."

Hendrickson just laughs. "Oh, you silly, naïve little boy. I'm doing this so you stay alive! That's the whole point of this! Your choices are Lucifer or Dean. So choose."

"If you're not going to kill me, what leverage do you have?" Castiel challenges. "You can't make me choose."

"Can't I?"

In one swift movement, so fast Castiel can't register what has happened, the gun is suddenly pointed at Castiel's foot. The only way to describe what he feels is an explosion; his foot explodes with pain as the bullet digs its way inside. Castiel bites his lip, but even that can't stop him from crying out in pain.

Instantly, Dean's arm is around him, steadying him and holding him up so Castiel doesn't have to stand on that foot. Though it helps, it isn't a total relief. His foot is pounding, throbbing. It hurts in a way Castiel has never felt before.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean growls. "Just shoot me and let everyone else go."

"Ah ah ah! No can do. Where's the fun if Castiel doesn't choose for himself?" Hendrickson smiles, as if the thought of what he's doing is the happiest one he can think of.

"'Fun'?" Dean echoes. "You think this is fun? Oh, you poor, sorry son of a bitch. What, mommy and daddy didn't love you enough, so you decided to make sure no one had a happily ever after?"

Hendrickson chuckles at his boldness. "I killed my mom and dad," he replies, his grin making it clear he thinks of this as a good time. "And you know why? The same reason I'm here right now. Because I could. And sure, I could kill everyone in this room. But I could also have some fun with it, make it a game. So that's what I did. And now, all I need is for Castiel to play his part." He looks back to Castiel. "Well?"

"I'm not choosing," Castiel says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but you are," he replies. "It just might take a little nudge in the right direction. Hmm... I've heard the kneecaps are fun. Want to try it?"

"Go ahead."

Castiel says it with confidence, with authority. He doesn't believe Hendrickson will do it. He still wants Castiel in working order. That makes the shock when he feels a piercing pain in his knee that much worse. He cries out, staggering slightly on his one leg. He may have fallen completely, had he not had his human crutch.

"Cas, just pick me and stop it!" Dean practically yells, though Castiel can barely hear it.

Castiel could deal with the pain of a shattered foot — he has no doubt the bullet shattered it. The kneecap is worse, and that's something he just cannot ignore. He feels tears well up in his eyes, and though he tries to fight them, he can't.

"Well, Castiel?" Hendrickson prompts.

"No," Castiel manages to get out.

Hendrickson sighs. "Then let's try it this way. Choose, or I'll shoot them both."

That's all the incentive Castiel needs. "Alright, I'll pick," he concedes. He looks between the two boys. He needs them both too much for this. How is he supposed to choose? But he knows he has to; he's not letting them both die.
He looks over at Lucifer, who says with a sad sort of smile, "Pick me. Destiel must go on, no matter what."

Usually, Castiel finds any mention of the ship annoying, but now, it brings a slight smile to his sad face. It's oddly comforting, knowing that no matter what, Lucifer is himself. Nothing changes with him, even is a situation like this.

Castiel looks at Dean next, silently begging for help. Dean squeezes his shoulder in a reassuring way.

"It's okay," Dean whispers. "You can pick me. Keep your family together. I don't mind."

"Come on, Castiel," Lucifer is practically begging now. "Either a soon to be pro football player, or the guy who has to memorize the entire Bee Movie script just to pass physics. It's not a hard decision."

"Cas, look at me," Dean pleads. "Pick me. It'll be okay. You can stay with your family. It's what you deserve. Please, Cas. Pick me."

Castiel can't choose. He loves these two so much, and here they are, asking him to let them die. How is he supposed to do that? How is it even possible that he choose one? He wishes it could be him that dies. If only that were an option, but it's not. He actually has to pick.

He hesitantly raises his gaze to Hendrickson. He knows what he has to do. He knows who he has to pick, and he knows how this will play out. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he's about to do. He's going to choose.