Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The driving rain is so fierce, Baby sounds like she's being stoned. Ordinarily, Dean would hesitate to put his number one girl through that sort of thing; right now, he doesn't even notice, except the thick curtains of water shrouding the windshield are making it harder to find what he's looking for.

"Didn't know it was hurricane season," Sam says from the copilot seat. An off-hand remark not intended for reply, so Dean doesn't give one. Sam is leaning forward, hands on the dash, the better to peer into the punishing weather outside.

Baby crawls along at a snail's pace; she doesn't mind.

"I told him to stay put!" Dean snaps after another tense moment, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles stand out white.

"We'll find him."

"Yeah? Before or after the other angels? Or demons? Or friggin' Lucifer? This is my fault, Sam. If anything happens to him-"

"Dean," Sam interrupts as Dean nearly hyperventilates with the knowledge that Cas wouldn't be in this mess if not for him. "If you hadn't banished the angels, we'd all be dead now. Including Cas. He saw what you were doing, he gave you the signal to go ahead."

"You heard him on the phone. If he broke his wing in the landing, how's he gonna run if someone else finds him first?" For all Dean knows, Cas has already been found and taken back to Heaven, and god only knows what might be in store for him there. And damn it, Cas was as stoic as they came, so for Dean to have been able to hear the pain in his voice on the phone, it had to be bad.

Rain continues to pound; visibility is practically nil. A city and the name of a store is all Cas was able to give them before his phone gave up, but he wasn't at any of the three locations they've checked so far and Dean is starting to get desperate. Maybe there's a perfectly plausible reason why the angel wasn't where he'd said he would be.

Dean's heart pounds faster, as do his Baby's wheels.

"Dean!" Sam's deep tenor shatters the tense silence, his arm shooting across Dean's line of vision to point out the driver's side window.

Even without seeing what Sam sees, Dean yanks the wheel and slams on the brakes, bringing his baby to a graceless halt on the side of the road. Through the sheets of rain, he sees a figure huddled in a tight ball, pressed as close to the wall of an alley as he can manage. The figure is wearing a tan trench coat and that's all Dean needs.

Ignoring the rain entirely, he rips off his seatbelt and bolts from the car, pounding through deep puddles and tripping down beside the lonesome figure.

Cas looks up at him, windblown and drenched and grimacing in pain, but alive.

"Cas!" Dean gasps as rivulets of rain stream through his hair and down his cheeks. In the mere two seconds it took to get from the car to the angel, he's soaked to the bone. Cas is so waterlogged, he might have just stepped out of the ocean.

"You f-found me," Cas murmurs, unwinding himself with stiff, heavy movements. His teeth are chattering. "I had to m-move. Angels…"

"It's alright, we gotcha," Sam booms over the sound of driving rain splattering off concrete and metal. "Come on, let's get you up."

Each brother takes one of Cas's arms and helps lever the angel up to his feet; neither fail to notice the sharp gasp he emits at the change in position, presumably from the broken wing they can't see. It's not a good sign, but maybe not surprising, given how fast he seems to be losing power these days now that he's cut off from Heaven.

The trio stumbles back to the waiting Impala, her doors still open with concern and invitation. The back seat is spread with towels, a testament to Sam's foresight, though they won't be nearly enough to get Cas dry and warm again. They'll just have to make do until the first motel they find.

All three of them are shivering by the time everyone's piled back into the car. Baby's vents blare with heat, and it helps a little. It's a good thing Cas is an angel, Dean thinks, because damn if he hasn't been sitting out in that freezing rain for hours, the threat of discovery looming with every passerby. Not that anyone else is out in this weather.

"You good?" Dean asks to the rearview mirror, waiting until he's caught Cas's worn eye and gotten a nod. Dean nods back and puts the Impala back in drive. He's all too aware of the mess he's making, puddles already forming on the floor mats, but he'll deal with that later. First: "Cas, I'm sorry, man. I didn't know what else to do."

It takes the angel a minute to answer, but Dean's anxious gaze sees him in the reflection and Cas looks tired rather than annoyed.

"You d-did the right thing," he assures Dean, lessening some of the guilt. "I'll be alr-right."

Dean and Sam trade a look in the front seat, then Dean returns his attention to the task of finding a motel where they can warm up and dry off. They'll have to see what can be done about Cas's wing, and meanwhile they need to stay out of sight of angels or demons. Since this whole business with the Apocalypse started, Cas has proven nothing but loyal, protecting the Winchesters at every turn. It's not even in question that they do the same for him now.

Almost as though hearing the thought, Cas stutters, "Th-thanks for finding me."

Dean shakes his head. "We'll always find you." Even if they have to track him down in the heart of the city in the pouring rain. Because Cas is one of them.

Chapter Text

"Das ist lächerlich," Dean grumbled, scowling at the rows of herbs and various spell ingredients on the counter of the Bunker's kitchen. "Repariere es!"

Castiel rolled his eyes and replied—yet again—"I'm trying to fix it. If you'd just give me a moment-"

"Wir haben keinen Moment! Beeile dich!"

"I am hurrying. Maybe you want to read the potion instead?"

"C'est en araméen," Sam snaped from the other side of the counter. From the way he was looking at the spell book—which was indeed written in Aramaic—it might have personally wronged him.

Castiel tried to bite his tongue, but he was at the end of his rope with these two. "Maybe if you had listened to me when I said don't go after the witch alone, you wouldn't be in this mess," he retorted. "Maybe you would still be speaking English right now. Although," he couldn't help but add testily, "you don't seem to be much more proficient with your own language, if you fail to understand a very simple 'wait until I get there'."

"Leck mich am Arsch, Cas!"

The angel looked up from the book to give Dean a withering look; he wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

"Nous devons nous dépêcher," Sam insisted, gesturing to the spell book. "Elle va s'échapper."

"As I already told you," Castiel growled, "I'm hurrying as fast as I can. And yes, she probably is going to escape. You have no one to blame but yourselves. At least you managed to get her book, if nothing else. Sam, hand me an owl skull." He took the offered bone and crushed it with the heel of his hand in the shallow brass bowl laid out on the counter.

"Wenn ich sie finde…" Dean muttered, punching his fist into an open hand, as though the vague threat against the witch was contributing anything.

Across the counter, Sam frowned. "Quelle?" He turned to Castiel. "Qu'a t'il dit?"

"Nothing," Castiel answered. He was too tired of translating back and forth for each Winchester's benefit to continue being the middle man.

"Was hat er gesagt?" Dean asked on cue.

"Nothing!" Castiel snapped louder, throwing the last of the ingredients into the bowl. The witch's curse was frustratingly effective, the hunters unable to work together or even focus on the hunt with their disrupted language in so much chaos. The sooner he put them back to normal, the better. Taking a breath, he read the spell word for word in the ancient Aramaic.

A flash lit the kitchen, leaving spots in Castiel's eyes as he watched the boys both blink away their own blindness.

Dean sighed with relief and gave his head a shake. "Jsme zpátky do normálu?"

All three of them froze. Castiel stared at Dean, then squinted down at the spell book. No, they were not back to normal. Dean might not have been speaking German anymore, but Castiel wasn't sure why the hunter had merely switched to Czech instead of reverting back to his native English. He had read everything correctly… hadn't he?

"Um…"

"Um?" Sam repeated, hysteria building in his tone. "Cas, o que você fez?"

"I didn't do anything!" the angel protested. Unless Sam just happened to know a little Portuguese and they were toying with him, but they sounded too panicked for that. "I just read the counterspell, I- that should have worked! I don't understand… oh."

"OH?" both brothers repeated, the exclamation universal.

Castiel offered the pair a sheepish shrug. "There's a smudge on the page. I needed two owl skulls. And… oh, it looks like we haven't got any more. I'll go find some. Just… sit tight, you two."

Really, it was their own faults, Castiel reminded himself again; the furious shouts followed him out the door as the angel fled.

Chapter Text

Nevermore

The midnight was dreary, bleak December rustling outside my chamber door. Rain was tapping, tapping, tapping on the window as I stared deep into the darkness. I am old; so very old. What was a little bit of rain, a quiet thunder rumbling? Just a storm, and nothing more.

Lightning flashed, illuminating my own visage in the window by the door. Rolling thunder, swiftly cracking, drew a moan from the man bound to the table at my back. I smiled; my reflection followed suit. Together, my countenance and I bared our fangs and turned towards the hunter as his blood dripped slowly, slowly, slowly to the floor.

He was tall and strong and muscled, mussed hair damp with sweat and gore. Flannel and denim formed the wrapping for my dinner, blood like wine but twice as sweet. His heart beat faster; a siren song. Thrice I'd fed on him with no intent to let him slip away. Long this man could feed me, my blood lust a beastly monster like nothing ever seen before.

I lowered my face to the hunter's throat and suckled greedily for that life-giving nectar I adore. His arms jerked at leather bindings, pulling, pulling, pulling weakly to avoid my fangs. All for nothing; no one escapes a vampire's kiss. He cried out once, face guant and ghastly, in harmony with the sudden rapping at the door.

I straightened swiftly, quite choleric at the interruption to my latest score. Again, the knocking, blasted knocking, preceding an explosion of noise as the door was blown aside. More visitors; pitiable wretches. One was another hunter, freckles splashed like constellations across a wrathful, fearsome face. The other, an angel with wings just like a raven's, which no monster could ignore.

An angelic raven, right there at my door.

"Sammy!" cried the hunter, machete glinting, stained with the blood of monsters he had killed before. He came in charging, either for me or my helpless victim, and his heart was beating, beating, beating, tantalizing to the point that I could scarcely think. I craved his blood; I needed to drink. Faster than the lightning outside the window, I grabbed the freckled boy and threw him against the wall. Then the raven raised both wings and weapon, burning like a god of yore.

"I've never tasted angel blood," I moaned with need, and then I swore. How could I contain myself, fangs still dripping, dripping, dripping warm liquid down my chin. This was a treat; one I would savor. "Do you know how long I've yearned for sweeter wine? Come, try and take him, and I'll feast on you like so many others here before."

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Then fiercely he flew forward, great wings flapping as he crossed the floor. Barely could I dance aside, skewered by his plutonian glare, and nearly his flashing blade as well. My fear was strong; my lust was stronger. Crazed I must have looked, grinning at the raven, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core.

I never saw him move, blinded by a flash of lightning visible from the window by the door. At first I thought he'd flown right by, until I realized the lightning was the silver of his blade. I choked on blood; it was my own. Wide and shocked, my eyes sought the raven whose angelic weapon had pierced my immortal body. And then I fell down to the floor.

Light was spurting, spurting, spurting, from the wound like I had never felt before. Orange and wrathful, it filled my vision, collapsing on itself until all I saw was him. It was the raven; angelic raven. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered, ripping his blade from my heart. One word followed my spirit from my shell upon the floor.

The word was "Nevermore."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

One of Them

The bus pulls into the station a few minutes ahead of schedule, so Castiel doesn't rush to get out. He waits until everyone else has headed for the door, partly patient but mostly hesitant. He hopes he isn't making a mistake… the whole point of running with the tablet was to protect Sam and Dean.

But they've been so insistent that he come back, the few times he's accepted their calls, so sure that they're stronger together. Castiel finds himself dwelling wistfully on that sentiment, a deep ache tightening around his tired soul. But he can't forget nearly killing Dean in that crypt, watching in his mind's eye as he is used to destroy his best friends.

Then again, sometimes he can also see Naomi, using the boys to get to him, hurting Sam and Dean in order to reel him in. Castiel wouldn't put it past her, and he'll be better able to prevent it if he's there to watch over them.

So he's traveled back to where the Winchesters are, telling himself it's for their safety.

The truth is, he's being selfish and he knows it. Castiel feels utterly alone, and that's a cold, deep feeling that leaves him numb. His siblings hate him. His father left him.

The truth is, Castiel is starving for somewhere to belong.

Feeling weighed down by more than just the burden he's hiding within himself, Castiel trudges off the bus at the end of the line. Passengers are greeting family and friends who have arrived to meet them. Castiel enjoys watching these reunions, the genuine delight people find in each other's company. He pauses to observe as nearly every one of them is met with an embrace.

Surrounded by such fellowship, the ache of his own loneliness deepens.

"Cas!"

Surprised at the sound of his name, Castiel turns to see Sam hurrying towards him, beaming. He wasn't expecting them to be here yet. And until that moment, he hasn't realized how desperately he wanted them to be. Something in his chest releases a little.

"Sam."

Caught up in the greetings he's just witnessed, Castiel starts to raise his arms before catching himself and immediately pulling away. He looks down as his heart constricts again. Hopefully Sam didn't notice the move. After everything that's happened, they aren't likely to meet him with literal open arms.

Sam pauses, and Castiel's cheeks heat in mortification to realize that Sam is perceptive and couldn't have missed the movement.

Quickly, the angel clears his throat. "Where's Dean?"

"Parking. Your bus is a little early. Hey, Cas…"

Castiel has started to brush by, but he stops to turn back to Sam. Before he can register what's happening, the hunter is right in front of him, arms wrapping around Castiel tightly.

"We were really worried about you," Sam says quietly. "You just took off. What if you had needed help?"

Not, "what if we had needed you", but "what if you had needed us."

Whatever it is in his chest that's constricting, it's getting tighter and moving into his throat, and now something's wrong with his vision as everything blurs. Castiel had gone rigid when Sam first moved in, but now his body is starting to relax into the… the hug.

…Sam is hugging him.

There was a low chuckle in his ear. "Now's the part where you hug back."

"Oh." Castiel raises his arms hesitantly, hoping he's doing this right. "Right. Uh, sorry."

"Ah, there you go," Sam murmurs, sounding amused.

The hunter doesn't make a move to let go, and Castiel closes his oddly blurry eyes. The heaviness inside of him lightens with every passing second; he's never been greeted like this. He's tried not to get too close since learning from Dean that humans required "personal space", hasn't had this kind of deliberate contact before. He's never known how dearly he wanted it. Craved it.

"I, um…" he tries, finding that he's tightening his grip slightly. "I've missed you both." Is it okay to say something like that?

"We missed you, too. I'm just glad you're home."

Every burden Castiel carries is lifted in a rush, if only for that moment. Golden light like what he used to feel in Heaven from his father's presence floods the angel's being… it's like flying.

But better.

Because he's not flying alone.

The terrible lonesomeness fades away, the ravenous need to belong somewhere starts to fill, because in this moment—in this gesture—Castiel realizes that he already does.

When Sam finally lowers his arms and Castiel steps back, he opens his eyes to find the blurriness still there, feeling strangely damp in the corners. Sam is still smiling, soul ringing with sincerity, but with expression slightly wrinkled.

"You don't get hugged enough, do you, Cas?"

Castiel clears his throat again. "I, um… I think I enjoy hugs."

Sam seems to be holding back a laugh. "Well, we'll have to try it more often then. Dean wuvs them, too."

He says it like a joke, but the punch line escapes Castiel. Sam only grins, pulling him in for another quick squeeze before backing away.

"Come on," he says, hand remaining on Castiel's arm—the touch is casual, keeping the angel grounded to the fact that he's there. "Let's go find Dean. And Cas… don't run off again. You're one of us now, we gotta stick together."

Castiel's hesitation disappears, replaced by gratitude and peace. He's never realized how warm hugs were, still feeling Sam's presence where they had made contact. It's been a long time since he felt so… whole.

He's not alone. He's one of them.

Chapter Text

Poison

"Where is he?" Dean demanded. Both hands raked through his hair. "It's been-"

"Two minutes," Sam cut over him, standing at the panic room door, looking inside with a furrowed brow and tight jaw.

"Long enough to fly his ass down here! The dick isn't gonna show, is he?"

"I'll try praying again-"

Wingbeats fluttered into the confined area of Bobby's basement, bringing an angel to a stop so close to Dean that he nearly collided.

"What," an accented voice gritted out, "gave you the impression I was at your beck and call?"

"Balthazar-"

"Let me make this crystal clear: I don't work for you. Now don't bother me again."

He cocked his head in a sarcastic nod and turned, but Dean grabbed him by the arm.

"It's Cas," he said, ignoring the livid look Balthazar was shooting at the hand on his arm. "He needs help."

"So… help him," Balthazar snapped while brushing Dean's hand away. "Why, where is he?"

Sam and Dean traded a look, then Dean stormed back to the panic room door and wrenched it open with a nod of invitation.

Still shooting him annoyed looks, Balthazar stepped to the threshold and glanced in; immediately, his face went blank.

"No! Don't… don't!" Cas flung his arms up to shield himself, tucked back in the tightest corner of the room with his knees pulled up to his chest. With his head ducked, they couldn't see his face, but Dean already had the image etched in his brain: absolute terror.

"What-" Balthazar started, but fell silent as Cas scrambled from his corner, pulling himself along the floor towards the desk and pressing behind it instead. The concrete floor he'd crossed was streaked with blood from the leg he dragged behind him. Balthazar cursed.

"Stay away from me!" Cas pleaded, voice wavering. "Please- NO! No, stop!" The cry of pain ripped from his throat left Dean unable to breathe.

"We can't get close," Sam explained. "He's hallucinating or something. He thinks he's been captured."

"So you locked him up? Oh, brilliant, you are. You know, if I'd known you two were going to be this piss-poor at taking care of him-"

"You know what?" Dean snarled. "At least we've been trying to help with this Raphael thing, where have you been?"

"Guys!" Sam shouted, shoving his way in front of Dean so he could gesture towards Cas. "We can argue later! Balthazar, you're the only angel we can trust. Cas talks about how close you two used to be. Please, if that ever meant anything to you, will you help him?"

"Of course I'll help him!" Balthazar shot back. "What do I bloody look like? How did this happen?"

Dean ran another hand through his hair, taking a deep, steadying breath. "An angel. I think there was something on the blade they stabbed him with. Cas grabbed us and flew us back here, then he started flipping out."

"He, um…" Sam cleared his throat, eyes damp. "He sounds like someone's torturing him."

Balthazar frowned and he flew inside, squatting down beside Cas and putting a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Cas's head whipped up, eyes blowing wide in terror as he thrashed to get away.

"No, please! Please, stop-" He broke off with another blood-chilling cry of agony that left Dean's heart breaking a little more.

"Castiel!" Balthazar called over him, which only sent the angel into more of a panic.

"NO! NO!"

"Damn it, there was Hellhound blood on the blade," Balthazar snarled.

Dean's mouth went dry. "Hellhound blood, what does that do?"

"THIS, dumbass! He thinks we're demons and he's in Hell. Once it finishes spreading through his system, it could leave his mind trapped there forever. Eternal torture."

No, no, no… Dean shook his head in denial as Sam gasped,

"Can you heal him?"

Balthazar's face was set in a grim line as he gritted out, "I need you to hold him down. This won't be pleasant."

Though it went against every instinct, Dean hurried to kneel over Cas with Sam right behind, taking a shoulder each to restrain him. When Cas's terrified eyes whipped between them, his breaths coming out as strangled sobs, Dean almost broke.

"Please, no more…" Cas whispered. "Please…" He tried to scramble back, but the brothers held him down—further proof how weakened he was from the poison.

"Here we go," Balthazar muttered as he held a glowing hand over the stab wound in Cas's thigh.

The howl of pain and fear was devastating, but Dean couldn't tear his eyes away as he saw black sludge start to leak out of the wound as Balthazar drew it from Cas's blood. He had to hold on as tightly as he could, watching Cas's body illuminate from Balthazar's power. They could see his veins, dark with poison but lightening more and more as the venom was pulled away.

It seemed to take forever, with Cas thrashing and crying out the entire time, but finally the blackness disappeared.

"Got it!" Balthazar pulled his hand away and the glow died down. The puddle of the Hellhound blood bubbled and hissed on the floor, eventually evaporating away while Cas slumped into an unmoving heap. Balthazar gestured for the Winchesters to let go, then carefully scooped Cas up to lay him on the bed.

"Will he be alright?" Sam asked softly.

Balthazar inhaled, all three of them looking down at the unconscious Cas. "Let him sleep. Raphael won't beat him that easy."

"Thank you," Dean whispered, still shaken as he sat next to Cas.

"You wanna thank me, do a better job protecting him."

Dean didn't even bother to retort, hearing the layer of worry beneath the ire. He turned, wanting to say more, but Balthazar was gone. At least he'd helped, though. Dean took Cas's chilled hand, expression tight. Balthazar was right… they'd have to protect him better.

They were all each other had. Raphael couldn't take that away.

Chapter Text

This was not going to end well.

Castiel held his breath as Dean ran a hand over the small wooden chest on the pedestal, situated at the center of the cavern. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to try sensing any emanating power—since it was supposedly a Hand of God. But the sigils that lined every tunnel and cavern leading them into the heart of the mountain kept his grace locked down tight.

This was too easy.

Castiel pushed the thoughts aside as he and Sam watched over Dean's shoulders with flashlights pointed at the box. This was the first lead they'd had in too long. They couldn't turn back now.

Dean gingerly unhooked the latch, leaning backwards in trepidation as he prepared to lift the lid.

Something's wrong.

The thought struck at the same time as the beam of Sam's flashlight caught a small symbol that Castiel hadn't noticed carved into the box. His eyes shot wide with immediate terror.

"Dean, stop!"

Castiel flung himself towards his friend just as Dean started to pry the lid up. The schink of metal accompanied surprised shouts from Sam and Dean as Castiel knocked all three of them off their feet. On the other side of the pedestal, the empty chest crashed to the ground and bounced, lid hanging ajar.

All the air left Castiel's lungs, crushed from the fall. He couldn't breathe. Fear flooded the angel's heart as he scrambled to his feet. His mind registered nothing but desperation for his friends. He cursed; how could they have fallen for this trap?

"Sam… D-dean… Are you- are you alright? Dean!" The chamber spun and Castiel staggered, clutching the pedestal to hold him up. A compartment had opened in the front of it, the mechanism for a weapon visible within its recesses. It had already been deployed, whatever it was, and the fear multiplied tenfold—it must have hit one of the boys.

And Castiel had no power in here to heal them.

The small wooden chest—the one with Dagon's mark, who was hardly likely to have any Hand of God—watched him mockingly, gaping lid like a mouth stretched wide in laughter that he might lose Sam or Dean for nothing. Castiel wrenched himself away from the pedestal and turned.

"Sam!" he pleaded, tripping towards the closer of the brothers.

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, pausing to stare at Castiel. Probably in shock. But there was no blood, no mark on him.

Breath hitching, Castiel turned frantically towards the other. "Dean. Dean!"

But Dean was already scrambling upright, unharmed. Like Sam, his eyes were wide and full of terror, latched unblinkingly on Castiel.

The cavern spun again as the angel looked between his friends; the ground seemed less willing to support him.

"Cas?"

It was the break in Dean's voice that hit him hardest. Castiel wanted to reach out to him in reassurance, only every movement hurt.

When he extended a hand, it knocked something hard, and Castiel hissed at the sudden spasm of pain. Suddenly afraid to look down, he gripped whatever he'd hit, inching his hand along it closer and closer until his knuckles brushed the damp material of his shirt. Confused, he felt his side.

Castiel's hand came away wet.

Oh…

"It's fine," Castiel assured them. He looked down at the bolt sticking out of his side, the insidiously spreading crimson coating his shirt and palm. "Everything's… fine." Castiel's vision blurred. At some point, his legs must have given out, because he thought he might be lying down. A chill crept into his bones from the cold of the stone, the cold of the air, the cold in his mind. The dark turned darker.

Then everything disappeared.

…

"Dean, he's back!"

"Cas! Open your eyes! Look at me! Look at me!"

It had been a while since he'd heard such panic from Dean. Castiel blinked his eyes slowly open, squinting against the sun beaming down on him. A breath of mountain air grazed his cheeks and the angel frowned as he pushed himself up to sit. "What…?"

Any further question was cut off by a violent curse and Dean's sudden haggard appearance in front of him, gripping the angel's face. "You weren't healing!"

Feeling deep within, Castiel noted the strongly thrumming grace that had put his physical shell back together. They must have carried him back out through the cavernous maze, away from the sigils, so that he could heal.

"It's alright, I'm feeling better now," he offered, examining the lines of Dean's face and the terror in his eyes. "Are you two okay?"

"Are we- Damn it, Cas!" Dean yanked Castiel forward into a crushing hug, to his surprise.

"We thought we hadn't gotten you out in time," Sam murmured hoarsely, gripping Castiel's arm. "You- your grace wasn't kicking in. I thought…" He paused, then shook his head and whispered, "You saved us."

"I'm just sorry it wasn't a Hand of God. I know how much we need-"

"I don't care about some stupid Hand of God!" Dean shouted as he jerked away from Castiel. "We almost lost you! What good is a Hand of God if we have lose you to get it, huh? It's not worth it!" He hit Castiel's shoulder with an open hand, then clenched his fingers in the material of the angel's coat. "It's not worth it," he repeated in a low whisper. "Cas…"

Castiel stared at his friend, the ferocity of Dean's words almost more of a shock than the bolt had been. He remembered Amara's cutting remarks about being used up, Ambriel's comment about being expendable. His growing worry that maybe… maybe they were right.

Suddenly Castiel was glad he hadn't let himself fall too deeply into that fear, because they were wrong. He wasn't expendable, not to the Winchesters, and they were the ones who mattered.

As long as they had each other… all was well.

Chapter Text

Angel, Traitor, Brother, Friend

Castiel tugged at the cuffs. They were tight on his wrists, attached to a hook set into the marble floor of Heaven's throne room so he could barely even sit up. Naomi seemed content to leave him there at her feet, rather than locking him in the dungeon—Castiel was too busy reeling from the horror of her apparent survival to feel any satisfaction that they were afraid of leaving him unguarded.

"Duma," Naomi greeted an approaching angel. "Any word?"

"Nothing yet," Duma reported. "But Jonas made contact with the nephilim some time ago. Likely he's still trying to establish trust."She flicked a glance at Castiel. "It won't be long, once he hears Castiel wants him to join us here."

"I will not help you," Castiel immediately maintained. He cursed himself for having trusted Duma, for letting himself be ambushed and captured by the three angels in the park.

"Castiel," Naomi tsk-ed. "Have you no interest in redeeming yourself from the traitor we all know you to be?" She rose from the throne she had no business occupying to squat in front of the manacled angel. "It's because of you our numbers are so diminished. You should be leaping at the chance to assist us."

Castiel shook his head, jaw set stubbornly. "I'm not a traitor. And I will not help you capture and enslave Jack."

"You will help us gain the nephilim's cooperation," Naomi said, standing and retreating to the throne again. "One way or another."

The threat left him cold with dread, but Castiel didn't have long to dwell on what might be in store for him, as Jonas's voice filled their ears through Angel Radio.

"Naomi, I have news."

"You have him?" Naomi asked eagerly.

"…Um… no. The Winchesters are demanding Castiel be returned."

"In exchange for the nephilim?"

"Er… in exchange for… me."

Castiel raised his head, watching Naomi's eyes tight shoulders started to loosen; Sam and Dean were coming for him. Meanwhile, Jonas grunted in pain then said,

"He wants me to speak for him."

"He?"

"This is Dean Winchester," Jonas continued, a slight waver in his tone. "Here's how it's going to go, you- you bitch. His word, not mine!" Jonas paused, Naomi's face turning puce as the other angels traded looks. "I don't know how you're still alive… but we know all about you and what you did to Cas. For your sake, he'd better be in one piece when you let him go."

"And why would I let him go?" Naomi snapped, arms folding as she began to pace. "Aside from the fact I don't negotiate with Winchesters, we need every angel left."

Another pause as Jonas apparently conveyed her message to Dean. When his voice returned to Angel Radio, Castiel could hear how shaken he sounded.

"Then it would be a shame if we… fried what was left of this one's wings, and- and declared war on Heaven. Naomi, please, they're very angry…"

Naomi huffed. "Let me think. The nephilim must have gone to them after you first spoke to him. So he's probably with them now. Perhaps we could set up an exchange and then take the nephilim while we're there-"

"You're going to release Cas first," Jonas carried on, still parroting Dean's words. "And once he's safe, we'll cut this one loose. That's the only deal we'll accept. This isn't a negotiation, it's an… ultimatum. If Cas is okay, then Heaven lives another day. If not… trust me, that is not a 'shit storm' you want coming down on you."

"And why should we believe they'll keep their word? We don't have time for this!" Naomi snapped.

Castiel shifted. "Then release me," he urged. "I will personally ensure Jonas is returned to you, and work to restore Heaven however I can." He waited until Naomi met his eyes to murmur, "I'm not a traitor. I want the angels to survive. But not by submitting myself and an innocent boy to your tortures."

"Innocent? He's-"

"Not his father," Castiel finished for her. "Maybe he can help Heaven. You want to work together?" He tugged at the manacles, making the chains rattle. "This isn't how." The idea of working with Naomi made him ill, but remaining in Heaven as her captive and bargaining chip was even worse. Naomi stood over him, jaw clenched with evident anger. Castiel didn't look away.

"They won't give up Jack," he pointed out quietly from the floor. "And with so few of you left… can you really afford to have Winchesters to contend with as well? Release me."

Naomi glowered at him for a long moment, then spun. "Duma, return the traitor to Earth," she spat out while storming from the hall. "Get him out of my sight."

Duma nodded and hurried to unlock the manacles from Castiel's wrists. He stood gratefully, eager to be away from this place and Naomi. Duma didn't meet his eyes as she escorted him back to the portal. Castiel made no effort to speak to her, either.

When they stepped through and the flash of light had dissipated, Castiel found himself face to face with Sam Winchester's livid expression, but the glare was pointed at Duma. So was the angel blade.

"Cas, you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Sam nodded, not dropping his blade as he reached out to take Castiel's sleeve and maneuver the angel behind him. "You tell Naomi," he snarled at Duma, backing away. "Touch him again, she dies. Got it?"

Duma swallowed, nodding. Sam nodded back.

"Dean will send your angel up as soon as Cas and I are clear. Go."

Again, Duma nodded then stepped back into the another flash of light, she was gone. Sam dropped his arm and spun towards Castiel.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No," he assured his friend truthfully. "Jack?"

"Safe. He was worried when that angel mentioned you wanted him in Heaven, but hadn't come yourself. He called us up and we… took care of it. Come on, let's get you home. Dean will want to know you're okay."

Home. That sounded good to Castiel. He paused though,rubbing his wrists where he still felt the cold of the manacles clamped around them. He wasn't ready yet to admit even to himself how shaken he was to know the angels were nearly extinct, or how much the idea of being Naomi's prisoner again terrified him. If his friends hadn't rescued him… "Sam. Thank you."

Sam stopped, then turned back to him. He clapped a hand to Castiel's arm. "Hey. You're our brother. Anyone trying to mess with you has to go through me and Dean. You've done the same for us."

And he would continue to do so, protecting his friends,his family, until his last breath. Castiel gave Sam a solemn nod.

Whatever happened from here, they would all face it together.

Chapter Text

Sam tried to yell a warning to Cas, but his mouth refused to open. His vocal chords were stricken inert, unable to make a sound. No matter how desperately he strained to reach the angel, no matter how insistently he begged his limbs to move, they remained paralyzed.

The only thing still functioning was his vision, able to watch every second as Cas fought to fend off the monster.

The nightmare immersed him so deeply, Sam was drowning in the fear. He willed himself to wake up.

But this wasn't a dream, and the winged half-lion, half-scorpion that could have crawled from some Hell-induced night terror was very real. And Cas was only barely holding his own.

Sam's body was slumped against the back of the shallow cave where he had fallen, unable to move after being stabbed with the tip of the manticore's venomous tail. His eyes tracked sideways to the motionless form next to him; Dean blinked back at him, as full of terror as Sam was himself.

Cas's pained grunt drew both of their silent gazes back to the fight at hand. Sam's heart flooded with dismay as the angel stumbled back with a bleeding gash in his side from the lethal lion claws. As fast as he was, the monster matched him for speed.

Roaring in victory, the manticore sliced down with its scorpion tail. Cas's scream rocked the small cave as it plunged into his chest, and there was nothing, not a single thing, that Sam could do to stop it or to help his friend. Moisture pricked his eyes; this was not how he'd imagined them ending.

The manticore ripped his tail back out, the barbed tip dislodging to remain in Cas's chest. Then with a snort, it turned its attention back towards Sam and Dean. From his research, Sam knew that they were about to be eaten alive, leaving no trace behind, just like what had happened to the missing hikers. If not for them, Cas wouldn't have even come along on this mission. If Sam hadn't insisted that the angel get out of the Bunker instead of continuing his Netflix binge, Cas wouldn't be about to die.

Guilt and shame nearly trampled out the fear in his heart as Sam watched the monster approach.

And then Cas was there.

The angel slid in between the manticore and the Winchesters, one hand pressed against his bleeding side to stem the flow and the other grasping his angel blade.

"No," Cas growled, sinking into a low crouch. "You can't have them."

The beast roared, rearing back on its hind paws in rage at the interruption. Cas only snorted.

"Your venom doesn't seem to work on angels. So you and I aren't finished yet."

It swiped with one massive paw, but Cas dodged aside, slashing with his blade as he went to deter the manticore from trying to slip past him closer to the paralyzed Winchesters. Again and again, he fended the monster off, protecting the hunters, but he was still wounded and flagging. And there was next to nothing that could kill a manticore.

Sam could only watch, heart thudding, gut twisting, fearing each and every slash of the manitcore's claws or swing of its tail would be the blow that ended the fight. But Cas refused to give an inch, no matter how ragged his breaths came. Even when he scored a direct slice with his blade, the manticore did little more than howl in anger and dodge backwards a pace.

If even the angel blade couldn't kill him, then this fight was over.

Suddenly, Cas paused. He looked down at the tip of the scorpion tail still embedded in his sternum, then grasped the exposed end. "Let's see how you like it."

With a cry, he wrenched the barb out of his body and flung himself forward. From Sam's vantage, he couldn't see what was happening, but he heard the manticore roar again—this time in agony and shock. The beast thrashed backwards, roars turning into keens. With the paws flailing wildly, Cas had to throw himself backwards, pulling Sam and Dean both in close to him and covering them with his body to protect them from any incidental slashes of the dangerous claws.

Finally, the manticore fell still and the cave was quiet. Cas sighed as he pushed himself away from the two with a groan, setting a hand on either of their heads.

Sam gasped as feeling slowly started to return, allowing him to at least move his fingers. "C-Cas," he croaked, trying out his voice. He swallowed and tried again. "Cas… you're… bleeding."

Beside him, Dean growled wordlessly and jerked his arms and legs until they moved the direction he wanted. "Hold on, buddy," he murmured as Cas slumped into the same position the hunters had just been in. "I gotcha."

Sam struggled to force himself up, but Dean recovered quicker. He peeled off his flannel, pressing it against Cas's side and chest. The angel hissed in pain.

"Sorry," Dean said, looking away. "Cas, I'm sorry."

"You couldn't move," Cas choked out. "Not your fault."

"It is our fault," Sam argued.

Cas shook his head. "I was… paralyzed, too." Succumbing to the pain, the angel passed out.

Sam and Dean traded a look as Sam finally convinced his legs to get him across the floor to where Cas sat against the wall. He thought back to the angel sitting in the darkened room, motionless on the bed with his eyes glued to the TV. And he knew exactly what Cas meant.

The paralysis of fear, equally as potent as manticore venom, had infected them all at one point.

But just like Cas had placed himself between them and a raging monster, they would protect him from his fears as well. They would stand between him and his demons for as long as it took for him to get back on his feet.

That was what family did.

Chapter Text

Besties

"Castiel? Um… Cas?"

The angel cocked his head to the side with a light frown, listening to the anxious prayer. It wasn't a voice he recognized, but she clearly knew him.

"I- I don't know how this works, but if you can hear me, we need your help. And, you know, being best buds with Sam and Dean, I know you're one of the good guys… And in the books you're always jumping in to save people, so, um, we could… you know, use some saving? Oh! Oh, help, please help…"

The voice squeaked in alarm. Grasping that fear like a tether, Castiel immediately spread his wings and followed where it led. He landed in an alley, drenched within seconds as rain poured from the sky in a blinding deluge. Puddles on the cracked pavement reflected the forms of four demons. They stood in a semi-circle, enclosing two humans with their backs pressed against the wall.

One of them, Castiel knew; Kevin Tran was clutching an old book, shielding it nervously as a red-headed woman shielded him in turn with a short knife. It wouldn't do the slightest bit of good against a demon but she wielded it gamely with an expression of terror masked in fierceness.

"Hand it over, there's a good lad," one of t, he demons cooed. "Crowley's gonna want to see you two. Been a while since his kingliness had any fun."

The nearest demon took a step forward; the woman yelped and slashed out with the knife, earning nothing more than a round of raucous laughter from the attackers.

"Fiesty one, ain't she?" another demon cackled. He reached out and grabbed the woman by the wrist, hauling her towards him while she shrieked and tried to thrash away.

"Hey!" Castiel strode forward, invisible wings folding behind him. His glower darkened, a rival to the torrential sky. Lightning dropped from his sleeve in the form of a sharpened blade.

The demons straightened, trading uncertain looks, even as Kevin sighed with relief. The red-headed woman raised her eyebrows hopefully.

"…Cas?"

He lifted his chin in affirmation but didn't turn his gaze from the demons. "Leave," he growled at the hell-spawn. "Or die. I don't care which."

"After we get what's ours-" one started.

She never managed to finish, given the silver blade piercing her throat. Castiel ripped the blade back out so that blood spattered the ground. His expression remained cool.

"Anyone else?"

The remaining three retreated a pace, releasing the red-haired woman. The one who'd grabbed her hesitated, then tried,

"But… Crowley said not to come back without-"

Castiel's blade flashed again, orange spurting from the second demon's gut. The long-dead human host collapsed, empty. He turned to the last two demons, who immediately backed away. Castiel advanced far enough to plant himself squarely in front of Kevin and the red-haired woman.

"And you can tell Crowley," he snapped, "not to send any more demons after these two unless he's hoping to lose more followers. Now get out."

They fled, clouds of smoke chased by the angel's withering glare. Once they were nothing but a bad smell in the wind, Castiel turned to the two humans.

"That was wicked cool!" the woman babbled. "Seriously, the books never did you justice. You're like, Elrond and Obi-Wan mixed into one!"

Castiel raised his eyebrows, no idea what she was talking about but amused at her enthusiasm. He blinked as she punched him in the shoulder, beaming.

"You saved our asses! I'm Charlie."

"I thought you might be." The Winchesters' description of their friend did no justice, either. But he gathered she was not someone who could adequately be explained. "Are you two alright?"

"I think so," Kevin replied shakily, still clutching the book in a white-knuckled grip. "Cas… thank you. How did you know?"

"Charlie called me."

"And you really came," Charlie marveled as she reached out to grip his arm. "Out of nowhere. It was so badass. You're my new hero."

"Yes, well…" Castiel stowed his blade and rubbed the back of his head. He wasn't sure how to respond to the earnest enthusiasm. "They shouldn't trouble you again. Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

"Actually, we're trying to find Sam and Dean," Kevin said. "We didn't dare stop long enough to call. This book," he went on, gesturing to the saturated tome he was guarding. "They need to see what's in it."

Castiel nodded. "Hold tight, then. I'll get you to them."

Kevin nearly crumpled with relief, taking the angel's other arm. "Seriously, man, thank you. I thought they had us for sure. Just- I don't even know how to thank you."

Looking from one to the other, Castiel found himself taken aback by the depth of gratitude in their expressions. He cleared his throat. "Um… you're welcome. It's nothing. You're friends of the Winchesters. That makes us allies."

"Allies? We're besties now," Charlie informed him with a brilliant smile that Castiel couldn't help but find contagious and endearing, not dimmed in the slightest by the pelting rain or the danger they'd narrowly escaped.

His lips twitched and he harrumphed. As close of a family as he and the Winchesters were, he was already sure that he would thoroughly enjoy being "besties" with these two as well.

Chapter Text

Coming Home

This can't be real.

Shifter, Sam automatically thinks, though he already knows this is the genuine article. Beyond all doubt, beyond all reason, deep down Sam knows.

Cas stares back at him, eyes registering horror.

"No!" the angel exclaims before Sam can muster any words. "You shouldn't be here!"

"Sam?" Bobby asks from behind the hunter. "I thought you said you boys lost Cas?"

"We did," Sam chokes out, voice like nails and gravel. "Cas… is it really you? But Dean said…"

He doesn't wait for the angel's confirmation to close the distance between them. He doesn't wait to do the myriad of tests he should do first, because really isn't it more likely this is just a shifter? After all… Purgatory is full of monsters.

But Sam doesn't care about logic or proof. All the proof he needs is standing in front of him, in ratty white scrubs and a torn overcoat. His proof is right there, with dark circles underlining half-empty eyes.

Sam clings to that proof as he clings to Cas. "Dean said you were dead," he hoarsely whispers as Cas's arms come up hesitantly to return the hug. "I thought we'd lost you… Cas, have you been here all this time?"

His heart breaks. Not only at the idea of Cas being trapped here on his own, but also because Dean is going to shatter to learn he mistakenly left the angel behind.

"I suppose so," Cas replies, not pulling away but not engaging much either.

"But… Dean got back six months ago." Six months of living with a hole where Cas's presence used to be. Six months of Dean's guilt-ridden anger exploding at every turn. Sam becomes aware of Bobby still behind them, shifting slightly from foot to foot. It hits him then that if he hadn't come through here to rescue Bobby's soul from Hell, they might have never found Cas, and suddenly Sam can't breathe.

"Dean thought I was dead?" Cas asks.

Sam finally pulls away, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Y-yeah," he stammers. "Right as you two and the vampire were about to get through the portal."

"Hmm. I don't know why he remembers it like that."

Sam's heart stops once again. He knows his brother would not—could not—have left Cas intentionally. But then why had he remembered wrong?

"What happened?" he practically pleads.

Cas looks away. "I didn't leave with them. You and Bobby have to go. How did you even get here? You aren't dead, are you?"

"I am," Bobby supplies. "He's not. And Cas is right, it's time to get."

Sam nods. They can catch up later, after he brings Cas back to Dean. "Alright. Come on, there's a reaper waiting to-"

"Sam, I'm not going."

Castiel's eyes are full of pain. It burrows into Sam's soul.

"…What?"

He sighs. "I can't go back. All the wrong I did… I have to stay here. To atone."

Sam is not having this discussion. In his heart, he's feared this from the moment he saw Cas still alive. He grabs his friend's arm.

"No. You don't. Cas, we've all screwed up. We've all broken things. This isn't atoning. Getting back out there, fighting the good fight, that's how we make things better. We need you to come back. We need you. I know what you did, Cas. And I'm telling you, you don't deserve this."

Cas closes his eyes. "How can you even bear to be near me?"

"Because you're my friend. Nothing else matters."

Silence draws on, the grey forest eerily still as the three stand suspended in time. Sam tightens his grip, terrified the angel might fly away if he doesn't hold on for dear life.

"Please," he begs softly. "Please come back. Don't make me tell Dean I failed to bring you home. We can work this out, just please, please give me a chance."

It looks like Cas is wavering. "I'm hopeless," he tries.

"Nothing is hopeless. Not even me. Not even you."

"I broke your wall."

"I healed. Don't break me again now."

Finally, Cas meets his eyes, more sad than stubborn, more lost than found. But Sam will do anything it takes to change that.

"Okay?" he asks.

Cas pauses. Then he nods.

It's time to go home.

Chapter Text

"Wait… what did you just say?"

From the way Dean is staring, Castiel must have said something wrong. He looks between the three bewildered Winchesters.

"I was only agreeing with Mary, females can be just as fierce of warriors as males," he stammers.

"No, the other part," Dean cuts over him. "Your female vessel?"

"Oh, that." Castiel nods. "I was saying, I prefer this vessel to my female one because females of her era wore clothes that were much more cumbersome. It made maneuvering in a fight a bigger challenge."

"Right, but you were a woman?" Mary asks, eyebrow raised.

Castiel frowns, not entirely sure how to answer. "The vessel was, yes."

"We've seen that before, though," Sam points out. "Remember Raphael? Male angels in female vessels aren't-"

"Raphael wasn't male," Castiel interrupts, brow furrowing deeper in perplexity that they don't already know this. But then, how could they? It's never really come up. "Angels are sentient masses of celestial energy. We don't have gender."

"But don't you call each other 'brother' or 'sister'?" Mary points out.

"Well, yes," he admits as he shakes his head. "Based on preference. In some ways, though, it's almost arbitrary. We weren't created male and female, though many—perhaps even most—do have a stronger inclination towards one or the other. It doesn't mean that's what we are, just what we feel. Raphael wasn't male, he simply opted for masculine pronouns."

Dean's expression is twisted in confusion as he tries to parse this out. "So… if you feel like a dude, you're a dude?"

"I'm an angel, Dean. We are not 'dudes'."

"I think what he means is," Mary jumps in, "you're not male or female, but you choose one or the other to be associated with?"

Castiel considers this. "I suppose you might see it that way, yes."

"So do you pick your vessel based on their gender, or… your gender based on the vessel?" Sam wonders.

Had he known the headache of a conversation this would spark, Castiel might have kept his remarks on vessel gender equality to himself. On the other hand, he's not used to the boys showing much interest in angel culture, and it's almost pleasant to discuss. If only he had better explanations.

"It doesn't really work like that," he says. "The vessels are largely taken based on circumstance rather than choice. Remember, I took Jimmy as a vessel first because he was the adult and the most logical choice of the bloodline, but Claire was also a viable option… except Jimmy wouldn't have it. So really, he chose for me."

"Then you don't necessarily feel more inclination to be… a guy?" Sam has a look of intense concentration, like he's reading a book of lore that he's determined to understand.

Castiel shrugs. "Personally, I don't feel one way or another, so the assignment of 'brother' is a matter of convenience for my siblings. Either is acceptable. Having been human for a while, I've dealt with both the benefits and the shortcomings of this vessel, as I imagine I would have in a woman's body."

"Huh." Dean's face is still pinched, and he shakes his head. "So you used to be a chick."

Castiel gives up. His explanations don't seem to be sticking. "Sure," he helplessly agrees, though the summary isn't really what he was trying to get across at all. He notices Sam and Mary biting their lips in apparent amusement, but neither comment or correct Dean.

There's a pause. Then, Dean smirks.

"Were you a hot chick?"

"Um," Castiel frowns. "I-I'm not sure I'm qualified to answer that question. She was very beautiful, I suppose. I don't know what the requirements are to be considered… 'hot'... by human standards."

Sam throws up his hands and walks away. Mary is snickering now, also turning for the door. Which leaves Castiel with Dean, who is still not seeming to grasp the basics of what Castiel is saying.

"So Cas, tell me more about this…"

Castiel pinches his forehead. He really should have just not said anything at all.

Chapter Text

Not Alone

Sam's glower deepens, watching the demon inside the devil's trap. It's smirking back at him and Dean. His smugness makes Sam uneasy. He's pretty sure this demon knows something they don't, beyond the information they're trying to get out of it.

"I'm giving you one more chance," Dean blusters, like they can afford to kill their only lead. "What's the next Seal?"

"You think I'm scared of you and that little knife?" the demon scoffs, nodding to the blade in Sam's hand. It snickers. "You boys are way out of your league."

Sam doesn't make a move, waiting to follow his brother's lead. He doesn't want this to resort to torture. He doesn't want to go there himself, and he really wants to keep Dean away from that path. What other play do they have, though?

Dean doesn't advance. Instead, he lifts his eyes to the crumbling ceiling. "Cas," he calls. "If you can hear me, I think we've got a lead on a Seal-"

A gust of wind slams through the boards across the windows, but there's no swish of angel wings. The demon's hands are raised, its leer triumphant. Both Sam and Dean duck, covering their heads as dust rains down from the ceiling and the timber begins to creak.

"Dean?" Sam shouts, noting the uncertain grit of his brother's teeth.

The demon laughs, thrusting its hands forward. The wind roars, the gale tearing the boards away from the windows completely; the wood under their feet cracks. Dean lunges as a crevice runs from the doorway across the room—straight through the paint of the devil's trap, and now the demon is free. It grabs Dean by the throat before the Winchester can change course, then throws him into the wall to slump unmoving to the floor.

Sam doesn't stop to consider his next move, flinging himself between the demon and his fallen brother. He wields the knife as though he's unafraid, but his heart pounds. If only he could use his powers, but it's been so long since he's seen Ruby and he knows he can't count on that right now. This fight is not going to end in his favor.

"Run and hide, little boy," the demon taunts him.

Sam holds his position. He won't abandon Dean, even if it means both of them die today.

"It's more fun if I get to chase you. We have plans for you, Sam Winchester. So run. Hide. I'll be right behind you as soon as I finish with your brother."

"You're not going to touch him," Sam snarls.

The demon laughs. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you? You think I'm just some low-level nobody? I trained under Alastair himself."

"You still have to get through me, first."

Another laugh. "Even with that pig-sticker, you know you can't beat me. You're all alone and I'm too strong for you."

The wing beats are so soft, so subtle, Sam almost doesn't hear them. But the angel Castiel is now standing just in front of him, and suddenly the demon doesn't look so confident.

"He's not alone," Castiel growls, all gravel and thunder.

The demon's mouth opens, head tipping back. Clearly, it doesn't like its odds now that there's an angel in the mix; it's bailing out.

The cloud of black smoke only makes it halfway out of the host's mouth before Castiel has advanced in another flap of wings. Sam's eyes grow wide as he watches Castiel's hand shoot out, trapping the smoke, slowly shoving it back into the host. He's gaping at the show of power and now the demon writhes in fear.

"And I'm too strong for you," Castiel finishes, seething. Two fingers press against the demon's forehead and it collapses to the ground. Castiel turns slowly back to Sam.

The blue eyes are piercing and Sam can't help but look away. Castiel's first words to him echo in his shame-filled mind: "Sam Winchester… the boy with the demon blood." Had he really thought an angel, who could thrust a demon back into a host with his bare hands, would ever deign to see him kindly?

The fact is, Castiel is terrifying.

"Are you alright?" the angel asks him now.

Sam nods, turning to look over his shoulder. Dean's out but he'll be fine now. He hears a soft noise from Castiel and looks up to see the angel's eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. Not smiling—he's not sure Castiel even can smile—but seeming lighter somehow.

"He could have killed you," Castiel states. "Standing your ground was… incredibly foolhardy. And incredibly brave."

"He would have killed Dean if I'd run."

The crinkles deepen and the searching blue eyes don't release Sam's gaze. "I suppose I was wrong."

"About what?"

Castiel leans over and grasps the unconscious demon by the collar, hauling him half off the floor. "After watching humans for so long, I believed I would never be surprised by one again."

His free hand falls on Sam's shoulder; there's respect and compassion in the warm grip, leaving Sam to swallow back a sudden lump in his throat. Then Castiel is gone, and his prisoner with him.

Behind him, Dean is beginning to groan and stir, but Sam's mind reels with everything that's just happened. The sheer power Castiel possesses. The lack of animosity the angel has shown him. The solidarity in his grip.

And the utter, exhausted relief he feels in the idea that maybe they aren't as alone as he'd once believed.

Chapter Text

No Place Like Home

Sam has to catch his breath when they land, pointedly not looking at Dean—who hates flying even more than he does. In the moment, though, Sam can't even care. For the elation in Cas's eyes and the tears that they pretend not to see, it's worth it. It's all worth it.

"So the wings work," Dean grunts, thrilled in spite of whatever discomfort he may feel. Like Sam, Dean can't help but know what this means for Cas, who they never believed would fly again. "Whatever Gabriel did, looks like you're good as new."

"Yes," Cas whispers. He can't say any more than that. It's too overwhelming.

"So where are we?" Sam wonders. He looks around, then thinks with chagrin that he should have warned Cas about flying into busy areas. They're surrounded by people. Fortunately, no one seems to have noticed their sudden appearance, and the general din has masked the sound of his restored wings.

Dean turns a circle. "Wait, is this an airport? I thought you were gonna show us some of your favorite places."

"It is," Cas replies. He walks away with purpose, like he knows where he's going. After a hastily exchanged look, Sam and Dean hurry after him, following the angel past a small indoor garden to a fish pond, of all things. He picks up a packet of fish food and begins tossing it into the water.

"I guess I was expecting more like… Niagara Falls," Sam admits. "Or the Alps."

"Natural wonders never fail to lift my heart," agrees Cas. "But humanity is one of the greatest wonders of all. The Beijing International airport is the second busiest in the world. People coming and going… watch how they greet each other."

Sam sees what he means. All around, disembarking passengers are reuniting with loved ones, each with cries of joy and warm embraces. His face softens. He can see the appeal in sitting in the nearby sunlit chairs in this gentle oasis and watching the love all around. Especially when the angel doesn't get this reaction nearly enough for his own homecomings.

Sam vows to do better.

"Let me show you some more," Cas exclaims, full of an eagerness they rarely hear in the stoic angel. Before they can reply (or warn him to find a secluded corner to disappear from), he's already gripped their arms and taken flight.

They visit a playground next, warm and sunny and full of the pure laughter of children. Then a breezy square in Italy smelling of coffee and garlic, ringing with chatter and distant church bells. So many places he counts among his favorites. Each has one thing in common, and it's not the physical beauty… it's people.

Until one.

"Whoa, change of pace," Dean remarks as they arrive at an empty beach, grey water and greyer skies casting a monochromatic gloom over the scene. "I don't get it, what's so great about this place?"

Cas's eyes have gone distant. He steps to the surf despite the water now filling his shoes.

"Cas?" Sam asks. "Where are we?"

After a moment in which they wonder if he's still in there, Cas speaks.

"We call it the cradle of life."

Sam and Dean fall silent. There's a power in the air at his words, an electric tingle that makes Sam feel things he can't describe. His heart pounds but he doesn't know why.

"Once… too long ago for you to comprehend… I stood on this beach and watched a fish crawl out of the sea." Cas crouches and dips two fingers into the water. "I didn't know then, what might happen next. But I knew that nothing would ever be the same."

Sam finds himself holding his breath, captured by the moment and Cas's stillness.

Finally, the angel rises. "This is where it all began," he says, turning back towards them. "When I found myself doubting, I would come back here. To remind myself just how unperceivably magnificent something so small can become."

Cas's eyes crinkle and the moment is broken. "Now for my most favorite place of all."

He wraps his arms around the pair and suddenly they're right back where they started. Sam can hear the faint rustle as the newly restored wings fold themselves back down, unseen.

"The Bunker?" he can't help but laugh. "The whole world to choose from, and that's your favorite?"

Cas tilts his head. "The best place of all is wherever my family is. The best place is home."

Sam has to swallow back the lump in his throat, so Dean steps forward instead.

"And we're glad you're here." They all pretend not to notice the break in his voice. There's a second of hesitation, but only a second, then Dean is mirroring the people they watched at the airport. Firm arms enfold the angel in a tight embrace.

Sam smiles. "Home," he says softly. Charlie would have appreciated it, the mantra of Oz… Because Cas was right:

Home means family, and there truly is no place like home.