Archive of Our Own ^beta

No.

This isn't happening.

This can't be happening.

He wouldn't do this. 

This isn't him.

Dean opens his eyes and looks around the abandoned operating room for the first time since he left. Everything is exactly how it was before. Crowley's vessel lies empty to his right, the demon himself disintegrated into ash. And to his left lies Sam unconscious against the wall, head bleeding from where it was smashed against it. 

Dean doesn't know how long it's been or how long he's been kneeling in the middle of this room for. Ten minutes? An hour? Two? The only sounds he can hear are his breathing and Sam’s faint ones, letting him know that his brother is still alive. 

He knows he should be doing something, but what is there to do? Nothing can fix this now. He could move, but where would he go? Sam's hurt and Dean can't fix him himself. The kid needs more than just some booze and dental floss. More than what Dean can provide. 

He knows what he has to do. 

What he doesn't want to do. 

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Castiel,” he quietly breathes out. 

No reply. 

“Castiel.” Dean tries again. 

Still no reply. 

“Cas, come on man.”

Once again nothing. 

“God,” Dean says louder this time. Hoping that the angel would finally listen to him.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean's eyes open and land on the bloody hem of a trenchcoat. As he raises them, his stomach turns and his breath gets caught in his throat.

Oh god.

His entire shirt, tie and trenchcoat is covered in dark red blood. Some of it is still shining. Fresh. There's even some splattered on his face. 

“What did you do?” 

Castiel smiles. Then, he holds out a bloody hand and cups Dean's face, his blue eyes warm and vibrant. “What needed to be done.”

“Who…” Dean couldn't bring himself to finish the question. He could feel the bile rising in his throat.  

“The non-believers and the unfaithful. Those who did not deserve God's mercy. Those who chose not to kneel for their new God.” A few seconds later he adds, “Unlike you.”

But it was never a choice for Dean. He was going to kneel no matter what. He needed to be on Castiel's good side now more than ever. Even if it meant lying to him. 

“So you killed them?”

Castiel brushes his thumb over Dean's cheek a couple of times before he removes his hand. “Yes.”

“But that’s wrong, Cas. We don't kill people who don't deserve it.”

Castiel’s smile falls and he tilts his head. “But doesn't everyone deserve it?”

“No, not everyone deserves it. There are innocent's in this world.”

Castiel chuckles darkly and takes a step back. “Innocence is for the weak. Nobody's truly innocent. Not you nor I-” He turns his head to look at Sam “-not even that abomination over there. I really did a number on him, didn't I? I tried to be as gentle as possible, but you know how fragile human bodies are.”

Dean stares in horror and disbelief at the angel who he used to call his friend. The angel who raised him from Hell, who rebelled against Heaven for him. The angel who helped them lock his own brothers in the cage and end the apocalypse. The angel who always stood by them and helped out in any way that he could. And now all Dean sees is just another one of the monsters he's spent his whole life hunting. 

“You don't actually mean that, do you?”

Castiel turns back to Dean with a smile, his once vibrant eyes now dull. “But, of course.” 

“So you're just going to go around killing everyone who doesn't agree with you?” 

Castiel nods. “If that's what it takes, then yes.”

“That’s…” Dean shakes his head. “No. Cas, you can't just do that!”

Castiel stops smiling and walks back towards Dean. “I'm God now, Dean. I can do what I want. What I think is best for this world.” He stops right in front of Dean and crouches down, his cold eyes meeting Dean's frightened ones. “Don’t you agree?”

“I-” Dean tries to say something, anything, but he can't. 

This is not Castiel. Not anymore.

Castiel furrows his eyebrows. “Do you not believe in me, Dean?”

“No, I believe in you, Cas,” Dean says quickly, trying to make it sound convincing enough. 

Castiel's eyes search Dean's face for a moment before he lifts his hands. They come up and cup either side of his face. Then, he leans forward, their faces inches apart and whispers, “I don't think you do.”

Dean's eyes widened. “No. Wait. I believe you, Cas. Honest,” he says panicked as he feels Castiel's hands slide down his neck. 

“You're lying to me, Dean. I thought we were friends. Friends don't lie to each other,” Castiel says as he tightens his grip around Dean's neck, obstructing the air flow to his lungs. Dean starts to choke. 

“Cas,” Dean manages to choke out as he grabs Castiel's hands. “Please…This…isn't you.”

“But it is, Dean. It's still Castiel in here. He's just a little-” the angel tilts his head “-indisposed at the moment.”

“Cas…” Dean starts to feel light headed and he can feel tears drip down his face. “...Please.”

“I'm sorry, Dean. You should've just-” Dean closes his eyes, tuning him out. Giving in. It's not Castiel, so there's no use trying to reason with it and he knows that. 

Just as Dean's ready to slip, the pressure on his neck disappears. He falls forward and catches himself with one arm, and his other goes around his neck. Then, he takes a painful breath in, bringing much needed air into his lungs, and coughs. 

“Dean,” Castiel's voice is quiet. Dean leans back on his knees, still holding his neck, and looks at the being in front of him. He's looking at Dean in horror. When he tries to bring his hand up to Dean's face, Dean flinches away. 

“I'm sorry, Dean. I…” Castiel touches Dean's knee and Dean can feel the grace spread through his body, healing whatever he damaged. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. It's me,” Castiel says, then flashes Dean a weak smile. One that doesn't meet his eyes. 

“Do you even know what you did? What that…that thing did?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.”

Dean sighs and points to Sam's still unconscious body, then to Crowley's ashes and empty vessel. When he looks back at Castiel, the angel looks like he's ready to throw up. “And that's just in here. I have no idea what you did out there.”

“I….” Castiel quickly stands up. “I’m sorry. I didn't…”

“It's okay, Cas.” Dean tries to stand, but his legs feel like jelly from sitting for so long, so he pulls himself up with the help of the nearby table. “You're back, so we can fix this.”

“I'm not-” Castiel winces as he clutches his stomach. 

“Are you okay?”

Castiel nods his head and walks over to Sam. “I'm fine.” Then, he places two fingers on Sam's forehead and within seconds, Sam's awake. Dean watches as his brother tries to back up further into the wall and as Castiel backs up away from him. 

“It's okay, Sam. It's actually Cas this time.”

Sam's head snaps to him. “Dean? What happened?”

“Long story,” Dean exasperates. He can fill his brother in a different time. Right now they had to figure out how to fix things. “Cas, do you-”

Castiel folds over as another wave of pain hits. Both Dean and Sam move towards him, but Castiel holds a hand up. “No. Stay back. I don't know what's going on.”

Both Sam and Dean look at each other.

“How did he-” 

“I don't know, Sam. He killed some people, almost choked me to death-”

“What?” Sam shouts, then looks at the still doubled over angel. “Is this because he ate Purgatory?”

“My guess is yes.”

Castiel groans and grabs the table next to him. 

“What do we do, Cas?”

“Nothing. Nothing you can do,” Castiel groans out. Then he lets out a scream as he sinks to the floor, facing the table. 

Dean runs forward, not caring that he said stay back. But before he could get halfway, Castiel stands back up. He doesn't seem to be in pain anymore. 

“Cas?”

Castiel turns around to Dean, his face blank. Dean watches as tears fall down the angel's face. 

“I was only trying to help.” 

Then, like a balloon, he pops. Black blood splashes to the floor where he once stood followed by the bloody clothes.

“Oh god,” Dean can hear Sam say. He doesn't say a word though. He just stares at the black pool and bloody clothes that used to be his friend.  

He's…gone?

“Dean.” He feels Sam's hand on his shoulder. “We need to figure out how to fix everything.”

“I.” Dean peels his eyes away from the blood and looks at his brother. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. How?”

“I don't know, but we'll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean wants to chuckle or laugh at that, but he can't. His friend just powered up on souls, declared himself god, went on a killing spree, almost choked him to death, then exploded in front of him. There's nothing funny in any of that. 

“Yeah. Like we always do.” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he opens them and looks down at the pile of clothes on the floor. 

Wait.

 “Sam?” Dean asks as he stares at the clean floor and clothes. 

“Yeah?”

“Where's the blood?”

“What?” Dean points to the floor and Sam groans. “Shit. That wasn't blood.”

“Great. Just what we needed.” Dean kicks the table next to him, then goes to pick up the trenchcoat. He takes it in his hands, folds it, then walks out. Not caring if Sam's following or not. They've got work to do.