Hellfire - IsaRay946, Sarah_Strix - Supernatural (TV 2005) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“And I will call you Castiel, and it shall be good.”

Castiel opened his eyes slowly. A smiling face greeted him. Confused, intrigued, and truthfully a little bit scared, Castiel's eyes darted around the room.

It was white. Everything was white. Castiel didn't understand because he had been laying down; hadn't he been? The smiling face had been above him, looking down, and when he first looked to the side, everything had seemed horizontal. Then again it was also hard to tell because everything was, well, white.

“Why is everything white?” were the first words Castiel uttered in his entire existence.

God had blinked at his newest creation, startled. Then he laughed.

~

“Cas.”

Castiel blinked.

Reality snapped back into focus. Nothing was white, steeped in unpleasant colors of warmth. The July sun coated the room in a disagreeable yellow hue. Thick red blood stood out against the hardwood floor, turning the old carpet that sat beneath the coffee table a sickening crimson.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean. Not really, anyway. Not in any detail. It was strange; even when he tried to, it was like his brain refused to process what he was seeing.

“Cas?” Sam said once more from behind him.

“Yes Sam,” Castiel said as a statement, not a question.

Silence.

“What, Sam?” Castiel said then in the same monotone way.

Sam swallowed thickly. “We should–we should uh–we should–”

Castiel was looking at Dean. His jeans, remembering how his leg had twitched. His dark red flannel. A morbid thought passed over him; had he worn red on purpose? Castiel couldn’t bring himself to lift his blue eyes any farther up; looking at Dean’s ripped open chest was bad enough.

“I could just snap my fingers and make all this go away,” Castiel said matter of fact. “However I think I would prefer to take care of the body personally.”

Sam didn’t speak. Castiel turned to him.

“If that is alright with you, of course.”

Sam’s eyes were red and watery. The hunter clenched his jaw several times to stop himself from breaking down. Finally he nodded, barely even noticeable.

“I’ll get the sheet–”

“We bury him.”

Sam blinked. “W-what?”

“We bury him,” Castiel replied strictly.

“He wanted–but he wanted–”

“A hunter’s burial? f*ck that, Sam.”

Sam blinked rapidly. “Cas. Are you—are you alright?”

Castiel laughed bitterly. Sam shuffled backward, looking freaked out, borderline scared. Castiel took a step forward.

“Am I alright? No, Sam, I am not alright. The person who had garnered my unyielding focus since the day I met him was just violently killed in front of my eyes. The person who made me experience love for the first time in my millions of years of existence, the man I shunned my home for, who I forsake whom I even was for, is dead. And you’re asking me if I’m alright, Sam?”

Sam stumbled back. The look on the hunter’s face clearly showed he thought he was going to get smote any second.

“No,” Castiel said, “we are not tossing Dean onto a heap of burning logs like some piece of meat to be eaten. Dean is more than that.”

Sam nodded, trembling.

All at once the scorching rage that had built up within Castiel gust out of him. His shoulders slumped, and he could no longer meet Sam’s gaze. He raised both of his eyebrows.

“If it is too much for you, I can prepare the body for burial.”

“No,” Sam insisted, which surprised the angel, and he looked up. “No. We do this together.”

Wordlessly the pair moved in tandem. Castiel waved a hand, the gaping wounds closing. He insisted on cleaning Dean by hand, first with a wet washcloth, then with an entire towel when the washcloth was proving too small to wipe away all the blood. Even so, it took some time before the towel did more than just smear around the liquid that was meant to be inside of Dean. When Castiel was done cleaning the body, it looked like Dean was merely sleeping; his color was wrong, and he was battered and bruised, but Castiel tried to convince himself Dean was, in fact, dead.

Sam insisted on helping Cas carry Dean outside, Cas carrying Dean from under his arms with Sam carrying the feet. Castiel led them down the porch steps and to the right, heading to the old Chinquapin oak tree. They gently put Dean on the ground, ever so careful to not jostle him. Sam nodded and then walked away to the back of the house.

Castiel stood upright, staring up at the large tree. He reached out a palm, but hesitated. Finally he pressed his palm flat against the bark.

“Hello,” he spoke in a low, soft voice. “My dear friend whom I loved very much has died. He adored and appreciated you. It was silent, for humans in this part of the world no longer offer worship to nature, but I assure you that he was quite fond of you. Might I—”

Castiel abruptly stopped talking, overwhelmed with emotions. Taking several deep breaths, he continued, whispering.

“May you be so kind as to allow me to bury him here? It is a perfect place of final rest, and I think if he were here—” Castiel's voice broke and trembled. “I think if he were here he would find the spot lovely.”

Immediately the breeze blew. It was warm and inviting. It whipped around Castiel, starting at his feet and quickly swirling up and around his entire body. Castiel hummed softly and closed his eyes.

The wind played with his hair, tussling the dark locks, before finally shooting upward still, causing the leaves to rustle loudly. Then the breeze died down. Castiel opened his eyes and smiled, even though a single tear dripped out.

“Thank you for your condolences.”

“Got a shovel,” Sam said then, walking towards Cas at a quick pace.

Castiel turned to the hunter and nodded, palm still on the tree. “Excellent. This tree has given its permission to bury Dean here.”

Sam slowed his pace, head tilted slightly and his brow wrinkled. When he stood in front of Cas, he looked at him in disbelief. Castiel however, simply stared at him evenly.

“You're serious?” Sam asked.

“Of course. I wouldn't dream of putting a dead body beneath a living tree without permission. That's just rude.”

Sam blinked. Castiel held out his hand then.

“I'll start.”

Sam looked up at the tree in disbelief and then back at Cas. Still looking skeptical, Sam nonetheless handed over the spade.

By the time everything was done, it was late afternoon. For a moment the pair stood there, panting, staring at the mound of disturbed dirt. Sam clasped Castiel's shoulder. Castiel looked up at Sam and then hugged him fiercely. The two stayed rooted to the spot, their feet leadened without the will to walk away. Eventually they both knew it was time. Patting each other on the back they made their way to the house, back up the front porch steps, and back into the house. With a wave of Castiel's hand, the living room was in order with not a drop of blood anywhere. It was as though hours ago a man hadn't been viciously ripped apart by Hellhounds.

With the mess magically gone, Castiel and Sam found themselves unable to move again. They stared at the empty living room, unsure how to process any of it. When Sam put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, the angel jumped.

“I'll start calling people, let them know it's okay to come back to the house.”

Castiel nodded. Sam patted his shoulder a few times and then excused himself to the kitchen, taking out his cell phone as he walked. Castiel shifted to the large front window. His reflection drifted away, angelic vision honing in on the mound of dirt that now held the man who had been named Dean Winchester.

Chapter 2

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

The Goddess Ma’at had been alive since the dawn of time. She had been called many things over the centuries, as was common for all Gods and Goddess’. Her time to shine was during the Ancient Egyptian era, when she was known and worshiped the most. As such, she permanently took on the moniker Ma’at, as it was what the spirit was most well known as.

In more recent years, seven principals had been assigned to her. While she found this strange, it did in fact align with her purpose, so she accepted this new kind of worship with bemused open arms. Truth, Justice, Harmony, Balance, Order, Propriety, and Reciprocity. Yes, she liked all those things, and she lived all those things.

This was why, after months of time, did the Goddess Ma’at feel disquieted deep within her soul.

Getting involved with the angel Dove had been a rash decision. Ma’at’s time had long since passed; few mortals cared about her, much less would listen to her. She had become more of an observer of the cosmos, keeping a watchful eye on the multiverse and all of its happenings. There were a handful of bothersome universes, places that seemed to be in constant upheaval. Even so, these usually remained within the confines of fate and natural order. Often when things derailed, it was more of an amusem*nt to the goddess than anything.

Dove had been entirely different. Dove was unique. Too powerful, too strange. Then there was that rouge, bothersome brother of hers, Lucifer. Truthfully Ma’at was disgusted with that branch of deities, the one that called himself Chuck and his entire family. Plus there was God’s weird, unhealthy obsession with the mortal family whose surname was Winchester. Ma’at couldn't wrap her mind around any of it. It was a gross misinterpretation of how things should have been (in Ma’at’s not so humble opinion).

She couldn’t be blamed; Chuck and his ilk offended the first five of her principals. Yet then…the past few months had started to change her feelings towards the entire thing. First was the fact she was starting to regret becoming involved with Dove at all. Not because she regretted the punishment she doled out, no; Dove deserved to be thrown into The Empty prematurely. It was more that it looked poorly upon Ma’at herself. Essentially she had thrown a tantrum, tired of Lucifer and his meddlesome ways. So she had taken it out on Dove in a fit of rage. There was no trial, there was no warning. Ma’at had just shown up and acted as judge and jury at once. It was rather…unbecoming. Uncouth, really.

Thus it was with the last two principals in mind, especially Reciprocity, did Ma’at decide to descry God himself. It took her a little while–he evidently didn’t want to be found–but eventually he relented her psionic prodding and allowed his presence to be known.

“Good day, God,” Ma’at greeted.

Chuck stood on a cliff overlooking a forest. He turned to her and smiled. Ma’at immediately went down on one knee and bowed her head.

“No, no no,” Chuck said. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ma’at lifted her head. “I don’t?”

Chuck shook his head.

“Oh.” Her eyes fell off to the side. “Alright.”

As Ma’at got to her feet, Chuck asked, “What do you want, Ma’at?”

She smiled, unable to help herself. “What do I always want, God?”

“You can call me Chuck. I like it. It’s rather–unassuming. Plain. Meek.”

Ma’at stopped herself mid-rolling her eyes. “Alright. Chuck, what is the one thing I aways seek?”

“Order.”

“Correct. Your son does not adhere to that, nor has he ever.”

Chuck’s eyes grew stormy and he frowned. “I know.”

“So I come to you with an offer.

Chuck laughed. “An offer? Er, no offense Ma’at, but what could you possibly offer me?”

Pausing a moment to swallow her pride, literally, Ma’at spoke. “The common denominator.”

“Meaning?”

“Perhaps I was–too quick in punishing your daughter. The one known as Dove. I understand she holds the key to stopping Lucifer, correct?”

Chuck blinked and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I suppose, yes. She could be. Anyway.”

Not knowing exactly what he meant, Ma’at side-stepped the curiosity and continued down the path she started explaining. “I know he is in the midst of creating havoc in one of the realities you have created as we speak. I get Dove the help she needs on the battlefield, she stops Lucifer in his tracks with his foolishness. We all can sleep better at night.”

Chuck clucked and shook his head, pointing. “You can sleep better at night.”

Ma’at ran her tongue slowly over her front teeth. Finally she shrugged. “Yes, there is a bit of that. To say I would be ecstatic to have balance restored in one of the multiverses would be an understatement.”

Chuck crossed his arms. “I'm surprised, Ma’at. I thought you didn't like interfering with such things directly.”

“Who said I would do anything directly?” she sniffed.

“You literally just said you would get Dove the help she needs on the battlefield.”

“Nudging things towards a certain outcome doesn't qualify as me directing anything. I won't be fighting on the battlefield itself.”

Chuck gave her a sly look. “Ma’at–don’t kid me. You and I both know this runs deeper than just wanting to restore order.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Chuck crossed his arms. “Ma’at.”

Ma’at cast her eyes to the side, annoyed. “I…will admit that these two groups have–surprised me.”

Chuck smiled slowly. “Continue.”

Ma’at sighed heavily, looking utterly defeated. “Fine. If I must be honest, I am surprised by the length these two groups of individuals will go to for each other. Rift-jumping. Self-sacrifice. Running headlong into danger. Adopting a child. It’s absurd! Ludacris!”

Chuck uncrossed his arms and smirked. “Awe-inspiring, even?”

Ma’at pursed her lips.

“You care for these people and angels, don’t you, Ma’at?”

Ma’at tsked and looked offended, crossing her arms.

Chuck nearly laughed. “Ma’at?”

Ma’at glared. “Care is too strong a word. However I…must admit that I don’t like to be the direct cause of pain and suffering. I seem to have inflicted a great deal of both on both parties.”

Chuck looked pleased.

“Chuck,” the Goddess said then, boldly looking directly into his face, “I am here before you to ask permission for me to interfere, but this time for the greater good.”

Chuck raised both eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes. As an omnipotent Goddess myself, I know about the reckoning that is about to take place in Dove’s original reality. However, I have intimate knowledge of the time frame, and it is upon us.”

Chuck co*cked his eyebrow. “How do you know this, exactly?”

Ma’at flushed. “The one known as Castiel sought me out before I came here. Castiel, the one from your daughter’s reality, the father of Raven.”

Chuck looked stunned.

“It was a bold thing for him to do, but he explained that Lucifer has every intention of destroying his homeworld. Castiel…knew…how upset I would be if that reality were plunged into an apocalyptic Hellscape. I don’t appreciate it when Apocalypse Worlds come into being.”

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

Chuck shuffled on his feet. “Yes. Huh. I’m just…surprised that Castiel sought you out.”

“As am I. But he did, so now I stand before you asking for your permission to attempt to set things right for the two realities.”

Chuck pondered everything for a long while. Ma’at waited patiently, unmoving, merely watching Chuck think respectfully. Finally Chuck looked at Ma’at.

“I allow it. However, I need you to understand something, Ma’at.”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of the one Dean Winchester’s fate?”

Ma’at didn’t respond.

“The second Dean, not from Dove’s reality, but the other? His pact with the demon named Crowley?”

“Oh. That. Yes, well–”

Chuck cut her off immediately. “Do as you like regarding Lucifer, and you can interact with both groups again, however there is something I must forbid you from doing.”

Ma’at suppressed a sigh. “Yes?”

“Do not interfere with Dean being in Hell. Every version of Dean must go there one way or another. It is just how things are supposed to happen. I explicitly forbid you from interfering.”

Ma’at hesitated. “And if I were to, for some reason? You would unmake me, just as you threatened before?”

“Yes, Ma’at.”

Ma’at winced. “Alright, Chuck. I will not interfere with Dean being in Hell.”

“Excellent.” Chuck smiled. “Then do as you please. Just please let it be known I am still by and large uninvolved. If something doesn’t work out for you, I wash my hands of all this.”

“Understood,” Ma’at said with a nod.

“Excellent. Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you, Ma’at.”

“As it were you, Chuck. Hopefully our paths will cross again.”

Chuck snapped, forcing Ma’at to disappear. He frowned and turned back to the serenity of nature.

“I certainly hope not.”

~

Raven sat in the middle of the field. Behind her, a good mile and a half, sat the farmhouse. She had known the instant Dean had died; she had known his fear and anguish leading up to it. She knew Sam's sorrow and guilt, and she had known Castiel's rage in the aftermath.

Then there had been nothing, and she was alone.

Until she wasn't.

“What do you want?” she snapped bitterly, wiping off her face, not even bothering to twist around. “Come to gloat?”

“I do not gloat,” Ma’at replied in her strong voice. “And I certainly do not gloat over pointless death.”

Raven felt her own anger now. She got to her feet and spun around, getting up in the Goddess’ face. “Isn't this what you want? To torment us? To make sure the balance stays balanced?”

Ma’at considered a cruel retort about how Raven was too much like her mother, quick to anger and not knowing when to just keep her mouth shut. Instead this would only hinder things, and Ma’at had been hindered enough.

“I am sorry for what I did to your mother.”

Raven snapped her mouth shut so hard it hurt. Not believing her words, she pulled her head back in disbelief. Processing it, she gave Ma’at the side eye. “I'm sorry, you what?”

Ma’at sniffed and stuck her nose in the air, looking down at Raven. “You heard me. It did not help anything. And I will not gloat over the death of the Winchester man, especially knowing the Hellhounds took him. It's a barbaric and cruel way to go.”

Raven nearly sobbed. Instead she nodded in acknowledgement, biting back tears and swallowing hard.

“I have spoken with your grandfather.”

Raven blinked. “You what? But I haven't seen him in months. I thought he left again.”

“Oh he did. He's in an utterly different universe currently. He does not wish to be found. However, we spoke, and he has allowed me an attempt to make things right.”

“That…doesn't sound like grandpa.”

Ma’at actually laughed at that. Her laugh was quite delightful, bubbling up from her and having a merry, light quality. “No, I suppose it doesn't. Truthfully I am unsure why the change in heart, but no matter. He has allowed me to interact with you all once more. For the better.”

Raven crossed her arms. “I still don't believe you. What's in it for you?”

“Stopping Lucifer, of course.”

Raven's blood ran cold.

“The other universe which you come from is on the brink of falling. Dean Winchester, Sam, your mother and father, and others are fighting right now as we speak.”

Raven gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Lucifer has unleashed Hell’s demons. In addition to those affected by the virus, I loathe to say it but your family is quite outnumbered.”

“We have to do something!” Raven shouted.

“I know. Your cousin has been kept safe with the witch known as Rowena.”

Raven blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Belle?”

“Yes. We all know your grace and Belle’s is different. Now is the time to stop Lucifer.”

Raven nodded. “What should we do?”

“We will go and collect your cousin and Rowena.

“Alright,” Raven said with a determined nod. “I'm ready.”

Ma’at co*cked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to go looking like that?”

Raven looked down at herself. “Oh. Right.”

With the blink of an eye Raven was a child once more. She nodded up at the Goddess. “I'm ready.”

Ma’at held out her hand and as soon as Raven clasped it, they were gone.

Chapter 3

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Raven was surprised when, instead of being in some sort of battle, they instead stood in some sort of regal room. Everything was flourished with golden accents, with paintings on the walls inlaid with precious gems. The room itself was made from limestone.

Angrily Raven spun on her heel and looked up at Ma’at. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“You remember my sister, Tawert?”

Raven turned around. The second Goddess sat in a golden throne, both legs kicked up over the side of the armrest. She had clearly been relaxing, not expecting the intrusion. Tawert co*cked an eyebrow at her sister.

“Yes, Ma’at,” Tawert said. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It has begun,” Ma’at said as though that explained everything. “Certainly you have felt the shift in that universe?”

Looking bemused, Tawert sat up and leaned forward. “I thought God forbade you from interfering in that universe? Yet here you stand with Raven.”

Ma’at rolled her eyes. “I have spoken with God. It does not concern you.”

Tawert’s eyes flashed angrily, but besides that she still looked amused. “Doesn't concern me? Dearest sister, you show up here unannounced and uninvited with a child. That most definitely concerns me.”

Ma’at stomped her foot impatiently. “I will explain to you details henceforth when everything is said and done, but for right now I need you to trust me.”

Tawert rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “I suppose.”

Ma’at collected herself, standing straighter. “Thank you. You can sense where the battle is taking place?”

Tawert’s eyes flashed a light blue, the color of the sky on a crisp summer's day. “In Kentucky, yes.”

“I need to speak with Dove before you bring Raven to the field. I will reach out to you when it is time.”

Tawert laughed. “Oh, so I'm bringing her now?”

Ma’at sort of winced. “Er, if you would be so kind. I can think of none other who would be capable of protecting her until she is needed.

“Alright,” Tawert grumbled, getting to her feet. “You owe me, Ma’at.”

Ma’at smirked. “Do I ever.”

Without another word, Ma’at disappeared.

Tawert’s eye twitched. Sighing heavily, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Incoming…”

Raven opened her mouth to ask what the Goddess meant. Instead with a popping sound and a puff of purple smoke, two more people appeared. Raven's mouth dropped open.

“Belle? Rowena?!”

Rowena blinked. “Oh. You're here? What're you doing here?”

Raven ran. Rowena squatted down and held open her arms. Raven threw herself at her and started to cry as Belle hugged them both tightly. After kissing the side of Raven's head, Rowena stood (with some difficulty, both children clinging to her).

“Good day, Tawert Ma’am,” Rowena said with a curtsy. “I thank you deeply for allowing me to be here on such short notice. You see, I know God said Ma’at couldn't interfere, but he never said anything about you. And, well, I'm a bit desperate right now if I'm being honest, and you showed kindness to Raven previously, so I thought—I hoped—maybe perhaps you might assist me, out of the kindness of your generous heart.”

Tawert sighed. “Hello, Rowena. How might I be of service? Although—” she glanced at the two children hugging, “—I probably know.”

“Ah, yes,” Rowena said, wringing her hands just a little bit. “You see, something has happened, and—”

Tawert held up a palm and Rowena respectfully stopped speaking.

“My sister has already made me aware of the ongoing battle in your universe. We all want to put an end to Lucifer's nonsense. So yes, I shall take the children now.”

Rowena gave a much deeper curtsy, bowing her head. “I humbly thank you Tawert.”

Tawert laughed. “There's nothing humble about this, Rowena. As a Goddess I know your true heart. You're afraid.”

Rowena paled and narrowed her eyes, looking slightly offended. Tawert waved a dismissive hand and continued speaking.

“Being afraid to die, regardless of that fancy spell you put on yourself or not, is nothing to be ashamed of. Being afraid of Lucifer is nothing to be ashamed of—that being is utterly unstable and evil. You want this all to end for your own safety and the safety of those you care about. I simply wish you mortals would stop hiding behind false pretenses of altruistic intents. Call an egg and egg, Rowena.”

Rowena stuck her nose into the air slightly. “Yes, you're right. I just want everything to end so I can stop living in fear.”

Tawert grinned and spoke to Rowena with half-closed eyes, bending forward at the waist. “There, was that so difficult? I am not a deity you need to suck up to, understood?”

Rowena nodded.

Still smiling, Tawert stood straight. “Yes, I will bring the girl's to the battle and protect them from the chaos.”

Rowena gave another deep bow. “Thank you, truly.

Tawert smirked and, after a quick goodbye to the children, Rowena vanished.

~

“Dude, if this isn't the saddest song I've ever heard, I don't know what is,” Dean had said. “Turn this sh*t off.”

Sam, Castiel, and Dean had been on their way to a hunt. The brothers had fought over what was on the radio. Dean was riding shotgun on account of him wanting to get a quick nap in. When the elder Winchester had woken up, Sam refused to relinquish the wheel, wanting to switch at the next rest stop. So, Dean had whined a bit about being subjected to crappy modern music but finally settled.

With Dean's protests no longer a thing, the car had fallen into silence. Castiel didn't have anything to say, Sam was focused on driving, and Dean was fighting off sleep.

“What is this?” Castiel had asked as Sam leaned forward, moving the radio dial to something else. “I must agree with Dean. The lyrics were rather bleak.”

“I think it's called Follow You Into The Dark?” Sam answered. “By—”

"Let me guess,” Dean interrupted, “a band named Depression Is Our Friend.”

Sam threw a RBF. “No.”

"Cry Yourself To Sleep?”

"No.”

Sound System of Sorrow?”

“Dean.”

“Slit Your Wrists?”

“Jesus Christ, Dean, no—Death Cab For Cutie.”

Dean had paused and then screwed up his face. “Huh?

Sam glanced at him. “Death Cab—you know what? Nevermind.”

“Is all their music like that? “

“No!”

Dean paused. “Do you listen to them?”

“I mean—” Sam stammered, “they've been around forever and they're on the radio a lot, so I know who they are by now—”

“Ha, you little bitch! You like such sh*tty music!”

Sam had punched him and Dean had laughed.

Castiel was still staring at the mound of dirt with that song and memory going on in his mind. Donna, Charlie, Suse, and Risa had all returned. There were many tears. Risa was damn near inconsolable. The only one emboldened enough to approach Cas was Charlie. Hesitating for just a moment with her hand outstretched, she put it on his shoulder.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asked him softly.

“No, Charles,” he replied, putting his hand over her own as he stared at her reflection splashed onto the window like a ghost. “Thank you, though.”

“We love you, you know.”

Castiel closed his eyes and kissed the back of her hand. Then he opened his eyes again. “I know.”

She had left him after that.

As day waned into early night, Castiel found himself becoming angrier and angrier.

Castiel needed Dean at his side. When Castiel first began to feel love for Dean, two years ago now when they were living at the compound, Castiel always knew falling in love with a mortal would be emotionally trying. Humans live barely a blink of time to celestial entities. Castiel always knew he would have to watch Dean die, because that simply is what mortals do. He was willing to accept this burden, especially because, when it came down to it, he was determined to find a way to be reunited with Dean in Heaven eventually.

This was entirely different. This wasn't supposed to happen. Dean was supposed to die like every other mortal. Or, at the very least, he should have died like any other hunter on the job. It was preposterous that Dean had sacrificed himself and been dragged off to Hell. It was improbable, and horrible, and Castiel wasn't going to stand for it. He wasn't going to stand for any of it. Dean was too precious to him, too vital. He had spent too much time with this mortal and sacrificed too much for him to not have him by his side. Crowley and Alastair be damned—he was going to get Dean back.

Castiel wasn't stupid; as soon as he knew he was going after Dean's soul, he acknowledged the danger involved. It was for that reason a plan formed in his head, something that could go either way. Regardless of the outcome, he knew what had to be done.

Chapter 4

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“Are you kidding me?!” Dove yelled and took off running towards Ma’at.

The field in Kentucky was utter chaos, a true battlefield. Demons ran around, attacking and killing anything that moved. Then there were the Walkers, as the zombies had been dubbed in that universe, unleashed through Lucifer's virus.

A demon landed in front of Dove and flung her back, landing hard on her ass, and she groaned as her lower back cracked. Climbing to her feet she was immediately pounced on by another demon. During their struggle, Dove looked over the demon's shoulder at locked eyes with the Ancient Egyptian Goddess.

“What the hell are you doing? Help us!” Dove screamed.

I’m here to make sure the balance is set right. Not to fight your war. She spoke in Dove's mind, still too far out to speak out loud and be heard.

Dove rolled her eyes, thrusting her blade into the stomach of the demon in her way. “You’re kidding, right? This place is f*cked! How many times do I have to say the balance is f*cked?!”

I don’t fight wars, Dove.

“Cut the bullsh*t, Ma’at. You’re just as bad as Lucifer.”

Don’t compare me to that infidel heathen brother of yours, the Goddess growled.

Dove reached the field where Ma’at stood on a rock and looked up at her. “You don’t fight wars, you can’t stop battles, you can’t grant someone’s freedom from The Empty. What exactly can you do? To me, you–”

“Watch your tone, Dove Winters.” she glared daggers at the angel. “I may not be able to do what you want me to do but I am still an ancient Goddess, and you will respect me.”

“Respect?” Dove laughed. “I respect you just about as much as I respect my brother. My own flesh and blood.”

She gasped, raising her hand to her chest.

“One could come to the conclusion that you’re actually working with Lucifer to end the world.”

“I would never work with your brother, and I’d never do anything to harm the balance of the universe!”

“Then do something to stop this! I don’t have my powers. I can’t fight him on my own!”

Ma’at looked down her nose at Dove, her eyes darting back and forth. Looking out over the battle taking place, she noticed many humans lying wounded on the ground. They were outnumbered, easily ten to one, and they were going to lose the battle if she didn’t help. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. When she closed her eyes and opened them, they were glowing with a golden light.

Dove looked over her shoulder to see if anything was happening or was changing with the Goddess’ glowing eyes, but nothing was. Dove's Sam and Dean were now fighting Lucifer, their Castiel at their sides. The Walkers and demons were still flooding into the battle droves.

A loud noise had Dove snap her attention back to Ma’at. Her attention was out over the tree line. Dove followed her line of vision and noticed a larger than normal horse bursting through the trees. A woman, dressed similarly to Ma’at but in what looked like battle gear, rode on top of the horse, swinging a large sword back and forth. She took off the heads of dozens of Walkers in one swipe of the sword, stabbing through a demon, and taking another swing at more Walkers. She cleared that end of the field within seconds, leaving the green grass now mudded with pools of blood and guts. She held the sword high above her head, pointing the tip towards Ma’at, and then kicking her heels against the horse’s sides, charging towards her and Dove.

Dove tensed, unsure of the situation.

“Relax,” Ma’at said immediately, “she is my sister Sekhmet. She is on our side, I promise you.” Ma’at smirked. “She never passes the opportunity for bloodshed.”

Sparks suddenly burst into existence next to Ma’at; Taweret appeared, and with her she had Raven and Belle. Dove scrambled towards the rock, doing her best to climb it as fast as she could.

“Rave? Belle?” Dove called out, looking up at them.

Dove suddenly appeared next to them, stumbling against the sudden loss of solid rock under her. She looked up at Ma'at, who glared at Taweret.

“What? She was going to fall. I had to help her up here,” Taweret shrugged. She glanced at Dove and winked.

Dove dropped to her knees and was instantly knocked back by Raven and Belle running into her arms.

“Oh my god,” Dove cried, holding them tight.

“How did you come to have the other child in your possession?” Ma’at asked Taweret quietly.

Purple smoke appeared behind them, and Rowena walked out of the cloud of smoke.

“I reached out to her,” Rowena answered Ma’at’s question. “I believe we may have something to stop this apocalypse, but I will need help from you.”

“What sort of help?” Ma’at asked.

“We know you can’t return an angel’s grace,” Rowena began. “But you can offer her powers momentarily. If you do so, the kids and I can work to build those powers for her, increasing them. If we can get Castiel to bleed some of his grace, I can then–”

“No! “ Dove suddenly looked at Rowena after hearing her words. “No one is bleeding anyone’s grace.”

Rowena’s eyes rounded and her brow pulled together. “Darling, if we do this, I think I have a spell to stop this. All of this.”

“We aren’t asking Cas to do that.”

Belle looked back at Rowena and Rowena shook her head no. Belle then looked at Dove and opened her mouth to say something, but Rowena rushed forward, interrupting her.

“Belle, honey–”

“No. Rowena, I can help. I thought what my dad told me was true. I thought what he was doing was the right thing. But spending time with you and learning your craft…I want to do this.”

“Belle, you’re much too young to make such a rash decision.”

“But I’m really not and you know this now!”

Belle removed herself from Dove's grasp and walked over to Ma’at. She reached up and grabbed a dagger that was hanging from her belt. As soon as Dove saw what she was doing, she moved Raven aside and lunged for Belle, hands reaching out for her.

“No!” Dove screamed, but it was too late.

Belle slid the blade across her porcelain skin and the glow of her grace seeped through the wound. Dove gripped her wrist, looking at the slice. It was deep. So deep Dove couldn’t heal it if she wanted to.

“Belle,” Dove said as tears welled in her eyes.

“Belle?” Raven walked over and took her wrist. She cupped her hand over the wound and tried to heal her.

It failed.

“Why can’t I heal her?” Raven asked, looking up at her mother.

Dove looked at Rowena for answers.

“I found a spell,” she started. “We all knew this couldn’t be stopped without the grace of an angel. We also knew it was special grace, not just regular angel grace.”

“But her wound, it's so deep…” Dove feared it wouldn’t heal, even afterwards.

Rowena swallowed and continued. “We also knew that the grace would have to be bled completely, making the angel human, if not killing them.”

Dove looked at Belle, tears slipping over her eyelids and falling down her cheeks. “Please tell me this isn’t what you’re doing.”

But Dove knew better. She knew these girls were just as stubborn and determined as she herself was, and if this was her plan, she was sticking to it. No matter how much Dove didn’t want her to.

“This is what I was born to do, Aunt Dove. I saw it,” Belle answered.

“Saw it? Saw what?”

“I saw it in a vision. This was my sole purpose. To stop my daddy.”

“But I thought Raven…” Dove glanced over her shoulder at her daughter who was crying, listening to her cousin talk.

“No,” Belle continued. “You guys just learned it would have to be a special angel with special grace. That part is true.”

“But you don’t have my grace, Belle.”

Belle now looked at Raven. Raven’s tears fell even faster as she dipped her hand into Rowena’s bag and pulled out an empty jar, handing it to Belle.

“Raven! What are you doing?” Dove asked, shocked that she would go along with it.

“When I was little, I was hurt.” Belle explained, “God told me that the injury would eventually kill me. Raven pleaded with God to help me.”

Dove looked at Raven again. “Is this true?”

Raven nodded. “Grandpa took some of my grace and then a pinch of his and healed her.” Then her voice cracked as she took a deep breath to hold back a sob and said, “She has all of our grace, Mom.”

Mom…the last time Dove had seen Raven, she had called her Mommy. This was a grown-up decision, and she was making it known that she understood what it meant.

“She’s the one with the special grace,” Raven added.

“But…”

Dove looked around, too stunned to say anything. She looked from Taweret to Ma’at. Neither knew what to say and kept quiet.

“Dove,” Rowena walked forward cautiously, “this is how it ends this madness.”

“But at the risk of losing Belle? No. No! I’ll give myself over to Lucifer.”

“No!” everyone on the rock yelled, including the girls.

“If you do that,” Ma’at began, “The balance will never return to normal.”

“But—”

“I want this, Aunt Dove.” Belle said, holding her wrist over the jar to fill it with her grace. “I spent the past handful of months traveling around with Rowena, learning and growing. I’ve had time to think this over. I’m doing this.”

Belle stood that way until grace no longer dripped from her arm. The wound healed itself, to Dove's surprise, and she handed the jar over to Rowena. Belle was pale and the color of her eyes lightened. Raven hurried over to her, laying her hands on her in an attempt to help heal her symptoms.

“Can you get them somewhere safe?” Rowena asked Taweret.

Taweret nodded and she vanished with the children before Dove could object.

“Where’d she take them?” Dove asked, still in shock over what was happening.

“They’re safe.” Ma’at assured. “She will bring them back when this is over.”

The sounds of the battle below came back to Dove. She turned around to see so much bloodshed on the ground. Sekhmet was still battling, but now on foot. She moved around the field with grace and ease, like a ballerina dancing across a large stage, but wielded the sword and a dagger fiercely.

She showed no mercy.

Rowena began chanting while mixing herbs into a bowl. She had a book and other items set out around her. Dove looked around, still unsure of what to do. Rowena poured the grace into her potion, and it immediately began smoking. She continued her chant and Ma’at stepped forward and snapped her fingers.

The Rowena from the Croatoan universe appeared, completely startled. She looked around, gasping, and walked backward as her eyes landed on the battle below.

“Where am I?” she asked.

Her eyes fell to the Rowena from the current reality who was chanting, and then looked over to find Dove standing next to Ma’at. She glared at Ma’at, but Ma’at held her hand up.

“Help your friend. She needs twice the power for this spell.”

Rowena’s eyes swept over the scene once more and then she nodded, straightened her dress, walked forward, and took the chanting Rowena’s hands. Rowena’s lips formed a smile, but she never stopped chanting and she never opened her eyes. The other Rowena began the chant.

“You won’t be staying.” Ma’at said to the second Rowena. “Just until this spell is complete.”

Croatoan Rowena looked at her and nodded and closed her eyes, chanting. The smoke from the bowl began rising higher, expanding. It rose until it spread over the entire battlefield, hovering there. Their chants grew louder and caught the attention of Lucifer.

Dean looked over his shoulder to see what Lucifer was focused on and saw Dove standing on the rock. Being distracted, a Walker was able to shuffle up behind him. It reached out and grabbed Dean. Dean flung around, trying to fight the Walker off but it had him in his grasp and wasn’t letting go.

Dove screamed out over the crowd of people as she watched the Walker sink his teeth into Dean’s arms, ripping into his flesh and muscle, pulling it from Dean’s arm. Dean screamed out in pain as Sam thrust a knife into the Walker's skull. He caught Dean as Dean fell and a wave of light spilled out of Dean in every direction, taking down every creature within a twenty-foot radius.

Lucifer was running towards the rock but Sekhmet saw him and changed her trajectory, charging at him. She collided, throwing him back further into the crowd. The Rowenas chanted faster and the smoke began glowing. Ma’at nudged Dove and gestured to the bowl in between the two witches.

“It needs you to top it off.”

“My grace is gone.”

Ma’at shook her head. “Not all of it.”

She held out her dagger towards Dove.

Dove glared at her. “Is this your way of finally getting rid of me? Because I’m human now. I have no grace.”

She pressed her lips together. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes! I haven’t been able to help anyone that needed it!”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Dove co*cked her head to the side, confused.

“You’re God’s first creation. Your grace is literally intertwined in every cell of you. You, Dove, are grace.” She nudged the knife towards Dove, and the angel slowly took it.

“I am grace?”

Ma’at nodded. “Your Father never made another of you, correct?”

Dove shook her head.

“There are other Archangels, Seraphim’s, and other classes of angels, but only one of you.”

“He said I was—”

She shook her head. “Don’t believe what anyone says. There’s only one of you because he realized what could happen if angels were created from all grace. Go on, just a nick to the skin. Doesn’t have to be deep. But you still have grace, you just have to replenish.”

Still hesitant to believe her, Dove stared down at her skin, wondering how that could be possible. Taking a deep breath, Dove nicked the skin and let herself bleed. Ma’at took Dove's hand and held it over the bowl. As soon as a drop of blood fell into the bowl, it began glowing pink, and then exploded. The blast blew Dove's hair back, blew both witches on their asses, but Ma’at never budged.

“NO!”

The word bellowed throughout the sky, echoing off the rocks and trees. Lucifer fell to his knees and watched in horror as all the Walkers and demons fell, lifeless on the ground. The people that survived, who were still fighting, looked around trying to figure out what was happening.

Sam was holding Dean on the ground.

Dove looked over at the Rowenas, and they smiled at one another.

“Thank you,” Rowena said to her double, and then Ma’at made the other disappear.

Chapter 5

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

As soon as Belle, Taweret, and Raven appeared in Tawert’s ancient chamber, Belle's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out. Taweret caught the child immediately so she wouldn't crash to the floor.

“Is she okay?!” Raven asked, watching horrified as scooped the unconscious child into her arms.

Taweret didn't respond immediately, rushing over to a chez lounge chair and gently gently setting the child down. Raven was at her heels, crowding the Goddess as she moved away Belle's hair that was sticking to her sweaty brow. A fresh onslaught of tears hit Raven—Belle looked unwell, so pale and ashen, so sweaty…

“Give me room, child,” Taweret said, focused on Belle, checking the wrist she had slit even though there was no mark, pressing her hand to the unconscious child's chest over her heart, touching her forehead.

“I am no child,” Raven snarled out, and when Taweret looked over her shoulder, Raven stood as an adult.

A small smile graced Taweret’s lips, and she gently stroked Belle's cheek, inclining her head slightly to Raven. “My apologies. Your cousin will be fine.”

Raven closed her eyes to steady herself, awash in relief. “She will?”

“Yes,” Taweret said, getting to her feet, “albeit human.”

Raven was shocked. “H-human?”

The Goddess nodded.

Raven looked despondently down at Belle. “Forever?”

“Would you rather Belle live a mortal life or be dead already?”

Raven felt like crying all over. Sadly she sank onto the couch and took up Belle's limp hand. It looked so…Small. So fragile. Raven had never given much thought as to what it meant to be mortal, and now her favorite person in all of existence was going to die one day, an old woman. Raven looked up at the Goddess.

“Can't you do anything?!”

Taweret shrugged in a fashion that was much more nonchalantly than she meant it. “This is a unique situation. Perhaps, but perhaps not. I don't know.”

Suddenly Ma’at stood in the room; Raven jumped at the unexpected appearance. Ma’at utterly ignored the fact she scared the sh*t out of the angel, and also that Raven was in her adult form again.

“Dove is unwell,” Ma’at stated. “While the battlefield is cleared, I am unsure if having her unconscious in that field would be wise. Might I offer your abode up for their shelter, dearest sister?”

Taweret snickered. “You seem to have hastily cast aside your non-interfering stance, dearest sister.”

Ma’at rolled her eyes. “May I help them or not?”

Still looking bemused, Tawert snapped her fingers—rather abruptly the room was much more full than it had been. Dove was unconscious, slouched between Dean and Castiel who were holding her up by either arm. Rowena and Sam flanked them. Everyone who was conscious blinked, shocked.

Ma’at rolled her eyes heavily and crossed her arms. “Your childish glee of messing with mortals will never cease, will it, sister? You could have at least warned their friends they would be indisposed for a while.”

Taweret, looking highly amused and like she might bust out laughing at any second, arched an eyebrow. “Dean spoke with Shannon and I frankly don't like that Negan fellow.”

“And the rest?”

Taweret pursed her lips, shoulders shaking in barely held laughter.

“Uh, a little help here,” Dean snapped.

“M-mom?” Raven asked, eyes wide in fearful panic.

Dean and Castiel looked at Raven, stunned.

“Raven?” Dean asked.

Raven took one look at Dean and swayed on her feet a little. Physically shaking her head, she ignored him, turning to the Goddess’. “Is my mother going to be alright?”

“She is weakened severely, but she doesn't appear to be in any life threatening danger,” Ma’at replied once she had passed her palm over Dove's forehead.

Swallowing thickly, Raven nodded. When she spoke her voice quaked. “Good. I need to be excused, I'm sorry.”

Raven rushed away.

“Raven?” Castiel asked worriedly.

“Cas, help me get Dove on that chez lounge over there,” Dean grunted.

Castiel nodded. Once Dove was situated, everyone present stood awkwardly (except the Goddess’—Taweret fused over Belle and Dove while Ma’at stood, looking bored, picking at her perfect nails). Sam finally broke the silence.

“That was Raven ?”

Castiel nodded.

“What happened?”

Castiel shrugged. “She's not actually a seven year old girl, Sam.”

“So then why—”

“When we knew the girls would meet Dove for the first time, we all thought it would be easier for her to digest the fact she had a daughter if she were…Smaller. Childlike.”

“Not as much guilt associated as there would be with seeing a grown child for the first time,” Dean said.

“Precisely,” Castiel said.

“Uh, is Raven okay?” Sam asked then, and then looked at Dean. “I mean, she took one look at you and looked like she had seen a ghost.”

“I think,” Ma’at said seriously, lifting her eyes, “Raven should be the one to approach that. She's been through a lot and I think it best if she relay what she can, when she can.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Dean muttered.

“Me neither,” Castiel agreed.

Raven walked back into the room then, composed. Castiel rushed to her and they hugged fiercely.

“I have been so worried about you,” Castiel told his daughter.

Raven sniffed against his shoulder and nodded, closing her eyes. “I'm fine, dad, really. I love you. I missed you so much.” Raven pulled away. “Sorry I didn't hug you sooner—”

Castiel shook his head and held her head in his hands, smiling. He kissed her forehead, and then all over her face. She crinkled her nose and laughed.

“Dad…”

“It's fine, Raven. It's just so good to have you back now.”

Raven couldn't do more than glance at Dean. As such, Sam came over and hugged Raven then. Rowena walked over and gave her a hug as well, causing Raven to laugh. The witch held both of Raven's hands and gave a squeeze.

“So…what's with Dove?” Dean asked quietly off to the side. “And Belle.”

“Belle is going to be fine from what I can gather,” Ma’at said, walking forward.

“She's mortal now,” Taweret said. “I think, anyway.”

“Mortal?!” Dean, Sam, and Rowena said together.

Castiel nodded at Taweret. “Yes; she is mortal now.”

Dean looked at Belle. “Poor kiddo.”

“Better than being dead though, right?” Raven conceded.

“Is it reversible?” Rowena asked.

“Doubtful,” Ma’at replied. “While your entire angelic lineage is different from my own—angels are truly a different species altogether, not to mention a separate Parthenon than my own—I feel confident enough in my cosmic powers and understanding of things to say with certainty it shouldn't be.”

Castiel sat next to the child and took her hand in his own, kissing the back of her hand. “Oh, dearest Belle…”

“Uh, no offense, but there has to be a way to reverse it,” Sam said.

Castiel shook his head.

Taweret sighed heavily then, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder and guiding him away. “Come, Samuel. I know how much you loved your books. I have my own library, so how about you feast your eyes upon it?” She glanced over at Rowena. “You too. I'm sure you're itching to see some ancient magic.”

“And Dove?” Dean asked worriedly as the trio left the room. “It seemed like every time I touched her she winced.”

Castiel walked over with a nod. “She tried to hide it but I noticed that as well. It was like whenever Dean and I touched her—”

“We hurt her,” Dean cut in quietly, sadly.

“You're both angels. Dove is low on grace. Your Heaven is powered by angel grace, and vice versa. It appears that her body is siphoning grace into her without her meaning to,” Ma’at said.

Dean paused. “So what you're telling me is Cas and I are charging stations ?”

Ma’at rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Nifty.”

“Not nifty,” Castiel said. “Not if we're causing her pain.”

Dove muttered then. Raven went to her side immediately and sat. “Mom?”

Dove didn't speak, didn't open her eyes. Raven sighed heavily.

“Okay obviously I don't want to cause her pain,” Dean said, looking at Dove, “but this is great! Dove can get her grace back!”

“We'll have to figure out how exactly though,” Cas said. “Certainly there should be some way to do it without causing her pain?”

“Maybe we can just give her little zaps? Little bursts that aren't painful?”

“Yes, but she doesn't seem to be able to control it…”

Dean and Cas stood off to the side, discussing the situation, while Raven sat by her mother, waiting.

~

Castiel didn't bother walking upstairs; he flew directly to Sam's bedroom door in the farmhouse. Hesitating for just a second with his fist raised, Castiel knocked three times. Seconds later, the door opened.

“Cas,” Sam said surprised.

Cas dropped his arm. “I wanted to let you know that I'll be gone for a little while.”

Sam raised both eyebrows.

“I wanted you to know so if someone came looking for me I wouldn't just be gone and cause a panic.”

Sam's eyebrows rose higher.

“I will be back though, I assure you.”

“Alright. Thanks for letting me know.”

Sam wanted to press the issue but frankly was afraid to. He felt more or less that Castiel wouldn't do anything stupid.

Castiel nodded and turned away to leave.

Right?

“Cas,” Sam blurted out before the angel could leave. Castiel turned back around, head tilted. “Er—how're you doing?”

“I'm fine, Sam,” Castiel replied immediately.

Sam's eyebrows dropped and he smirked, leaning against the door. “Really?”

Castiel let his guard down a little and chuckled. “I'm fine, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “Great. Because I'm fine too.”

Castiel smirked. “I'll be back.”

Sam nodded and Castiel vanished.

Chapter 6

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Though Dove was unconscious, Raven still held her hand. She didn't think she was doing much of anything, but she was sending her mother positive thoughts of healing. Her hand was glowing softly, a lovely shade of purple.

Dove murmured and moved her head. She had done that from time to time. It wasn't until Dove let out a gasp did Raven look down at her properly, and her green eyes lit up in happiness when she found Dove's own eyes were open and staring back.

“Raven?!” Dove asked, confused as to how she was an adult.

“Mom,” she smiled. “Taweret brought Belle and I back.”

Raven nodded towards the other side of the room. Dove looked at Belle, as a little girl, laying in a bed.

Dove made like she was going to get up, but Raven put a firm hand on her shoulder. Dove looked at her daughter fearfully.

“Is she…?”

“She's alive.”

Dove let out a sigh of relief.

“Mom, we should talk.”

Dove looked at Raven, in awe of her beauty. “You’re an adult?”

She nodded, smiling warmly. “Have been for a long time.”

“But,” Dove tried sitting up, but Raven stopped her again.

“Lay back. You’re weak because Dean and Dad were overpowering you.”

“What?” Dove asked, bewildered.

Raven took a breath and looked at Castiel, who was now standing next to her. “Mom, you’re not like the other angels.”

“I know. We all know,” Dove added with a nod.

“You’re made up of grace. All grace.”

“Ma’at said the same thing. I’m not understanding...how do you know this?”

Raven looked at Castiel and smiled. “I overheard a lot of things when I was little.”

Castiel looked at her, unamused. “Eavesdropping is not overhearing, darling,” he corrected.

Raven shrugged. “What did you expect me to do when I wasn’t allowed to run off and have fun?”

“That didn’t seem to stop you,” Castiel stated flatly.

Raven chuckled and nodded. “True.”

“Rave,” Dove said, drawing her attention back. “What did you mean by Cas and Dean overpowering me? Overpowering me how? We weren't fighting—did you mean physically overpowering me?” The angel looked horrified then. “Did I lose time again, do something without me even knowing?” She groaned.

“While you were in the Empty,” Raven explained patiently, “you depleted your grace. We think the leviathan bite was the beginning of it. It opened the opportunity for Uncle Luce to sense when you wanted to use your grace, hence being able to block you from communicating.”

Dove listened intently.

“When Grandpa created you, he created you with so much love and adoration that he used his grace. He poured his emotions into you and that is why you’re different. He realized he couldn’t have an angel with emotions like you have.” She shook her head and waved her hand. “We can go into detail later but the point I’m making is—your grace was draining fast in the Empty. But since you are created from Grandpa, he didn't just make you. You’re connected to Him and Heaven in more ways than any other angel. You are literally a part of them, and they you. So when another angel is around, when you’re around anything celestial, you feel that pull, right?”

Dove nodded.

“And the burning sensation?”

Dove nodded again.

“When Castiel and Dean touched you, they were basically charging you. From my understanding, since it’s never had to happen before, you were overwhelmed with it.”

Dove was beyond confused, but hearing that she could potentially get grace back thrilled her. “Wait, they can recharge me? I’m rechargeable? What?”

“I think if we were to get you to Heaven, you would go back to full strength, as if nothing happened,” Raven said and then looked at Castiel. “Can we get her there?”

Before he was able to answer, Dove felt a sharp pain in her chest and was suddenly overwhelmed with feelings. Grief, anger, heartbreak, sadness, and then all once—rage.

“Oh God.” Dove sat up, panicked at first and then just plain heartbroken. “No. No. Please.”

Raven grasped at her own chest and stared at Dove with sad eyes.

“You know, don’t you?” Raven asked quietly, solemnly.

“When did it happen?” Dove asked, tears streaming down her face.

“This morning,” Raven replied. She wrapped her arms around Dove. They sat and held one another, crying. “You can probably feel it now since you're not distracted by the battle. I've been feeling this all day.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, concerned over why Raven and Dove were suddenly crying.

“We said goodbye before I came here,” Raven finished, trying to ignore Dean.

Castiel then caught on to what was going on and knelt in front of the pair. He squeezed Dove's knee and looked at Raven. “I’m sorry, honey. I can tell you got close with him.”

“You don’t know the half of it, dad. I feel his pain. I feel uncle Cas’ pain.”

Castiel looked at Raven and frowned. “We all have a lot to catch up on, but right now, what can we do to help you?”

Raven shook her head. “There is nothing. We looked for every possibility to break it.”

Dean walked over and placed a comforting hand on Raven’s shoulder. When she looked up at him, her eyes widened and she shook her head, jumping to her feet.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Raven ran out of the room.

Dove looked at Dean; he looked shattered.

“I didn’t mean…” he started, staring at the door.

“Dean,” Dove said gently, “it’s not anything against you. The other Dean was just taken.”

“Taken? Like, Hellhounds taken?”

Dove nodded, tears slipping over.

“Oh man,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Seeing me is probably sending her over the edge.”

“Just give her some time. Ok? We all need—”

“Wait,” he interrupted Dove. “How did you know? What did you just feel?”

“I can feel Cas’ anguish.” Dove looked down, picking at her fingers. “I can also feel his anger and it’s unlike any rage I’ve ever felt.”

“How are you able to do that? Wait—why can't I? I'm an angel.” He turned to look at Castiel. “Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “I feel nothing.”

“Our grace is mixed,” Dove said, thinking out loud. “I’m guessing we can feel one another’s feelings if it’s overwhelming. I was able to feel things when I was in the Empty, too. But this?” Dove looked at him, fear in her eyes. “Dean, this isn’t just anguish over losing a loved one. This is pure rage. He has hatred in his heart. Angels don’t feel true hatred. I fear what he will do.”

“Well, what would you do if it were you in his situation?” he asked, knowing where it was most likely going. He reached out and took Dove's hands.

“If it were you or Cas that were taken and I was left behind?” she asked, to be clear about what he was asking.

He nodded and she slowly climbed to her feet.

“I’d rip Hell apart piece by piece until I found you guys. Then I—”

Before Dove could finish, a crack appeared in the center of the room. Everyone moved out of the way, watching and waiting to see what was coming through. Castiel and Dean both had angel blades out and ready. However the weapons were unneeded. If she had more energy she would have literally ran into the man who had just walked through the rift. Even so, Dove threw herself into the arms of the other Castiel.

To his slight alarm, she went limp in his arms, crying, and he helped steady her on her feet. Dove attempted to get words out but couldn't.

“Dove,” Castiel said in deep worry. “You're so weak. Come, let's get you to sit.”

Cas lifted his head to make sure he didn't stumble with Dove's added weight, and when he did, his own knees nearly buckled. Staring at him in a wild panic were the green eyes he had come to know and love; before him stood the man he had just lost. Castiel abruptly stopped breathing altogether, outright forgetting to. He thought he had braced himself for seeing the other Dean but apparently he had been a fool.

“Sorry,” Dean said roughly. With a final look at the Cas that was not of his universe, he ducked his head. “I'll make myself scarce.”

“Dean,” his Castiel said in worry, starting to walk after him.

“It's fine,” Cas said immediately, his voice making his twinned pair stop and look at him. “It's to be expected. I showed up unannounced.”

The other Castiel hesitated. With Dean gone, Castiel wrapped his arm firmly around Dove and walked her back to the bed. She leaned into him, grabbing at his lapels and crying against his chest.

“I'm sorry, Cas, I'm sorry.”

Castiel kissed her head. “It's not your fault, Dove. Now…are you alright? You're weak. What happened?”

Dove pulled away and wiped off her face stubbornly. “I'm fine.”

Castiel gave her a sympathetic look and a soft head tilt. “But you're not.”

Dove's lip trembled for a second before she broke down again. “My grace is gone. Maybe.” She sniffed. “I mean, Raven just told me that apparently I'm rechargeable, so there might be hope.”

At the word ‘rechargeable’ Castiel's brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

“Apparently maybe if I get into Heaven my grace will come back full force.” Dove buried her face in her hands. “I don't know though. Maybe it'll work for Belle, too, or maybe it won't, or—”

Castiel looked up at the other Castiel in confusion. Castiel pointed at the pale girl laid out on the bed. Cas gasped softly.

“The battle was won,” Castiel explained to his counterpart. “The virus has been stopped, but it was at the expense of bleeding Belle’s grace completely.”

“When did all this happen?” Castiel breathed.

“Earlier today.”

“Today? I am so sorry, I had no idea.” Castiel looked mortified. He started to get to his feet. “It was utterly incredulous of me to show up like this unannounced and unwelcome. It was selfish, I wasn't thinking clearly at all, and—”

“Cas,” Dove said sympathetically, “It's okay, we know.”

Cas had paused, his mouth opened. Then he spoke slowly. “Well, yes, but still. You all have so much going on. I am so sorry for the intrusion—”

“You're not an intrusion, Castiel,” the other Castiel clarified, which stopped Cas in his tracks. The Castiel that spoke tilted his head to the side and he squinted, confused. “Why does me saying that surprise you?”

Castiel swept his eyes around the room at these people he had come to think of as family. He just never thought it was truly reciprocated; certainly they all only saw him for the meddlesome fool he was?

“Cas,” Dove said, and he looked down at her. “You just lost a loved one. We're not scorekeeping who has it worse. We're telling you, fight or not, you're welcome here.”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak several times but couldn't find his voice. Finally he bowed his head, once again embarrassed by the tears that threatened to find purchase outside. Once collected and sure he wouldn't cry, Castiel raised his head.

“Were there any other casualties? Was the virus reversed in full? So Belle is—”

“Human.”

Everyone turned to the new voice. Raven was back. As soon as she laid eyes on the other Cas her chin wrinkled and she rushed forward. Castiel let go of Dove and got to his feet. As soon as Raven was in his arms Castiel quietly broke down, hiding his face against her shoulder. She swayed him back and forth, one hand running through his hair over and over. Dove and her Castiel respectfully gave the pair room, sitting next to each other and holding one another in their own grief.

“I'm so sorry uncle Cas,” Raven said just loud enough to be heard.

Castiel simply nodded, embarrassed at his tears. He didn't want the rest to see him fall apart, especially not if he was going to ask them what he planned to. It wasn't until he was good and ready did Castiel pull away and lifted his (now red) eyes, sweeping them around the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then Sam came barreling into the room, his head tucked down as he was reading something.

“Cas, I know you assured me she was fine, and I trust you, I do, but I just wanted to make sure I didn't—” Sam lifted his head, took one look at the other Castiel, and froze. “Oh.”

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel greeted, his voice even more raw than it normally was.

Sam looked pained immediately.

“Oh,” he repeated, eyebrows raised in sympathy and his brow pulled together. “It—it happened, didn't it?”

Castiel nodded.

Sam shut the book and came over, hugging Castiel. He patted the angel's back and said, “I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said quietly. Then he chuckled a little bit. “And I assure you, Belle will be fine. If all her grace was truly drained but it didn't kill her, then she is merely mortal now. She will wake up, unharmed, soon.”

Sam pulled away and nodded. Castiel gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Her body just has to reboot (air quotes) after going through such an ordeal.”

Sam smirked and nearly laughed. He wasn't sure how the man in mourning would have appreciated laughter though, so he kept it to himself. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I told you,” the other Castiel said with a withering glare at his Sam.

“Well, uh. If you need me I'll be…Around.” Sam looked sheepish. He had started to say ‘If you need me I'll be looking for Dean because I need to give him a hug’, but realized what he was saying, and instead sort of mumbled it, ending with ‘Around’. So, bright red at the insensitive mistake, Sam tried to rush back out of the room.

“Sam, wait,” Cas said, and he took a deep breath. “I actually am here because I want to ask you something.”

Sam blinked.

“I…think your brother should be here as well.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing off to the side. “Oh, uh. Sure, Cas. Whatever you need. I'll… Go get him.”

Castiel swallowed audibly and nodded. When Sam rushed off, Dove bit her bottom lip and looked at Castiel. Castiel missed the look because he had started talking to Raven again.

“Raven, I'm sorry. I know it's probably going to be difficult for you to see—” he stumbled his words, unable to say Dean's name, “—him, but I do need him to be here, and for that I am sorry.”

“Whatever you need, Cas,” Raven said, squeezing his hand.

Moments later Sam returned with Rowena and Dean in tow. Dean entered slowly, eyeing Cas up and down with an almost guilty hesitation. Cas glanced at him, finding himself unable to look for any longer than that. Even that quick peek made his throat clench.

“Hello, Castiel,” Rowena said.

Cas nodded; she too seemed apprehensive.

Rowena wrung her hands for a moment before finally spitting it out. "I'm…Sorry. For your loss.”

Cas didn't reply.

“Sam told me,” she added.

Cas nodded and spoke sincerely. “Thank you, Rowena.”

“So…” Sam said. “What's up?”

Suddenly the weight of the situation crashed down on Cas. He looked around the room once more with his still red-rimmed eyes, falling on these people who he helped and whom had helped him. He had come to them, abruptly, selfishly. He began to laugh and cry all at once; nearly everyone looked at him, startled.

Shaking his head, Cas ran his hand over his face, wiping off his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” he said, still laughing. “I show up here, unannounced, with this—this—ridiculous, insane plan in my head, and—and—and—I think the worst part is that I actually think I had myself believing that you'd all go along with it, and—”

“Cas,” Dove said gently, walking to him and putting her hand on his forearm.

Cas looked at her, trying to not cry harder, still addressing the entire room. A laugh of disbelief bubbled out of his mouth and popped, making his voice unnaturally high. “—I mean, I'm acting irrationally, and then I honed in on Castiel here, assuming I wouldn't—assuming I wouldn't walk out into your world from the rift with all of you in the bloodied state you're in and—” Cas gestured around the room wildly, “—and all of this, and—”

“Cas,” Rowena tried cutting in gently.

Cas kept rambling on, laughing again. “I mean, my God, haven't you people done enough for me? I have my angelhood back because of you! And then I show up here, expecting something that might lead to the ultimate sacrifice, and—and for what?” More unhinged laughter. “I can't. I'm—no, I can't. I'm sorry. I show up and you're all still covered in blood and ichor and—”

“We'll do it.”

Cas slammed his mouth shut. Dean had spoken. Dean, who stood before Cas, as an angel, with his soul shining brighter tenfold. Dean, who looked like his beloved but different all the same. Dean, who was looking at Cas with such fierce determination and loyalty it made Cas forget to breathe again.

Cas shuffled on his feet and glanced off to the side before looking back at Dean. “Do what?”

“Go to Hell with you to rescue your Dean.”

“Woah, what ?” Sam said.

Dean ignored his brother, locking eyes finally with Cas. “That's what you're trying to spit out, right? Because Lord knows if I were in your position that's what I'd do.”

A tear dropped out of Cas’s eye. He looked around the room at everyone looking back at him expectantly. He tried speaking several times before he found his voice.

“I can't ask you that,” his voice trembled. “You—you literally just stopped your apocalypse—I think—”

“You're not asking,” Dean cut in. “We're volunteering.”

“We are?” Sam asked.

Dean rounded on his brother then, looking pissed. “Well I am, anyway. What's your hold up, Sam?”

Sam licked his lips nervously, glancing at the crying Castiel. Then he looked back at Dean. “I wanna help, you know I do—”

“So then help.”

“Dean,” Cas said so emotionally it caused the room to stop, and everyone just looked at him.

It had taken all of his willpower to say the name out loud, a beacon of his love, a pod of everything the man had meant to Cas. It was spoken with such reverence it wasn't natural, said in a way that only something non-human could manage. It was evocative of his devotion, his loss, his pain—and finally, his anger. With one word, he had painted a kaleidoscopic tapestry of what Dean Winchester had meant to this single angelic entity, and for just a second there was a burst of understanding amongst everyone in the room the weight of the love and utter devotion Castiel would always hold for Dean. Through Dean, Castiel had shown everyone a reflection into his very own being, and it came out as a fractured rainbow, beautiful and broken with pieces missing.

Cas took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting back his vessel's urge to collapse on the ground and become an immobile sobbing wreck.

“If Sam—or anyone—does not want to help me, that is their prerogative and I wouldn't dream of forcing myself upon them.”

Sam's face crumpled. “Cas…it's not that I don't want to help. Of course I want to help.”

“But?” Cas prompted somewhat wryly.

Sam gestured down at himself; he was in fact covered in blood from the battle. He sort of laughed. “I…don't think right now is really a good idea.”

Cas looked horrified and held up both hands. “Oh jeez, no, Sam! I wasn't planning on leaving right now.”

“When?” Rowena asked then, single eyebrow raised.

Castiel looked at her and then back at the group. Once more he had trouble finding his voice, opening and closing his mouth.

“I…I'm not sure. I need to go to Heaven to collect my garrison.”

The other Castiel looked surprised. “Our garrison?”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “I can't imagine breaking into Hell and stealing a soul from Alistair himself would be easy, even for me.”

Castiel paled. “Alistair has his soul?”

Cas nodded grimly.

“I don't know who that is, but if you're both having a reaction like that, f*ck that,” Dove spat, holding her head high. “I'm coming.”

“So am I,” Castiel agreed immediately.

“Hold on,” Rowena said, her voice high. “Now, I've heard of this Alistair demon, and he's not one to be trifled with. Extremely powerful, extremely volatile.” Rowena glanced at Raven. “I really don't want Raven here to be orphaned.”

“That won't happen because I'm coming with!” Raven said immediately.

“No,” Dean, Dove, and Castiel said together.

Raven's mouth dropped open. “ What ?”

“It's too dangerous, baby,” Dove said gently, stroking her daughter's hair.

“Uh, excuse me,” Raven snapped, attitude thick in her voice. “Did I not just help stop the apocalypse?”

“Exactly,” Castiel told his daughter gently, also stroking her hair. “One situation of mortal peril per century, alright?”

Raven angrily swatted his hand away and she took a step back, holding up both index fingers. “Okay, first off, stop petting me like a damn cat.”

Both Castiel's tilted their heads and squinted at her.

“Secondly, hello!” Raven gestured up and down at herself. “Adult? I'm not actually a kid? I'm actually a badass, unique, scary angel that's three thousand years old?!”

“I wouldn't qualify your personality as scary,” Cas said.

Raven rounded on him. “I didn't ask for qualifiers, uncle Cas.”

Cas looked offended.

Raven turned back to her parents. “Look… I know it'll be dangerous but…” Her voice faltered and she wrapped her arms around her waist, trying not to cry. She looked at the ground, eyebrows raised. “If I was in Hell he'd come after me. I know he would.”

“Raven, I can't ask this of you,” Cas said desperately.

Raven lifted her head, holding back tears stubbornly. “Well good, because I'm coming without your permission anyway.” She threw a glare at her parents. “Or anyone's.”

Cas looked at Rowena. “Rowena, I don't expect you to do anything. I honestly wasn't expecting you to be here.”

“Good,” Rowena said. “I…truly am sorry for what happened with Dean, but, er, going to Hell doesn't really sound like a good time to me. No offense.”

“Of course, none taken.”

“Castiel,” the other Castiel said then. “I also have obligations to Belle.”

“Of course,” Cas replied earnestly, “and I wouldn't dream of pulling you away from your daughter—”

Castiel sighed sadly, looking at the pale child. “She's not my daughter. But that's the point.” He looked back at Cas. “I have to protect her. I fear that once Lucifer realizes she's mortal he won't have use for her, and would try to kill her in retaliation for what we've done.”

Dove let out a cut off gasp. Castiel hugged her.

“Belle's safety comes first,” Cas replied immediately. He then shook his head. “Look, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, I haven't been able to think clearly since—since Dea—since it happened. I'm sorry—”

“Apologize one more time and I'm slapping you,” Dean said lightly with a hesitant smirk.

Cas looked at him. Dean swallowed. Then all at once Cas burst into tears, rushed forward, and clung to Dean. Dean looked stunned for a moment. Then he cautiously wrapped the other Cas in a hug and rubbed his back.

“I know Cas. It's okay buddy. We'll get him back, alright? We'll bring him home.”

Chapter 7

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Castiel appeared directly in Naomi's office. In his peripherals, he assessed the situation. He was, thankfully, alone with her, a variable he had been worried about. Cas was slightly surprised when the normally-white accent walls were splashed in colors of pink, purple, and blue. A discussion regarding a seemingly random change in decor was not what he had come for, though.

Naomi's head snapped up from paperwork upon his abrupt arrival. When she saw who it was, her jaw went slack.

“Castiel.”

“Naomi.”

Coming out of her temporary shock, she got to her feet. In all the time Castiel had known her, she seemed to only have two emotions; kniving and pissed off. She slipped into the latter, pressing her palms on the desk as though to steady herself.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“I've come to collect my garrison.”

She seemed stunned again, but shook it off quicker this time. “You what?”

“My garrison. I need my garrison.”

Naomi didn't speak at first. Then she laughed. “Your garrison? Yours?”

Castiel nodded. “That's what I said, yes.”

More laughter. She came around her desk then, staring him up and down with a look that would have wilted a flower. She sneered up into his eyes, lip curled.

“What makes you feel you have any right to even ask that of me?”

His response was the first inkling Naomi had that there was something off about Castiel. “It's not a question.”

More shock. Then she was livid. “How dare you! We haven't seen you in years—years!—and then you just show up out of the blue, demanding access to a garrison that you have no right to?”

Castiel was starting to get angry. “No right to? That garrison is mine.”

“Was, Castiel,” she corrected smugly, her voice airy. co*cking an eyebrow that begged him to challenge her, she crossed her arms. “Was.”

“How do you figure?”

“You lost any privileges the second you chose that green-eyed idiot over your sworn duties as a soldier of God. In fact—” she tilted her head, eyes honed on him, “—guards!”

Castiel was having none of it. He threw his hand out and with a genuinely surprised gasp, Naomi was thrown over her desk and pinned against the opposite wall. With the sound of running feet, three suited angels appeared in the doorway, clutching angel blades at the ready. They all took one look at the scene and nearly rammed into one another, coming to a screeching halt.

“Castiel,” one of the angels, a woman, said, sounding confused and awed all at once.

Castiel held out his other hand towards the three, and cast them a look of warning. Once sure they weren't going to do anything stupid, he looked back at Naomi.

“I haven't come here to fight.”

No one spoke.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Naomi.”

She didn't reply. So, he slowly clenched his hand as though he were clutching something. Naomi gasped, bringing a hand to her throat.

“Naomi,” he repeated, drawing out her name and saying it like he were singing it.

For the first time in memory, she looked fearful. She looked at the guards.

“Go,” she told them.

“But ma'am—” one of them, a male, tried to argue.

“Go!”

The three hesitated. Castiel looked at them.

“We're waiting outside,” the third, also a male, said. It was a statement, not a question.

Castiel nodded to them. He waited until they filed out and shut the door behind them before he released his hand. Naomi gasped and fell to her feet, almost stumbling.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Come on. I was barely even choking you.”

Naomi now looked downright fearful. “What happened to you, Castiel?”

Cas crossed his arms. “Three years trying to escape death at the hands of demons while the world collapsed around my ears? Bleeding all my grace and becoming human for a time? Surviving two months in Purgatory?”

She blinked.

Castiel gave a nonchalant shrug. “It changes someone, what can I say?”

She blinked again.

“So,” Castiel said, walking forward a few steps and putting his palms on her desk and leaning on it just as she had. “My garrison?”

She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “What do you need them for?”

“I'm going to Hell.”

She was back to being pissed. “You will do no such thing!”

He smiled and held up a finger. “Ah, remember Naomi? This is not a request.”

“Why do you need a garrison to go to Hell with you?!”

Castiel's eyes softened for just a moment, and then they became as troublesome as the blue sky right before a vicious thunderstorm. “A rescue mission.”

“Rescue—” she started. Then understanding washed over her. Crossing her arms, she flat out laughed at him. “Oh! This is about that green eyed fool I mentioned earlier, isn't it?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Call him that again.”

Naomi ignored him. “And yes, Castiel, we heard about how that specific Winchester got himself into that predicament.”

Naomi came around the desk then, sauntering. Her eyes were honed on his as he stood up and shifted back a few feet to give her room to stand before him. For a few seconds Naomi didn't continue, simply searching Castiel's face with her eyes, scrutinizing him intensely.

“If you honestly think I would willing offer assistance to the idiot who made my best asset practice disobedience, then you're just as much of an idiot as he is.”

Castiel's nostrils flared. “This is your final warning, Naomi, that this is not an inquiry. I have come to collect my garrison and thought it proper to inform you. Please don't make me regret my extension of kindness to you.”

“Kindness?” she barked out with a laugh. “Castiel! You come here, unannounced, someone who has been tried and convicted of disobedience—”

“Tried?” Castiel snapped back, starting to utterly lose his last shreds of composure. “There was no trial!”

“—sentence to death for the gravity of his treason,” she talked over him, beginning to shout.

“Shouldn't the accused be present for said trial? Or was this a farce trial, and you were just throwing a temper tantrum because you couldn't control me like all the other spineless pricks here?” he shouted right over her.

“—demand a garrison that has been stripped from him along with his rank,” she ranted.

“How do you think all the angels were revived, Namoi?” he screamed then.

“—only to say he wishes to use them in a rescue mission that will be seen as an act of aggression by the King of Hell and most likely open up outright war between Heaven and Hell—” she screamed right back.

“—I played a part in making sure Heaven was still intact!” Castiel bellowed.

“—all for a f*cking sniveling mortal he was dumb enough to fall in love with?!”

Castiel slammed his fist down on the desk so hard it cracked.

“It was Crowley himself that sent Dean's soul to damnation! Anything I do he will know does not extend further than my extraction of Dean, and I swear to you and God Almighty if he tries to drag Heaven into a war I will personally rip his head from his shoulders and cram it into his still-bleeding cavity!”

A look of horrified understanding swept over Namoi. Castiel had fundamentally changed. What's more, he was blinded in grief, ravenous to slurp up any shred of hope he could that might fix this, that he could still save Dean. Naomi understood that he was telling the truth; this was not a question, and it was happening.

Nothing would stop him.

With a cold shudder of fear running through her, she crossed her arms and tried to feign disinterest.

“Fine. Enjoy your suicide mission. My only request is that you try to not get my entire garrison slaughtered.”

“Of course,” he said, seeming to relax slightly.

She didn't relax one bit. “Anything else?”

“No. I will await you to gather them and we will reconvene.”

Naomi didn't reply, because she didn't trust her voice to not quiver in fear.

Castiel inclined his head. “It was good to see you, Namoi.”

Fighting off the urge to wince, she instead gave a curt nod. Castiel disappeared.

~

Castiel paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his right hand.

He was nervous. Actually that was a bit of an understatement. He needed this to go smoothly. There was a real possibility that Naomi might show up with the garrison in tow, and then some, with the intent to throw him in jail or kill him. He was less worried about the latter than the former. Everyone in the damn universe knew how powerful Castiel was, how hearty he had been made. It might suck, and he would probably be severely injured, but he doubted whatever Naomi managed to throw at him would kill him.

He'd be absolutely useless to Dean in jail, though.

“Come on,” Castiel said to himself. “What's taking so long?”

As though on cue, many footfalls hit his ears then.

“Sorry for the delay,” Naomi called out, a large smile on her face.

Castiel frowned. “What took you so long?”

“Your garrison was disbanded,” she said with a smug tone of satisfaction to her voice, “It's ranks divided and dispursed to others.”

Castiel's eyes glanced over the four rows of ten. He recognized each one of them. Even so, he frowned deeply.

“Where are the rest?”

Naomi gave a delighted laugh. “That's it, Castiel.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean that's it? There's forty here—I had hundreds—”

“Who are no longer loyal to you.”

She looked pleased.

Castiel blinked. Disbelief in his eyes, he searched over the group.

“Is this true?”

“You're a traitor, Castiel. What did you expect?”

Cas glared at her. “I didn't ask you.”

“It's true,” an angel in the third row, female, said, breaking off and coming forward. She smiled and held her arms open. “Naomi isn't lying. It took a while to find everyone, and we're the only ones willing to help.”

Castiel smiled and held his own outstretched arms to her. “Hannah.”

They hugged. When they uncoupled, he held her by the shoulders and smiled. “How have you been?”

Before Hannah could reply, Naomi cleared her throat in an obnoxious way. They both looked at her.

“As…touching as I'm sure this is, is there anything else Castiel? Some of us have actual, important work to carry out.”

“No, that's all,” Castiel replied, “you can go back to licking sh*t off the bottom of people's shoes.”

She paled, looking so furious she might be sick. Not allowing her any sort of retort, Castiel turned to his angels.

“Follow me.”

Castiel was silently relieved when, upon turning on his heel and walking away, his small garrison’s heel clicks followed in his wake. They did not question why they weren't flying. Not a single voice raised the question of where he was taking them, or what the plan was. Everything was going as smoothly as he had hoped for, and his heart soared in his chest.

Pushing open the double-doors, leaving the warehouse area that Naomi had once made Castiel murder hundreds of Dean's before they ever met, the seraph nearly smiled. Smiling, however, was not the brand he wished to display as he executed the next part of his plan. No—to smile might make him seem overly confident, co*cky; some might even say deranged. In order for this to work entirely, he needed all of Heaven to know and believe he was sound in mind.

As the garrison made its way down the hallways, angels began to take note of his unexpected presence and openly gawked. Castiel needed to remind everyone who he was, what he was, and what he had come from. As he walked, he exuded an aura with his head held high; he was Castiel, brother of the archangels themselves. He was to be obeyed unquestioned. His disposition showed he knew his Heavenly and God-given position, and would never again shrink from the responsibility that came with it.

Castiel did not know if Heaven knew his role in recharging it, of helping Sam siphon and release the entrapped graces of the angels Lucifer had kept within himself to start armageddon. It didn't really matter to Cas either way; he strutted down the white halls smugly, acting like he knew for certain they all knew he played a part in saving Sam. Perhaps he wasn't a direct contributor, but he had saved the man several times; first when he listened to Dean and didn't shoot the man on sight when he stumbled, suffering from amnesia, into their campsite. Then there were the tornadoes. Had Sam died throughout any of that, Croatoan wouldn't have been reversed—allowing himself just the slightest smirk for a second, Castiel suddenly realized maybe he was actually a direct contributor to Sam's saving and Heaven being restored.

So, as Castiel pushed open the final door that would lead to the room that connected to Heaven's Gate on the surface, the same one he and Crowley had gone into a year ago, Castiel was outright happy with how this had gone. He had his garrison. He paraded himself throughout Heaven to show he was no longer afraid of retribution for his disloyalty and disobedience. He had made it to Heaven's Gate without any distraction, without any bloodshed.

Castiel was starting to think he might actually save Dean.

Chapter 8

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Castiel had taken his garrison to a diner. It had clearly startled and befuddled a great deal of them.

“I thought we could catch up,” Castiel had explained to them eagerly, but never made any mention of where that catching up would take place.

When they arrived, Castiel had politely asked to speak to the manager. Once the manager was pulled, he asked if the owner was on the premises. To say the manager looked slightly freaked out at forty one well dressed people with ties standing in the space was an understatement. Even when Castiel smiled to quell the woman's unease, it didn't help.

“Uh…no,” she said.

“So you are the person in charge who would make executive decision making for the establishment?”

“Yeah…”

“My friends and I would like to hold a meeting,” Castiel said. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out money. “We would like to have the area to ourselves. Might you close for a little while? I’m willing to comp you for any monetary losses your business might incur from loss of foot traffic.”

The young woman looked at him like he had sprouted five more heads. “You’re joking?”

Castiel glanced behind himself, checking to see if perhaps he had been behaving in a manner that would make it seem like he was. When no one in his garrison did anything more than look serenely back at him, he turned back to the manager. “No. I have the money right here.”

As though waking from a dream, she suddenly seemed to snap-to and she looked panicked. “Wait–what sort of meeting? You’re not Neo-Nazi’s, are you?!”

Castiel flat out laughed. “I assure you, we are the farthest thing from that.”

The manager bit her lip. Just then Hannah stepped forward from where she stood at Castiel’s right. “If you must know, we are–”

“Very pleased with your generosity,” Castiel cut her off before she could blurt out they were a bunch of angels. He smiled and shoved the money forward.

Cautiously the manager took one of the bills. When she saw it was a fifty, she held it up to the light. Then, she took her marking pen and swiped the money. When it showed legit, and she ran it through the final verification step, the machine, her eyes grew wide. Grinning then, she shrugged.

“Okay I’m game!”

“Thank you,” Castiel said.

The manager opened up her cash register, put the rest of Castiel’s money in, and then went to the front door and locked it, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’. Once everyone was situated–some with coffee, some with water, none with food-the manager let them know she’d be in the back with the workers and they’d leave them alone with their secret meeting.

“After all that cash you gave us, take aaaaall the time you want!”

Once the kitchen door swung shut, Castiel turned to the forty expectant faces. Any and all excitement he had felt slowly drained from him. He suddenly realized he had no idea what to say to these angels who had been nothing but loyal to him. In fact, when it really settled into his bones that this group here was the last of his garrison, he was hit with such strong emotion it made him temporarily verklempt. He swallowed many times.

“Thank you for being here.”

Castiel thought that would be a good start. Plus it was sincere–it was one of the most sincere things he had ever said in his entire existence.

“Your unwavering loyalty means the world to me, and I need you to understand how truly appreciative I am of it.”

Castiel was hoping someone would jump in. No one did though. Somewhat awkwardly, he cleared his throat. Off to the side, one of his angels slowly raised his hand. Castiel, with a surge of excitement, sat up straight and gestured.

“Ah! Rabdos! It’s so good to see you!”

“Er, yes,” Rabdos said awkwardly, lowering his hand.

“How have you been?”

Rabdos glanced around. “Um. Fine.”

Castiel continued to smile at him.

“Um, Sir.”

“Yes?”

“Uh–what’re we doing here, exactly?”

Castiel was gobsmacked. It furthered when he looked around at the small gathering and they were all looking at him expectantly, innocent curiosity written all over their faces. He frowned.

“Naomi…didn’t…tell you?”

There was a smattering of negative confirmations, ‘no’’s and shaking of heads.

Castiel turned his head. “sh*t.”

Several angels gasped. Castiel looked at them, and he had to stop himself from his mouth dropping open. Even so, he furrowed his brow and chidded, “Oh stop.”

Several looked outright baffled now. Another angel hesitantly raised her hand.

“Ah! Amnael! How have you been?”

“Er–good, Sir,” she said meekly. “Uh–how have you been?”

“I’ve been–” Castiel paused. He looked into the faces of his friends, his colleagues; really this gathering was the closest thing he had to a family for a very, very long time. All those emotions and feelings came rushing back, and he realized if he couldn’t be himself around his angels then who could he? So, he allowed his shoulders to slouch and he spoke quietly. “I’ve been better, Amnael, if I’m being honest.”

Seeing his guard down made the entire room’s disposition shift. Suddenly it was like the past few years hadn’t happened, and they were right back where they all started, a close-knit unit that was more family than military.

“Where did you go?” an angel by the name of Hamael blurted out, sounding concerned.

“We tried looking for you,” a female, Valoel, said desperately.

“Is it true what they said?” another, Aeshma, said.

“What did they say?” Castiel cut in quickly.

“That you disobeyed,” Rahatiel said, barely above a whisper.

“Willingly,” Iaoel whispered, looking scared.

“For a mortal?” Laurette said, sounding slightly aghast.

The room fell silent. Then, somewhat abruptly, Castiel laughed. Everyone looked like he had gone mad. Sitting back, he waved a dismissive hand and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, everyone. I just–” he laughed, sweeping his head side to side. “I just find it absurd you’re all speaking about these things like you don’t know.”

“We don’t know,” Hannah said quietly at his side, and he looked at her, wide-eyed.

“There was nothing more than rumors,” Pahaliah murmured, looking like he might burst into tears.

“Naomi said–” Aeshma tried to say, but another angel cut in.

“Oh screw what Naomi said!”

Aeshma gasped. “Hayyel!”

“No, really,” Hayyel spat. “Keeping us in the dark, not telling us anything other than if we saw Castiel we were to kill him on sight!”

Castiel frowned deeply, his expression going dark.

“They disbanded the garrison immediately, without explanation,” Shoftiel said grimly, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“Uriel swooped in and took a bunch of us as his own,” Mirh snarled and crossed his arms.

“Even more were sent for reprogramming,” Perpetriel said, lip curled in disgust.

Then all at once Dina burst into tears. “They killed Boel.”

Castiel outright gasped, head snapping toward the female angel. “No!”

Dina leaned against Hannah, who immediately wrapped an arm around her.

“Your twin?” Castiel pressed, unable to believe his ears.

Boel nodded, covering her face.

“But–but why?”

“They wanted to make an example out of him,” Oriash said in a low, sad voice, laced with deep anger and hatred, so thick it startled Castiel.

An unwelcome chilly shiver coursed through Castiel. “Why? An example of what?”

“He was–lippy,” Hannah said darkly.

“When they tried to give him to Uriel he refused the order,” Dina sobbed.

“When they sent him for reprogramming, he literally screamed about it,” Verukah said.

“When they threatened to put him in jail, he–” Douma tried saying, but then looked away.

Castiel was scared. “He what, Douma?”

“He started a riot.”

Castiel turned a horrible shade of white.

“He started yelling about how it was wrong that you were sentenced to death without a proper trial,” Sizouze said, expression showing the trauma from that day was still fresh with her.

“Others joined in,” Dardradriel said, a dark shadow passing over his eyes. “It became an open forum for everyone airing their grievances.”

“It quickly turned to violence,” Hannah explained.

Castiel put a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

“After they publicly executed my brother,” Dina said, her voice shaking, “everyone calmed down. Anyone who was still loyal to you quietly either accepted their reassignments or reprogramming.”

“Then the demons came,” Empyrean whispered.

“We held them off for as long as we could,” Hannah explained.

“We had so many casualties, ” Caphriel lamented, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead.

“Once we were sufficiently weakened,” Anapiel said, “that’s when Lucifer showed his ugly face.”

Telantes rubbed his face and then looked at Castiel. “It was like a bomb went off. I have no idea what spell he used, but suddenly everyone was just…”

“Gone,” Hannah breathed.

“He siphoned your souls,” Castiel whispered.

“Yes,” Harahel said.

“And then we were expelled–” Peiel said, but Castiel cut in with tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

All the angels just stared at him. He swept his watery eyes around the room.

“I am so, so sorry.”

“For what?” Hannah asked gently.

“Everything.”

“Everything is a lot, Castiel,” Asteroath chuckled, trying to make his commander feel better.

Castiel continued to look around the room desperately. “Where were the leaders?”

“Where do you think?” Dina growled angrily.

“Naomi took off,” Hannah snapped.

“So did Uriel,” Telnantes said.

“Michael left to try to reason with his ward,” Hannah said with a disgusted wave of her hand.

“Lucifer?” Castiel asked.

Hannah nodded.

“I should—” Castiel said with a shaking voice and tears barely being kept at bay. “I should have been there.”

“Where did you go?” Hamael asked quietly again for a final time, sounding sympathetic now.

Castiel closed his eyes and a tear dripped out. Gathering his strength, shoving his shame down, he opened his eyes and looked at every single angel at least once as he spoke.

“What you heard is true. I would like to say it wasn't so—actually no, that's a lie. I'm proud to be here before you, telling you all what I have done and who I have become. Some of you may not understand it. Some of you may not agree with it. Some of you might be angry, disgusted, and for you, I simply remind you that the door is right there, and I shan't hold you back should you wish to return to Heaven.”

Several angels looked apprehensively at Castiel as he spoke, conviction growing with every word.

“The mortal I was to look after, the one true vessel of Michael, I—” The room didn't breathe in the pause Castiel took. “—fell for him. When he refused Michael, I was to kill him. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Now—” Castiel held up a hand, “—while I don't expect anyone here to understand, to agree, or to forgive me, I simply ask you to allow me the respect to speak my peace before you.”

No one moved. So, Castiel lowered his hand.

“I fell in love with the man who loved the world more than he loved himself. He was not perfect by any means, but his heart, his soul, was the brightest and purest thing I have ever laid eyes on outside of a celestial being. And yes, I know, I know some of that is because the vessel of Michael has to be pure. But—but there's more than that.”

Several angels began to look intrigued, listening raptly.

“He showed me how to love; he showed me what it meant to love. It was like—it was like the very fiber of his being was good. Good in the Biblical sense— right, natural. He was meant to be.”

Castiel shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose a moment. He held up his hand once more, eyes closed. “I'm sorry. I have such difficulty explaining any of this in a way that makes sense. Everything I say is falling short.”

Castiel opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking around imploringly, outright begging to be understood.

“He was just this…this embodiment of love, and he felt everything so deeply…There are mortals, and then there is Dean Winchester. At any point he could choose a better life for himself, but time and time again he picks everyone else around him over himself. Being selfless isn't a description, it's what he is. Well… Was.”

Some silence. With an unsure, trembling hand, Hannah reached out and put her hand on top of Castiel's. When he didn't flinch, didn't pull away, she gave it a squeeze.

“What happened, Castiel?” Hannah asked, sympathy awash in her voice.

“He's in Hell right now.”

There was an explosion of surprised murmurings. Castiel allowed the outbreak to happen. Finally one voice rose up amongst the rest.

“If he was so good, how is he in Hell?” Justiphine asked. Then, a quick addition, “I'm not questioning if he was or not, I simply am asking–what happened?”

Castiel sighed heavily. “It's a bit of a long story. All you need to know is that he sold his soul to get his brother out of Purgatory.”

More surprised whispers. Castiel waited until it naturally took its course and stopped. When it did, Castiel got to his feet slowly.

“I think it's foolhardy of me at this point to ask for your services. I disobeyed—I chose a mortal man over my sister's, my brethren, my home . In Heaven's time of need, I fled, hid away, obsessed with protecting Dean as the world fell apart at the seams thanks to the Croatoan Virus. I could feel Heaven becoming weaker and weaker, but I myself was struggling to survive…Even so, I could have—I should have —”

Hannah got to her feet and looked directly into Castiel's eyes. “You want to save Dean Winchester, don't you?”

Castiel winced, looking guilty.

“That's why we're here, isn't it?”

Castiel looked as though he feared Hannah would outright physically hit him. Suppressing a lame whimper, he nodded.

The last thing Castiel expected was for Hannah to hug him. He stood, stunned, arms dangling limp at his sides. He was shocked when Dina stood up and hugged them, who was then followed by Hamael, and then Telnantes, and Peiel and Hayyel, Asteroath and Laurette, until finally all forty angels were on their feet, hugging each other, facing toward the epicenter that was Castiel, their leader. Castiel was so confused and out of sorts he never even realized he had started to weep.

“Wha—what are you doing?”

Smiling, Hannah pulled away so she could gently hold his face in her hands. “Castiel. We believe in you. We never stopped believing in you. If this man really means that much to you, of course we will stand by your side. You’re our leader, our friend.”

“Our family,” Dina said with strong conviction, pulling away to look deeply into Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel looked around at everyone, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was home.

Chapter 9

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Castiel was dreaming.

“You know, Sammy and I used to love doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Dean had smiled, lifting both eyebrows as he looked at the impressive Wisconsin skyline. Stars glittered overhead, smattered across the inky stillness as far as the eye could see. They both knew stars sat behind the treeline, even though they couldn't see them, obscured from view as they sat perched on the hood of the Impala.

“This,” Dean said, still smiling as he looked up at the sky. “Sitting on Baby, looking at the stars. We loved the in-betweens.”

Castiel had looked at him quizzically. “The in-betweens?”

Dean nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “When Sammy and I weren't hunting…Or rather, when we'd make time for things that weren't that, we'd try to have fun. Pool hustling was fun, just as much as it was a means to put food in our mouths. If we were in the area of a concert we wanted to go see, you bet your bottom dollar we'd drop what we were doing to go see it.”

Castiel had smiled fondly, taking a swig of his own amber liquid.

“And nights like these? With the sky sorta torn open so we could see the universe?”

Castiel turned to look at Dean, and he felt like he was falling in love with the man all over again. Dean, with his perfect eyes shining, a reflection of the sparkling stars above; Dean, with his slightly upturned nose and freckles that peppered his face just as the stars peppered the sky; Dean, who was often dismissed as muscle by people that didn't know him, people who didn't know how beautiful his language could be sometimes, with his supple lips pouring out phrases like ‘the sky torn open so we could see the universe’.

“Well, Sammy and I could just sit out here for hours , enjoying the act of being alive. ”

Castiel's breath had been taken away. Dean had turned to him then, catching Castiel staring. Even in the dim light, Castiel could see Dean's cheeks turn pink. He pursed his lips together, looking ravishingly shy and self-conscious.

“What?” Dean had asked quietly, embarrassed, like he didn't deserve the adoration that Castiel was looking at him with.

How could Castiel possibly put into words the enigma that was Dean Winchester? The angel didn't think, even if he pieced together a string of English, Latin, and Enochian, he could find the right combination to convey what Dean meant to Castiel; couldn't explain the beauty of Dean's very soul back to him. So that evening, with the night's sky torn open, a far away owl accompanying their discourse with its serenade, Castiel chose a universal language to convey what Dean meant to Castiel.

He kissed him.

~

Castiel opened his eyes and felt his cheeks were wet. It was a stupid gesture but, just to be sure, he extended his right arm.

His palm felt nothing but a mattress.

Castiel closed his eyes and rubbed at them, sighing harshly.

“God damn it.”

Angrily Cas kicked off the sheet and sat up. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he got up and went to the en suite bathroom. Working on autopilot still from when he wasn't an angel, he reached out to grab his toothbrush but then stopped.

He didn't need to brush his teeth. Plus Dean's toothbrush sat next to his. Frowning deeply he swept the cup holding the two brushes into the wastebasket and left the bathroom, angrily slapping the light off.

“Morning,” Sam said in a way that sounded almost chipper once Castiel had entered the kitchen to grab coffee.

Castiel paused. Shaking his head, he went over to the counter.

“I got you some coffee already,” Sam said, sitting at the table.

Castiel turned around. Sam sat there, laptop open with two mugs in front of him. One was steaming. Castiel's shoulders slumped, surprised, releasing tension he wasn't even aware he had been holding.

“Oh. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam nodded. Castiel stepped forward and pulled the chair out, scraping loudly. When he sat across from Sam, the larger man slid the hot mug forward. Castiel touched it; however, instead of drinking the coffee, he dropped his hands into his lap. Sam had been typing but paused.

“Sleep well?” Sam asked, looking at the screen and not the angel.

“No,” Castiel admitted.

Sam smirked. “Me neither.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Cas replied lightly.

The room filled with the clacking of keys as Sam typed away. When Castiel didn't drink, nor made any suggestion he was going to talk, Sam stopped what he was doing and looked at Cas.

“Where'd you go last night? You were gone awhile?”

Castiel thought how utterly insane his answer was. I used my angelic abilities and a spell to locate Castiel in the other universe so I could ask for help to rescue Dean from the clutches of the head torturer in Hell. But once I opened a rift and went through, it wasn't so straight forward, because I found them battered and bloodied after having been narrowly victorious in stopping their universe's apocalypse. Didn't stop me from asking for their aid, even as Belle laid there, trapped in a seven year old body that will eventually grow old and deteriorate because she depleted all her grace so she's a mortal now, with a mortal life expectancy, because I'm such a selfish bastard.

“Cas?”

Castiel remembered Dean's anguish during the Croatoan outbreak, how scared he had been to have anyone know he was the Dean Winchester. What made Castiel think of that right then he wasn't exactly sure. Castiel licked his lips, chest swelling with uncomfortable and overwhelming emotions.

“When Lucifer was using you as his vessel, did you see the broadcasts?”

A dark shadow passed over Sam's face. “Broadcasts?”

“Yes, broadcasts,” Castiel clarified. “When the virus first happened, news stations kept up with the chaos as best they could. When the bombings started, President Palin tried to assure the country it was the right course of action. Who would listen to a woman who was bombing her own country though?”

Sam co*cked an eyebrow. “Cas?”

“Especially when she came clean regarding the supernatural source of the virus and what was happening.”

Sam paled, frankly looking like he might faint. He brought a shaking hand to his hair, smoothing it down repeatedly. “Yeah, I—I remember that. He uh— we —killed her during a live news conference.”

Castiel looked grim. “So you do remember?”

Sam nodded, his expression becoming glassy. “I remember getting shot. I remember snapping all of their necks with just a flick of my wrist.” Sam's eyes came into focus and he swallowed thickly. “And I remember standing at the podium, with blood on my white suit, addressing the nation. I explained who I was—what I was. I introduced myself as Sam Winchester…but I also introduced myself as Lucifer.”

Castiel nodded.

Sam palmed his mouth, nostrils flaring as he struggled with what he was saying. “I uh, I made sure everyone understood that it was real, that I was real, both Sam Winchester and Lucifer.”

Castiel tapped his own forehead. “You pushed that bullet out of your forehead with your mind. That got most people to believe what was happening was real.”

Sam nodded. “And I made it my main talking point, put emphasis on how—put emphasis on the fact that—that—”

“That Dean said no to Michael,” Castiel said gently.

Sam swallowed, and when he blinked a tear dripped out. Clenching his jaw, he stared evenly at Cas.

“Why’re we talking about this, Cas? Why now? I asked you what you did last night—”

Castiel leaned forward. He wasn't angry, but he held a menacing, strict disposition that stopped Sam's words with just one look. “Dean went to his grave believing everyone hated him.”

“That's ridiculous,” Sam breathed out in disbelief, with a derisive snort even as another tear threatened to come into the world. “Word of Dean spread like wildfire. He became a martyr of sorts, even before people thought he was dead.”

Castiel nodded. “He became an idol of hope.”

“Not many people actually held it against Dean for refusing Michael.” Sam chuckled bitterly and wiped the tear away that was standing in his eye, looking at his now-wet finger. “It pissed Lucifer off badly that he couldn't turn the people against Dean.”

“I bet it did,” Cas said, sounding almost proud.

Sam shook his head. “So why’re we talking about this?”

“He didn't think he deserved adoration, or respect, or love.”

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he shook his head. “Yup, sounds like Dean.”

“I need him to know he's cared for,” Castiel said desperately. “I need him to know he's worth saving.”

Sam gave the being across from him a sidelong look. “Cas…”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I went to the other universe to tell them I plan to recuse Dean from Hell.”

Silence. No one else in the house was awake yet. The only noise was the air conditioning circulating through the vents in the house.

“What?” Sam finally asked.

“I went to Dove's universe and told them I plan to save Dean from Hell.”

“When do we leave?”

Castiel was so shocked he couldn't speak. When he finally was able, he spoke in a warning tone, co*cking his head. “Sam—”

Sam leaned forward in his seat. “That's my big brother, Cas. And do you honestly think I'd sit here and not find a way to pull his ass out of Hell?”

Sam flipped his laptop around. Castiel leaned forward then, squinting at the screen. “What's this?”

Sam leaned back and crossed his arms. “Information on Alistair. Information on Hell.”

Castiel reached forward, scrolling through the page, flipping through the tabs.

“Information on what sort of protection there is for humans in Hell. Information on Crowley.”

Castiel co*cked an eyebrow, peering over the screen at Sam.

“Information on demon deals. Really anything and everything I could find regarding Hell.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

Sam looked away, running a hand through his hair. “No, not really.”

Castiel hummed, turning the laptop back to face Sam. Castiel watched as Sam squirmed, looking uncomfortable. “I, uh, I couldn't sleep, anyway. I tried. But every time I drifted off I'd startle awake because I remembered Dean was dead.”

Castiel dropped his eyes.

“And you?”

“Nightmares,” Castiel said before giving a bitter chuckle. “If you can call them that even.”

“Oh?”

“I dreamed of…Happy times with Dean.”

Sam gave a sympathetic look, which Cas missed as he wasn't able to look at Sam.

“I think,” Castiel whispered, “I would have preferred nightmares.”

Some more silence. Castiel finally picked up his coffee and took a sip.

“So,” Sam finally broke the silence. “When are we going?”

Castiel shrugged. “They just took care of their apocalypse.”

Sam started. “That's great! I mean, that's wonderful, right? Is everyone okay? What about Lucifer and their zombie virus?”

Castiel waved a hand. “I felt bad—when I showed up they had literally just ended the battle. They were covered in blood and guts.”

Sam pulled a face.

“They apparently drained Belethia’s grace to put a stop to it. She's human now; irreversible it would seem.” Castiel glanced at Sam. “Raven was there.”

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Is she alright?!”

“Yes.”

Sam turned his head away. “f*ck… I was kind of wondering where she went. f*ck, I feel terrible, with everything that happened I sort of—I mean, I didn't forget her, it just wasn't on my radar—”

“Sam. It's alright. There was a lot happening yesterday on all fronts it would seem. Raven is fine though.”

“Where is she?”

“Not sure, honestly,” Castiel said with a small shrug. “I'll look for her in a while. She could be here, she could be there—I don't know.”

Sam slowly co*cked an eyebrow. Castiel took another sip of coffee and when he spoke, his voice broke.

“I miss Dean's coffee. I tried to make it like his, but it's not the same.”

The angel dissolved into tears. Sam came around the table and hugged him wordlessly.

Chapter 10

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Raven from time to time, would make her presence known. Lucifer from her world had disappeared, presumably had slinked off somewhere to go into hiding. There was no grand sacrifice for Sam to make, no way to reverse the shambles the Walkers had left their world in, so she helped out where she could. There wasn’t much for her to do in the other reality, and truthfully she came over just to check in with her uncle Castiel to make sure he was alright.

Castiel wasn't alright.

In the four days since Dean's death, Castiel became more and more despondent. He didn't even try to fight it, he just gave into it, until he finally couldn't deal with it. So, he fell back on an old crutch he hadn't used since he was struggling to survive in camp Chitaqua.

The gang bangers had been startled, to say the least. They were the type to shoot first, ask questions later. When Castiel had barely even flinched, merely looking down at his bullet-riddled body, one of them had outright fainted. Another one tried to shoot him again; tired of it, Castiel snapped his fingers and the man had exploded.

Another gang member passed out. Yet another one puked.

“Is this any way to treat a potential customer?” Castiel had sighed heavily with a roll of his eyes.

One of the gang members was crying. Everyone else still had their guns out and pointed at him. Castiel removed a huge wad of cash from his trench coat pocket. More than one of the men's eyes grew into orbs.

“I think this should cover it,” Castiel said, twirling the money between his fingers.

“Cover what?” one of them stammered out.

Castiel rolled his eyes heavily. “ The drugs! I want the drugs!”

“What drugs?” one of them asked lamely, so addled by fear he barely even knew what he was saying.

Castiel gave him a sidelong look. “What drugs… tsch. Any of them. All of them.”

Nobody moved.

So, Castiel took what he wanted. He went to each man, pressed two fingers to their foreheads and scryed their minds. The good ones he let live, the ones with a pure heart, who had just gotten caught up with the wrong crowd, so to speak.

There was only one man left standing after he scanned them all, shaking like a leaf on a tree. Castiel had smiled at him, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. He flinched violently at the touch.

“You should leave,” Castiel said serenely. “I see you have a wife and daughter at home. Go far away where this life can't track you down. Get an honest job. Go to Canada or something. Maybe even across the pond, as they say.”

“Who are you?” The man had silently tears streaming down his face. “ What are you?”

Castiel nodded, allowing his wings to show as massive shadows against the wall.

“An angel of the Lord.” Castiel put the wad of cash into his hand. “The money is clean. This isn't some sort of trick. Consider this a miracle, your second chance at life. You should go now.”

The man dropped his gun and sprinted out of the door. Castiel moved around the house until he found what he was looking for. Smiling and whistling to himself, he took what he needed and disappeared with the fluttering sound of wings.

~

Sam couldn't find Cas.

The hunter tried to ignore this fact.

He just lost his…husband…? Sam had tried to reason with himself. Partner. Whatever. Give the man some space.

But when morning turned into afternoon, Sam grew worried. No one had seen Cas, and the house was empty of his presence. Sam had even checked the unused attic.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Sam had placated with a smile to Charlie, who looked deeply concerned when she realized Castiel was just…gone.

As soon as Sam turned around though, his smile slipped away and he felt nauseated. He wasn't, in fact, sure it was nothing. In fact, every fiber of his being told Sam it probably wasn't fine. So, he let everyone in the house know he had to go run some errands and would return, and then drove Baby to the only place he assumed Castiel would be.

~

Sam was surprised when he opened the bunker door and music greeted his ears. Hesitating just a second, he removed the key from its lock and entered. Shutting the door behind himself, his hazel eyes swept over the room. It appeared to be empty. Instinctually, Sam removed his sidearm and held it out.

“Cas?”

No answer.

Sam spent the next fifteen minutes sweeping the bunker. Periodically he called out to Cas, but never got a reply. Sam also never found another soul in the building.

As he crept along, gun at the ready, he noticed the music became louder the closer he got to the basem*nt. With a deeply ingrained curiosity mixed in with his apprehension, Sam checked the basem*nt last. Sure enough, he found it devoid of life. At the same time though, he noticed the music was at a much higher volume, seeming to come from the room hidden behind false bookshelves. Still creeping along, he wasn't sure what he was going to find until he found it.

Sam lowered his gun. “Cas?”

The angel was laying on his back on the floor. The music was obnoxiously loud in here, so loud in fact it may as well have been a live concert. Sam didn't recognize the band, but he placed it as music from the early 00’s, some sort of alt rock band. Castiel seemed oblivious to Sam's entrance, fingers tapping against his stomach as he sang along.

“Cas?” Sam screamed again, but the angel still didn't hear him.

Pissed, Sam put the gun away. With lips pursed, he strode over to the sound system. Nostrils flared, he abruptly turned it off.

Castiel was still singing.

A name in your recollection

Down among a million same

Difficult not to feel a little bit

Disappointed and passed over

“Cas!”

Castiel flipped over onto his stomach, peering up at Sam. His hair was an absolute mess. Sam noticed immediately that the angel's pupils were blown-out so wide they barely even looked blue. Cas smiled slowly, mouth moving like a thick syrup.

“Oh. Hello, Sam. You found me.”

Sam paused, trying not to yell. “What're you doing?”

“co*ke.”

Sam blinked. “co*ke?”

Cas grinned. “With some other things.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Castiel was still talking.

“Did you know it took me an entire brick before I even started to feel anything?”

Sam was so bewildered he didn't even know how to respond to that. Finally he managed,

“Where the f*ck did you get a brick of co*ke from?!”

“Gang members. I think they were Latin Kings?”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

“No, that wasn't the name of the gang.”

Sam gawked.

“Also Jesus never existed. Well, not as the son of God, anyway.”

Sam's brain tried to keep up with the situation at hand and process the fact that his dead brother's boyfriend, who was an angel, was high off his gourd spouting off about Latin Kings and Jesus Christ. He took several deep breaths, sputtering as he tried to reign it all in.

“If you did a brick of co*ke—”

“Two.”

“Two?!” Sam took a deep breath. “If you did that much cocaine, how are you laying down? How are you not vibrating out of your skin?”

Castiel smiled wider, and he held up his index finger. “That would be the other things I mentioned.”

Sam pursed his lips. Castiel's freakishly large eyes darted off to the side. “There was some pot, and then some codeine, I think…” Cas looked back up at Sam. “Yes, that's right, codeine. In the form of a liquid.”

Sam clutched at his hair.

Castiel struggled to his feet. “I can see colors, Sam . I mean, I always can, especially since I'm an angel I can see colors humans can't, but like, when I move and there's light fixtures, the light sort of smears and it looks like a rainbow. Do you think that's the codeine?”

Sam dropped his arms to the side. “I have no idea Cas.”

“Have you ever tried co*ke or codeine?”

Sam clenched his jaw, speaking through clenched teeth. “No. Besides the occasional joint I don't do drugs, especially not hard drugs. And you shouldn't either!”

“Why? Why not?”

Sam threw his hands in the air. “It's really bad for your health! You could die. You could get addicted.”

“Please, I'm an angel.”

“So you're telling me because you're an angel, even though it's clearly having an effect on you, it's not going to harm you? That you can't get addicted?”

Castiel paused. “Honestly… I don't know. I don't think so…”

“Well how about you knock it off until you know so!”

Castiel laughed and outspread his arms. “ Everything is f*cked, Sam, so what does it matter?”

“Everything is not—!” Sam cut himself off and huffed out his breath. Crossing his arms, he tried to remain calm. “How'd you get the drugs?”

“I told you, the gang.”

“Did you pay for them?”

“Sort of. After they were done shooting me.”

“Shooting you?! Are you alright?”

Castiel gave him a condescending look. “Of course I'm alright.”

Sam huffed and threw a solid RBF. Then, “Great! That's just perfect. So now you're supporting the drug cartel—”

“I killed them.”

Sam stopped talking.

“Most of them, anyway. There was one good man out of all of them. He was born into it, his entire family was in it, it was all he knew. He wanted better for his wife and daughter though, deep down. So I gave him all my money and killed the rest.”

Sam was no longer angry. Instead he was just sad. Just incredibly sad.

“I think it's a win all around. I took illicit substances off the street, there is a group of seven men who are dead and can no longer hurt anyone, and I gave an out for a man who just wanted freedom.”

All at once Sam felt like crying.

Castiel shrugged. He looked at his feet, speaking quietly. “Plus I was able to forget about Dean for a while. I got to not feel much of anything for a while.”

Sam's chin wrinkled.

“So judge me all you want to, Sam. I think it's a win.”

Sam walked forward and drew the shorter man into his arms.

“Thanks, Sam,” Castiel squeaked, not even sound of mind enough to know he should be hugging Sam back, instead just sort of numbly existing in his vessel's body.

Sam kissed Castiel's temple and then wrapped an arm around him. “Let's get you home, buddy. C'mon.”

Chapter 11

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

There was a thick, sticky silence for most of the ride home. Castiel leaned heavily against the glass window of the passenger's seat, blown-out eyes staring at the stars swirling past. Sam focused on the road, occasionally glancing at Castiel to make sure he was still alive and breathing. When they had first climbed into the car, Castiel had handed over his cell phone.

“Might I listen to music?”

Sam plugged it in and Cas pulled up his music selection.

The first hour went like that, uncomfortable wispy feelings mixed up with music and Castiel singing softly along. Sam felt like he would crawl out of his skin, so he cleared his throat.

“You're good at singing.”

Castiel swiveled his head, eyes a little bit more blue. “What?”

Sam looked at him. “Your voice. You have a really good voice. Especially with this singer—it matches.”

“Well I am an angel, Sam. We are expected to sing.”

Sam shifted in his seat, eyes back on the road. “Right.” He licked his lips. “Who is this, anyway? Same band you were listening to in the bunker, right?”

Castiel hummed and nodded an affirmation to the question. “They're called A Perfect Circle. I like them a lot. They're quickly becoming one of my favorites.”

Sam chuckled.

“What?”

Sam glanced over. “Nothing. It just…It's kinda funny an angel likes modern music.”

Castiel squinted. “Why shouldn't I?”

Sam shrugged. “I d'no. I just—most people hear the word angel and we think Christmas hymns, trumpets, stuff like that.”

Castiel laughed sardonically. “Ah, yes, stereotypes.”

Sam was embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Castiel shifted in his seat, back now resting against the door with one leg kicked up onto the bench seat, getting more comfortable. He folded his hands in his lap, looking at Sam fully. “You seem like the type who would appreciate some music discourse. I've looked into this band out of curiosity.”

Sam smirked. “Alright. Lay it on me.”

“The vocalist is Maynard James Keenan. He was part of another band that seems to have been slightly more popular, Tool.”

“Oh!” Sam said. “That guy! I thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar.”

“So you heard of Tool?”

Sam shrugged. “They got a lot of airplay. And, unlike my brother, who had a very narrow and ignorant, almost pretentious, outlook toward music, I'm always down to listen to something new.”

Castiel licked his lips slowly at Sam mentioning Dean. He chose to sidestep that. “I enjoy A Perfect Circles lyrics over Tool’s. Tool’s seem more…Commercialized, for the sake of, well, being commercialized.”

Sam snickered.

“APC (Sam smirked at the use of the acronym) deals with feelings of abandonment, alienation, loss; being powerless in situations deemed helpless despite best efforts…They seem to have a subtle undercurrent of anti-establishment sentiments, and definitely anti-vanity and against the superficiality of societal norms.”

Sam shot Cas a glare. “I know Maynard is also largely anti-drug, Cas, after having lost a few people in his life to addictions.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He didn't respond though, swiveling his head and looking pointedly out of the windshield. After a point Castiel sighed heavily.

“Great. I've made things awkward again.”

“I'm just…” Sam said quietly. “Worried about you, is all.”

Castiel didn't reply to that. They sat for a span of minutes, not speaking, just listening to the song Sleeping Beauty. Castiel scratched the back of his neck. The angel shifted again, putting his leg down and sitting facing forward. Instead of looking out the windshield, his gaze hovered somewhere out of the passengers window.

Castiel whispered, barely above the music. “I don't think Dean would have liked A Perfect Circle very much.”

Sam paused. He wanted to be sensitive in his response. Licking his lips slowly, he looked at Cas.

“You know it's okay to like things independently of him, right? You can be your own person, have your own tastes?”

Castiel sighed quietly and literally curled up into himself, drawing his knees up with his arms wrapped around them. He made himself as small of a ball as he possibly could. Once more he leaned against the door, forehead pressed against the cool glass.

“I don't feel very well, Sam. I think I might sleep for a while.”

“Sure Cas,” Sam said softly. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Of course.”

Castiel closed his eyes, trying to dump his mind of everything Dean related so he could sleep.

~

When they made it to the farmhouse, Castiel had mostly sobered up. At the very least his eyes were now more blue than black. Even so, he didn’t feel like walking much, and Sam had to help him stumble into the house. Once he got him situated into his bed, Sam had quietly let Susan in on the situation.

“Can you keep an eye on him?” Sam asked.

Susan had laughed. “I mean, yeah, sure, but I can’t exactly stop a grown ass man who’s an angel from just snapping his fingers and disappearing to go do more cocaine.”

Sam had given her a look that was a little bit condescending, like a parent trying to explain something to a small child. “You know what I mean.”

Susan sighed. “Sure thing, Sam. Of course I will.”

Castiel had fallen asleep almost immediately and was dreaming.

“This is amazing,” Castiel said, looking at his father, looking at the father of everything. “You made all this?”

“I did,” Chuck had responded with a nod, looking proud, so proud. “It’s very, very important to me. A lot went into making this. A lot of sacrifices were made.”

Castiel was curious as to what God had meant by that, but being only a few hours old, and honestly feeling a little bit scared of God, he didn’t ask.

“You are very special, Castiel.”

The angel was surprised. “I am?”

Chuck nodded, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I am entrusting all of this to you.”

Castiel panicked. “What…do you mean?”

“I’ve made you to protect this.” Chuck gestured to the verdant green trees, the lush green grass, the sparkling clear waterfall. “You are a solider.”

“Soldier?”

“One who protects. One who will defend everything and everyone I cherish and hold dear to me.”

Castiel was confused, brow furrowed. “Protect them from what?”

Chuck had sighed heavily then. He turned, and Castiel followed his father into the forest. “There have been–mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“I am not infallible,” Chuck said, words tinted with regret. “I have made things that were good but turned out bad due to some–misunderstandings. There are things out of my control.”

“How? You created everything, I thought?”

Chuck had smiled at Cas then. “I will explain all that in due time. Right now though, son, all you need to understand is that there are forces out there that want nothing more than to destroy all this, tear it down, hurt me.”

Castiel was bewildered. Who would want to destroy this beauty? Who would want to hurt this generous man who called himself God? Why should anyone, or anything, feel animosity towards the very thing that had breathed life into them and given them the beauty that was existence?

Chuck stopped walking and turned to Castiel. Castiel stopped and looked at his father. Smiling, God rested both hands on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I need you to just be my good little soldier and protect all this. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Castiel had said without hesitation.

Chuck smiled in a way that hadn’t been exactly friendly. On the contrary, it was greedy, mischievous and cruel.

“Good.”

Chapter 12

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Castiel murmured in his sleep. The dream was coming to him in bits and pieces, scraps of memories thrown together like a hodge podge menagerie scrapwork submitted for an eighth grade art project.

“Who’re you?”

Charlie was curled up behind the counter of a convenience store. She looked up at Cas, her eyes wide in fear, face smudged in dirt, blood, and tears.

“My name is Castiel.”

Another time shifted into his dream.

“What sort of name is Castiel?” Dean asked incredulously from his hospital bed.

“It's a–”

The dream shifted back to the dirty convenience store, back to Charlie who was terrified out of her wits.

“I'm an angel.”

Another shift. This hadn't happened right. Castiel sat across from Chuck in a booth in a Chinese restaurant. The setting was all wrong and didn't make sense.

“You're an angel.”

“What's an angel?”

Dean was screaming at Cas.

“You lied to me!”

“I seem to remember someone telling me withholding information is the same as lying!”

The dream shifted. Castiel and Dean were naked in the dark, tangled up in intimacy.

“You're my angel,” Dean gasped and panted, a bead of sweat hovering on the tip of his nose as he propped himself up on his forearms, moving slowly, rocking gently over and over into Castiel like waves lapping at the shoreline. “I love you.”

Dean closed his eyes and kissed Castiel.

The dream shifted a final time, back to Dean, a different Dean, a different time. A time that didn't happen exactly how he dreamed it.

“He was going to rape her Cas! You're a f*cking angel! You should have done something! Why the f*ck didn't you do something, you selfish piece of—”

“Hey.”

Castiel gasped, his eyes snapping open. Raven sat at his side. Her hand was still outstretched from where she had moved a piece of sweat-soaked hair off his brow. Alarmed by her presence, Castiel sat up, the sheet falling off his bare chest. He licked his lips.

Raven looked deeply concerned. “I heard you.”

“What do you mean, heard me?” he asked.

“Your dreams. All the way in a different reality—I heard you.”

“f*ck.”

Raven watched as Castiel climbed out of the bed. He grabbed his discarded jeans and quickly slid them on, buckling the belt, his back to her.

“I didn't see them clearly,” Raven clarified quickly, trying to stop Castiel from becoming even angrier. “I just—I just felt how upset you were. I didn't want to pry—”

“Busy day today,” Castiel cut in, moving to the dresser and pulling out a brick red shirt. He hastily put it on over his head, back to Raven still. “I’d like for those who are helping me from your universe to come over today. I was thinking we should all live in the bunker together while we train.”

“Um…I didn't feel comfortable not—not checking in with you.” Raven bit her bottom lip.

Castiel grabbed deodorant he didn't need and put it on, just because it was something to do. “I wanted to begin training with the garrison. I was thinking you could join us.”

“Uncle Cas.”

“If you're still serious about accompanying me.”

“Cas.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder. “And your mother. Is your mother available? She should be there too—”

“Castiel!”

Cas spun around. “WHAT?!”

Silence.

Raven tisked and looked away, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Yeah I'll be there.”

“Good.”

Castiel slammed down the deodorant and swept out of the room.

Raven didn't follow, even though she felt the itch to follow him and ask him when he had taken up wearing Dean's clothes.

~

A week had passed after Dean had been dragged off by Hellhounds. Raven's group arrived in the map room of the bunker. The other Dean looked around and huffed.

“It really is an exact copy of our universe, isn’t it?” he said more to himself than anyone else.

Dove opted to ignore him.

Raven directed everyone to their own room, making sure to put Dean and Dove as far apart as she could.

“Uncle Cas will be here shortly,” Raven said.

Her group nodded and she vanished without explanation of where she was headed.

Dove looked around the bunker, wondering if the other Dean had set up anything like a work out room. She needed to run, getting antsy and anxious. Doing something strenuous was the only thing that helped her at the moment. So, she sought out the other Sam. Assuming he would have the same room as her Sam, she walked down the halls and stopped in front of his door. Before she could knock, Dean caught her eye.

“Sammy’s in the library.”

Dove didn’t respond, just walked away towards the library.

“Hey, Sam,” she greeted him.

Startled, he jumped. “Sorry, it’s going to take a minute to get used to other people here. Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a run?”

Sam smiled and closed his laptop. “I’ll always take up the offer to run with someone. You know, Dean hated running. He always—”

Dean had walked into the room. He took one look at Sam, noticing how the man had suddenly turned pale and his pupils dilated a few times, and paused, shoulders slowly falling.

“I’m sorry, man,” Dean said. “I’ll go make myself scarce.”

“No,” Sam said quietly. “No. It’s ok. I knew you were coming. It’s just, well—” he clicked the pen he held over and over, a nervous reaction. “I’ll be fine, Dean. Just, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” He hesitated for a moment and then quickly walked out of the room.

Dean looked at Dove and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for what Dean was going through when it came to Raven, Cas and Sam seeing him. She couldn’t imagine losing one of them and then seeing their double. Swallowing her pride, she decided to make sure Dean’s psyche was ok.

“Dean,” she started, but he quickly glared at her.

“Don’t,” he immediately cut her off. “I don’t want your pity. You’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with me, so I don’t need your fake pity.” He stormed away.

She sighed and sat down waiting for Sam's return.

---

Two miles away from the bunker, Dove finally broke the silence.

“How have you been doing, Sam?”

She was concerned about how he was acting as if it was a normal day. She was self-conscious in knowing he didn’t know her well, and they hadn't talked much the last time their lives crossed. Still, she cared about him and knew he was hurting.

Sam slowed to a jog, still not answering. When they finally came to a stop so he could drink some water, Dove pulled his earbuds from his ears and he looked down at her, water bottle still to his lips.

“I asked how you’ve been, Sam.”

He capped the bottle and wiped his brow. “Sorry, didn’t hear you. I’m good. I’m glad your world is back in order.” He blotted the back of his neck, wiping away sweat.

Dove could feel anxiety vibrating off of him like a drum.

“Hey,” Dove said and waited for him to look at her. “You doing alright?”

He shrugged. “I’m good.”

“Sam.”

He swallowed and looked down the path they were running on.

“Listen, I know you don’t know me well but I’m here. Ok? If you need to talk.”

He glanced at Dove from the corner of his eye, his legs visibly trembling.

“I’m ok, Dove.”

“But are you?”

When he looked at her, Dove could see the pain in his eyes. She stepped forward and hugged him. He stiffened, not expecting Dove to hug him, but then wrapped his arms around her. After a moment of them standing there, she felt his shoulders shaking. Dove didn’t want to bring attention to it, so she just hugged him harder, letting him release anything he needed to.

When he finally pulled away and wiped his face, he apologized.

“Don’t apologize for what you’re feeling.” Dove shook her head and then smirked. “I know a little bit about holding feelings in, too.”

He chuckled and blew out a breath.

“I guess I’m not OK,” he said quietly.

“Of course you’re not. Anyone who would actually be ok after what happened would be heartless.”

“We tried so hard. I searched so long and hard for a way to break it. I really did. And I failed.”

Dove grabbed his arm and made him look at her, narrowing her eyes just slightly so he knew she was being serious. “You did not fail. Nothing about any of this says failure on anyone. You can’t break a contract if the holder doesn’t want it to be broken, Sam. An entirely new deal would have had to be made and you know your brother would never have allowed that.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts. We may not have had the chance to become close, but I know my Sam and I know what he would have done. The lengths he would have gone, if it were our Dean. You tried your best, Sam.”

“But was my best enough?”

The tears in his eyes made Dove pull him into her arms once more.

“Anything you Winchesters do is always above and beyond. So, yes, Sam. It was enough.”

“I just—I can’t...” His arms wrapped around Dove once more and she could hear him crying. “He’s gone and I couldn’t stop it. And seeing your Dean walk in...” He took a deep breath, pulling back again, wiping his eyes. “It really threw me, ya know? I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, I was. I knew you were all coming. But—”

Dove placed her hand on his arm gently and he took a deep breath, calming himself. Once the tears were done and his breathing wasn’t as erratic, he swallowed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be. I’m here if you need to talk. Ok? Or even if you just want someone to run with, to sit quietly with, or even someone to throw around.”

She had grinned during the last statement and he half-laughed.

“I don’t think I’d do much, throwing around an angel.”

“I don’t think the Sam Winchester’s give themselves enough credit.” She winked and playfully hit his shoulder.

When they got back to the bunker, two hours later, Dean was sitting at one of the tables. Dove and Sam made their way down the metal stairs. He looked up from a book and noted Sam and Dove laughing. Dean moved to leave, not wanting to make Sam uncomfortable, but Sam clamped a hand down on his shoulder, patting softly as he walked by with a silent nod. Dean looked at Dove, questioning what happened for Sam to be able to see him, but Dove just smiled and kept walking to the room she'd be using for the foreseeable future.

Later in the evening, Cas showed up, having returned from a trip to Heaven and meeting with what was left of his garrison. Dove saw him walking through the halls as she was exiting the showers.

“Cas?”

He turned and Dove caught a glimpse of a hardened expression before he quickly smiled.

“Dove!” He walked to her and hugged her. “You guys made it.”

“Yeah. Everything good? You looked pissed just a second ago.”

Cas shrugged and waved her off. “Just focused. Listen, I need you to understand right now—”

He stopped talking and his eyes focused over her shoulder, widening just slightly. He took a deep breath and forced a smile.

“Hi, Dean.”

Dove looked over her shoulder and sighed.

“Let’s all go talk in the map room,” Cas said, wanting everyone together.

Dove's Castiel appeared and everyone went to the map room. Raven was already waiting with Sam. Everyone else quickly sat around the table as Cas stood and addressed the small gathering.

“Alright, I need you all to understand that when we start training, I’m not going to be the same fun-loving, carefree Cas you’ve come to know. This is serious, and I expect everyone to take it just as seriously. There will be no playing around, goofing off, and sure as sh*t no joking around between friends.”

Dean swallowed, nerves beginning to set in.

Cas noticed Dove watching him and stopped. Dove smiled to herself, remembering how her Castiel used to address his garrison. Cas narrowed his eyes at her.

“Have I lost you, Dove? Am I boring you? Because if you’re not going to be serious about this...If you can’t fall into line—”

Dove removed her smile and shook her head. “You do not have to worry about me not falling into line, Cas. I can promise you that. I know the role of a soldier and I can play it well. Just ask my Castiel.”

Castiel nodded, not speaking a word. Dean on the other hand, had his brow creased as he looked around, listening to everyone’s words.

“You’re really like angel soldiers, aren’t you?” he asked.

Dove rolled her eyes. Castiel nodded. Cas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I just need you to understand that even though we have history, bonds, and friendship—when we are training, we are not friends. We are not sharing a special bond. And we sure as sh*t are not there to have fun. As soon as we enter training mode, we are commander and soldier. As soon as you enter that warehouse, nothing else matters. You only listen to and focus on what I say to do. Can we all do that?”

Dove nodded. Castiel nodded. And Dean, well, he had a stupid grin on his face, but he also nodded.

“Don’t be stupid in there,” Cas said to Dean and only Dean. “Stupid gets people killed.”

Dean swallowed again, removing the smirk, and nodded.

Chapter 13

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas was pacing back and forth. Front line stood Dean, Raven, Dove, their Castiel, and Sam from Cas's own universe. Behind them stood forty angels. The other Sam had taken it upon himself to stay behind and watch over Belle. It was unspoken, but everyone was pretty sure that version of Sam was going to sit this one out.

“This is mainly for the newcomers,” Castiel declared loud enough to be heard by everyone.

They were in an abandoned warehouse forty miles away from the farmhouse. The angels had transported Sam easily.

“I expect my unit to still function more or less cohesively. I'm sure the time it will take you to knock the rust off will be short.”

Dean leaned over to his Castiel and whispered,

“Why are they wearing suits? And why is Cas dressed like that?”

Castiel ignored the question.

“This is not going to be light training,” Cas said, still addressing the entire room. “I am going to push you hard. Some of you are going to reach limits you never reached before. You will be expected to not only handle it, but to push past it. This is not a question, nor a request on my part—it's fact. There will be no sniveling. There will be no, ‘I can't’. You will not try your best, you will do your best, and you will obey me.”

“Dude,” Dean whispered, “I totally can see why my other version fell for him. I've never seen him be so commanding like this.”

Castiel ignored him, staring pointedly ahead.

“Now,” Cas continued in his confident voice, “I know the other Castiel will have no problems with this. Winters will most likely be using this as a refresher course, seeing as it's been thousands of years since she trained under Castiel's garrison. The Winchesters have extensive combat training—”

Dean was still whispering to his Castiel. “Are you like this when you train your garrison?”

Castiel threw a sharp glare at Dean before staring straight ahead once again.

Cas came to stop directly in front of Raven, peering down at her. “—and as for Raven, well. She is new. New does not mean fragile, and I expect no one to treat her differently—have I made myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” all forty angels and Castiel said together in one voice.

Dean leaned over again, eyes wide. “I swear I'm sporting a chub right now. Jeez, no wonder Dove fell for you if this is how you—”

Cas couldn't take it any more. He not only walked over to Dean quickly but got up in his face.

“Winchester! What the f*cking Hell is so damn important you've been speaking this entire time?”

Dean was so startled it was a rare instance where he didn't know what to do. He blinked.

“Uh. N-nothing.”

“Nothing sir,” Cas corrected.

Dean turned pink. “Nothing sir. Sorry sir.”

Cas smirked just for a second before schooling his face back into seriousness. “That's what I thought. Now—”

Cas went back to pacing. As soon as Cas’ back was turned, Dean turned to Dove and put his fist in his mouth dramatically and rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

Dove kicked him right in the shin. Viscously.

He yelped.

Castiel spun around and screamed, “Winchester! Leave!”

Dean was dumbfounded. “What?”

Cas strode over so fast Dean physically shrank away, afraid he was literally about to be smote. Once more, Castiel was in his face.

“If you were anybody else I would kill you right where you stand for your insubordination. Leave. Now!”

Dean swallowed and shifted to his right, bumping into his Castiel, his Castiel who didn't flinch at the jostle and who stared pointedly ahead. “Uh-er-sure-uh-sorry-I’ll just be—I'll just be—”

“OUT!”

Dean all but ran out of the room.

~

“He wasn't joking you know,” a female voice said to Dean hours later.

Dean had been sitting with his back leaning against the warehouse wall. He scrambled to his feet. One of the angels stood before him. He was momentarily surprised at the state she was in, bloodied with one of her sleeves ripped at the shoulder seam. Panting, she wiped at her bloodied lip with the back of her hand. Then she smiled and extended her other hand.

“Hannah.”

Dean shook her hand. “Dean.”

“I know,” she said with a smirk before releasing his hand.

“He wasn't joking about what?”

“Killing you. He's done it before.”

Dean co*cked an eyebrow.

“He only did it once. It was in the earliest days of the garrison. It was to assert dominance and make sure we took it seriously.”

“Killing someone to prove a point? No offense, but I'm having trouble believing it. Doesn't sound like Cas.”

Hannah squinted and smiled. “People change, Dean. Even angels.”

Chapter 14

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“GO!”

It was the next day. Dean took off running with the rest of the garrison. Castiel kept pace with him to keep him company.

“Isn't this kind of weird?” Dean said.

His Castiel humed questioningly.

“A bunch of angels running? ”

Castiel sighed. “I thought you would have learned yesterday to not question Cas.”

“I'm not,” Dean said immediately. “I'm genuinely trying to understand.”

“There's more to being an angel than magic, Dean.”

“Well yeah,” Dean tried to reason, starting to pant a little harder when Cas whistled, signaling everyone to run faster, “and I get that they're all using vessels right now.”

“Angels and demons actually prefer hand-to-hand combat.”

Cas whistled again, and the group slowed down again.

“Why?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“If everyone just used their abilities to kill each other, snapping their fingers, everyone would die. Everyone. ”

“So there wouldn't be a victor.”

“Precisely.”

Cas whistled twice in short, rapid succession. Everyone broke into their fastest sprint. He narrowed his eyes, looking at everyone. His angelic abilities made assessments easy. He read all of their biometric readouts; heart rate, oxygen levels, muscular functions, respiratory efficiency. As he did, he kept a running checklist in his mind so he could address any issues that cropped up to hone everyone to their greatest abilities. Occasionally he would call for someone to step out of line and stretch a particular muscle before it cramped.

By the end of the first training unit, Castiel was pleased overall. There had been some surprises—Sam kept up surprisingly well, and Cas was silently proud the only human in the lot could hold his own. Raven, however, was struggling, and made a note to adjust her training to focus heavily on endurance techniques. There was a smattering of angels who also seemed to be struggling, and he had quickly assessed these as angels who had been shifted to clerical jobs after the garrison had been disbanded. Frowning, Cas considered the fact he might end up having to break the group into two, or create a sub-unit for those who needed to be brought up to speed (literally).

From there was, to Dean's shock, a brief cool-down period which seamlessly moved into a yoga unit.

“You're kidding me,” Dean muttered as everyone took up positions.

Dove had overheard him and given him an unfriendly grin. “Not manly enough for you?”

Dean glared after her as she flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and walked away. “I'll show you how manly yoga can be…”

“You okay there?” Sam asked Dean, eyebrow quirked as he took a hungry gulp from his water bottle.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled, grabbing his leg by the ankle and stretching it backwards. “I'm just going to yoga the sh*t out of Dove.”

Sam paused, furrowing his brow. “What does that even mean?”

Dean didn't reply, glaring daggers into Dove's back.

“O…kay. Sure. Uh, have fun with that.” Sam patted Dean's shoulder and then walked away.

After yoga was an aerial course. Cas was surprised when, finally, he found Sam's weakness. After the course of ropes, trapeze bars, gymnast rings and hanging planks was done, Cas called Sam over for a quick sidebar.

“You've never done that before, have you?”

Sam looked embarrassed. “No. Closest thing was climbing a vertical rope for gym class back in the day.”

Cas frowned deeply. “I'll have to create specialized training for you. Yesterday and today you have proven nothing but efficient; your poor display is surprising.”

“Yeah, well, you try being six-foot four with gangly limbs suspended thirty feet in the air without a safety net and try being graceful and quick!"

Cas slowly raised an eyebrow.

Sam flushed, thinking about how Cas had threatened to kill Dean yesterday. “Uh. Sorry sir.”

Cas gave a slow, wry smile. “Better.”

The last unit was hand-to-hand combat.

“The only time you are to pull back is right before you land a death blow,” Cas commanded.

That surprised Dean. He looked at Sam. “He serious?”

Sam, who was sporting a bruise on his cheek from the previous day, shrugged. “That’s how it was yesterday.”

Cas separated everyone into pairs. Once satisfied, he whistled loudly, and everyone started fighting. Cas walked around the room, slowly, never speaking, only observing. At one point he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, lost in thought.

~

“I heard about yesterday,” God had told Castiel.

Cas tilted his head. “What about yesterday?”

“How you killed Tabbris.”

Castiel’s eyes fell off to the side for just a second before lifting back to God. “Oh. That.”

“You needn’t feel ashamed,” God said kindly. “I trust you, and I trust your judgment.”

Cas found himself unable to look at his father, and his eyes dropped down.

“You’re not in trouble with me, Castiel.”

Cas lifted his blue eyes. God smiled at him.

“I am curious as to the reasoning. In your own words.”

“He mocked me,” Castiel snarled out.

God paused. Crossing his arms across his chest, he spoke patiently. “And you feel that mockery warrants death?”

“I am their leader, they are my subordinate.”

God didn’t reply like Cas had expected him to. So he continued.

“If I am to lead them into battle they need to respect me.” Cas shook his head then, brow furrowing. “It’s not only about respect though. If I am in charge of their lives, which I will be, they have entrusted their safety to me. They need to know that, feel that, understand that.”

“Huh,” God said.

“Huh?” Cas repeated nervously.

God waved his hand. “Continue.”

“I feel it’s imperative they understand that I hold them accountable, that I am in charge of their life or death.”

“Respect through fear,” God murmured, stroking his chin.

“Trust through fear,” Cas corrected.

For a long moment God didn’t speak, merely contemplated what his angel had said. As the moments dragged on, Cas grew uneasy, and then slowly began to outright fear he would be sent away for reprogramming. Instead, God asked an unexpected question.

“If we were to go back in time to the same situation, would you kill Tabbris again?”

“Absolutely,” Cas said without hesitation.

“And if the situation presented itself moving forward with another angel?”

Cas, to his surprise, found himself hesitating.

Would he? Could…he?

“I have a task for you, an assignment I think you will be perfect for.” God smiled then and uncrossed his arms. Cas didn’t like the dark smirk that settled over his father’s face. “An assignment I know you’ll be perfect for.”

Cas broke out of the memory when he heard Dean scream. He had been paired with Dove, purposely so. Cas watched as Dove had Dean by the throat, lifted him over her head, and then body-slammed him into the ground hard enough to have broken his back.

“STOP!” he commanded, and everyone froze.

He quickly rushed into the middle of the crowd. Dove held her angel blade above her head, eyes so wide the whites showed, other hand pinning Dean down by his throat. She was ready to stab him in the head. Cas grabbed the blade out of her hand and tossed it away, it clattering loudly. Then he yanked her back, forcing her to let go of Dean. Dean scrambled onto his backside, one hand grasping at his throat, eyes wide.

He looked outright betrayed and hurt.

“We’re done for today,” Cas said to everyone. “Winters, Winchester–you’re staying behind with me.”

Dove panted, bloodied. When she caught the look on Dean’s face she looked away, turning red with shame. As everyone else filed out of the warehouse quickly, Cas looked back at Dean.

“Are you alright?” he asked Dean softly.

Dean glared at Dove. Cas knew this Dean was the same as his, thus he recognized Dean’s defensive walls shoot up, enveloping him to save himself further emotional pain.

“Fine,” Dean growled.

Cas let go of Dove’s wrist and frowned.

He evidently had a problem on his hands.

Chapter 15

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“What was that?”

Cas didn’t start questioning the pair until the last angel had left the warehouse and had given them a few minutes to collect themselves and drink some water.

“What was what?” Dean answered immediately, while Dove said simultaneously, “Training.”

Cas had given them a long, sidelong look. When neither decided to divulge further, he prodded.

“That was not simply training,” he said in a low voice, slowly.

Dean shifted on his feet and crossed his arms, staring at Cas with a look that rivaled a challenge. Dove, however, schooled her face into cool indifference. Cas rolled his tongue along his bottom lip, eyeing the pair. There was…something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Are either of you going to make me regret my decision to seek you out for help?” he asked, venom lacing his voice.

“Absolutely not,” Dean said.

Cas looked at Dove.

“No problems here,” Dove replied.

Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Really? Then why did it look like you weren’t going to hold back from literally stabbing Dean in the head?”

Dove crossed her arms then and shrugged, closing her eyes. “He’s an angel. He’d be fine.”

“I’d be fine?!” Dean balked, immediately furious. “Sweetie, I may be an angel but I’m pretty sure an angel blade to the head would kill me!”

Dove turned and pointed at him. “Do not call me sweetie!”

“Fine,” Dean snarled at her. “ Babe. Sugar. Snookie-wookie-umpkins.”

Cas looked between the pair, bewildered.

“Since you’re all about nicknames suddenly, how about I call you whor* from now on, since that’s what you are!” Dove said.

Panicked now, Cas slotted himself between them. “Okay…I don’t know what’s happening, but if this is how it’s going to be, you two can’t work together.”

“Good,” Dove said, taking a step forward and glaring over Castiel’s shoulder at Dean.

“Fine,” Dean spat, also taking a step forward and glaring at Dove over the same shoulder.

For a tense few moments the trio stood there, Dean and Dove making an uncomfortable sandwich out of Cas. They were physically touching Cas at either side. Swallowing thickly, Cas wedged himself out between the pair.

“Okay,” he said awkwardly. “Uh. Good talk then.”

Dean immediately broke away and stalked to the door. Dove and Cas watched him storm away. It wasn’t until the warehouse door was slammed shut did Dove heave a sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose, one hand on her hip. Cas watched her quietly for a moment.

“What happened when you got out of the Empty?” Cas asked softly.

Dove threw her hands into the air. “What didn't happen, Cas? I got dumped into an apocalypse where everyone was so desperate most people turned into savages, acting like they never were civilized humans in the first place, fighting over resources including people; I saved a woman from getting raped; found a good group of people but got wrapped up in another group who was led by a lunatic named Negan who liked smashing people’s heads in with a bat he named Lucille that he had wrapped up in barbed wire, who ended up being my savior when I was sexually assaulted–”

Cas’ lips parted, stunned.

“–was finally reunited with Dean, Castiel, and Sam, only to find out Dean was sleeping with some floozy named Shannon!”

Cas was stunned and didn’t know what to say. So, he asked a stupid question. “Are you alright?”

Dove threw her hands into the air and laughed. “Yeah Cas, I’m great ! I get sucked into The Empty for just a few months and when I’m spit back out I’m treated like a piece of meat, and I find out how utterly disposable and forgettable I am by the people I was stupid enough to allow myself to love!”

Dove burst into tears and Cas drew her into his arms immediately. “You are so loved. You are not forgettable! Would we have tried everything in our power to get you out if you were?”

Dove pulled away and wiped off her tears angrily. “Yeah well what about Dean?”

“Dean–” Cas hesitated. “I can only speak for my own Dean and what I knew of him, but he was trying to cope, Dove.”

“His coping mechanism is burying himself balls deep into someone else?!”

Cas winced. “I’m not saying it’s right. I’m not even necessarily saying what he did was forgivable–”

“Yeah,” she laughed bitterly, “you’d be insane if you thought it were.”

Cas ignored the interruption. “–but the fact that he tried to forget you so quickly means you were unforgettable to him.”

Dove crossed her arms and looked away. Even so, Cas saw the tiniest thawing of the anger on her face. As such, he pounced on it.

“He became an angel for you.”

Dove snapped her head back to glare at Cas. “I didn’t ask him to do that!”

“But he did!” Cas took her by both shoulders. “He did, and that’s the point, Dove.”

Dove glared. “Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep with Negan, so. There’s that.”

Cas raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted to. Almost did.” She looked up at Cas fiercely, brow pulled together. “But. I. Didn’t. Huge difference there.”

Cas sighed heavily. When Dove said nothing more, his shoulders slumped. “I am so sorry. For everything that happened. Can I…do…anything? Anything at all.”

Dove looked at her feet. “No. I’m alright. Thanks.” She paused. “Er, sorry I got so angry. It’s not at you.”

“I know.”

Dove sniffed. When she sniffed again, Cas pulled her into his arms and didn’t let go until she was done crying.

~

Cas shouldn’t have been surprised when he pushed open the door, allowing Dove to go first, that Dean was standing there, waiting. He pushed off the wall and uncrossed his arms. Dove took one look at him and walked away, fast.

“Hey,” Dean said, quickly rushing after Dove as Cas emerged from the building.

Cas sighed and quietly shut the door.

“Hey. Dove. Dove. Dove! Winters!”

Dove spun around when Dean grabbed her arm and sucker-punched him in the jaw. Before he could react, she disappeared with a flutter of wings.

“Hey!” Dean screamed at the sky.

Cas doubted had anyone been present they would have been able to see Dean unfurl his wings. But he did, being a fellow angel. So when Dean pushed off the ground and hovered, struggling to hover more than a few feet, Cas rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean’s ankle, and yanked him down.

“Hey!” Dean snapped, sizing up Cas incredulously.

“Flying lessons not going well?” Cas asked him flatly.

Dean exploded into a blush and crossed his arms across his chest. Even so, he stuck his nose into the air. “It’s going fine.”

Cas snorted. When Dean started to walk away, Cas jumped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Dean, wait.”

“What?” Dean snapped, turning on Cas. “You gonna point out how badly I f*cked things up with Dove?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Yeah well don’t. I got enough of that from my own damn Castiel.”

Cas sighed and let Dean walk away. When he was far away, he called,

“You are going to fix it though, yes?”

“Working on it,” Dean called without turning around.

“You might want to try harder.”

Dean raised his middle finger. Then he switched it to a thumbs up. Cas chuckled and shook his head.

~

Charlie opened the door to her bedroom. Her hair was awry, and she wore an oversized shirt and nothing else. Confused, with her eyes barely even open, she held her head.

“Cas?”

“I’m very sorry for the intrusion,” Cas said immediately. He glanced over Charlie’s shoulder before looking back at his friend. “Might Suse be here? I need her. Well, I think I need her. I don’t–I don’t know what else to do–”

“Here,” Susan cut him off and appeared into sight behind Charlie, wrapping a robe around herself tightly. Tired as she looked, she also looked deeply concerned. As she squeezed past Charlie, she kissed her cheek, muttering quickly, “Go back to bed, sweetness. I’ll be back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cas said as he took a step backward so Susan could walk out into the hallway. “I don’t mean to bother you. I know it’s late–”

Susan tucked his arm within her own, leading him towards the stairs. “C’mon, let's go downstairs, alright?”

“Thank you, Susan,” Cas said, the relief so thick in his voice it sounded almost physically tangible.

They walked downstairs arm in arm. As Susan went to sit in the living room, Cas said,

“I think I could use some calming tea.”

“Jesus, Cas, you’re trembling. Sure,” Susan said with a quick course correction. “You sit on the couch, and I’ll make some tea.”

A few minutes later Susan was curled up in the armchair while Cas sat across from her on the couch, steaming mug in hand, blowing on his chamomile tea.

“What’s going on?” Susan asked, suppressing a yawn. “It’s damn near two in the morning.”

His eyes widened. “I’m very sorry, Susan, I know it’s late. I’m sorry, it was selfish of me to–”

“Cas, knock it off,” she snarled. “I’m too tired for you apologizing profusely for sh*t you don’t need to. I’m your friend , Castiel.” Then, softer, “So…what’s up?”

“Do you have anything to help me sleep?” he blurted out. “I can’t sleep.”

Susan frowned deeply. “Are you asking me that as a friend or as a doctor?”

“Both. I guess.”

“Well, I’m gonna answer you as both then,” she replied seriously. “Cas. You cannot just rely on substances to help make yourself comfortable. It’s a really destructive coping mechanism.”

“You don’t understand,” Cas said desperately, putting his mug on the coffee table. He began to bounce his leg up and down. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?” she asked clinically, using her doctor voice.

Castiel bit back the urge to be sarcastic. “Because every time I do, all I see is him.”

“Dean?”

Cas nodded. “And I just want it to stop. I just want peace, Suse. Please.”

The woman sighed sadly. Instead of giving into his desire, she moved over to the couch and sat down. Cas looked at her in confusion. So, she clasped his hands in her and smiled sweetly.

“You’re…not…used to losing people, are you?”

Cas shook his head, eyes wide.

Susan took a deep breath. “I’m gonna be blunt Cas–it hurts. It sucks.” She chuckled and shook her head. “It sucks so f*cking much. And it’s going to be uncomfortable for a bit, but with time, it will become bearable.”

His eyes widened further. “Not better?”

“A lot of people say it gets better with time. And I think for some people that’s probably true. But for most people? It just seems…a little less hopeless.”

“When?” he asked desperately. “When does it stop feeling so awful?”

Susan sighed sadly. “It varies from person to person.”

“How?” Cas asked then, his voice cracking. “How do people do it? How do people live like this?”

The doctor shrugged. “What’s the alternative?”

The angel blinked.

“Really–what’s the alternative?”

When Cas didn’t reply, she gently tugged on his shoulders, getting him to lay down. Once he did, she situated herself so his head was in her lap. Without asking permission, she immediately started running her fingers through his hair, gently raking her nails along his scalp.

“What’re you–what’re you doing?”

“Helping you go to sleep. Close your eyes, Cas.”

He did. And, sure enough, his breath evened out and he fell to sleep.

~

“Listen to me very carefully now Castiel. Are you listening?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. There are going to be red markings on the doorposts of some homes. They are the exception, the ones who have listened to me and who have chosen to obey. You are not to disturb those abodes; you are to pass over them entirely. I have promised them this. Do you understand this, Castiel?”

“I do, my Lord.”

“Now. Repeat back to me what you will aid me with.”

“I am to go to Egypt and kill the firstborn of every household, except the ones that have red markings on their doorposts.”

“And if the firstborn are infants?”

“It does not matter. I must do what you have instructed me, oh Lord.”

“Excellent. And it shall be done.”

Chapter 16

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“Kiai!”

“ Kiai !”

“Kiai!”

“ Kiai !”

“Good.”

Cas took on a relaxed stance, and everyone followed suit. The morning had been spent teaching everyone basic karate.

Cas had worked out regimens now, having separated everyone into smaller units. Those who needed endurance training were grouped, as were those who needed overall training, and another group for flexibility and strength training. Sam had been put largely on his own, and spent most of his days up in the air.

“Please don't think I'm singling you out,” Cas had hold him privately in the safe space of the farmhouse before he executed his decision.

“I mean, you are,” Sam said with a smirk. “That's literally what you're doing.”

Cas had looked pained. “Yes, but it's good for you. It's not my intention to make you feel self-conscious of your shortcoming, or bad about yourself, or—”

Sam had outright laughed. “You're sweet, Cas, but I have thicker skin than that. We're good, and I trust you explicitly in my training.”

Cas had swelled with pride.

“The end goal is to spring my brother outta Hell, right? My pride can take a hit if it means I'll be at peak performance.”

Sam's training was further helped along with the aid of Raven. Thanks to her years of training back home under the watchful eye of her father, she knew most everything Cas threw at her. As such, Cas allowed Raven to help Sam out.

“Heya Sam!” She had greeted chipperly that first day, nearly knocking him out of the ropes because he had been so startled. She had grabbed him immediately, ensuring he wouldn't fall.

“Sorry,” she had told him, blushing. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Sam said, and seeing her blush made his own face feel hot. He chalked it off to nearly falling to his death, and hoped Raven attributed his reaction to that as well.

When she held onto his arm longer than was warranted, he cleared his throat and looked pointedly at her hand. She let him go immediately and laughed.

“So, uh, Cas said I can help you. Want my help?”

Sam smiled softly. “I'd love that, actually. Gets kinda lonely up here.”

Cas had made it a point to keep Dean and Dove separated as much as possible. He didn't want to feed into any drama, so he didn't feel comfortable forcing a conversation with them. They were not only two adults, but they were also two celestial beings (a fact that Castiel still had a hard time wrapping his head around. It was just so… weird , looking at Dean and seeing the undulating, fiery aura of a celestial being)—it was up to them to work through their differences.

The problem he was having was, they weren't working through anything. The back wall was cracked from where Dean had let loose and flung Dove into it from a good thirty yards away, having spun her like a shot put. Before Cas could intervene, Dove had flown at him at breakneck speeds, grabbed him, and threw him across the warehouse; he was lucky enough to have not hit the wall. The floor wasn't lucky, and the area he had landed on had to be roped off due to the cracked concrete.

Castiel always laid out the itinerary for the day first thing so everything could move mercurially, making the most efficient use of time possible. This included pairings for the day's activities. Cas had been occasionally training with them since Sam doing high ropes courses made the group uneven. After the karate basics, he had paired himself with Dove.

Things had been going swimmingly. She was an even match for him. When she started using more advanced moves than what he expected, he stopped holding back. They went blow for blow. It wasn’t until Castiel saw an unexpected opening did he grab her arm and twist it back. In doing so, her sleeve became hitched up. As soon as his blue eyes fell to her skin, he let go of her and stumbled back.

Dove had froze, eyes wide. As soon as she was released she yanked her sleeve back down. They stared at one another for a second, where time seemed to freeze. Then, Cas whistled loudly.

“Take ten,” Cas shouted out. “Everyone out of the building.” Blue eyes boring into green, he said quietly, “Not you, Dove.”

Though Dean and the other Castiel threw them questioning looks, they did as they were told. Sam was the last one out on account of him having to climb down, and closed the door to the warehouse quietly.

“What happened?” Cas asked without pause.

“Nothing,” Dove said.

Cas glared. “Dove.”

Dove wrapped her arms around her midsection and looked away. “I said it’s nothing, Cas.”

“Dammit, Dove!” Cas shouted, and honestly it surprised her. She looked at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t know what is going on with you since you came back but–”

Dove bit her bottom lip and looked guilty. Cas stopped shouting; in fact, he spoke quietly, pained.

“Please don’t lie to me, Dove. I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

“I thought we had become like brother and sister.”

“ We are .”

“Then tell me where those scars came from.”

Dove sighed and sat down, crossed legged. Cas sat down as well. Dove pushed up both her sleeves to her elbows; her forearms were littered in angry pink stripes, wounds healing. Cas suppressed a gasp at the sight, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate that kind of reaction.

“There were these freaks called Whisperers,” Dove explained quietly. “They, uh. They liked to hide in with the zombies. They tried to recruit people into their fold by force, beat them into submission. I was uh…I was tied to a tree for a few days until I was rescued.”

Cas reached out and trailed his finger gingerly across the marks. “Why don’t you heal them?”

Dove looked at him, her eyes hard as jade. “It’s a good reminder to myself of a time when I was weak. I’m never going to allow myself to be weak again.”

Cas was taken aback. Even so, he couldn’t help but voice his concern. “Do they hurt still? They look relatively fresh.”

Dove laughed mirthlessly. “You should see my back.”

Cas went pale. Dove looked away again.

“Does your Castiel and Dean know?”

Dove threw him a glare. “No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Cas held up both hands. Dove picked at a rip in the knee of her jeans. Cas found his heart aching for Dove.

“Why…”

Dove looked at him again. “Why what?”

He tilted his head. “Why didn’t you write to me after a point? In the journal? These things…you didn’t have to carry them alone, Dove. I know you felt alone, but you weren’t.”

Dove gave a one shoulder shrug and looked back to the thread on her knee. “I knew you were on borrowed time with your Dean. I wasn’t gonna pull you away from that.”

“Dove,” Cas chided harshly.

Dove looked at him and glared. “What? I lived, didn’t I?”

“You lived through a sexual assault—and evidently getting kidnapped and tortured—and you're keeping literal tally marks on your body as a reminder of your weaknesses when in reality, you weren’t weak, Dove. You endured! You should have written me.”

Dove got to her feet and wiped off her backside. Once done, she yanked her sleeves back down. “Castiel, look, I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but–”

“Hey–”

“Just don’t, Cas, alright? Don’t.”

“Dove,” Cas said strictly, almost reaching out to touch her but thinking better of it. He was relieved when she didn’t walk away. “Just because things happened to you does not mean you were weak. You cannot hold yourself accountable for pain inflicted on you by others.”

“Right, Cas,” Dove said, smiling. She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and started walking backwards. “I’m going to get everyone back in here to start training again, ok?”

Cas’ shoulders slumped. “Dove.”

“C’mon. We’ve already cut into too much training time. It’s fine, Cas.”

“But–”

“I’m fine, Cas.”

Not allowing Cas to reply, she turned around and jogged over to the door. Cas frowned, watching Dove pop open the door and tell everyone to come back in cheerfully with a smile. As people filed in, Cas tried not to think about all the times he had been weak.

If he held onto his weaknesses like Dove had, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body left unscarred.

~

Castiel had gone to bed with a heavy heart that evening, and his dreams were even heavier.

“Hello, Castiel.”

“Hello, Mahanaim.”

“Come to tell me bedtime stories?”

Castiel sat down on the stool adjacent to the prisoner behind bars. He sat with his back straight as a board, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What tales shall you weave me this fine evening?” the angel Mahanaim continued cheekily, even though he should have had no room for such joviality, seeing as he was in prison. “Tales of The Darkness? Or perhaps you have come to spin me stories bathed in truth. Perhaps a tale of your brother Lucifer? Or perhaps a chronicle of a more contemporary fashion, like what happened in Egypt tonight?”

Castiel had refused to be baited. Even so, Mahanaim noticed how his eyes had narrowed ever so slightly, and he pounced. Eagerly he walked forward and pressed her face against the bars, gripping the cold, sigil-laden wrought iron.

“Yes, Castiel, word of your conquests have spread already.”

“Watch your tongue, heathen. You will not speak to me in such a manner. And it was not a conquest.”

“Wasn’t it, though? The very definition is to control a place by military force.”

Castiel frowned deeply. “I do not control Egypt, Mahanaim. I was doing God’s work.”

Mahanaim laughed, a slightly unhinged tilt to it. “Is that how you are able to live with yourself, Castiel? Wash yourself of the literal blood on your hands because someone told you to?”

“I did not come here to listen to this garbage,” Castiel said, lumbering to his feet. “This was a mistake.”

“What’s wrong, Castiel?” Mahanaim called after him as Castiel turned slowly and began to make his way down the long fall. “Have I hit a nerve? Have a breathed a truth you don’t want to admit to?”

Castiel didn’t answer.

“You come here, talking about how you are so high and mighty,” Mahanaim called out then, his voice growing wilder, higher-pitched, desperate. He pressed further against his cell, trying to not lose sight of his captor. “Yet how many innocents did you murder today? How many people did you kill just for existing?”

Castiel ignored him. It was Castiel’s job to do as his father said, not to question why his father had him do what he made him do. He was literally created to fulfill that duty. Why would he question? Why should he question?

“Did you enjoy murdering those villagers tonight?” the angel hysterically shrieked after Castiel, mad from years of solitary confinement. “Will their shrieks be the lullaby to your dreams tonight? Castiel? Castiel!” Deranged laughter. “How is it that the only thing I did was question, and yet you killed babies tonight, but I’m the one behind bars? Innocent babies who couldn’t even comprehend how to disobey God’s word even if they wanted t–”

Castiel suddenly appeared in front of Mahanaim. Mahanaim gasped and stumbled backwards, landing on his rear. Castiel gripped the iron bars in both hands, his eyes glowing blue.

“Shut. Up. Mahanaim. One more word and it will be your last.”

Mahanaim didn’t move. With a final glare, Castiel turned once more and strode angrily down the hallway. Mahanaim started to laugh. By the time Castiel walked up the stairs and out the jail door, Mahanaims' out of control sobbing laughter was the only thing wishing him goodbye.

Chapter 17

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Even though Sam was sore from training, that wasn’t an excuse in his mind to slack. So, like every other morning in which he was a free man living topside, he got up early to jog. Changing out of his pajamas into work-out clothes, he did some quick stretches, slammed back a pre-made protein shake, some water, and then made his way to the front of the bunker. When Sam came around the corner he stopped abruptly, looking at his brother's double in front of him. Dean sat at the table, tying up his shoes.

Dean felt Sam coming before he even appeared. He was becoming more in tune with his new powers the more time he spent around other angels. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with being around other Celestial beings or if it had to do with him observing how the others worked and moved around. Regardless, it was neat he knew Sam was coming without even seeing or hearing him.

Dean straightened up, placing his foot on the floor, and grinned.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean immediately winced. “Sorry. Habit.”

Sam pursed his lips and forced a smile. He gestured to the running shoes and sweatpants Dean was wearing. “It’s alright. What’re you doing?”

“Going for a jog. Wanna come?” Dean asked, hoping it might help ease Sam into having him around.

Sam’s eyes bulged. “You’re what?” He glanced around the room. “Is this some kind of signal? Is everything ok? Are we under attack?”

Dean crossed his arms. “Har har. Funny man.” He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips. “I figured it was time to start taking things into my own hands. I know Cas is pushing us to what he believes is our best, but what if I could be better? What if a few extra runs or workouts could help me move faster? Smoother? Quieter?” He watched as Sam’s expression changed multiple times and then finished with, “I just want to do everything I possibly can to help get your brother back.”

Sam’s eyes softened. “Sure, Dean. I’ll run with you.”

Sam smiled, and the two headed up the stairs and out the door together.

As they jogged, warming up to run, Dean waited for Sam to speak first. He didn’t want to make Sam feel uncomfortable in any way. It wasn’t long until Sam spoke up.

“I wanted to thank you for coming to our aid,” Sam said with a curt nod, eyes focused directly ahead.

Dean slid his eyes over for a second to peer at the man that looked like his own brother. Then he flicked them front again. “Of course.”

They jogged another half of a block before Sam spoke. “So, uh, you’re an angel now, huh?”

That made Dean grin. “Yup.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s pretty damn cool,” Dean replied and he grinned, happy to have someone to talk to about it. “I knew it’d be awesome, I just didn’t think it’d be this awesome.”

Sam snorted in amusem*nt. “Cas was telling me a while ago that apparently at the same time, my Dean turned himself into a vampire.”

Dean chuckled at that. “Yeah–Dove was ready to murder him.”

Sam was happy he had found an out from speaking about his Dean. “So, I gotta ask, man, speaking of Dove…”

“Oh great, here we go.”

Sam threw a sidelong RBF. “What do you mean, here we go?”

“Let me guess,” Dean said, “you noticed how Dove and I are off, and you wanna know why, and how to fix it, right?”

“Uh. Well, yeah, actually.”

Dean growled in annoyance. “Well like I keep tellin’ everyone else, I don’t know what’s wrong . It’s like–it’s like ever since she got back from The Empty she’s different!”

Sam paused. “Well, I’m sure that wasn’t the easiest thing for her to go through.”

“Well yeah, I’m sure, but she doesn't have to take it out on me!” Dean snapped.

Sam winced.

“C’mon,” Dean said gruffly, suddenly surging forward. “Let’s run.”

Three blocks of running Sam had to slow down a little. Once he wasn’t panting so hard he couldn’t speak, Sam continued the conversation.

“So…I’m guessing you and Dove aren’t an item, then?”

“Great job, Einstein.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it. I was just asking.”

Dean sighed then and started to slow down. “I’m sorry.”

Sam didn’t slow down. Still at pace with him for a second, Dean reached out and tapped Sam’s elbow. Sam looked at him, and Dean stopped running and came to a stop. Sam did likewise.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Dean panted, hands on his hips. “For everything.”

Sam tilted his head slightly. “It’s okay.”

Dean cast him an incredulous look. “No man, it’s not.” Dean shook his head. “I know it’s really f*cking weird for me to be around, and I know–”

“Dean, don’t.”

“I gotta, alright?” Dean snapped. “I gotta because you might not be mine, but you’re Sammy, alright?”

Sam, panting, looked like he was struggling to remain calm.

“You’re Sammy, and I can’t stand thinkin’ about you going through what you are, so I’m here, alright?”

Sam swallowed thickly and gave a curt nod.

Dean put a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and looked at him evenly. “I’m serious.”

A flutter of a smile passed Sam’s lips. “I know.”

“Anything you want, anything you need–”

Sam nodded and briefly squeezed Dean’s hand. “I know. Thanks.”

Dean nodded. Then he fanned himself. “Okay, you know what? f*ck what I said. This running thing is the worst. Can we go back now?”

Sam laughed.

~

Cas decided Dean needed to train against him. He needed to be sure Dean was up to par, whether he used his angel grace during fighting or not. Dean was ok with that. He wanted to be as ready as he could be. He knew Hell wasn’t a vacation, hell, it wasn’t even a pitstop. Hell was exactly what it’s named—Hell. He knew if any of them were to be captured, torture would be their best treatment there.

So, he focused and trained hard. That was, until Cas seemed to be out of it.

“Have I become your prophet, Castiel?”

Cas sat on his stool, arms crossed. This time he leaned his back against the opposite wall, glowering at the captive, head tilted down.

When Castiel didn't say anything, Mahanaim continued. “This is now a fortnight I have been graced by your presence, consecutively.”

Cas said nothing.

Mahanaim’s eyebrows lifted. “No? Still not speaking? Then I shall make my observations, as I have been. Do you enjoy this mirror I have become to you?”

Castiel frowned deeper.

“I see how you hold the violence in your palms, cupping it like precious water. You're cruel. But I can see it in your eyes. You seek absolution.”

The corner of Castiel's lips twitched, but besides that, nothing.

Mahanaim leaned forward. “Why do we always seek absolution? We are angels, are we not? We were made perfect in God's eye. So then why is there always an undercut of loneliness? What more do we seek when we already have the divine?”

Silence from Castiel.

“You remain silent, but I think you agree with me.”

“I do not agree with you,” Castiel finally rumbled out, voice like uncut gravel. “I am studying your insanity.”

Mahanaim outright laughed at that. “Right. That's why you sit before me, petulant as a mortal child, wasting your precious time with me with your wings drooped pitifully around you.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Mahanaim lumbered to his feet from where he had been sitting on the floor.

“No, Castiel. I am scratching an itch for you.”

Castiel nodded. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Mahanaim walked forward, lightly wrapping his fingers around the bars that held him in place and kept Castiel out.

“You're lonely.”

Castiel blinked.

“You're lonely, living out this compromise of truths.”

“And what compromise would that be, dearest Mahanaim?”

“That what you're doing is right,” the prisoner whispered.

Castiel looked away. Mahanaim continued at a hushed volume, voice trembling with something Castiel couldn't quite pin down or make sense of. But it was there, nonetheless, and it left Castiel with a deep chasm of unease in his chest.

“You fear the fall. You fear the elation that would come with it. Your entire world would be flipped upside down, and the earth would fall away from your feet, but you would be free Castiel.”

Castiel was silent.

Then all at once Mahanaim was weeping. It started as a single tear, then another, and another, until his face was coated in wetness.

“Don't you want freedom? Don't you want to silence your mind? I can see it, Castiel. I don't know if anyone else can, but something changed in you Castiel. Something changed for you in Egypt.”

Castiel got to his feet, fluffed out his wings that had, in fact, been dropping pathetically, and folded them tightly. “We're done here.”

As Castiel walked away, Mahanaim still spoke, calling after him as he got further and further down the hall.

“Do you even know what your name means? It's literally ‘Cover Of God’! What are you covering for, Castiel? Covering the fact God is a sad*stic, megalomaniac who won't bat an eyelash at killing innocents, at killing these humans he himself created when they step out of line? You were made to be his fall-man, Castiel! He treats his creations like vermin and you're the exterminator! Castiel? Castiel! CASTIEL!”

~

“CAS!”

Cas snapped his head backward, eyes coming into focus. Dean stood before him, looking worried. His fingers were in his face, snapping loudly. When Cas’ eyes came back into focus, Dean lowered his hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Cas said immediately.

Dean co*cked an eyebrow. “Really? Because we're supposed to be—”

Cas slammed his palm into Dean's chest. With an undignified yelp, Dean went flying across the warehouse, over the heads of several angels who had to duck out of the way mid-sparring. Dean hit the wall and grunted, falling into a heap. Getting to his feet, he wiped off some blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Sparring,” he finished his sentence, glaring across the warehouse at Cas.

Cas held up his hand, beckoning Dean to come back to him. Dean cleared his throat and spat out more blood, wincing at his several broken ribs. Even so, he stalked forward, head ducked.

“Hell naw,” he mumbled to himself, walking faster and faster until he started jogging. “You did not just Neo taunt me, you f*cker.”

Bellowing, Dean sprinted across the warehouse. Cas grinned at him and shuffled on his feet, bracing himself for the attack.

~

“That was good today, Dean.”

Cas removed his fingers from Dean's head from where he had just healed his internal injuries. Dean chuckled and stretched with his arms over his head, then shook them out as he cracked his neck side to side.

“Really? You made me feel like a rag doll for most of it.”

Cas grinned at him. “Perhaps, but you never stopped fighting me. That's just as important as winning, Dean.”

Dean looked surprised, but that quickly morphed into co*ckiness, smirking. “Did you expect anything less?”

Cas’ eyes went dull and the smile drifted away. Dean physically saw Cas swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing. He looked off to the side and spoke quietly.

“No, Dean, I did not.”

Dean's own smile dropped away. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked at his boots before glancing back at his instructor.

“Uh, Cas. I uh…We haven't really, well, talked. Since.”

Cas looked at him and squinted. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

For some reason that pissed Dean off. “Yeah well maybe I don't.”

Cas blinked.

“I'm not trying to make this about me, but it is about me, okay? Do you have any idea how weird and uncomfortable this is for me? That I know every time you look at me it eviscerates you?”

Dean shuffled forward, their noses practically touching. “Do you have any idea how guilty that makes me feel?”

Cas’ face crumpled. “Guilty? Dean, that's not your fault. None of it is your fault—”

“Yeah it might not be but I get it, okay? You may think I don't know what you're going through but I do. When Dove was in The Empty? I was going out of my mind. I was angry, and hurt, and—”

Cas looked at his friend sympathetically.

“—and, and it plagued me, man. It wouldn't let up, wouldn't leave me alone. And get that look off your face, ” Dean said then. “The only reason I'm telling you any of this is because—because—”

A soft edge took over Dean's voice and he was no longer angry.

“—because you're Cas , man. You might not be my Cas but you're Cas.”

Cas pulled Dean into a tight hug. Chuckling, Dean patted his back.

“Alright, buddy,” Dean said after the hug grew long.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, eyes squeezed tight. “I don't deserve friends like you.”

“Oh shut up with that bullsh*t.”

“No really, I don't.”

“Cas.”

Cas opened his eyes, feeling better. In fact, he felt a little playful. He smiled mischievously, happy Dean couldn't see the look. “You should talk to Dove, you know.”

“Okay yeah, this is over,” Dean said, trying to extract himself from Cas’ grip. But that only made Cas squeeze him tighter.

“Cas. Lemme go.”

“No. Not until you talk to Dove.”

“Cas!”

Cas laughed.

“Cas!” Dean squirmed, “You prick, lemme go!”

Cas just laughed.

“I will fling you across this warehouse!”

“I'd like to see you try,” Cas taunted, flying upward and hovering out of reach from Dean.

Dean crossed his arms. “Hey! Asshole move! You know I still don't have a handle on flying!”

Cas outright chortled, feeling better than he had in days.

~

“Mahanaim.”

The angel lifted his head from where he had been kneeling. He took one look at who had said his name and he scrambled to his feet. Blinking several times, his jaw finally dropped wide open in shock.

“Castiel!”

Cas pressed his finger to his lips, beseeching quiet. Then he nodded.

“Do my eyes betray me?” Mahanaim whispered. “Is it really you?”

“No,” Cas whispered back somewhat sheepishly. “It's me.”

“I haven't seen you since—”

“Ancient times. I know.”

The angel’s eyes were plate-like. “What are you doing here?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

Cas waved his hand and the bars disappeared. Mahanaim’s jaw dropped open once more. Apprehensively, he stepped out into the hallway, looking all around. Finally believing this wasn't some trick, Mahanaim drew his eyes back on Cas.

“I'm sorry,” Cas said, putting a hand on the angel's shoulder. “You were right. You were always right.”

Without another word, Cas disappeared. Mahanaim looked up and down the hallway in disbelief. When no guards came, and there still were no tricks to be had, Mahanaim disappeared, eager to start living the life that was taken from him.

Chapter 18

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas deftly unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped Dean's pants. They had been doing this enough now that it wasn't awkward, a bumping of limbs and apologies. Instead Dean lifted his hips up and Cas pulled down his underwear and jeans in one fell swoop. However, whereas Cas would usually take Dean's erection into his hand then and start working him over, he instead began to lean forward.

“Woah woah woah, Cas,” Dean said, propping himself up on an elbow and sounding alarmed. “What're you doing?”

“Going down on you.”

Dean's eyes grew. They had done that before, but it was always Dean who gave Cas head. He didn't mind it. In fact, he enjoyed it way more than he thought he would. Not that he would ever do that with anyone outside of Castiel, but the fact remained it was a new side to their sexual relationship he was surprisingly okay with.

“Woah,” Dean said again, gently pressing his palm against Castiel's shoulder to stop him. “You don't have to do that.”

Castiel squeezed Dean's thighs a moment, looking up at him ravenously. “What if I want to?”

Even though Cas saying that made him twitch in want, Dean still tried to argue. “Seriously, you don't have to. You've never done that before. It's kinda gross. I mean, wait, sorry it's not gross—you're not gross, but if you don't know what to expect it—”

The second Castiel's lips touched his head, Dean's protests abruptly stopped. Once Cas opened his mouth, taking him in a little, just the head, shyly, Dean clenched his fists and screwed his eyes shut. When Cas darted his tongue along the underside of Dean's shaft, just a flick, exploring, Dean threw his head back and gave out a loud, filthy moan.

“Nevermind. Do that. Yeah, keep doing that.”

It would take Castiel a few times of doing this before he would remember what Dean tasted like. That first time was a surprise—not exactly unpleasant or vile, but also not what the angel had been expecting. It was salty, tasting and smelling slightly of sweat. Not pungent by any means—Dean had just showered—but there was a musk to the taste that was strictly, one-hundred percent human, one-hundred percent Dean.

And it was perfect.

Castiel, curiously, like he was conducting an experiment, pulled back a little bit but bobbed back down, going down farther this time. Dean let out a moan of appreciation, desperate and cut off. He started to tremble, admittedly a little embarrassed by how close he was already but also largely not giving a damn.

Then, like it was no big deal, like it was nothing at all, Castiel pulled back but then went down again, taking Dean into his mouth entirely. There was no gag, nothing from the angel to show there was any sort of discomfort from deep throating for the first time. Dean had to fight himself from coming right then and there.

“H-holy sh*t. Wait Cas, wait. Gimme a minute.”

So, once again like it was the most natural thing for him, Castiel didn't move, all of Dean's length still in his mouth. Truthfully he was enjoying it; he could smell Dean's pheromones, something he wasn't entirely sure humans could do. It was strangely sweet. Like fruit. Yes, Dean's arousal smelled distinctly of ripe, delicious fruit, and he moaned without even meaning to.

“Cas, move,” Dean cried, having been totally unprepared for the moan that had ripped out of the angel's full lips. Even as Dean commanded Cas to move, Dean had already lost himself, thrusting wantanly into Castiel's mouth. Screwing up his eyes tight, he ran his fingers through Castiel's hair, outright f*cking his mouth.

“Oh sh*t Cas, I'm going to come, I'm going to come, I'm coming, oh f*ck me Cas—”

For as prepared as Cas told himself he was, he was actually not prepared at all. The first spurt of Dean's org*sm hit the back of his throat and he gagged, not expecting it to be so warm. It coated his throat and tongue in seconds, and the consistency was off putting, too. Finally the taste of it was simply too much, and Castiel yanked himself backwards without even fully meaning to.

“f*ck, no!” Dean burst out, and Castiel's teeth clipped his head. He was still coming though, and the last of his cum spurted out on Castiel's nose and upper lip.

Whatever was left in Castiel's mouth he spit out immediately, horrified. Dean was whimpering, muttering 'ow'.

“What was that?” Cas sputtered out, both in revulsion and also alarm at Dean saying ‘ow’. He had never voiced pain during sex before.

All at once Dean peeled open one of his eyes. He took one look at Cas, hyperventilated a few times as he tried not to laugh, but then gave in and started cracking up loudly.

Cas rocked back onto his heels. In disgust and confusion, he wiped the sem*n off his face.

“Oh my God,” Dean wheezed, trembling all over. “That was—that was the best blowj*b until it wasn't, and I have the strangest set of blue balls even though I came, and I am in so much pain but you should see the look on your face—”

Dean toppled over, cupping his balls, laughing.

“I…am so confused.”

Dean laughed harder.

Castiel started feeling upset. He flushed, the first inklings of feeling mortified spreading over him. “I…am sorry. I'm really sorry, Dean.”

Dean started to calm down, looking at Cas.

Cas looked at the ground. Honestly he looked and sounded like he might burst into tears.

“I didn't mean for that to happen. I wanted it to be good for you, special. But I ruined it. I ruin everything—”

“Woah, hey, stop,” Dean said, sitting up, growing concerned. He quickly pulled up his pants and underwear.

“I'm really sorry Dean—”

“C’mere,” Dean said, grabbing Cas and roughly pulling him up onto the couch with him. Not even caring when the hastily made position was a little bit uncomfortable, Dean held Cas close to his chest.

Cas whimpered.

“Hey, don't do that,” Dean said gently, forcing Cas to look at him. Dean smiled. “It's okay, seriously. Stuff like that happens sometimes. Sex ain't always perfect. In fact, when you think about it, sex is actually kinda weird.”

Cas didn't reply, so Dean continued.

“You're rubbing things together, and then after a point you can't really control your body, and there's smells, and there's liquids—”

Cas pulled a face.

“Ha! See!” Dean pointed at him triumphantly.

“Well when you put it like that, it's very not sexy,” Cas conceded.

“Exactly!” Dean declared happily. “And that's okay. It's not always going to be sexy.”

Castiel frowned. Dean grinned and booped Castiel's nose. “Plus now we have quite the story of the first time you gave me head.”

“Great,” Castiel said, looking off to the side.

“One day you'll look back and laugh.”

“No, I won't.”

“I bet you will.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.” Then a thought slapped Cas in the brain and he looked at Dean wide-eyed. “Wait—you said, the first time I gave you head. That would imply there will be more times.”

“Well yeah, Cas. That was f*cking awesome.”

“Until it wasn't.”

Dean gave a wolfish grin. “Until it wasn't. But, hey—how's that saying go again? Practice makes perfect?”

~

Every other time Castiel had thought of that memory, he was filled with embarrassment. For the first time, he smiled. It had, in fact, been funny. He couldn't wait to see if Dean remembered it.

“You okay?”

Cas jumped. Turning, he found Sam staring at him curiously. Having that memory, and then seeing Dean's brother, made him blush in embarrassment. He was suddenly extremely grateful Sam was human and couldn't read his mind.

“Yes. Just thinking,” Castiel replied, dunking his teabag into the mug several times before sweeping it off the counter and heading out of the kitchen.

“Do you have a second?” Sam asked, hurrying after Cas.

“Of course. How might I assist you, Sam?”

“Well, two things, actually.”

“Alright.”

“I was wondering when we were actually going to Hell.”

Cas stopped walking and turned around, squinting, looking Sam up and down a moment. Then he put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

“Trust me, Sam. I am itching to get there too. But to try this prematurely would mean death.”

“Yeah but, Lucifer's gone. Crowley is a joke.”

“With all due respect, you have only seen a fraction of Hell, a very small fraction might I add. You saw the civilized area.” Cas shuffled forward, eyes still squinted. “Do you remember the Hellhounds?”

Sam blew out a breath through his nose. “How could I forget?”

“And the creatures in Purgatory? The non-human ones?”

Sam swallowed but his eyes became hard.

“Those are the things that await us. Those are the things that make me unable to do this alone. I am but one angel.”

Sam snorted. “Don't sell yourself short, Cas.”

“I'm not. I'm being realistic. In fact, by my estimates I could probably get through thirty percent of the area on the way to where Dean is without incident.”

Sam's eyes widened.

“Sixty percent there and I would start struggling.”

Sam's lips parted slightly.

“I wouldn't make it to the inner torture chambers. Not by myself.”

Sam swallowed and licked his lips.

“Even so, there will be casualties. It's my duty to mitigate as many as possible.”

Sam didn't speak.

“Now,” Cas said, folding his arms in front of him and taking on a relaxed stance, hoping to ease Sam's obvious unease. “What was the second thing?”

Sam's eyes hardened once more. “I was wondering why you haven't trained one on one with me yet, Cas.”

Chapter 19

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas slid his eyes to the side. “There are many angels I haven't trained with yet.”

Sam huffed out a breath, clearly perturbed. “So you're not holding back?”

Cas co*cked an eyebrow. “No…”

Sam shuffled forward. “Because if you were you'd tell me, right?”

Cas crossed his arms, having an internal fight with himself, trying to fight back his dominant side, the drill sargent side. “No offense, Sam, but I don't have to tell you anything. Not when it comes to training you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So you are?”

Cas rolled his eyes and started to walk away. It had been a long, grueling day, even for Cas. He just wanted it to be over.

“You listen to me,” Sam snapped in a way that honestly surprised Cas, surprising him so much he stopped in the hallway and turned back around. “Sure, I'm the only human, but I can take it.”

“I know you are a very capable person, Sam. I have hunted besides you these past few months.”

“So then why not fight me?”

Cas rolled his eyes and started to walk away. Sam darted forward and grabbed his arm.

“I am my peak fitness. I go running every day outside of any of this. I take good care of my body, inside and out.”

“I know that.”

“So then why? You said that you would push us past our breaking points and I haven't felt that yet.”

“Well of course not, you've been training on the high ropes to improve your balance—”

“That's a bunch of bullsh*t Cas and you know it!”

Cas was starting to get annoyed. “It is not bullsh*t, Sam. You were the slowest one up there and you almost fell, twice! When you did fall I nearly had to send someone up there before you slipped!”

His nostrils flared. “Yeah but I didn't fall and I got up myself. Besides, do you really think there's going to be a damn high ropes course in Hell? C'mon, Cas!”

“What do you want from me?” Castiel finally snapped, straining to not yell at the man before him.

“I want you to push me! I want you to break me because like you said, when we go to Hell it's for real. It's life and death! And I will be damned if I go in there unprepared and pampered when it's my brother's soul on the line!”

“And what if something happens to you?” Cas finally lost it. “Then I will have to be the one who tells Dean you're dead. I will have to be the one who gets to sit there and pick up the pieces because his brother is dead! I will be the one having to stop him from doing something else stupid to save you from death again!”

Sam started to look understanding, and his face softened slightly.

Cas laughed bitterly, putting his hand on his hips and shaking his head. “You know, I kind of see why Ma’at is so anal about order. Someone dies, they should stay dead.” Cas tossed his hands in the air. “No. Instead I have to go chasing Dean into Purgatory to save you, and now I have to chase him in Hell!”

Sam frowned.

“Don't get me wrong. He's worth it. But…”

Cas let lose a sound of disgruntled annoyance that was half a moan and half a growl. He then sighed heavily and hung his head. Cas scratched his forehead with his thumb nail, eyebrows lifted.

“I'm sorry. Here I am spouting about order while I'm barreling into Hell to extract someone who sold his soul, fair and square. Tsch . I'm a hypocrite.”

“No,” Sam said with a shrug, “you just love the guy.”

Cas peered up at Sam. Sam smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“And he's my brother, and I love him too, which is why tomorrow you and me are going to go toe to toe because I have to be ready for anything. Got it?”

Cas sighed heavily in defeat and hung his head. “Yes, Sam.”

Sam patted his shoulder and gave a curt nod. “Good talk.”

~

“Dean. Look at me. Dean. Deeeeeano boy. Hey. Hey.”

Dean slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. He was able to see through one eye. The other, he assumed, was swollen shut.

He hadn't been completely stripped down yet. Literally. He was naked, yes, but he still has skin on his muscles. Which meant he still had days of torture to endure before he was healed completely and the slow, agonizing process was started all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Alistair smiled at Dean's one open eye. “There you are. Thought I lost you for a second there.”

I wish, Dean thought to himself bitterly.

Everything hurt. He had learned long ago that if he didn't move too much, the meathooks didn't hurt after a point. But then there was the constant screaming of his joints from being strung up and spread out, the sharp pain where his skin had been ripped open, stabbed, mutilated. There was the choking on putrid hot air that smelled like sulfur and filled his lungs with soot. And let's not forget how Alistair loved shaking him, wake up those stiff limbs and seeping wounds so any blissful numbness disappeared in a volley of excruciating pain.

“We're gonna try something different,” Alistair cooed. “I want you to tell me something about yourself. It has to be intimate, though.”

When Dean swallowed, his parched lips cracked and bled. Even so, he managed a chuckle, managed to whisper,

“f*ck…you.”

“Aw, Dean! I didn't mean it like that. I meant intimate as in something that means something to you. Something intimately sensitive to you. It could be a person, a thing. But I need it to be pungent in its feelings. I need it to pack an emotional wallop. Can you do that for me Deano? Be a good little boy and tell me all about it?”

Dean chuckled again. “I said, f*ck you.”

Alistair took his knife and pressed the tip into Dean's scrotum, twisting. Dean hated when he did that. He gasped back a sob.

“C'mon, Deano. Share something with me and I'll give you a rest. Scouts honor. “

“Why…why in the f*ck…” Dean mumbled out, trying to stay conscious. He hated passing out because Alistair always woke him up with pain. “Why in th' f*ck should I trust anything you say?”

“Because we've never played this game. So, c'mon, Deano boyo. What do you say?”

Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was the hunger and the thirst that never ceased, that never killed him. Or maybe he was just tired. Regardless, Dean said words that were half-true, something that he had never acknowledged out loud so it didn't seem like it was a big deal. He thought it was ridiculous, thought he was feeding Alistair some smart-ass reply.

“The song Arms by Christina Perri makes me think of Cas.”

A giggle bubbled out of Dean's swollen and blood-caked lips. Then a laugh. Then he felt blood on his face, his cheeks specifically, and he looked up, confused where it was coming from, until he realized the wetness he expected, blood, wasn't that at all, but tears. Before long his laughter turned into sobs, and he hung limply from the chains, unable to do anything else.

Alistair watched this display of weakness, frowning. The longer it continued, the more pleased Alistair looked. When Dean became outright hysterical, Alistair waved a hand and Dean was in a room, curled up on a grimy floor, skin unmarked. Alistair squatted and gently lifted Dean's chin, looking into his tear-soaked face.

“There's more than one way to skin a cat, Dean.”

Smiling, Alistair disappeared, leaving Dean on the cold concrete floor alone with his tears.

Chapter 20

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

There was a lingering scent of dust, hose water, and old lumber in the warehouse. No one knew what was housed in the now-empty space, those smells the only hints as to what once was. The lack of materials was just like the lack of noise that reverberated as Cas and Sam sized each other up.

Sam would have realized how desperately quiet it was had it not been for the pounding of his heart in his ears. Cas would have realized how everyone had formed a large, uneven circle around them, clinging to the perimeters of the walls, had he not been so honed in on his lover’s younger brother. The air practically sizzled in anticipation.

“You can bring whatever you want,” Cas had told him. “Just don’t tell me.”

So that’s why, when Sam pulled out his gun, he was ready for Cas to move quicker than the eye could see. The hunter knew what was coming next, so he hadn’t even held the gun properly for any sort of seriously aimed shot before he too was spinning on his foot to turn around. Sure as sh*t, Cas was there; what Cas hadn’t realized was that Sam also had a parry blade, and he wasn’t fast enough–a thin bloom of blood sprouted from Castiel’s cheekbone. It was better than the eye Sam was aiming for.

Sam knew the kicks were coming, and he blocked them as best and as quickly as he could. Sam hit back, once, twice, three times. Cas grabbed his forearm and swung him around. Sam held on tight though, and didn't let go when Cas tried to throw him. Instead, he went for the element of surprise again, stabbing Cas in the crook of his elbow.

Cas nearly brought Sam to his knees with a quick snap of his head forward; the sound of a wishbone snapping rang out as Sam’s nose was broken. Cas didn’t stop there, now catching Sam off guard with the element of surprise–he headbutted him a second time. Even though Sam’s vision exploded in a confusing array of colors, he focused not on the pain, not even on Cas, but on how Dean had made him feel safe throughout the years.

Sam swept Castiel’s leg out from under him, twisting his arm around. There was a quick exchange of blows, equally viscous, all landing true. The pair began to wrestle, a somewhat confusing blur of limbs to everyone who watched with breath held. Sam screamed when Cas yanked his arm back far enough to dislocate it completely. Cas screamed when Sam stabbed him in the foot with another knife he wasn’t aware Sam had. Sam shrieked when Cas yanked on his arm again, and he felt several things tear internally. Cas froze when Sam pulled out The Colt, which wasn't the original gun he had drawn, it's cold metal pressed against his hot temple.

Time in the room seemed to warp, changing from its frenetic pace into molasses. Sam panted, hazel eyes locked with surprised blue. Everyone else watched, stunned.

“Boom,” Sam said, signaling that he would have shot the angel in the head.

~

Sam opened his bedroom door after there had been a knock on it. He was pleasantly surprised to find Raven there, smiling up at him. He shifted all his weight to one foot and smiled.

“Hey! Hope I'm not intruding?”

“Not at all. What's up?”

Raven tucked her long dark brown hair behind her ear, still smiling. “Just wanted to compliment you on a job well done today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. That was impressive, besting Cas.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Looking co*cky, Sam said, “I've been through a couple of apocalypses. I feel like I know what I'm doing by now.”

Raven laughed. “Didn't say you didn't! I just know if I was a mortal going up against the Castiel, I would've been pooping my pants.”

Sam chuckled at how she phrased it. Then he shook his head thoughtfully. “So, Cas really is as big of a deal as everyone makes him out to be?”

“Yeah! You saw him fight. He nearly ripped your arm off.”

Sam winced, remembering a few hours ago. Holding his shoulder he rotated it.

“Speaking of…” Raven said quietly then. “Uh. You okay? He banged you up quite a bit.”

Sam smirked. “I'm fine. He healed me right away.”

Raven looked at him in disbelief. He slid his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Dislocated shoulder with torn muscles and ligaments, broken nose, a pretty bad concussion. Not really anything that I haven't gone through.”

“You're incredibly brave,” Raven said quietly, the apples of her cheeks turning pink.

Sam narrowed his eyes a little bit and co*cked his head. “I am?”

Raven nodded. “Job or not, Cas is a full-fledged seraph. The only creature more powerful than him are archangels and God himself. You're a mortal. Not only did you willingly fight to the almost-death with a seraph, but you're going to Hell.”

Sam shrugged, blushing. “Well, yeah. Dean's there. Of course I'm going to Hell.”

Raven smiled softly and looked at him in awe. “You really are brave, Sam. I hope you know how much I admire that about you.”

Raven turned and walked away, leaving a somewhat bewildered Sam standing in his doorway.

~

“That was very good, you know.”

The following day, Cas had requested Sam's presence in the warehouse earlier than everyone was scheduled for training. The angel sat cross-legged on the ground. A huge sheet of paper was spread out before him. It had been creased several times, evidently where it had been folded on itself to make its size more manageable. Sitting next to Cas on the floor was a box of colored pencils, a few colors fanned out. Currently he was holding a blue one.

Sam co*cked an eyebrow, slowing his approach, not expecting to find Cas like that.

“I didn't realize you had The Colt on you,” Cas continued to comment, brow furrowed as he examined the large paper in front of him, not looking up at Sam. “That was a lot of weapons you brought.”

“I had a few more on me,” Sam said slowly, still trying to figure out what was happening. “Just didn't get a chance to use them.”

“I almost called it,” Cas said, still not looking at Sam. Instead he leaned forward and made a small ‘x’ on the paper. “I was going to rip your arm off. You would have bled out. It would have been a death blow.”

Sam rotated his shoulder which had, obviously, been healed immediately the day before. “I knew you were stronger and faster than me. There wasn't any way I would beat you that way. My best bet was to rely on what I know and the element of surprise.”

Cas nodded, picking up a purple pencil then and drawing squiggly lines seemingly at random. “Bringing the weapon that's heavily warded so no angel nor demon can sense its presence was very smart.”

“And I made a show of drawing my other one so you'd think that was the only gun I had on me.”

Cas finally lifted his head and grinned. “I like how you think.”

Sam jutted his chin down at the paper finally. “What's this?”

Cas waved his arm. “Hell.”

Sam scrutinized the paper. It was, in fact, a map. It was easily one of the most confusing maps Sam had ever laid eyes on. Twists, turns, dead ends. The entire thing looked like a confusing labyrinth, a series of corridors that wound in on themselves and didn't seem to go anywhere. There were several places where a long passage spanned the entire length of the paper all the way to its edge, and Sam wondered if it just…stopped, came to a frustrating dead end. The more Sam looked at it, the more it reminded him of a small child attempting to draw a map on an Etch-A-Sketch.

Cas frowned. “Or at least what I remember of it. I'm hoping there hasn't been any major reconstruction since last I was there.”

Sam couldn't believe his ears. “You were in Hell?”

“Recon missions, rescue missions.” Cas shrugged like it was nothing. “Things like that.”

Sam walked around so he stood next to Cas. As the angel took up an orange pencil and made hatch marks in the upper right corner, Sam squatted and tried to make sense of it.

“What're these symbols?”

Cas pointed to the orange ones he just made. “Rooms with false floors that will drop out and kill you with spikes as you fall on them.”

Sam kept the fact that reminded him of a Mario game to himself.

Cas pointed to wave-like purple markings. “Poison gas. The black markings that look the same are rooms devoid of oxygen. Obviously we will be unable to get to Dean those ways since you will be along.”

Sam frowned.

“Red hatch marks are fire traps, incendiary.”

The hunter pointed. “Green circles?”

“Biologically enhanced sicknesses. For example, this room here—” Cas tapped on a room that had the circles, “has the Yersinia pestis bacteria that has been modified to be aerosol and the incubation period sped to mere minutes.”

Sam raised both eyebrows. “Bubonic plague?”

Cas nodded grimly. “That's only one of them.”

Sam looked at all the rooms and hallways that had markings on them. He tried to shake the sudden feeling that, maybe, this just wasn't going to work. Sam mentally shook himself and pointed at filled-in brown dots. “Those?”

“Beasts,” Cas said. “Hellhounds, imps, things like that.”

“Great,” Sam muttered to himself, noticing how most hallways had at least one such obstacle. Sam the noticed things marked in light blue, and he pointed at one. “What's that, the light blue?”

“Various wardings, all against angels.” Cas frowned. “I fear that I'm not remembering all of them, or more have been added.”

Sam took note of a final thing. He co*cked his head to the side, trying to make heads or tails of it. Finally he tapped one of the longer notes. “What is that? Latin? It's weird though, I can't make it out.”

“Enochian,” Cas replied simply and crossed his arms. “It's so in the off chance this falls into the wrong hands it will be illegible. Demons can't read Enochian and angels can't read Demon. I mean, we can make up bits and pieces but nothing substantial. I've also written it in my own special coded format that only I know, so even if someone managed to translate they won't be able to decipher what any of it means.”

Sam grinned. “You're good at this.”

Cas gave a rueful and playfully mocking smile. “This isn't my first rodeo, Sam.”

Sam snorted. Then he noticed yellow, stylized stars drawn he had missed on account of the color on white paper and the glare from the overhead fluorescent lights. He pointed again. “What's that?”

“Illusions. Unfortunately they're all different—some will show false floors so you'll plummet to your death. Others will make you see things, see things you want to see as a means to make you emotionally unsteady. Others will trick you into fighting things that simply aren't there.”

“Cool,” Sam said sarcastically. Then, “So Cas, what can I help you with? Why’d you want me to come early today?”

Cas gestured at the map with both hands.

Sam looked at him in disbelief. “Uh, seems like you got a pretty good handle on all this.”

“I don't though,” Cas growled in frustration. “Having a map is one thing. Knowing how to utilize it is another. Look—Dean is being kept somewhere here.” Cas pointed at the middle of the map where there were several rings drawn, reminding Sam of the rings of a tree. “We have to get here. But how ?”

Sam looked bewildered and pressed a hand to his chest. “You're asking me? ”

“Yes.”

“Me? Out of anyone else you can ask, you're asking me?”

“Well yes, Sam. You and your brother are the smartest humans I have ever known.”

Sam exploded into a full-body flush at the compliment. Composing himself quickly, Sam resituated onto his rear and poured over the map. Minutes ticked by, and the pair murmured ideas back and forth.

“What's this huge space right here?” Sam asked, making circles with his hand a large area that was blank off to the left, but also butt up against the rings directly.

“The ocean.”

“I'm sorry, did you say ocean?”

Cas nodded.

“There's an ocean. In Hell?”

“Yes. It's filled with monsters of course but the water itself is just water.”

Sam sighed. Then he pointed at a square near the middle of the map. He tapped his finger. “What's that?”

“Alistair’s personal chambers.”

“Okay, well, that's not helpful.” Frowning, Sam looked near the bottom of the map, slightly to the right. It seemed like the most straight-forward path, without too many traps, surprises, and dead-ends along the way. “And this area?”

“The civilized area I mentioned, where the higher-functioning demons reside. The room you're pointing at is Crowley’s throne room.”

Sam's eyebrows shot up high. “Crowley?”

“Yes, Crowley—that's what I said.”

Sam's face spread into a slow, slightly maniacal smile. Cas was immediately intrigued.

“What Sam?”

Sam quickly shook his head. “Nothing.”

Cas co*cked an eyebrow.

Sam smiled and clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Really—I was just thinking if only there was a way to get Crowley to help us—”

“The fact you would even suggest that—” Cas balked, immediately incensed.

“I'm sorry. You're right.”

Cas puckered his lips.

“Never mind, okay? I'm sorry.”

Studying Sam a moment longer, Cas gave a curt nod and they continued with their discussion.

Chapter 21

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Sometimes when Dean drove alone, he would listen to music he normally wouldn't. He hated most of it—it was over commercialized. The same beats used over and over. No substance to the words, and when there was he doubted the artist actually felt any of it, just grasping at phrases that sounded heavy, words that would swing around and slam into someone's chest under the faux pretense of, yeah man, I'm deep.

It was, succinctly, a bunch of bullsh*t.

Sometimes when Cas accompanied him, and they were alone in the car, Dean would let Cas put on his music.

“Say one word to Sammy about this,” Dean threatened the first time he allowed Cas to pick the music.

And it didn't sound very good, coming over Castiel's phone, because Sam hadn't modified Baby yet; Dean was still alive and he would've skinned Sam for doing that. So they listened sometimes—just sometimes—to Castiel's music. And sometimes—just sometimes—Dean actually liked what came over the tiny cell phone speaker.

The early morning sky was beautiful. Picturesque clouds, fluffy, abundant, puffy as marshmallows, were blue as the sky they reflected. They higher they sat, the color morphed, first into a light grey-red, then a red orange. The uppermost clouds had clumped together, forming a solid body of cotton-blanket goodness which golden sunrays broke through right where the sun was coming up. It was gorgeous, one of those sunrises you hope to remember always because it was just so perfect you're not sure you'll ever see anything else like it again.

“Put on that band,” Dean instructed, “that one I like. The one you like too.”

“I like many bands, Dean,” Castiel had answered back, and the sun broke through the clouds in a blinding golden gush, and Castiel's blue eyes lit up, clear and impossibly blue.

Dean had snapped his fingers as he drove. “You know, that one you heard at the compound. It's like, uh—Diamond Sprint or something.”

Castiel had paused, unsure if Dean was being a brat or if he was seriously offering that up because he thought that's what they were called. His eyebrows raised, and he spoke in slow disbelief.

“You mean Amber Run?”

“Yeah!” Dean said with a grin. “That!”

Chuckling, Cas shook his head and pulled up his music. “Sure thing, let me put Diamond Sprint on your you.”

Dean had turned his head then and he grinned; and the sunlight washed on his face in golden succulent streams, and his green, candy apple eyes were warm and seemed to glow, a color almost impossible to be human. But they were, and they were Dean’s, and it was just a testimony of how unique this human truly was.

“Tell Sammy I like them—”

“And you'll kill me,” Cas replied flatly. He rolled his eyes. “I know.”

Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel's cheek, squeezing his knee. “Love you.”

Castiel pursed his lips, trying not to smile at this ridiculous man before him. “I love you too, Dean.”

“I got a great idea—how about you shove it?”

“Dean, I don't need you to rescue me.”

“I'm not—has nothing to do with you, Dove, and everything to do with if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's a bitchy asshole angel and I'm going to call them that.”

Cas had snapped out of the memory, annoyed. He found Dean and Dove standing next to an angel by the name of Sareash. Cas, not in the mood for whatever was happening, started to stride across the warehouse quickly.

“Dean—” Dove was saying.

“No,” Dean cut her off, getting up in Sareash’s face. “What they f*ck is your problem? You jealous or some sh*t?”

Sareash flat out laughed at Dean. Cas was upon them then.

“What's wrong?” Cas asked in a commanding voice that covered up how exasperated he was.

“Nothing,” Sareash snarled, upper lip curled as he stared Dean down.

“Oh that was something,” Dean said, glaring death at the angel in front of him, not blinking. “Telling Dove she has no right to be here and that you hope she gets a wing ripped off—that sounds like a whole lotta something.”

Sareash sneered. Cas was shocked, even though he didn't show it. He swiveled his head to Dove.

“Is this true?”

Dove didn't answer. Cas’ eyes flashed and he puckered his lips.

“I asked you a direct question, Dove. You are to answer your commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Dove replied. She stood straighter and met his gaze directly. Though she was serious, there was a subtle playfulness sitting behind her eyes, a happiness that Sareash would get what was coming to him. “That was said, sir.”

Cas rounded on Sareash then, eyes glowing in furry. “What's the meaning of this?”

“Training,” Sareash replied, upper lip still curled. “I'm trying to rile her up, Castiel. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Right,” Dean jumped in, “except every single f*cking time you're around Dove you got nothing to say except flapping your mouth with diarrhea pouring out—”

“Dean, that's enough,” Cas said strictly, still glaring at Sareash. “Sareash, you do not call me Castiel.”

Sareash frowned. “Yes, sir. Sorry sir.”

“While I no longer agree with corporal punishment,” Cas told Sareash, “telling a fellow solider you hope bodily harm comes to them is utterly unacceptable. We are to work as one. I will not have dissonance in my unit. Have I made myself clear?”

Sareash didn't know when to quit though. “Really, threatening me with corporal punishment? So you are playing favorites.”

Cas had enough. He lunged forward, grabbing Sareash by both sides of his head. Cas’ eyes glowed even brighter, as did the hands that clutched Sareash’s skull. While no one knew exactly what Cas was doing, it evidently was painful for Sareash screamed at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the room stopped and gawked at the interruption.

“Speak to me like that once more,” Cas shouted over the screaming, “and I will drag you to Naomi myself and have her reprogram you until your brain is so scrambled you don't even remember your own name. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes sir!” Sareash screamed.

Cas shoved Sareash away in disgust. He stumbled away, looking fearful at Cas. The room was still, no sound except Sareash’s labored panting. Cas glared around the room.

“WHAT?!”

Everyone jumped back into their training as though nothing had happened.

~

Another day of training arrived and even though everyone was paired off into twos, everyone seemed to come together and spar as a group that afternoon. The atmosphere was the most light-hearted it had been and, even though lighthearted comradery originally had been frowned upon. there even seemed to be some fun jokes and playfulness between everyone that Cas didn’t correct. Castiel was in the back of the group fighting off Hannah, both smiling and laughing. Dove thought it was nice to see her Castiel smile after everything that had been going on.

Cas, Dove noticed on the other hand, seemed to get lost in thoughts, maybe memories, during his training. Sometimes he would zone out, still going through the motions but when she really looked, she could tell he wasn’t all there.

Like now.

So, Dove snuck away from the small group that had appeared around her and made her way over to him. She slinked up behind him and flung her left arm around his neck while pressing the butt of her angel blade into his side. She pulled him back against her, whispering into his ear.

“And you’re dead.”

He chuckled and then quickly spun out of her arms, his own blade at the ready.

“So, you wanna play?”

She nodded, rotating the blade in her hand.

“I won’t go easy on you. Are you sure you want this?”

He licked his lips and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Give it to me, Cas. Give me everything you’ve got.”

She winked and his eyes twinkled. Just before he pounced she dodged, seeing it coming first. She tsked twice and rounded on him.

“You’re better than that. Come on, Cas. I have a feeling you know how I like it.”

Cas’ face turned red, and his eyes shined with playfulness in them. He scrunched his nose and pursed his lips together as his brows slowly rose higher.

“Playful today?”

He tilted his head and Dove nodded.

“I just need a challenge. I know you can give me one.”

“Alright, Dove. You got it.”

He lunged, catching her off guard, throwing her backward. She skidded to a stop, charging back at him only for him to duck and spin, grabbing her from behind and thrusting the butt of his blade into her back.

He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, “Now who’s dead?”

“Oh!” Dean’s voice bellowed across the warehouse.

Both Cas and Dove looked over at him and he was pointing in their direction. “He got the upper hand, Dove. Come one, how can you allow that?” He smirked, knowing he was only pushing her to go harder.

Dove spun out, the same move Cas had just done, and pounced on him immediately. He walked backward, beckoning her to follow. He glanced at Dean quickly, gesturing with his head that he was agreeing with him.

“Come on, he’s right. You keep saying you want me to be rough with you. ‘Don't take it easy on me, Cas’,” he mocked. “‘Don’t give me special treatment, Cas’,” he mimicked. “‘Give me everything you have, Cas’.”

He kept walking backward, taunting Dove. “But yet, you’re showing me absolutely nothing any other angel can’t do. So, tell me, Dove. What’s so special about God’s Daughter? Hmm?”

Her eyes flashed and within an instant she was holding Cas above her head. She flew him high into the air and threw him as hard as she could. Caught off guard, he thrashed around momentarily while he caught his balance and steady himself, hovering in the air with Dove. On the floor, Dean stood below looking up.

“Hey man, that’s not cool.” Dean said to Cas, and Dove rolled her eyes, any ounce of playfulness that was in her now gone and replaced with irritation.

~

“I have thicker skin than you think, Dean,” Dove was ranting and she slammed down her bag on the war room table. “Kinda have to with everything I've been through in my life!”

Dean groaned, walking past her. “I was being playful.”

“Biting off Cas’ head when he joins in the fun isn't playful, Dean, it's obnoxious!”

“I just thought—”

Dove spun around and glared. “What, Dean, what did you just think?”

“I just thought that maybe after today he had gone too far razzing you—”

“It's called friendly banter, Dean!” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “We were all doing it! And maybe you should think less, it seems to get you in trouble! Or maybe your problem is you don't think enough!”

“Look, I don't know what crawled up your butt but I'm done here. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“You're right, you shouldn't have!”

“I'm gonna go shower, I smell,” Dean said then and blew past Dove. As he barreled past she glared.

Cas had watched the scene unfold before him. In the time the alternate universe counterparts had been staying at the bunker, such outbursts were unfortunately a pretty common occurrence. Since Dove's, Raven's, the other Castiel, and the other Dean's arrival, Dean and Dove's relationship had been tumultuous.

Frankly Cas was sick of it. He didn't know how anyone else felt, though the fact that Sam, the other Castiel, and Raven all scattered from the room pointed to how they felt.

Cas had picked a warehouse a handful of miles from the bunker. He chose this since there wasn't room for everyone at the farmhouse, which was a few hours away. As such, everyone had hunkered down in the bunker.

Cas thought it would be a good thing; something to build morale and a sense of being a team. Instead it was awkward at best. Or, at least it was any time Dean and Dove were in the same breathing space. If they weren't together, things were fine. Normal. Good, even.

“Dove!” Cas snapped before she herself could leave the room.

Looking slightly startled but still furious, she turned to him.

“Cas?” she asked flatly, coldly, nostrils flared in barely held back rage.

He could tell speaking to her right then would be pointless. He huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Nevermind.”

She nodded and left the room.

Nevermind wasn't going to cut it though. Later, Cas was walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. He broke into a run when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a terrible, physical fight breaking out. As he rounded the corner, he drew his angel blade out, ready for the worst. Instead he was thrown into the wall because Dean had been slammed into him. When Dean scrambled up, ducking his head to go running back into the kitchen, Cas jumped to his feet instead and grabbed his wrist, yanking him back.

Cas quickly assessed the situation. Everything was a wreck, and Dove stood in the middle of the disaster that had been the kitchen. Shelving was knocked over, supplies littered the floor. The sink was broken, somehow, the faucet bent, and a narrow stream of water arced out of it onto the floor. She was panting, eyes glowing bright pink, strawberry hair blown out and crazy, half in her face. Her hands were held out at either side of her, clutched like talons; she looked depraved. Cas looked back at Dean, who was glaring at Dove.

“What is the meaning of this?” Cas screamed. “I have had it! With both of you!”

“Dean started it,” Dove said in a low, shaking voice that barely sounded like her own.

Cas rolled his eyes heavily. “Oh for f*cks— I didn't ask who started it! Grow up! Both of you! This ends now!”

“I'm trying to act like an adult about this,” Dean protested loudly, “but she's not—”

Cas spun and roughly shoved Dean against the wall, holding him at the pec. “ Shut up, Dean ! I don't give a flying f*ck who started it, and I don't give a flying f*ck who is continuing it—and, in fact,” he said with a high pitched, annoyed laugh, looking over his shoulder at Dove then, “I don't care who f*cked who, or why, or when! Yeah, that's right, I know about your stupid melodrama! And I don't care! This. Ends. NOW!”

Dean's eyes grew wide when Dove's hair lifted, floating around her head. The area of her palms started glowing with her pink grace. Cas let go of Dean’s chest, lips parting slightly. Dean tried to basically become one with the wall, pressing himself against it, gawking at Dove.

Cas half-turned his head, speaking over his shoulder at Dean. “Has she ever looked like that before?”

Cas glanced at Dean when the man didn't answer; he was shaking his head vehemently. Cas focused back on Dove, taking a protective stance in front of Dean. Once again he spoke over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on Dove.

“Dean. Get out of here. Go get the other Castiel and send him this way. Quickly.”

Dean nodded and sprinted down the hallway. Cas didn't put away his angel blade away; instead he flipped it in his hand so the blade ran along his forearm. He held up both hands, walking forward cautiously.

“Dove? You need to calm down.”

“CALM DOWN?!”

Cas froze. He then carefully slid a foot forward. “Yes.”

Dove outright cackled. “Calm down? Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN?”

Cas shuffled forward.

“Oh that's rich, Cas. How do you expect me to calm down when everyone I have ever known and loved has BETRAYED ME?”

Cas stopped moving. So, Dove took a menacing step forward.

“Do you understand what it's like to be CREATED and then DISCARDED LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH?”

Cas paused. He took a cautious step forward. “I do, actually.”

Dove cackled again. “No, you don't. You think you do, but you don't! God never slaughtered an entire village just to be cruel to you!”

Another small step forward. “Correct, but he had me slaughter an entire town for what he perceived was disobedience. It included babies, Dove. God had me kill innocent infants.”

“THAT'S NOT THE SAME!”

Cas licked his lips. “You're right; people were murdered because of you, and I am a murderer. Different situation, similar outcome and guilt.”

“If I didn't exist,” Dove said in a deep voice, the first tears falling, “innocent people wouldn't have died that day.”

A more confident step forward. “And if I didn't exist the town that started Passover would have been unscarred and unburdened by the grief of having every first born killed senselessly.”

“Fine,” she spat, “but your own father didn't send your brother to kill you!”

“Both of our brothers are sad*stically evil. Look, Dove—” he stepped forward, just outside the kitchen. “I'm not trying to invalidate what you're feeling. If anything, it's the opposite. Dove, I love you—”

“DON'T SAY THAT TO ME!”

Cas paused and took a chance. “I love you and I'm trying desperately to let you know you're not alone.”

The other Castiel abruptly appeared. He took one look at Dove looked deeply worried. “Dove? What's wrong?” Then to Cas, “What's happening? I came as soon as Dean told me.”

“What's wrong?” she shrieked. “I was persecuted for existing!”

“This could get very bad very quickly,” Cas muttered to his counterpart out of the side of his mouth. “Didn't she have a literal rage demon in her, spawned from her emotions?”

Castiel nodded in confirmation he had heard Cas. He addressed his once-lover, looking heartbroken. “Dove. That was so long ago…”

Cas winced; he wouldn't have said that. Luckily Dove took it in stride though. She lowered her hands and stalked forward. Cas took a nervous step away when she stood right in front of him, leering up at her Castiel.

“Oh it was a long time ago, but I haven't forgotten. Dad used to call me his Angel of Peace. He said I would go to the earth and bring love. Instead he tried to have me killed and banished me!” She clutched at her shirt at her chest, crying harder. “And I have this monster in me. A literal monster. ”

Dove clutched at her head, quickly becoming hysterical. “My rage created a monster. I created something evil. I have evil in me. ”

“Perhaps,” Cas said gently, “but you're not evil.”

Dove was hyperventilating, utterly breaking apart. “My grace—was gone. My lover—gone. My daughter—gone and hidden from me.”

Castiel had tears in his eyes. “Dove, I am so sorry —”

But she wasn't hearing him, too caught up with everything spinning around her head and spilling out of her mouth. “I was trapped in The Empty, and Shadow kept taunting me, and Lucifer kept taunting me, and all I could think of was everyone I had left outside.”

With every word her speech sped up. Slowly her eyes started to dim, until finally all that was left were her sad human eyes.

“All I could think about was the NCIS team I lost, and you guys, and Dean—Dean! And he came to me in There Empty, and I was so pissed he turned himself into an angel, but I was so happy to see him —”

She let out a strangled sob and dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself.

“—and we kissed! And I love him, and I'm stupid to give my love to anyone because it's always thrown in my face! Dean forgot me , discarded me , just like my father did—” she glared at Castiel. “ Just like you did! Every man I ever give my heart to tears it out!”

“Dove,” Castiel tried to cut in, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You're breaking my heart. Can we please just—”

“I'm breaking your heart?” she shrieked up at him. Laughing and sobbing all at once, she rocked herself back and forth. “I get out of The Empty only to be sexually assaulted and almost raped! I get out of The Empty and I'm kidnapped, strung up and tortured in the woods!”

Castiel gasped loudly. “Dove!”

Angrily she got to her feet and tugged up her sleeves. Castiel rushed forward, starting to become hysterical himself. “ Dove ! Wha—how— what?! ”

“I'm wrong,” Dove said, looking up at her Castiel. “I'm wrong! All I’ve ever known is pain, and the only answer I can come up with as to how that’s fair is that If I have to be incorrect; I’m a mistake! If I wasn't wrong then God wouldn't have forsaken me, I wouldn't have been banished, forgotten—I wouldn't have to have shoot my friends in DC because they became zombies, wouldn't have had my child hidden from me, wouldn't have been beaten and nearly raped! I'm worthless, Cas! Worthless !”

Castiel pulled her into her arms. Cas stood there, stunned. After a point he just felt downright uncomfortable. He wanted to ask if his counterpart had the situation handled. There was a very real threat of Dove losing control, of unleashing the anger demon she had unintentionally manifested all those thousands of years ago. If that happened, well…Cas suddenly wasn’t so sure he would be much help, anyway. So Cas decided on one better. He wordlessly excused himself, rushing down the hallway. He didn’t stop until he frantically rapped on Raven’s door.

“What?” she asked, throwing open the door and sounding immediately worried.

Cas was flabbergasted. “How did you not feel all of that?”

“Feel what?”

“You mother is having an absolute meltdown and I’m genuinely afraid she’s going to wipe Kansas off the map, and your father currently isn’t doing much better–”

Raven immediately ran off down the hallway. Cas sighed.

“Raven!”

“I’ve been blocking it out as best I could because everyone’s tensions have been too high!” Raven called over her shoulder. “I’ve been dealing with mom’s, and Dean’s, and Sam’s, and yours–”

“Just—make sure they’re alright okay?!” he called as she disappeared around a corner.

Cas hesitated, still feeling overwhelmed. When he was sure Raven wasn’t going to come back for whatever reason, and didn’t hear any signs that Dove had lost control of herself, Cas stalked down the hallway. He came to stop in front of the door he wanted and knocked on it.

“Dean, open up.”

No answer. Annoyed, Cas knocked again, louder. “Dean–open the damn door.”

Still nothing. Pissed, Cas started pounding on it.

“Dean, open up this God forsaken door–”

The door flew open. Dean had one hand on a pair of earphones. He looked annoyed and bothered. “What?”

Cas frowned deeply. “You need to talk to Dove.”

Dean rolled his eyes and started shutting the door. Cas shot his hand out and stopped the door from closing. Dean co*cked an eyebrow.

“Dean,” Cas said, and Dean’s entire demeanor changed, seeing how utterly serious Cas was.

“What happened?” Dean asked, sounding fearful. Without even meaning to, he showed his true colors. “Is Dove alright?”

“I’m not going to sugar coat it—no.”

Dean looked panicked. When he tried leaving the room, Cas wouldn’t let him.

“She needs you more than you know, Dean. I know she’s pushing you away but it’s because she’s hurt , Dean. She’s really, really hurt, and she needs you.”

Dean’s lips parted, expressions colliding over his face as he processed several different emotions. Finally he swallowed and nodded seriously.

“Dean,” Cas said, pressing on his shoulder when he tried to walk away. “Try not to make her angry.”

“Right, like that’s so easy. I breathe lately and it’s wrong in her eyes.”

“Hey,” Cas said gently. “I’m serious.”

Dean’s green eyes traced over Cas’ face. Swallowing hard he nodded.

“Whatever she needs, give it to her. That includes space until she’s ready to talk.”

“Got it,” Dean replied softly, clearly shaken up.

Cas let go of his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Dean nodded. Without any other advisem*nt, Cas turned around and shuffled down the hall, running a hand through his hair.

Chapter 22

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Dean had tried to seek out Dove immediately. However, he took one look at what awaited him when he turned the corner, and promptly turned back around, rushing away. The family–Dove, Castiel, and Raven–were clinging to each other, crying in the middle of the hallway.

Dean was flabbergasted. He had always known how volatile Dove was. This though? Cas had been right in suggesting Dean talk to Dove. Whatever had gone on was beyond their mutual beef over Dean sleeping with Shannon and Dove sleeping with Negan, There was something seriously wrong. It hurt Dean a bit when he knew Dove needed her family right then, and that didn’t include him.

The shame that came with that made him want to do better. He had to do better. Dean only hoped it wasn’t too little, too late.

Dean decided the best course of action would be to wait. He asked Cas to keep tabs on Dove; he genuinely didn’t want to intrude on whatever was happening, but he also believed Cas that Dove needed him. So, it wasn’t until the early evening after dinner that Dove finally sought out Dean.

“You wanted to see me?”

Dean lifted his head from where he had been laying on his bed, headphones nestled against his ears, book at hand. Dove stood at his open door. She looked like crap; her eyes were still red-rimmed, the eyelids puffy. Her face had some residual red splotches from crying so hard. It broke Dean’s heart to see her like that.

He flipped his book over onto the bed and slid off the headphones, lips parted in surprise. “Dove.”

“Cas said you wanted something,” Dove said, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Um. Yeah. I uh–” Before he could continue, Dean jumped to his feet and rushed over. “sh*t, Dove, are you okay?”

He winced when that evidently had been the wrong thing to ask. He was grateful when she managed to keep her temper in check. She crossed her arms and lifted both eyebrows, leaning against the doorframe. She gave a derisive laugh.

“No, Dean, I am not.”

“I’m sorry.”

She kept one eyebrow raised. “For?”

“Everything.”

“Everything is a lot, Dean,” she replied flatly.

Dean let out a heavy sigh. “I mean–us.”

Dove tucked some hair behind her ear and looked at the floor. “That’s still a lot, Dean.”

Before Dean could reply, Dove tisked and shook her head. She looked up at the ceiling, stubbornly holding back tears. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

“I might be dumb but I'm not stupid,” Dean said, a bitter edge to it. Then, softer, “I really, really didn't meant to hurt you.”

“Wrong.”

Dean blinked. “Wrong?”

Angrily Dove yanked up her right sleeve and shoved it into his face. “Not once did you check in with me!”

Gasping, Dean grabbed her arm. “What the f*ck is this?! Dove!”

“Not once did you see what the hell I went through after I got out of The Empty!”

Normally Dean would have started up a stubborn argument, that he had . That he offered an ear time and time again. But Dean was too horrified at the scars all over her arm to do anything more than gawk.

“Dove,” he said, voice trembling. “Did you do this to yourself?”

She laughed and yanked her arm away. “No.”

All at once Dean saw red. “Who did this?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Oh, it matters,” Dean said in a low, deadly, serious voice. “ Who. Did. This?”

Dove crossed her arms and turned her head away.

“Was it Negan?!”

Her head snapped back around. “ What ?! God—no—it wasn't Negan! He'd never!”

“Tell me who did this to you!”

“Why? So you can snap their neck?”

Dean gave a chilling laugh. “Oh, me snapping their neck is gonna be the least of their worries.”

“They're probably dead already.”

“Probably, or are?”

“I don't know, okay?!” Dove shouted, and then burst into tears.

Dean felt like he had whiplash at how quickly her emotion changed.

“I don't know! I was knocked out, and when I woke up I was safe with my people, and—”

Dean held up his hand and spoke gently. “Slow down. Can we start from the beginning? Please?”

Dove took a deep, shuddering breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. Wiping off her face, she gave a curt nod.

“I was taken when we tried to infiltrate a group that was killing people. They tried to recruit me by force. Tied me up, whipped me.”

Dean's eyes widened. “Where?”

“It doesn't matter—”

“Where are you hurt? Dammit, Dove, can we knock off the bullsh*t now?!” Then, a little bit softer, “Please?”

Sniffing, Dove turned completely around. Wordlessly she took off her shirt entirely. Dean wasn't prepared for the state her bare back was in, and he couldn't help but gasp.

“Dove,” he barely breathed out.

She turned around, arms crossed over her bra modestly. Her face burned red in shame. Without thinking, Dean reached out and moved her hair behind her ear. Then he pressed his palm to her cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.

“Oh, Dove…”

Dove shuddered at his touch. Biting her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand.

“Why haven't you healed yourself?”

Dove opened her eyes, tears standing in them. She spoke fiercely with determination. “I was assaulted at a party. Shortly after was when I was kidnapped. I was weak in both instances—this is a reminder to myself to never be weak again.”

“Dove,” Dean said, and when he blinked a single tear coursed down his cheek. “You're not weak.”

Then, not really knowing what he was doing at all, Dean silently reached inside of himself, tapping into his angelic grace. He focused on how he felt about Dove, focused on how he wanted to protect her; focused on how no matter what he was never letting her go again. He took all these things, these thoughts and emotions, and he focused it outward. Dean tried to think of her being whole, being healed.

Dean didn't realize his eyes had started to glow.

Dove gasped. “Dean—what're you doing?”

Dean slowly moved his hands up both of her arms. As his palms lightly passed over her flesh, it was like he was taking an eraser to the scars. She gasped again, watching in awe as Dean healed her.

He had never done that before. Dove didn't even know he knew how to do that.

“Dean!”

Dean stepped forward and hugged her tightly, closing his eyes. Where he touched her back, fingers fanned out, the scars disappeared from her like a wave moving outward. When she was healed, Dean opened his eyes; they were no longer glowing.

Dove yelped when Dean started to fall, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

“Dean!”

She sank down into the ground with the passed out man. Panicking, not understanding what was happening, she did the only thing that felt right to her right then.

“CAS!”

The sheer amount of panic and fear that came out of her like a sonic wave alerted both Castiels. She hadn't thought to specify which one, hadn't even done so in her thoughts. As such, they appeared immediately at her side.

Both were temporarily confounded at the sight of Dove, kneeling on the ground in just a black bra, jeans, and boots. Then they noticed Dean and gasped at the same time.

“Dean!” they said at the same time, kneeling.

“What happened?” Cas asked.

“I d'no,” Dove said, trying to get a grip before she became hysterical. “He healed me.”

“What?” Castiel asked in disbelief, staring at her.

“Look,” she said, holding out both arms, twisting them side to side to show off the unmarked skin. “He healed me and then fainted.”

“I do not faint,” Dean said suddenly, slowly, his eyes fluttering for a moment. Squeezing his eyes shut a moment, he then blinked rapidly. “Holy f*ck I'm dizzy.”

Cas chuckled, relieved. “I'm guessing he's never healed anyone before?”

“Never,” Castiel replied.

Cas patted Dean's shoulder and then got to his feet. “You'll be fine. You over-exerted yourself.” He then wagged his finger playfully. “I said talk to her, not make yourself faint.”

“I don't faint,” Dean protested again.

A laugh bubbled out of Dove. Surprising everyone, she threw herself at Dean and hugged him. Laughing again she leaned back then and hit him on the shoulder lightly.

“Don't ever scare me like that again!”

Once Dean recovered from the shock of the hug, he grinned at her and laughed.

Chapter 23

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Dean lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was getting harder and harder to sleep. After becoming an angel, he no longer needed the human necessities like sleep, food, and water. He still liked to sleep when he could since it was a rare occurrence when he was human, but as of lately, sleep has been evading him for a different reason.

He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, he noted that it was nearly three in the morning. He sighed and stood up, deciding to go to the kitchen and grab a beer. What he didn’t realize was Dove was awake with the same problem.

Dove sat in the kitchen watching the chamomile tea swirl as she stirred it. The aroma filled her nostrils and made her smile, almost instantly making her feel calmer. Holding the mug between her hands, she stared into the darkness of the room, trying to sift through the mess in her head. Sleepless nights were beginning to be a nightly thing. No matter how hard she'd try to sleep, she would lay awake at night thinking about Dean.

Dove took a sip of tea and sighed, wondering if it was too late for them to mend things, even as just friends. They had gone way past the point of right and wrong with their arguments and all out brawl fighting. How could they come back from what they had created?

Footsteps behind Dove startled her out of her thoughts and she turned to see who was up at that hour of the night.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone would be awake,” Dean said, and turned to go.

Dove figured now was as good a time as any. No one was awake, so they could talk in private as long as she could keep her jealous rage in check.

“Dean,” Dove said quietly before he walked away. When he turned around, she gestured to the seat across from her. “Want to talk?”

He hesitated, staring at Dove as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. When she said nothing else, he cleared his throat and walked to the fridge to grab a beer. Sitting across from Dove, he popped the cap off and took a long drink. They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes until they both tried talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

Dove huffed and looked away, avoiding his gaze. The guilt she'd been shoving down with the pain and anger all began to rise. She swallowed and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to keep herself calm.

“Before we start, there’s something you should know,” Dove started, opening her eyes.

Dean was already looking at her. He looked down and nodded, waiting for some sort of heartbreaking blow.

“I never slept with Negan,” she finally admitted.

Dean’s eyes snapped up. Hurt and confused, his brow furrowed as he processed the words.

“Why would you tell me you did?” he asked.

“I didn’t. You assumed, and I didn’t correct you.”

Dove watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “Why?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with pain.

“Because I wanted you to hurt as much as I was.”

“I never wanted to be someone who hurt you, Dove.”

Dean’s eyes glistened with the unshed tears he held back. He took a drink, trying to hide them. Dove stared at her tea; it no longer swirled as the liquid had settled.

“I want to stop fighting. I want the pain to stop. I want to stop hurting,” Dove spoke quietly, swallowing down tears. “I’m not asking for us to be together, but I don’t want to keep hating each other, either.”

“I never hated you. I could never hate you.”

She kept her eyes on the table, not wanting him to see her cry.

“You weren’t giving up and I surely wasn’t giving in,” Dean continued. “Neither of us wanted to be the one to go to the other, to swallow our pride, and look what we ended up doing in the process.”

Dove looked up at him, wiping her tears as he continued to talk.

“We not only ripped each other's hearts out, we hurt those around us by our hateful and spiteful words and actions.”

Dove nodded, reaching for a napkin to dab her eyes.

“The way we’ve been living, it has to stop. We’re going to tear our family apart,” he said, bouncing his knee.

“I don’t think...” Dove took a deep breath as the words she was trying to get out turned into a silent sob. She sucked in the sob as she quickly spoke. “I don’t know that I can be friends with you, Dean.”

“You think I want to be just friends?”

“How do we go from throwing each other through walls to being in a relationship? If that’s not the most toxic thing in the world, I don’t know what is.”

“We don’t. We just follow where life takes us.”

“And if that’s apart? If you decide to go back to Shannon or—”

“Alright, let’s get one thing straight before we go any further. Shannon happened, I can’t take that back and honestly, I could have felt something for her if I wasn’t trying to forget about you.”

Dove wasn’t sure if she should be hurt or happy with his words.

“Well, if you decide to move on…” Dove said. “I won’t be able to watch you holding someone else. I can’t walk into a room, or a bar, and see you dancing with someone else the way you danced with me...the way you looked at me. The—Dean, I can’t. It hurts. It hurts so damn bad knowing you just, I don’t know, moved on.”

“You don’t think it hurts knowing you felt something for that Negan guy?”

Dove stared at him as her tears fell. “We really did a number on each other.”

Dean nodded, reaching over and catching a tear with his thumb. “I believe we can get past it though.”

Dove wiped her eyes with the napkin and slowly breathed out, trying to prevent herself from crying any harder. “Do you, honestly?”

Dean got up and knelt in front of her. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. “Here’s the thing,” he began. “I love you. And before you say anything, let me finish.”

She nodded.

“I know I love you because I’m scared.” He laughed nervously. “I have never been so scared of anything in my life and I’ve fought demons and the damn devil himself. Losing you again, Dove, it will break me. I won’t come back from it. So, before we move forward from this conversation, I need to know. Are we working towards possibly a relationship or are we just friends? Because I don’t know if I can be just friends for the rest of my life with you.”

“There’s so much we need to talk about, Dean. Jumping into something would be stupid and reckless.”

He rested his hands on her thighs and looked in her eyes. “All I’m asking is that we try. It doesn’t have to be today. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. But I know we were made for each other, Dove. I never even batted an eye when I’d leave girls from the bar in the middle of the night. I knew I’d never see them again; I knew I wouldn’t be calling them in the morning. But with you? I was crazy about you when I first met you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, no matter how many girls I went home with.”

Dove raised a brow, not really wanting to hear about his sexcapades.

“And you’re right,” he continued rambling, “it’s what I do. I move to the next girl to forget. Only you? You were the one I couldn’t forget. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget.” He chuckled and looked off to the side, suddenly blushing.

“What?” she asked curiously.

“I apparently called Shannon by your name. That was when she realized things with me would never be serious.”

Dove's lips parted and then closed as she tried to hold off a smile.

“Since we’re being honest here,” shs began, licking her lips, wondering why she was even admitting this. “While things were just starting, it was the second time I was going to give in to Negan. The first time, we were interrupted and felt nothing but guilt afterwards.” Her eyes dropped off to the side, looking at the floor. Dean squeezed her thighs, letting her know it was ok to continue. “We had only gotten a little further and I called him Dean.”

“During it?” Dean’s brows shot up and his eyes widened in both shock and amusem*nt.

She nodded and hid her face in her hands, feeling humiliated.

Dean’s fingers wrapped around her wrists and gently pulled her hands from my face. “I’m not going to say I want to hear about you messing around with some guy, but I will admit that knowing you calling him by my name is what stopped it all makes me happy.”

Dove looked back and forth between his eyes, feelings for him just as strong as they were the night they were dancing, the night they shared their first kiss...the night she was taken into The Empty...And she knew she’d want to at least see if they could try working things out.

“Come on,” Dean said. “Since we’re both wide awake, let’s go watch a movie.”

Dean pulled her up and they walked through the halls to the TV room. They sat down on the couch together and he turned a movie on, but neither Dove nor Dean would be able to say what movie they watched because they both fell asleep quickly, Dove in Dean's arms.

Cas had been worried for several reasons. Sure, he felt a little guilty having kept an eye on Dove all day. Yes, he was basically spying on Dean too, tailing him as well. But he wanted to monitor their exchanges, not only for his own selfish reasons of wanting his garrison to be a streamlined unit without any kinks, but because he feared for Dove's wellbeing (as well as those around her).

So he was more than curious when they had run into each other in the kitchen, and then the conversation had gone how it had, and he followed them down the hallway to where the TV was. He stood by the doorway peering into the room, watching over them as they both fell into the first deep sleep that either had experienced since coming to Cas’ universe. He smiled to himself and quietly slipped away, leaving them to their slumber.

Chapter 24

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Raven couldn't sleep. It was rare for her, luckily blessed to have been born lacking the anxiety both her parents had that resulted in insomnia from time to time. She wasn't impervious to the occasional sleep disturbance, especially when it came to her mother. What had happened shook her to her core. She had never seen her mother that upset. Raven never wanted to see her mother like that again.

Her father had told her bits and pieces of what her mother was like over the years. He had always told her everything tactfully, careful to not overwhelm Raven and also to not cast Dove in poor light. Even so, Raven was aware of the darkness that lurked within the pink-graced angel, and it was, frankly, frightening.

Fear aside, she also wanted to help her mother. But…How could she possibly fix something of that magnitude? Furthermore, even if she had any clue where to even begin , what could she do that wasn't putting herself in danger? It was a maddening situation all around.

Raven was startled when the lights were flipped on. She was further startled when she had a gun leveled at her, and a very freaked out Sam looking at her. As soon as he realized who it was, he sighed heavily, clicked the safety on, and lowered his weapon.

“Jesus, Raven. You gave me a heart attack.”

Raven blushed and melted down into her seat a bit, waving her fingers in an embarrassed greeting. Sam shook his head and walked forward, carefully setting his weapon down on the library table before sitting down across from her.

“It's a good thing I didn't blast you in the face.”

“Agreed,” she said flatly.

“What're you doing, sitting in the dark, anyway?”

“Thinking,” she replied truthfully, sitting back up.

Sam glanced at his wrist watch and threw her an RBF. “At three in the morning?”

Raven shrugged and looked away for a moment. Then she swiveled her head back and looked equally defensive and curious. “What're you doing up?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Couldn't sleep,” he mumbled.

Raven was concerned. “Why?”

He looked at her sheepishly, a look that showed he didn't want to talk about it. Something in him caved though, and he shared something about himself no one knew except for his brother.

“Nightmares.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I'm sorry.”

Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well, night terrors, actually. Sleep paralysis too.” He chuckled. “Fun stuff, yaknow?”

“What about?” Raven asked without thinking.

Sam opened and closed his mouth several times. He wanted to be pissed at the personal question, but he found he couldn't. Not at Raven. So instead he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Lots of things. My mom. My dad. Dean. Killing things. Dying. Things that happened to me in Hell, things that happened to me in Purgatory.”

“What was tonight about?” Raven asked.

Sam tried to speak but once again couldn't find his voice right away. He clenched his jaw a few times, steeling himself. It was only when he had this reaction did Raven understand she may have stepped over a line.

“I'm sorry,” she said quickly, “if you don't wanna talk about it—”

Sam smiled kindly. “It's okay.”

She was shocked. She screwed up her face. “It is?”

Sam chuckled. “I mean, it's not, but…I was dreaming that Lucifer wasn't actually dead and had tracked me down in Purgatory.”

Raven frowned. “I'm sorry.”

Sam gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Er, what about you?”

Raven deflated a little and sat back. As she spoke she looked at her lap. “I'm worried about my mom.”

“Oh. That. Right.”

Raven didn't reply.

“Er…do you wanna talk about it?”

Raven glanced at Sam, but then shook her head.

Sam nodded. “That's fine.”

She looked at him. “I'm sorry, Sam, it's not that I don't want to, it's—”

Sam held up a hand. “It's okay, really Raven. You don't have to say anything.”

Raven slowly closed her mouth. The way Sam was looking at her, with kindness, and patience, made a blush creep onto her cheeks. Either Sam ignored it or was oblivious. Either way, he just continued to smile at her, ignoring her reddened cheeks.

“I want you to know that whenever you need to talk, you can come get me, okay?”

Raven was startled. His proclamation just made her blush more. Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Sam got to his feet then.

“I just don't know what to do,” Raven blurted out, fearful he would leave.

He didn't. Instead he paused, looking at her.

“I wanna help her, I just don't know how,” she said quietly, and bowed her head.

For a long while Sam didn't answer. Raven wasn't even sure he was still there after a point. Clenching her hands into fists, she stared at her lap, willing herself to not cry.

“Sometimes you don't need to try to fix anything; sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there for someone,” Sam finally said.

When Raven lifted her, a tear rolled down her cheek. Sam came around the table and pulled her into a hug. Embarrassed, she hugged his arm.

“Thanks, Sam,” she said meekly.

Sam pulled away and looked down at her, smiling faintly. “Try to get some sleep, Raven.”

He left.

~

In general, Cas thought both Winchesters, Dean and his brother, were actually very well adapted, all things considered. Of course there were tells for both of them of what actually lurked beneath their surface. Cas knew them for what they were; hardened criminals. Just because they fought relentlessly for the greater good didn't detract from the sociopaths that laid just below.

It peeked out sometimes; Dean looking proud when he landed a particularly good blow. Sam's expression changing into one of bloodlust as he fought, a glint in his eye showing he enjoyed fighting. Then there were the even more subtle tells—neither flinching from following through difficult directives. Risk taking behavior (more so Dean than Sam, but Cas was well aware of Sam's stint of drinking demon blood). Impulsivity. The general lack of restraint either showed when their heart was really in something. When they were fully invested, there was literally no stopping them.

It was a little scary, sometimes, if Cas was being honest.

But then again, he used to enjoy psychologically torturing fallen angels and had killed innocent humans in the name of God—who in the f*ck was he to judge anyone?

So that was why, as he paced back and forth in the warehouse, hands folded behind him as he watched his garrison tear into one another, he felt zero remorse making the Winchesters do this thing for him. Cas knew they had both willing volunteered. He wouldn't have accepted their help otherwise. But the fact remained he was happy to have two literal killing machines in his arsenal when he plunged head-first into Hell to save his lover.

Dean hadn't spoken in so long Cas was starting to fear he was permanently broken. He wouldn't be surprised; he was born into the hunting life, seen things that defied all logic, done things he could never forget. He was raised to be an efficient, cold-blooded killer. Trauma was a life source for Dean and his brother. In a life like that, of course Dean would be unable to speak after losing Sam, the one constant in his life he had ever known.

Cas was proud Dean hadn't lost his mind completely. He wanted to keep it that way. Which was why he led Dean through the winding streets of Seoul, South Korea. He desperately wanted to show Dean there was pulsating life all around him. There were people, good people, from all different walks of life, all over every inch of the world, who were worth fighting for. Worth living for. Worth opening his eyes for in the morning.

Cas had worried the bustle of the busy city would have been too overwhelming for Dean. But honestly, the food of South Korea? Some of the best. Cas would have felt foolish dragging Dean around the ends of the world and not showing him this magnificent city and all it had to offer.

Sure, Seoul wasn't perfect. He made it a point of making sure he didn't show any sort of outward affection towards Dean, no more than a brief hand-holding to tug him somewhere, or bumping into his shoulder and smiling. But then again every society had its upsides, and its downsides, and Cas wasn't here to judge anyone—he was there to try to get Dean to feel alive.

Dean had enjoyed himself greatly that trip. It had been a very long time since Cas had seen Dean smile so much. Truthfully he reminded Cas of a child, eyes open wide, head swiveling back and forth, trying to take as much in at once, as much as he possibly could. They had stayed out late that trip, and Dean seemed memorized by the flashing city lights.

“Have you never been to New York?” Cas had asked, realizing his reaction probably meant Dean had never really been in a metropolitan area at night.

Dean sort of shrugged. Cas wasn't sure exactly what that meant—had he? He knew his hunting had brought him to places like Chicago, Detroit. But Cas wondered, and now assumed, there was never an opportunity to really live the metropolis. Cas was sure it was just business, in and out, head down.

Cas was happy he could give this experience to Dean.

Cas never wanted to stop giving Dean reasons to live.

Cas stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, then signaled everyone to stop what they were doing and focus on him.

“Training has gone very well,” Cas said loud enough for everyone to easily hear him. “I feel like we're almost prepared. As the time draws closer, I am going to push you even harder.

“This hasn't been hard?” Dean commented off to the side, giving a lopsided grin. Some of the angels around him laughed.

Cas rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. Instead he snapped his fingers at Dean and then glared, pointing at the ground several times.

“Ugh. Yes sir, sorry sir,” Dean said, getting down and immediately cranking out pushups.

“This is going to be different. I have grouped you thus far, more or less, with those you are at an even keel with. The time for niceties is done with. At the end of today, a new regime will be posted at the door. Make sure you check it on your way out.”

“Yes sir,” everyone said in unison (even Dean, who was still doing pushups).

When the day was done, there was a jam at the door. There was silence as everyone looked at the new training regimen. Everyone filed out in an orderly fashion. Dean, Castiel, Raven, Dove, and Sam all hung back, waiting until they were last to view the chart. With everyone else gone, Raven felt comfortable addressing Cas in a more relaxed manner, or questioning him period.

“Uncle Cas, I think you made a mistake on the LT list.”

“There were no mistakes on the Lethal Training list,” he replied evenly, referring to the unit where people weren't to stop fighting unless they had the opportunity to kill the other.

Raven hesitated and bit her lower lip. “But…You have mom and I paired together.”

Cas raised both eyebrows. “So?”

“Cas,” Dove started to protest as well. “I can't attack my own daughter!”

“You can, and you will,” he said seriously.

Dove and Raven exchanged worried looks.

Dean laughed and pointed at his own name on the same list. He looked at Cas, eyebrows raised. “Really Cas? Really?”

Cas crossed his arms and stood with his feet spread apart, looking co*cky. “I said this was going to be hard training, did I not?”

“You pitted best friends against each other, too,“ Sam commented with a snort.

Dean grinned at Sam. “Don't think because you're a human I'll go easy on you.”

Sam grinned. “Don't assume because you're an angel you'll win.”

The pair grinned and left. Looking not so at ease, Dove and Raven followed them out. Castiel was last to check the list. He snorted and shook his head. He looked at Cas and smirked.

“See you at the bunker?” Castiel asked.

Cas smiled. “See you at the bunker.”

Castiel disappeared. Looking over the list he had made and feeling proud of it, Cas disappeared shortly after.

LT-

Winters - - R. Winters

Winchester - - S. Winchester

Castiel - - General Castiel

~

Everyone was asleep. Sam had made sure of it. He triple checked, in fact. At the very least everyone seemed to be preoccupied with rest; the entire bunker was filled with angels laying down on their beds in their rooms. Regardless, he knew if he was sneaky enough and took the right precautions, no one would disturb him in the basem*nt.

His face lit up as he struck a match. Pausing for just a second, Sam flicked his wrist and tossed it into a metal bowl.

“Moose. What an unpleasant surprise.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Crowley. “We need to talk.”

Chapter 25

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas was dreaming.

“DEAN!”

Cas looked up from where he sat in an armchair, reading. Dean sat across the way, laptop in his lap. The elder Winchester completely ignored Sam when he came barreling into the room. Sam’s face was red, and Cas raised an eyebrow when he noticed he held a pint of what he assumed was ice cream in his hand.

“Whazzup, Sammy?” Dean said without even raising his head.

Sam rolled his eyes heavily and flicked his head, moving a piece of hair out of his eyes. He held up the container. “Thanks for the cherry frozen yogurt you got me, that was really thoughtful of you.”

“Yuh-huh,” Dean said, still staring pointedly at the screen.

Sam tried to open the treat but didn't manage. Looking exasperated and livid, he said, “So care to tell me why in the f*ck I can’t get it open?”

Dean glanced at Sam. “Sure. I super glued it shut.”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Dean finally lost his composure and cracked up. He set the laptop beside him and clapped, curling up laughing.

Sam looked pissed still. “Oh yeah, Dean, real funny. I actually thought you had done something nice for me and here we are.”

“I’m sure if you took the cleaver in the kitchen and cut off the bottom, you could eat it from the bottom up.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room. Dean just laughed.

Cas was abruptly awoken from his dream to the distinct sounds of fighting. He only knew of a handful of people who could cause such a ruckus. As such he kicked off the covers, pissed, and made his way through the bunker and outside. Once the night’s air hit his face, his hunch was confirmed. Off in the field behind the bunker, Dove and Dean were fighting.

“Hey!” he screamed. “You have got to be f*cking kidding me!”

He stalked towards them and then cut to the chase, suddenly appearing besides them and holding Dean by the arm.

“Hey man,” Dean started to talk but Cas shook him.

“What the hell are you two doing?! I thought everything was going fine? I thought—”

“Cas,” Dove started, but he didn’t stop.

“I can’t have this. I can’t have the two of you constantly fighting. I can’t deal with it. I have other things to deal with. More important things—”

“Cas, hey man,” Dean tried again.

But Cas continued, thrusting out his arm and clenching his hand into a fist. As soon as he did, both Dean and Dove were yanked to one another by an invisible force.

“This is a matter of life and death. I have a life to save and dozens of others on the line that are going in to help save Dean. I can’t be worried about your f*ckery while worrying about people dying.”

“Cas!” Dean and Dove both yelled at the same time.

“NO!” Cas yelled back. He stood directly in front of them, pointing in their faces. “You’ve f*cked up enough!”

“Cas, I love you but so help my God, if you don’t get that finger out of my face, I will bite it off,” Dove threatened.

Cas finally closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes to a glare, glowing brightly with grace.

“Did you just threaten me?” he asked in a terrifying tone.

“Release me,” Dove demanded, not using her own powers as a sign of subtle submission to him.

“Cas, we aren’t fi—” Dean started but Cas held his hand up, not removing his eyes from Dove’s.

Cas took a menacing step towards her, placing his hand around her neck, squeezing. She swallowed but didn’t break eye contact.

“I don’t take threats lightly,” Cas said calmly but firmly.

“Then shut the hell up and listen to us!” Dove snapped back at him, pushing her neck into his hand, showing him she wasn’t worried about him choking her.

“Cas, we’re not fighting. We’re training,” Dean said quickly while he and Dove were quiet.

Cas’ hold around Dove’s neck weakened as he looked at Dean, questioning his words. He looked back at Dove and then let go, releasing the invisible hold on the pair.

“You weren’t actually fighting?”

“No,” Dove said, rubbing her neck. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I,” Dean added.

“He found me getting ready to go for a run and decided to come along,” Dove continued. “Then we decided to take it up a notch.”

Cas listened, continuing to look back and forth between the pair. When nothing more was said, he looked mortified.

“Oh.” Cas took a step back. “I, uh, apologize, I guess.”

Dove could tell he was becoming quite uncomfortable but there was no need for it. He was right to react the way he did, with how Dean and Dove had been fighting recently. So, Dove decided to have a little laugh.

“Heya, Cas?” she grinned, co*cking a brow.

“Dove, I’m truly sor—”

Dove took a step towards him and grabbed his throat. “Next time you grab me by my throat, you’d better be killing me or f*cking me.”

His eyes widened and then snapped to Dean. Dean was doubled over laughing at Cas being speechless.

“I don’t think he’s been speechless this entire time,” Dean said through laughter.

Cas cleared his throat and stepped out of Dove's grasp.

“That’s my fault. I jumped to conclusions and assumed there was more to this training,” Cas said, looking around.

At first Dove worried she had taken it too far, saying what she said. Until he raised his eyes to hers, stood taller, and said, “I’ll remember the warning about the throat. And I promise I won’t kill you.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving Dove standing there, laughing.

Dean stood straight, his eyes on Cas’ back. “Did he—” he turned and looked at Dove. “Was Cas flirting with you?”

Dove laughed loudly. “That’s not flirting. That’s playful banter and no, don’t worry, Dean,” she booped his nose, “Cas is so gay for the other Dean.”

Dove began walking off the field, in the direction Cas left.

“But,” Dean continued, walking after her, “Cas has had orgies. He’s definitely into chicks, too.”

Dove rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling. She knew Cas would have a comeback or some way to get back at her eventually. She’d have to stay on her toes and watch her back around him now, but she had to admit that she felt much better, great even. It was the best she had felt since emerging from The Empty. She was back with family, friends, and both Castiel's who knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.

She was home.

~

“You need to, I don't.”

Sam looked pointedly at the devil's trap he had made on the ground. Crowley looked down and sighed heavily.

“I'm very tired of this cat and mouse game. If your angel has come to collect on the threat of bodily harm to me let's just get it over with. Truthfully I'm a bit surprised he hasn't tried anything yet.”

Sam shrugged. “He's been busy. We've all been busy.”

Looking utterly impatient, Crowley said flatly, “What do you want, Sam?”

“Does the name Gavin mean anything to you?”

“No.”

Sam's eyebrows shot up. “No? Really?”

Crowley stood there, looking bored.

“Gavin MacLeod doesn't ring any bells?”

“That was a long time ago, Sam,” Crowley replied with just a touch of ice to it.

Sam stepped forward. “So if I were to tell you I've been in contact with him, you wouldn't care at all?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “No, Moose, I wouldn't. I hated the child. Worst mistake I ever made.”

Sam was genuinely surprised by that. Crowley folded his hands in front of him, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Don't look so shocked, Moose. It's what we MacLeods do—we hate our offspring.”

Sam didn't reply.

Crowley rolled his eyes then. “Look, I don't know what you were expecting. Maybe some sort of big emotion at the reveal that you know I had a son? Maybe you thought I'd drop to my knees and start weeping, overcome by the fact you had spoken to my long-dead, idiotic offspring? Well, sorry to disappoint, love, but I don't see a point to any of this.”

“Ah,” Sam said, crossing his arms and taking a couple of steps away, back to Crowley. He paused a moment and turned back around. “So the fact that your son is the one who buried your body and told me where your grave is over in Scotland doesn't bother you?”

All at once Crowley looked evil and deadly. He was so angry, in fact, his eyes flashed their burgundy red for just a moment, wisps of red smoke emitting from them. Then they looked normal, getting his temper under control.

“What do you want, Winchester?”

Sam crossed the space between them in three long strides. He abruptly halted just before the trap, making sure not to cross it. It took all of his willpower to not lunge at Crowley, pull him close. Instead he spoke, nostrils flared with his eyes narrowed and deadly.

“You listen here, you little sh*t. We're going to collect Dean from Alistair.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Why wouldn't you?”

Sam reached forward then and did grab Crowley, yanking him forward. “I've seen a map of Hell. The most direct route to the inner chambers where Dean is held is a hallway that leads directly from your throne room. You're going to not only allow us access, but you're going to do your best to clear a path for us.”

Crowley glared. “I will give you access to my chamber and that's it.”

Sam shook him. “You will clear a path.”

“I can't!” Crowley snarled loudly. “Even if I could, I wouldn't! You should be grateful I'm even doing that for you!”

“What the f*ck is this?”

Both men were startled. Sam looked over his shoulder; Raven stood there. She looked pissed.

“Hello, darling,” Crowley drolled.

Raven strode across the room and pointed at Sam. She was livid. “Release him.”

“Raven, I—”

When it was obvious he was going to try to talk his way out of whatever was happening, Raven was having none of it. She struck her arm out and flicked her wrist; Sam was forcefully yanked to the side well out of the way.

“Ooo,” Crowley said with a smile as Raven advanced on him. “I like you.”

Raven walked into the circle, grabbed Crowley by the throat, and lifted him off his feet, holding him above her head. Her eyes glowed purple, dark wings unfurling and shimmering purple.

“You do not speak to me,” she growled in a low, shaking voice. “You f*cked Dean over and I will never, ever forgive you for that.”

Crowley opened his mouth but she cut him off, shaking him back and forth violently. “Do not whine at me about contracts. The only reason I don't rip you apart limb from f*cking limb right now is because it would start a war between Heaven and Hell.”

Raven looked between Sam and Crowley. “Whatever this is, it ends now.”

Raven roughly put Crowley on his feet. Not giving him an inch, she stuck her face into his, noses literally touching. “I know Uncle Cas already said he's going to kill you, but that's only if I don't get to you first.”

Crowley adjusted his tie. “On second thought, I don't like you.”

Raven waved her hand and the trap disappeared. She glared. “Go home, Crowley.” She waved again and Crowley disappeared.

“Raven—”

Raven spun around and stalked towards Sam. He scrambled away until he was smooshed up against the wall he had been tossed towards. He flinched. Raven blinked and her eyes stopped glowing; folding her wings and making them invisible, she then smacked Sam upside the head.

“Hey, ow—”

“What is wrong with you Winchesters?!” She ranted. “Why must you go running headlong into bad situations? Why do you create bad situations? Why do you—”

“I know where his bones are!”

Raven slammed her mouth shut and blinked, surprised.

Sam relaxed a bit. “I was using them as leverage for easier passage into the torture chambers in Hell. His throne room has a hallway that leads more or less directly to where we need to be.”

Raven paused, further stunned. Then, “How did you manage all that? ”

Sam looked proud. “Rowena.”

Raven's eyebrows shot up. “Rowena?”

Sam nodded. “For months we've been trying to get Dean out of the contract, right? I did a deep dive into Crowley’s background. Then it occurred to me—duh! He's Rowena’s son!”

Raven crossed her arms, looking intrigued. “Huh.”

“I also know they hate each other, and that they try to screw each other over regularly. So I asked her if she knew where he was buried—she didn't. Then we racked our brains to try to find some sort of weakness—that's when I found out Crowley has a son .”

Raven co*cked an eyebrow, now utterly entranced.

“She didn't think he'd be of much use because they also didn't have the best relationship. But then I thought it was worth a shot. So, we performed a séance, and after talking to Gavin a bit I realized he would know where Crowley’s bones are.”

Raven was speechless for a while. Then she laughed merrily and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. Still laughing she pulled away, holding his face in her hands.

“Sam! You're a genius!”

“Er, thanks.” He smirked. “But next time could you please let me explain myself before throwing me across the room?”

She pinched his cheek and crinkled her nose. “No.”

Sam gave her a sidelong look. “No?”

She shoved his face away roughly. “You were still an ignoramus for stepping into the trap with him. I feel like you guys forget how powerful he really is, like he's just some puppet to you.”

Sam shrugged. “He probably assumed that it didn't matter because I told everyone who would listen to me where his bones were, so doing anything to me would make people immediately get his bones and burn them. Seems like something I'd do, right?”

Sam started to walk away. Raven turned.

“And did you?”

Sam grinned at her. “No.”

Raven gave a cut-off shriek in frustration. Sam disappeared around the corner quickly, still smirking.

Chapter 26

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Dean hadn't shared any more thoughts with Alistair that “packed an emotional wallop”, not in the years since Dean had mentioned the song to the demon. It didn't matter how often Alistair taunted how Cas was better off without him. Didn't matter how Alistair backpedaled on that declaration, trying to convince Dean that he should behave because then Alistair will give Dean free reign, and he could even see Cas.

“Don't you want that, Deano?” Alistair would hiss, smug smile. “Don't you want to see your angel again?”

Of course he did. It was hard when Dean thought too much about Cas. He never did figure out if these memories were purged from his brain, squeezed out of him unwillingly, or if they just happened naturally. Regardless, Dean found himself trapped in his head sometimes, living in his own special mental Hell. Waking up next to Cas. Hands everywhere, tugging at t-shirts. Knowing Cas was there, feeling his comforting stare on his back; Dean smiling to himself before he turned around. Dean clinging to what he had with Cas, feeling like he was the only thing in the whole wide universe that could ground him and give him hope. Sometimes he simply remembered the quiet times, tea at the table, or watching a movie.

Dean didn't give in though.

Once, years ago, Alistair had shared with Dean his plans.

“Doesn't Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell, have an appealing ring to it?” Alistair had enticed.

Dean had chuckled, barely conscious. “No.”

No matter how many times Alistair peeled Dean's balls like grapes, no matter how many times he promised to bring Dean up to see Sammy, no matter how often he reminded Dean that Cas was out there, probably looking for him, it was never enough to get Dean to give in. He would never tarnish his soul, never lay a hand on anyone else. He could take the torture, all of it.

It was becoming harder to pretend the idea wasn't tantalizing, though.

Dean hated himself on days like that.

Alistair was taking a long, skinny, flexible rod, feeding it slowly under Dean's skin. Alistair would stop the progress occasionally, long enough to send an electric jolt through the metal. It was unpleasant, to say the least. It was better than the time Alistair had injected him with some sort of radioactive isotope and just let the nuclear product wreak havoc on his body. Not by much, but making better and worse comparison lists in his head helped Dean not go absolutely batsh*t insane. If he viewed his predicament in a scientific or clinical manner, it helped.

Sometimes.

Alistair seemed suddenly distracted. It was only for a moment, but Dean had spent enough time with the demon now that he knew all about him. He knew his tells, knew when he was having a good day versus a bad day. He could tell when his heart wasn't in what he was doing, when he was frustrated that Dean hadn't given in yet. So, even though it was just a nanosecond, Dean caught the fact that something had caught Alistair’s attention, and it wasn't Dean.

A few more minutes passed. Finally Alistair’s shoulders slumped.

“Good evening, Crowley.”

“Alistair.”

Dean lifted his head, squinting, nearly blind with pain. His vision swam, but sure as sh*t the King of Hell himself stood there.

“C-Crowley?”

Crowley looked mildly repulsed. Or maybe he didn't. Dean was so exhausted he wasn't sure if he trusted himself to know up from down. But for just a second Dean could have sworn he saw a flash of sympathy cross Crowley’s face.

Alistair let go of the torture device and turned around. “How can I help you, sir?”

Crowley shifted on his feet, taking a wider stance, arms folded in front of him. He tilted his head back slightly as he spoke.

“Dean was my contract. I'd like to see your work.”

Alistair looked bemused. “Slow day?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Watch it.”

Alistair sneered and gave a small bow. “I didn't mean to speak out of turn, King. I simply meant it's been years.”

“No it hasn't.”

Alistair gave him a withering look. “You know what I mean. I'm just surprised you've suddenly taken an interest in seeing my work.” He gave a mild gesture to Dean.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Slow day. What can I say?”

Dean didn't understand why from that day forward Crowley would pop in from time to time, especially since never stayed long. The hunter didn't know why the visits were short, if it was boredom or if Crowley simply had a weak stomach (though he doubted that very much; Dean didn't think someone could become the King of Hell on a weak stomach). Regardless, Crowley’s visits never lasted more than what Dean thought felt like fifteen minutes.

Even so, Dean found himself strangely relieved when Crowley came to visit. The first few times were absolutely humiliating, between his nakedness and his weakness at being tortured. Then the high demon's visits were welcome, bringing back memories of a more simple time. Well, different time at least. Times of Crowley begrudgingly helping them during the apocalypse. His presence became a strange sort of comfort, a reminder that the world still existed outside of Hell.

Crowley was more than just memories like Cas and Sam were. He was a physical, tangible thing. There was one day where Dean utterly panicked, it having dawned on him this might just be another one of Alistair’s psychological manipulations to try and break Dean. The hunter calmed himself down, using the logic that Alistair always seemed irked to have Crowley in his torture chamber. So Dean clung to that, clung to the reminder that there was happiness not far from Dean…that above the surface people were living out their lives, having families. Dean found himself able to rest knowing while he had suffered decades at the hands of Alistair, there was more to life than this chamber, with its rack and meat hooks.

In an odd sort of way, Crowley became Dean's savior for a time.

~

Sam turned around from the sink where he had just finished washing the last dish. He gave a rather undignified yelp, having known he was alone in the bunker for the day and yet found someone standing right there.

“Hello, Moose.”

Clutching the counter behind him a moment and getting a grip, Sam glared. “What the f*ck, Crowley? Can't you knock or something?”

Crowley snorted in amusem*nt. “What, you're the only one who gets to show up unexpectedly? Whenever you summon me I'm just as startled.”

Sam sighed, shoulders slumping. “What do you want?”

“I've come to warn you,” Crowley replied, walking forward. “Or rather, instill a sense of urgency within you.”

Sam co*cked an eyebrow.

“It's Dean.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “What about him?”

“I'm sure with all the time you spent with Lucifer in the cage, you came to realize time in Hell moves at an accelerated rate?”

“Yeah.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “I try not to think about the fact it's coming up on thirty years for Dean.”

Crowley took another step forward, his words icy. “Well perhaps you should.”

Sam didn't speak.

“Dean is starting to lose himself.”

Sam's brow knit. “What do you mean?”

“Alistair has every intention of making Dean a Knight of Hell. In order to complete that, Dean has to willingly give up his humanity, give in, strip himself of what makes him the righteous man.”

Sam frowned.

“I'm telling you, Moose, thirty years of daily torture is a very, very long time. I'm not sure how much your brother can take.”

Sam was starting to get worried, and he didn't try to outwardly repress that fact. He shuffled on his feet, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Crowley folded his hands neatly in front of him. “I'm sure you understand how absolutely terrifying Alistair is? I'm sure you realize that, if he weren't so preoccupied with his torture chambers that Alistair would be a worse demon than even Azazel himself?”

Sam's nostrils flared at the mention of that particular demon.

“If you don't think,” Crowley whispered, able to be heard because they were the only ones in the large house, “that Alistair’s position and rank isn't by design, you're a fool. I'll have you know that I genuinely fear Alistair—which, by the way, if that ever gets out I'll cut your tongue out.”

Sam didn't say anything, taking the threat seriously.

“The point I am making here, Moose, is that if your brother were to become a Knight of Hell?”

Sam raised his eyebrows in question.

“He would be much worse than Alistair and Azazel combined.”

An unwelcome shiver hit Sam.

Crowley raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers.

“Tik tok, Moose. Time is running out.”

Crowley snapped and disappeared. Sam let out a huff of breath, feeling winded.

He got the message loud and clear.

Chapter 27

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“Who's that, Dean?”

Dean was panting, tied down to a bed. He was happy for the reprieve, happy for the pain to have stopped momentarily. He stilled, happy his involuntary flinches could stop, because every time he did his burned and bloodied wounds would stick to the sheet beneath him, rubbing and rubbing and peeling. It was excruciating.

Alistair had stopped what he was doing. He was smiling, cupping a hand to his ear.

“Cas?” a voice called out, far, far away.

Dean whimpered.

“Shh,” Alistair soothed.

“Castiel?” the voice called out again, getting closer. “Sam? Dean? Raven? Come on guys, this isn’t funny.”

“What d’ya say, Deno? How about we let our guest in?”

Without waiting for a reply, Alistair abruptly plunged the serrated knife he had been using into Dean's shoulder. Dean screamed. Ever-smiling, Alistair made the blade ignite in flames and Dean screamed, flailing.

“Stop, please!” Dean begged, babbled, writhing against his restraints. “Stop, please stop, I can't—I can't—please just stop!”

Without warning the door that Dean didn't even remember was there through his pain and torment exploded inwards, showering half the large room with splintered wood. Alistair vanished abruptly.

“Dean?”

Dove gasped, rushing forward. She immediately began unfastening the restraints and Dean yanked himself away from her reach. He thought he recognized the voice that said his name…but that wasn't right. It couldn't be.

“Just f*cking end it already. Kill me,” he gasped, spitting out blood as he spoke. His eyes were swollen shut, bruised, and bloody.

“Dean!” Dove choked back a sob.

He stopped moving, turning his face towards her voice.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Dean, it’s me,” Dove replied as she leaned over him, unfastened another restraint.

“D-Dove?”

Dean struggled to open his eyes, even barely. He saw Dove quickly wipe away her tears. Her fingers fumbled over the restraints, pulling them loose.

“It’s me, Dean.”

She cupped his face and then held her hands over his eyes, healing them. When he was able to see her, his eyes widened, and he looked around. She reached for the restraint on his left foot and was caught off guard when he pushed her away.

“Get away from me. Go away!” he demanded, venom in his voice.

“W-what? Dean, it’s me.”

She reached for him again, but he swung at her, causing her to jerk back. She paused, not coming forward. He quickly began untying his feet. When they were free, he nearly fell to the floor when he tried to get off the bed.

Dove rushed forward, pulling him to his feet, but he pushed her away again.

“Get away from me you sick f*ck!”

“Dean!” Dove yelled.

He grabbed a scalpel from a tray nearby and swung it towards Dove.

“Which demon are you? Huh? Which one are you?!” he screamed.

“It’s me. Let me help you.”

“Why?! So, you can take me to another room to torture me in new ways in? I’m not falling for your sick and twisted schemes anymore.”

He thrust the scalpel towards Dove, forcing her to jump back. She grabbed his arm and used her powers to force him to drop the weapon. He swung his fist and she blocked the punch.

“Dean, stop. Let me get you out of here!”

“If you’re really Dove, where’s Cas? Huh? He’d never let you come down here alone.”

“I don’t know, Dean. But I’m here somehow. Please, let me get you out—”

Suddenly, Dean was yanked by an invisible force and was being dragged away. Dove reached towards him, gripping the tips of his fingers, screaming for him not to let go.

“Don’t you let me go, Dove. DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME!”

When Dove Iost her grip, he screamed her name as he was dragged away.

~

Cas had been pouring over the map of Hell when he heard Dove screaming. He was on his feet immediately, running down the hallway. He nearly crashed into Dean and the other Castiel, who were also rushing to Dove's bedroom. Without any sort of preamble, Dean threw her unlocked door wide open and the three rushed in.

“Dove?”

“Are you ok?”

“What happened?”

Dove looked absolutely terrified. Tears streamed down her face as she wheezed, unable to catch her breath.

“Dove?” Dean sat next to her on the bed. He gently moved hair from her face that was sticking to her sweat-soaked skin.

Dove's desperate eyes found Cas’, and as soon as they locked, he knew what she was dreaming about.

“You’re having nightmares now, aren’t you?”

“Cas,” Dove's green eyes were wide with fear. “That’s not a nightmare.” She shook her head as she spoke. “It felt so real.”

“Alistair is using us to torture him,” Cas said as if he already knew what her dream was about.

Dean craned his neck forward. “Come again?”

Cas swiveled his head back to Dove, ignoring how utterly perturbed Castiel looked. “That was it, right? You dreamed about Dean?”

“That was not a dream!” Dove insisted, eyes flashing angrily. “I'm telling you, I—”

Cas sat besides her and gathered up her hands in his own. “I know, I'm sorry.”

Letting out another strangled sob, she gave Cas a desperate look that broke his heart. “How did you know?”

Cas sighed deeply, eyes dropping to their clasped hands. He spoke, eyebrows raised. “This was always a possibility. I had really hoped—foolishly hoped—it wouldn't come to this.”

“Well what the hell?” Dean barked out. “Why is Alistair f*cking with us? We're not part of his contract!”

Cas gathered himself up and ambled to his feet. He looked at Dean seriously. “You're right, but Dean is. They're trying to break him, Dean. Hell—”

Cas had to stop a moment, brace himself against really, truly thinking about what he was saying and the implications they held.

“Hell isn't just about breaking a person's body. Torture doesn't stop with the physical. It's—it's mental. It's spiritual.”

“They're breaking him in every way possible,” Castiel agreed quietly, looking away.

For a moment Dean did nothing more than swipe a hand over his face. Then he shook his head, hand on his hip. After pacing a few steps he lashed out, grabbing the lamp from the dresser and smashing it against the wall. Everyone flinched. Dean turned to them and held up his hands, visibly shaking.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.”

He looked at Dove, who nodded an acceptance to his apology. With that settled, he looked around the room.

“No more puss* footing around. We get him out, ASAP, and we will kill as many sons of bitches as we can along the way.”

Cas couldn't help but smirk a little, having missed Dean's determined spark.

Chapter 28

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

“So, we're really doing this?”

“We're really doing this.”

Everyone was paired with their LT partners. Castiel currently stared down Cas.

Castiel gave his counterpart a sidelong look. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Cas gave an impish, taunting grin. “I'd like to see you try.”

“I'm you,” Castiel replied, bobbing his head.

“No sh*t?”

Castiel smirked. “I simply meant, how is that going to work? We know each other so well…”

“We'll just have to see then, won't we?”

Castiel grinned then and the Castiel's started fighting.

Meanwhile, Sam had Dean in a headlock, choking him out. Until he wasn't. Dean disappeared, directly behind Sam. Dean kicked Sam in between the shoulder blades and Sam fell forward, nose scraping against the concrete floor. Sam rolled over fast enough so when Dean leapt at him, he was ready; he grabbed Dean's shoulders and kicked him in the stomach, easily flinging Dean up over his head.

“C'mon, Raven,” Dove said, taking a wild swing at her daughter. “Fight me already before Cas notices!”

“Mom!” Raven outright whined at her, ducking and side-stepping the punch. “I can't!”

“You have to!”

“But—”

Dove punched Raven in the face so hard she broke her nose. Raven yelped and stumbled back. She clutched her nose, blood pouring out from behind her hands, eyes wide.

Dove cringed. “Sorry.”

Bellowing, Raven threw herself at Dove.

Castiel got the upper hand, throwing Cas with such force he broke through the ceiling. Castiel was still on him, flying at breakneck speeds out of the hole he had just created.

“OW!” Dean snarled, clutching at his bicep Sam had just slashed him with an angel blade. “Sonofabitch!”

Sam's eyes widened. “Uh-oh. “

Raven hit Dove with an open palm—her mom went flying into the opposite wall and crumpled into a heap. Raven gasped and transported herself across the warehouse, squatting by Dove and reaching out her hand.

“I'm sorry, I broke some ribs, didn't I—”

Dove was on her feet. Eyes glowing pink, she grabbed Raven by the throat and lifted her above her head. Eyes bulging, Raven kicked her feet back and forth, grasping at her mother's fingers that squeezed her throat.

“Fight me,” Dove commanded.

Raven shook her head.

“Fight me!” Dove screamed.

A few tears spilled out of Raven's eyes, and she shook her head again.

“Fine,” Dove snarled, bringing Raven directly in front of her face, but still holding her so just the tip of her toes brushed against the floor. Dove narrowed her eyes. “When we're too late to save Dean, it'll be all your fault.”

A flip switched, and Raven pressed her thumbs into her mother's eyes. Dove was so shocked she yelped, dropping her daughter. When Dove bent forward, covering her face and screaming in pain, Raven kicked her in the ribs. Dove stumbled back, blind in one eye. Raven couldn't stand the sight of her mother's bleeding eye. She burst into tears and reached out, healing her.

“Don't heal me!” Dove screamed and tackled Raven.

Cas grabbed Castiel by his ankle as he tried to get away. He flung him around, slamming him into a tree (which splintered and broke in half). Cas appeared where Castiel had landed, angle blade at the ready. Cas had the other by the scruff of his neck, angel blade lifted high. So, Castiel went for the only thing that might actually hurt Cas.

“Dean never actually loved you because he's such a fundamentally broken man he's not capable of actual love.”

For just a split second Castiel thought he had really gone too far. He thought that because Cas plunged the silver blade in a downward arc. He stopped with the tip so close to Castiel's eye that if he blinked his eyelashes would touch the blade, the weapon a blurry blob from being that close to his eye. Castiel did move, didn't breath.

Cas was panting, livid, blue eyes wild. Castiel still didn't dare move, hands still clutching the forearm that held him to the ground. The wind blew, and a shiver ran through both angels.

“Dead,” Cas snarled finally, and then threw the weapon off to the side.

Castiel let out a sigh of relief and dropped his arms at his sides, closing his eyes. Frowning, looking ruffled, Cas climbed off the other. He then yanked Castiel to his feet. Seeing Cas’ expression, Castiel looked sheepish.

“Sorry.”

Cas slung his arm around the other's shoulders, and they started walking back towards the warehouse.

“I needed to make sure you wouldn't be emotionally rattled,” Castiel said.

Cas sighed, dropping his arm from his doppelganger’s shoulders. He stooped over briefly to retrieve his discarded weapon and tucked it back inside his coat. “No, I understand. I appreciate that.”

“I'm happy you weren't affected.”

Cas shot him a withering look.

Castiel looked sheepish again. “Well, at least it didn't make you unable to perform.”

Cas snorted. “I've never had performance issues.”

“Well, yes, I know—I mean, I can only assume your time as a general in Heaven made you…wait a second.”

Cas cracked up. Castiel shook his head. “That was a double-entendre, wasn't it?”

Cas laughed harder and slung his arm around Castiel's shoulders once more. “Man, as much as it sucked sometimes, I'm really happy I was human for a while. I can't believe I used to be so stuffy.”

“Hey! I am not stuffy!”

Cas snorted. “Right, Castiel.”

“What? I'm not!”

Cas laughed.

When the pair opened the door, they were thrown back because they got a face full of Sam, and all three tumbled to the ground. Everyone yelped. Sam, bloodied and bruised, scrambled to his feet. No sooner did he get up that Dean was on him, eyes glowing. He began pummeling him.

“Would—” punch “you—” punch “—stay” punch “down?!”

Sam kicked Dean in between the legs and threw him off. Panting, he rolled onto his hands and knees, glaring at Dean. He was on him then and pressed his angel blade to Dean's throat. Dean froze, eyes wide, stunned he had just lost.

“Never,” Sam panted.

Dean held up both hands. After a second more, Sam collapsed on his backside, dropped his blade, and held his head in his hands. He was visibly trembling.

Dean sat up and hugged Sam. Both Castiels looked on. Dean caught their attention and jutted his chin to the door, signaling to them that he was okay with Sam. When the Castiels tried to enter the building a second time, they didn't get far once again. This time they stopped in their tracks out in shock.

Raven and Dove sat on the ground just inside the door. They were slumped against the wall, holding each other, crying.

“What happened?!” Castiel cried out, alarmed.

“It was a draw,” Dove choked out.

“We both got the final blows,” Raven sobbed.

“It's true,” Hannah said, also looking worse for wear. “I saw the tail end of the fight. They had blades at each other's throats.”

“I'd never hurt you!” Dove said.

“Me neither!” Raven agreed.

Castiel looked panicked; Cas, on the other hand, sighed and palmed his face, eyes closed. Feeling guilty then, he squatted down and put a hand on both of their shoulders.

“I'm sorry. I know it was hard but this isn't going to be easy. If either of you want to back out—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Dove snapped.

Cas looked surprised.

“f*ck that!” Raven said, getting to her feet and wiping off her face from her tears (which actually did little more than smear blood across her face). “I did not just beat my own mother into a bloody pulp and try to kill her for me to not go through with it!”

As Raven flounced away, Cas watched after her. When the door shut behind her, he swiveled his head to Dove.

“Did I go too far? Was this too much?”

Holding her side, Dove got to her feet. She shook her head. “This was very…unconventional, I will say that.”

Cas frowned, looking guilty. Dove gave him a wry smile.

“After this fight today though? Hell should be a cake walk.”

Dove patted his shoulder and then walked away.

Chapter 29

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Dove was running. Running fast and hard. She wasn’t sure what she was running from, but she felt like something was chasing her. Her heart raced, not just from over exertion but also from the rising anxious feeling inside of her. She looked behind herself and didn’t see anything, but she pushed harder, breezing past runners and joggers; surely they assumed it was a gust of wind as she blew by.

She couldn’t get away from what was chasing her. She couldn’t get out of its grasp, no matter how hard she tried. No matter how much she wanted to. It was right there at her heels, nipping and clawing.

“Dove.”

She looked back and saw nothing. Dove darted down the path, running, gasping for breath. Why was she out of breath, she wondered? She had her powers back; she shouldn’t get too winded this easily.

“Dove!”

The voice sounded frantic, anxious to catch up, but she ran even harder. Her legs were beginning to cramp up, heart beat so fast it actually hurt. Sharp pains shot through her chest as she gasped for air again.

“DOVE!”

~

“Raven.”

Raven peeled open a sleepy eye. As soon as she found Dean hovering over her, she sat up in her bed. Concern knit her brow.

“Dean?”

“It's your mom.”

Raven paled.

“No, she just had a—a nightmare or something. I d'no but she's having a panic attack. Could you please come?”

“Of course,” Raven said promptly and slid out of bed.

Following Dean as he rushed down the hall, Raven clutched Dean's arm in worry until they got to the bedroom

“Mom?” she asked, concerned. As Raven hurried towards her, she reached out. “Dean said you’re having an anxiety attack? What happened?”

Dove winced, pushing the heel of her hand against her chest and shook her head because it was too painful to talk. Raven sat on the other side of her and placed her hand on her mother's upper chest. A warming sensation spread across it, and Dove felt the tightness slowly loosening and the pain slowly fading. Once Dove was able to take a breath without the sharp pains, she breathed in deeply and held it for a moment before blowing it out. Dean knelt in front of Dove, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped the sides of her face.

“What happened?” he asked, looking in her eyes. He was searching; she could sense him pushing his grace forward, but she blocked it.

“I don’t know. I was dreaming.”

“What was going on in the dream?” Raven asked.

“I was running.” Dove shrugged. “I don’t know what from, but I was definitely running from something. I could feel the fear of being chased.”

Castiel’s eyes fell to the floor as he thought about what was described. Then he slowly raised his head to look at Dove again.

“You seem to be having more and more dreams the closer we get to going to Hell. Could that have something to do with it?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel.

Castiel’s eyes looked at Dove; in fact, not just at her but through her. He slowly nodded and stood.

“Excuse me. I need to find Cas,” he said and vanished.

The three of them looked at each other, wondering what he was thinking. Then Raven rubbed Dove's shoulder and offered a small smile.

“You feeling any better?” she asked, moving hair from Dove's face.

Dove smiled wryly. “It’s supposed to be me taking care of you.”

Dove put her arm around Raven and hugged her. Raven hugged her back and said, “No one has ever taken care of you. You always fought for someone else. Let us take care of you.”

Dove shook her head. “None of that is happening. I’m not weak anymore.”

Dean’s mouth turned down into a frown. “Just because you lean on people who care about you does not make you weak, Dove.”

Dove stared into Dean’s eyes as he took her hands.

Raven stood and smoothed out her clothing. “I’ll give you guys the room.”

She looked back at Dove and smiled before leaving her mother alone with Dean.

“Can I trust you?” Dove asked, looking in his eyes, wondering if she was about to make a huge mistake.

“Of course you can,” he immediately responded.

She took a deep breath and looked down at her fingers. “I think I know what I was running from.”

“What?”

Dove grit her teeth together, deciding if she wanted to say it. Once she said it out loud, that would be admitting it’s truth. Taking another deep breath, Dove blew it out, and confessed.

“I think I’m running from the beast inside of me.”

Dean was quiet. So quiet that Dove had to look up at him to make sure he didn’t vanish on her.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because there’s something in me. I thought I got rid of it when I found myself, when we were at Alcatraz the first time. You know,” she clarified, making sure he was understanding her. “When both Cas’ helped me restore my grace?”

Dean nodded.

“I thought it was expelled from me but I’m guessing a piece of it dug its claws so deeply into me that it could be reborn somehow. I don’t know.”

“But this thing comes from rage, right?”

Dove nodded.

“You haven’t been feeling much rage lately. Not since we talked things out, right?”

Dove shrugged.

“Dove.”

She dropped her eyes to the floor and felt Dean’s hand on her arm. Before he was able to say anything else, they noticed Cas and Castiel were in the doorway.

“Castiel came to me,” Cas stated as he knocked on the door.

Dove waved them inside and he walked forward, studying her.

“Answer Dean’s question,” Cas said, having overheard Dean's observation regarding Dove's better temperament.

Dove didn’t say anything.

“Dove, I need your full honesty. I can’t take you to Hell with me if that thing is still inside you. It’ll cause so much...” Cas’ words trailed off, eyes drifting over her and to the floor, and then snapped back up to Dove's as a thought occurred to him. “Do you think you could control it if you give into it?”

“Give in to it? Are you insane?” Dean jumped to his feet.

Cas spun on him and nodded. “Actually, yes I am. Want to test me?”

“Cas, you can’t be serious. You’re asking her to basically allow a demon to take over her.”

Cas stared at Dean, eyes narrowing, and head tilting as he thought about Dean’s words. Then he slowly turned his head and looked at Dove again.

“What if that’s what it is, Dove? Have you ever been possessed?”

Dove laughed a nervous laugh and shook her head. “I think I’d know if I was ever possessed.”

“Eh,” Dean started, shoulders raised slightly. “I’ve watched demons leave people and they have no idea what happened.”

“Are you saying a demon could be lying dormant inside of me and finally woke up and is trying to take control?!”

Cas slowly nodded. “It’s possible. And if that’s the case, it could be useful.”

Dove stared at Cas dumbfounded.

“You’re telling me that God himself had her in his sights, and even he couldn’t see that she was possessed?” Dean asked, bewildered. “I call bullsh*t here.”

“Excuse me?” Dove stood and crossed her arms, Dean's eyes falling to her bare legs and quickly looking away.

Cas took a step back, not stopping the argument this time. He watched the pair intently, mainly Dove.

“I’m not saying what you’re saying is bullsh*t, Dove. I’m saying you possibly being possessed is bullsh*t. We would know,” Dean argued.

“But would we?” Cas interjected. “I’ve been on hunts with the Winchesters. I’ve seen them working with someone possessed and they didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“Test me,” Dove said, holding her arm out.

Dean stared at her arm in horror.

“Go get Sam. Tell him to bring the supplies to test for a demon,” she pushed.

“Demons can’t get into the bunker, guys,” Dean argued. “It’s warded.”

“It’s also warded against angels, yet here we are,” she replied stubbornly, gesturing all around.

“Uh, Dean dropped the angel warding for me a long time ago,” Cas confirmed.

“Either way, demons can’t get into the bunker,” said Dove.

Dean shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“How are you so sure?” Dove said in rebuttal.

“Crowley is a demon.”

“So?”

“You summoned him back at the beginning of all of this when you tried breaking Dean’s contract,” Castiel said, understanding where Dean was going.

“Yeah, he got in because I summoned him,” Dove said.

“Which broke the warding.”

“But we reinstated the warding again after that,” Cas replied.

Dean looked at Cas. “Has anyone summoned any demons since Dean’s been gone?”

“I don’t think so.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, everyone refusing to address the elephant in the room (or rather demon that might be residing within Dove). Finally Dean cleared his throat.

“Alright, well, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Let’s all try to get some sleep, or at least some rest,” Dean stated and then looked at Dove. “Are you ok to go back to sleep?”

Dove shrugged. “I don’t know. I never know when these dreams are coming.”

“I could stay,” Dean offered quietly then seemed to regret his words. He winced, preparing himself for her to come back with a rude or mean comment. But she didn’t.

“I think I’ll be alright, Dean.” She smiled. “But thank you.”

Dean smiled sheepishly and nodded. He looked at Cas and then left. Cas raised a brow at Dove and smiled.

“I love that the two of you are getting along now. Thank you for trying.”

Dove nodded and watched him leave.

“Are you sure you're alright?” Castiel asked.

Dove worried her bottom lip but then gave a confident smile. “Yes, Castiel, thank you. Goodnight.”

Hesitating for just a moment longer, Castiel gave a nod and then left. Dove took a deep breath, stretched, and crawled back into bed, hoping she could fall into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 30

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas had been happy when he peeled open his eyes the following morning and realized he hadn't dreamed. Yawning he sat up and stretched. He was surprised to find himself actually sore from the training. While that was a wonderful sign, he also didn't necessarily want his vessel to be aching. As such he quickly made the pain go away.

Yawning once more and shaking his head, he briefly looked out the window. The mound of dirt that held Dean was starting to sprout some green, a mixture of weeds and a small patch of grass. It made him happy that life was growing there.

“Soon, my love,” he whispered, hoping somehow Dean would hear him like he had heard him across Purgatory all those months ago.

After dressing, Cas opened the door and found Sam exiting his room at the same time. Sam smiled and Cas gave a nod.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“Hey Cas,” Sam greeted.

The pair made their way down the hallway.

“How'd you sleep?” Sam asked.

“Fine. And you?”

Sam paused. “Eh.”

As the pair wound their way through the bunker, they enjoyed a comfortable silence. That cocoon of content was shattered once they drew closer to the kitchen area. An aroma had hit both of their nostrils, one which neither had smelled for a while. It caused them both to stutter in their steps, to slow down. When they finally came to stop, both hunter and angel paused in the doorway, unable (and perhaps even a little bit unwilling) to enter the kitchen.

Standing in the kitchen were Dean and Dove. Their movement had caught Dove's attention, and she turned to the pair.

“Sam?” Dean said.

“Cas?” Dove said at the same time.

Dean set his mug down and looked at the two. “Everything alright?”

Sam cleared his throat and walked in, physically shaking something mental off.

“Everything is fine, Dean.” Cas said, voice quieter than normal. “It’s just been a while since we’ve smelled this smell. This exact smell. The way Dean made his coffee.”

“We’ve tried many times to make it the way that he does. I just can’t get it down.” Sam said, offering a mug to Cas.

Cas accepted it with a nod and forced smile. Dove watched as both Sam and Cas slowly raised their mugs to their lips and as soon as the liquid reached the tip of their tongues, their eyes closed as if they were recalling a fond memory. She looked at Dean nervously to find he was already looking back, his eyes begging for some form of help.

“What’s on the agenda today, Cas?” Dove asked, trying to take their minds off of their Dean being gone.

“Not sure,” Cas admitted softly, taking another sip of the coffee. A small hum escaped his throat, and his far away looking eyes made everyone in the room wonder how much of his brain was lost in a memory. Swallowing, he refocused his eyes. “I should gather everyone; we'll meet in the war room.”

With a curt nod Cas swept away. As soon as he was out of sight and knew there was no risk of anyone seeing him, he stopped. Closing his eyes once more he put the mug directly under his nose and inhaled. Then, smiling to himself, he strode down the hallway to gather the rest of the group.

~

Castiel had set aside one day of rest from training every week. As much as he wanted to train them daily, he also didn't want anyone to burn out. When Dove had asked what was the plan for the day, she had forgotten it was one of their rest days. Even so, everyone enjoyed each other's company, so they decided to get a friendly itinerary hammered out.

Everyone sat around the table talking, anxious about the upcoming rescue mission. Sam and Raven seemed to have an internal conversation between the two of them with how they’d catch one another's eyes and tilt their head or raise their eyebrows at one another. Sam caught Dove looking at him once after one of their exchanges and she raised her own eyebrows at him, wondering what was going on. She was further intrigued when Sam looked away from her almost immediately. Dove nudged Raven and when she looked at her mother, she leaned over.

“Something going on between you and Sam?” Dove asked, curiously and protectively.

Raven glanced at Sam and then back at Dove and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Dove took that as it was definitely something, and promptly assumed it was something it wasn't.

“I’m not sure how I feel about my daughter dating a Winchester.”

Raven’s head snapped to face Dove fully, eyes wide. “That’s not—what? No! Mom!”

Her reaction made Dove laugh and when she looked at Sam, his face was beet red, which made her laugh even harder.

“Uh, why are we laughing?” Dean asked, having missed everything. When he caught sight of Raven, he added, “And why does Raven look like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her?”

Dove all but howled with laughter and now both Castiel's were looking over, wondering what was happening.

Raven stood and cleared her throat. “I’ll be in my room.”

Sam stood and Dove looked at him expectantly. He shook his head and waved his hands. “It’s nothing like that, Dove. I promise. I wouldn’t. Not Raven.”

Dove straightened her face and crossed her arms, co*cking one eyebrow at him. “Oh. So, my daughter isn’t good enough?”

Sam’s expression fell and he paled. Dean shook his head and came to his aid.

“She’s been extremely playful lately, Sam. Just ignore her.”

Sam looked at Dean and nodded slightly, hurrying off after Raven.

When he was out of the room, Dove had both Castiels and Dean staring at her.

“What?” Dove asked.

“Your mood swings are enough to give a man whiplash,” Dean said, unsure of what else to say.

“I agree. Not that I’m complaining. It’s wonderful to see you so playful and smiling,” Castiel said and smiled.

Cas looked at Dean and decided to approach a topic he’d been thinking about since the previous night.

“Dean,” he said, preparing himself for an argument. When Dean looked over at him, he just blurted out the words, unsure of how to approach the subject.

“Would you be willing to try pulling whatever is inside of Dove out?”

Dean looked at Cas in surprise. “You’re serious?”

Cas nodded.

“You want me to intentionally antagonize her? After we just put everything behind us. Are you insane?!”

When Cas quirked a brow at him, Dean back peddled.

“I know you’re insane. But please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m serious, Dean. I think you’d be the best one to pull it out of her.”

“And when it fully appears? What then? ‘Cause I’m sorry, Cas,” he rose to his feet, “but she’s terrifying when she’s raging. Do you really want the actual thing to surface completely?”

Cas nodded. “I think if she can control it, it will get us through Hell quickly.”

He saw Dean’s expression change from surprise to fully opposed.

“Think about it,” he continued quickly. “If she can pass as a demon, what demon is going to question her? Word about the only Daughter of God is getting around, Dean. You don’t think her being here has gone unnoticed, have you?”

Dean’s brows pulled together as he scrubbed his face, frustrated that he was even considering it. “Cas, we’re just now back on somewhat good terms.” He shook his head, worry filling his eyes. “If this makes her hate me...”

Cas stepped towards Dean and reached out to touch him. “We’ll get her approval first, of course.”

Dean could see the desperation in Cas’ eyes and felt for the guy. He knew how desperate he was when Dove was taken, and he couldn’t save her. Hell, he killed himself by turning himself into an angel just to get to her. He could see the pleading behind Cas’ bright blue eyes and closed his own, taking a deep breath, and silently praying Dove wouldn’t hate him after this.

“Alright.” He nodded, reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

When he opened his eyes, the look on Cas’ face made Dean smile slightly. He nodded again, this time more confidently. “I’ll do it. Just promise me you’ll put an end to it if we think we’re losing her.”

“I will,” Cas agreed, but when Dean’s eyes fell to the floor, he reached out and patted his shoulder. “I promise, Dean. I won’t let her hate you.”

“That’s going to be easier said than done, Cas. The things I’m going to have to say to her, the way I’m going to have to taunt her to get that rage to come back...I can’t lose her again.” He shook his head. “Not like this.”

Cas squeezed his shoulder. “Let me talk to Dove first. Maybe if I approach her with the idea, she will understand better what you’re going to have to do.”

Dean nodded, hoping Cas was right and that Dove's feelings for him wouldn’t change after this.

~

“So really, what was that whole silent conversation with me?”

Sam had chased down Raven. Raven was just about to her room when he caught up with her. She tucked some hair behind her ear. Pausing a moment to make sure no one was around, she leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice.

“I was just wondering if you heard from Crowley at all.”

“Oh. No, I haven't.” Sam looked worried. “Should I have?”

“I d'no, you tell me.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Raven glared. “I'm still not okay with you summoning him in the first place.”

Sam shrugged. “I got us an in, didn't I?”

“I—you—!” Raven cut herself off with an indignant squeak of fury. Clenching her fists to her side, she glared up at him. “You'd think that after everything you've been through you'd be more calculated in your actions.”

Sam looked offended, raising both eyebrows. “I'm very calculated, thank you. I had leverage.”

“That's not the point!”

“I don't understand what the point is, then.”

“That could have gone very badly.”

“Yeah, but it didn't.”

“That's not the point!”

Sam sighed. “You said that.”

“What if something happened? To you?” Raven puckered her lips. “Dean's not here to pick up the pieces if that went wrong—I am.”

Sam blinked, honestly surprised. “You'd be fine, Raven.”

Her eyes flashed. “Would I, Sam? Would I really?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply but instead she gave another infuriated shriek and slammed the door in his face. Then her muffled, angry voice came through the door.

“More people than just Dean care about your well being, Sam!”

Sam opened his mouth and held up his hand. Instead of replying though, he slowly closed his mouth, pressing his palm to the door. After a moment he allowed his hand to drop away and he bowed his head, feeling awful.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not sure if she had even heard the apology. Then he turned and walked away.

Behind the door, Raven smiled. She hadn't heard the apology, but she felt it, and that was good enough for her.

Chapter 31

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

The following morning after training, Cas asked Dove to hang back. She did, watching everyone file out of the doors to go do whatever it was that they did when not training.

Cas was in a deep conversation with Castiel, and Castiel didn’t seem too thrilled about the topic.

“It’s a bad idea, Cas. That’s why!” Castiel snapped.

“I think it would be beneficial. Look at it from this perspective, if we—” Cas started but Dean interrupted.

“I think we should at least try, Castiel,” Dean interjected. “If it doesn’t work, we know we need to work on her anger and rage differently.”

Castiel stared at Dean, unsure if he wanted to turn and walk away or smite him.

“You want to put her in danger to possibly awaken a demonic rage beast within her,” Castiel stated flatly. “You want to do this to see, not because you know, but just to see if this thing can be controlled.”

Dean glanced at Cas, who looked as if he were going to pop his top at any given moment. Dean quickly responded, not allowing Cas to say whatever he was about to say in fear that he would later regret it.

“Castiel, I know you love Dove. We both do. Do you think I would do something that would purposely harm her?”

Castiel glared at him. “As opposed to—”

“Alright, enough,” Cas interjected. “I get it, you both love her and don’t want her hurt. Look at her!” Cas pointed at her from across the warehouse. “Does she look weak to you? When has she ever shown true weakness? Not what she feels or thinks she is, but true weakness? That,” he thrust his finger in her direction, pointing at her again, “is the definition of strength and determination. Every day she comes to training and busts her ass just as hard as everyone else, but you know what I have noticed? She also works out and runs after training and in the middle of the night. She pushes herself to limits that I’d never imagine asking her to do. She snapped into a soldier role during training with her daughter! She’s the one who pushed her daughter to fight. Not you. Not Castiel. Not me. Her. So, if this argument is because you fear she can’t handle it, then fine. I won’t ask her. But if it’s because you fear you can’t handle it, then get the f*ck out and let me see what I can do with her!”

Dean took a step back, staring at Cas. Dove watched as Cas’ eyes glowed during the last bit of the argument, and then Castiel clenched his fists, turned, and walked away. Not wanting to wait to be called over any longer, Dove began walking over to where Cas and Dean stood.

“Guys.” Dove looked between the two.

“Dove.” Cas took a breath and turned his body to face directly in her direction.

“Should I…” she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb and moved to take a step backward.

“No. Wait,” Cas said and swallowed.

“Just say it, Cas.” Dean huffed and Cas narrowed his eyes at him in return.

“Say what?” Dove exclaimed, hands out. “I mean, I think I know based on what I just heard, but—”

“Ok. So, we all know there is something in you that feeds off of your anger and rage,” Cas began and she nodded, listening intently to what he was saying before reacting.“I had the idea of, what if it could be controlled?”

Dove didn't reply, frowning.

“How would you feel if we tried to make it surface and have you work toward being able to control it?”

Dove's brow creased as her eyebrows shot high in shock. “You want to unleash this thing?”

When neither said anything, Dove linked her fingers behind her head and half laughed, looking at the ceiling.

“I thought that's what you were arguing about with Castiel. You’re insane. You’re both insane.” Then she looked at Dean. “You’re ok with this?”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Cas interrupted.

“He wasn’t. He still isn’t. He is only here because I asked him to do this.”

“Do what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“To awaken the beast,” Cas answered.

Dove glanced at Dean who stared at the floor, his body language filled with guilt.

“What exactly are you wanting me to do?” Dove asked.

“I want to see if you can eventually summon it yourself, allow it to take you over and be the one to fight.”

“And how would I go about controlling this thing?”

“I…am admittedly not sure. That would be on your to figure out.”

Both hurt and offended, Dove tucked her chin in and pulled her brows together. “You don’t think me fighting is enough? Have I failed your training?”

“No!” Cas rushed forward, resting both hands on her shoulders. “You have been wonderful. Above and beyond.” He smiled proudly, staring intensely into her eyes. “I was just telling them how I’ve noticed you working hard even when you don’t have to. I’m proud of you, Dove. Don’t even think I’m not. And while this might be considered taking advantage of you, I’m hoping you could look past that because of the reason.”

Dove swallowed, eyes dancing back and forth between his.

“Dean,” she said softly, looking over at the hunter.

He nodded and then she nodded.

“Aright,” she said quietly. “What do we have to do?”

“Well,” Cas squeezed her shoulders and stepped away, glancing at Dean. “That’s where Dean comes in.”

“What?” She looked at Dean curiously.

“Your anger and rage seemed to spike when he was around, before the two of you talked things out.”

Dove swallowed nervously, feeling anxious about what he was saying.

“Ok...”

“Dean would have to piss you off.”

She placed her hand on her stomach and threw my head back, laughing. “You’re serious?”

Dean’s eyes looked pained and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“Dean?” she looked at him worried, abruptly stopping her laughter.

“Dove,” his voice cracked, and he cleared it. “The things I’m going to have to say to you...”

She understood. He was going to have to rip her heart out again.

“Oh.”

Her eyes fell to the floor and she took a deep breath, calming her nerves. When she looked up at Cas, he wore an expression of desperation, and she knew then that she had to do it. She said she would do literally anything to help get his Dean back, and Dove wasn’t about to break her word now.

She stood stiff, confident, and nodded once. “Alright. Lets do it.”

“Dove,” Dean breathed. “The things that I’m going to say...” He looked at Cas, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re sure this is the only way?”

Cas nodded. “The only way I could think to do it quickly and efficiently.”

Dean looked back at Dove, reaching out and quickly pulling her towards him. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with such force and passion that the shock of it quickly melted away and she slipped her arms around his neck. Dove could feel desperation and pleading in his kiss. When he pulled away and looked down at her, her own cheeks were wet with his tears.

“I’m sorry. I just needed one kiss before you hate me again,” he apologized, wiping a hand down his face to wipe the tears away.

“Dean.” She stared into his eyes, fear filling her as he took a step back and schooled his expression. “Dean, please. If this is going to—”

“Why are you still standing here?” Dean suddenly sneered, his eyes turning cold and hard.

The change was so sudden she was completely stunned at his words. She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut when he shot her a look of disgust.

“She’s useless, Cas. We don’t need her.”

His words hurt. She knew this was to awaken whatever was inside of her but the words hurt. She looked at Cas and he just took a step back, crossing his arms, watching. Dean got her attention again by reaching out and shoving her shoulder.

“I said leave. No one wants you here!”

“Dean,” Dove said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t Dean me. I don’t know why I even came here with you.”

Dove breathed deeply and Cas looked at Dean.

“More, Dean,” Cas instructed. “She’s still containing it.”

Dean looked at him and swallowed, nodding. When his eyes landed back on her, they narrowed, glaring viscously. “You’re worthless. You should have stayed in the Empty. And to think I killed myself for this.” His nose scrunched as he gestured up and down her body with his hand.

She clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth together. She could feel the anger bubbling up inside, fists clenched.

“More, Dean,” Cas commanded.

“You were better off staying with Negan. We were better without you.”

His voice cracked and Dove watched his eyes falter. The words, weightless and insincere as they may be, stabbed through her heart like a knife, and he knew that. Dean took a deep breath, watching as her chest heaved in anger, and said,

“Even during the apocalypse, we truthfully didn’t even know you were missing. Your own Father kicked you from Heaven. Who wants an angel that was tossed out like trash?”

Dove gasped, the anger quickly boiling inside of her, spinning and turning into rage. Dean closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. When he opened them, he looked Dove in the eyes and said,

“I should have stayed with Shannon.”

Dove screamed a blood curdling scream. Dove felt claws painfully extending from her nailbeds and knew it was awakening. She stared at Dean through darkening eyes, her vision blurring as if she were looking through multiple sets of eyes. Dove's chest heaved as she breathed erratically, snarling and showing her teeth.

“I never should have fallen for a beast like you,” Dean snarled at her, raising his voice.

Dove saw red. She lunged towards him, grasping him by the neck, and Cas quickly appeared next to them, reaching out and ripping her off of him.

“Control it, Dove! Take control. Show it who is in charge!”

Those were the last words Dove heard before her world faded in front of her.

Chapter 32

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

When Dove opened her eyes, two dark shadows blocked bright lights. She blinked numerous times and slowly sat up.

“Take it slow,” Dean stated, hand on her shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked, holding her hand to her forehead, trying to ignore the sharp pulsating pain.

“You blacked out while we were trying to bring your rage to the surface,” Cas explained, and then it all came back to her.

She looked at Dean, his words swimming around in her head, and she fought to push them away. She knew they were trying to surface the thing inside of her but that didn’t make his words hurt any less.

“Cas, I can’t do this to her,” Dean said as he helped Dove to my feet.

“We need to know if she can control this thing, Dean. If it can get us through the first part of Hell—”

“I’m sorry, Cas, but this time, I’m saying no to my commander.”

Cas’ eyes stared sternly, not liking being told no when he was acting as General. Dove knew that look all too well from her own Castiel.

“Wait,” Dove said, stretching her arms out. “If Cas thinks this will help, we’ll push forward.”

Dean was stunned. He didn’t expect Dove to be on board with him berating her, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it again.

“You might be able to do this, Dove, but I can’t. I’m sorry, guys. I won’t stand here and intentionally rip her heart out.” He shook his head, looking at Dove with pained eyes. “Not with how far we’ve come recently. We’re finally licking our wounds. I’m not about to purposely rip them back open.”

Cas breathed in deeply and nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Dove reached out and grabbed his arm as he turned to walk away. “Cas, I’ll try.”

He shook his head and pulled out of Dove's grasp. “We’re strong enough with what we’re doing. It was wrong of me to ask you to torture yourself.”

Dove looked into Cas’ face and saw just how badly he wanted this to work. He was confident in their ability to get through Hell, he knew they could do that. But what about when they reached Dean? What would be waiting for them? She touched his arm.

“Cas—”

“No. Just—” Cas pulled away again, hands raised. After a moment he turned and walked away. “Go. I need some time.”

Without another word, Cas swept out of the warehouse.

He was angry. Of course he was angry. He felt so close and yet so far. Things had gone swimmingly, with his garrison and friends—no, scratch that, family. With this absurd hiccup, one that shouldn't have even happened in the first place but had thanks to his selfish stupidity, Cas felt the wind totally taken out of his sails.

He meant what he said. He was ready to throw in the towel. Not permanently, but he suddenly understood his misstep. He had gotten too close, too emotional to the task at hand. He was quickly becoming deeply ashamed he had asked Dove to do that in the first place.

What if it had gone sideways? No one knew what laid beneath, and he was just going to unleash it? He was willing to put Dove, and Dean, and possibly himself in harm's way, and for what? To cheat? To be able to get to Dean, his Dean, quicker?

As Cas walked, he wrapped his arms around his midsection, feeling sick to his stomach. The rash decision was just like something he would have done before he met Dean, before he was shown how to love, to care; before when he saw people as little more than tools in his grand schemes, cogs in a machine used to his own devices. How foolish could he be?

No. He was getting too desperate. Too careless. He needed a break. As such, he flew the rest of the back to the bunker, popping into the room Sam was in.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam flinched and immediately shut his eyes. Puffing out a breath of annoyance once the was collected, he opened his hazel eyes and glared, forcing a smile.

“Cas.”

Cas gestured to Sam and his laptop. “I assume you have been keeping an eye on possible cases.”

Sam jerked his hands back as though the laptop had given him a shock. He looked guilty. Cas smirked.

“It's a very Sam thing to do. Don't feel bad.”

Sam cleared his throat and gave a quick nod.

“Have you found anything?”

Sam paused and looked nervous. “I mean, things here and there.”

Cas nodded but it was pretty clear he wasn't present. As such, Sam closed the laptop and shifted in his seat, eyebrow quirked. For a moment neither spoke. Sam couldn't take it anymore.

“Is…there…something you need?”

Cas opened his mouth and then closed it. He tried again, finger raised, but then closed his mouth again. With resignation on his face, he slumped into the seat across from Sam and buried his face behind his hands.

“I've made a mess of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Cas looked at Sam in misery. “I pushed Dove in a way I shouldn't have.”

Sam, now looking slightly scared, raised both eyebrows. He allowed room for Cas to continue. The angel shifted in his seat and looked at Sam head-on.

“I wanted Dove to learn to control the thing that's inside of her.” When Sam looked bewildered, angry, and opened his mouth, Cas held up his hand and closed his eyes. “Yes, I am aware what a bad idea that was.”

Sam huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. Cas opened his eyes and continued, looking miserable.

“I'm starting to doubt my capabilities.”

Sam shifted, his face softening into a blase expression.

“Trying to get her to summon it…Charging ahead with the plan, even when Dean fought me on it, even when I was aware of the risk but frankly didn't care, it was something I would have done previously.”

“What do you mean?”

“Old me. When I was nothing more than an asshole angel.”

Sam smirked.

“When I was nothing more than a pawn of Heaven and God. If I can so easily slip back into that mindset, if I can endanger someone who has become family to me, if I am willing to erode an already fragile relationship by having Dean taunt her to the point of losing control—”

“Cas, slow down.”

Castiel stopped talking, looking upset.

“Look, I'm not saying you made the right choice, but I get why you did.”

Cas was surprised. “You do?”

“I do. But…before you do something like that again, you should probably listen and consider what your friends are telling you if they object to something you want to do.”

Cas looked horribly uncomfortable and embarrassed, and dropped his head to look shamefully at his lap.

“Cas,” Sam said to get the angel to looked at him, and he didn't speak until Cas lifted his head. “The hallmarks of a good leader is to not only take into consideration the things their subordinates say, but they also learn from their mistakes and failures. This was a misstep, alright?”

Cas frowned.

“This was a misstep, that's all it was,” Sam repeated, moving his hand like he was wiping off the air. “And I need you to believe that, because if you beat yourself up over this? It's going to destroy your confidence, and the unit is only as strong as its leader. We need you to believe in yourself because if you don't, people are going to die. You get that, right?”

Cas looked downright bitchy. “Of course I get that. But—”

“There is no but, Cas. You're not the same asshole angel. I mean yeah, sure, maybe he's still in there somewhere. But he's so much more now.”

Cas didn't look convinced.

Sam leaned forward. “Would the same asshole angel be doing this without a direct order from Heaven?”

“No.”

“Would the same asshole angel have saved Dean when he was supposed to kill him the first time around?”

“No.”

“Would the same asshole angel be sitting here right now feeling remorse over hurting his friends?”

“Well, no—”

“Cas.” Sam smiled. “I understand you feel guilty about it. But mistakes happen, and especially doing what we're doing? There's no definition of right and wrong because it's never been done before. We're working with factors we've never dealt with before. We're on a playing field we basically have no right to be playing in.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Cas asked in a low, wry voice. “Because if it is, it's having the opposite effect.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “It is, and do you want to know why it should make you feel better?”

Cas shook his head.

“Because we're trying. And old Cas? He never would have tried. And when you try, there's hope. And frankly I'm starting to think that if old Cas is as bad as you say, he wouldn't have even cared.”

Cas mulled everything over I'm his head. Finally he nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam smiled. “Feeling better?”

Cas nodded. “I am.”

“Really? You're not just saying that?”

“No, I am not. Although,” he added, looking sheepish. “I think I have a bit of kissing ass to do with both Dean and Dove.”

Sam laughed at that. “Probably.”

Looking uncomfortable and shy once more, Cas looked at Sam. “Do you think you might be so kind as to go to the warehouse with me and let me know the situation, and if it would be an appropriate time for me to begin the process of sucking up to them for my transgression and gross negligence?”

Sam laughed again and got to his feet. “Sure, Cas. Let's go.”

Without much warning Sam and Cas stood outside of the warehouse. He smiled at Sam, who looked startled at the abrupt transportation.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Cas disappeared. Sam turned around in a circle, surprised at the abrupt exit. When he realized Cas was really gone, he ran a hand through his hair. Shaking his head and blowing out a huff of air, he rolled his shoulders, ready to enter the warehouse.

Dean and Dove were looking at one another, and the heartbreak in his eyes broke Dove. She reached out and pulled him to her, only for him to look away.

“Dean—” she tried to say.

“I shouldn’t have done it, Dove.”

“It’s alright, Dean. Obviously me working on my anger and rage has been successful, right?”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, slowly looking at her.

“Because I didn’t lose control. Not at first, anyway.”

Dean smiled and she smiled, ducking her head to look into his eyes. When he raised his head and they were staring at one another she squeezed him and cupped his cheek.

“You’ll never know just how much I care about you.”

He leaned into her touch, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. She slipped her hand around his neck and into the back of his hair and slowly, the two leaned into one another, lips barely brushing together.

“I’m really sorry, Dove.”

He closed his eyes, blocking Dove from seeing his sadness. She cupped the back of his head and pulled him the rest of the way, closing the gap between them. His arms tightened around her, one around her waist, the other up the middle of her back with his hand sprawled. He pulled her tighter to him, holding her as if she might disappear, and as soon as they moved to deepen the kiss, the warehouse door opened.

“Guys.”

A low, annoyed growl escaped from Dean’s throat, and Dove couldn’t hold back a giggle. They both turned and looked at their interruption, finding Sam running his fingers through his hair awkwardly.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re busy.”

Dove playfully smacked his shoulder and stepped out of his arms, turning her entire attention to Sam.

“What’s up, Sam?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t come all the way back to the warehouse if it wasn’t important.

“I talked to Cas—first of all, uh, is everything alright? He filled me in on what he tried to get Dove to do.”

Dean shrugged. “I mean, you know, besides Dove here sprouting claws and looking like I was a tasty charcuterie board, yeah, everything's peachy.”

Sam gave him RBF.

Dove smiled and put his hand on Sam's forearm. “We're fine, Sam, really. I'm fine.”

Sam gave a curt nod. “I trust you both to be honest about that.”

“Sammy! When have you ever known me to be dishonest?”

Even though he was smiling, he quirked an eyebrow. “Basically any day that ends in ‘y’?”

Dean gave him the bird.

Still smiling, Sam said, “Cas wanted me to make sure you guys were okay before he, and I quote, kiss both of your asses.”

“Okay, first of all that dude is not going anywhere near my ass,” Dean said, and Dove busted out laughing. “I may look like his boyfriend but I am not.”

Sam gave Dean a playful shove in the shoulder and rolled his eyes. Still with a mischievous glint to his eye, Dean then said, “Second of all yeah, we're cool.”

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna let Cas know,” Sam said, walking backward, quickly turning and averting his eyes when Dean pulled Dove against him once more, crashing his lips against hers.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

“So, does this mean we’re together?” he asked, holding her hips and leaning back to look at her.

“Don’t rush it, bud.”

She winked and walked away, heading in the direction Sam went.

Dean watched her walk away for a moment before he jogged to catch up, a silly grin on his face. As they exited the warehouse he slipped his arm around her waist, willing his racing heart to slow down.

Chapter 33

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Alistair had perfected the art of playing to Dean's emotions. He did this by the demons at his disposal. They were shape-shifters, feeding off of Dean's memories, specifically people he knew. Over the years everyone had come to Dean, making outlandish promises if he would only pick up the knife and agree to torture someone.

Seeing Cas was always hard. When a demon tried to portray his dad, it was outright laughable, not because seeing his father wasn't emotionally eviscerating, but because he knew in his heart of hearts his father would have never tried to convince him to torture another soul. Sam was hard—Sam was a recurrent torture. Lucifer just made Dean angry, and truthfully a little scared that Lucifer being there was real.

The thing that finally did Dean in? It wasn't his mother. It wasn't Lisa or Ben. It wasn't even Raven, or Charlie, Risa, Donna or Susan; not Rowena. Sure as sh*t wasn't Chuck.

“Dove?” Dean asked, bewildered.

Dean had been healing. It took awhile for his flesh to come back, regrow. The process itself was its own torture, painful and itchy. It was so itchy, inside and out. And he was always strung up when it was time to regrow his skin, so he couldn't scratch. He would have thought after forty years of being flayed alive only to be reborn, so to speak, he'd get used to it. He'd get used to his skin melding to the meat hooks, so when Alistair decided it was time to get him down the skin would tear off, hang from the metal. But Dean never got used to the itchy agony.

Dean looked around. He was alone, Alistair was nowhere to be seen. It was just him and Dove.

This was new. Dove had never come to him before. Not like this, anyway. He had weird dreams, if you could call them that. Visions he supposed. They felt like when she had dream-walked to him all those years ago, what was now just a dim memory.

“Dove?” he asked again, this time with a little more desperation, a little more hope to it.

“Hello, Dean. How are you?”

“Get me out of here!”

It was then Dean knew something was wrong. Not wrong in the sense he didn't believe she wasn't actually there. On the contrary he believed in her presence one hundred percent.

“No, Dean, I don't think I'll be doing that.”

Dean started to panic, breath panting. “Wh—what? What do you—Dove, stop messing around and get me out of here! Alistair will be here any second—”

Dove walked forward. “I'm not here to save you, Dean. I'm here to deliver a message.”

Dean licked his lips, utterly confused.

“Do you know what it was like,” Dove continued coldly, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Dean as she spoke, sometimes looking at him, sometimes not, “being in The Empty?”

Dean swallowed. “N-no. Look, Dove, can we talk about this later, please? I just want to leave—”

“I'M NOT DONE!”

Dean slammed his mouth shut. Dove cackled maniacally. Fear began to seep into Dean's bones. He swallowed.

“I would have preferred this—Hell. Because at least there was something. Negativity, whether it be emotions, or pain, is something. In The Empty?” She stopped her pacing and came directly in front of Dean, glaring. “There was nothing.”

Dean blinked.

“I was alone. Utterly alone. There was no pain nor pleasure. There wasn't even light. Never ending darkness. I walked, and I walked, and then I stopped because it was futile. I was alone.”

Dove started pacing again, eyebrow arched. “You Dean? Here? At least you have your demons. I. Had. Nothing. Forgotten. Discarded.”

“You were never forgotten,” Dean tried to argue. “We tried to get you out. You know that—”

“Ah yes, Cas told me that, in our journal.”

Dean blinked. The vitriolic way she had said his name was bewildering.

Dove laughed cruelly. “Cas Cas Cas. You know, that guy is an asshole.”

“Hey!”

“What?” Dove looked over her shoulder, smirking. “He is. Well, was.”

Dean immediately felt faint. “What do you mean, was?”

“He got what was coming to him.”

“Dove,” Dean breathed, panicking.

Dove laughed again. “Oh Dean! You should see the look on your face! No, silly, he's not dead!”

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“He's in The Empty.”

Dean looked at her in disbelief. “What?”

“It was a lie, Dean! It was all a lie!” Dove snarled, eyes glowing pink.

“What are you talking about?” Dean demanded, losing patience. “What's a lie? If Cas’s not dead, why is he in The Empty?”

“Because I put him there.”

The first licks of rage hit Dean. The logical side of his brain was ringing alarms though, and he tapped the anger down. Dean shook his head. “That doesn't make sense. What the f*ck are you taking about, Dove?”

She laughed, eyes still glowing. “I found out you all betrayed me! Well, lack of action I guess isn't a direct betrayal, but close enough.”

“Wha—”

“You guys didn't look for me!” She shrieked suddenly.

“What?! Yes we did!”

“No you didn't!”

“We did!”

Dove clutched at her head, eyes glowing even brighter. “f*ck you! No you didn't! Cas admitted to me that you were top priority, that getting you out of here was top priority!”

“That's simply not true!”

“Yes it is! I was a fool, Dean Winchester! I gave my trust to you all. I gave my heart to you all! And Cas placated me, spun me lies in the journal because he feared my power, feared my retribution!”

“Look, Dove,” Dean said desperately, tears starting to gather in his eyes. “I don't know what is going on but you have to listen to me, sweetie.”

“Don't call me that!”

“Dammit, Dove! Listen to me!” he shouted. “We looked how to get you out! I looked into how to get you out! This doesn't make sense—this doesn't make any f*cking sense—”

“Let me show you, Dean,” Dove snarled and leapt forward, clutching either side of his head.

Dean's vision swam, bombarded with images. Cas—his Cas—was weeping.

“We were afraid of Ma’at,” Cas was telling Dove. “We didn't want to be thrown into The Empty, too. I'm sorry, Dove, I'm so sorry—”

With a shriek of rage, Dove let go of his head. She stood before him, panting. Dean shook his head both in disbelief and trying to clear his head of the false images.

“That's not how it happened at all!”

“Oh, so you're calling Cas, the man you love, the only thing you've ever opened yourself up enough to love unconditionally, a liar?!”

Dean opened his mouth several times to try to speak, but he couldn't. His head was spinning and throbbing. This didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Until it did.

A shiver rammed into Dean. The rage crept back into the very fibers of his being.

It wasn't Dove's fault this had happened, not if someone, or something, had gotten into her head and planted false-memories. He shouldn't be angry at her. But he was starting to lose that battle, angrily mortified she had thrown Cas into The Empty under false pretenses.

“You listen to me now, Dove,” Dean said in a low voice, eyes narrowed. “Someone got into your head.”

Dove shook her head and crossed her arms. “Why should I listen to you?”

Dean finally started to give into his anger. “Because it's me, Dove! It's me! You're like a sister to me—no, you are my sister! You're one of my best friends—”

“Family doesn't leave family behind to rot!”

“THAT'S NOT WHAT I DID!” Dean bellowed then, struggling against his chains, even though it made his newly formed flesh crack and bleed.

“f*ck you, Dean!”

“Let me show you!” he shouted, struggling desperately. “Grab my head! Let me show you my memories!”

“Falsities,” Dove snapped, assured in her conviction. “Nothing you can do or say will change what I know in my heart of hearts. You all liked me better in The Empty—”

“No—”

“Because I could be controlled there—”

“No—”

“Contained—”

“No!”

“Because I was nothing but an unstable variable to you, a tool to be used!”

“f*ck—no—just—DOVE!”

Dove got up into his face, her nose crinkled in anger. “When you had no use for me I was gone! I gave Cas his grace back, so I didn't matter anymore! I never mattered to you!”

“If that was true would I have taken in your daughter? Would I have jumped at the chance to protect something of yours, your own flesh and blood?”

“You did that for Castiel! You had a misguided loyalty to my Castiel, a bleed-over from your own! You took her in because she's his daughter! I had nothing to do with it!”

“THAT'S NOT TRUE!”

Dove grabbed his face in one hand so hard his lips puckered, cheeks smooshed. Her eyes flared pink.

“I hate you all,” she whispered in a flat voice, “but I hate you most of all. You fed me your altruistic bullsh*t and made me believe in you, Dean. I never should have believed in you. You hurt me so badly, and I want you to suffer as I have.”

Dean tried to move his head but she wouldn't allow him to.

“So I've taken the person that means the most to you, taken your heart, and I've thrown him into the Empty. I've thrown him into The Empty and had Ma’at and Rowena seal it permanently. I have Chuck's blessing.”

Dove angrily shoved his face away and she laughed. “He's never getting out, Dean. You might, but you're never seeing Cas again.”

Dean felt like the universe had dropped out from under him. For the first time in forty years, he gave in—it was hopeless. Dove noticed how dull Dean's eyes became and she thrust her pointer finger against his forehead, opened up his mind and cracked it like a nut; she poured images into him, pictures out of a pitcher. Dean saw Rowena and Ma’at chanting, trapping Cas. Dean saw Chuck shake his head, give a sigh and muttering, “There was always something broken with that one.”

When Dove removed her hand and closed the connection, Dean's heart closed. There wasn't a point. Someone he cared about deeply, someone who was family, threw the person he loved into The Empty and made it so he would never escape.

Dean was done.

Dean dropped his head, going limp.

“Alistair,” Dean muttered.

Nothing happened.

“Alistair.”

Nothing.

Dean lifted his head and screamed, drawn out, unleashing his pain and anger. “ALISTAIR!”

Dean started to thrash. He welcomed the pain, fed off it, used it as fuel for his anger. Dove slowly started to smirk, watching him.

In the forty years Dean had never said Alistair’s name like that, a beckoning, a summon. The fact that the demon didn't come immediately made him even angrier. Dean thrashed madly, throwing all his weight against the hooks. With a sickening sound the one at his shoulder ripped out. He screamed in agony, but it gave him release; even though it hurt, he took himself off the hooks, sobbing. When he was free, he laid at Dove's feet. He was laughing and sobbing all at once.

He was lost.

“ALISTAIR!”

“Yes, Dean?”Alistair said calmly, suddenly in the room.

When Dean lifted his head, he wasn't Dean. His green eyes were dead.

“Get someone in here, now. I accept it.”

“What do you accept, Dean?”

Dean narrowed his eyes and smiled. “I'm ready to be a Knight.”

~

Dove gasped and bolted upright in her bed, eyes flying open. Her breath came out as ragged breaths, and she could feel sweat trickling down her temple.

“Dove,” Dean said immediately, sitting up.

Dove looked over at him and screwed up her face. With a shaking hand, she touched her forehead. “Dean? What're you—what're you doing here?”

The tips of his ears colored, and he looked down at his shirt and jeans. “Uh, I apparently fell asleep. Sorry about that.”

Dove blinked at him rapidly, trying to wrap her mind around everything.

“Dove,” Dean said in deep worry then. “Hey. You okay? What's wrong?”

Dove took in a deep, slow breath, and closed her eyes. Holding the breath a moment, she let it back out just as slowly. It wasn't until she inhaled again did she open her eyes. She forced a smile, rubbing at her forehead.

“I'm fine. I just got…confused for a second.”

Dean rubbed his eye and then looked at his wrist watch. “It's only three in the morning, Dove. We should probably get some more sleep.”

“Yeah. Sleep. Right.”

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and scratched his head. After some hesitation, he looked over his shoulder at Dove.

“Uh…want me to leave, or—”

“Stay!” Dove said desperately. Then, calmer, “Please, stay.”

“Sure.” He looked her up and down, concern etched on his face. “Let me shut off the light.”

He slipped out of his boots and turned off the light, plunging them into darkness. It wasn't until Dean was back in bed did Dove lay back down. They snuggled together. After a moment of shifting under the covers, Dean craned his neck, trying to look at Dove's face.

“You sure you're okay? Your heart’s beating fast.”

Dove bit her lip. Then, she spoke quietly.

“I had this awful dream about Dean.” Dove made random shapes along his pec with her finger. “The other Dean.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He…I…”

“Hey. You don't have to talk about it.”

Her brow furrowed. “No, I want to, it was just…confusing. I was there with Dean in Hell, but I was feeding him lies. I told him I had thrown Cas into The Empty and that he was never going to see Cas again.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, even if that did happen, you got out, right?”

Dove shook her head. “I told him I had Chuck and Ma’at seal it, permanently, so he could never get out.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Dean asked gruffly, sounding like he wanted to believe what she was telling him was preposterous, but clearly was worried because she was so disturbed by the dream.

Dove paused. “Because I said that you all didn't look for how to get me out of The Empty.”

Dean frowned.

“It seemed so real, too,” Dove said, barely above a whisper. “I didn't believe that anyone had tried to find me. I thought everyone was so concerned with breaking Dean's contract and saving him from the Hellhounds that they didn't—they didn't care about me—”

Dean cut her off when she sounded near tears. “Hey…That didn't happen though.”

“I know, but it felt so real…”

For a long time neither spoke. Even so, they each knew the other was still awake. As such, Dean finally whispered,

“You don't—you don't think that—”

“I d'no what to think of it,” Dove said sadly.

Dean paused. “We should tell Cas in the morning.”

Dove nodded. “Yeah. We'll tell Cas.”

“First thing.”

“First thing.”

Dean held her close and kissed the top of her head. It took awhile but eventually both fell back into an uneasy sleep, worried about the Dean in Hell.

Chapter 34

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas, meanwhile, was having his own upsetting dream.

“Sam wouldn't remember this. He was a baby. After mom died, a service was held. It was mainly her side of the family, the Campbells. Of course there was Winchesters too. Everyone loved mom; it was hard not to.

“I don't know if the grave actually had a body or not, or if it was just an empty hole with a headstone that had mom's name on it. Didn't matter because everyone gathered for the funeral. Bobby was there—you remember me talking about Bobby, right? Dad's best friend, had a hunter pal named Rufus? Anyway, Bobby wanted to go with us in the car, but dad insisted that he just wanted to drive by himself with his boys.

“When he got there, dad said—he said he'd be right back. That there were just some things he wanted to say, and that he'd be right back. So he scooped up baby Sam in his arms, ambled out of the car, and went to the funeral.

“I sat there and watched. It was kinda boring. But I remember being angry because it's like—it's like he forgot I missed mom just as much as he did. I don't know if he thought I couldn't handle it, or maybe he wanted to protect me, but he never asked me what I wanted. I wanted to be there though. I wanted to say goodbye to my mom. And I was too little to understand this, but now I really wish I'd have been there because it would've been the last time I saw my flesh and blood family. My aunts and uncles, grandparents, all that jazz.

“I d'no. Dad used to tell me to hold my head up high and not cry. He told me mom wouldn't want me to be sad. And I believe that, I do.

“But maybe I wanted to be sad.”

Cas slowly opened his eyes. In the nearly four months since Dean had been dragged off to Hell, he still instinctively reached out for the man upon waking up. When Cas’ hand landed on the empty mattress, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Mornings like these were particularly rough on Cas, when he awoke from dreams that were memories and he just wanted to hold onto Dean.

But there was nothing to hold onto.

He was mildly surprised when he was up and dressed that he found Dean and Dove waiting patiently for him. Cas listened carefully to Dove explain her dream. He said he didn't believe it was anything serious, anything to worry about. He believed her that it seemed real, just as the other dream she had where she had tried to get him out of Hell…when he had been strapped to the table and hadn't believed it was her. When he had been dragged away from her by an invisible force, and he had begged her not to let him go. It took awhile, but eventually Dove's unease was quelled.

Cas kept it to himself that he believed her, believed that something was happening and her dream had been more than just a dream. Because of that, the time frame in his head for going to Hell bumped up a few weeks given this new information. If Dean had accepted Knighthood…

Cas tried to convince himself it had just been a dream.

The next few days went by smoothly. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, as much as they could be with the impending battle ahead. Raven had gone to her own universe to visit Belle, saying she and her father would be back the minute Cas said it was time to go. Everyone noticed how sad Sam became over Raven leaving, even though he thought he hid it well.

To cheer him up, Dove cooked Sam his dinner, much to Dean’s dismay over the chicken, salad, and vegetables. Sam was quick to show his appreciation by jumping in to help chop everything up.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to eat much anymore. This is just foul.” Dean scowled down at Sam's plate. “How does anyone willingly eat this stuff?”

“It’s good for you, Dean. You’d think being an angel now, you’d understand just how important it is for humans to take care of their bodies,” Sam responded before shoving a fork full of salad into his mouth.

“My body is just fine and I didn’t eat that crap.”

“I’m sure you were a couple burgers away from a heart attack before you were angelfied.” Sam said, stabbing his fork into the salad once more.

“I hate that I can’t even taste the bacon or beef anymore,” Dean said with a frown.

“Aww, is Dean pouting over bacon?” Dove laughed, handing Sam a glass of iced tea.

“Hell yeah, I’m pouting over bacon. It’s bacon!”

Sam rolled his eyes playfully and thanked Dove for the tea.

“You can’t taste it?” Dove asked.

“I taste everything in such an intense way,” Dean responded.

“You’re tasting molecules.”

Cas had appeared in the hall. He walked in and looked down at Sam’s plate, nodding in approval.

“Good. The grilled chicken and salad will help with your endurance.”

Sam stopped, fork halfway in his mouth, and pulled it out. “Does that mean it’s time?”

“Close. It’s getting close. Keep eating like this.” He gestured to Sam’s plate.

“As for your comment about Dean being a burger away from a heart attack, you’re not far off.” He glanced at Dean. “The two of you just got lucky.”

“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it,” Sam stated, shoving chicken in his mouth.

“What’s that mean?” Dove asked, sitting down.

Cas pulled out the chair next to her and sat.

“In our universe, we were chosen vessel's.” Sam swallowed down a horrible memory and continued. “I have a feeling our health would have stayed pristine, no matter what we ate.”

“Well, I’m sure it helped with the jobs you guys do. All these cases, it’s strenuous work. You stay in shape,” Dove responded.

Cas laughed.

“What?” Dove asked.

Cas shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No. What?” Dean asked.

“Well, what Sam is saying is partly true. Angels made sure the Winchesters were always safe and fit. But Sam always took care of himself. It was mainly Dean that was focused on.”

Dove glanced at Dean, who scowled at Cas.

“Think about it, look at how you ate before you became an angel,” Cas continued.

“So? I was active,” Dean argued.

“Being active isn’t always enough when all you’re eating is greasy foods, Dean,” Cas stated. “Look at yourself.” He gestured up and down Dean.

Dean looked down at himself. “What about me?”

“You’re fit. You think without help you’d be lean like this? You ate nothing but grease.”

Dean glowered. “Hey.”

Cas shook his head. “I’m not saying it in a negative way. Don’t get me wrong. You look good. But being an angel, you could look better.” He shrugged and added, “If you wanted to.”

Dean’s brow furrowed.

“What? There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks, Cas. He’s damn attractive,” Dove argued, but then quickly slammed her mouth shut when she realized what she blurted out.

Dean smirked, his ego growing a little.

“Alright. Sam, make sure you rest up tonight,” Cas said and quickly fell back into Commander mode. Sam nodded, finishing his plate and standing. Dove reached over and took it from him.

“I’ll wash it. If Cas is right and the time is nearing, you need as much rest as possible.”

Sam nodded, suddenly looking solemn. He turned and exited, heading to his room.

“Cas,” Dove said quietly. When Cas acknowledged her, she asked something that had been weighing on her mind for a while. “Do you think we’re ready?”

“No.”

Dove and Dean’s eyes both found Cas’ and they stared at him, concerned.

“Is anyone ever truly ready to go to Hell?” Cas asked. “We’re as ready as we can be. That, I can say for sure.”

Later that evening, Castiel and Raven came back from their universe with wonderful news. Belle had finally woken up, though not happy she was stuck as a seven-year-old child

“She is in high spirits, everything considered,” Castiel reported. “Sam is doing well taking care of her, catering to whatever needs she may have, being a seven-year-old little girl.”

“There has to be a way to fix her,” Raven fretted as everyone sat in the library with the Sam from the current universe, the other still staying behind to take care of Belle. Sam had taken to looking through any books that he thought might be helpful, but was coming up short.

“We have to accept that she’s most likely never changing back, Rave,” Dove said gently, smoothing down her hair as she walked by her.

Raven rested her head in her hands, breathing in a deep breath. Then she sat up straight. “That’s ok. I won’t stop trying to find a way.”

Dove smiled down at her daughter, a sad smile on her lips. She knew Raven wouldn’t give in until she found a way to fix Belle.

“After Hell, I’ll help you with anything I can,” Dove promised, and Raven smiled up at her before returning her eyes to the book in front of her.

Dove excused herself then to turn in for the night. One by one everyone turned in, Raven and Sam last.

“We should get to sleep soon,” Raven said after a point, rubbing her eye. “Cas has been pressing us to get plenty of rest.”

Sam had only been half-listening. He shut a book and got to his feet. As he walked to the shelf, he was muttering to himself.

“Well that didn't turn up any spells…Maybe Rowena could cook something up…”

Raven smirked. “Sam.”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Hmm?”

She laughed. “I said we should go to bed.”

Sam exploded into a blush. Before she could do anything more than a head tilt, he spoke at a clipped pace.

“Yeah. We should turn in. Separately. To our own rooms. You're right. G'nite, Rave!”

Raven opened her mouth but Sam was already gone.

Chapter 35

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Raven was sitting at the kitchen table. The coffee in front of her had long since stopped steaming. She stared at the dark liquid surface, unblinking. Her mind was active, the opposite of her outward demeanor.

Raven couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried. Her head was a mess—a mess over Belle, a mess over their impending trip to Hell that might be a suicide mission. A mess over Sam…

She distracted herself from her Sam-related turmoil by doing an emotional sweep of the bunker as she made herself some coffee. As it brewed, she found most everyone sleep and peaceful. Except uncle Cas.

Cas was in his room with melancholic energy pulsing from him. He was currently listening to a song about angels; it wasn't happy though, and his heart was heavy. She wanted to wash him with good feelings, thoughts that proved his importance because he suddenly was lacking in self-worth. Raven also wanted to give him space to muddle through it; her presence wasn't known, and she tried so hard to be unobtrusive with her powers. The emotional waves that crashed into her were unavoidable though, a fact—a burden—that she kept close to the vest. Or tried to, anyway.

“Are you going to have your drink or just stare at it?”

Raven blinked and then lifted her head. Sam stood in the doorway, smirking slightly. When she blinked profusely to clear her head of the song Cas sang in lament, Sam’s expression dropped into a frown. He took a step into the room.

“You okay?”

“Hmm? What? Oh, yeah,” Raven replied as her brain caught up and processed his words. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she gave him a genuine smile.

Sam walked forward and bent slightly at the waist. He frowned at the liquid. “Really? Your coffee looks cold and there’s some dust floating around in it.”

“There is?” Raven also frowned and peered into the cup. When she saw he was right, she slumped back into her seat. “Oh.”

“How long have you been sitting here for?”

“Oh. Uh, I d’no,” she said. Twisting in her seat to look at the analog clock on the wall, she chose not to share that she had been sitting there for two hours.

Sam pulled out the chair across from her. Instead of sitting right away, he suddenly hesitated. “Er, do you mind…?”

Raven smiled again and her entire face lit up. “Why would I mind, Sam? I enjoy your company.”

Sam sat, hoping his face wasn’t flushed. “You do?”

Raven laughed. “Of course I do!” She tilted her head, brows slightly drawn together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply but a jarring amount of emotions hit Raven first. Guilt. Shame. The angel blinked, trying to ignore it all. She failed though when she felt something she hadn’t felt come off of Sam before–uncertainty, self-consciousness, and heavy self-loathing. His outward appearance was still just Sam; in fact, the absolute disconnect between the two was something she hadn't encountered except in the duel Dean’s. It was heartbreaking to her that Sam could mask his emotions just as well as his elder brother.

“You just seem to be enjoying your alone time,” he replied easily, playful and mischievous glint in his eye masking what was really there. “I mean, the dust in your coffee proves it.”

Raven rolled her eyes and waved her hand over the mug once; the film on top was gone and it was steaming again. Blowing on the once more hot liquid, she raised the mug to her lips with both eyebrows raised. “Are you okay?”

Sam was caught off-guard. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sam.” Raven put her mug down and crossed her arms. “You can’t bullsh*t me.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh. Right.”

Raven leaned forward. “So, c’mon. Out with it.”

“You’re an angel,” he told her immediately.

“Yeah, so?”

“So?”

“Cas is an angel. Mom’s an angel. Dean is an angel now.”

“Yeah but you’re powerful.”

Raven laughed. “And Cas isn’t?”

“You’re old.”

“Uh-huh. And once again, Cas is older.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Raven opened her mouth but then slammed it shut. She certainly hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

Sam took a deep breath. “You’re intimidating.”

“No–that’s not what you said.”

“But it’s what I meant.”

Raven co*cked her head again. “Uh…I mean, thank you for the compliment, but how is me being gorgeous intimidating?”

Sam slid his hands under the table to try and conceal how nervous he was. He should have known by now it radiated off him and it didn’t matter how he conducted himself. “Because look at me? I’m this gangly meat mountain that barely fits into doorways with a huge forehead?”

Raven sat straight in her chair. “Your features suit you Sam.”

He gave a small smile. “Thanks, but they don’t, not really.”

Raven opened her mouth but then slowly closed it. His emotions became a mess of confusion, like a length of yarn all tangled in itself. She turned her head to the side and gave him the side-eye. “There’s…something happening here and I don’t think I understand. What is happening?”

“I just…”

Raven raised both eyebrows when he didn't continue. “Yes?”

Sam lurched to his feet. “Nevermind. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“What?” Raven got to her feet. “Sam. Sam! Sam?”

He didn't heed her call. So instead she followed him out of the kitchen.

“I'm going for a walk,” he told her over his shoulder as he plowed through the hallways.

“I'll come with!”

“Rave—you don't have to.”

“I want to though.”

Sam sighed but didn't argue. He also didn't slow his quickened pace at all, making her scurry after him. When Raven had finally caught up to him in the grass of the front lawn, she reached out and touched him. It was like she had received a jolt of lightning; touching him made what he was feeling spring to life within her mind and, unfortunately, most of what he was feeling was bad. She yanked her hand back and held it to her chest. The brief touch had been enough to get Sam to stop though.

Nostrils flared, he looked down at her. “Don't, okay? Don't.”

“But Sam,” she said, voice hitching when he started to stride away again and she lunged forward to keep up. She walked beside him, looking up into his face that refused to meet her gaze. “I don't understand. How can I stop doing whatever is upsetting you when I don't even know what I'm doing!”

“You're not doing anything.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because of a Freudian slip?”

Raven paused. Had she not been other worldly she would have started to become out of breath; his pace was quick, his strides long, and she was a good foot shorter than he was. “I don't understand what that means—”

“I said something I didn't mean to say.”

“Oh. Well, it's alright, what is it?”

Sam stopped walking and rounded on Raven. The look he gave her was a little bit cruel. “Does being oblivious run in your gene pool?”

Raven stared up at him for a moment. “What? No…I don't…think so—”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I like you, Raven.”

Raven blinked. “Oh. Well…I like you too, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I mean I like you.”

“Uh… Yeah. We just established that—”

“Nevermind. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

When Sam turned around and he looked sad, so sad, Raven suddenly got it. All of it.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Sam hadn't heard her though, having started to walk away again. “What was I thinking?”

“Sam, wait!”

But he didn't.

“Sam. Sam!” When he still didn't stop, Raven stomped her foot and put her hands on her hips. “Samuel Winchester!”

Sam stopped. Slowly he turned around, brow a wrinkled mess. He looked at her incredulously. “Did you just call me Samuel?”

She nodded once.

“Don't call me that.”

She puckered her lips.

“No one calls me that.”

Raven dropped her hands to her sides and walked over. It wasn't until she stood directly in front of him did her disposition change and become softer. She gently rested her hands on his arms and peered up into his face. “Sam.”

Sam stepped away. “What're you doing?”

“We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don't. In fact, I'd rather not. I shouldn't have—shouldn't have said anything at all.” Sam backed away a few steps before turning around and walking away. “I'm sorry.”

Raven paused. Then she took a step forward. “What if I'm not?”

Sam stopped walking and slowly turned around. “What?”

“Sam,” she said with a smile she tried to conceal the bashfulness from. “Maybe I'm not the only oblivious one here?”

Sam blinked. Raven walked forward until she stood directly in front of him. She looked up at him. Allowing herself to this moment, Raven tentatively did a scan of Sam's emotions—disbelief. Trepidation. Fear. Cautious hope. Slowly as though he were a wounded animal she reached out, barely brushing the fabric of his shirt with her fingertips. She held her hand there.

“Sam—I've liked you like that for a while now.”

Sam stumbled away and closed his eyes for a second. Nostrils flared, he looked at her. “Don't say that.”

Raven couldn't save herself from looking hurt. “Why not? You'd rather I lie?”

“It's—weird.”

Raven co*cked her head. “How so?”

“I thought you were seven.”

“Alright. But I'm not.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“What?! I'm not!”

“I know that now, but I'm just—I'm having trouble reconciling that in my head.”

Still treating him like a scared animal, Raven approached him slowly. “But why?”

Sam huffed. “Because I knew you as a kid first. I fear that—”

Sam didn't finish that sentence.

Raven stood directly in front of him once more. Tentatively, shly, she slipped her hand into his and looked hopeful. “What do you fear, Sam?”

Sam turned his head to look away. “I'm afraid I'm always going to see you as a kid. That's just…gross.”

Raven gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. “Well what about this. Why don't we put all this—” she held up their clasped hands, “—on hold until you've known me as an adult for longer than you have a kid.”

Sam seemed to consider it, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Or however long it takes. Until you're comfortable.”

Sam swiveled his head to her. “Why would you do that?”

She dropped their hands and let go. “Do what?”

“Wait for me.”

She smiled up at him. “Because I think you're worth the wait.”

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief. Still smiling, Raven looked into his eyes. “If being oblivious runs in my genes, then needing more self-worth runs in yours.”

That made Sam blush a little.

Raven went up on her tip-toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. When she rocked back, Sam was looking at her in awe. She grinned and squeezed his hand. To really drive the point home, she brought their hands up and kissed his knuckles too.

“I'm telling you, Samuel, you're worth the wait.”

“Don't call me that,” he breathed out, lacking gumption.

She wrinkled her nose and laughed, walking back to the bunker. When she reached the stairs she turned around and called out to him. “You coming or what?”

Sam didn't move. Then, shaking his head in disbelief, he chuckled and hurried towards her and the possibilities that had just opened for him.

When the pair entered the bunker, they were greeted by blood-curdling screams. Raven's eyes bulged, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Mom!”

The pair ran down the stairs towards the horrible panicked screams of pain.

~

Dove had been dreaming.

She was back in the black, brimstone hallway. Only this time she had a self-awareness about her, knew she was dreaming. They hadn’t figured out if they were dreamwalking situations or if Dove was seeing a glimpse of what was happening. She was starting to think perhaps they were just what they were; nightmares. What she was sure of though was they made her uncomfortable and downright terrified to go to Hell.

Dove quietly navigated the halls this time, not wanting to bring attention to the fact she was possibly subconsciously traveling to Hell via dreams. Was that even possible? These were just dreams. Right?

Dove opened the doors to the throne room and looked around. Surprisingly, it was empty again. She walked through and over to the doors behind the throne, slipping through and making her way through the long corridor. Dove reached the room where she had found Dean before and peeked in. It was empty.

Screams startled me. Dove jumped and turned around, looking to see if she had been caught. Breathing a sigh of relief when no one was there, she quickly made her way towards the screaming, praying she wouldn’t find Dean chained to a bed again. Dove heard another scream, and then a voice mocking the screamer. Dove was too stunned to believe what she had heard.

Slowly, Dove approached the room and peered around the corner. She gasped, completely and utterly horrified as she saw a woman strung up on chains, meat hooks through her skin. Her skin ripped and torn where they entered. But what horrified Dove most was the man standing in front of her with a carving knife.

Dove took a step inside, and her stomach turned at the sight of blood dripping from this woman’s wounds, missing skin, and chunks of muscle that were gone. Laid out next to the man was a table organized neatly with different knives and torture devices.

“Please,” the woman cried. “Please.”

“Suck it up, lady. This is nothing compared to what could happen to you. I’m going easy on you!”

Dove stared at the man, traumatized by what she was seeing and hearing. She wanted to cry but was too terrified to. Dove had to cover her mouth as he sank a sharp blade into the woman's leg, carving out the thigh muscle.

“Dean,” Dove finally gasped, tears running down her face.

Dean spun around, still clutching a knife. He stared at Dove with such hatred that she took a step back.

“You!”

He charged at Dove without warning.

Dove stumbled backward and darted out the door. He chased her through the halls, down a long and dark hallway. She tried door after door, all of them locked. When Dove reached the end of the hall, she pressed herself flat against the wall and watched in terror as Dean Winchester stalked towards her with black eyes.

“Dean. Oh, Dean. What did you do?” Dove cried.

“Dean! Oh Dean!” he mocked, sneering at me. “Don’t play with me, bitch!”

He stopped right in front of Dove, looking at her as if she were the thing he hated most in the world.

“Dean, listen to me. I don’t know if this is real, but you need to come with me either way.”

He laughed maniacally. “Where to? The Empty?”

“W-what?” Dove asked, frozen in fear. She absolutely was not going back there.

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. I’m no longer the weak little Winchester that Alistair was playing with. I’m no longer your guys’ toy. No. You answer to me now. In fact, bow down.” When she didn't, he bellowed, “Now!”

Dove stared at him, bewildered. She only snapped out of it because of the sharp stinging pain of his blade being thrust into her ribs. She screamed out, grabbing her side, and started fighting him off.

“Dean, it’s me! It’s me, Dove!”

She held her hand up, covered in blooda. She yanked the knife out and tried to heal the wound, but Dean jumped forward. Dove struggled against him; his strength surprised her. When she looked up into his eyes pleadingly, he stared back with black orbs.

“Dean,” Dove cried.

“Yeah. Say my name, sweetheart.” He leaned forward, running the blade along the side of her neck and whispered into her ear, “I’ll have you screaming my name by the time I’m done with you.”

He grabbed Dove by the hair and shoved her forward, using the fist full of hair to guide her where to go. Opening a door, he shoved her inside with such force she fell to the floor. When she got up and turned around, eyes glowing, Dean was right there. He thrust another knife he had strapped to his leg into Dove's stomach. She screamed and gripped the handle. Before she could pull it completely out he took another knife from inside his jacket and stabbed her left shoulder, yanking it out right away.

Dove stumbled, tears falling from her eyes.

“Dean, please. I want to help you.”

“You don’t want to help. You wanted to come back and finish your job. Well, you can’t torture me anymore.” Dean grabbed another knife, yanked hastily out of his boot, and sliced down her arm. “I’m the one in charge of the torture now.”

Dove tried to get away, refusing to hurt him. She clutched at the knife at her stomach as she stumbled and fled.

He grinned, crinkled his nose with nothing but hatred in his eyes. “You know, I’d never have accepted this job if it weren’t for you. So, I guess in a dark twisted way, I have you to thank for getting me off the hooks. You made me see just how ugly people are. You made me realize that even the ones that love you the most can be the ones to hurt you the most.”

He walked around and snatched the knife, yanking it from her stomach. She fell forward, crying out in agony.

“Dean, I don’t know what you saw or think I did to you, but it wasn’t me. I’d never hurt you or anyone I love, Dean. Please believe me.”

Dean flicked his wrist and an angel blade appeared. He walked over, running his fingers through her hair, grabbing a handful and yanking her head back. Dove saw something out of the corner of her eye and looked—

Crowley was peering through the crack in the door.

Dean pulled the angel blade back and Dove closed her eyes, tears falling from them. Just as he thrust it forward, Dove gasped—

And found herself sitting in bed, completely soaked with sweat. Flailing her hands, she turned the light on and sucked in a breath when she realized it wasn’t sweat she was soaked in.

It was her blood.

The gashes, stab wounds, and slices were still there.

They were real. It was all real.

Dove screamed.

Chapter 36

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

CAS!” Dove shrieked, turning her arm to look at the cut. She lifted her shirt to look at the stab wound in her stomach and blood seeped down, drenching the blanket.

“CAS! Oh my god. CAS!” Dove screamed, sheer panic coursing through her.

Her entire body shook with so much fear she was vibrating from it, overwhelmed with nausea. Unable to hold back anymore, Dove crawled to her hands and knees and vomited over the bed onto the floor.

Cas appeared in her room instantly, his eyes wide with horror when he saw the state Dove was in. Footsteps were running down the hall then, multiple people. Raven appeared in the room looking winded and flushed from sprinting. Right beside her was Sam, and they had arrived only moments after Castiel had.

“What happened?” Cas asked, horrified, rushing forward.

“It was real. They were real.” Dove stopped, feeling as if she were going to be sick again, and gagged. When nothing came up, she continued. “I don’t know how but they’re real.” Dove looked down at herself with wide eyes, tears still falling.

“What’s going on?” Dean appeared in the door. As soon as he saw her, he hurried in and stood with the others.

Dove held her arm out and lifted her shirt, showing the stab wounds.

“Who did this?” Castiel asked, resting his hands on her and healing her, waving away the vomit on the floor.

Dove stared past Castiel at Cas, tears still falling from her eyes.

“Cas, the nightmares are real.” Dove stood and walked to him. “We have to go, now. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Go where?” Sam asked.

“Tell us what’s going on, Dove.” Dean added, worried over the state she had just been in before being healed.

Dove turned around and grabbed pants to step into.

“We need to get to Hell now.” she said, pulling her pants up.

“What? We still have—” Raven started but Dove interrupted it.

“Dean did this to me,” Dovs said and looked at Cas, panicked. “Cas, he’s torturing people. He’s a Knight of Hell!”

Cas’ face contorted. He stared at Dove in horror, not wanting to believe what was said.

“He wanted to kill me,” Dove exclaimed. “He was going to kill me!”

Dove broke down and allowed Dean to take her into his arms.

“We’ll gather in the war room shortly and talk about what to do,” Dean said. “We can’t go in there guns blazing without a plan.”

“That’s what this entire training stint was supposed to be.” Dove said and pulled out of his arms. “Planning and training, right?” Looking at Cas, she asked, “Are we ready to go?”

Cas swallowed nervously. Not nervous over going to Hell, no; he knew that was happening before Dean was even taken. He had no fear at all about ripping Hell apart looking for him. What rattled his nerves was what he would find when they did get to him. Would what they found he be his Dean? Or would Hell have completely taken him over, wiping everything he used to be and stood for from him?

“Dove’s right.” Cas looked at everyone. “We need to go. But I need to warn you; if he’s a Knight of Hell now…” His eyes fell on Dove. “He no longer has his humanity. Nothing about who we are going to find will be Dean Winchester.”

Raven wiped away tears, not wanting to draw attention to herself as she listened to Cas. Sam quickly gave her a one-armed hug.

“If he’s willing to do this,” Cas continued, gesturing to Dove, “to someone he deeply cares for...”

Cas shook his head and closed his eyes as he thought about the horrible possibilities, unable to finish speaking.

“We’ll get him back to being Dean,” Dove said with strong conviction, pulling her hair up into a bun. She wasn’t making the mistake of giving Dean something to yank her around by again. “We just have to get him first.”

“You still want to go with us?” Cas asked. “I wouldn’t blame you nor hold it against you if you didn’t.”

Dove co*cked her head to the side and stared at him incredulously. She suddenly wasn’t sure Cas understood just how much his group meant to her. If he did, how could he have even thought she wouldn’t want to help still?

“You’re kidding, right? Because after what just happened to me, it makes me want to run in there full speed, right this instant. I want him out of there, Cas! Just as bad as you do.”

“Ok. I just want you to know that I would understand,” Cas reiterated.

Dove's paused. Then she looked at everyone else and said, “Can Cas and I have a minute alone?”

After everyone had left the room and Dove closed the door behind them, she took Cas’ hands and looked into his eyes. She needed to prove how serious she was without an audience.

“You’ve become family, Cas. So has Sam and Dean. I don’t care if Dean would have removed my skin, cut out my heart, or anything else. I’d still be first in line to run in there and get him out.”

Cas lowered his gaze to the floor. For the first time since they had started training, he wasn’t hiding behind his tough Commanding Officer facade, allowing Dove to see past that and see the broken man he’d become. Dove pulled him in, wrapping her arms around him, and hugged him. They both stood there without speaking, just taking in the moment. Cas hugged her tighter and closed his eyes. Dove leaned back and made him look at her.

“I need to know that you are fully aware that this is no longer the Dean you fell in love with.”

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“I know. It was the worst thing I feared. Him accepting a Knighthood,” he admitted quietly.

She rested a hand on his cheek. “I know, and I am so, so sorry it's come to this.”

Cas nodded but didn't speak.

“Alright. Now that that's out of the way and my nerves are calmed and I don’t feel like my heart is going to burst, let’s go finalize this plan.”

Cas smiled and squeezed Dove one last time before kissing her cheek and letting go.

“Thanks, Dove.”

“No need to thank me. You’re my best friend, Cas. I mean that.” She smiled. “Now, we need our bossy Commander back. Think you can dig deep and find him?”

He raised an eyebrow, giving a co*cky grin. “I think I can manage that.” He winked and walked out of the room.

~

When Cas returned after telling the group he would be back shortly, he looked as everyone had come to know him; dressed once more in his tan trench coat and business attire. He also appeared flanked by his loyal, forty-strong garrison. For a moment everyone stood at the ready, waiting for their General to speak.

“I feel like you're all expecting me to give a speech,” Cas said, sweeping his eyes around the gathering (Dean had chuckled, because it was such a Castiel thing to do, state the obvious, and it made him feel fond as f*ck.) “I don't know what to say except that I have confidence in all of you, and that I feel that—no, I know that—we are as prepared as we can be. You are all capable beyond my wildest dreams, and I—”

Cas faltered for only a second before he shoved his emotions away, forcing himself to be The Angel Of Thursday Castiel, leader of the first Heavenly Garrison of God, bloodthirsty seraph everyone feared.

“I wanted to thank you all for helping me conduct this CSAR mission.”

Silence. So Dean slowly raised his hand. “CSAR mission?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Combat Search And Rescue.”

Dean rolled his eyes right back. “Well la-dee-da, mister know-it-all. Excuse me for not being a walking dictionary.”

Sam smirked and shook his head. Then he unexpectedly pulled Dean into a hug. Dean was shocked at first, but then patted Sam's back, whispering,

“Well get your brother out and he'll be right as rain, got it?”

Sam let go, nodding once and looking determined and confident.

“Are we ready?” Cas asked when the room fell into silence.

The garrison all stood straight at attention, and spoke in one voice, “Yes sir!”

Cas nodded curtly. “Now, as discussed, we will enter Hell through—”

Sam interrupted. “I'm sorry, sir, but about that.”

Cas glared immediately. “This had better be good, Winchester.”

“It is.”

Everyone looked at him questioningly, especially when he reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a hex bag. He held up both hands.

“Please don't be angry, sir. I've been in contact with Crowley.”

Normally there would have been a rippling murmur of shock throughout the group. However, everyone was in military mode, so no one spoke. The closest was Dean glaring out of the corner of his eye and giving him a bewildered look like he was crazy. Also, Dove telepathically told Dean,

Well, if there is a demon in me, that would explain how I was allowed into the bunker! That f*cker broke the warding!

Cas wasn't angry. He was livid. Seeing the expression, Sam rushed on.

“I knew you wouldn't agree with me, but I coerced Crowley into helping us, no strings attached, I swear. No contracts were signed. Now, I feel like we're suddenly in a time crunch, so I can explain myself fully to you, and you can chew me out later, but right now I need you to trust me I know what I'm doing.”

Cas still looked pretty smite-y. Sam raised both eyebrows and spoke softly.

“Cas, c'mon. This is for Dean. We've all been through so much already, with Croatoan, and Purgatory…I wouldn't do anything stupid. Not now. Not after everything. Please, Cas.”

Cas took in a deep, deep breath, and then let it out. “Fine,” he snarled out. “But if this goes sideways–”

Sam smirked. “It won't.”

Sam squeezed the bag and everyone disappeared.

Chapter 37

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

The large group appeared in Crowley’s throne room. Everyone looked around, stunned. Looking back at them, equally stunned, was a group of demons going about business as usual. When several angels made their angel blades appear, Sam said frantically, “Wait!”

Sam wasn't Cas though, and his people were loyal to Cas. As such, Cas barked out, “Halt!”

All the angels froze.

Crowley was on his throne. He didn't seem surprised, but he also didn't exactly seem thrilled, either. In a low, deadly voice, he told his people,

“Clear the room.”

Not wanting to fight forty-five angels, the demons gladly heeded their King’s command and scurried out, shutting the doors behind them. When the last one was gone, Crowley got to his feet. Moving aside a red curtain that was to the right side of his throne revealed a door, which he popped open. Sam was first to walk forward, and everyone followed him. Sam paused just before entering the hallway and looked at Crowley. He gave a sharp nod.

“Thank you.”

Crowley glared. “Don't make me regret this, Moose. You had better come back alive with your stupid brother in tow.”

Sam smiled grimly. “We will.”

When Dove came to Crowley, she paused. She looked at him with confusion. “Did you…?”

“Save you?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You saw him. You think I want that maniac running around Hell?”

Dove paused but then nodded. “Fair enough.” She moved to leave, but then took a step back and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“I did it for me, not for you, poppet.”

She grinned and winked. “Right.”

Not allowing him to reply, she walked through the door.

Everyone filed into the hallway after her. Once everyone was in, Crowley shut the door and locked them in. With as many as there were it was a somewhat tight squeeze, no more than three people walking more or less shoulder to shoulder. Cas led the way with Castiel and Dove flanking him. Behind them were Sam, Raven, and Dean with Hannah next, leading the garrison.

For a while everyone was tense; the garrison didn't show it, their faces stoneface from any emotions. Dove tried not to jump at every little thing. Castiel kept a watchful eye, while Sam started taking point for the second row, sweeping hallways with his gun drawn. Raven's eyes darted around, while Dean occasionally assured her she was doing great.

After an hour of nothing happening, everyone began to be slightly less tense. Two hours in, everyone started to relax. By the third small chatter had broken out, though Cas snuffed it out relatively quickly.

It was a known fact they would take breaks for Sam's sake. So, when hour five came, they settled down for a break. Cas leaned against a wall, away from everyone, arms crossed and frowning. Everyone let him be.

“How're you holding up?” Sam asked, sitting next to Raven.

Raven was nibbling on some bread, which she then split and offered some to Sam. He held up his hands.

“I brought my own rations. You should eat.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Yeah but I don't have to eat—what was that?”

Everyone froze, all having heard the same noise. There had been a weird sort of ping, almost like water dripping somewhere. It was a metallic sound though, and no one knew exactly what it was, nor where it was coming from. When nothing became of it, everyone went back to hushed, uneasy conversation.

Sam bumped Raven's shoulder. “So how're you?”

Raven shrugged. “Fine.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Fine? We're in the middle of Hell, Rave.”

“So?”

“So…I'm kinda freaking out here.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“You're not?”

She chuckled. “Of course I am. But honestly I'm more worried about him.”

Raven jutted her chin. Sam followed the gesture; it led to Cas who was frowning at the ground, lost in thought.

~

“Please don't, please don't—NO!”

Cas slit the woman's throat easily. Truthfully it reminded him of slaughtering a goat, just as simple.

The baby she had held in her arms had not been so simple to kill.

Cas had taken the house alone. His garrison was elsewhere in the Egyptian village, fanned out, killing anyone who didn't have their doorways marked in red. It was for that reason that Cas killed the infant how he did, humanely—he put his finger to its forehead, immediately shutting down its brain, heart, and vital organs. There was no pain, no suffering—he simply flicked a switch, and the baby ceased to live. Easy, really. Cas ran a hand over the dead infant's face so it was smooth, not wrinkled from its shrieking when he had been dropped to the floor, its cheeks dry of tears.

It was the first infant he killed.

It was the first time he questioned what he was doing for God.

It had been a terrible night of firsts for Cas.

There was one, somewhat good first, too.

It was the first time Cas directly disobeyed.

He only did it once that night. But that first infant he killed, he felt a remorse so deep that startled him. As such, he gathered up the tiny thing in his arms, transporting himself a good way away from the village. He knelt down, placed the unmoving bundle at his side, and dug a grave for the child with his bare hands. When that was done, he placed the body in its grave.

“I'm sorry, little one,” he whispered, and then disappeared and went back to his killing as though nothing had happened.

~

“Hey buddy.”

Cas blinked and lifted his head. When he met Dean's gaze, the new angel stood straighter and gave a salute.

“I mean, sir.”

Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. Dean seemed to deflate a bit.

“Could we talk?”

“Of course, Dean. I am always willing to talk to you.”

Dean leaned against the wall as well, positioning himself so he faced the gathering, not looking at Cas.

“What's up?”

Cas looked at him, eyes squinting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You got all quiet since we got here.”

“Of course. We are trying to be sneaky.”

Dean rolled his eyes, swiveling his head and looking impatient. “That's not what I mean.”

“Oh. I see.” Cas looked away, staring straight ahead.

Dean waited. When Cas didn't elaborate, he said, “Soooooo gonna enlighten me what's up?”

“No, I am not,” Cas said, pushing himself off the wall. Not giving Dean breath to speak, he called immediately, “We move out now, break is over.”

As Cas walked away, Dean's shoulders slumped. Sighing, he followed his commander.

~

A few hours later it was much the same. Cas was largely silent and brooding while everyone marched along, keeping an eye on things. They would stop periodically when they came to hallways that jutted out in different directions, Cas checking the pocket-sized map of Hell he had brought with, drafted from the large one. They stopped for the night, allowing those who wanted to sleep to do so. The morning was a quick breakfast and they were off again.

The further into Hell they became, the worse of a mood Cas fell into. By mid-day he was so cranky he started snipping at anyone who said something he didn't like, regardless if he was part of the conversation or not. Things soured further when they turned a corner and Dean swore. Everyone saw the same thing he did.

“We went in a loop?” Dove said angrily, looking at the ‘x’ they had carved into some rock. “How?!”

“Shifting hallways,” Hannah said immediately. “That means someone knows we're here.”

Without even saying anything, Cas punched the wall so hard it cracked, bits of stone sprinkling to the ground. The troop fell silent. Composing himself, Cas stood, pointed down an opposite hallway, and growled, “That way.”

“Cas, it's alright,” Dean said, falling into pace with him.

“Not now, Dean,” Cas glowered.

“It's one's setback. We knew going into this—”

“SHUT IT.”

Everyone froze. Glaring, Cas stalked off. After hesitating, everyone followed.

The rest of the day, no one spoke.

Finally, on day three, they started to make headway. They knew because they began finding a series of doors instead of just never-ending hallways. They were much like Cas had warned them about—booby trapped and filled with unpleasant things.

It wasn't until they entered a room that looked like a hallway, the unseen door materializing out of thin air and snapping shut behind them, did they realize they were in trouble.

Chapter 38

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Cas blinked and immediately forgot he was in Hell.

“Forgive me father.”

“For?”

Cas had been kneeling with his head bowed. At God's word, he lifted his head. However a deep shame pulsed within his very soul, and he dropped his gaze once more.

“Nevermind.”

“No no, Castiel. You beseeched my presence, and I am here. Pray tell, what do you need, dearest Castiel?”

Cas opened and closed his mouth several times, a great fear raging inside him. He broke out into a sweat, trying to figure out how to go about the situation pragmatically, without being beheaded or worse, sent for reprogramming.

“I simply want to be assured I understand my directive,” Cas said slowly, carefully.

“Speak.”

Cas whet his lips. “I am to tempt humans and if they disobey—”

“When they disobey.”

Cas swallowed down panic, nearly flinching at the correction. “When they disobey, I am…to…punish them?”

God didn't answer.

“While you watch from the hill?”

God crossed his arms. “Speak plainly, Castiel.”

Cas ducked his head further, truly afraid. “It is nothing.”

God hooked his index finger under Castiel's chin, forcing him to gaze upon his God. God raised his eyebrows.

“Be reminded I know when you speak nothing of truths.”

Cas swallowed, now too afraid to look away. He spoke rapidly at a terrified pace. “If you made humans, why are they not pure? If you want them to obey, why tempt them? Why am I tasked with this? I am but your humble seraph—shouldn't the archangels complete this—”

“I am going to stop you right there.”

Cas physically flinched. Looking amused, God turned his back and walked a few steps away. When he abruptly spun around, he still looked bemused.

“What am I having you do?”

“Test the humans.”

God smirked. “Is that all I'm testing?”

Not waiting for a reply, God snapped.

Cas blinked against the suddenly harsh sunlight. Bewildered, he shielded his eyes from the sun. Turning, he found himself in a field on earth. Off to the side he saw a man and a woman, laughing and enjoying themselves.

A shudder ran through Cas.

Across the way, on the horizon and barely visible, sat a mountain.

Cas knew God was there, watching.

Cas knew what he had to do.

He got them to sleep with him, first the woman, then the man. When the deed was done, he lectured them how they had sinned, the woman for adultery and the man for adultery against his wife with another man. Finally he killed them both, sending both of their souls to Hell.

When Cas dragged himself to the summit, weeping, God swept Cas into his arms.

“You did so well, my child, my Castiel.”

~

Everyone in the room witnessed Cas’ shameful memories, for in this particular room, it was set up to force its occupant to relieve its worst memories. It was only designed for one, maybe two, three victims, tops. In the case of more than one victim, the room was designed to feed off the strongest guilt and shame, and force the others to bear witness. The rooms design was as such to pick apart every single insecurity and awfulness in a person's psyche, over and over again.

Human souls weren't meant to be able to understand what was happening. As such, Sam stood there, bewildered, horrified by what he was seeing, what he was feeling, for the room made him relive Cas’ agony as if it was his own.

Angels, however, were a different story.

“We have to do something!” Raven shouted.

“Castiel!” Hannah said, rushing over to where Cas was a heap in the corner of the room, holding his head, unblinking. She crouched before him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “Castiel! CASTIEL!”

But Cas was practically catatonic as he was plunged into another nightmare.

~

“The sinners shall perish and the righteous shall live in light, joy, and peace.”

Cas was mercilessly beating an angel who had disobeyed. Both were bloodied; the angel's face was swollen and bruised, and Cas didn't know how much of the blood on his knuckles was his and how much of it was the other angel's.

“This is what our father wants,” Cas said. “Why won't you listen? Why won't you obey? Why won't you repent?”

The angel grabbed Cas’ forearm, looking up at Cas. “If we were to repent, would it even be good enough? Would he forgive us?”

Cas froze, fist pulled back mid-punch.

The angel laughed mockingly. “You know the answer, Castiel.”

Castiel grabbed the angel's head and smote him, screaming angrily.

~

“We have to stop this!” Raven said, horrified, clutching her head. She stumbled back and Sam caught her.

~

Cas was murdering a version of Dean. It was Naomi's doing. In fact, she stood off to the side, watching as Cas squeezed Dean's neck so hard the bones audibly cracked. When it was done, Cas shook Dean's lifeless body and tossed it aside like a rag doll.

Naomi snapped her fingers, and another Dean appeared. “Again.”

Cas shook his arm, and an angel blade slid into his palm. This version of Dean held up both hands and began to backpedal.

“Castiel. Castiel, don't do this, man.”

Cas stalked forward, chin tucked. Dean turned and fled. Cas ran him down and stabbed him in the back. Dean screamed and fell forward. Cas was on him, stabbing him over and over and over again.

~

“I'm sorry,” Cas started babbling, over and over and over again.

Dove walked forward and shoved Hannah away. Wings unfurled, glowing, Dove shouted,

“ENOUGH!”

With a blinding flash that everyone winced from, she broke whatever sinister magic that was controlling the room, and the visions were broken. Cas scrambled to his feet, panting, pressing himself into the corner. Most of his garrison looked elsewhere, respectfully and uncomfortably. His friends looked at him with sympathy; he hated it and looked away. Then anger rolled over him, and he exploded.

“What am I even doing here?!”

Everyone looked at him, stunned by the outburst. He stared around the room, eyes imploring.

“Why have you entrusted me with anything? I have done such horrible, vile things. Who am I to fairly judge anyone? Who am I to decide anyone deserves absolution? Dean made his bed, and I—a broken, lost angel who disobeyed, who has done atrocious things in the name of God, unflinching and willingly—who am I to drag him out of Hell?”

No one breathed, not even Sam. Sam, who looked like his heart was breaking with his friend's words.

Cas looked at his hands. “I don't know what's worse, the things I have done or my disobedience.”

“Cas,” Sam said.

Cas lifted his tear-streaked face. Sam stepped forward from the crowd. Cas glared and his nostrils flared.

“Don't,” the angel said in quiet warning.

Sam paused. He didn't stop though. Instead he came to stand directly in front of Cas.

“This isn't your fault. None of it is your fault.” Sam looked over his shoulder, eyes sweeping around the room. “None of you.”

“I forced myself on people, Sam! Everything you saw was true! Those were my memories!”

Cas said the last two words with such vituperative condemnation it made Sam flinch. Cas clutched at his own white shirt and he began to hyperventilate.

“Everything you saw, there are hundreds—no, thousands—of more memories—more situations—more things that I did—”

“Castiel!”

Cas blinked, honestly shocked by Sam's usage of his full name in such a sharp tone. Sam put his hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“You listen to me. I know why you and Dean get along so well. It's because you fit together so well. I don't know what he's told you about our own father, but he…Well, he tried his best. And a lot of times his best wasn't good enough. A lot of times his best fell short, and it bordered abusive.”

Cas’ features were slowly relaxing. Raven was listening with silent curiosity.

“He made Dean into a solider—just like you. Dad's little soldier, dad’s blunt weapon. And Cas? Dean has done some horrible things, man. He's a bit of an asshole, and he treats those he loves most like complete and utter sh*t. And I'm not saying he's right, and I'm not saying anyone should forgive his transgressions, but he was largely forced into it.”

“Well yes, but—”

Sam shook his head. “There is no ‘but’ here, Cas. Dean doesn't have to act the way he does, I get that, but that doesn't change the fact that he is how he is because he was forced to do really awful sh*t by his parental figure.” Sam couldn't help but smirk. “Sound like anyone I know?”

“But it's different.”

“How?” Sam asked gently. “How is it different?”

“Dean would never coerce people into sleeping with him! He is not a child murderer! You saw the types of things I've done!” Cas said, sounding borderline outraged.

Sam nodded. “Under fear of death or reprogramming. You weren't given a choice, Cas.”

Cas looked around the room once more, shamefully. He couldn't bear it, so he settled his eyes on Sam once more. “I should have chosen death.”

Sam looked temporarily shocked. Then he looked hurt. His features settled on just sad. “Cas…do you really think God would let you just… Go?”

Cas didn't have an answer to that.

“Or do you think he would just make another Castiel? Especially knowing what we know now, that there are different universes?”

A sort of horrified realization swept over Cas’ face. Sam squeezed his shoulder. Sam gave a shrug.

“And yeah, you disobeyed—so?”

There was a slight surprised murmuring, while Cas flat out laughed at Sam.

“So? So? Disobedience is—”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The worst thing an angel could do, I know.”

Cas slammed his mouth shut and glared, brow furrowed.

“I don't think disobedience is the worst thing you could do to a God that forced you to do those horrible things. I think disobedience is sane. You didn't want to do any of those things he made you do, Cas.”

“But I did them,” he replied miserably.

“But you also choose free will.” Sam beamed at him. “If that's not the bravest thing anyone could do, standing up to literal God, I don't know what is.”

Cas looked at his feet. “No, Sam. I'm a coward and a failure.”

Sam threw him his patented RBF. “Really? You're standing here with a garrison of loyal followers, after you marched into a scary woman's office and demanded she placate you, and you took all of them to Hell. You trained us, and you devised a plan, and created a map, and you did all that unflinching.”

“I've led us to death,” Cas whispered.

“Really? Because we're still standing here. In Hell. Like, you do understand most people spend their entire lives trying to avoid this place, right? And you just ran into it head first?”

“While putting friends and family in mortal danger for my own selfish reasons.”

“No one would be standing here if we didn't want to be,” Hannah said.

Cas looked over Sam's shoulder while Sam turned his body. Hannah was walking forward.

“Cas,” Dove said then, “no offense but I'm not just doing this for you.”

Raven stepped forward. “We're doing it for Dean.”

Sam smiled at them and looked back at Cas. “Now, I can't speak on behalf of everyone here, but I know a handful of us would be here regardless.”

“Any version of Dean is worth saving,” Castiel said.

“And if we die?”

“We knew that was a possibility coming along,” Hannah said.

“Cas, we believe in you,” Dove implored. “It's time to believe in yourself.”

Cas’ face contorted and he looked near tears again. “But all those things I've done, those innocent people—those babies—”

“If you were truly a monster you wouldn't be standing here right now feeling as guilty as you do,” Raven said quietly.

“And you wouldn't have disobeyed,” Hannah said.

“Cas,” Sam said. “There's good in you. Please don't let your confidence waiver because you were a tool used by an unjust God against your will,” Sam said.

“Please, Cas, we need you,” Dove said.

Sam squeezed Cas’ shoulder a final time. He locked eyes with him, looking at him with the utmost seriousness. “Dean needs you.”

Cas looked past Sam to everyone who was looking at him expectantly. Moved, a tear escaped his eye, and he looked up at Sam.

“You don't…hate…me?”

Sam pulled him into his arms. Patting his back gently, he chuckled.

“I could never hate you, Cas, and I don't think anyone in this room could ever hate you.”

Tentatively Cas wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. After a moment he smiled, resting his cheek on the taller man's shoulder for just a moment.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Cas pulled away and looked at everyone. He nodded. “Thank you everyone. I am sorry for my weakness.”

Hannah smiled at him. “Self-awareness with the will to change and grow isn't weak, Castiel.”

“On the contrary,” Raven said, “it's admirable and brave.”

Collecting himself a moment, Cas then stepped forward. Head held high, he smirked.

“Well, let's go kick some names and take some asses.”

Sam shifted his weight to one foot. “Cas, it's kick ass and take names.”

Cas winked. “I know.”

Sam grinned, happy to have his version of Cas back.

Chapter 39

Chapter by Sarah_Strix

Chapter Text

Two days and a handful of casualties later (they would be mourned eventually, when there was room to breathe outside of survival and existing in the stifling Hell), Cas was thinking. He still did a lot of that, but the thoughts had morphed into a gelatinous hopefulness, something he could mold into the will to keep going, something to remind him why he was here in the first place.

Sometimes at the farmhouse, Dean would do things when he thought no one was looking. Pausing at the front door where everyone's keys hung from hooks, gently running his fingers along them, wistful smile on his lips. Cas was not like Raven, he couldn't just feel other people's emotions, not unless they were unintentionally praying, not unless they were feeling emotion so strong they could burst. Even so, Cas knew what it meant; Dean hoped it stayed. He wanted the keys to stay, a reminder he had a home.

There was a gratefulness to him in the silence; dumping crusts into the trash like it was some holy ritual, happy he had a trash can in the same place in the same kitchen. Pressing his nose to the pillow in their bed, getting drunk on the smells of him and Cas that permeated the linen. Running his fingertips absentmindedly along the pale yellow walls of the upstairs. Examining the weathered porch, looking at the splinters, scrutinizing its construction, memorizing where each nail was. Then of course there was the old tree, where he would admire its strong beauty as he sipped his morning coffee in silence.

All these things, these silent reverent rituals, showed how grateful he was for the things most people took for granted. But when you were Dean Winchester, you didn't have the luxury of taking anything for granted.

Out of anyone, Cas believed Dean deserved that most of all.

So that was why, when a door slammed shut behind them unexpectedly, severing them from the rest of the garrison, Cas found himself surprisingly unperturbed. Everyone had jumped at the noise, even Cas himself. They spun around.

“What the f*ck?” Dean snapped.

Everyone gawked at what was in front of them. Dean slipped his way through everyone, looking at the stone wall in disbelief. Not believing it to be real, he ran his hands all along it.

“What the f*ck?” he repeated when he found it to be an actual wall. He pushed on it. When he didn't budge, he turned to everyone. “There was a door here, right? I'm not crazy?”

“There was a door,” Castiel confirmed.

Raven wrapped her arms around her midsection uneasily. “Where did everyone else go?”

Dove immediately wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulder. When she was done, Sam put his hand on her shoulder then and smiled down at her. “I'm sure they're fine, Rave.”

Dove co*cked an eyebrow at them but remained silent. Catching the look, Sam cleared his throat and looked away.

“I'm not worried,” Cas said. “They can take care of themselves. They're with Hannah and she has my utter faith.”

Dove nodded. “Hopefully we'll catch up with them, or be reunited.”

“Doubtful,” Castiel said.

Dean gave him a withering look. Castiel co*cked his head to the side questioningly.

“Ya didn't need to say that,” Dean said.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Why? It's true. We have known for days now that someone has been alerted to our presence, so they separated us to lessen our chances.”

Off to the side, Raven squeaked. Castiel looked at his daughter, pained. He switched gears abruptly, forcing a smile.

“I'm sure everything will be fine, love.”

Dean snorted and shook his head, walking away. “Nice save, Cas.”

Cas snickered and patted Castiel on the shoulder, following Dean. When Castiel's shoulders slumped, Raven hugged her father and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“It's okay, dad. I know you were only being honest.”

“Yes but I suppose I could have been more comforting.”

Raven laughed, walking alongside her dad. “You? Comforting?”

“Hey, now.”

More twinkling laughter. “I'm kidding. Love you, dad.”

“I love you as well, Raven.”

Cas couldn't help but allow himself a soft smile. Conversations like this had come to seem normal. He really, really hoped they all made it out alive so more easy conversations could happen forever.

~

They finally found Dean a week later. They were all tired and dirty, but knew they had been getting close seeing as they had reached several torture chambers. It broke everyone's heart, having to keep going and not save people from the racks.

“We're close,” Dove had whispered, a shudder ramming through her. “I know this place. I recognize these hallways. This is where Dean attacked me.”

Everyone got their weapons out, tense.

When they got to where they needed, it didn't play out how they had expected at all. A demon in a suit was actually waiting for them. Grinning, the demon gave a mocking bow and pointed at the door at the end of the hallway.

“Welcome. They're expecting you.”

Without another word, the demon vanished.

It was a room unlike the other chambers. Slick walls made from rounded stones held torches, streams of moisture dripping down in silent rivulets in some places. Against the back wall of the large room was a wooden torture rack. There was the lifeless body of a woman with blonde hair lying there, trapped, evidence of being tortured presenting all over her naked body.

No one knew what to expect when they inched into the chamber. That said, what awaited them also wasn't what anyone expected to walk in on.

Standing in front of the slumped woman was Alistair. He was smiling serenely, hands neatly folded in front of him. Standing next to him, to everyone's shock, was Dean. He was wearing a nice-looking suit. He too held his hands in front of him—the difference was in his right hand he held a large blade that was still dripping with fresh blood.

No one spoke. No one moved. For several awkward moments everyone just gawked at the dead woman, with Dean and Alistair simply smiling at them. Then Raven gasped, making everyone turn to look at her. She was pointing across the room to the corner.

“What is that?!” she asked, horrified.

The person was barely visible, features being lost in the shadows. There was just enough light for everyone to recognize the person for who it was though—Dean.

He was curled up, naked, his back to them. He was sniveling, crying, both hands wrapped around his head. He didn't look at them, didn't make any gesture to show he had realized they were in the same room.

As though the fact there were two Dean's wasn't startling enough, then there was what the cowering Dean looked like. He barely looked human. His skin was chasmed, looking more like cracked rock with molten lava running under it. His skin was dark red, once again bringing to mind an eruption volcano, and what showed through the cracks was shimmering and orange. He glowed faintly, and his hair was lighter—still brown, but had a other-worldly golden sheen to it that made his hair almost sparkle.

Castiel was the first to speak. He nodded at Dean and Alistair. “You knew we were coming.”

“Of course we knew you were coming,” Alistair scoffed, ever smiling. “A group of forty five angels doesn't just waltz through Hell unnoticed. Especially not with all the racket you caused.”

“Dean.”

Cas had said that. Most had still been staring at the thing that looked like Dean curled up until Cas spoke. He had said the name not out of love, or pain, but anger. His emotion drew everyone's attention, and when they looked upon Cas his eyes were glowing. Dean from Dove's reality glanced down—Cas’ fists were clenched in rage.

“Dean,” the Dean wearing the suit mocked openly in such a way it reminded Sam of Lucifer. Sam shuddered, but his nostrils flared in anger, also clenching his hands into fists. “Dean. Dean.”

The suit-wearing Dean laughed cruelly then and doubled over, slapping his knee. He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. When he looked back at them and blinked they were no longer green and white but pools of jet-black.

“You should see the look on your face,” demon Dean still taunted. He stopped laughing then and smiled sweetly. For the full effect, he blinked and his eyes were Dean’s once more. “How are you, sweetheart? I've missed you.”

Cas glared.

“That's a fractured part of Dean's soul,” Castiel muttered out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing as inconspicuous as he could towards the cowering thing in the corner. “The only remaining part that's not fully corrupted. We must protect it at all costs.”

“I figured you had come for that,” demon Dean said, taking a step forward, which made Raven shuffle back a step. Lazily he glanced at Raven but didn't do anything else to her. Instead, he waved his hands—red symbols crackled and snapped to life, carved into the stone, covering nearly every inch of it. Demon Dean looked pleased. “But my soul is staying right in this room.”

“Doubtful,” Cas snarled. He unfurled his wings and sprang into action.

The room erupted into chaos. At the last moment, Alistair stepped in front of demon Dean and began viscously fighting Cas off. Everyone piled in. Wordlessly they worked as one unit, making sure to clump together in a way that put themselves between Dean's soul and the two demons they fought against.

Sam was surprised how difficult this was. They had swept through Hell, largely unbothered, largely triumphant. Six to two should have been easy. Instead it quickly became a frantic bid to stay alive.

Demon Dean had noticed how uneasy Raven had been at first, stepping away when he had done nothing more than take a step forward. As such, he focused his attention on her; as soon as he got the opportunity, he attacked her. The Knight of Hell didn't fight her, no. Wrapping both arms around her from behind, he transported himself and Raven to the far corner of the room, away from everyone.

“Yo! Dove!” he called.

As soon as Dove looked over, demon Dean snapped Raven's neck. Raven immediately fell to a lifeless heap at the Knight of Hell's feet.

“RAVEN!”

The entire room froze with Dove's shriek. Castiel was holding Alistair by the shirt, his other fist pulled back, ready to hit him. As soon as he saw his daughter die, he let go of Alistair and stumbled a few feet. Alistair was so intrigued he didn't even bother fighting back, reading the room. In his mind the victory was already his. Both he and his protege weren't expecting the backbone of the group's morale to have been Raven. Yet no one seemed to know what to do anymore, staring at the dead angel.

Dove burst out laughing. Everyone looked at her. She clutched her head, tears streaming down her face with the hysterical laughter that was out of control. As she laughed and laughed, her eyes started to glow pink.

“Dove?” her Dean asked, his voice shaking.

Dove suddenly screamed. It was inhuman, loud—so loud everyone had to cover their ears; Sam's eardrums exploded. Dove doubled over then, still laughing and crying, but also screaming in…agony?

“Dove!” Castiel said frantically, starting to walk quickly to her.

There was a blinding flash of pink, a pulse that not only threw everyone off their feet but made Dove's hair turn a solid pink. She collapsed to her knees, now-pink hair floating in mid air as she clutched at her stomach.

“NO!” she shrieked, beginning to claw at her stomach. Her eyes were orbs of pink, mouth glowing with her grace as well. “NO! I WON'T LET YOU! NO!”

Everyone was scrambling to their feet but it was too late. Dove's wings appeared and snapped outward, and she shrieked in undiluted agony. There was the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart; she heaved, once, twice—no one knew what was happening. They thought she was going to be sick.

Instead her back burst open from between her wings. This…thing, crawled out, like a cicada emerging from its shell. It looked like a over-grown maggot, lumpy and pulsating. Instead of being white, however, it was this strange deep dark pink. It grew, and grew—legs emerged; six, insectoid, and coming to points. It yanked free its two front limbs, making its appendages altogether eight—these front limbs ended in feet, sort of like talons, just as sharp and deadly looking.

Dove had stopped screaming, having fallen forward directly on her face. The thing gave a final shudder, shaking itself off, and exited Dove's limp body completely. It opened its eyes—two rows of three on either side of its head, slits that were pink and glowing. The thing also had a mouth which it opened, and as it shrieked a sound no one had ever heard before it revealed rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Even Alistair had pressed himself up against a wall, looking terrified. Everyone else was slowly backing away, gawking up at it.

“What the f*ck is that?!” Sam shouted from fear and his inability to hear properly.

The only one who seemed utterly unperturbed was demon Dean. In fact, he walked closer to the thing. It looked down at him. After viewing him a second, it opened its mouth again and gave another terrifying shriek.

“Huh,” demon Dean said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. “A physical manifestation of negative energy. Awesome.”

The thing took a final look at the demon, brought back one of its taloned front limbs, and smacked demon Dean. Demon Dean shrieked and hit the wall with such force he went through it. And the wall behind it. And the wall behind that. And, though they couldn't see it, it sounded like he probably punched through at least three walls after that, too.

“Oh f*ck,” Dean from the other reality said, eyes bulging.

The monster rounded on him and lunged forward.

Cas leapt forward, knocking that version of Dean out of the way (barely). Even so they were clipped and went tumbling away. The monster shrieked again, turning on Alistair. Alistair screamed; it bit him, sheering him off at the torso, devouring his top half. Giving another noise that embodied rage and agony, the creature thrust itself upwards, breaking through the ceiling easily. It jumped and scurried out of the hole it had created.

There was a brief stillness wherein everyone froze, worried about the structural integrity of the room. Miraculously, it seemed like it would hold. Alistair’s lower half had collapsed and bled freely, just a waist, pair of legs, and feet. Raven was still lying limp, green eyes open, head twisted the wrong way. Dove wasn't moving, her wings held on by mere flaps of skin, several ribs visible.

The gravity of everything came crashing down onto Castiel. He slumped to his knees, staring at his dead family.

“No.”

Elsewhere, they heard the monster shriek. It sounded far away already.

“We have to stop it,” Sam shouted, sounding panicked. “That thing is going to punch a hole through the ground and we can't have that.”

“This wasn't worth it,” Castiel mumbled, dropping his head.

The room fell silent. Then they heard laughter. It started as dim, barely heard. Then it grew louder and louder.

It was demon Dean.

Castiel raised his head. His eyes were glowing brightly. Looking beyond murderous, looking downright insane, he got to his feet. Wordlessly he started to stalk toward the hole in the wall, climbing through it. His Dean followed, eyes glowing as well. Cas started to walk after them, but Sam grabbed his arm. Cas spun around and Sam flinched, thinking his friend was about to deck him. When that didn't happen, Sam shook his head.

“They can handle it,” Sam shouted.

Annoyed, Cas pressed his finger to Sam's forehead, healing his eardrums.

“Oh. Thanks,” Sam said at a normal volume.

Cas nodded and turned away. Sam grabbed him again. This time Cas wasn't so nice; he grabbed Sam and shook him, eyes glowing.

“I want to make sure there's something left for me to bring back to Dean's body! Like it or not that demon is still your brother—that's his soul I have to fix! If they damage or destroy that part of his soul, that's it, it's done, he's gone.”

“O-oh. Right.”

Sam held up both hands. Cas let him go and blinked, eyes back to their normal human visage. Sam hesitated as Cas went after the pair through the hole. Taking a deep breath, Sam quickly followed.

“Cas, wait up, I'm coming too.”

When they got to demon Dean, he was standing, brushing himself off. His eyes were back to being pure black. The other Dean and Castiel were walking through the last hole, with Cas and Sam scrambling behind them. Demon Dean grinned, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Oh hey guys. Nice of you to stop by—”

Castiel screamed an unintelligible noise and threw a punch. Demon Dean didn't even flinch; he simply caught Castiel's hand before it made contact. Grinning, he squeezed—Castiel winced as his hand broke, bones cracking. He refused to give the demon the satisfaction of his scream though.

Dean had his angel blade out and took a wide-arched slash. Still breaking Castiel's hand, demon Dean grabbed Dean's forearm and twisted it. Dean yelped, arm breaking, and he dropped the blade.

The demon looked at Dean, smiled, and gave a wink.

“Oh, you.”

The demon didn't even move much; Dean simply was thrown across the current dungeon they were in with a startled yelp. Castiel tried to punch him with his other hand but the demon grabbed that hand, too, and they grappled. After a point the demon started laughing.

“Well, thanks for dancing, but you're not the Cas that earns my heart-eyes.”

Demon Dean turned and whipped Cas into the other Dean who was charging at them. When he turned he was genuinely surprised to find Cas punching him. He stumbled. Cas didn't let up the assault, punching him again, and again, and again. With his face bloodied and bruised, the demon laughed. Finally having enough, demon Dean grabbed Cas’ fist just like he had Castiel's. Cas went to punch him with his other hand as well and he grabbed that hand, too. Demon Dean laughed delightedly and shrugged.

“Child's play!”

Cas headbutted Dean. The demon headbutted him back and laughed even as blood dripped down his chin. The demon slurped some of its blood into its mouth and then spit it on Cas’ face.

“C'mon, Cas. I could do this all day, babe!”

Neither had noticed Sam sneaking until it was too late. His arm was in Cas’ trench coat. He snatched Cas’ extra angel blade, yanked it out, and stabbed demon Dean in the shoulder.

The demon howled. He stumbled back, wincing, obviously in considerable pain. Grabbing the blade handle he braced himself and then pulled it out, screaming. Angrily demon Dean stalked toward Sam, who was backpedaling as quickly as he could without tripping. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his own angel blade, eyes wide.

“You f*cking son of a bitch!” the demon snarled, advancing on Sam. “That was not nice! You're supposed to play nice, Sammy! I raised you better than that!”

Sam smirked. “If I just came at you with my own blade, you would've expected it.”

The demon tried to hit Sam, who ducked. Sam, a wild glint to his eyes, continued to smirk. He slashed—Dean doged.

“Plus it was a good distraction—Cas is your weakness, after all. All your focus is on him, whether you like it or not.”

“Psh, whatever.”

The demon screamed then and froze. Eyes bulging, a thin line of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His black eyes looked bewildered, confused, hurt. Hurt he had been played, hurt he had lost.

He lost because Cas and Sam had planned this, spur of the moment, talking to each other without talking directly to one another, in sync with one another thanks to their training. Cas stood directly behind Dean, pressed flush against Dean's backside. His left arm was wrapped securely around Dean's waist while his right had his angel blade buried hilt-deep in between Dean's spinal cord, into his heart, having been thrust upward at a diagonal angle.

“Sam's your weakness too,” Cas whispered directly into the demon's ear. He jerked the blade, causing a cut-off squeak from Dean. Cas snarled, still whispering, lips brushing up against Dean's earlobe. “I'd like my boyfriend back now.”

Cas yanked the blade out and took a step back, releasing the demon. The black eyes turned green right before they rolled away into the back of Dean's head, and the man toppled forward, landing face-first.

It wasn't over yet.

“Now what?” Sam asked frantically.

Cas turned to Dean and Castiel, waving them on. “Go kill whatever came out of Dove.”

“But it's not her though, right?” Dean asked, sounding panicked.

Cas didn't answer.

“But that—that—that thing—it's not—it can't be—”

Cas’ face crumpled, watching as Dean's heart was slowly breaking. Cas took a deep breath.

“I don't think so. I believe The Knight of Hell’s assessment of the situation was correct—I think that unleashed thing is what Dove has been keeping inside of her, the monster.”

“But Dove—” Castiel sobbed, and then clamped his hand over his mouth.

Cas pulled Castiel into a hug. It was brief though, urgency lacing his voice.

“I know. We should—we should be able to save Raven at the least. We can figure out how to help Dove—”

Castiel closed his eyes tightly.

“Hey,” Cas said harshly, and Castiel opened his eyes. Cas gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We'll figure all this out, but I really, really need you both to make sure that thing doesn't get the chance to leave Hell.”

“How do we stop it?” Dean asked, voice trembling.

“I don't know,” Cas said, trying to not lose his patience. “But you have to stop it, please! I have to help my Dean, this is a time sensitive thing, you know that.”

When neither Dean nor Castiel moved, a few tears dripped down his face.

“Please, I implore you.”

“Dean,” Castiel said seriously. “Let's go.”

Dean looked incredibly anxious. “But Dove—”

“Dean! We all knew the risks going into this! And Cas is right—we can't let that thing escape Hell.”

Cas’ face crumpled, looking at his double. Castiel nodded with conviction.

“I know Cas is good on his word and will do everything in his power to save my daughter and Dove. Let's go.”

With a final anxious looked, Dean disappeared, followed by Castiel. Cas sprung into action. He scooped the dead Dean into his arms and spoke to Sam.

“Meet me in the room where the other part of his soul is. Hurry!”

Cas disappeared, immediately popping into the original decimated room. Dean's soul was exactly how it had been left, tucked away in the corner, hiding. Cas gently put Dean down on the ground a few feet away from the cowering soul. For a moment he stood, staring at the soul.

It looked so…Sad. Wrong. Corrupt. It was supposed to be vibrant and pure gold like it had been, not this fissured cell. It broke Cas’ heart. Cas barely even registered Sam barreling through the holes in the wall, too wrapped up in this moment.

This moment…this moment he had been waiting for. This moment that hadn't gone anything like he had thought it would. He thought he had mapped out in his head every possible outcome to this day, most of which truthfully included all of their deaths. None of his scenarios involved a vile, terrifying, maggot-monster springing out of Dove's back.

Cas had to fix this. It was all his fault. He had to help Raven and Dove like they had helped him. Dean and Castiel from the other reality would never forgive him if they weren't able to revive the pair.

He would never forgive himself.

Tentatively Cas got down on his hands and knees. As though he was trying to coax a scared kitten out from under a tight space, he reached out his hand slowly.

“Dean?”

“Go away!” his soul cried out.

“Dean,” Cas said gently, hand still extended. “It's me. It's Cas. It's your Castiel.”

“No!”

“I'm here,” Sam announced.

Cas held out his hand to Sam, signaling silence. He then lowered his hand. His gaze had never left Dean's soul.

“Dean,” Cas said gently again. “It's me, I promise.”

Dean's soul curled into a tighter bundle. “Shut up Alistair. You can't trick me anymore.”

“What's wrong with him?” Sam whispered.

“Forty years of psychological torture,” Cas muttered sadly.

Far away, they heard the monster screech.

Cas inched forward on his haunches. “This isn't a trick.”

“I said f*ck off already!”

Cas paused. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?”

The soul gave a pained, unhitched laugh. “You can’t trick me. f*ck you. Get the f*ck away from me. You’re not here.”

“But I am.”

“Stop talking to me.”

“I won’t.”

“SHUT UP ALREADY, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THE EMPTY!”

Before Cas could protest, the soul continued screaming.