Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters, this story was written for the sole purpose of entertainment and calming my shot nerves.

Warnings: Implied slash, angst.


Castiel had failed. He had failed his Father, his brethren, the Winchesters, but most of all he had failed himself. Conceded to his personal desires and turned his back to everything he had once believed in. Became a blasphemer. Made a deal with not just a demon, but the King Of Crossroads. Lied to the only friends he had ever made, then lied right in the face of his closest friend. It was not as though there were no signs, either. God probably had listened to and answered his prayers but he was too blind to recognize them. By the time he had realized his mistakes it was far too late.

How had it come to this? What could have possibly gone wrong for him to create such a mess? The obvious answers were that he had been arrogant. Pride had been the catalyse for Castiel's initial actions. Then came ignorance; naivety that if he took Crowley's shortcut that everything would be all right. Finally, the angel had been angry. Furious that God had gone into hiding, that He had even sent His personal messenger to tell him that He would not intervene. Angry that once Dean returned to the Hunter's Life that he became more of a nuisance then an ally. The steadily growing wrath was only fuelled by Raphael and his followers. Brothers and sisters that had once fought along side him, provided support when their Father faded into the background and company when His absence burrowed a lonely hole into their Grace.

Then there were the more subtle triggers. Where once Dean had become a friend and confidant, the loss of his brother ebbed away at the remaining strands of hope holding him together until all that was left was an unsatisfied and jaded man. Guilt drove Castiel to bring back Sam, the need for his Father's guidance led him to give in to Crowley's wily promises until finally something broke. There was no more order, there was no more support and there was no more companionship. Believing that there was nothing more to do then to regain all that had been lost, the angel could no longer heed the warnings of the well founded suspicions he held for demons. If sharing power with the enemy was the only way to acquire the momentum needed for change then so be it.

Was that really all there was to it? The more he thought upon it, the more he began to question himself. Surely he should have understood by now that if God so decided not to return, then He wouldn't. And if he had learned anything from his short interaction with the Winchesters then it was the fact that just because you come of the same blood, it does not guarantee that your kin agrees with your views. He should have been strong enough to take those lessons and not make the mistakes that he had made.

There had to have been something more tugging him towards the wrong path. As the angel further dissected his inner most motivations, he found that Dean was behind many of them. It was the eldest of the remaining Winchesters that opened the door to free will and later gave him his first sense of powerlessness. One of the first important responsibilities the angel had gotten in centuries, and he had given him trouble every step of the way. When it turned out that his duty concerning the Winchester was given to him under false pretences, he was faced with a dilemma that he had never faced before. If it wasn't really the word of the Lord, then why listen? And herein came the first of the decisions that he was to make of on his own. Free will was both an addictive and frustrating aspect of life. Nothing felt more right or more wrong. An angel was not meant to have free will and any action not commanded by the Almighty was not to be followed.

Yet follow he had. Followed the brothers right into the flames and came out more or less unscathed. Followed Dean to the finer things in life, as dictated by humans. But as quickly as he was rewarded with this new found freedom, Castiel was in turn bound by new duties. First to spread the word of this freedom, this blind lack of fear for the unknown. Then to continuously feed the newly formed friendship with Dean, that now extended itself to Sam, Bobby and whomever Dean considered was in need of Castiel's help. The duty to defend his new vision against that of Raphael's.

Why had not one angel seen it the way he had? Sure he was met with followers as well, but only when he changed his invitation into an order. His closest sister since Anna, Rachel was second in command and yet she too, could not understand. Free will was only something she could agree to so long as someone guided her along. Although in a way she had learned it. If only in the least favourable way possible. In going against Castiel's ultimate plan, she at last understood what he had been trying to teach the angels all along. It got her killed however. Without the so sought out approval of their Father, or Dean's stern reasoning, Castiel was left to cling to the only vision that made sense. Even if it was one concocted by a demon.

Castiel had no allusions about being special, at least, not at first. So there had to have been something more motivating this need for something more then the hard life of a soldier. But what was it? What had inched him out of the mindset of a drone and shoved him into the vast ocean of uncertainty? He searched further deep down into his subconscious. There has to have been an ideal, a desire or even a simple thought that crossed his mind that his brethren had not experienced. Gabriel had plenty of free will but he used it to run. As had Anna and Balthazar. Raphael used his to gain a new army not unlike Lucifer. Micheal only wanted to feed a vendetta against Lucifer and perhaps God. All Castiel wanted was peace. But that desire for peace led him astray. Or rather, led him to a fork in the road of Free Will. One led to true harmony and another... to where ever he found himself now. Ideally, nothing should have gone wrong.

It had, though, and Castiel was beginning to wonder if he was focusing too much on the big picture and not the small components that made it up. So he thought back on the little things that had bothered him; the loss of access to Dean, the lack of gratitude, the absence of approval from his kin, Dean's sudden change when Sam was sent to hell, the unwanted responsibility of directing an army when all he wanted was freedom, the seemingly one-sided relationship he had with Dean.

And there it was. The root from which had sprout all his misgivings. Lucifer had gone, then God, then Anna and Gabriel and Balthazar and finally Dean. Whom which he had allowed to get the closest. No matter the millennia of history between himself and the occupants of Heaven, Dean had been the door to a new world of hope and just when he got comfortable with the idea of having an equal, someone to rely on and confide in, Dean all but distanced himself. It was like Castiel could never be his equal simply because he was not human. And even then, perhaps not. Dean utilized his knowledge, his powers and his newfound freedom and turned him right back into a soldier. Dean needed protection for his recklessness, favours for every second spend showing him a good time, patience when he lacked it himself and an endless supply of energy for every impossible demand he could think of.

Castiel agreed to it all, happily at first. Dean was a friend, a human he could always trust. But then it got harder to protect him, the seconds of carefreeness ran out and the patience evaporated along with his energy. From this sprouted an irritability that he couldn't quite place. He could not fathom the notion that Dean owed him back, nor did the pressure to please the hunter deter him from backing out. Once again Castiel found himself asking why. Why on Earth would he subject himself to such treatment. Rachel had been right about one thing, Dean had never really treated him like a friend. There was also this nagging sense that Castiel was only just starting to grasp. A sort of want for acknowledgement; for retribution. He had been investing so much... what? Loyalty? Selflessness? Love?

It had begun to feel a lot like the relationship he held with God, only without all the centuries of bliss. Castiel was giving just as much of himself to Dean has he had and still would have to God. For what? One or two nights of fun? Alcohol, a confusing sense of freedom? He had been left with nothing but a sense of failure. Failure to recreate God's great kingdom, failure to earn Dean's love. This lack of accomplishment had driven to to seek out power. After all, with power you could have anything. Force the will of others so that they had no choice but to love you in return.

With that trail of thought, Castiel was at last closer to an answer as to why he had acted the way he had. Felt the way he did now and would probably still feel for the rest of his existence. He had gone from the need to fulfil the void left by his Father to the need to satisfy the every whim of a human he cared for. All for the slim and nonexistent chance that perhaps that human would in turn care for him as well. But he hadn't, and he didn't. That was made clear when he asked Death to strike him down, and again when he rebuffed his apology. Even now as Castiel found himself lost in limbo, he still wondered if there was a way he could help Dean. Even as a vast, empty darkness proved to him that it was futile, Castiel would still do everything he could to help him. Every path that led to Dean was a dead end. But even if they were doomed to let him down each and every single time, Castiel would still take them, one by one until there was nothing left to do but journey across them again.


This is just a short, one-shot I pumped out thanks to a prompt list. I didn't really edit it beyond obvious mistakes and it probably has a bad flow to it but it will stay as is. Hope you enjoyed.