A/N: Thank you Kitsune911 who wasn't logged in and guest Loreley for your reviews on the last chapter of "Playing With Fire"! I do put a lot of love into these stories, and I'm really glad they inspire the same. :) Thank you Miyth for talking out ideas for this verse continuation, and 29Pieces for beta reading! ^_^

Disclaimer: The boys and Cas aren't mine, nor are some of the season 11 canon elements I'll be incorporating into this fic.

Chapter 1

Dean flipped closed the back cover of the book he'd just finished with a heavy thud. Another resource exhausted. Granted, they'd only been back at the bunker two weeks since unleashing the "Darkness," and the Men of Letters' archives were quite extensive. But in all that time scouring the lore, they hadn't even come across a single friggin' reference.

On the bright side, it didn't appear as though the world was in any imminent danger… Dean had been checking the news, and there were no doomsday sounding reports, no large scale disasters like there'd been when Lucifer had been freed to start the Apocalypse, and nothing about a massive black cloud like what had spewed from the Book of the Damned when they'd destroyed it. Maybe this ancient evil that was purportedly locked inside was actually no big deal.

Right, and his name wasn't Winchester.

With a sigh, Dean reached for the next volume in the stack and opened the first page. Sam, sitting across from him, glanced up to give him a commiserative look. They'd both been burning the midnight oil on this, and the lack of progress was frustrating.

Scuffing footsteps from the hallway had Dean lifting his head as Cas came into the library, dressed in his normal get-up instead of the t-shirt and sweats they had given him. Dean cracked a wide grin. "Morning, sunshine. How you feeling?"

The angel had been recuperating after nearly getting his grace drained, first by the psychopathic Styne family and then by the Book of the Damned itself. He'd spent most of the past two weeks in his room resting, and Dean couldn't deny he'd been worried. Cas hadn't exactly had an easy time concerning his grace over the past year, but Ryn had assured Dean and Sam that he'd be fine, and they just had to take her word for it. She seemed to be able to know with whatever extra senses the Alpha phoenix had. And Cas did look much better now, color in his cheeks and everything. And that was a win Dean was going to take, whatever else may come.

"Better," Cas replied. "My grace has fully recovered." He roved his gaze over the stacks of books spread out on the study table. "Have you found anything on the Darkness?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothin' yet. Hell, not even a mention." He gestured at the rows and rows of bookshelves. "We're sitting on the supernatural mother load and I don't think the Men of Letters ever even heard of this thing. Did find stuff on the Styne family, though. Pretty much what Ryn told us, except it doesn't look like the Men of Letters knew they were Frankensteins."

Seriously, Dean was beginning to lose faith in the whole legacy gambit if it couldn't actually help them.

"There's still a lot to go through," Sam put in diplomatically, like he could read Dean's mind. "And Charlie might find something."

Yeah, Charlie had eventually left to see if she could track down some sources the Men of Letters didn't have. Since the world didn't appear to be falling apart at the seams, Dean was okay letting her set off alone, as long as she checked in regularly.

Cas's expression pinched. "I should have been doing something to help sooner. This thing was released on my account—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Dean interrupted. "You were dying. Me, Sam, and Ryn—and Charlie—we made a choice. Maybe it was a bad one, but it wasn't wrong."

"Besides, Cas," Sam jumped in, "the Book was absorbing your grace. If it had succeeded, if we hadn't stopped it, don't you think the result would have been just as disastrous?"

Cas's mouth turned down further. "I suppose…" he hedged.

Dean leaned his arms across the table and gave Cas a level look. "I stand by what we did. And I don't know what's coming with the Darkness, but we'll deal with it like we always do."

Cas hesitated before finally giving a slow nod of acceptance. He swept his gaze around the room. "Where's Ryn?"

"She went for a walk," Sam supplied.

Cas shifted his weight as though uncertain, and Dean exchanged a glance with his brother. Ryn had been splitting her time between looking after Cas and helping them with research. When she'd emerged from the dormitory wing earlier and said she needed some fresh air, they hadn't thought anything of it, but maybe there was something going on between her and Cas? Not that Dean wanted to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

"You could go look for her," Sam suggested.

Cas fidgeted some more. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Yeah, but you could probably use some fresh air yourself," Sam prompted gently. "You've been cooped up for two weeks."

Not to mention, if he and Ryn did have something going on, Dean would rather they have a lovers' spat outside… Because he was fairly certain that Ryn could light furniture on fire if she got pissed enough. Not that she'd seemed angry this morning. More like she was maybe beating a hasty retreat. Dean furrowed his brow in curiosity.

No, dammit, he did not want to know. He forced his attention back to the latest lore book. A few moments later, Cas headed out through the map room and up the stairs, his footsteps clomping heavily at a sedate pace. Then the bunker door grated open and closed.

"Wonder what that's about," Sam mused.

"Don't wanna know," Dean reiterated out loud.

"Dude, come on. Cas is new to this whole relationship thing. He might need, you know, advice."

"Hey, if he wanted tips for picking up women in bars, I'm his encyclopedia. But maintaining a long-term relationship?" Dean snorted. "Not exactly a strong suit for either one of us."

Sam's brow furrowed with that kicked puppy expression. "Yeah, okay. But at least we have some experience trying to make a committed relationship work."

Dean gave his brother a dry look. "You two want to get together, braid your hair and talk about feelings, go for it."

Sam shot him a bitch-face, which Dean pointedly ignored by reaching for his laptop and lifting the screen as a figurative barrier between them to put the brakes on this conversation. He started clicking through recent news stories, just checking to see if anything on the Darkness had popped up.

Didn't look like it.

He did find a post about a small town in Oklahoma experiencing strange power outages. All the streetlights on a single block would go out, but also the lights in houses. It wasn't a power failure, authorities were saying, as there were no glitches at the plant. Just a bunch of bulbs all randomly burning out at the same time. That definitely sounded weird. But the clincher for Dean was a utility worker being found dead under mysterious circumstances.

"Hey," he spoke up. "I think I found us a case."

Sam blinked at him. "What?"

"I'm thinking ghost," he said, rotating the laptop so Sam could read the screen. "Not sure how it's jumping around a large area. Maybe it's attached to an object that's on the move."

Sam's brows shot upward dubiously. "A ghost? Dean, we've kind of got a lot going on here."

"We've got squat," he countered. "Look, there's no sign of the Darkness, Cas is good. We can't just wait around for a lead to drop in our laps. So in the meantime let's get back to what we do—hunting."

Sam's mouth pinched skeptically, but he nevertheless leaned forward to scan the news article. "Okay, I guess it sounds like a ghost," he said a minute later.

Dean stood up, eager to get out and do something productive. "And it's only six hours away."

Sam shot a finger up and glared at him sternly. "If you say 'milk run,' I will delete all your Japanese porn."

Dean gaped at his brother in horror. "Don't you even joke about that."

Sam closed the laptop and got to his feet as well. "I'm not joking. You jinx this case, and all of it, gone."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he snatched his laptop back and turned to go pack a bag. He supposed he deserved that, what with their last 'milk run' ending up horribly wrong when the Stynes ambushed him. Still, the level of Sam's threat was totally uncalled for. Dean would have to think about changing his password. If he could think of something his little brother wouldn't be able to figure out in five minutes flat.

Crap.

Castiel took a deep breath of fresh air when he stepped outside, inhaling the woody aromas of cedar, sage, and plumeria that permeated the grove outside the bunker. As an angel, he didn't need to breathe, but there was something invigorating about soaking in the crispness of nature, especially after spending two weeks confined underground. He was a creature of flight, and though he hadn't had his wings for almost two years now, he still craved the wide open sky.

He suspected it was the same for Ryn, who had been devotedly by his side for a great deal of his convalescence. Now that he was well, though, he couldn't help but feel as though she were avoiding him.

Castiel slowly swept his gaze around, scanning the surrounding woodland. He didn't hear footsteps crinkling leaves or see a mantle of vibrant auburn hair moving among the more muted browns and greens. Turning his senses inward, he focused on the subtle ping he'd been feeling since a couple of days ago, when his strength had begun to return more fully. Because with it, Castiel had found himself with an equally growing, albeit soft, distinct awareness of Ryn.

At first he'd thought it was because she'd been sticking close, but now as that gossamer thread tugged his attention upward, his suspicion that there was something more was confirmed. Following his instinct, Castiel moved around the edge of the bunker's mound until he found a place with a less severe incline, and climbed his way to the top.

Sure enough, that's where he found Ryn, sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up and gazing out at the vista of Lebanon's countryside. Past the small grove around the bunker was sprawling flatland, bright green from recent rains and dotted with trees here and there. To the west was farmland, and east was the town. Hazy clouds smeared the pale blue sky with streaks of white.

Ryn didn't turn around to acknowledge Castiel's presence, and he simply came forward to take a seat beside her, drawing his legs up as well so their knees were touching. He indulged the companionable silence for a few minutes, letting himself just enjoy being up here with her and alive.

But if she wasn't going to speak first, then he would have to.

"We need to talk."

Ryn's lips quirked up at the corner ruefully. "Oh?"

Castiel opened his mouth, only to hesitate, unsure what to put into words despite his intentions when he'd first come out here.

Ryn's expression softened. "How are you feeling?"

Yes, that was the opening he wanted, and she'd given it to him even though it seemed she was reticent about it.

"Good," he answered. "Actually, I'm much better than I expected."

He gave her a questioning look. Ryn didn't say anything in response, however, but merely gazed back at him, waiting. Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line. When Monroe Styne had used the Book of the Damned to tap into his grace and siphon it out, Castiel had felt himself crack and splinter, much like what must have happened when Metatron had used his grace in the spell to cast the angels out of Heaven. Castiel hadn't had to live through the fracturing of his grace that time, but what he'd gotten back afterward was only a fragment of it. To have more of it chipped away…he'd expected to be severely weakened…maybe permanently.

And when he'd woken up at the bunker, practically an invalid, it hadn't surprised him. He'd slept for several days, and so didn't remember much. But then he began to regain his strength, and he had hope he could recover enough to still help fight the Darkness now that it had been released.

He did not expect as the days went on to feel rejuvenated and…strong. Strong in a way he hadn't possessed since his original grace had first been taken. And upon further inspection, Castiel had detected a foreign sliver of energy woven throughout his grace. He'd been alarmed at first, until he realized that the thread had fused pieces of his tattered essence back together, holding it securely like some kind of grace sutures. And there was only one explanation he'd been able to come up with.

"You gave me part of your spark," he finally blurted.

Ryn sighed. "I suspected you were starting to notice."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose I was afraid you'd think it was invasive, a violation."

Castiel frowned. "Then why did you do it?"

Ryn turned her head to meet his gaze. "Because I don't like it when you're hurting. And I knew I could do something about it." She paused. "Are you upset?"

Castiel thought about it for a moment. When he'd developed the suspicion on his own, he hadn't felt anger or betrayal at the implication, just…confusion. That she had willingly given a part of herself to him so readily.

And now Castiel felt a bond with her that was tangible in a way their connection had broached and hinted at, yet never transversed. It wasn't unlike the bond he'd once had with the Host of Heaven—a constant song deep within his core that filled him with warmth and light.

"No," he finally answered, and reached a hand toward hers, interlocking their fingers in the grass. "I'm grateful."

Ryn leaned over and kissed him. She tasted like cinnamon and smelled like burnt pine, filling Castiel with a heady rush that narrowed the universe to this one spot atop a hill, the heavens stretched out before them and nothing to hold them back after everything they'd been through and survived, together and apart. Not even the looming threat of disaster could wreck this current sensation of flying.

Their lips broke apart, and Ryn rested her forehead against his. "You can and always will have all of me," she whispered.

Castiel breathed in her smokey scent, completely and utterly in awe that this exquisite creature would love him. And he loved her just as much, and wanted to find a way to show her.

But the remembered threat of the Darkness intruded upon the serenity of the moment, and Castiel knew that now was not the time. There always seemed to be an apocalypse of some kind or other demanding his attention. It really was wearying.

But despite Dean's and Sam's words, Castiel still felt partly responsible for the Darkness being set free. And besides, he was no longer fighting just to protect humanity and the Winchesters, but also Ryn and the future he and she might have.

Castiel unfolded his legs and pushed himself up to stand, keeping a hold of Ryn's hand and subsequently pulling her to her feet as well. "We should get back."

She gave him a regretful, but understanding look. "Yep. Lots of books to comb through."

When they re-entered the bunker, however, they found Sam and Dean standing with their go-bags on the map table.

"Finally," Dean groused. "Didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. We found a ghost case, so we're heading over to Oklahoma."

Castiel flicked an incredulous look between them. "You're leaving to hunt a ghost?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Look, we're getting nothing here, and frankly I need a change of scenery and some action. You two okay to cover the research for a bit?"

"Oh. Of course," Castiel replied. He had yet to put in his share anyway.

Dean clapped his hands together once and then scooped up his bag. "Okay. We'll be back in a few days. Which means you two've got the place to yourselves, so if you need a break from the books…" He waggled his eyebrows at them suggestively.

"Dean," Sam hissed.

Dean continued grinning like a child as he turned to head up the stairs. "Just, uh, remember to use protection," he called over his shoulder. "And I don't mean an angel blade!"

Sam made a choking noise, and Castiel felt his cheeks flush hotly. After Metatron's repertoire of pop culture had been downloaded into his brain, Castiel now knew what 'protection' referred to. And while he was no stranger to the concept of sex, nor inexperienced after his brief time as human, Ryn was currently standing right there, and Castiel found himself suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Try not to get kidnapped again," he lobbed as a parting shot, briefly surprising himself.

Dean paused at the top of the balcony to throw him a stunned look, while Sam took a turn smirking smugly.

"Touché," Dean said appreciatively.

Castiel probably shouldn't have felt so satisfied at being praised for a verbal jab, but it was often Dean's weapon of choice, and it felt rather good to be able to 'give as good as he gets,' as one would say.

Sam cleared his throat and waved goodbye. "Let us know if you find anything on the Darkness."

Castiel gave him a nod. "We will."

He watched them depart through the door attached to the garage, and then turned cautiously toward Ryn, prepared to apologize for Dean's behavior. But the twinkle in her eye suggested she was just as amused as the eldest Winchester had been.

"Come on," she said. "These books won't read themselves."

Castiel frowned. Of course not.

He followed her into the study area where the Winchesters had left their pile of books they had yet to read. It was too bad Metatron's virtual library hadn't included any ancient lore, Castiel thought with a sigh as he took a seat and opened one.