How to Be the Man You Never Wanted to Be

Sometimes it's hard for him even to remember his time at Stanford. It was almost four years, four good years, but they've slipped away. He can still pull up memories if he tries, but now all he can think of are ghosts and demons and devil's traps and salt lines and shotgun shells and the warm, wet feeling of blood on his hands.

When memories of Stanford come to him on their own, they're always memories of Jess. Her smile, her laugh, her hands grabbing his, the smell of her baking when she knew he'd had a bad day, the smell of her hair lingering on pillows in the morning, her soft lips and the light in her eyes, the-

He shoves the memories away because he would rather forget everything good that happened to him at school than dwell on that.

He still thinks of her sometimes when he and Dean work. He thinks of her when they save people from the things that hunt them, and he thinks of her when they don't get there soon enough to stop it. Just one more name on the long list of people he should have been able to protect but couldn't.

He left home when he was eighteen. He left his brother, who he would die for in a heartbeat, who he knew needed him, because he was just that desperate to get out of the life. To be his own person. And for four years, he thought he'd done it.

And then he watched Jess and everything else he'd built at Stanford go down in flames, and even as he shouted and fought to try in vain to save her, a voice spoke in the back of his head.

Of course.

No one leaves the life, not really. If you grow up a hunter, you die a hunter.

Nowadays he thinks about the fact that for all the years he spent hating the way his father acted and the decisions he'd made, Sam was following that path exactly.

He went after revenge like his dad. He fought like his dad. He drank to forget.

Just like his dad.

How to Change

It starts by saving a righteous man from the depths of Hell. It starts by being too late to stop the First Seal being broken. It starts by burning the sin out of Dean Winchester with a hand on his shoulder and bringing him back to Earth.

It takes realizing that he isn't just trying to protect humanity by trying to prevent Sam using demonic power-he's trying to protect Sam's humanity.

It continues by defending the Winchesters from Uriel's assaults. It continues by taking orders from Heaven where Uriel wouldn't-not because of Revelation, not because of his Faith or his loyalty, but because Castiel wanted Dean to choose as he did. It continues by admitting for the first time that he has doubts about the orders coming down from Heaven. It continues by thinking that if Dean keeps making the decisions he has been, Castiel can follow him. Maybe more willingly than he can follow his superiors.

It demands knowing that Dean is different, even if he doesn't know why.

It takes convincing Dean to use what he learned in Hell to interrogate Alastair, even though Dean refuses for good reason, even though Castiel himself wants desperately for this not to happen. It takes making a mistake that almost costs Dean his life. It takes making a mistake that almost costs Castiel his. It takes looking for help from the one angel he can ask it from, and it takes having her tell him that he must choose his path for himself.

It takes exposing Uriel for the traitor he is and being saved by another traitor. It takes wondering whose side he's on these days.

It takes seeing the worth in the Winchesters' souls even if they can't.

It takes choosing Dean's safety over his own because he is just some angel; Dean is the one with a chance at stopping his brother releasing Lucifer. Dean is the one with a chance at stopping it all.

It takes reminding Dean that his is not the only life this fight has cost. It takes reminding himself that if he can only reawaken hope in Dean's heart, it will come back to the rest of them as well.

It depends on his knowing that Dean Winchester has the strength to stop the Apocalypse, even if no other angel believes it to be so, even if Dean himself believes he cannot do it. It depends on Castiel being able to convince himself that they will succeed, because if he believes it, really believes, the way he used to believe in his home and his garrison and his Father-if he can simply believe strongly enough, maybe Dean will do the same. And maybe it will be true.

It takes carving rebellion into his chest and sending himself and his brothers away in painful fragments, knowing that the pain didn't matter as long as it gave the Winchesters time.

It calls for an angel to turn his back on Heaven to follow the course he knows to be righteous when the superiors he is supposed to be able to trust fail him.

It takes befriending extraordinary men, men who give him the strongest faith in humanity Castiel has ever had. He even wonders if he has more faith in the Winchesters than he does in his Father.

But when Anna tells him that he's changed, he does not for one moment question if it's true.

How to Find Faith

He didn't have friends. Like father, like son, he supposed. He spent so much energy trying to be like his father that he barely had room to be himself, but John hadn't had friends. He had allies, he had other hunters he could work with and other hunters he could leave his sons with, but John Winchester had no friends.

Dean had his father, and he had Sam. He'd have a girl for a night or two every couple of weeks. He hadn't thought he'd need anything else.

And then he lost his father, and his steady, unchangeable world-hunt the yellow-eyed demon and kill every evil son of a bitch you run into along the way, and then maybe you'll be a real family again-it fell apart, and he latched onto Sam like his life depended on him. Maybe it did.

Sam died because he hadn't been there to watch his little brother's back, and he never forgave himself for it. It didn't matter that he got him back, because he let him die. What kind of a brother does that? Not one worth a damn.

So he gave up on himself. He expected everyone else to as well. What was he, really? A high school dropout with combat training and more issues than he could count.

But for some reason, one that he just could not fathom, they insisted on believing in him. Sam and Cas and Bobby all-they refused to quit on him, and they refused to let him go.

All of a sudden, and for the first time in his life, his family was growing instead of dying off. He had Sam, he had always had Sam, but Cas had become as much of a brother to him as anything else. He'd die for Cas every bit as readily as he would for Sam. They'd saved each other's asses time and time again, and Dean didn't know of any better way to judge how close he was to a person. He could trust his life to his brother-to both of them-and they knew that.

And he had Bobby. He had a father who cared about him-not about the family, not about keeping his boys safe because that's what you're supposed to do, but who cared about him-and it wasn't until he had Bobby that Dean realized John just wasn't the father he'd built him up to be in his head. He wondered if he hadn't admired his father more than he'd loved him. More than he'd trusted him. Dean couldn't imagine trying to fight fate without Bobby on his side.

These men who were so much stronger than he was, so much more good, insisted on trusting him, on believing that together they would find a way to halt Heaven's plans. And Dean doubted he would ever admit it to them, but he was starting to believe in himself too.

How to Become Human

He likes to watch the sun rise. Angels don't sleep, so he often just stands through the night, staring up at the stars and wishing he could peer into Heaven from here. But eventually the stars fade, the sky turns orange, and he witnesses the first rays of the sun as they fall on the ground around him.

On days when the Winchesters don't call him, he sits on quiet park benches and watches animals scamper across the ground and up the trees. He enjoys these uneventful days. He enjoys the feel of sunlight warming his skin.

But when he thinks about it, his thoughts lock in on that one word: Feel.

He is an angel. It shouldn't extend past his vessel's sense of touch, his vessel's physical reactions to heat and cold. And maybe those are just Jimmy Novak's body reacting to his surroundings.

But the doubt, that is all Castiel's. The connection he feels to Dean and to Sam, that has nothing to do with Jimmy Novak. There is no residual humanity left over in this body to make him eager to respond to the Winchesters' inevitable call, to make him feel happy to lay eyes on his friends once more.

Friends.

Angels don't have friends.

And yet he does. He has friends, and he cannot blame that on Jimmy Novak; he can only blame it on himself. When he realizes this, realizes that he has formed an attachment to this human concept of love beyond the love he feels for his Father, he feels like he is falling. He wonders if this is what it was like when Anna cast herself out of Heaven, out of home, wonders if she knew something he doesn't, wonders if she was as terrified as he is now.

But when the boys do call, and he faces them and meets their eyes, he doesn't feel like he's falling. He feels like he's floating, like his feet aren't even touching the ground, and it's the closest he's been to flying since he came to Earth.

This, he knows, this is why Anna chose to fall. This world, with its fascinating creatures and its enthralling people and its never-ending life. This is why Anna chose to become human.

And this is why Castiel might just do the same.

How to Go from Hero to Martyr

When you were younger, it was exciting. You and your brother and your father-you fought monsters. You rescued people. You saved the day. You were like Superman, only better, because you had your family.

When you got older, you stopped seeing it that way. You started realizing that this life was killing your father in spirit even if his body was still going. You realized that your brother was more of a parent to you than he was. You realized that your life wasn't nearly as glamorous as you'd built it up to be. You realized what normal kids' lives were like, and you realized how different you were. How different you'd always been.

You ran away because you'd learned that sometimes it takes a step backwards to figure out how to solve a problem. You stayed at Stanford not only because your father slammed the door behind you when you left, but because for the first time, you weren't obligated to go back. You had the taste of freedom on your tongue, and you wanted more of it.

You had the chance to warn Jess about what was going to happen, and you wasted it. You waved the visions off as nothing more than dreams, and you've been paying the price ever since. You let the best thing in your life burn, and now you're going to burn for it, too.

You fought for normalcy, but you're a freak, you've always been a freak. You're a demon-fueled, blood-drinking monster, and you keep telling yourself that the powers are worth the cost, keep ignoring the voice telling you that you're wrong, but you can't run away from this one forever. No, this one catches you, and it stops you in your tracks.

The Apocalypse. The end of the world. And it's your fault. You can blame Ruby all you want, but you're the one who trusted her. This is all on you.

Not only did you start it, you're supposed to be the main attraction.

Lucifer. You're not an idiot. You know the name, you know what it means. Pastor Jim gave you a decent foundation in religious knowledge growing up, even though neither your brother nor your father cared for it.

Still, with so many monsters to deal with on a daily basis, the stories from the Bible didn't faze you as much as they should have. You're not even really scared of the ghosts and demons trying to kill you and your family- and they've come dangerously close to succeeding time and time again. What could you possibly have to fear from a fallen angel?

Now you know. You can fight something that attacks you outright, but Lucifer's approach is so much subtler than what you're used to. He doesn't want you dead; he just wants you. And sometimes, the idea of not being Sam Winchester anymore... It's tempting.

But you're not stupid. You know that saying yes will tear the world apart, and you have to do everything in your power to stop that.

No matter what the cost.

Even if it's you.

How to Save the World

You keep trying to believe in yourself because everything, everything, rests on your shoulders. You could say yes, and Michael and Lucifer could cut the world's population in half. You could keep saying no, but you know now that without another plan, the world's toast anyway. You've seen it. You've seen yourself in that world, and it ain't pretty.

You keep trying to believe in yourself because Sam and Cas and Bobby all do, but you just can't. You haven't believed in yourself since you held Sam's corpse in your arms and your world came crashing down. You put the pieces back together as well as you could, but disaster follows you like a damn dog.

But here's the thing that you keep forgetting: You're not in this alone. Maybe you were for too long, and that's why it's so hard for you to remember now, but you're not the only one trying to stop the Apocalypse going down. So when Sam comes up with a plan, you feel a part of you breathe a sigh of relief.

It's hard to catch it past your heart sinking. It's not a plan he comes back from. This, you think, this is the reason you keep trying to bear all of the weight on your shoulders: Because that is the only way you know to protect your brother.

But he's his own man. He's not the kid you keep thinking of him as; he can make his own decisions, and he's going to save the world whether you want him to go or not.

So even though it kills you to do it, you let him go. You let him take the Devil into himself, and he takes the Devil back to his cage.

Sam in body and soul, you in heart. That's what it cost to save the world.

That should be worth it, shouldn't it?