Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Long time, no see! I'm sorry it took me so long to post this fic. It was supposed to be up yesterday before the new episode aired, but then it ended up gaining its own momentum and turned out twice as long as I had intended. *shrugs*

Anyway, this fic pics up in the middle of Episode 10x10, "The Hunter Games" and becomes and alternate ending for that episode and the ones that come after. It was inspired by a piece of art done by VaryuPon on DA, which is used with permission as the cover art for this fic and can also be found linked on my profile page. I really hope you enjoy it - it took me about 6 different drafts to find one I finally liked, but I'm very happy with the result! :)

The angel known as Castiel was a very old, very powerful being. It might not always seem so, given his tendencies toward naiveté and borderline-childish innocence whenever he was in the presence of humans, but his existence predated that of most everything else that had ever walked the Earth. As old as he was, Castiel had seen and experienced many things, from the extinction of the dinosaurs to the rise and fall of all the great ancient empires, and even the very beginning of human existence. Because of this vast knowledge and power, there were very few occasions in Castiel's long life when he could ever remember feeling truly helpless.

And yet now, having watched his brothers and sisters in Heaven return Metatron to his prison cell and realizing he had likely just lost his last chance at helping Dean be rid of the Mark of Cain, it was all the seraph could do not to fall to his knees and scream in despair.

Dean Winchester was Castiel's responsibility; his welfare had been the foremost priority in the angel's mind ever since he had been tasked with rescuing the Righteous Man from Hell. Now, six years and an unimaginable number of harsh trials later, the hunter and the angel had developed a new type of bond, a camaraderie that had evolved, at least for Castiel, into a deep sense of romantic love as well as friendship. Dean Winchester was the one person Castiel had ever truly loved more than life, and to see this man who meant so much to him falling so deeply into darkness was more than the angel could bear.

But what was he supposed to do now? He might have been an angel, but without his own grace Castiel was nearly as powerless as a human being – maybe more so, if the human beings he compared himself to were Sam and Dean. Using Metatron for information had been the last card he knew to play; without even that to fall back on, what good would he be to either of the hunters?

He didn't know how long he walked along the streets, too lost in his own thoughts to care where his feet were taking him. But when he finally did stop, he was surprised to find that he had wandered to the front doors of the local church, and suddenly the need to open the doors and go inside overcame him, the way a moth is overcome by the desire to fly toward a flame.

For a long time he stood in silence, gazing up at the large wooden cross hanging on the far wall and wondering whether his Father even listened to people's prayers anymore. Was there really a good reason these people spoke to God every day, or were they simply unaware that they had been left for dead a long time ago, their Heaven ruled by a few corrupt, power-hungry angels who had long ago forgotten kindness? He stared at the cross for several more moments, fearing what the answer might be. But then, realizing he had no other options and it couldn't hurt to try, he sank down to his knees, clasping his hands before him as he bowed his head and prayed.

"Father in Heaven, please hear my prayer," he muttered, closing his eyes as he spoke. "I know that I have erred many times in my life, maybe too many for You to forgive, and I wouldn't expect You to have any reason to listen to a fallen angel as useless as myself. But the Righteous Man is in danger, and I have no idea how to help him. I've tried everything I can think of, but it isn't enough; I don't have the strength to take on the Mark of Cain alone. Father, I ask that You help me to free him from this evil. Please, I…" He paused for a moment and bit his lip, wiping away a tear that had fallen down his cheek before continuing in a weak, shaking voice. "I don't know what to do…"

Hesitantly, Castiel opened his eyes, not sure what he had been hoping for but still sorely disappointed when all he saw was the same empty room he had been looking at since he came in. Sighing in resignation, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled his car keys out of his pocket, knowing he had to get himself together by the time he made it back to the bunker if he didn't want to be ridiculed for "acting like a girl." He had just reached the threshold and was preparing to push open the old oak doors when he stopped short, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

A human-shaped figure had suddenly materialized in front of the door, blocking his way as it seemed to size him up with its featureless face. Its body was made up of what looked like bright blue fire, twisting and flaring out in small waves as if it was so full of energy that it could barely be contained. As soon as he laid eyes on it, the figure moved toward him, and he instinctively backed away. All of a sudden the creature stopped as well, its arms open as if in welcome.

"Do not be afraid, Castiel," it said, in a voice that he could not hear but could actually feel resonating through the core of his being. It felt soothing, frightening, powerful, overwhelming, and all at once Castiel realized what was happening.

It was lucky that angels had no need to breathe, because Castiel had suddenly forgotten how, and he dropped to the floor on his knees, forehead pressed to the ground between his arms as he abased himself before this manifestation of the One he had been seeking an audience with for as long as he had existed. The fiery creature wasn't God Himself, but the power it exuded made it very clear that He had been the one to send it here, and Castiel was completely at a loss for how to respond.

"Fa… Father… I…"

"Rise, my son, and look upon me," the apparition said, and the angel obeyed, watching as the glowing fire twisted itself into a mirror image of Castiel, or rather Jimmy Novak, before his eyes. "This form that you see before you is made from your grace. I have reclaimed it from the one who had no right to take it from you, and he has been justly punished for his treason. If you choose to take your grace back now, I will ensure that you have enough power to rid the Righteous Man of the Mark of Cain, and I will teach you how to do so."

Castiel opened his mouth to verbalize his thanks, but the figure held up a hand to silence him. "Be warned, though, that it will take a great sacrifice on your part – one that may not be well received by the one you intend to cure. I have given you free will, and now I give you a choice: think carefully before you ask for this knowledge. Are you willing to accept the fact that in curing Dean of the evil that plagues him, you might lose your friendship with him as a result?"

The angel swallowed hard, his heart already aching at the thought of Dean telling him that he never wanted to see him again, and then clenched his jaw, nodding and leveling his gaze on the glowing eyes of the figure before him.

"Tell me what I have to do."

When he returned to the bunker, Castiel found both Sam and Dean waiting for him at the long table in the main room. Sam looked weary, much older than his thirty-one years, and Dean simply looked hollow, too drained and shocked by everything he had just done under the Mark's influence to be able to come to terms with it yet.

When he saw Cas come in through the front door, Sam blinked and looked up at him, giving him a forced smile as if he actually expected the angel to be fooled by it.

"Hey, Cas. How'd it go?" he asked, a little too casually.

"Metatron has been returned to Heaven," Castiel answered, shrugging out of his coat and draping it across the back of one of the chairs at the enormous table. "My brothers and sisters were understandably concerned by the condition in which he was returned, but I assured them that we had nothing further to ask of him and that it won't ever happen again."

Dean grimaced, standing up and approaching Cas with his expression drawn and guilty.

"Cas, I'm sorry," he began. "We'll find another way, okay? Sam and I will –"

"You and Sam won't have to do anything," Castiel cut in, his gaze suddenly distant and a little cold.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry for this, Dean." Castiel reached out and touched two fingers to the side of Dean's head, and the hunter's eyes rolled back in their sockets, his body almost hitting the floor before Castiel caught him and gently laid him down on his back.

"Cas, what the hell?!" Sam shouted, kneeling beside his unconscious brother and staring up at the angel with confusion and fury battling for dominance across his face.

"Sam, I don't have time to explain right now, but you're going to have to trust me. I need you to get Dean down to the dungeon now and restrain him, before he wakes up. I have to go ahead of you and start making preparations. I've found a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain once and for all, and we only have one chance to make it work."

Sam blinked, staring at the angel as if waiting for the punchline of this joke, and then nodded, realizing that whatever Castiel was thinking of doing, it might be the only way they had left to help his brother. "Okay. Sure, Cas."

But the angel was already gone, and Sam bent down and heaved Dean's limp body up and over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, wincing when his recently-healed shoulder loudly protested the abuse. As he slowly trudged down the hall, careful to keep from bumping Dean into anything or dropping him, he took a deep breath and sent a prayer up to anyone who might be listening.

"Please, please let whatever he's planning work… I need my brother back. Please…"

When Dean awoke a short time later, he was surprised to find himself sitting in the Men of Letters' dungeon, chained to an iron chair in the center of a large Devil's Trap just like he had been when Sam tried to cure him months ago. His heart immediately began to race, fearing that he had become a demon again and wasn't able to remember it. When he saw Sam and Castiel standing across the room he tried to force his voice to work past his unbearably dry throat, wanting nothing more than to go over there and prove to them that he wasn't a demon, and he didn't need to be locked up here anymore.

"He's awake," Sam said quietly, not meeting eyes with his brother. Dean's heart sank as Castiel turned around to face him, angel blade clutched in his hand and expression pinched and pained.

"Dean, I've found a way to get rid of the Mark," he said softly, approaching the hunter almost like he was afraid of him. "It will only take a moment; the ritual is almost finished." The hunter could see evidence of that scattered all around them, from the sigils and runes drawn in blood on the walls to the still-smoldering bowl of fragrant herbs on the desk across the room.

"That's great, Cas," Dean said softly. "But why did you have to knock me out and chain me up to do it? Can't you let me out of here? What, did you think I would try to kill you or something?"

Castiel didn't respond for a moment, and when he looked at Dean again his eyes were narrowed to slits. "Why don't you tell me, Dean?" he asked sharply, leaning forward and touching the Mark with only the very tips of his fingers.

In that instant, it was like a switch flipped inside of Dean. He suddenly stiffened and then lunged forward against the chains, snarling and baring his teeth like a rabid animal as his eyes flashed a deep obsidian color. He strained and writhed against his restraints, leaning as close to the angel as he could in his desire to tear him to pieces. The Mark could sense that it was being threatened, and it wasn't about to let go without a fight.

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed. "This was exactly what I was afraid of." He turned away from Dean and set his angel blade down next to a small sheet of paper on the desk, reading over the incantation he had copied down one last time to be sure he remembered the words.

"Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here, you piece of shit!" Dean screamed, his voice now a rage-filled roar as he continued to rattle his chains like a bear in a trap. "What, you too afraid to fight me mano a mano, Cas? Afraid I'll rip your wings off like a butterfly's? I was right to send you packing the last time you tried to stay here! You really are a pathetic waste of space if you can't even face me on your own, you damn fucking coward!"

"Sam, when I give the word, I need you to open the cuff on his right wrist for me," Cas said calmly, ignoring the screamed obscenities as he prepared for the last phase of the ritual. Bowing his head, he began to chant, his words growing louder every moment as his eyes and mouth began to shine with blinding blue light.

"Pater in caelum, audī orationem meam.

Dicutē hoc maledictum Hominī Justī.

Permittī omnes peccata suī ab lavāntur;

Permittī signum Cainum maledictum relinquī is ad eternam.

Relinquo omnes caelum potestam meam ad tu

Ut hoc hominum ante meam licet salvatur.

Rogō hoc in nomen Dominī, Pater meae.

Caelis dona mea fortitudinis."

Once he was done with the incantation, Castiel strode over to Dean's side and motioned for Sam to unlock the cuff around the arm that bore the Mark. The younger Winchester did so, and then took hold of it when Dean immediately tried to lunge for Cas, grunting as he strained to keep control against his brother's inhuman strength. Unfazed, the angel knelt down beside Dean, taking the hunter's hand in his and pressing his forehead to the inside of Dean's wrist.

"No matter what happens between us after this, Dean," Castiel whispered sadly, his voice barely audible as the demon snarled and rattled his chains, "I want you to know that I love you. I've always loved you, from the day I pulled your soul out of the fire in Hell. And whether you feel the same or not, I would give anything in the world to see you safe and happy, even my own life."

Sam's gaped at Cas, taken aback by this revelation, as the angel leaned forward and touched his lips to the Mark on Dean's arm. It immediately started to glow, first fiery red and then an icy blue. As he looked on in awe, he saw Castiel's eyes open wide, the brilliant grace shining from within them beginning to dim while the glow surrounding the Mark grew brighter and brighter. Dean writhed as much as his bonds would allow, now screaming in agony rather than anger, and tried to pull away from the angel's grip.

"S-Sam…" Castiel hissed from between clenched teeth, still somehow holding onto Dean despite the fact that the demon had broken his other arm loose from its bonds and was now gouging at the angel's face with his nails in a desperate attempt to free himself. "Let go of him and… close… your eyes."

Castiel gasped sharply, his eyes flickering between jet-black and his usual baby-blue, and he took one of his hands off of Dean's wrist, clutching at his chest as he doubled over in pain. "Close your eyes… now!"

Sam backed up and clamped his eyes shut, but not before he had time to see the way Castiel's eyes flickered between blue and black and then finally began glowing white, Dean's doing the same as the both of them threw their heads back and screamed. For several moments the room felt white-hot, and Sam was sure his skin was burning away from his bones as an unbearable heat cascaded over him like lava. He cried out, trying to back away from the source of the heat and covering his face with his arm, and the ground beneath him trembled like he was at the epicenter of an earthquake.

After what seemed like an eternity, everything suddenly grew still, so quickly that it took him a few moments before he dared open his eyes again. When he did, he hurriedly went to Dean's side, shaking his unconscious brother's shoulders and calling his name until he stirred and opened his eyes – his green, not black, eyes. Dean blinked blearily up at him, softly muttering "S'mmy…?" and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around his brother in a tight hug.

"Welcome back, Dean."

"'m back?" Dean muttered, looking down at his arm where the Mark of Cain had once been and instead seeing a new scar, this one shaped like a feather with the tip pointed down toward his hand. It fully covered the place where the Mark had once been, and it also reminded Dean of something.

"Cas… Where's Cas?" he asked, suddenly agitated as he tried to get up and realized he was still chained to the chair. Sam hurriedly unlocked the chains, and they fell to the floor with a clatter as Dean stood and staggered to the other side of the room, where he could see Castiel lying against the wall in a crumpled heap. Sam was only a fraction of a second behind him, his heart sinking as he saw the black wing-shaped marks etched into the wall and floor around the angel's body and realized he couldn't see him breathing.

"Cas? Cas, come on, buddy," Dean said softly, his voice wrecked from all of the screaming he had been doing only moments ago. He reached out and grabbed Castiel's shoulder, shaking him slightly while Sam slid two fingers beneath his jawline to check for a pulse. "Cas. Come on, man, wake up!" He was really starting to panic now, and he shook the angel's shoulder a little harder, not able to even think about the fact that seeing wing-prints etched into the concrete before had always meant their owner was dead.

To his relief Cas suddenly groaned, his face twitching slightly before his eyes opened to narrow slits, and then he blearily stared up at the two brothers in front of him. His gaze dropped to Dean's right arm and he suddenly smiled, taking Dean's hand and pulling it toward him so he could better view his handiwork. He had known that this ritual was intended to use his own grace to cancel out the evil of the Mark and seal it away forever, but he hadn't held out much hope that it would actually succeed. This was better than anything he had ever expected; not only had the Mark been sealed away, it had been completely obliterated, almost as if Dean had never had to bear the horrible thing at all.

"It worked, Sam," he said breathlessly. "The Mark is gone. My grace… was enough…"

"Whoa, Cas, hey," Sam said, catching Castiel as he started to list to the side. "Stay with us Cas, come on…"

"My Father heard my… most heartfelt… prayer," he muttered weakly, panting as the rest of his strength failed him and he slumped into Sam's chest. "The Righteous Man is… saved. I saved… you…"

"Cas, hey," he heard Dean muttering, the sound fading in and out like he was underneath the water. The dim lamps in the dungeon must have been in need of some new bulbs, because the lights were flickering terribly all of a sudden. He felt a pair of hands sliding under his body, and then he was floating, held against something warm as he was rocked back and forth like a boat on the sea.

"Hey… with me! Don't… this, man! …on, Cas! Sam, help me get… worry, Cas, you're gonna be okay… Sammy, hurry, I think he's…"

"Saved him…" Castiel whispered, smiling and pressing his face into the soft, warm thing that was carrying him through the air. "I saved him…" A stabbing pain shot through his chest and he gasped and moaned, making the soft thing holding him stop moving and call out his name, and then the darkness rushed in and enveloped him, wrapping him in a comforting blanket of oblivion until he knew no more.

The next time Castiel opened his eyes, he wasn't entirely sure where he was at first. He seemed to be in one of the rooms of the bunker, but it had been such a long time since he had entered any of those rooms except for the main entrance and the archives that he hardly remembered them. He could feel that he was lying on a very soft mattress with his head on a clean white pillow, and several plush blankets had been placed across his body, keeping him warm and comfortable like a cotton cocoon.

It wasn't until he turned his head to the side and saw the other person in the bed with him that he realized where he was: this was Dean's bedroom, and more specifically, Dean's bed with its special memory-foam mattress. Startled by this realization, he gasped and tried to move away, only succeeding in setting off a small coughing fit as the air passed through his dry, irritated throat and waking the hunter in the process.

Before he could even fully grasp what was happening he felt himself being pulled into a sitting position, a glass of water rising to meet his lips so he could drink while a warm hand gently patted him on the back. After a few long sips of water, the coughs thankfully stopped, and Dean took the empty glass from him and put it on the bedside table so it wouldn't be in the way.

"So, you're finally awake," he said slowly, looking Cas over as if afraid he might break. "Sam'll want to know that as soon as he gets back – he went out on a supply run while we were both down for the count."

"How long has it been?" Cas asked groggily, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he tried to clear away some of the mental fog clouding his head.

"Since you cured me? Almost three days. Sam and I were worried you weren't gonna make it for a while. But you kinda moved around and opened your eyes a few times yesterday, so at least we knew you weren't in a coma or something."

"Have you been here the whole time?" Castiel asked, noticing the bags under Dean's eyes and the fact that his stubble had now grown into more of a short beard.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, most of it. Sam was running himself ragged trying to go between two bedrooms to check on us both, and I was worried about you, so I figured it'd just be easier on all of us if I brought you in here where I could keep an eye on you too."

"And the cure… it worked?"

Dean grinned, looking down his arm and running the tips of his fingers over the large red feather-shaped scar. "Yeah, it worked. I haven't felt this much like my old self since… Hell, probably even before I got the Mark." He sat up a little straighter then, looking at Castiel with real concern in his eyes. "Seriously, though, how do you feel, Cas? You okay now?"

"I feel…" Castiel stopped to think about it, taking stock of all the bodily sensations he had forgotten since he had become an angel again over a year ago. His head ached, he was tired, his throat was scratchy and sore, and even though he was hungry his stomach felt slightly queasy after gulping down all of that water as quickly as he had. But all of these sensations were familiar to him, and could mean only one thing. "I feel human."

Dean nodded as if this had been the answer he'd expected. And then he looked away, turning his gaze toward the ceiling and sighing before he spoke again. "Why'd you do it, Cas? Why waste all your grace on me just to get rid of that Mark? I'm just one person. I mean yeah, I'm your friend, but I'm not an angel. There's no way I would ever have lived as long as you anyway. Why not just kill me? It would have gotten rid of the Mark, and you wouldn't have had to lose your immortality to do it."

Castiel tilted his head to the side, the way he had always done when something confused him, and looked at Dean like he was speaking a foreign language. "Why would I have wanted to kill you? What good is being immortal if the people I care about can't be there to share the experience with me? If the person I…" The ex-angel swallowed and fell silent then, staring down at his hands as a slight flush crept into his cheeks.

"So, you really meant what you said back there, then?" Dean asked softly. "You've been in love with me all this time?"

Castiel nodded, still not looking at Dean, and his face got even redder as he continued to gaze down toward his lap. "Yes. From the very moment I first laid eyes on your soul in the middle of all that darkness, there was something about you that I found completely irresistible. And I've never felt that way about another human, before or since."

He finally looked up at Dean, whose expression was completely unreadable, and his eyes shone with emotion as he said, "I understand if you don't feel the same. And if hearing this makes you uncomfortable to be around me and you would like me to leave, I'll respect your decision. But if that's the case, could I just…" He stopped, his voice cracking for an instant before he could catch it and pull himself together. "Would you allow me to remain here for another day or two before I get on my way?"

Dean, jolted out of his shocked silence by the sadness in the ex-angel's voice, leaned forward and pulled the other man into a tight embrace, hoping Cas didn't really believe Dean could ever kick him out of the Winchesters' lives again – or ever would have at all, if he hadn't been desperate to save his little brother at all costs.

"Whoa, hey, no… Cas, look at me," he said firmly, waiting until the brunet finally looked up at him before he spoke again. "I would never, never do that to you again, do you understand? Hell, if it hadn't been for Gadreel telling me he'd let Sam die if I didn't kick you out, I never would have in the first place! You just saved my life, man, and you've done it more times than I can count. But more than that, you're my best friend, and Sam's too. You have a home here with us for as long as you're willing to stay, 'til after we're all old and wrinkled if that's what you want, okay?"

Castiel smiled, a small tear escaping from the corner of his eye as he nodded his agreement. "Okay. Thank you, Dean."

"And Cas?"

"Yes?"

With a tiny, mischievous grin, Dean leaned forward and cupped Castiel's jaw in his hand, giving the ex-angel a chance to decide to back away before he kissed him, soft and light and chaste. The other man froze in surprise for a moment or two, and then sighed and melted into the kiss himself, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and leaning in close so he could feel the warmth from the hunter's skin through his thin T-shirt. Dean was patient and very gentle, kissing him slowly and idly running his fingers through Castiel's hair while the other man tried to work out what felt best to him, and how to try and mimic whatever Dean was doing so that the hunter could get just as much pleasure out of it.

When they finally parted for a moment, Dean smiled and lay down on his back, motioning for Cas to lay down beside him and laughing when the angel hesitated, looking like he was being asked some kind of trick question. "What's the matter?" Dean asked teasingly. "Do I stink or something?"

Castiel shook his head vehemently. "No, you just… Are you sure you want me so close? What about your personal space?"

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes and smiling at the ex-angel. "Oh, sure, now you decide to care about personal space. Just get over here before I change my mind."

Cas obeyed and Dean pulled him close against his side, throwing an arm around him so the ex-angel could lay his head on his shoulder. "Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you, and be able to hold you just like this? Why didn't you tell me how you felt sooner, man? I could've told you years ago that I felt exactly the same!"

Cas smiled, shaking his head and chuckling at the irony of it all. "Because I was a stupid ass-butt."

Dean smiled and kissed his temple, grabbing the comforter and throwing it over both of them before hugging Cas even closer. "Yeah, well, so was I. Better late than never though, right?"

"Right," Castiel whispered, clasping the hunter's hand in his and interlacing their fingers. "I love you, Dean."

Dean tensed and hesitated a moment, taking in a deep breath as he worked up the courage to say that dreaded L word that he had avoided using for most of his life, and then blew it out and relaxed against the dark-haired man in his arms. "I love you too, Cas."

The two of them lay still like that for a long time, Dean rubbing his hand over Cas's chest until the other man fell into a sound sleep, and when Sam came back into the room with a tray full of soup and sandwiches he seemed completely unsurprised to find his older brother cuddled up together with their once-angelic friend. The younger Winchester didn't say a word, just smiled and set the tray down on the bedside table so the two of them could eat whenever Cas woke up again, and then he strode over to Castiel's side of the bed and tucked the blankets in around his back, making sure no cold air could get through and disturb his rest.

Then he returned to the chair he had been sitting in for most of the last three days, cracking open a thick fantasy novel – a nice change from constantly researching the Mark of Cain for the last several weeks – and settled in to read and watch for any sign of distress from his brother or Castiel. Within moments Dean was asleep too, snoring softly and wrapping his arms around Castiel like a teddy bear, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

The young hunter held no illusions that everything in their lives was suddenly going to be rosy just because the Mark of Cain was gone; there were still monsters in need of hunting, demons and rogue angels up to no good, and Crowley's schemes to deal with.

Besides that, there were still oceans of issues between the two brothers that they would need to address in the near future, not to mention those that still existed deep down between Dean and his angel. After all, there would have been no reason for Dean to take on the Mark in the first place if not for the desperation he felt at having Sam so angry with him and not knowing what else to do to redeem himself.

And Sam intended to make all of that right. Painful as the experience of dealing with Gadreel had been, losing his brother in the battle with Metatron had reminded him that nothing in life was worth holding that deep a grudge over; hunters' lives were often tragically short, and he never again wanted to think that one of them might die thinking the other hated him. It just wasn't worth it.

But for today, all of that could wait. He didn't know how it had happened, exactly, but by something that could only be described as a miracle of God, Castiel had managed to bring Dean back to them, and neither he nor Sam had lost their lives in the process.

Today, finally, all three members of Team Free Will were back home where they belonged, safe and happy and healthy. And Sam wouldn't trade that for anything else in the world.

A/N: The incantation that Cas used was originally created by me using an English-to-Latin translation from Google, but was recently checked for accuracy by a reviewer named ThatLoser. It translates as follows:

"Father in Heaven, hear my prayer.

Dispel this curse laid upon the Righteous Man.

Let all his sins be washed away;

Let Cain's Mark of evil begone from him forever.

I relinquish all of my heavenly power to You,

In order that this man before me might be saved.

I ask this in the name of God, my Father.

Heaven give me strength."

Please feel free to leave a review, good or bad. It really means a lot!

P.S. Feel free to check out my DeviantArt page (username ZanaZira) to read about my recent experience at the Supernatural Con in Houston, TX and view the pictures I took there (Pics of J2M coming soon.) I had a blast! If you've never been to one, you really should go sometime. You won't regret it! ;)