Disclaimer: All characters and whatevernot belongs to Eric Kripke. I am jealous of his mind.

This is the first fanfiction that I have ever written. Ever. I would appreciate comments and such. -is nervous- I hope you guys like it.

Spoilers up to the entirety of the series, which is up to Season 5, episode 10.

When Castiel visited Dean the night Lucifer rose Death, Dean did not acknowledge his presence, although Castiel knew that Dean was aware.

At that point of time, Castiel had sent them both back to Bobby's place with a quick touch, one that spoke of urgency, with a gentle caress of faith, and Dean had felt it. The warmth that had seeped through his body, filled with the Grace of the one soldier that had defied his superior, who had lost everything that he had ever sought to take comfort in, and all of this, all for Dean.

He had vanished the moment Dean caught his bearings and realized where he was, and a sense of security had washed over him, causing his knees to buckle, resulting in an alarmed shout from Sam, and strong arms winding around his waist, supporting him. For a moment, Dean wanted to snuggle into the embrace of Sam, and for a moment, Dean wished that he had never looked for Sam in the first place. For a moment, he wished he had been more of a man when he realized that Dad was missing, and went looking for the man himself. He would not know the love that had blossomed over the years Sam and he were together hunting, but neither would he know the quiet despair that he had slowly been sinking into.

He wouldn't know the sensation of betrayal, the feeling that had dragged his soul to perdition once more and made him wish that he were dead, or tortured, because then his mind would be too occupied to even think about the betrayal.

He wouldn't know the feeling of desperation and hopeless, of anguished longing as he believed that he had to separate himself from Sam to keep them both alive.

He wouldn't know the feeling of utter helplessness as he watched Lucifer wear Sam, throw him facial expressions that Sam would never make on his own accord and yet was still utterly Sam.

And then Dean's breath hitched, and just in that instant, he became away that his cheeks were wet, and tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks. If he had been aware, he would have muttered a strong 'goddamn it, I'm not having a chick flick moment', but he was not, and the last thing as he heard before he slipped back into darkness was the incessant and high pitched voice of Sam repeatedly calling his name, slowly lowering him to the floor, the strength in his arms never waning.

'Dean? C'mon, Dean, get a grip! Dean!'

And the next thing he knew, he felt comfort at his back. A soft mattress, and a pillow carefully plumped at the back of his head. Steadying himself, he heard the rhythmic sound of Sam's breathing next to him, and Dean didn't have to open his eyes to know that Sam was sleeping next to him, on a chair, with his mouth open and his head lolling. Dean almost chuckled at the thought, but he sobered immediately, and the chuckle died before it could even reach his throat.

He knew that there was someone else in the room, and he knew exactly who that someone was. Who else had that strong of a presence? Who else could bring such a thrum of power into the room and have Dean, on some level, respect and fear it?

Even if he didn't outrightly show it.

He still remembered the time when Castiel had threatened to throw him back to hell, and fuck, was he a dick back then. But he had come through, in the end. He came through. And if Dean couldn't respect that, he would be the spineless, souless son of a bitch.

But he remained quiet now, hoping that Castiel would go away, just go away. As much as he had grown to like the man, Castiel was just a reminder of all the things that had gone wrong.

'Dean. I know you are awake.'

Dean ignored him. Fuck you, Cas, go away.

'If you do not answer me now, Dean, I will crawl into your dreams and talk to you there. I know you do not like it, and I do not wish to do something you do not like.'

It was just like Cas; his spoken words were way too formal, and coupled with the intense blue gaze that Dean knew was on him right now, he totally didn't want to open his eyes.

But he heard the misery too, and the sadness in those words.

And he knew it was his fucking fault that Cas had nowhere to go.

So he opened his eyes.

'What the hell do you want, Cas.' His voice was raspy, hoarse, and sounded like he had bawled his head off when he was awake. Shit, why the hell do I sound like that? Did I actually cry like a sissy? Oh, god.

'Lucifer has risen Death.'

Cas' voice was so matter of fact that Dean had to snort. 'Yeah, I get that, wiseass. You got anything new for me?'

The derisive tone in his voice caused Castiel to once more, tilt his head in that annoying fashion of his, and regard him with eyes that were no longer full of certainty, but doubt. Dean was glad that he now had opened those doorways to doubt, as he, or rather, his sanctimonious sons of bitches of bosses had called it, but he still flinched.

'I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault.'

'Who the fuck said I thought it was my fault?'

The words came too fast and too hard, and Dean knew it didn't sound convincing. Well, no one could blame him for not trying, anyway.

'You think you started all of this. You think that if you had left Sam alone, all would be well.'

Dean turned to his left, and Cas was just suddenly there.

'Son of a bitch. Quit doing that, Cas!'

But Castiel ignored him, and slowly moved in, pitting his blue eyes on equal level with Dean's own, and Dean shifted uncomfortably on his bed. It felt as if Castiel was looking into his very soul.

'Why are you here? Don't you have God to find?'

'I am here because I have to be, Dean. Because you need someone to tell you that it is not your fault.'

'Is that why you're here then? Pity?'

Dean spat the last word out as if it were poisonous venom, and his eyes reflected that thought. He did not want pity.

'No, Dean. I'm here to tell you the truth, because you need to hear it. You know I do not lie; I am not capable of doing so. You are worth something to us, to me. Look at the bigger picture here. You have started it, but you can stop it. Look at the present, look to the future, and not the past.'

And then Castiel looked away, and Dean straightened on the bed, pushing himself up to sit.

'You allowed the seals to be broken.'

Dean looked away.

'But you did not break them.'

Dean looked at Castiel again.

'Do not feel guilt for what you have not done. Gather faith instead for what you can do. It would be for the best, for you, and the world. And me, as well.'

'Will you follow me?'

Dean knew this was a lapse in his facade, in his devil-may-care strong facade, but he did not care. Castiel could look into his soul anyway; why hide that which cannot be hidden?

And, it may also be possible that Castiel was the only one he could ask that question of.

Once upon a time, he would have considered asking that question of Sam, him, and no one else, because he felt that Sam knew him better than anyone ever could. Of asking his brother if he would follow him no matter the consequence. Once upon a time, Sam would have looked at him with the sincerity that he knew that Sam had in him, and answered an earnest and resounding 'yes'. Once upon a time, Dean would have believed it without question. But now was not 'once upon a time', and life wasn't a fairytale.

For a while, Dean was afraid that Castiel would say 'no'.

'I would follow you to the ends of the earth.'

Dean searched Castiel's eyes, and he saw nothing but pure truth, pure faith, and Dean's heart trembled. It took a moment for Dean to recognize the feeling as gratitude, and a small smile stretched across his face.

'If you asked of it, I would Fall, and I would believe it had a cause.'

Dean gaped at Cas, then, trying to make sense of what he had just said. Cas looked like he had just announced that he sun rose in the morning, for all the certainty and conviction he put in that sentence, and just then, his eyes held no doubt whatsoever. It reminded Dean of the soldier that Cas was supposed to be; utterly loyal and faithful in his belief to God. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Dean thought that Cas might possibly still be the only one who believed that God was in the house, who was unwilling to believe that God would simply sit back and let them die. So innocent, so naive, so good and fucking strong, and Dean felt like he had cruelly destroyed that and placed unadulterated sorrow in its place. 'Keep. Your opinions. To yourself.' Such anger, such sorrow, and Dean caused it all.

'Cas --'

'That is how much you are worth to me, Dean. I have placed my faith in you. You will not fail me.'

With that, Dean laughed softly, and Sam shifted in his sleep, causing Dean to lapse once more into a moment of silence, while Castiel simply stood there, waiting for something even Dean didn't know was to come.

'And here I was, thinking that you've opened the doorways to doubt --'

'I have, Dean. Just not in you.'

And then Dean smiled, a real genuine smile that lit up his features in ways that had been lost since a couple of years ago. He chuckled, and bowed his head down as Castiel stood silently next to him, a strong force that Dean quietly appreciated.

'Don't you hate me for what I've done to you? I took away everything you've had.'

'But you gave me something I've never had. You gave me the chance to do what I thought was right.'

And when Dean looked up, Castiel was smiling softly at him, and Dean felt his expression soften. It was almost as if he received forgiveness, something that was all he had ever needed, from that single sentence of Cas', and he felt the tension that he never knew was there vanish from his body.

'Thanks.'

'Sleep now, Dean. Have faith.'

And then, two fingers were reaching out to him as his glance fell on Sam as he breathed steadily beside him, and even as darkness claimed him and he trained his line of sight back to Cas, he found the time to mutter one soft sentence that made Castiel smile widely.

'Faith in you, Cas. In you.'