Odd One Out
Ch.1
"Cas?"
The elder hunter's shoes made stumps upon the ground as he wandered about the bunker, currently seeking out their more-or-less-still holy friend, even if minus most the mojo. Sam was still searching for a new job. Dean thought it a bit pointless, yet he let his brother do it, waiting for him to find the job even so. They both seemed at a place, with all the crap-storming going on outside their home, where they just needed a break; they needed something like it used to be—they needed what used to be normal to them before every day seemed to be a battle against the whole world.
So he let him be, having dressed and prepared for a job that might come, though he hadn't dressed in many layers as of yet. And with no idea of what their extra member might be committing to at the moment, he felt the need to seek him out. He passed through the extra rooms, spotting a sleeping Kevin resting his head on stacks of papers, a noticeable pool of drool spilling on the edge of some pages.
Sighing, he shut the kids' door and let him be, continuing on through the bunker and calling out, again. "Cas, buddy, where you at?"
There was still no answer, and Dean was getting a bit aggravated. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway he was walking. He looked down in consideration, and then shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling out his cell, and pressing the speed-dial button for Castiel's number. He didn't raise the phone to his ear; he just listened, and listened.
And then he heard the very annoying, generic tone that was still Castiel's ringtone and he followed it before it went out. Castiel must have been surprised, because it took him a moment to ignore the call—but he obviously pressed ignore, because he sure didn't answer it and the call still cut short. Too late, of course. Dean was outside the door now where he'd heard the ringtone ringing from. But not outside the room they'd offered Castiel when they'd brought him home to the bunker after all that drama at the hospital.
No, he knew even before he opened the door, this room was mostly empty aside from some extra books and seemingly-and-most-likely useless trinkets and objects. It was a storage room, and Castiel was sitting right in the far corner slightly surrounded by boxes.
His body language showed he heard Dean as the hunter opened the door and entered slowly. The angel's body fidgeted slightly, his knees moving closer to his chest as his arms rested on his knees, and his head turned further in the opposite direction of the door. But he said and did nothing. Dean made a face that Castiel didn't see, one that could be followed up with a dry comment of, 'Really?' if one were to see it.
Dean stowed his phone away and closed more of the space of the room, standing over Castiel. Silence encompassed them as they seemed to wait for the other to speak. And it ended up being Dean's job, as he figured it would be.
"Going deaf, Cas?" he asked with slight irritation, but there was a touch of worry underneath it that could barely be heard.
Castiel sighed, and shook his head. "My hearing is normal."
"You sure 'bout that? Cause I've been calling for ya for about eight friggin' minutes." Maybe almost an exaggeration, but still, it was close enough. "You ignored my call to your phone, too, what was that about?"
As Castiel continued to keep whatever was wrong with him, to himself, Dean took a breath and sighed, squatting down in front of him and looking straight to him, even if the angel avoided doing the same.
"What's up, buddy? Seriously." Dean asked, and though the seriousness showed in his voice, his tone softened in that way it tended to do; the rough noise of his voice was always there, but there was something in his voice, that held knowing and understanding that made certain few feel like they could pop open a beer, plop on a stool and confess all their problems to him and ignore it for the rest of the night.
And that feeling almost pushed Castiel to speak earnestly, it truly did, but he could only shake his head. "There's…nothing up, Dean. At least not in the way you're asking me."
"Bullcrap."
Castiel finally looked at him then, and the way his features were twisted reminded Dean so much of some of their darker days together, the many things that weighed upon all of them. What was weighing on Castiel so much that he couldn't even talk about it? Well, if he wouldn't talk about it, then fine, but Dean wouldn't just leave him to sulk in whatever his thoughts were trying to drown him in.
"Look, Sammy's got a job prospect—we were thinking we might need some angel knowledge, so how about you come get ready, maybe get a bite of something, and we'll see what Sam's got, alright, come on." He whacked Castiel's leg and stood, expecting to see Castiel start doing the same, only to be disappointed. Castiel's gaze just fell again, and he just sat there still once more.
"Cas, come on." Dean urged with the sound of impatience, hoping it might stir him.
"No." Castiel tells him, and Dean is surprised by the firmness in his answer, and Castiel continued without looking to Dean. "I would be of no use there—if you really end up in need of answers to questions, the cell-phones are an option. I'd prefer to stay here, so I can stay out of the way."
"The hell does that mean, stay out of the way?" Dean asks. "No use?—come on, Cas, we can use your help."
Castiel looks up again then, giving Dean a look that questioned that statement. "Do you really believe that?"
"F-falling…what do you mean angels are…falling..?!" Sam asked in the back seat, twitching now and again, but mostly laid out in pain, just barely grasping on to coherency, his arms were burning and it sent an excruciating ache through his body. He gasped, laying back.
"They fell, Sam, I don't know! They…" Dean didn't have any words, his skin was still chilled in a terrifying way. What could have possibly happened? But he could barely even try to figure out; something was wrong with Sam, and he needed to get him help. Trying to remember the route to the nearest hospital, even he even had the route right, his heart was racing. He could still see one or another angel falling, now and again—like shooting stars.
And suddenly Sam gave yell of pain and he went silent behind him. Dean looked back in panic, seeing Sam was out, or seemed to be. "Sammy..! SAM!"
He looked back to the road, ready to pull over and slap his brother awake, only to slam on the brakes. "Shit!"
Castiel had suddenly stumbled into the road in front of the Impala, looking broken, in fear, and in despair, the lights of the impala making it all seem even harsher. Dean exited the car after it halted so close, swerved a bit, before Castiel, standing by the door. "Cas!? The hells going on?"
"…" Castiel couldn't answer, he just looked up to the skies and swallowed hard.
"Damn it, get in, we gotta get Sam help."
Castiel barely hesitated, entering the car into the passenger seat and looking back to Sam where he lay unconscious. "…What happened to him, Dean?"
"I don't know, the damn trials, he…I stopped him before he could finish the last…and it's like…something started hurting him, I have no damn idea! He was screaming in pain and he's out, Cas, he needs help!" Dean said, and before starting the car, he looked between the worried angel and his unconscious brother. "Cas, help him. Please."
"…I…can't."
"The hell do you mean you can't?!"
"I don't have my grace…!" Castiel admitted, looking to Dean reluctantly, and seeing the shock there, he kept the man's gaze like a guilty fool. "…I'm…I'm not an angel…anymore.."
Dean just stared at him silently, wordless, various emotions crossing his face in a span of seconds, and a million more thoughts, but he said nothing and started the car up again and picked up the speed, not caring if he risked police trying to pull them over.
Swerving up to the emergency entrance, Dean and Castiel pulled Sam's long and heavy form out of the car and carried him inside, Dean pushing his feet as fast as he could to get Sam to help as soon as possible. Some yelling at nurses, near fights with others, and complaints about time and panicked explanations of not knowing what's wrong, and they were finally set up in a room.
Sam was plugged up and jabbed with various wires and tubes and they set to work, keeping Dean and Castiel outside. Dean paced back and forth, and with the silence that followed as he did so, Castiel disappeared further into the hospital, searching for the chapel.
It took him some time, but he found it, half full of others and he sat in the furthest corner in the back. Looking around at the statues, the flowers, the windows and their images, he sighed and bowed his head. His voice was thick as he began to speak. "Brothers…sisters… I…know I have no right to call to any of you…but I do not do this for myself. Sam Winchester has risked his life to attempt to close the gates of Hell, and…many factors stopped him from doing so, and he is paying for it. Please…if any of you can hear me now, I ask that you come and help him. The Winchesters, despite the flaws most of you may see, are a gift made by our Father… Sam deserves to live… Please, I…" Castiel shook his head. "I'll do—"
"Anything?" he heard a female voice behind him and stood in surprised, looking to see an Indian woman and a man with glasses watching him.
He was surprised that they came so soon (as he could still faintly tell (for now) that they were angels), he was speechless for a moment, and the man spoke.
"Well?"
"W-well…what?" Castiel asked the man.
"Would you do anything, for us to heal the Winchester?" the man asked.
Castiel looked between the two of them, and in the distance he could hear the echoes of Dean yelling. He nodded slowly but firmly. "Yes, I would."
"Then we'll do it." The woman promises, and Castiel sighs in relief. "We'll heal him, in exchange for you giving yourself over to us."
Castiel is taken aback by this only briefly. He could imagine very well what they would do with him in their clutches, and as he imagined each lick of vengeance they and perhaps more might lay upon him, he knew.
"I agree."
Castiel ran into Dean on his way back, with the angels in tow behind him.
"Cas, what the hell? Where'd you go, and who are they?"
"I called for them." Castiel explained, glancing back to them. "Angels. They'll help Sam, they've promised me."
Dean sized them up with a doubtful, angry, and hateful gaze. "Oh really? And why the hell should I trust you guys to help him and not kill'em?"
"We're not doing this for free, Winchester." The woman told him. "We have a price, and it's been promised to be paid. But if you'd like to continue testing and interrogating us while your brother dies, then feel free to go on."
Dean narrowed his gaze, nostrils flared.
"Dean…" Castiel said his name, carefully, placing a hand on the hunters shoulder. "We need to save Sam."
He stared for a moment longer, before marching back to where they had Sam. They had to wait for some time before they would have the privacy for the four of them to enter and work on helping Sam, and Dean was very restless. Even more so as the doctors came out and informed Dean that Sam was in a comatose state, with no evidence or indication of cause for being in that state, and that fact offered little help for pulling him out of that state. He ungraciously thanked the doctor and entered the room, Castiel and the other angels entering behind him.
Sam lay there on the hospital bed, and it was as if the lights in the room made him look worse than before. He looked so weak, broken, and so far away. Dean came to his bed side, looking him over with furrowed brows and tight shoulders.
"Well what are you assholes waiting for….get too it…"
The angels pushed past Dean, and he watched as they both put forth the energy to work on Sam. He'd hoped with double the angel healing, Sam would be fine in seconds, but the longer they worked, he knew there was more damage to be mended than he'd even considered. He looked to Castiel, who was sitting in one of the chairs, leaned upon his knees and watching the ground. Dean went and sat by him with an angry plop; if a plop in a seat could be angry, Dean could surely make it so.
"So what did they ask for as payment, huh? The eighth wonder of the world, stairway to heaven?" he ran a hand through his hair.
Castiel didn't answer, and Dean looked to him.
"Cas, what did they ask for?"
The former angel didn't look to him, but answered. "Something every angel probably wants at this point. It was enough to convince them to help Sam, and that's what matters."
Dean's jaw tightened. "Cas…I think you realize I have some pent up aggravation right now….so if you don't give me a straight answer, I swear to god, I'll beat it out of you."
"He's got a lot of damage." The male angel at Sam's side spoke then, sounding as if he was exerting a decent amount of energy for this. "You're lucky you have the two of us here… We're working from the inside out."
"He'll be fine, but he'll need rest and recovery time." The woman informed them as they were still working away.
"Yeah, thanks…" Dean muttered just loud enough for them to hear, looking back to Castiel who was watching Sam with worry and sadness but a strange relief.
"…Cas…what did you promise them?"
Castiel sighed then, casting his gaze up. Dean wouldn't leave this alone. He didn't look to Dean as silently, he answered. "…Myself, to them. Which is only right—it's my fault this happened. It's my fault Heaven was so damaged that it was weak against…against problems like Naomi and…and M-"
"He's healed, now." The woman told them then, her and the other angel straightening and looking to Castiel.
Castiel straightened up in his seat as the two angels watched him and began closing the space to him. Castiel did nothing to leave or stop them. He had no intention of going back on his promise. This was the right thing to do.
Dean, however, had other plans. Standing and making as if he were going to check on Sam, he passed by the woman, only to reach into her jacket, grasping and finding what he searched for as she jerk away. And suddenly the hilt of her angel blade was the only thing seen in his grasp, jutting out of her stomach as her eyes shown light, a screech of her and her grace bursting into nothing and she crumpled to the ground.
Castiel stood. "Dean!"
Dean was already after the next angel, who then blasted him back into the door, hard enough to shatter the glass of its window. The man turned on Castiel with a glare of unfathomable hatred as he raised his hand, blasting Castiel back and up the wall and nearing him with his blade sliding from his sleeve. He raised the blade.
"This is what you deserve….for what you've done to us..!" the angel told him, his voice shaking with pain and anger.
Castiel shut his eyes and waited, only to hear the screech of another fallen brother, eyes shooting open to witness him crumple before Dean where he stood. Castiel slipped down the wall, colliding to the ground on his behind.
Castiel watched his fallen brother before he looked up to Dean, who looked like a tired soldier who was so near done, but still ready to do what was necessary. "…Dean, I-"
"Get up and help me get Sam, before any doctors or security come." Dean demanded, stowing the angel blade and going to Sam's bedside, Castiel soon joining him.
A few opportune turns, snagging of a wheelchair, and sneaky avoidance and quick feet, and they were outside once more. They slid Sam into the back seat and settle into the impala once again. They were on the road and riding through the darkness for some time before the silence was interrupted.
"Dean—"
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean asked, his voice tight and terse.
"I was thinking Sam needed help, more than what doctors could provide, and something that I couldn't do." Castiel explained.
"But giving yourself over as their, what, punching bag? Hostage? Torture victim?!" Dean questioned.
"Whatever they had planned for me…I was prepared, Dean, I was ready." Castiel looked to him, almost feeling annoyed he was not allowed to follow through.
"I don't give a damn what you were prepared for! You don't do shit like that, we could have found another answer! You don't do that without running it by us! You were just going to leave us behind?!" Dean questioned, stealing angry glances when not watching the empty road.
"I was paying for my sins, Dean, it's no more than what I deserved!"
Dean just shook his head, and Castiel looked out the window. Dean didn't understand how deep Castiel's sins were. He would've most likely agreed, if he had. What sane person wouldn't agree, with all he'd done?
"…Metatron betrayed me, Dean… He took my grace, and that's…that's what caused the angels to fall. He killed Naomi, and what we were gathering wasn't to shut the gates of Heaven, it was to cast us all out…and my work with him, and my grace, helped him do it." He looked to Dean, waiting for his rage, is annoyance, a sonova' bitch to the sky, maybe even anger to Castiel himself. He even expected the car to stop, and him to be told to get out.
Nothing.
For once, Dean kept his eyes on the road, and he said nothing as he drove. Castiel didn't look away, just waiting, patience wearing thin, as the silence almost felt worse. He'd rather take whatever Dean wanted to throw, than to sit there not knowing if Dean thought him a failure, whether or not he was a failure.
But not a word was spoken, not a single one, other than, "We'll lay Sam up in his room. Check on him now and again." as they arrived and parked outside the bunker.
Castiel did as he was told, with little word as Sam's still mostly unconscious form was dragged through the bunker, and after avoiding a failed fire of an arrow from Kevin, down to his room where they lay him in his bed, Dean going to far as to half cover him with blankets before making his way out of the room, Castiel following behind him.
Kevin found them as they were just exiting the long hallway to the study room, and he still seemed just as panicked as he had been when he was hiding with the crossbow. "So what's going on? What even happened out there? Everything went crazy in here, like I've never seen it and—"
"Shit happened, like it always does." Dean told him, and Kevin was about to continue. "Angels…they fell, Kevin, and shits' got worse, if that's possible. Hell, it's always possible for us..."
Kevin was without words for a moment, and looked paler than he had been when they'd arrived. Swallowing and wetting his dry throat, the prophet seemed to search for words through shaky breathing. "…W-what…what do you do now?"
Dean's back faced him, and Castiel, his hand raising up to his face and rubbing over his features, cupping his mouth before dropping the hand to hang at his side. He took a breath, sighed, and turned to the two men watching him. "We hold up here. I ain't risking crossing some home-sick dick with wings or any of our other problems right now, no—no, I ain't doing this right now… Sleep, eat, vacation in your damn rooms, I don't care. We're staying in the bunker until we figure out how we can even handle this crap-storm."
Dean turned back then, as if he intended on heading back to Sam or perhaps his room, and Castiel took the chance to try and speak. "Dean, I—"
Dean didn't even stop or look to Castiel, he just said, "Don't."
"I don't need to be doing anything, Dean." Castiel told him after a moment of letting the reminder of their experience after the fall sink in for Dean. "Because every act I commit seems to have a negative reaction. It seems to be in my very make up, to try to fix things and have them break further."
"Now you're just being a drama queen." Dean started to interrupt, but was surprised to see Castiel wasn't allowing that, as the fallen angel stood and continued.
"I am being perfectly accurate and truthful, Dean." He came toe to toe with Dean, similar to how he had before he'd learned the need for personal space. "No matter my intentions…no matter why I did what I did, it was always for the worst. It doesn't matter that I only meant well, meant to better things. I still made them worse than they were before I tried."
"Yeah, well, whatever you believe Cas, sulking ain't going to make it better—you gotta keep trying. It's bullshit, k, that you should just….just STOP. And it's bullshit that everything you do only makes things worse! You've done plenty'a good."
The look in Castiel's eyes was something Dean honestly wasn't sure he'd seen before, at least not all at once; anger, self-doubt, despair, to look of crushing failure, he looked crippled by ever part of him and Dean didn't even know how to start changing that look. But Castiel continued to give his blue gaze to Dean's green as he spoke. "Was it good, when I began the Civil War in Heaven? When I was working with Crowley to get those souls, to get the upper hand in that war? Was it good when I tried to fill my Fathers' shoes as God, do what he was failing to do, try and better the world to be what you and Sam wanted it to be? What I came to believe it should be? Was it good when my failure released the Leviathan, who took… When even I took…lives that shouldn't have been taken…" his gaze almost wavered, and Dean had a reprieve, almost leaning away from Castiel, but still standing his ground as the ex-angel bore down on him with his words and his conviction and negative belief of himself. "All the damage, I've done, old and new…. I beat you near to DEATH, Dean. How was THAT good?!" his voice was terse, scratching and his gaze angry but Dean could recognize that anger. Self-hatred was something Dean understood well.
Castiel finally gave Dean space as he turned away, shaking his head and taking a moment, but he only returned to his point. "You don't KNOW what Naomi had me do, all because she felt I should make up for the damage I did. She took me from Purgatory to make me pay. And I paid, with Samandriel's life, with…with so much… Nearly your life, you don't…" his voice almost shook, as his head did. He couldn't look at Dean. "…You don't know…what she had me do…what she put me through, to prepare…"
"But you stopped." Dean reminded him then, taking a step closer. "You broke free from her control over you… You broke free, you healed me…" Dean tried to reason, though he still didn't know all the details of course. He'd never really asked more than what was important for the job, for the mission at hand, and Castiel had only told him so much.
"Putting a band-aid on one scratch doesn't mend an entire body full of wounds, Dean. That's not how it works, you've taught me that." Castiel stated, staring to the wall, lost in thoughts and memories that just made his very form seem weak and tired. "No, I'm done… I won't fix anything else, Dean. I'd rather stay here, with my thoughts… This is what I'm meant to be, I've come to realize here in my wonderings… I'm meant to be the odd one out in my existence here."
Dean shook his head, hands on his hips as he still obviously wasn't believing or supporting any of Castiel's points one bit, he felt like this was ridiculous and needed to stop. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm the odd one out in every part of me…" Castiel's brows furrowed as he looked to Dean. "I have no place among you and your fellow humans as one of your own. I can't…live as one, Dean, I just can't. I'm not even a proper Winchester despite your past or current beliefs, whatever they are now." He stated, Dean made a look to question that statement but didn't get a chance to say anything about the implications. "I do it wrong, it seems. My former purpose as your holy aid is long gone without my grace, I'm no use in that aspect. I'm perhaps as bad if not worse than Lucifer as an angel; he may have been terribly corrupt, but at least he still had purpose and success in his self-made and chosen missions before you stopped him. I have nothing anymore, Dean… I can't be…an angel and the friend to the Winchester boys at the same time without twisting one or the other or both. I cannot seem to exist with success as both. There's no point wasting time or breath on whether I make a decent hunter of any sort. I know well I'm laughable." At this point, his sulking was just turning to a resigning to his fate or something of the like. His features were leaning more towards tired and worn out. "I know your faith in me is less that it has been at our best moments, Dean..." he looked to him then. "I'm not the angel…the man…the being you felt to be a part of your family and who felt you were the same…" he just shook his head. "I'm the odd one out of every purpose of existence, every role I could play…. Naomi even told me, something that didn't make sense, but I think I get it now…I've forgotten, perhaps been forced to forget, I have always been this. Rebellious, separate, unusual…defective."
"Cas…" Dean began, unsure yet there was still that strong tone that suggest he was about to argue a separate point.
"You can't honestly say that your faith and trust and approval of me has never been shaken or broken, Dean." Castiel said in a tone that Dean was very sure was to just shut him up.
And Dean did, for the moment, not looking away from Castiel as he ran through all the shit they'd been through together in his mind. From the moment they met until now, skipping a few things of course, but some things were just too great, too big that you couldn't just forget. He remembered his anger at Castiel in the beginning for all he did for Heaven and what little for Earth, but that changed, as everything did with each problem that came up. He remembered all the times Castiel had strayed the wrong way or did something stupid or damaging and how pissed he himself had been, and the times he did blame him. He admitted, he blamed and had been angry with Castiel, plenty of times.
But to him, it was no different than times he might blame Sam, or hell, HIMSELF. He blames himself for far too many things to keep track of, or to dwell on. He's failed in so many things, possibly more things than he even wants to admit to at the moment. He felt those failures, especially the bigger ones, but he wasn't going to let them break him. He couldn't. That wasn't in his job description. And he wouldn't let it be in it for Castiel, either.
"You know what you are, Cas?" he began to speak then, and Castiel looked to him, tiredly. "You're like me. Unsure. Lost. Doubting. But you're trying, too. Always trying, always fighting. We're warriors is what we are, Cas, you and me, and Sam. You and me, we try and fight the right battles. Whether they're right or not, it seems like it at the time. And maybe in a way it was. It always seems like the right one to me…and we fuck up. Alright? It happens, always will, we ain't perfect, no one is. You can't tell me anyone is. Sometimes our fight might end up being for the wrong battle. But we keep trying. We learn eventually, and we do what we can to make it right. Damage is done, and it's never gonna be able to be fixed. Not even with your damn angel mojo, did that ever happen, k?"
Castiel narrowed his gaze, confused by that, his head almost quirking, but his energy was even too tired to allow that.
"You heal the body, yeah, but not the mind, not the experience, it's still there, you can't take that away. You just gotta do what you can, and move on. All we can do is keep trying, Cas. Or else, what the hell are we still breathing for?"
Castiel watched him, almost seeming to consider his words for a moment and Dean straightened up, thinking perhaps he finally got through to him. Castiel's brows furrowed then as he responded.
"Then answer me this; do you forgive me for all my faults, my failures? Because I remember vividly that even without knowing and hearing all the facts behind some of those failures, you assured me that apologies were pointless." Castiel said. "I tried to apologize, for the damage I did because of Naomi and what happened with the tablet and everything else. Do you remember what you told me?"
"Cas—that's forgiven and forgotten, I haven't brought that up against you in a—"
"You told me sorry didn't cut it. And that I should…to quote you correctly, 'cram the apology up my ass'. I knew then, it never mattered WHY I did anything. It will never be right enough by everyone, if anyone."
"That's crap, Cas." Dean took a step closer, pointing a finger and inwardly regretting having said that to Castiel before even if he had felt it right in that moment.
"It didn't matter that it was after that, that I sought out a way to make things right and thought I found it in Metatron."
"Cas. Stop."
"Again, I failed."
"So the fuck does everyone else."
"You were disappointed, angry until you found me on that road."
"I was angry, Cas, yes, I get pissed and I was pissed then, but that was from all the shit—just, everything we've been put through over the past…I don't even know how long, to even include all the crap we deal with! Humans fucking react emotionally when they're hit by shit-storms, and I didn't want to understand what had been the cause or reason for anything for you, I just…" Dean shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, hating some of the words but still admitting them. "I get pissed at the world and sometimes that gets aimed at specific people, it ain't an excuse, but it ain't disappointment either, Cas. You're still here."
"It doesn't matter." Castiel shook his head.
"Yes, it does, Castiel, 'cause I didn't want to hear, and you had to go to METATRON. Just like you had to go to Crowley..!"
Castiel visibly winced, shaking his head more fervently. "It. Doesn't. Matter." He looked Dean in the eyes again then. And Dean, with that gaze, was done. He closed the space and grasped Castiel by the shoulders, forcing the angel to face him and hear him.
"Right now, you are gonna tell me everything, explain it all."
"Dean-"
"Tell me everything with Naomi that you didn't tell me or explain before. And anything else, you tell me it right now. You want to try and convince me of this damn self-hatred you have right now, then give me all the facts you have in your head."
Castiel was taken aback, and could do nothing but comply. "…N-Naomi brought me from Purgatory, and I didn't know…didn't understand or get control until it was nearly too late…when you were on your knees and bleeding. Whatever she did, she was able to speak to me, condition me, convince me to do what she wanted or needed, without even removing my presence Earth. I could be at your very side…as I had been when we were there with the angel tablet, and be there before Naomi at the same time. She wanted me to kill you, Dean, she…I can see flashes, she was pushing me, conditioning….so many times, she made me kill you."
Dean was surprised by that. "…She made you…?"
"Practice, to make sure I could do it. I lost count of how many times she pushed me to do it; she was never able to trust I could do it. You died by my hands so many times..."
Dean's hold on Castiel's upper arms softened faintly.
"She made me…do so many things, condition me, convinced me by telling me I had stained my hands with the blood of Heaven, and I had to fix it. But this doesn't matter, Dean—it just doesn't, it doesn't change—"
"Yes, goddamn it, it does. The reasons for why we do what we do are always important, and I am going to understand why you did the things you hate yourself for doing." Dean stated forcefully.
"No, Dean it doesn't; there are too many reasons, and none of them excuse what I have done! It doesn't matter if I thought it would make things better. Or if I thought it was something you wanted, that would keep you and Sam and the rest of the human race safe, or better off than they were. It doesn't matter what I've…what I've felt, if these hands," he raised his hands between the two of them, "are still marked with blood of too many that didn't deserve the shedding of that blood."
"It. Does. Matter." Dean told him, and though his voice was low, his tone was strong, as were his eyes and his hold on Castiel.
Castiel swallowed, beginning to shake his head as he lowered his gaze again.
"DEEEAAN! CAS!" Sam's voice tore down the hall and into the silence of their room with panic that told them something was wrong.
Dean released Castiel and was already making his way to the door with Castiel behind him. "SAM!" he called back, racing down the hall. "Sam, what's going on?!"
"We've got company!"
Dean picked up his speed, if it was even possible for him to run faster. Soon the corner of the hall was in sight, and with the sound of Castiel shoes pounding behind him just on his tail, he turned the corner to where he knew he'd last left Sam at his computer for research on a job.
"Dean, it's here, he—he's here, what the hell are you—" they heard Sam speak with worry and confusion just as they find him further from than desk than usual, and they just catch Sam throwing his hand up to cover his eyes and ears as a screeching noise was growing and tearing through the bunker, a white silhouette between Sam and them, turning to them as it's light was growing and expanding.
The last thing Dean heard was Castiel just speaking before his words were cut short. All he got out was, "G—" before everything was silence and darkness.