Chapter 1

"I just want to be an angel." Cas felt empty as he spoke the words. Hannah was standing in front of him— praising him for imprisoning Metatron— but he couldn't pay attention to what she was saying because he could only think of Dean. Now he was dead, too; Metatron's voice rung in Castiel's head. Normally, Cas would think that Metatron was lying—threatening him with the idea of Dean being gone. But Cas had seen the blade. He'd seen the blood. He'd seen the look in Metatron's eyes and known that he was telling the truth. Metatron had raised the same weapon he'd used to kill Dean and prepared to thrust it into Castiel's heart, and at that point, Cas hadn't cared. Do it, he thought, I'd rather die than live without Dean. Dean is all I live for. But the angels he'd called had come to his rescue— he wasn't sure if he was grateful for that anymore.

Cas just wanted to be an angel again. Not the angel he'd become, but the angel he was before. Before he'd started hunting, before he'd met Dean, before the apocalypse, before Purgatory, before everything. Maybe then he wouldn't feel the pain he felt right now. Maybe he'd go back to simply following orders— he didn't care who they were from anymore. It didn't matter. Dean was dead, and he was the only one who had ever made Cas feel the need to rebel, to fight for a cause.

But…wait, Cas thought, if Dean is dead…he must be in heaven! He must be here! Cas' heart fluttered in his chest and he immediately began searching for Dean. What would Dean's heaven be? Would it be with Sam? It wouldn't be with… Don't be stupid— it's not with you, Cas, he thought to himself. He remembered having seen Dean's heaven once, when Sam and Dean had been shot and died for a short period of time. It was with Sam on a crisp July evening, and Dean had set off fireworks for his little brother. Cas wouldn't normally tear up at that thought, but the fact that Sam wouldn't have Dean anymore made him feel deep empathy for his friend. Sam was Castiel's best friend (besides Dean), and he was the most trustworthy person Cas knew. He made a mental note to visit Sam as soon as he was finished looking for Dean.

However, when Cas reached Dean's heaven, it was empty— no, not empty; non-existent. Blank. Suddenly, Castiel filled with rage. Dean was a good man; he deserved to be in heaven. Why wasn't he here? If he had gone to Hell again, Cas would fly down there as fast as he could and pull him out. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Dean, and besides, he'd raised him from perdition before. Looking back on it, Cas remembered how grueling the task had been. No other angel had been willing to do it; they didn't think Dean fully deserved to be raised. Most of the angels disapproved of Dean's murderous ways and saw him as a hostile, broken man. But Cas knew he wasn't broken. Cas had seen Dean suffer in Hell. Every day, he'd watched him from heaven, looked on as he harmed other souls. While the other torturers' eyes glinted with pleasure, lust, greed, and delight at the pain they inflicted, Dean's always flickered with doubt. Cas might not have been good with words, but he could always tell what people were feeling. And Dean Winchester did not belong in that dark and lonely place, surrounded by suffering. If only Dean could remember the first time they met… Cas still remembered it vividly.

He'd been navigating the dim hallways of Hell for what seemed like months. Cas was trying to stay alert in case any demons (or Lucifer himself) found him, but with every step he took, he felt farther from Dean and closer to Death. But Castiel did not give up. He could not go on knowing Dean was sentenced to damnation for all eternity; he had to find him. Had to save him.

No matter how hard he tried, Castiel just couldn't see why Dean had to remain in Hell. The other angels said that Dean deserved his punishment because he'd made a demon deal, but Cas knew he'd made the deal for Sam, not for himself. He sold his soul so his brother could live. It was a sacrifice —a concept the bible praised with honor— and yet Cas' brethren were saying Dean deserved to rot in Hell. Well, Cas was determined to prove them wrong.

Castiel finally spotted Dean from afar. He was half-heartedly slicing the skin off a weary soul who'd been on the rack for what seemed like fifty years. Cas knew that the time in Hell was different from that in Heaven or on Earth, and when he looked at Dean, he knew that Dean had been in Hell for far longer than Cas had been searching for him. Cas could also see the toll it had taken on his conscious. With a single deep breath, Castiel braced himself for what he was about to do.

He strode towards the souls surrounding Dean and extended both of his arms in front of him. With one swift pushing motion, the souls were transported to a deeper section of Hell. Cas knew they didn't have much time. He turned around and was about to grab Dean, but Dean had a horrified look on his face and backed away.

"What kind of monster are you?" he asked suspiciously, with fear creeping into his voice.

"I am no monster, Dean Winchester. I am an angel of the Lord, and I have come to raise you from the pits of Hell."

"Are you… Are you my guardian angel?"

Cas smiled gently. "Something like that," he said. "Now, we have to hurry; the souls won't stay away for long." A loud ringing began to echo through the dim dungeons.

"What's that noise?!" Dean yelled

"It's my true voice— my vessel is weakening, we have to go," Cas reached out and gently tapped Dean's shoulder to imply that he was going to grab it. "It's going to burn because your soul is not pure! My grace must come into contact with your skin in order for it to work— I need you to remove your shirt!"

"We just met, you pervy freak! Whatever…" Dean removed his shirt and Cas tried not to be too distracted by his muscular build.

Souls began to rush towards them as black clouds of demon smoke started to manifest around their heads. Cas gripped Dean's shoulder as tight as he could. Dean screamed in pain and Cas did his best to block it out. He knew he was helping Dean; the pain would be gone soon. Dean would be okay. Cas extended his wings and began to fly upwards, leaving a trail of blue light behind that illuminated the halls of Hell with a holy aura, making demons and souls cower. Cas pulled in his wings to shield Dean, whose voice was now hoarse from shouting.

"Thank you… Whoever you are. I won't forget what you did," Dean said as his head dropped, cradled in the crook of Castiel's wing. "You have to promise me…" Dean said, drifting into unconsciousness.

"What? Promise you what, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice filled with urgency. In a broken voice, similar to that of an innocent child, Dean said,

"Don't leave. Never leave. The light you have makes everything better, makes everything go away and what I've seen and done down here, I—"

"I will never leave you, Dean Winchester. Ever." Cas still had his hand firmly on Dean's shoulder. As they neared the surface, Castiel fully embraced Dean with his wings.

"I'm coming, Sammy," Castiel heard Dean mumble as they raced towards his grave.

With a final flash of blue, Cas shot out of the ground, leaving Dean buried beneath it— but not for long. Cas knew that Dean wouldn't remember anything about him— he made sure to replace Dean's shirt and erase the memories he had of Cas. It was Heaven's orders. Cas wasn't allowed to interact too closely with humans and raising someone from perdition is a powerful bonding moment on a major celestial scale. But right then, Cas didn't care if Dean would forget all about him. He had promised Dean that he would never leave, and he would keep that promise— even if Dean wouldn't remember he'd ever requested such a thing.

Cas couldn't contain his joy any longer. He had lifted a righteous man from the amongst the doomed in the pits of Hell, and he wanted all of Heaven to hear it. "DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!" he shouted. It was so loud that the forest rang with angelic enochian frequencies and the trees fell around him.

Castiel had never left Dean, not really. But now, Dean had left him.

"Crowley, what the hell," Sam muttered under his breath. He'd been trying to summon Crowley for the past ten minutes, but Crowley just wasn't showing. "So help me, I will torture your ass into oblivion when I finally get my hands on you. You got Dean into this mess and you're going to get him out of it." Sam's voice was strained from holding back tears, but he drowned out the pain with alcohol, just like Dean always used to do. He had learned from the best. Sure, both Sam and Dean had had to deal with the loss of loved ones their entire life- their mom, their dad, Bobby, Kevin… but Dean, on top of all that, had to worry about Sammy. Most days, Sam didn't know how Dean managed to keep going. No matter what situation they faced, Dean would always reassure his little brother with his classic, wide smile and an "I'm fine, Sammy. Now whaddya say we go kill some evil sons-o-bitches?" or "C'mon Sammy, let's go gank some demons." Killing, drinking, or eating pie was always Dean's solution to any emotional trauma. Sam knew that it wasn't healthy or right. Often, he tried to get Dean to talk about how he felt and acknowledge the pain, just to get it over with, but he rarely gave in. In turn, Sam always acted upset, but one thing he would never tell another soul is that he liked it that way. Sam admired Dean's strong personality and he was thankful that he could always count on Dean to keep moving forward.

Well, he used to be able to count on Dean when he was… Sam, no. Stop thinking like that. Dean isn't dead- Crowley will fix this. It'll be fine. As Sam paced the halls of the bunker, he downed another shot of whiskey to suppress his swirling thoughts. After another five minutes passed with no sign of Crowley, Sam had an idea. If Crowley wouldn't answer him, he figured he'd try getting ahold of his good friend upstairs.

"Um… Hey, Cas. It's Sam. Listen, I think you better come down to the bunker. I- I know you might be busy with...like, holy stuff or whatever but I really need your help right now." When he'd concluded his prayer, Sam opened his eyes and looked around for Cas. Not to Sam's surprise, Castiel was nowhere to be found. Sam sighed deeply, "Let's try this again: Cas, it's Sam. Dean is in trouble and I need-"

"Sam, Sam I'm here. What is it?" Cas asked.

Ignoring the fact that Cas had only answered to his prayer when it involved Dean, Sam answered, "Cas… I have some news…"

"Dean is…" Cas trailed off; he couldn't bring himself to say that Dean was really gone. "Metatron told me. Sam, I am so sorry. I… I don't know what else to say..."

Sam couldn't hold back the tears that had been building inside him since he laid Dean's body down on his bed. "Cas, I've seen Dean die hundreds of times, and it hurts more every time. Whenever I think of him dying, I say to myself 'Maybe I'll be able to let go' 'Maybe this time it won't hurt as much'. But now, I just… I feel so done. Done with hunting, done with running, done with pain…"

"Sam, don't talk like that. You and your brother are all I have and everything I ever did was to protect you two! So please, Sam… don't give up now. Dean wouldn't want that."

"'I did everything to protect you two', 'Dean wouldn't want that'- You know what, Cas? Every time I pray to you, you never show up. But if I mention Dean one time, you fly your fluffy-winged ass down here faster than I can say 'amen'!"

"Sam, that is not true- I care for you and Dean equally. I pulled you both out of Hell and-"

"Cas, enough. You and I both know that you care for Dean more than you care for me. 'Profound bond'? I mean... everything you ever did was for Dean. You rebelled for him, fell for him, you even made yourself God to protect him!" Sam angrily ran his fingers through his hair and filled up his glass with more whiskey- emptying the bottle. He was extremely tipsy and Cas could tell he'd been drinking heavily long before he'd arrived.

"Sam, what are you trying to say?" Cas was thoroughly confused about the point of Sam's brief argument even though he knew there was some truth to Sam's words.

"All I'm tryin' to say, Cas…is that I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I'm scared that you're not gonna need me anymore because Dean's dead so you'll just leave! Then I'll have no one, Cas! Not a single damn person in my life worth livin' for."

Although Sam's words were slurred and influenced by copious amounts of alcohol, they tore at Cas' heart. Cas would never leave Sam. Never. Sam was Castiel's best friend; they'd been through countless hardships together. Cas still remembered pulling Sam out of Hell- and how he cried the entire time, unlike his brother, who had heroically cringed and gritted his teeth in pain and screamed through the agony. Sam had quietly accepted defeat. He knew he had been beaten, and he wasn't ashamed to cry about it. Cas admired that about Sam. He knew when it was time to quit- a quality Dean didn't possess. Through Cas' relationship with Sam, he learned what it meant to have a true friend who would always help you, always be there to comfort you. Cas would never leave that behind.

"Sam, I would never, ever leave you. You're my friend- we've been through so much together. I couldn't forget all of that simply because Dean isn't… here."

"What are you talking about, Cupid? I'm right here!"

Both Cas and Sam whipped their heads around at the sound of Dean's voice. He was standing in the doorway of the bunker. Alive. Sam sprung out of his chair so fast that it fell over and ran to hug Dean. It had become a routine, really- a family reunion after one of them dying in the other's arms. But Sam noticed that as each death got more painful, each hug felt warmer and safer than the last. Just as he was about to wrap his arms around Dean, Cas flung Sam aside.

"Don't touch him, Sam! It's- it's not Dean!"

"Cas, what the hell are you talking about? It's Dean! He's standing right there! Alive!"

"Yep- that's me! How's it goin', halo-head? Long time, no see! You take care of Metadouche yet? Oh, wait… I was supposed to take care of that dick, wasn't I? How'd I do? My memory's a little fuzzy, I just woke up…"

"You died," Sam and Cas replied in unison.

"Oh, did I? Huh, nothing new then. Hey, do we have any pie? Coming back to life can really work up an appetite."

Sam gave Cas a quizzical glance. This was Dean, but at the same time…it wasn't. Of course Dean had always been snarky and sarcastic, but never this insensitive. Plus, Sam felt like there was something Cas wasn't telling him.

"Hey, Dean are you… are you feeling okay?" Sam asked, getting a slice of pie from the kitchen.

"Like a million bucks," Dean replied.

Cas cleared his throat just before Dean took his first bite of pie. "Dean, could I uh… could I talk to you somewhere private?"

"Sure Cassie, whatever you say, dear," Dean said in a mocking tone.

"Oh my God. I swear those two are married, for crying out loud..." Cas heard Sam mutter from the kitchen. Cas blushed, but remembered why he had to talk to Dean and quickly composed himself. Dean entered his room and sat down on the bed where he had been lying lifeless only hours before. It was still splotched with dirt and blood.

"Dean, I know what you are. I can see your true form," Cas said, leaning against the wall across from Dean.

Dean got up from the bed and walked towards Cas. "I can see yours, too, pretty boy. You're awfully blue- may I suggest a lighter color? Maybe more of a...holy-light white? Blue is so last season, Cas."

"Dean. This is serious. Honestly, I don't think you know how serious. I know this is about the Mark of Cain. You realize you're not only a demon, but an extremely powerful demon? You're a Knight of Hell, Dean! How do you plan on fixing this?!"

Dean moved in closer to Castiel's face, staring directly into his eyes, "Who says I want to?" Dean's eyes flickered black and Cas flinched. He couldn't stand it. The eyes he knew so well, the bright green eyes that still glinted with hope, despite all they'd seen- had been replaced.

Dean walked out of the room and shouted something to Sam about pie that Cas couldn't quite make out. Cas couldn't move. He was consumed with despair; his heart felt like it was about to tear. In all of Cas' long life, he had never felt this hopeless. He would only say it to himself, but he loved Dean. And yes, in a different way than he loved Sam. Sam was like a brother to Cas but Dean… Dean was something more. But Cas knew demons couldn't have strong emotional attachments, only instinctive behaviors. Everything their relationship had meant was now lost. All those years they'd been friends, they'd confided in each other, they'd loved each other- it was all...forgotten. Cas couldn't bear it anymore. He sat down on Dean's bed and cried. Never in his entire celestial lifespan had Castiel shed a tear. He had gotten teary-eyed when he thought Dean was dead, but this was worse. This was much worse. Now, Dean was a big-wig downstairs and Cas was the head honcho upstairs. An angel and a demon. Cas knew they wouldn't be able to work together anymore- if Dean still wanted to work with him and Sam. Sam. What will Sam do when he finds out? Cas thought. Sam has been hunting demons all his life and now Dean…

"Hello, Darling." Castiel's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Crowley's voice. "Oh, there's no use in shedding tears over your boyfriend- he'll be fine."

Castiel was furious. He knew Crowley had placed the blade back in Dean's hands, which brought Dean back to life as a demon. It was Crowley who had persuaded Dean to accept the Mark in the first place. All of this was his fault. Cas lunged at Crowley and started hitting him.

"You-" thwack "Did this-" thump "To him!" Cas threw Crowley on the ground and kicked at his nose. Crowley shouted out in pain and Cas heard footsteps approaching.

Sam stood panting in the doorway with Dean behind him. "Cas, what's going on?" Sam's gaze fell to Crowley lying bloody on the floor. "I could've used you about two hours ago, you useless jerk."

"Good to see you too, Moose," Crowley replied. His voice sounded unusually nasal due to his broken nose.

"So, Cas. Why the sudden smackdown?" Dean asked walking towards Crowley.

"You know why, Dean. I think Sam deserves to know, too."

"Know what, Dean? Dean, what is it? Does this have to do with how you aren't… y'know, dead anymore?" Sam asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. You sure you're feeling okay? You've been on my case ever since I woke up. Like, jeez, gimme a break- a guy needs some space after something like that, y'know?" Dean began to walk towards the door, but halted abruptly. "What the- oh, this is freaking wonderful!" He looked down at his feet and saw that he was inside a demon trap.

"Dean, are you okay? What's wrong?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"Uh...yeah, Sammy I'm fine just um- I'm just gonna do some stretches. Yeah. I just… I'm feelin' a little sore after being… dead and all so I'm just gonna-" Dean stopped mid-sentence as he extended his arms upwards, pretending to stretch. He proceeded to reach down and touch his toes, and Sam's gaze followed him, landing on Dean's feet. He noted the demon trap and felt a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, Sam reached behind him and grabbed a flask from the shelf by the door. It was filled with holy water, and Sam subtly unscrewed the cap as Dean made small-talk with Cas.

Suddenly, Sam splashed the water onto Dean, who yelped when it burned his skin. "I DON'T BELIEVE THIS," Sam shouted and angrily threw the flask on the floor. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…" Sam continued to chant the exorcism, but it wasn't working. Crowley squirmed uncomfortably on the floor, clearly affected, but Dean wasn't phased. Sam turned towards Cas, his face full of fear. "Cas, what the hell is going on?"