Author's Note: End!verse. This is an elaboration of a headcanon of mine. You will find a graceless and hopeless Castiel unites with Dean, abhorrent of himself on a whole new level, on a journey to kill the devil. The two realize they have more in common than just their daddy issues and learn that love can be broken but not eradicated.

Warnings: This is a tragedy; it won't end in fluff. Well, maybe it will, but even if it does, it'll be painful getting there. I haven't completely decided on the necessity of sex scenes. We'll see how it goes. If you are good at writing smut and want to be my co-conspirator, you may send me a PM.

Disclaimer: Most of my characters belong to the CW and the writers of Supernatural

It was the eighth time Dean said no to Michael that heaven finally gave up. Angels, who knew we'd turn out to be so spineless? Castiel remembers that day too clearly. He remembers it because that was the day he died.

The day the angels fled. They fled to the far reaches of Heaven, unreachable even by the most powerful demons of Hell. There they stayed finally content in their decision. The decision was this: let the humans die, let Lucifer have Earth, and let the righteous be damned with the rest. There was only one angel that did not concede.

That was the day Castiel was cut off from Heaven. It was the last day Castiel saw his family, and the last day he ever would.

The bond of brotherhood between angels is profound and breaking that bond rips a young angel apart. It's not always evident to humans the love that angels share, but it is always present and entirely consuming. It's the type of love that demands loyalty and respect, but it is also the type of love that one would die for. Castiel would lay down his life a thousand times over to save his brothers. He would do it without question or hesitation. There is no parallel to such a love found on earth, well, not really. There is one case that comes extremely close.

Sam and Dean Winchester, brothers for all eternity, had a special place in Heaven reserved for them. This place they would have been allowed to share, something that doesn't happen often in the heavenly realm.

Sam and Dean Winchester are the wayward sons of the universe, battling evil to the depths of Hell, literally.

So, on that unforgettable day, the eighth call of Michael, Dean said no… and Sam said yes… and Castiel's connection with Heaven was torn from his grace, leaving his spirit mangled and hopeless.

Dean ducked behind an abandoned minivan as a young boy feasted on his navigator. Peeking around the useless hunk of metal he caught a glimpse of Harry's intestines being pulled out in long, dripping strings. The child, ugh no, the abomination was playing with Harry like it was Christmas day and he was a brand new batch of play dough. Dean resisted the urge to wretch or to make any other noise as the croatoan virus infected toddler smashed his friend's lungs and intestines into a nice little cocktail on the pavement.

Dean felt bad for the guy whose wife and baby girl were found yesterday in St. Louis holed up in food pantry for the homeless. He didn't think about that now, though, he had to go.

Dean made a break for a building to his left on the far side of the street. Two more of the infected caught sight of him as they were carrying an old woman's mangled body from the alleyway. That's the thing about these monsters; they're not great with the reaction time. They're always so dramatic.

So while the mutated people began to move, pretty fast once they get started, Dean was already at the door. He pulled down the iron security gate and locked it with ease.

Not wasting a second, Dean spun around to survey the place. There were isles. Of food. Thank God, Dean thought and immediately discounted. God had nothing to do with this. Nevertheless, he was grateful he had successfully identified this ambiguous building as a convenient store.

After a quick run through of the place, Dean decided it was monster free and began shoveling the entire canned food section into a large duffle he carted with him. When the last can of tuna was safely secured and nothing else would fit, he swung the bag over his shoulder.

It should be enough to keep his crew of eight alive for the next couple of weeks. They had been traveling the country for the past three months, scouring the shadows of the cities for survivors. They'd lost a few key members but had gained a few too. Rachel, for example, the baby girl, was so innocent. It was a miracle that our band of six hunters found her and her mother. They would be the safest with us.

It was a smashing of a bottle a couple of isles over that brought out Dean's gun, usually holstered tightly to his thigh. He set down the bag silently and made is way over to the refrigerated section, the embodiment of stealth. He peeked around a bag of Funyuns and was surprised to see no one standing there, just a broken bottle of Jack.

A small squeak, from above, alerted Dean to the presence of another. Instinct kicked in and Dean shot at the figure without really even seeing it. A mess of tan fabric fell from the ceiling with a thud.

"Ungh," it groaned and rolled over slowly, revealing his face.

"Oh my God," Dean breathed.

"Surprised you're still saying things like that, Dean," Castiel laughed and then hissed clutching his wounded thigh.

"Shit, Cas! Move! Let me see it."

Dean moved quickly bandaging Cas's wound because that's how wounds had to be handled in times like these. He ripped Cas's pant leg off just above the wound and his fingers dived in without warning. His other hand gripped Cas's shoulder so he wouldn't be able to fight him off.

Cas screamed.

The shock of the initial pain allowed Dean to grip the bullet and yank it out without much argument. He grabbed the shattered bottle to his left, which still contained enough alcohol to clean the wound. He then used the gauze from his duffle to bandage Cas's leg.

Cas just looked at Dean and panted, tears in his eyes.

"Sorry, dude, I just wanted to get it done quickly. We don't got a lot of time for bedside manner these days," Dean apologized.

"Yeah," Cas gasped. "It was just shocking mostly. Thanks." Cas relaxed some then and tried to stand up.

Cas hissed in pain and Dean grabbed his arm and pulled it over his shoulder, supporting Cas like a crutch. They found an umbrella a few isles over that Cas could use as a cane. Dean picked up his bag of food once more, motioning for Cas to follow him.

"Dean…" Cas started, but Dean cut him off.

"We'll talk more when we get back to camp," he said dismissively, and Cas frowned.

"It's good to see you alive though," Dean said with a wink, and they made their way out the back door.

Dean was surprised at his own display of playfulness. It was hardly the time.

Cas smiled to himself.

Dean was greeted with warm welcomes back at camp. From everyone but Jerry that is.

"Who the fuck is that? You brought another stray home? Did you even check him for the infection?! Why the fuck is he limping? If he's bitten I'm gonna…" Jerry spewed.

"Calm down, Jer. Goddamnit he's a fucking angel," Dean explained, grabbing the barrel of Jerry's gun, which was trained on Cas's face.

"Yes. I assure you, I'm immune to such a virus, perks of being a feather head," Cas slurred tiredly. "…well a former one."

Dean realized then that Cas's slurring may not be from his injuries alone. He remembered the broken bottle of Jack and realized that Cas was druck off his ass.

"Come on Cas, let's go see Doc." Dean supported a now almost unconscious Cas and led him over to Margarie aka Doc.

"Let me take a look at him…" she crooned as she surveyed the damage to Cas's leg. "Mmm, picked us up a pretty one didn't you? What happened to him?"

"I shot him," Dean said, matter of factly… "It was an accident," he added when he saw the disapproving look Doc was giving him.

"Ah, well, it looks like you did a pretty good job here. He just needs to sleep it off. He'll be bunking with you tonight. The others will throw a fit if you try to pawn him off on them," she scolded.

"Don't worry, Doc. I can handle one sorry fallen angel…" Dean realized what he had said moments after and Marge just shook her head sadly. "Well I'm gonna get him to bed…"

"Sleep tight, hun, and don't keep that beautiful boy from us too long," Doc winked.

Dean skulked off dragging Cas with him. The war with Lucifer wasn't going well, to say the least. Dean actually couldn't handle one lousy angel. Who was he kidding? He couldn't even handle his own baby brother, and he definitely couldn't handle himself now that he was mostly alone. It was true that Dean had made friends among his crew, but it wasn't the same thing as family. Family was a crucial ingredient to the Winchester cocktail.

Dean adjusted Cas on his shoulder and hauled him into the building they were staying in for the night. This fallen angel may be the only family he has left in this world. It seemed unreal that Dean should find him; he almost didn't believe it.

Cas grew suddenly heavier and Dean realized the drunken angel had finally passed out.

"Where the hell have you been, Cas?" Dean smiled, if you could call it that. The action seemed so foreign to his face. However, Cas was here.

Now, he didn't have to go it alone.

Hours later Dean woke in a damp room of the abandoned warehouse. He had two sleeping bags arranged in the far corner and several booby traps at the door. It wasn't the booby traps that woke him, though, it was Cas.

"Hey," he nudged Cas with his boot. "How's the leg?"

"It feels like I just got shot. Did I just get shot?" Cas sits up slowly, trying not to jostle his leg and failing.

"Um, yeah, you were pretty wasted weren't you? I didn't even notice at first, but I guess it was all kind of a lot to take in…" Dean had to bite his lip to stop the babbling. He looked at Cas, really looked at him for the first time that night.

Cas's eyes were ringed red with popped blood vessels crawling towards his pupils. His face looked hallow and his eyes dead. He definitely hadn't been eating well, which was strange considering where Dean found him. Strange but not, such was the way of an apocalyptic world. What was really weird was that Cas was here at all.

"Cas," Dean started, "why are you even here? I thought all the angels left. Michael said I wouldn't see another angel on Earth… like ever. How did you get here?"

Cas rubbed his face and took a deep shaky breath.

"I got here the same way I always have, it's the leaving I've been having trouble with," he answered without looking up.

"I've been abandoned by my brothers and by heaven. You've been abandoned too, along with all of this," Cas waved his hand around. "Earth, the human race," he answered the confusion in Dean's eyes.

Dean sighed.

Of course those little shits abandoned him, whatever, Dean was used to it. Everything you love leaves, or dies, or gets turned into a mindless killing machine. That was the official motto of Team Apocalypse. But abandoning Cas? What had Cas ever done to them? Besides befriending Dean, Cas had been a loyal servant to heaven and to the humans the angels swore to protect.

"They abandoned you? They just left you here? Those little fuckers…" Dean said to Cas, picking up the beer next to his sleeping bag and taking a swig.

Cas was silent.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean asked.

Cas just stared back at him with those empty, lifeless eyes. Those eyes, that used to shine electric blue as he fought against evil, side by side with Dean. Those eyes would melt when Dean made him laugh. Those eyes would stare at everything he saw so quizzically as Cas tried to discern the meaning of every insignificant detail.

Even though they were empty, the eyes seemed to be trying to tell Dean something. Well, maybe not Dean, it seemed like a general message. He looked into the seemingly greyer blue eyes and all he could see was a broken man begging.

Please, please, please… please. Please! Please. Please. Please…

"Am I okay?" Cas actually laughed at this, and Dean's eyes met his again hoping to see a change there, but the laugh was completely detached from its owner. "Dean, don't ask stupid questions."

Cas slumped back down into his sleeping bag and turned away from Dean. "I was abandoned, Dean. Left for dead, left forever, I will never see my family again. Why the fuck would I be okay?"

Dean just stared at his back for a while, silently contemplating his friend's painful words. He'd never heard Cas curse before, and he wondered where he even picked it up. Probably from him actually.

Dean thought about how Cas must be feeling he understood all too well how it felt to be abandoned by family. He thought about Cas's situation and realized it was exactly like his own. Both were abandoned and fighting for lives that they don't really want. Both had to face an impending threat in the form of the only family either one of them had left.

The difference was Cas was giving up. Here Dean was fighting every single day when he wanted nothing more than to slit his wrists, and Cas was giving the fuck up.

"Castiel," he growled. "You motherfucking cunt, if you don't snap out of this and stop feeling sorry for yourself, I'm going to put a bullet in my brain."

Cas turned around and stared in confusion at Dean. It was almost quizzical... in Dean's eyes.

"I swear on the Impala, if you give up, then I have absolutely no chance in this war, and I will put a bullet in both of our skulls," Dean seethed.

"Dean…" tears were leaking out of Cas's eyes now.

"It's you and me now, okay? You and me versus the world, we are going to make it out of this. Do you hear me?" Dean almost shouted, fire in his eyes.

Castiel just stared at this man who was the most passionate man he had ever known, even when facing the end of the world at the hands of a man who wore his brother's face.

He cried because he was ashamed. He cried because he didn't deserve to be brought back from the edge by this man, this man above all others in Castiel's eyes.

"Fine."

Cas's response was short and he immediately turned around to face the wall… but in that single syllable Dean saw the tiniest hint of a warrior's spark in those dazzling blue eyes.