A/N: So, episode 12x19… I was really digging the idea that the unborn nephilim wanted Cas to be its protector, until it mind-whammied him at the very end. And I know some people aren't convinced that's exactly what happened, but either way you spin it, the whole thing was squicky to me. So here's my attempt to deal with it.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Thank you Miyth for beta reading!

"The Choice"

It takes them a year to find Cas.

Not long after he and Kelly had taken off, things with the British Men of Letters had come to a head, which had diverted Dean and Sam from searching for their friend. That fight…that fight had nearly destroyed them.

Then on May 18th, the alarms in the bunker had gone crazy. Given Sam's earlier calculations and predictions, they'd had a good idea what it all meant.

They tracked the source of the phenomenon to Colorado, but by the time they got there, the only thing they found was a fresh grave and a cross made of branches, "Kelly" etched carefully into the wood. The area was dotted with bluebells and lavender, and Dean could almost imagine Cas picking out this spot and reverently laying the mother of Lucifer's child to rest here.

And then there'd been silence for a long while. Dean and Sam had searched and searched, and came up with nothing. If the nephilim was planning to destroy the world, it was taking its dear sweet time.

When there were no omens or disasters as when Lucifer had risen from the Cage the first time, Sam suggested they start looking for other kinds of signs.

And that's how finally, a year later, they find themselves in a small county in Idaho where stories of people being miraculously healed have slowly begun to filter out into surrounding communities.

"So," Sam says to the woman they are interviewing. "This faith healer is a kid?"

The woman nods. "He's such a sweet boy. Always polite. I had a brain tumor, and then he laid his hands on my head and…" She breaks into an awed smile. "My doctors can't believe it."

Dean fidgets, because from what they've gathered, the Devil's son isn't out wreaking havoc and destruction. But it had brainwashed Cas that night in the playground, Dean's sure of it. He just doesn't know what to make of…all this.

"His father is a nice man, too," the woman continues. "And so proud."

Dean's stomach curdles. "Yey high," he gestures, "dark hair, trench coat?"

"How'd you know?"

"We're old friends," Sam says quickly, and clears his throat in obvious discomfort. "We were really sad to hear about…the mom."

Sympathetic understanding fills her eyes. "Ah, I'd suspected she was gone. Dylan never talks about her, just gets sad when someone asks."

"Dylan is, uh, the boy?" Sam asks.

Now the woman squints at them. "Yes. I thought you were friends of the family?"

"He hadn't been born when we'd last seen Cas," Dean puts in hastily. He has no idea if the whole town has been mind-whammied into some kind of cult following, and doesn't want to arouse suspicions, not when they're finally so close.

She continues to eye them warily, but then her eyes widen a fraction. "Is that his name? Oh, I can't believe I never actually knew it. He just always dotes on Dylan, and what with the boy's gifts, that little angel gets all the attention." Her hand flutters over her hair in embarrassment.

Dean clenches his fist at "little angel" but manages to maintain the rest of his composure.

"Thanks for talking with us," Sam says with a strained smile, and then they're heading back to the Impala. They climb in, and Dean immediately pulls onto the road to take them into the woods. They've already sussed out that Cas and Baby Lucifer live in a cabin out there, isolated from everyone. Though they're not shy about coming into town to perform "miracles."

"Dean," Sam says carefully. "What's the plan?"

He tightens his hands around the steering wheel. "I don't know."

Get Cas back.

Right, how?

Tires crunch over gravel as they approach the cabin. Dean's nerves are a jittery mess because they have no way to combat something as powerful as a nephilim, and Dean's half afraid that Cas will just knock them out again and take off.

Or worse.

He eases the car to a stop, and his heart lodges in his throat because there's a little boy sitting on the ground outside, waving a glowing hand back and forth as he makes the grass around him sprout and dance with flowers like he's conducting an orchestra. He looks about five years old; apparently nephilim have accelerated growth in and out of the womb.

But standing a few feet away and watching the boy with open adoration, is Cas, looking just the same as a year ago, except there's no weight to his shoulders, no lines of defeat on his face. He looks…content.

It makes Dean's stomach churn.

Cas looks up as he and Sam slowly get out of the car. "Dean. Sam," he says in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Dean's throat grows tighter. "Really? That's how you greet your best friends after a year?"

Cas tilts his head a fraction. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to stay away so long. But Dylan needed me." His gaze slides back to the child, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Dylan, huh?" Dean manages. "You name him?"

"Yes. 'Dylan' means 'hope.'"

"Hope for what?" he can't help but say bitingly.

The boy stops playing with the flowers and looks up at them with a pinch between his brows. He has dark hair, like Kelly, and though Cas has apparently been parading around as his "dad," the kid doesn't look like Cas, which Dean is grateful for. He still doesn't know what he's doing here, just that he needs to get through to Cas somehow.

Cas's smile broadens. "A better world."

And Dean can't stop himself. "He's controlling you, Cas! Can't you see that?"

Cas just shakes his head in exasperation. "I wish you would understand, Dean. Dylan is doing good things; he's making the world a better place."

"Yeah, uh, we hear he's been healing people," Sam breaks in, taking the reins from Dean before he can lose his temper and escalate things beyond salvaging.

"Yes," Cas says, and there's a trace of pride and humility there.

"Castiel has been teaching me," the boy finally speaks, and Dean jolts, because now he has to shift from viewing this kid as a peripheral thing to be leery of, to evaluating him as an active threat.

Dylan gets to his feet and goes over to throw his arms around Cas's legs. Cas reaches an arm down to settle over the boy's shoulders.

"Cas, please, this isn't you," Dean pleads. "You have to fight it. We're family."

It's the argument they've always used, and yet this is the first time it feels hollow, because it's obvious that Cas no longer cares or wants them as his family. He has a new one. As fake and subversive as it is. And Dean doesn't know how to combat that.

"You call helping the world controlling people like this?" he directs at the kid with bitter accusation.

Dylan frowns. "I don't control people. Castiel's been teaching me to heal them."

"But you're controlling him."

"Please," Sam speaks up. "Just let him go."

Dylan shakes his head vehemently and clings tighter to Cas. "I need him."

"For what?" Sam presses.

"To teach me," Dylan answers. "My mother…she died." His already high voice cracks. "Who else is going to look after me?"

Dean…doesn't know what to say to that. He simply stares stupidly at this kid, clinging to Cas like he's some guardian angel, some protector. He thinks about Cas teaching this kid how to help people. If the nephilim were controlling Cas completely, he wouldn't be open to learning those things from the angel.

"You chose Cas," Dean finds himself saying. Before Dylan had even been born, he'd chosen Cas over Dagon. How? Why? Because he'd sensed something in Cas? The angel's goodness, strength, heart?

Dylan nods. "And I won't let you take him away. I love him."

"Dylan, it's alright," Cas says. "No one is going to make me leave you."

"No, because he's making you stay," Dean counters. "He's turned you into a friggin' Stepford wife!"

Sam clears his throat and jumps in. "You love Cas, okay. But…when you brainwash someone into loving you back, that's not real. Real love is a choice."

Dylan's brow puckers.

Dean grits his teeth and focuses on the kid, because that's who he needs to get through to here. If that's even possible. "Sam's right. He, Cas, and I have been through a lot together. We've even hurt each other. But no matter what crap we've gone through, no matter how badly each of us has screwed up or hurt the others, we always choose to come back, to stay. Because that's real family. This—" he gestures sharply at Cas, "—is a lie. Cas stays because you want him to, not because he loves you back."

Sam shoots him a warning glare, but Dean doesn't care. He's seen Cas mind-whammied before, forced to do things he didn't want. And while raising Lucifer's kid may not be as bad as what Naomi made him do, it's still enslavement.

"Don't listen to him, Dylan," Cas says in a long-suffering tone. "Dean doesn't understand the big picture here. It's a character flaw."

Dean doesn't have the capacity to be indignant at that, because nothing that comes out of Cas's mouth can be taken seriously at this point.

But Dylan is frowning up at the angel, and Dean has to hope that it's because the kid knows, deep down, that Cas is just placating him by programmed rote.

The boy takes a small step back, disengaging from Cas's embrace. "Free will," he says tentatively.

"Yeah," Dean replies. "That's something Cas has fought, bled, and died for. Multiple times! He wouldn't want…this."

Dylan sucks on his bottom lip. "Castiel talks about it a lot. When he tells me stories about you two."

Dean's brows shoot upward at that, because somehow in all this, Cas hasn't completely forgotten them. But he doesn't say anything, just holds his breath and waits as the little boy seems to be working out a great puzzle.

After a few moments, Dylan's expression falls. "But," he starts in a frail voice. "He…he would hate me. For what I did."

Dean exchanges a glance with his brother, because yeah, waking up to find you'd been brainwashed for the past year is not going to have good results. Especially toward the one who'd done the manipulating. And Cas had been through this kind of thing so many times before, that Dean suddenly wonders if this will break him.

"No," Dylan says, shaking his head. "No. I don't want to be alone."

Sam's throat bobs, and he lets out a tense breath. "It's true, Cas will probably be upset at first. But…but that doesn't mean he's going to abandon you."

Sam flicks an uncertain look at Dean, but Dean doesn't know what to think anymore, either. He wants Cas back. He wants to hate the nephilim that took him away for a year. But he also doesn't want to leave such a powerful being out in the world to fend for himself, because there were a lot of bad influences out there. He thinks maybe they should go back to their plan of removing the kid's grace, except the miracles he'd performed seemed real. How many more people could Dylan potentially help?

"You- you chose Cas because he's good," Sam continues. "Because he's capable of love and forgiveness. So maybe you have to give him the chance to actually be that." He hesitates. "And, uh, no matter what happens, you won't be alone. Okay? Me and Dean will make sure you're taken care of."

Dylan scuffs his shoe in the dirt, looking up at Cas with pained eyes. Cas, for his part, doesn't say a single word, as though Dylan has suspended his favorite puppet in time while they debated his fate. Dean hates it.

Please. Please, he prays, because he has no other recourse.

Dylan suddenly hangs his head, and Cas blinks.

Dean's heart seizes as Cas's brows furrow in confusion and he looks around. "Cas?"

Cas's eyelids flutter dazedly. "Dean? What…?" His gaze falls on Dylan, and for a moment no one moves or breathes. And then Cas's face slackens in horror.

He stumbles back a step, and Dean lunges forward to catch him as Cas sinks to his knees. Dylan lets out a choked sob, and then Sam, who's made of stronger stuff than Dean, is scooping the kid up into his arms and carrying him a short distance away.

"Cas, hey." Dean presses his hands against the sides of Cas's head and tries to get him to focus. "It's okay, you're okay."

Cas's chest hitches, his eyes wide and devastated. "Dean…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"This was not your fault," Dean says fervently.

"I left you," Cas chokes out. "Oh god, I left you and Sam at the playground…after everything, I left you again…"

Dean abruptly pulls Cas into a fierce embrace, cutting off the frantic rambling. "It's okay." He cups the back of Cas's head as Cas shudders in his arms. "It's okay. It's okay," he repeats, because he needs Cas to believe it, needs for this not to be something that shatters his best friend completely. "You're back," Dean whispers in his ear. "I got you."

He doesn't know how long he keeps up the mantra, alternating the phrases over and over until Cas's shaking gradually lessens. And then Cas just sags against Dean, who closes his eyes against a swell of grief. Free will comes with pain, that's the rub. It has to be worth it, though.

It has to be.

Dean is starting to lose feeling in his legs, bent as they are. He moves his hand down to rub Cas's back. "Cas, do you remember the past year?" he asks softly.

Cas nods against Dean's shoulder.

Dean tightens his grip for a moment. "Is Dylan really trying to be good?" he whispers. He feels Cas stiffen, can only imagine the loathing and disgust Cas must be feeling at having been so violated, but Cas doesn't respond right away. When he does, his voice is shaky.

"I- I don't know. Maybe." He finally lifts his head, eyes glistening. "I- Dean, I'm so sorry."

"I told you, man, it wasn't your fault."

Cas shakes his head. "I stole the Colt. I lied to you. I deserved far worse than this—"

Dean snaps and lashes out to grip Cas's arms forcefully. "Don't you ever think that, Cas. You didn't deserve this. Nothing you do would ever make you deserve something like this. I get it, okay? I get that you were desperate for a win. I've been there. Want a rerun of the Mark of Cain? But I forgive you. Me and Sam forgive you, and the only thing we care about now is getting you home safe."

Cas swallows hard and ducks his gaze for a moment, but then he looks up again and starts to compose himself. Because one thing that Cas has always known how to do is soldier on. He nods.

Dean's chest tightens, and he glances over his shoulder at Sam and Dylan a few yards away. They likely heard all that. And Dean knows what they need to talk about next, even though he'd rather bundle Cas up in the back of the Impala and hightail it out of there.

Instead he forces himself to let out a breath. "Okay. Okay." He shifts slightly to allow circulation back into his legs. "Can you get up?"

Cas wordlessly lets Dean help pull him to his feet. He can't seem to bring himself to look at Dylan. The kid's eyes are wet, Dean's surprised to note.

Dean clears his throat. "Dylan, you got something you want to say to Cas?" He can't believe he's doing this.

Dylan's lip trembles. "I'm sorry."

Cas flinches, but flicks a tense glance toward the kid. His jaw is tight, shoulders rigid.

"Sorry for what?" Sam prompts, and he, too, throws a bewildered look at Dean, because neither of them had expected to come out here for this.

"I'm…sorry I made you stay," Dylan says in a small voice. "When I first felt your grace touch mine, I knew you were the one who could take care of me. And that's the only thing I knew at the time." He gulps. "I see now that it was wrong. Please, please don't hate me, Castiel."

Dean watches Cas carefully, and for several long moments, the angel doesn't say anything. Cas said he remembers the past year, and Dean wonders how much of it was good. It certainly sounds like it was, for the most part.

Cas swallows hard. "I- I don't hate you," he says, but the words sound brittle.

Dylan, however, lights up ever so slightly and starts forward. Cas flinches again, and Dean reaches out to grasp his elbow reassuringly.

"Okay, okay, buddy." He turns to Dylan. "Why don't we take things slow?" he suggests. "You got any food in the cabin?"

Dylan looks disappointed, and shakes his head. "I don't eat."

Of course not.

"Okay, um…" Dean doesn't know who should go for food and who should stay with the rugrat. He's not certain he fully trusts the kid not to mind whammy Cas again, or anyone else, for that matter. "Maybe we can get a pizza delivered out here. Just because you don't eat doesn't mean you can't enjoy food, right?"

Dylan cants his head, and some of his despondency starts to dissipate. "Mhm, okay!"

"Okay." Dean gives Sam a meaningful look, and his brother subtly nods in return.

"Um, Dylan, can you show me around inside? It looks like a nice place to live."

Dylan's mouth turns down and he glances at Cas.

"Let's just give Cas some air," Sam quickly adds. "He and Dean aren't going anywhere."

Sam takes the kid inside, and Cas starts to curl in on himself again. With a gentle hand on his elbow, Dean guides him to a pair of rickety, wooden lawn chairs set outside the cabin. Cas practically stumbles into one, face drawn and pale, eyes haunted. Dean takes the seat next to him and doesn't speak for several long minutes, just listens to Cas fight to get his rattling breathing under control.

"An entire year," Cas gasps, on the verge of a strangled sob.

"Yeah," Dean murmurs. "He- he didn't hurt you, did he? I mean, aside from the…"

Cas shakes his head and says quietly, "No. He never hurt me."

Dean thinks physical pain would have been easier for Cas to take.

"What now?" Cas asks hoarsely.

Dean's not sure. "What do you want to do?"

Cas's expression turns pained. "I- I don't know."

He's had his free will stripped for the past year; it must be hard to suddenly have agency again.

Dean clears his throat awkwardly. "That kid, uh, Dylan, seems attached to you. And he seems…I don't know, was his apology genuine?"

Cas's brows knit together, and his hands clench and unclench in his lap. "Yes," he whispers, albeit tentatively.

Okay, so the kid has a moral compass, it looks like. He realized he was wrong and proceeded to fix it by letting Cas go. That has to count for something.

"So you've been a good teacher," Dean says.

Cas's pensive frown has turned thoughtful. "I…maybe." He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back. "Dean, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to go forward? This…" He looks down at himself with disgust. "I heard you, I heard you say how I've always fought for free will. Yet I've never had it. Is this all I really am? Putty to be shaped to someone else's will?"

Dean leans forward and clasps his forearm. "No," he says gruffly, firmly. "No. You do have free will, Cas. Even when someone else tried to take control, you were still in there. You fought. And here, you chose to teach Dylan how to help people. That was all you, not him."

Cas still doesn't look convinced.

Dean swallows. "And…and you have a choice now. To continue teaching this kid, raising him. Or not. And whatever you decide, Cas, me and Sam will back you."

Cas jerks his head up in surprise. "You would care for Lucifer's offspring?"

"If you truly believe that kid is good, then yes," Dean replies without hesitation, even though he's not sure it's the right thing to do. "We can all go back to the bunker. But if you need time, Cas, me and Sam will find another place for him, a foster family or something."

It'd have to be someone who knew about the supernatural, someone who could handle something as powerful as a nephilim…which, shit, does not leave a lot of options.

Cas must realize this, too, because his expression pinches. "I…I don't think there's anyone else."

No. No, there probably isn't.

"Are you up for it?" Dean asks, nodding toward the cabin door.

A muscle in Cas's jaw jerks and he sucks in a harsh breath. "I…I'm willing to try," he finally says hesitantly, but with a tenor of that staunch resolve Dean is used to hearing in his friend, and it gives him hope.

Dean knows it won't be easy. But then, neither was the past eight years. They still somehow all came through it, though, and cemented their family unit. Because it starts with a choice. A choice to stand firm, to fight, to try.

And from there…well, they'll see how it goes.