*Disclaimer*, I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters, nor to I claim ownership. I'm just a fan.

Prologue

Castiel glanced at Dean as he returned alone, without… well, Dean. Past Dean, that is. He blinked and tilted his head, but didn't ask anything. Dean still seemed compelled to answer. "He wasn't going to go through with it, I had to knock him out before he put the entire mission at risk" he said, though he wouldn't look Castiel in the eyes. Castiel blinked slowly, trying to focus through the fresh dose of amphetamines he'd chugged the night before, and the absinthe he'd taken only two hours before that, but again, said nothing. He just tightened his grip on his gun, the only weapon he had now. He knew he couldn't do anything without it. Heck, he could do little with it. He wasn't the best with a gun. He was, actually one of the worst who was still good enough to be taken out on missions.

Castiel hadn't been lying to Dean when he told him of how useless he was. He knew just how useless he was. He'd been brought on every mission back when he still had his powers. He'd noticed their dwindling, but hadn't mentioned it to anyone, especially not Dean, though it wasn't as if he hadn't taken notice. Dean just didn't know the extent of his continued failure. His wings were beginning to feel limp, and heavy. Though they were made of pure white light and energy, like the rest of his grace, Castiel could feel them droop, at times it even felt as if he were dragging them. It wasn't like his grace was just gone either, he still had enough to keep him from becoming full human, he had still recognized Past Dean as Past Dean. He could sometimes still feel it inside him, flicking and dancing, like a flame at the end of a near burned-out candle. It was one of the reasons he drowned himself in drugs, being able to feel it, to know how pathetically weak and dim it was, it may very well be worse than not having it there at all. They'd been out on a mission, a hot zone, full of Crotes, and Castiel's mojo had just dropped. He'd been scouting ahead when his wings went limp, it felt a bit like they had shriveled up, like the dimming light which made them suddenly flickered, sputtered, and gave out just as Cas was returning to report back to Dean. He'd fallen on the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't feel them… He Couldn't Feel Them! They were gone! His wings…. Castiel stayed on the ground, the shock to great. He was only brought back from his pit of despair when he heard the Crotes coming, many of them. He had to warn Dean! They were coming, they'd been spotted! He stood up, stumbling a bit from the unnatural sensation of being wingless, and began to run. "Dean!" he shouting, rounding a corner. "Cas?" came the reply from Dean, who stood yards away. "They're coming!" Castiel shouted, still running forward, his eyes widening as he spotted six Crotes, all eyeing Dean. "Dean!" he shouted a warning. Dean whirled around and unloaded his gun on the Crotes, but this was a hot zone, that meant more were on their way, if they weren't already here.

They were here. Two Crotes rushed at Dean from their hiding place inside a broken shell of a building. Castiel tackled them, ramming them with his own body; Dean was busy with the four other Crotes which had appeared. Castiel was slammed to the ground, gasping as the breath was knocked out of him. He still wasn't used to that feeling, it had come only recently, and he'd only had his breath knocked out one time before. The Crotes screamed in his face, Castiel tried to shove them off, but his angelic super-strength had long dwindled down to 'just barely above normal human strength' he was no match for two raging Crotes. He kicked one off, then shoved the other one off. They grabbed onto his trench coat and dragged him down again, roughly, his cheek and temple smacking again the cement. There was broken glass everywhere, his face had been lucky to miss most of it, his knees and hands, however, not so much. He grunted, turning over onto his back and kicking the Crote in the face. Its grip slackened, and he managed to pull away just in time to see they were now surrounded by ten more Crotes. Even he knew that Dean's ammunition wasn't infinite, sooner or later he'd run out. Dean was whirling around, trying to see everything at once, trying to keep all their enemies in sight. He had two guns, one in each hand, the barrel aiming in a different direction ever second as he waited for a clear shot.

Three Crotes rushed forward, Dean putting them down with only two bullets. The only problem was that two other Crotes also rushed him from behind. Dean managed to take one down, but the other tackled him; Dean lost one of his guns, it slid from his grasp as his hand smacked against the cement. Ever quick on his feet, Dean still managed to put a bullet in the Crotes' mouth. Castiel was already by his side, "Cas, zap us out of here" Dean said, reaching for his other gun. Castiel's eyes got very big, "Dean I… I ca- look out!" Castiel's confession turned into a warning as the rest of the Crotes rushed forward, all at the same time. Castiel put himself between Dean and the largest group, he tried to extend his wings as well, an invisible barrier between his friend and the enemy, but of course, he ended up just feeling at empty space. Three Crotes tackled him, in a very unususall way. Castiel's foot was twisted beneath him as he fell; he heard a snap, followed immediately by a series of cracks and pops. Castiel's eyes widened and he let out a scream of pain. His foot was on fire! "Cas? Cas!" Dean's worried shout reached Castiel's ears. The Crotes dragged him forward a bit, causing his foot to move; Castiel grimaced and let out another cry of pain. He'd never felt anything like this, this was very real, this was sharp, this burned. Even when Raphael had caused Castiel to explode, there had been no real pain, not as humans experienced it. Castiel was staring up at the Crotes face when half of it was blown off. Many shots rang out, more than what could have come from Dean's weapons. Castiel looked up as the Calvary arrived, five other survivors quickly unloading their weapons on the Crotes. Dean straightened up as the last Crote was shot down.

"Come on, get up, you're okay" Dean said, stretching out his hand to Castiel. Castiel had took it and Dean began to pull him to his feet. Castiel's right foot moved, brushing along the ground, and Castiel grimaced, falling back onto the ground. "Cas? Cas!" Dean said, getting down on one knee, gripping Castiel's shoulders to steady him, and inspecting his friend for injury. "Cas, what's wrong?" he asked, not finding anything expect for minor cuts and bruises. "My… my foot hurts Dean" Castiel managed to get out. "It hurts a lot." Dean looked at Castiel, then at the awkward position his leg was it. He reached out and gently gripped Castiel's shoe, causing Cas to wince. Dean's eyes widened, "I think it's broken" he said, looking back at Castiel's face, as if he couldn't believe he'd just broken his foot. "Come on, let's get back to camp" he said. Castiel looked up at him, "I, I can't move, Dean" he responded. Dean blinked, surprised. "Okay… just… zap us back" he said, as if it were obvious. "I don't have-" Castiel said, though he was unable to finish the sentence. He couldn't not have wings, it wasn't possible, it wasn't natural. "I can't zap anywhere Dean" was all he said instead, his eyes looking very sad as he gazed up at Dean. Dean seemed to ponder this, before nodding to himself. He bent down, placed his right shoulder underneath Castiel's right arm and hoisted him over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Castiel's legs, grinding his teeth when he felt Castiel's body go ridge as the moment caused pain to shoot up and down his foot. "Dean, this is, demeaning" Castiel said, lifting his head up slightly, he didn't like having it plastered to Dean's back. "We'll, I'm not caring you princess-style, this is more efficient, I'm allowed more maneuverability, my hands are free to hold onto my weapons" Dean said, beginning to walk forward.

"Everyone's weapons checked? Good? Okay, let's go" Dean said. Castiel blinked, returning to the present, his eyes never left his friend's, he knew something was wrong, stoned as he was, and he was really stoned, he knew something was wrong, but he didn't argue. He trusted Dean. Dean was his best friend. He glanced back down at his gun, remembering how Dean had carried him all the way to camp, taken off his shoe, and confirmed that it was indeed broken.

Castiel pressed his lips together, refusing to let out another cry of pain as Dean fixed his foot. He had no idea what he was doing, but his foot didn't feel fixed… He tightened his grip on the bed, knuckles turning white. Dean seemed to notice this; his own teeth were grinding against each other. Castiel didn't understand why Dean looked as if he were the one who was in pain. "I'm sorry Cas" he said, continuing to bandage his broken foot. Castiel pressed his lips together, "For what?" he asked. It wasn't Dean who was useless, it wasn't Dean who had burden Dean because he had to carry be carried all the way back to camp; it wasn't Dean who'd just lost his wings, rendering him about as useful as a stone. Dean didn't answer, he just straightened up when he was done and walked out, mumbling a barely coherent "I'll be back" before shutting the door behind him. Castiel was left to stare at wall, trying to lose himself, as the pain wouldn't go away. He was pretty sure Dean felt responsible for, well, everything. He blamed himself for the state the world was in, he blamed himself for all the people he lost, he blamed himself for what had happened to Sam, and he blamed himself for what had happened to Castiel. He wasn't sure, but he had suspicions that Dean had guessed why Castiel's powers were just getting weaker and weaker. Dean knew Castiel hadn't had his full powers, such as healing or killing demons, when he was cast out of Heaven. Had he guessed that when the angels left Castiel's own grace had withered?

Dean returned, not having been gone long, and tossed Castiel a small orange tube with a white cap. "Take those" he said, coming to sit beside him. Castiel squinted at the bottle, and the little pills inside, before dropping them back on the bed, "I will not take those" he said, glaring at the wall beside him. He was still an angel, wings or no wings. "Cas" Dean said, in his, 'I know better, I'm right, you better do as I say' voice. Castiel shook his head, "No, Dean. I do not take pills" he said, turning his eyes on Dean, allowing him to see the hurt there. He was still an angel, angels didn't take pills, humans did. Dean's eyes softened, understanding Castiel's pain, or at least being able to guess what was causing it. "Look man, you either take these, or you remain in pain, it's not going to go away, and if you so much as twitch your leg or cause your foot to be moved, the pain will knife right into you" he said. He picked up the pilled and handed them to Castiel again. "Come on, it'll make you feel better" he said, clasping his hand on his shoulder before leaving. Dean did, after all, have an entire camp of survivors to look after. Castiel looked at the bottle for a moment, then opened it and chugged a few down.

Cas felt… good. He did, he felt good. Cas, "My name is Castiel" he said, staring at the wall. The pain was… was… gone. A lot of things were gone, like his wings…. "My wings are not coming back" he said, staring at the near empty bottle of pills. "Doesn't matter, cuz I got this" he said, holding his bottle up. The pills did make him feel better, Castiel realized, Dean was right, again. They made him feel very little, which in turn, made him happy, or at least blissfully ignorant. When he took pills, it took away a bit of his pain. He momentarily forgot about the emptiness behind his back, or his uselessness. He didn't think. He finished his first bottle, and asked Dean for another one sometime around his first month of being bed-ridden. Dean had seemed reluctant to give it to him, so Castiel used this one with moderation, wanting it to last until he was able to get one himself. This was how Castiel figured out how to take just enough pills to make him feel better, but not enough to leave him a drooling mess, giggling at everything and staring at talking walls.

Castiel was better in two months, as soon as he was able to walk around Dean took him out for target practice. He seemed hell bent on teaching Castiel how to hold, reload, aim, and shoot. Basically it was Gun101. He threated to throw away Castiel's pills at one point, when he found them in his pocket. "What's this?" he'd asked, waving the pills in the air. "Concentration medication" Castiel replied, snatching the pills back, a slight smirk on his face. He had then turned around and delivered three shots, each hitting the target. Smiling at his own luck, he'd walked away, his hand in the pocket that contained his pills. "Hey, Cas?" Dean called after him. "Your coat isn't that bad off, you could still wear it" he said. Castiel stopped, his trench coat, the thing he had worn since he first came to earth, into his vessel, Jimmy. It was what Castiel the angel wore, not Castiel the mortal. Useless mortal. It wasn't a part of him anymore... "I don't need it anymore" he said, taking a deep breath, before walking off again.

Castiel stood up and followed the others as they head for the second story window, just as Dean had instructed. Dean gave each man, and woman, a pat on the back as they passed by him. Castiel thought about what had brought them here, the colt. He remembered their early conversation. This plan was still suicidal, but his answer would never change. He smiled a bit as he remembered the look or irritation and betrayal Dean had given him when it had seemed Castiel was siding with Past Dean. It was a bit funny, and confusing, since, technically, Castiel was still siding with Dean. Of course he would follow Dean to the end, because he trusted him, because he was his friend, laughing at Past Dean's comment didn't change that.

Dean had found the colt, and they were doing to use it to kill Lucifer, one of Castiel's strongest siblings, second only to Michael himself. When Castiel walked by Dean, Dean gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Castiel looked at him, confused. Dean eyes looked, weird. He seemed almost remorseful, saddened. He tightened his grip on his shoulder, probably the closest he got to a hug nowadays, and then let go. "Go get 'em" he said, patting Castiel on the back as well, his lip trembled, ever so slightly. Castiel stared at him, receiving a light shove in the direction of the others. He nodded, and walked a bit faster to catch up to everyone else, eyeing the seemingly abandoned building.

(Excuses, Excuses... I'm not to happy with this chapter, or, not happy at all, BUT, it's okay, cause I have an excuse for it's rushed suckiness. This story was supposed to start at chapter 1, then I found myself writing a prologue...a totally unplanned prologue...)