Spoilers: Events in this story reference events, cases, monsters, demons, and characters from all episodes of Supernatural canon from 01x01 Pilot through 08x20 Pac-Man Fever.

Author's note: This Supernatural Epic fic comes from three of my existing Supernatural series, which stand as fanfic version of seasons 8, 9, and 10 that are canon-divergent after the episode 08x20 Pac-Man Fever. The current series stands at 32 Episodes with 165 Chapters and approximately 300,000 words.

This epic follows the same case!Fic and plot as the episodic series I wrote, but it has been adapted into a new format and edited to be rated M or lower. Since removing the adult content from the series, I thought adapting elements of the story would be an interesting challenge. Rather than posting a series of shorter episodes, the story will be a single, epic Supernatural fanfic.

Relationships: Destiel (Dean/Castiel relationship) and Sam/OFC

Warning: While the explicit adult content has been removed during the adaptation of this story, it still contains canon-level violence and strong elements of terror, horror, and fantasy.

THEN

The Winchesters completed the First Trial, saving Ellie from a Hellhound, as well as the Second Trial, rescuing Bobby's soul from Hell.

Naomi forced Castiel to obtain the Angel Tablets by any means necessary, but once he touched it, he became free of her influence and fled everyone, including Sam and Dean.

Kevin, fearful that Crowley had somehow gotten inside his head, fled the safe house, and Charlie assisted the Winchesters on a case as Sam's condition worsened.

NOW
Part One
Trials of Hell and Heart

Chapter One
Deep in the Hole with Shackles

"What broke the connection?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now," Cas replied as he gripped the Angel Tablet tighter.

"From Naomi?"

"Yes," the angel replied. Castiel looked into Dean's eyes. He wanted to escape with the hunter, to take cover with the Winchesters, but -

"And from you," Cas said to Dean.

"From me? What do you mean?" Dean asked as Cas teleported. Dean kept speaking. "Cas? Cas! Damn it!"

Cas, I don't know what the hell is going on or what you meant, but you better get your feathery ass down here! We can help you protect the tablet, we've got a place to hide it. Damn it, Cas! You gotta trust me, you bastard!

Castiel heard Dean's prayer as he finalized a secondary safe house in Vancouver, Canada.

He wanted to call Dean and explain himself, but he couldn't risk it. A combination of luck and Naomi's pride enabled his initial escape. Having never lost an angel she had ensnared, Naomi had no reason for contingency. By the time she marshaled a search, Castiel had boarded a bus to San Francisco, where he set up his first safe house.

Castiel had been on Earth longer and had spent more time with humans than any other angel. No amount of cutting or zapping could obliterate that kind of experience. Unless he used his angelic powers, he remained undetectable from angel radar. With Sam's lessons on hex bags, Cas hid from demons. He was, as it were, hidden from the supernatural world. For now.

However, Cas knew he couldn't avoid using his powers for long. A demon would attack, or an angel scout would spot him, and he'd have to fight or to teleport. He needed safe houses for retreat, and he assumed that, between Naomi and Crowley, all his old haunts (as well as those of the Winchesters) were now compromised.

Thus, Castiel kept himself busy. He moved constantly and continuously set up hideaways. Activity helped him focus, even as Dean's prayers snapped his heart into pieces.

Cas, you bastard! You keep disappearing on me. Are you even alive? What did you mean you needed to protect the tablet from me? What do you think I'm going to do with it? You think I'd hurt Kevin? Or you? I deserve to know. I deserve to hear it from you. Now!

Before, Dean's prayers had been more like daily summaries. Cas had listened as Dean explained how his grandfather time traveled to the present and how they dealt with an old friend turned-witch at the request of his familiar.

That's assuming, of course, that Naomi hadn't compromised those memories or his ability to hear prayers.

Castiel found himself somewhere familiar. He entered a fancy hotel in Wichita, Kansas and checked in under the name Stephen Alexander Smith. The doorman recognized him and followed him into the elevator.

"Stephen," said the doorman, "you're here."

"Yes," Cas responded. Was yet another thing that Naomi had taken from him?

"You're in room 1416. Right this way."

Cas followed the doorman down the winding halls to his assigned room number.

"I am very confused," Cas said.

"Yes, Stephen," he replied, "you told me you would be. But you also said you might never come back, so – "

"Back?" Cas repeated.

"Your room," the man replied, waving his hand at the lock.

Cas fumbled with the plastic card and unlocked the door, and they both entered.

It was as if a curtain lifted up.

"Matthon?" Cas said, finally recognizing the doorman.

"Castiel."

"Brother, what are you – what are we doing here?"

Matthon spoke with concern, "You should remember everything, Castiel. Please, tell me what you can remember."

Matthon served under Anna with the Garrison. When the Leviathan captured the Prophet Kevin Tran, he left to bring the news to Heaven. He returned to find the others dead and had to go to ground. Cas did remember.

"We've met here before." Cas said slowly. "You and I?"

"Yes, many times," Matthon replied.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"It's okay, that's why I'm still here. We set up an arrangement. I keep messages safe for you."

"Yes, I remember that," Cas acknowledged as his memory slowly became more accessible.

Matthon produced a DVD and said, "You gave this to me. Sometimes you add new recordings to it."

"Brother," Cas began, "you should leave. Find a new place to hide. I'm afraid I've put you in danger coming here."

"You say that every time," Matthon replied.

"This is different. It's not just heaven I'm worried about," Cas admitted. "Please, Matthon, there are so few free angels left."

"Castiel, if I leave this place, the charm on this room will be gone, and you will remember everything when you leave it."

"I understand."

"Then, be well brother," Matthon said casually.

Matthon walked away. He had the discretion to travel without the use of his power, which was something Castiel failed to consider until the other angel left the room. The angels would be looking for anything supernatural, which meant that he needed to ignore the panic he felt and leave Wichita as humanly as he arrived.

Cas raced down the fire escape and made his way to the train station.

Castiel found a discreet motel in the middle of nowhere, Montana. He covered the place in sigils and closed the curtains, desperately hoping no angel caught his trail.

He took the DVD and set it in the player, unsure if the disc had any content at all.

The TV screen showed his face. Then it panned out.

"It's on," came a voice. It sounded like Matthon, but he wasn't on the screen.

"You sure?" Cas saw himself ask.

"Yes, go on."

Cas looked at the camera, which inexpertly captured his face and half the hotel room.

"If I'm watching this, and remembering it, it's because I've figured out who has been tampering with my memories. After my return from Purgatory, I attempted to visit my friends. According to them, they kept seeing me, but not connecting. I don't remember this.

"I've lost memories. I remember the first fish with a spine, the first reptile – but I don't remember the Exodus from Egypt or Eden. I don't remember the First World War. I don't remember the Middle Ages. I'm sure there's more, but I can't remember.

"I can only conclude that someone has, or is currently, altering my memory or perceptions. I cannot stay in the presence of my friends with this possibility unresolved, so I have recorded the following information as to not lose it forever."

Castiel paused the DVD. According to the date and time stamped on the screen, he had recorded this message months ago, after that psychic-gone-cartoon case with the Winchesters. He put his hand on his abdomen, feeling the solid surface of the Angel Tablet affixed to him like armor. Did he want to watch the DVD, knowing pursuit was underway?

The angel decided that he needed to know what kind of information was there, so he pressed the play button.

He saw himself speak, "This is in no particular order, except maybe relevance to my current situation. Sam and Dean Winchester are family. They see me as family, and I see them as family.

"Anna fell to earth because she wanted to be human. She wanted to know how things felt. The Winchesters protected her and helped her, even though the forces of Hell and Heaven both vied for her. I was among the forces of Heaven with my brother Uriel."

Castiel watched himself smile; his entire face lit up with the fondness of the memory. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Or, maybe he just couldn't recollect the feeling.

"They said they'd give the human Anna to us. Dean only did it because he was forced to choose between his brother and Anna. Uriel and I went to collect her, and while we were there, a demon named Ruby – she was working with Sam – appeared with Alastair and others. While Uriel and I fought the demons, Anna retrieved her Grace and returned to her angelic form."

Cas turned off the DVD and ejected it. Naomi had left his memories of Sam and Dean in tact; at least, as far as he knew. It was clear, from this one recounting, that the message wasn't about factual history. It was about his relationship with humanity. He needed to remember Dean's reason for handing over Anna. He needed to know that Sam's plan to save her involved a move the angels never saw coming.

He remembered that day. He could smell and see and hear all the events as he described them on the recording, but the angel didn't feel it. He let himself remember Dean kissing Anna goodbye, but as he recalled it, he couldn't dredge up the emotions of the experience.

Naomi must have tampered with his memories of the Winchesters or, at the very least, her work had affected his abilities. Anger welled up in his ears till it roared like boiling water.

Cas pocketed the DVD. He couldn't risk watching more of it now. He needed to ensure his connection to Naomi was severed completely before returning to the Winchesters.

Cas. I don't know if you can hear me, but Sam is sick. I'm barely keeping it together. If our friendship, or profound bond or whatever the hell you called it before, means anything to you, you'll find a way to -

Damn it! I told you I needed you. And I meant it. I need you. I do.

Castiel hated Dean's late-night prayers. When the hunter couldn't sleep, his words became desperate and needy, almost begging.

You son of a bitch. How could you just abandon your family?

Castiel listened. He used the prayers as a tether. Dean swore and yelled and accused, but Cas understood. He felt it. Had Dean really hated Cas, he would never whisper to him in the dark, nor would he curse Cas's name or accuse the angel of abandonment. Dean didn't waste time like that on people he didn't care about.

Right now my little brother is trying to pull Bobby out of hell, Cas. Bobby. You remember him don't you? And that bitch Naomi dropped by and had some things to say.

That's it? You're gonna just leave it? With nothing? Because according to her, you don't have the same loyalty for me as I do for you. You know what? I'm starting to believe her, you cowardly, junkless sonovabitch!

Weeks passed, and Cas couldn't handle it anymore. When Naomi prevented him from answering Dean's calls, she removed his will, his choice. But now he could choose to return to the brothers, and he hated himself for staying away. Cas needed to speak to Dean, to answer his questions, to explain himself.

Castiel obtained a plain-page leather-bound book from some generic bookstore. He remembered the first prayers after the crypt. Once he summoned up the memory of Dean's voice, he let himself feel everything.

Then he wrote his reply. Cas usually communicated in Enochian, but he knew Dean loathed translation. So, he scribbled his messages in untidy English.

Dear Dean:

I wish I could return to you and your brother. For your help protecting the Angel Tablet. For your company. I want to help you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. But it's too dangerous. Hell is already rallied against you because of the Trials. You don't need Heaven attacking you for the Tablet.

I hope you understand that I never meant I couldn't trust you. I hate that I lied to you, but Naomi will do anything for the Angel Tablet, including torturing you.

I can't let that happen.

Sincerely,
Castiel

He wrote on and on, systematically answering each and every prayer, even if only to write a brief apology. It took ten hours to catch up.

Kevin is missing. You remember him? The freaking prophet? Yeah, he's gone! He's run for it. We were supposed to protect him, Cas. Where are you? If you can hear me, what could possibly be more important than this?

Dear Dean,

I will do everything I can to locate Kevin, but in my current state I am more of a danger to him than Crowley is. I fear the angels will kill him rather than let the Angel Tablet be translated.

I always hear you, Dean. I am always listening. When you wake up from a nightmare and yell for your brother and then for me, I hear it. When you feel misery and withdraw to a shower or a lone car ride, and you think my name, I hear it. I listen. I am always listening. When you yell, when you whisper, when you vomit, when you bleed, when you speak.

I should have told you a thousand times before. I should have made it clear to you. I always hear you.

Yours always,
Castiel

"I understand," said Goren. "And I will do my best, but even that will be no guarantee."

Castiel bowed his head in misery. He said, "I came because you are a healer."

"There's no doubt about that," Goren said. "I will heal you as best I can. Your vessel as well. But I don't know the extent of whatever this other angel did to you. So I can only hope to undo what I can see."

"That will be something at least," Castiel said. "I don't have much by way of payment."

Goren replied. "Stephen, you'll owe me a favor. How about that?"

Cas felt badly for using a pseudonym, but caution seemed appropriate.

"This will be unpleasant," Goren said apologetically. "If there is a place you find soothing, I suggest you mentally establish an image of yourself there."

Cas nodded. Goren placed one hand on the angel's head and plunged the second between his collarbones. The pain permeated every element of the angel's being, far beyond his vessel. The pain intensified when Goren pressed his other hand into Castiel's head.

The angel screamed, only to discover that his voice failed him. Something pulled away from his consciousness, like a blanket or cloak, but heavier. Once whatever it was lifted, his awareness opened. The weight of Naomi's work, the chains she wrapped him in, dragged him down and down and down –

"Stephen!" Goren called out.

Castiel came back to consciousness in a state of panic.

"Stephen," Goren repeated. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Do you know my name?"

"Goren."

"Good. I did all I could," Goren said as he helped the angel back to his feet.

"I felt it."

"Like I said, there are no guarantees," Goren said.

"I understand."

"But, in the interest of that favor you owe me, I can give you the next best thing."

"What?" Cas asked more out of confusion than curiosity.

Goren gave the angel a large receptacle of Holy Oil. "Insurance."

"Thank you, Goren," Cas said. "Goodbye."