Author's note: I apologize for the wait and I hope those that are reading continue to. Please r/r. I always love the feedback. I'm grateful to anyone who is taking their time out to read this series, and I hope you enjoy this episode. This is dedicated to all the Misha fans because he is missed so much on the show and a special thanks goes out to one of my best friends and supporters of this story, Naomi who made sure series one wouldn't be the last. So sit back, relax and enjoy! Also, a PS: this is part of a longer series so I recommend that you read series one just so that you won't be too confuzzled.

Castiel understood that love was complicated—all songs suggested this, all literature focused on it, but for an angel, love was beyond the realm of complicated. He was the odd one out. He had always been the odd one out, but to fall for a human? To love a human unconditionally? Not one of his brothers or sisters could understand it. A few accused him of blasphemy (somehow he would have to think he was equal to humans to be loved by one), and some were just curious. Balthazar was curious. Michael was curious, though indifferent and decidedly accepting of it since he always told Castiel how strange he was to begin with.

"Only you would fall for a human," he remarked with a shake of his head. "You Castiel, you are the strangest angel. Ever since you were able to take your place within the army, you have been… different, special. We hardened you, sure, but it took time. I will not say you are weak, but you are, and have always been, vulnerable to human emotion."

Ever since Castiel had become an archangel and the two brothers had started working as a team to try and put Heaven right, they had become closer. "I thought I was always like you," he muttered, staring at his brother's back as they made their way through the garden.

"No, brother," Michael replied, turning to face him now. "You love a human; none of us have. You also do not play by the same rules. You have defied the book twice—both times on account of humans."

Castiel glanced up to the sight of a dove gliding overhead.

Michael continued his speech, face calm as he spoke. "Do you understand what you almost always give up whenever Dean's life is on the table?"

Castiel lowered his eyes to his brother's. "No…"

"Everything," Michael hissed with a laugh, grabbing Castiel's shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. "Like I said before, I will not scold you. I commend your bravery, your determination to do whatever it takes for someone other than you or even one of us, but love… as strong as it may be, is also a weakness. We are made to be strong, durable, resistant, but love… the kind of love you harbour does cause frailty. Humans are weak because they are human, but angels… we are protectors. We cannot afford to be weak, Castiel."

Castiel frowned. "I am not weak, Michael."

"No, brother—right now you are strong, but… Dean's weakness may well be yours."

"I thought you weren't going to scold me."

"This is not a scolding, Castiel, this is just… a brotherly warning. Be cautious. Be careful. Be vigilant."

Castiel didn't take many breaks away from following the orders of Michael, which included training the angels that had not yet poked their heads out of Heaven and had never picked up a weapon. However, after a long and hard training session with a group of amateur soldiers, Michael allowed him a rest. He went straight to his favourite place and lay in the grass, watching the Autistic man who he soon learned was Alec Smyth fly his kite of many colours. Alec had many kites, but this one of traditional size with a long golden tail was Castiel's favourite.

He had just allowed himself to relax, released his tensions into the thin air above him and had decided on possibly sending an Enochian message to Dean when a familiar voice spoke from above him. "Let me guess, Dean Winchester understands Enochian."

Castiel's eyes opened to see Balthazar there, gazing down at him, dressed in his casual t-shirt, jeans and rumpled suit jacket. He carried a whimsical look in his glowing face, awaiting the answer. "Yes," Castiel eventually replied.

"I see, I see." Balthazar murmured with a nod, a smile of coy curiosity emerging. Castiel knew his brother well, a soldier who had no problem playing the part of a spy and harbouring ulterior motives. "So tell me how this works?"

"How what works, Balthazar?" Castiel asked, pulling up to a sitting position.

Balthazar laughed. "This… thing… with Dean! We'll just… you know… bond or what have you, and you can tell me what happened exactly."

"I don't understand what you're asking," Castiel admitted. Sometimes his old friend confused him as much or more than Dean did.

Balthazar groaned, crouching down to meet Castiel's eyes. "You are a frustrating bestie, you know that?"

"Speak plain," Castiel said, rolling his eyes.

"I want to know about Dean, Cassie! Let's pretend this is a slumber party and we have finally gotten to the part where we spill our most telling secrets. You first," he pressed, gesturing emphatically to Castiel.

"What do you want to know?" Castiel asked, eyeing his brother now.

"Basically, I want to know how?"

"How…"

"How you and Dean became you and Dean? I've heard the stories—you frustrated the hell out of each other. He never listened to you. You beat on him at one time. So, what happened? I've gotta tell you this baffles me. Did it just… happen? Did you think about him at one time or another and just… poof! It was true love?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "You were on the earth for a long time, Belthazar, you tell me if true love happens… poof! Just like that?"

"For humans, it's rare, but for angels…"

"It's impossible," Castiel replied.

"Right, right, so how?"

Castiel shrugged. "I can't be sure how."

"When then?" Balthazar pressed anxiously.

"I don't know, Balthazar…"

Belthazar nodded, seemingly restless and waiting for specific ingredients in concocting true love. "Of course, of course, so… what can you tell me that might be… I don't know… useful?"

"I can tell you that there were obstacles such as arguments sometimes resulting in defeat, eroding patience, loss of trust. I understand true love as well as you do, but I think it takes time and endurance and stability," he explained.

Balthazar was frowning. "That sounds… like a lot of work."

"Yes… it is."

"But you're happy. What angel wouldn't want to be happy? Do you understand how difficult it is to find happiness? Humans literally search for it their whole lives. I want to experience… being happy—like you, Cassie."

Castiel eyed his brother. "I understand but…"

"Oh, relax, bestie, Sam is cute, but the kiss was weak. I'm a high maintenance angel, obviously. I deserve only the best. I deserve the Dom of relationships, don't you think?" Balthazar grinned

"Of course, Balthazar."

Balthazar laid back on the grass. Alec had provided a new kite—a green dragon with a long red and gold tail. "This place is nice, Cassie. I might come here more often when I'm not down there," he gestured down to Earth with a slight tilt of his head. Both acknowledged the echoing call of their older brother. "Oh! That must be a fun job, eh? Lookin after all the newbies, making sure they can sling a blade with the best of 'em. How many have already chopped off a limb?"

"I have to go," Castiel muttered.

Balthazar nodded. "Have fun, bestie! We'll continue our little party when you get back and you can tell me all about the newbie soldiers."

Castiel had always enjoyed his time alone here in this place, but forced a smile anyway for the sake of his good friend, fellow soldier and brother. He stood but did not go to Michael. He stopped, heart pounding to the sound of a voice in his head, a voice full to brimming with panic.

Cas, I need you- now!

Balthazar noticed the torn expression on Castiel's face and stood. "Is it… them?"

"Something's wrong, Balthazar," he gasped. Michael's call was heard again.

"Go to your boyfriends, Cassie, I'll cover for you," Balthazar offered with a grin.

"Really?"

"That's what bestie's do, right?"

Cas! Please!

The panic in Dean's voice was getting worse. Castiel gazed at his brother unable to restrain a sigh of relief and gratitude. "Thank you… I… I…"

"Yeah, yeah, you owe me now get on, will ya?"

Castiel nodded, smiled and left.

"Sam! Sammy! Come on, Sam," Dean demanded of his silent brother, lying on the rug in Bobby's library. "Sam!" Dean called again. Castiel still had not made an appearance and this absence was causing his nerves to grate even more. "Damnit, Cas! Where the hell are you? This is a friggin emergency!" He jumped to a warm hand landing on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dean," the angel apologized sincerely.

"It's fine, Cas, I just… I need you to do something, okay? Anything," Dean pleaded, hands pressed against his forehead. "Sam is just… gone. I've been calling but he just lies there. Just tell me he's not dead! Tell me that!"

Castiel knelt next to the limp younger brother and pressed his hands to the firm chest beneath the worn grey t-shirt.

"Well?" Dean called, losing his cool completely to panic. "Cas? He's okay, right?"

Castiel looked up, but the expression on his face was unreadable. "He is… alive."

Dean collapsed with relief, pressing his head down on his brother's chest. "Oh god, thank god…" he choked. "Okay, so we're obviously dealing with something nasty, something that's after Sam," Dean said, and with Castiel's help, Sam was transferred to the couch where he continued to lay there unmoving.

Dean bent over the unconscious hunter, voice breaking as he spoke. "It's okay, Sammy. Cas and I are gonna save you, so just… hold on."

He pulled himself up to his feet, facing Castiel with a severe look on his face. "Are we looking for a succubus? And if we are, who the hell is Sam's true love?"

"Dean," Cas murmured, "This is not the work of a succubus. Sam's soul is still intact."

Dean pressed a hand to Sam's shoulder. "Okay… well, what the hell are we looking for then?"

"Someone who would want to hold Sam's mind hostage," Castiel replied.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that someone or something has manipulated Sam's memories; he thinks he's back in the cage, back with Michael and Lucifer."

Dean felt his heart pound with this knowledge. "So… what? He's reliving the cage over and over again?"

"Dean, this kind of exposure will eventually kill him."

Dean's breathing was suddenly heavy, rasping. "Then we've gotta find this sonofabitch and tear it, him, her or whatever to friggin pieces! I mean it, Cas, limb from limb until that monster is writhing!"

Castiel nodded in understanding. "I will find who's doing this, Dean. You stay with Sam," Castiel suggested softly.

Dean could only stare at him helplessly. "I can't… I can't lose him, Cas… he's my brother."

"You won't lose him, Dean. Just… stay here, protect him, and I will be back."

Dean nodded weakly, accepting a gentle squeeze to his shoulder before watching Castiel vanish. Dean had no idea what was happening to Sam, but he could only imagine the worst kind of torture reserved for him in his memories of the cage. Dean had no cure, no access, no nothing to help relieve his brother of at least some of that enduring torture, so he did what he had always done: he relayed memories in hopes that those memories might overpower the ones the monster had forced him to withstand.

"Hold on, Sammy, hold on," he said, gritty with determination.

Sam felt his skin burning, sizzling, crackling and falling off while laughter resounded. He was back in the cage, back in Hell with two righteously pissed angels. Adam had been hung by his ankles and Sam by his wrists. Michael was angry, but he paid no heed to the souls, spending all his energy on Lucifer, however, Lucifer was taking all his frustrations out on Sam and Adam—taking turns with them and laughing when he was able to evoke what he called a "girlish" scream from either or both at one time.

"Dean," Sam cried out against the flames that rose along his bare chest. "Dean!"

"Geez, Sammy, shut up, you're gonna wake dad and then we're gonna be in some major trouble!"

Sam was sure he had heard it, that it wasn't just a hallucination. "Dean?" he called again. Both angels were oblivious to this.

"If you wanna use the slingshot, then you have to be quiet!"

"Slingshot?" Sam choked.

"Yeah, you know, pull it back, aim, hit the target. It's so simple a child could do it, and we're not normal children, Sammy, so if you can't do it then there's definitely gotta be something wrong with you."

"Shut up," Sam heard himself laugh. "I can do it."

"Of course you can. You're Sammy Winchester, right? And it's us against the world."

"Us against the world," Sam repeated.

Another voice—no, the same voice just much older, more mature—spoke "Someone's holding you hostage, Sammy, but we're trying to get you out—Cas and I are gonna save you…"

"Dean," Sam realized, feeling groggy. "Dean… help me."

"I'm trying, but you have to concentrate."

Sam forced his head up. "What?"

"I'm trying to help you, but you need to concentrate," Dean repeated. "Do you understand, Sammy?"

Laughter overpowered Dean's voice as Lucifer swung a fatal blow into Sam's stomach. "Come on, Michael," the fallen angel taunted his brother, swinging a second time and receiving a satisfying scream from the hunter. "It's fun! Plus, he deserves this punishment after acting like an interceding little worm!"

Sam gazed over at the unconscious Adam. "Dean…"

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean called when Sam had opened his mouth just enough to utter his name. "Hey, I'm here! You just need to concentrate on me!" He framed his brother's face desperately. "Hey, hey, listen… you remember when we set off all those fireworks in that abandoned field? Those were good times, huh? Sammy?"

"I… remember…" came a choked reply.

"Good," Dean murmured. "I remember when you made mud cakes. I was so convinced that they were real that I ate one. I swore I'd kick your ass for that one! You remember? Honestly, I still owe you a beat down." Dean felt tears rise in his throat and his eyes. "You were such a bitch…"

Silence.

"Jerk…"

"You need to hold on, Sammy," Dean pleaded now. "You and Bobby are all the family I have left. I know you know that I'd probably destroy myself without you. Seriously, man, you may as well just take me with you if you're gonna give up."

Sam's eyes fluttered. "I'm not… giving… up… Dean…"

Dean hugged hard around his brother's shoulders before dispatching more memories. Sam was listening; he was responding, but he was still gone, still unable to open his eyes. A rush of wings forced Dean to his feet so fast that he stumbled from the rush of blood to his brain. Castiel's hands steadied him. "Dean? I have found Sam's captor."

"Good," Dean growled. He patted the Colt on his belt. "Time to take down the…" he stopped mid-threat to a rush of wings. Castiel was instantly gone. "Cas? What the hell, man? Cas!"

Castiel never answered the call, not even when Dean found himself resorting to thinking at the angel. "Cas, what's going on?"

"Dean?"

Dean swivelled around, eyes wide and wet at the sight of his brother sitting up and rubbing his head. "Sammy?" Dean sighed and practically fell on his brother, hugging tight around those broad shoulders. "How are you feeling, huh? Remember… anything?"

Sam's voice was groggy. "I was… being held hostage?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, "but Cas must've done something to get you out. Would've been nice if he'd at least dropped a friggin hint, though."

"I guess I owe him now," Sam muttered.

Dean pulled back to stare hard at his brother. "You softenin up to him or something?"

"I'm just sayin, Dean," Sam defended with a stifled laugh, "Don't worry, I'm not tryin to steal your boyfriend."

Dean slapped his brother's arm deliberately hard before turning to face the piles of books on the table. "I don't feel right about this whole thing," he admitted, sinking down into a chair. "Cas is either out of cellphone range or… something else is goin on here."

"Like what?" Sam asked

"I dunno, but you just came out of your… slump too easy."

"You wanna maybe… do a quick search?" Sam suggested, already getting up to approach the table and taking his tablet to power it on. "I could look up mind manipulation."

Dean wanted to leave this alone, chalk it up to good luck and a silent angel doing his job, but nothing about this was sitting right. He continued to try thinking at Castiel even as he helped Sam with the search. "Damnit, Cas, where the hell are you?" Dean muttered.

Sam made a face behind his lap top. "Hmm… we have witches, demons, something unoriginally named the brain monster"

"We piss off a witch lately?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam muttered. "Though, it's not like we would be able to tell, unless we somehow crept down into the basement, but…"

"You sleep with anyone lately?" Dean cut into Sam's ranting.

"Me?" Sam laughed. "I'm not the one who dines and dashes, Dean."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, well… since I'm… you know, obviously I quit the D and D."

Sam grinned. "This is getting serious."

"Okay, so we've ruled out sleeping with or pissing off any witches, what else?"

"Dean…" Sam pressed still with that annoying grin.

"Sam, I might be grateful that you're okay, but that won't stop me from beatin you down hard!" Sam's giggle was almost contagious, but Dean managed to keep his own in check. "You're a freak you know that?"

"You're an angel lover," Sam cooed.

"Back to business, Sammy."

Sam's grin receded a little. "Oh fine. We have… the brain monster?"

"The brain monster?"

"That's what it says here," Sam pointed it out to Dean on his tablet.

"If Castiel would just pick up the friggin phone, we'd know what the hell did this to you," Dean muttered through gritted teeth. "friggin angels!"

"How would we know?" Sam asked, gazing at his brother curiously now.

Dean shrugged. "Cas popped in before you woke up, claiming that he knew who your captor was. That was it then he was gone."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed to this. "That doesn't sound like Cas."

"Right?" Dean hollered, glad that his brother was starting to feel the same way he did about this whole thing. "So, what do we do?"

Sam shrugged, pressing a fist to his forehead. "If Cas was captured by the same monster who held my mind hostage, then we have a huge problem, Dean."

Dean hadn't thought that Castiel could have been taken. What kind of creature would be that powerful? He straightened, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated. "If they took Cas, then this is obviously about one thing," Dean muttered.

"Your soul," Sam filled in with a nod.

"Sonofabitch!"

"We have a host of angels who wanna see Cas's head on a stick, Dean. Who knows? Maybe they all got together and…"

"Stop right there, Sammy," Dean gasped.

"I'm just saying what you won't."

"He's Cas. He'll be fine. He's wasted plenty of monsters stronger than him. I'll just… I'll keep calling, and you…" he brought his eyes to his brother who was now biting his bottom lip, "keep searching for… something, anything to let us know what the hell is behind this." Dean left his brother to step outside. The wind harboured within it a chill that caused Dean to shiver. He passed his Impala and made his way to the green Mustang—Castiel's thinking place. For a moment, he just stood there gathering himself and his thoughts and settling them carefully on the tether.

Cas… if something happened and you're… in trouble, you need to send me a sign or something. Come on, Cas, anything will help right now. Cas! Please—whatever you can spare.

Dean stood there but he received no sign, no word that the angel was at least okay. He collapsed back against the car, but refused to stop the thoughts. He hoped that the absence of a response was not due to a dead angel. "God help me," he choked.

Heavy footsteps caused the hunter to bolt upright, grabbing the Colt off his belt. He rounded on the intruder to find that he was staring into the freckled face of a young boy—probably in his teens. "Are you… Dean Winchester?"

Dean lowered the Colt slowly. It wasn't like they had never dealt with demon possessed children before. "Yeah… that's me. Who are…"

"Dean Winchester, this is for you."

The teenager held out a large brown envelope. "What's this?" Dean rasped in demand, but once the envelope was out of his hands, the teen simply walked away. "Hey!" Dean called after him but to no avail. Without anymore reservation, Dean ripped open the envelope to pull out a thick wad of paper—a contract. "What the hell?"

He carried the contract inside to show Sam. Sam's eyes went wide as he reached for it. "What the hell?" he gasped.

"Exactly what I said."

"There are a lot of big words in here, Dean," Sam admitted, leafing through the pages and pages of contract. "Basic gist of it is, you hand over your soul and there will be no more trouble."

Dean laughed. "What?"

"There's a list of threats on the second page, and…" Sam had the contract flipped to the last page, "You'll never guess what else?"

"What else?"

Sam's mouth was thin with his growing anger. "An address. Whoever drew this up is here in Sioux Falls, and is obviously waiting for you."

Dean snatched the contract, shoving it back into the envelope. "Fine, let's go pay mister wanna-be Crossroads demon a visit."

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder before the hunter could stroll out. "Dean, this is a trap. This… whatever it is, is baiting you."

"Well, I ain't no regular sucker, Sammy."

"You can't just charge in there when we have no idea what we're up against!"

"Whatever we're up against probably has Cas," Dean stormed, and the words bounced off the walls around them. Sam's mouth closed in defeat. "If he's in trouble, if he's hurt, that's on me."

Sam blew out a breath of frustration. "Yeah, well if this ends up sinkin you both because you refused to see reason—that's on me!"

Dean paused, swallowing hard. "You comin?" He muttered, unable to look at his brother now.

"Yeah, Dean…"

The address was a motel both Dean and Sam had stayed in on a hunt before. Sam carried a shotgun with rock salt rounds and Dean pulled the Colt free. With a heavy kick to the flimsy door, they were in. A shadow was cast against the wall—one unfamiliar to the brothers.

"Dean and Sam, you finally came. Good on you both."

"Who are you?" Dean ordered.

"Did you bring it, Dean?" The voice asked, slowly emerging from the shadows. Sam held his weapon upright and steady, but was unable to prevent the breath of shock from leaving him.

"Oh my god, Dean… he's human."

"Jesus!" Dean cocked his gun.

The man was not even as tall as Dean with bleached white hair and grey eyes that hissed and smouldered in the threatening light of the full moon. "Wow, you really do talk like that. Seriously, I thought it was just me."

"What are you talking about?" Dean growled.

The man leaned back with arms crossed. "Did you bring it?"

Dean could feel the contract hugged beneath his arm, shrouded by his jacket. "The contract?" he spat, "Yeah, I got it."

"Did you sign it?"

Dean snorted out a laugh of contempt. "Yeah, in blood, too. That's how the big boys like to do it, I think. I'm relieved there was no kiss. You're just not my type."

"Maybe not, but Cas is," the ruthless man taunted. "Oh yeah, I know about that little tryst, Dean. The kiss Castiel planted on you that you couldn't share with Sam. Instead you told him that hooligans hijacked your car." He brought his eyes to Sam's maliciously. His arm was quivering under the weight of this new knowledge in addition to the shotgun. "Yeah, Sammy, he told you a lie, but you knew that. The windows of the beloved Impala exploded—BOOM! Glass everywhere, and Dean, though upset, thought it was freakin worth it."

Dean could not look at Sam. "How do you know any of that? What are you, a freakin peepin tom?" Dean demanded, voice breaking under the pressure.

The dark man chuckled dangerously low. "Nope… I'm a prophet."

"A prophet?" Dean spat in disdain. "You've gotta be kiddin me!"

"If you sign the contract, Sam will never experience Hell again."

"How about I just terminate your ass," Dean snapped.

The prophet nodded matter-of-factly. "You could, but then… the archangel tethered to my ass would probably annihilate yours."

Dean felt like there was no other choice and without facing his brother yelled, "Sam get out of here!"

"What? No," Sam argued.

"You can't be here when I do this so get the hell out!" Dean ordered. To Dean's surprise, his brother miraculously vanished from view.

"What are you gonna do, Dean?" murmured the prophet with a satisfied grin.

"I'm gonna call the old man out," Dean replied, pulling the trigger of his Colt. The bullet was suspended in mid-air, inches from the prophet, and standing in Dean's way was Castiel. "Cas," he snarled. "It's been a while since you screwed me. How are all the other douchebags doin? Are they cheerin yeh on, huh?"

"Being an archangel comes with… responsibilities."

"Spare me the bull crap! I've heard it all before! So come on, you sonofabitch, waste me! I'm free friggin game!" Dean dropped the Colt, standing there with his arms extended. "Come on!" He screamed when Castiel hadn't made a move. Dean felt something warm on his cheeks and knew that the changing expression on the angel's face was due to it. "Damnit, Cas, what are you waiting for?"

Castiel looked to be struggling, fighting an internal fight. He raised a hand slowly to hover inches from Dean's forehead. "Dean… I'm sorry… to leave you… like this." With that, his fingers grazed the hunter's forehead.

Dean tried to evade the warm hand, but even as he screamed in protest, he was teleported back to Bobby's. "Cas!" he hollered then tried accessing the angel's thoughts.

Cas! Answer me, damnit! Cas!

"Dean?"

Dean swivelled around to see that Sam was standing there next to the table looking utterly perplexed. "Sammy… Cas was teamed up with the evil mother prophet," he explained before dropping to the floor drained of strength. "But I don't think it was by choice…"

"Dean?" Sam crouched down, placing a hand on his brother's shuddering shoulder.

"We have to go back…"

Castiel stood facing the prophet, mouth contorted into a look so murderous that the prophet did cringe slightly, bullet clenched tight in his fist. He let it drop to the floor of the motel, and it pinged before bouncing out of sight. "You are chosen for a higher purpose, and this is what you do with it?"

The prophet sneered at the angel. "Ah, Cas, you are no doubt cursing your father right now. That damn bastard stuck you with me. Thanks… by the way."

Without a word, Castiel thrust the overconfident prophet into the wall with one flick of his wrist. "You crossed a line," he hissed menacingly.

"Right, with Dean, well he is the keeper of the infinite soul, and I just wanted to inspect the merchandise. Imagine what my predecessor would have done if he had learned to harness a prophet's power. He didn't understand…"

"You are finished!" Castiel cut in. "You are abusing your powers for your own personal gain!"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for myself, Cas. Chuck got screwed in this deal because he didn't bother to plan. Once I have the infinite soul, I will be safe. I will write the story without hesitation and you will have an obedient prophet."

Castiel glared daggers into the prophet. "I'd advise you to stop talking," he growled threateningly.

The prophet laughed. "Hey, whether you like or not, Cas, I was appointed the new prophet because you—oh disloyal one—messed up the story so guess what, you can't do a damn thing to me unless you plan on letting your father smite your ass!"

"I have never been afraid of facing my father's wrath and do not call me Cas!"

The prophet tried to appeal to Castiel."Look, you can't blame me for wanting a piece of Dean's soul. There isn't anyone on Earth, in Heaven or Hell that wouldn't do the same thing. Most are just biding their time."

Castiel growled "I should let Dean tear you limb from limb!"

"Castiel! I can help you! There are a lot of threats out there, especially threats against Dean—demons, humans, you name it! But I can stop them! I can give you the info before anyone else!"

"Stop talking," the angel demanded, glaring up into the eyes of the whimpering prophet.

"You'll die if you do this, angel!"

"I'm not afraid of dying… if it's for a good cause," Castiel snarled. He felt a rage overpower his senses, but before he could release it in one good and fatal blow, his shoulder was grabbed sharply.

"Castiel, no!"

Castiel turned to see Dean standing there, but this was not Dean—this was his brother, and the look on his face was one of warning. "I have to," he gasped. "He is not using his gift for the purpose which it was meant. He should be destroyed…"

"Hence then you shall be destroyed with him, little brother."

"I don't care, Michael!" He fought.

"Well… I do! The tether must be severed in order for you to live."

"That's… impossible," Castiel gasped. "No angel has ever done it…"

"Actually, it's possible, it is just… punishable by death, which is why… I will do it."

Castiel admired his brother right then, but he did not want him to die. "I can't… let you, Michael."

"You really have no choice, Castiel; it's either this or you die, and I choose for you to live!"

"Michael…"

"Enough!" Michael snapped, and in one swift movement, Castiel felt the tether release, freeing him of his duty to this prophet. The foundation began quaking dangerously but Michael was not finished. He went straight to the prophet, touched him lightly, and watched him burn from the inside out. The quaking was growing worse. Michael was about to incur God's wrath. "Castiel go!"

"You have Dean," Castiel called, trying to keep himself steady.

"Dean will live, little brother! Go!"

Castiel bolted across to Michael, dragging him down to the floor with both arms acting as shelter for the angel. "Don't move," Castiel demanded him.

"You can't…" the angel argued, but Castiel interrupted him.

"I said don't move!"

Michael's voice was warmer now. "You are one of a kind, little brother. There is still so much I needed to learn from your example…" An explosion of bright light caused Castiel to cry out:

"Michael!"

"Cas?" whispered a voice from beneath him, but it wasn't the voice of his brother anymore. "Hey… can you hear me?" Castiel was slowly becoming aware of his new surroundings. Michael had sent Dean and him back to Bobby's.

"Yes," replied Castiel, pulling himself up, "Dean, I can hear you."

"Michael asked me to… to help you, man."

Castiel nodded. "I know. I should… go, but… I am… I'm grateful." With that, he vanished.

"Cas!" Dean called after the angel, but he received no reply. "Cas! There's no one who understands this better than Sam and I! If you're listening… you're not alone!"

"Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean looked over at him. "He lost his brother, Sam. The worst thing that can happen has happened to him!"

"Michael did what you always do," Sam said in a consoling voice. "He was protecting his little brother."

"Because of me," Dean spat in anger. "All this crap—Cas losing Michael, the prophet gone dark side, even your return to Hell's cage—it's all because of me and my useless, pointless soul! Someone, anyone just needs to yank the damn thing out and bury it six feet freakin under!"

Without finishing the argument, Dean stormed outside, head tilted up to face the one who had started all this. "Whatdya want, huh? Are you testing him or something? You don't think he's given enough? What the hell good are ya to anyone if you would just let someone's brother die?" He tore his shirt over his head. "Just take it already! Come on, you bastard!"

The rush of wings surprised him and he rounded on Castiel, grabbing his bare chest in shock. "Jesus, Cas!"

"It wasn't your fault, Dean," the angel murmured.

"Like hell it wasn't," Dean snapped, gathering his shirt off the ground to yank it over his head. "I hate the head office!"

"Dean…"

"You lost Michael because some douchnozzle prophet wanted to deal for my soul, Cas! This is one hundred percent my friggin fault!"

"I don't blame you. I will never blame you."

"You should!"

"Well, I don't," Castiel argued, approaching the hunter. "Michael died because he chose free will over destiny. It took him thousands upon thousands of years to realize the true potential of free will, and I could not be more grateful that he practised that free will, that choice, and acted like a true brother, sacrificing his life so that mine would be spared."

"He should've learned that a hell of a lot sooner, Cas," Dean choked, "then you wouldn't be here… mourning him."

"I would still be here, mourning him, Dean."

Dean looked up at the sky mainly to restrain his tears from falling. "You should stay with us for a while. No one usually sleeps on the couch, and with Bobby taking a long leave from us, there's plenty of room."

Castiel smiled. "I am grateful for the invite, Dean, but there is a lot of work to do up there, and with one less archangel, I am in charge of everything now. But… I will be checking up on you."

"Cas…" Dean called before the angel could leave, "I just wanna say… I'm sorry… for Michael… for… for everything that went down tonight—what I said. I wasn't thinking…"

Castiel swallowed hard and tears glistened in his eyes, but he forced a smile through it. "You have no reason to apologize."

Dean mopped the tears off his cheeks with the heel of his palm. "You're never alone, you know that," he reminded. "You still have Sam and Bobby and… me."

Castiel nodded. "Thanks… Dean."

The angel was gone in a blink, but every part of Dean took the blame for the loss of Michael; it was what he was used to, being the cause of people's, even angels' unhappiness, grief and heartbreak. There was not one being he could not hurt. He leaned heavily against his car, hands cradling his face.

Stop torturing yourself!

He glanced around but saw no one.

It's the Winchester way, he responded.

He was suddenly wrapped up in an unexpected embrace, so tight that his muscles cricked painfully. "Dean, you need to stop tormenting yourself over this… please."

"What am I supposed to do, Cas? Just pretend it didn't happen? Pretend like everything is fine when it's not? Sonofabitch! I killed your brother!"

Castiel pinned Dean to the car, glaring at him, his voice now low, almost menacing. "You did nothing! Nothing! And if you say one more word on the matter, I will have no choice but to silence you my way!"

"You're threatening me?" Dean croaked.

"I am… threatening you, now shut up!"

"This is my fault!"

The angel pressed a hand to the hunter's mouth, sighing "You are hopelessly stubborn. I would just like to say that you were warned. He pressed his forehead to Dean's gently. The punishment wasn't quite what Dean thought it would be; he was inundated with the soothing, calming language of Enochian, telling him that he was not to blame for anything that happened and that, were Castiel given the choice again, he would choose Dean—always. Castiel eased back, but the soothing sensation never left Dean. "You are better?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"I'm not a hundred percent," Dean gasped. "But yeah… I'm better, Cas."

"I did warn you," Castiel said, stepping back.

"I know you did…"

"You're stubborn, Dean."

"I know that, too."

Castiel pressed a hand to Dean's chest easily. "That warmth, that comfort I have given you, will spread. By tomorrow, you will no longer feel the need to torture yourself."

"What about… you?" Dean asked, lifting his head to face the angel.

"I will be okay, Dean. You and your brother are alive and safe, so I will be okay."

"Do we have to worry about anymore evil prophets?"

Castiel shook his head. "All the others have chosen the righteous path."

Dean watched as the angel vanished, leaving no trace behind, but as Dean walked toward the house he heard Castiel's voice whisper in Enochian:

Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. I love you, Dean Winchester.

Dean had slept through the night feeling better, but in the morning, he did feel a hundred percent. He awoke to a familiar presence on the bed next to him, and he turned to find that he was gazing into the eyes of Castiel. He had a hand relaxed on Dean's forehead and his voice attempted to be soothing. "Hello Dean."

"Hi," he replied, sitting up so that he was level with the angel.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah… uh… better than I've felt in a long time," he admitted.

"I'm glad," Castiel responded, getting to his feet. "I must go. With Michael gone, it is only me up there with enough patience to train the new soldiers."

Dean nodded, but before Castiel could leave, the hunter grabbed the sleeve of his overcoat. "Wait…"

"Dean, I really should go," the angel insisted, turning only slightly to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean nodded, climbing out of the bed to face Castiel. "I know. I just gotta get this out, alright? I said some really stupid things…"

"I am not…"

"Let me finish, would ya? Geez," Dean muttered.

"I apologize," the angel said, relaxing his shoulders more than Dean was used to.

"Right, well, I just wanted to say that I was wrong thinkin you had anything to do with Prophet Vader's plans. I trust you even if I act like I don't, sometimes."

The angel continued to stand there, expression indifferent to this apology, silence falling like thick smog between them.

"You're not just gonna leave me hangin here, are ya?" Dean muttered with a nervous laugh.

Castiel stepped into the hunter's personal space, gazing at him steadily. Before Dean was forced to break the silence, the angel pressed firm warm lips to his forehead. He stepped back, holding Dean's mystified gaze. "I have to go, but…"

"I know," Dean managed.

"You are… forgiven, Dean." The angel vanished, revealing his brother in the doorway.

"I think Cas forgets that I exist, too," Sam remarked with a smirk, "so… how are you doing?"

For the first time, Dean was sincere with his answer. "I'm… okay, Sammy."