AN: I'm so so sorry to those of you who've read chapter one before July 13, because I've changed a major thing in the chapter. The plot is overall the same, but I realized Dean forgiving Cas just like that for ditching him, when Sammy was about to kill himself seemed very out of character, so I've changed that, and that has of course changed the dialogue a bit, too. Please don't kill me!

Warnings: Rated T for language (will later be rated M for sexual content) ;D

I claim no ownership of nothing but my imagination.

Chapter Two

They left the bar shortly after. Castiel followed Dean wordlessly to the Impala. He disliked traveling like this, but at least it was better than by foot through the pathless woods Metatron had placed him in.

"Wow, stop right there," Dean said as Castiel opened the door to the passenger seat.

"Am I still supposed to sit in the back seat, even without Sam in the car?" Castiel asked crossed: If this was part of Dean's punishment for making the angels fall, he was just being childish. He deserved to pay for his crimes, but properly.

"No, moron, but you're not allowed to wear that thing inside my baby," Dean gestured towards Castiel's over coat.

Confused Castiel looked down himself, and he realized how dirty and smelly he had become. For a second he tried reaching inwards for his grace to clean himself, but as every other time he had tried to find it throughout the last couple of days, he felt nothing and Castiel's heart clenched with grief. It felt like being hit with an angel blade. Shivering, he took off the coat, dropped it on the ground and once again reached for the door handle.

At that Dean sighed theatrically, moved around the car and picked up the coat, but instantly stretched it away from him, exclaiming: "Ew, what the fuck Cas?! Did you sleep in a sewer?"

"No, a bog."

Dean just looked at him.

A moment later the over coat was in the trunk and Dean threw a duffle bag at Castiel. He caught it and curiously looked inside. Hesitatingly he pulled out a pair of trousers and looked at Dean, who just said: "Change behind the car, so you're covered from the bar," and got into the car.

Dean's cloths were a bit too big for him, but Castiel praised himself lucky that Dean wasn't the size of his brother. It felt weird wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but as the movement was better than in his suit, Castiel quickly adjusted.

They drove in a silence so thick Castiel actually felt uncomfortable.

Unexpectedly Dean broke it: "Where've you been since you and your feathery family fell? You look like shit."

Castile shrank slightly at the deliberate reminder.

"Metatron placed me in the middle of a forest. I moved as fast as I could to the nearest civilization. It took longer than expected, and I had to receive some help along the way in order for my vessel… body not to die." Castiel cursed inwardly as he knew Dean had noticed his mistake.

And of course the human interpreted it correctly.

"Not your vessel? What's happened to Jimmy?" Dean spared him a short look, still keeping most of his attention on the road.

Castiel sighed heavily. He hated making confessions to Dean, because it usually was about him having done something he afterwards was not proud of and then Dean would tell him what a "massive dick" he had been, but he guessed he deserved whatever Dean would throw at him.

"When I was under Naomi's control, she feared that being close to a human might make me rebel again, so she made me kill him," Castiel could see Dean's jaw and neck flex.

"And you just did?"

"Yes, she told me he was a threat to Heaven,"

"And you didn't mind at all?"

Why do you have to torment me so? "At the time, no, though some part of me knew it was wrong, but I wasn't strong enough to see the truth. Only after you… freed me, have I understood what a terrible crime I have committed. I can never justify killing a man that sacrificed everything to serve God. He was my responsibility."

Dean smiled gruffly: "You could kill your own vessel, but not me. Gosh, don't I feel special."

"There's no logical reason why I could not kill you. Naomi had me training for-"

"You were trained to kill me?" This surprised the hunter enough to make him forget his grudge against Castiel, and he finally looked at him properly, stunned.

"Of course. I would never have been able to even hurt you as much as I did without," the ex-angel said guiltily. The blue eyes almost absorbed Dean, and he had to tear his eyes back to the road.

"How long did you train?" he asked quietly.

A picture of thousands of Deans lying dead on a white floor, blood oozing from stab wounds in their torsos flashed before Castiel's eyes.

"For far too long," he murmured. He still remembered how every stab at Dean had felt like a stab to his own flesh. At first he had fought against Naomi, but it wasn't long until he found himself complying her orders, tears in his eyes as he had killed the first handful Deans. But when at last Naomi had walked up behind him looking down at the last Dean he'd killed, and praised his efficiency and said that he was now ready, Castiel had felt empty. He looked at the real Dean sitting beside him and the memory of this Dean gripping his arm tight, looking up at him and calling for him flooded his mind instead. The moment Dean had called him family and told him he needed him.

"Turned out one day in your company gave me strength enough to once again defy my orders," a fond smile found its way to Castiel's lips, "You truly are my weakness – and my strength, Dean Winchester."

At that Dean cleared his throat and moved in his seat, uncomfortably. Castiel watched him struggle to escape what he clearly thought awkward silence.

Finally the green eyes settled on the radio device, and seconds later it was lit. The more or less musical tunes of another song Castiel did not recognize, but of the genre that clearly appealed to Dean, filled the car and pressed against Castiel's eardrums. He had never really given music much thought before, as it had never mattered neither to him nor his missions, but was he supposed to enjoy it now that he was… human? He swallowed at the thought. What did being a human even involve? How did they survive? How high were their durability and their strength? Until now his human form had shown itself inferior in every way to being an angel - depressingly more than expected. He knew humans couldn't fly, but that their ability to run or even move was then not unlimited frustrated Castiel even further.

He had fainted after only 5 hours of running through the forest.

He had probably only survived because of that old man he had met the next morning, who had given him something to drink and eat. It was only when the man had asked; if he had slept in the forest that it dawned on Castiel he had actually been sleeping. For the first time in his thousands years long life he had slept, and he loathed it.

While sleeping you were in no control of anything and completely oblivious to your surroundings and to the time that passed. You were literally unconscious. Though it did happen again the next night, he managed to withstand it until an hour before dawn, leading to him nearly drowning himself in a bog in his tiredness.

And this should be repeated night after night. He had watched the brothers sleep multiple times, but until now he had never fully understood how far away they had been.

The thought that scared him the most about sleeping, though, was that before, he could look out for the brothers while they slept. He could make sure nothing happened to them. Now someone could easily slit Dean's or Sam's throat with Castiel lying right next to them, and he wouldn't find out until he woke up.

Castiel had been tired for hours now. He refused to let himself sleep, though. Not until he could postpone it no more and would collapse, like the previous nights. Maybe if he trained he could get his body used to only a few hours of sleep every second day or maybe less.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Dean began drumming softly on the wheel as a new song began, and Castiel noticed with a small smile he was humming along, too. His friend seemed to have forgotten he was there or maybe he hadn't noticed what he was doing. Either way Castiel found he enjoyed seeing Dean so relaxed and comfortable. Suddenly Dean stopped, sent his passenger a quick glance and straightened in his seat, composing himself.

Castiel didn't look away from Dean, silently hoping he would do it again.

"What?" Dean asked after a moment under the fallen angel's silent gaze, annoyance back in his voice.

Castiel just smiled at the slightly flushed man; "Don't stop because of me."

Dean's eyes flashed to Castiel. He cursed under his breath and shook his head.

A yawn finally managed to push itself out of Castiel, and he found himself stretching in his seat. The warmth of the car and the new, quieter song seemed to try to force Castiel's subconsciousness to surrender to his tiredness.

"How long until we arrive?" he asked drowsily, fighting to brush it off.

Dean looked at him, understanding evident in his eyes.

"There's still two hours left. Just go to sleep,"

Castiel wondered why Dean seemed so concerned for his well being all of a sudden. "I don't need to sleep."

"Cas, you're not an angel anymore, you need sleep."

Maybe Dean found his company strenuous?

"I refuse to."

"Why?" the hunter asked tiredly.

His passenger hesitated. He knew his reason would seem idiotic to Dean, "I don't like being unconscious." As the words left his mouth he could hear exactly how stupid and childish he sounded, "I wouldn't be able to prevent if something happened." I wouldn't be able to protect you.

"Nothing's gonna happen, Cas," Dean said, still annoyed with him, but there were also a spark of reassurance in his voice, and Castiel could almost hear the unspoken I'm here.

Blue eyes were boring into the side of Dean's skull, but they finally closed and Castiel's head tilted towards his shoulder.

…

As Dean put the Impala to a hold, the sleeping man in the passenger seat woke up with a jump. They'd parked outside the bunker. Once again he was baffled by the speed which with time flew when he was sleeping. Wordlessly they moved into the underground lair.

Kevin's head shot up as Dean stepped into the library.

"Dean. Jesus, where have you been?"

Dean didn't manage to answer before Castiel stepped in behind him, looking around the room with familiareyes. Though he hadn't lived long in the bunker before his fall, the mere sight of his only two friends looking safer and more comfortable than ever and all their stuff casually lying around had made the place into more than just a hideout.

Castiel instantly noted that the young Asian had now joined his research work to Sam's in what had more that less turned into their study.

When his eyes finally rested on Kevin, the prophet seemed suspicious, and -despite his efforts to hide it- quite nervous. Castiel's brows furrowed as he contemplating stared at the boy.

"Your mistrust is unfounded. I can assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," he stated, holding his hands up in what he knew was a sign of non-aggression.

Kevin was apparently not reassured: "Yeah, I bet, unless I'm not able to reread an entire tablet in a few hours,"

Castiel suddenly understood Kevin's hostility towards him. Last time they met he had pushed him against a wall, threatening him to read the angel tablet again.

"You were being unreasonable and selfish. You held the fate of everyone in your hands and you refused to help u-"

"I did not refuse to help you. What you demanded was just insane!" Kevin shrieked defensively.

"Shut your fucking cakeholes! Both of you." Dean bellowed, making Kevin shrink a bit, but Castiel didn't even blink as Dean's angry eyes gleamed at him.

After a few seconds Dean's resolution seemed to falter and he cast his eyes downwards, suddenly looking a bit… lost? He seemed to shift between hating the ex-angel and being humble towards him. Castiel stared at him, trying to solve the new mystery, but as Dean opened his mouth to speak again, footsteps were suddenly hearable from the hall at the other end of the room.

Sam entered the library, rubbing a hand across his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that he seemingly had pulled on in haste. He had clearly just woken up.

"Can you just-" he started but then removed his hand and finally looked at the gathering. "Cas." He exclaimed.

"Hello Sam,"

"How did you- I mean- What happened? We thought you were dead,"

Castiel glanced at Dean, who didn't meet his eye, and then with a sight began retelling his last couple of days. They sat down as he explained. He also told about the woman behind the counter at the bar, who had charged his phone for him, and added: "She told me she'd given me my number, if I needed help with anything else," This made Sam laugh spontaneously and Dean snorted with an upward twist of his lips.

When he was done, Sam said: "You must be exhausted."

"I've had a few hours of sleep today, I should be fine," he lied, not meeting the eyes of his friend.

"Oh come on," Dean complained, making a face. They turned to him, "Don't treat him like that, Sam,"

"Like what? A friend?" Sam seemed to instantly know what Dean was on about, and determined to not give his brother what he wanted.

"Yes," Dean's eyes flashed.

"But he is, Dean, okay. So just forget about your bitching for a moment and treat him like one,"

"I don't need-" Castiel began, but was instantly cut off by Dean.

"Friends are not supposed to ditch each other like that," Dean now looked directly at Castiel. The spark in his eyes had flamed up to a fire, "You fucking left, Cas. Again, and you only return because you have nowhere else to go. Because you need us to sweep your mess! But guess what; I couldn't give less of a fuck if Metatron ate every freaking soul in Heaven. That's your responsibility! Not ours!"

"What?" Sam stared at his brother, shock in his eyes.

Castiel didn't know how to react: He knew Dean was angry with him for making the angels fall, but he seemed even more furious about the fact that Castiel had left him. Now that he thought about it that always seemed to anger Dean more than anything else he'd done. Last time Dean was angry with Castiel, Castiel had lost the angel tablet, but the human had seemed angrier about the fact that Castiel had not turned to the brothers for help sooner. He had felt betrayed by Castiel. No one had ever counted on him or trusted him so much on a personal level before. Why did Dean?

"What did you mean regarding Metatron, Dean? Is he still in Heaven?" Sam asked urgently, looking back and forth between them.

Dean scowled at his younger brother, displeased with the interruption.

"Yes, we believe he is," Castiel answered quietly, "As I told you, it was a spell he made and not trials, so I suspect he made it so he was not affected." He tried to ignore the way Dean just stared at the carpet, mouth pressed into a thin line and hands clenched at his sides.

"That's not good, right? I mean, you said he could take control of the souls,"

"Yes, if Metatron's alone in Heaven he holds all the power it possesses. Therefore as I've told Dean, we have to remove him," Castiel pressed on.

"Okay," Sam just said. Castiel was struck silent with awe at the simplicity of Sam's friendship, smiling softly. The fallen angel's betrayal had maybe been even greater towards Sam, but the tall hunter seemed to forgive him so easily. Nothing was ever so simple with Dean.

"We have another problem, Sam," Dean said. He looked almost nervous, not looking directly at his brother. Sam furrowed his brows, knowing something was wrong.

The fallen angel eyed him silently. He could easily see the interior struggle Dean had, not knowing how to tell his brother what Kevin had told him earlier. The prophet himself seemed to not know if he should help Dean and deliver the bad news himself.

"You're dying, Sammy," Dean said at last.

"What?" Disbelieved Sam stared at his pained brother.

"Kevin found out about it earlier this night; apparently you're sick, and only the purest angel can save you." Castiel added. At first Sam looked a bit reassured, but as he remembered the latest incident, his eyes got round and his mouth a bit slack.

"That's why we need Metatron alive. He is the only angel left, and the only one that can help you – we hope,"

Kevin looked thoughtfully at Castiel; "That's worth a try, I guess."

"You don't know if it will work?" Sam asked worriedly.

Kevin merely shrugged apologetic.

"How long do I have?"

"I didn't say on the tablet. I think it's different from person to person. How strong you are mentally,"

"Mentally?" Sam spurted. "What kind of illness is this?"

"It's not a medical illness," Castiel explained, "images conjured by Hell will slowly drive you insane and thus rip your soul from your body," Dean sent him a haunted look.

"So a mental Hell will drive me nuts, and drag my soul… to Hell?"

"No," said Dean defiantly, "I will not let that happen, you know that, Sammy."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but something about Deans resolution seemed to calm him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you know how to get into Heaven?" Kevin asked, looking round at them.

None of them said anything. Sam looked thoughtfully ahead, his arms resting at the great oak table, flicking a pen between his fingers. Castiel just looked at Dean; the man was exhausted, and even that made the newcomer feel guilty. Dean seemed to sense his gaze, for he suddenly returned it. His face became completely impassive, not giving anything away anymore. Castiel knew that whatever he said to apologize would not be good enough, but he'd be damned if he at least didn't try.

"Dean, I truly am sorry - for leaving you,"

Something shifted in the green gaze; if it was a good or a bad sign Castiel could not tell.

The contact broke when Sam cleared his throat and got up from his chair, gaining their attention.

"I won't drop dead tonight, so I think it's better if we just go to bed," the tall Winchester said, "Cas, you can take the same room as before."

Dean looked reluctant but got up anyway. They left the library.

"Hey," Dean said, turning to Castiel. The shorter man looked at him quizzically, "you should take a shower. Third door on your left. Towels under the sink."

And with that and a nod to his brother Dean went to his room, closing the door behind him. Castiel, Sam and Kevin looked after him. Only after the door closed, did Sam quietly say: "He'll come around soon enough," he looked Castiel up and down and added with a grin that didn't truly reach his eyes: "but he's right, you know. You'll ruin your bed if you don't."

A few minutes later Castiel stood in the bathroom and stripped out of Dean's clothes. The reflection in the mirror above the sink caught his attention. Curiously he slowly turned around in front of it, examining the bruised and smeared up body. It suddenly occurred to him that it was his body now. The enormous, powerful angel, the warrior of God, the protector of Earth and Heaven he had always been was now gone. He was no more than what could be seen there on the wall. The acknowledgment tore at him, and he had to squeeze the sink tightly to suppress the ache in his chest and throat, sobbing a few times before he finally managed to control his shaking body. He looked up again; meting the stare of his own sunken eyes. He moved a hand across his newly grown beard covering the lower half of his face, making him look ragged, before he moved it to his greasy hair and plugged out a twig. Considering, he rolled it between two fingers for a bit, before dropping it in the sink and rummaging through the cupboards. He soon found shaving equipment. He had never done this before, but he had seen Dean do it multiple times the year he had lived with Lisa. With care he shaved himself. It pricked a little.

He gave his body one last reluctant look - eyeing the relatively insignificant muscles of his chest and arms, before he moved to the shower.

10 minutes later he wrapped a towel around his waist, collected his things and moved to his room. He lay down chest first on the floor - his toes pressed into the carpet and placed his hands beside his shoulders. Carefully slowly he pressed his hands down, lifting himself from the ground. When his arms were fully stretched, he slowly sank back down till his chest almost touched the ground. Then he repeated the movement. He counted 18 before his arms stopped obeying him. He finally went to bed, the knowledge that he would not let himself become useless, calming him.

There you go, hope you liked it. :D

I'm not sure how often you expect this updated, but my excuse if you think this chapter has taken me too long, is that I'm currently planning to move to another country (requires a lot of my attention) and I'm on holiday in Italy and our wi-fi is… well, non-existing. I'm sitting on someone else's doorstep right now.