A/N: Thank you for all the feedback! Now onto the next chapter which runs parallel to episode 4.21. I'm so sorry for the late update, but all the same I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its affiliates belong to Eric Kripke

It was a longstanding tradition held in common among nearly all peoples of the world, no matter what nationality or culture; a union of individuals that created kinship betwixt them, no matter whether the context was religious, spiritual, or legal- sometimes maybe all three. While some of the common reasons for such of occasion used to involve aspects such as procreation and forming a family or legitimizing sexual relations, since then it fell somewhat from its elevated status to become a topic of great interest only when an Anna Nicole Smith-esque scandal blared across the headlines, or when the bonds of such heartfelt vows were broken and then followed by a bout of squabbling lawyers, served papers, and alimony.

The state of matrimony though, holy or not, was not so much what garnered copious amounts of time and attention as was the ceremony by which it was conducted, namely, the wedding. In Western cultures, many women chose to wear white monstrosities of yards and yards of silk and organza, labeled Vera Wang or Donna Karen, while Chinese brides wore the traditional scarlet cheongsam. It was oftentimes easier for men, who left all the commotion and fuss of color schemes, invitations, and seating arrangements for the women, merely having to show up for fittings and nod their heads in a typical "yes dear" type fashion in instant agreement with their fiancées, soon to be mother-in-laws and wedding planners.

However, what was truly of import at the end of the day, after the organ had sounded the notes of joy and the happy couple had left in a rain of rice and birdseed, after the groom broke glass underfoot to symbolize the continuing sorrow of the Temple in Jerusalem, after the run-through of having something old and new, borrowed or blue- came the honeymoon. And while some vehemently protested the claim, a small part of everyone agreed that the wedding night was what really sealed the deal.

The maid stopped in front of the honeymoon suite, balancing the pile of fresh towels in one hand while reaching out to knock on the door with the other, the customary call of "Housekeeping!" about to leave her lips- when she noticed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging slightly askew on the knob. From within the lavishly decorated chamber came the low murmurs of voices caught up in what could have been a moment passion.

Some of the other members of the staff had been talking about the young man who'd arrived with a dark-haired girl attached firmly to his side, both of them looking somewhat worse for the wear from travel or some other venture. Nevertheless, the youth had been adamant upon having the honeymoon suite, prompting rumors that the two had eloped together and were now on the run from a disapproving father, a rival lover or an overbearing brother but still completely enamored with each other nonetheless. With a fond glance at the band of gold glittering on her own fourth finger and a small smile, the maid passed by on tiptoe, allowing the young lovers inside to revel on in their romance uninterrupted.

"Your appetite's gotten much bigger," Ruby murmured, reaching out a hand and lovingly running her fingers through her companion's thick chestnut hair. Sam lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, silent and unmoving at her touch. "Don't be afraid; it just means that you're getting stronger, that's all." The demon girl propped herself up on one elbow and leaned closer. "Strong enough to kill Lilith. And just in time too, since the final seals are breaking."

At the hunter's lack of a reaction, Ruby touched the underside of his jaw and turned Sam's face toward her, seeking out his gaze. "Hey. Look at me." The faraway dark brown eyes focused upon her and she smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Sam. Don't worry about the angels. Wherever they are, they're too busy screwing the pooch to focus on us, but you- you can finish off Lucifer's first and end it all."

Abruptly, Sam's expression twisted and he turned away from her, facing the wall. Don't worry about the angels. And how exactly was he supposed to do that when he could still feel Castiel's grace pulsating weakly within his grasp before his fingers clenched inwards and reduced it to nothingness, when he could still see in his mind's eye, the barely contained wrath in Gabriel's threatening gaze?

What really ate away at him though, more than anything else, was the clash of emotions he'd heard in his brother's voice when Dean refused to let him explain, refused to listen to any apology he could've cooked up, refused to even look at him. Sam's chest tightened because Ruby was wrong; it wasn't okay, it wasn't alright and the remembrance of the combination of the raw scrape of pain and anger in Dean's voice made that point all too clear.

"I said 'not now', okay Sam?!"

If not then, all the younger Winchester wanted to know was when? When would he be able to reconcile with his brother, to have the other forgive him for what he'd done? Sure, he had been listening half-heartedly to the demon Sunday School story of how Lilith was the first human tempted into becoming a demon and about the lead on her personal chef. Certainly Sam recognized the gravity of the situation, with no more than two or three seals remaining and how close they were to being able to stop the apocalypse itself- but did it matter whether the world burned or thrived if Dean still hated him?

"Oh, Sammy." Ruby rubbed a hand over the hunter's broad shoulders, kneading the tense muscles soothingly. "I know you're hurting and confused, but believe me, all I ever wanted was to help you get Lilith. With Dean… I had no idea things would end up like this."

"He hates me, Ruby," came the barely discernable mumble, full of misery. "I can't undo what I did." I can't bring Cas back. The statement resounded bitterly within his mind and Sam tried not to think about how much it stung that Dean was putting an angel above his own brother- because that was what the elder Winchester was doing, wasn't it?

"But you can take down Lilith." He turned back and Ruby smiled at him encouragingly. "The life of an angel for all of humanity." She shrugged. "I'd say it's a pretty fair trade."

That's not true. "That's not the point."

"You're right, it's not." The demon grew serious and sat up, moving over to straddle Sam; she loomed over him and stared down with the mixed elements of pleading combined with a demand. "Lilith has more than a couple tricks left up her sleeve but she's scared, and she's desperate. The point is that there isn't a more perfect time to act." She grinned. "Sooner or later, the bitch is going to land herself into something even she can't get out of…and that mistake is going to cost her."


The restaurant was dark and empty, the diners having left long ago, followed by the world-renown culinary team working in the kitchens and finally the front of the house and staff, leaving only the dapper solitary figure sitting in the back corner of the spacious room, face turned toward the window. The flames of the candles on the table threw dancing shadows upon Robert St. James's features as the man stared contemplatively out at the twinkling lights of the city's nightlife below.

Fingers closed around the stem of the half-filled wineglass sitting next to its rare, vintage bottle that sat on the table alongside the candles; Belial lifted the flute to his lips just as twelve chimes sounded out from above with a near ominous air, as if heralding a great presence that remained unknown. The demon smirked though, unafraid; he anticipated what would happen next and started a mental countdown: In five, four, three-

The French double doors of the eatery were massive in height and weight, having been carved by a team of ten woodworkers with a variety of tools and an eight month time limit; now they swung open like the cardboard doors of little children's playhouses, banging against the walls with such force that the delicate lights suspended from the ceiling shook and the glasses hanging in the rack along the bar shuddered, some fell and shattered against the marble floor.

Belial pursed his lips, annoyed. Always have to make entrances of epic proportions, don't they? Fixing a benign smile on his face, the demon stood halfway, calling out toward the shadowed figure standing upon the threshold. "Dear, might I remind you that this dining establishment has a formal dress policy?"

A bolt of lightening touched down from the near-cloudless night sky, flashing upon a slim figure whose Hispanic features framed by chocolate locks, though striking, held no compare to the fierce intensity so clearly displayed there, drawing straight eyebrows toward each other and making dark eyes glint silver. The young woman advanced forward with a powerful presence; tables and chairs in her path instantly flew out of the way toward opposite sides of the room, slamming into the walls.

The lord of lies would have been deceiving himself if he claimed that the slightest of cringes had not passed through his meat puppet's frame, but Belial kept his composure, sitting back down again and raising an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Gabriel." A smirk broke though the demon's bored expression. "Surprised to see me?"

"I condemned thy wicked soul to the depths of the eternal fire until the Day of Judgment," Gabriel got out brusquely, snapping off each syllable bitterly. Both otherworldly beings knew the words of the next unspoken inquiry- how had the demon defied the will and might of an archangel, eluding captivity from the bowels of Hell?

Long fingers fitted around the flute tapped lightly against the glass, playfully. "Well, I've been doing just wonderful my good sir, how gracious of you to ask. And yourself? I see you've switched meatsuits." Belial tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly in disapproval. Although the suit the angel donned was certainly comely in its own right, it just didn't suit the demon's… preferences. "No accounting for taste though, really."

The archangel stopped at the table, standing there stiffly, glaring down and Belial kicked back leisurely with a sly grin. What's this? He could sense the emotion radiating off the other in waves, so deeply felt and potent that anyone could have reached out to grasp it: the anger and disgust- but most of all, the guilt. He could tell he didn't have to do much to push Gabriel's buttons; everything was already out in the open, still raw and hurting. The demon's grin widened. What fun this shall be. "And how have you been, Gabriel, you old sport? My, you look terrible. How's the family?"

There was no response save for a deep inhale, like the other was making a valiant attempt to stay calm. Belial was not discouraged with the lack of a response though; although demons bore the reputation of being as quick-tempered as an adolescent girl at that time of the month, he was more patient than most. As the archangel stood still, trying to retain the quickly crumbling front of strength and a stoic nature, Belial went in for the kill. "How's Castiel?"

BANG.

Before the final phoneme left his lips he was on the floor, back flat against the cool marble as a booted foot positioned its arch right over his windpipe. The table Belial had been sitting at no more than half a second ago was now haphazardly upturned and at the far side of the restaurant, magnificent teak reduced to splinters of wood. Gabriel made no efforts to disguise his inconsolable emotions this time around, if the archangel's swift and harsh reaction was any indication; the archangel was a heartbeat away from crushing the other's trachea as a deadly hiss of a threat flew from his lips. "You dare to speak of my brother?"

"Ah, I see," Belial chuckled. Though the action proved somewhat difficult, the demon made no move to strike back or even defend himself. "Dear little Cas…" he murmured, reminiscing of crimson trails snaking down its torn, pale canvas, of the tart taste of fear, and of the salt of the angel's tears. "He's still as fuckable as ever, yes?"

Anyone and everyone within a ten-mile radius of Robert St. James's restaurant stopped to gape up at the sky as, in less than an instant, all stars were hidden from sight by black clouds. Although thermostats registered a mild sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit, streams and spouting fountains froze solid; all the water from swimming pools completely evaporated into thin air and the moon concealed its beauty from a spontaneous storm of every single type of condensation as it raged- sleet, snow, rain, hail, swirling together and blasting furiously all over the landscape. However, despite all these signs of supernatural occurrences, none of it compared to the sound of a roar of outrage that could not have come from the mouth of any creature upon God's green Earth.


He watched the tall, broad-shouldered frame round the corner, the other was completely unaware of his presence and truth be told, Dean wasn't sure if he wanted things to stay that way or not. And what was this cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that made itself known upon seeing the familiar features? Disgust, that his brother had more or less thrown everything away for some demon bitch? Fear, that this hulking stranger lumbering away from him would never again be the Sammy he once knew? Or perhaps the most justified explanation was anger, anger for the chasm between the two of them because of Ruby and her scheming ways. For what happened to Cas…

The hunter's jaw set tightly and his fingers curled around the hilt of the demon-killing blade as he slipped into the room noiselessly, heat rushing to his face as soon as he caught glimpse of the demon girl's back; Dean raised the dagger high above his head, ready to end her once and for all-

Ruby twisted around and deflected the wild swipe with her arm so that it slit through the leather of her sleeve instead of piercing through to the heart and, reflexively, she grabbed both of Dean's arms, trying to force the knife away from her. She found herself staring into a pair of determined hazel green eyes that was slowly shifting into a blazing emerald and threatening to burn a hole in the center of her forehead as demon and hunter struggled against each other.

To the casual observer Dean might have only seemed beyond angry, but as a demon, Ruby could sense so much more emotion radiating from him; she could perceive the ammonia of guilt-ridden, murderous intent along with the reek of shame. "What's wrong, Dean?" she asked sweetly, though still straining. "You're not still sore about losing your angel, are you?"

Losing your angel… Dean saw nothing but hazy red for an instant and in a burst of inhuman strength, he shoved Ruby back against a wall, hard. Wrenching his hand free from the demon's grasp, he drove the dagger downwards through the air and the smirk slid away from Ruby's face; she opened her mouth to emit a shriek- "SAMMY!"

"No! Let her go!" A firm grip closed around his fist, prying his fingers from the dagger handle and Dean found himself being shoved away as Sam stood between him and the demon girl, holding a hand out in a placating manner. "Just… take it easy," the younger Winchester huffed, protectively shielding Ruby behind his larger frame.

Ain't that sweet. And here I thought you didn't like being called that, 'Sammy'. Dean didn't know he was biting his tongue until he tasted the copper in his mouth. "What is this?" he bit out, tone dripping with sarcasm. "You come when she calls but I have to drive halfway across the goddamn country to find you?"

"Look, let's just talk about this." Dean wanted to laugh. This was just so like Sam, wanting to talk about a situation that could be rectified with turning around and ganking the bitch behind him. The elder Winchester wanted to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him until his senses finally returned to him- however, he simply replied in as calm a manner as he could.

"As soon as she's dead, we can talk all you want."

Sam backed up a step, keeping his eyes on his brother but made a motion with his hand. Dean's throat tightened and he resisted the urge to throw his clenched fists into the nearest object- that would be his brother- as Ruby made a face at him and then turned, running out of the room. He couldn't hold it back anymore; as soon as the door banged shut, Dean let loose the desperate shout building within his chest. "She's poison, Sam!"

The younger Winchester tried to appear both persuading and understanding at the same time, but it wasn't working. "It's not what you think, Dean-"

"Look what she did to you!" He burst out, cutting the other off. "What, she ups and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit?" Not to mention turning you into a- Dean cut off his train of thought right then and there, because he didn't want to even let that possibility brush the corner of his mind.

"She was looking for Lilith!"

"Yeah? And what about the part where she had you ripping an angel open like a hunk of raw meat? She helping you look for Lilith in Cas's back?" Sam flinched at the words that his brother flung at him and Dean gritted his teeth in exasperation. Don't look guilty; I don't want that from you right now. I just want you to realize what you're turning yourself into! " 'Looking for Lilith'," he muttered incredulously. "Sam, that's French for 'manipulating your ass ten ways from Sunday' and you know it; why the hell are you lying to yourself?!"

"Just…listen." Sam could feel his face flushing in shame but he tossed the dagger onto the bed, gesticulating half-heartedly as if he could somehow make Dean see that he was doing this for him. Because the angels were wrong, because Dean wasn't strong enough to take on Lilith, because this was what had to be done. "Just listen, for a second." I'm being practical here. "We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean." His tone was pleading and earnest because at least his brother wasn't refusing to look at him this time. Maybe, just maybe Ruby was right; perhaps he could make up for what happened to Cas by achieving what the angel had been working toward- preventing Lucifer from rising. "We'll do this together."

Come with us. That sour taste was back in his mouth again. Dean breathed hard. "That sounds great." Except when did 'us' become you and Ruby? Sam's eyebrows were lifting in an expression of disbelief at having convinced the other so easily, but Dean wasn't finished. Not so fast. "As long as it's you and me. Demon bitch is a deal breaker." The eyebrows were furrowing, the hope fading fast. "You kiss her goodbye, we can go right now."

"…I can't."

The two words cut deeper than Dean expected. I can't. He turned away with a grimace, struggling to keep all of his conflicting emotions in check, inhaling deeply. Can't what, Sam? Or is it because you don't want to?

"Dean, I need her. To help me kill Lilith."

Oh yeah, that's a great reason. You went to Stanford, were going to be some big hotshot lawyer, and that's the best you can come up with? Dean exhaled, fixing his eyes on the polished wooden floor, at the stairs leading up to the bed's platform, stared at all the cheesy little romantic details because he didn't want to hear any more of the garbage Sam was spouting. The lies his brother actually seemed to believe. It's bullshit. You don't need anything from the demons, Sam.

"Look." Sam was staring at his brother's back and he could feel the annoyance beginning to overtake the initial relief and cautious happiness at seeing Dean again. I'm the only who can do this! "My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots. And I trust you, because you are my brother." There was a lump in his throat now, threatening to make him choke on his words. The venom in Dean's voice when he dragged up what had happened with Castiel, the accusation in his gaze- and Sam could remember once when such fire would never have appeared in Dean's eyes save for upon the occasion if anyone was stupid enough to threaten the younger Winchester. Oh, he knew what it meant and damn it, it hurt.

Was it his fault he hadn't been able to find a way to reverse Dean's contract, was it his fault that he hadn't been the one to pull his brother out of Hell? "Now I'm asking you for once- trust me." Sam implored and searched the other's eyes beseechingly when Dean turned around. Ikilled Alastair when they left you to fend for yourself, I know that you're not as strong as you used to be while the angels keep wanting more from you, and excuse me for not being a soldier from Heaven, but I think that me being your brother should mean more than some angel!

He could already see the reply in Dean's tight features though, in the downward turn of the lips and weary resignation in the slight lines at the corners of the hazel green eyes as the other gave his head a simple shake- "no"- and something inside Sam's mind blew out. "You don't know what you're doing, Sam."

"Yes, I do!"

Sam was starting to raise his voice now and Dean read exasperation in his brother's brief eye roll, tense shoulders, and strained voice. What he saw set him over the edge and he was sure he never wanted to punch Sam as much as he did right then and there. It wasn't guilt or embarrassment anymore, it was annoyance, as if what Sam was saying was as plain as the nose on his face and trying to explain it to Dean was just to frustrating to bear. "Then it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are!" It means you don't think it matters that you're sucking demon blood or that you've become Ruby's bitch; it means that you don't give a damn that you ripped an angel's grace out of his body and not just any angel, but Cas- "It means that-" He stopped, hot tears starting to spring to his eyes because of who he was staring at right now, at what his pain in the ass little brother had become.

"What?" Sam snapped, his eyes glistening suspiciously. You wouldn't. "No." But the remorseful look on Dean's face, as if the elder Winchester was apologizing for something, was too much. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply; the fingers of both his hands were curling in toward his palm. "Say it." It was a hiss of a challenge, dangerous bait. A dare.

"It means you're a monster."

Sam's head snapped to the side with the words and he stared hard at the ground. A moment passed and vaguely the thought crossed Dean's mind that maybe, just maybe he had gotten through to his brother-

The hard cross caught him directly across the jaw and he stumbled from the force, running into the corner of the bed before crashing to the floor. Stars flashed across his vision for a moment and Dean could hear his brother breathing hard. "I'm a monster because I killed Castiel, is that what you think?" Sam spat as the elder Winchester slowly put an arm out to brace himself as he got to his feet. "Well damn you Dean, goddamnyou and your precious angel because I'm glad he's gone."

Glad he's gone…The words rung in his ears. Dean steadied himself, faced the other wordlessly, and let his fist fly into the face of the monster standing before him.


"Good evening, brother."

Gabriel was an archangel. He did not startle easily, and there was very little that could shock the Lord's messenger- but standing there, watching Belial climb to his feet and dust himself off with that pompous little smirk of his as none other than Zachariah stood defensively before him after having extracted the demon out of the way of a most certain death… Marie's brown eyes went a bit wide, yes.

"Zachariah," he intoned evenly, facing the somewhat heavyset corporate-looking businessman the other angel was possessing. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Peace, Gabriel," Zachariah began, spreading his hands open in a gesture of benevolence. "An agent was needed to draw the Lord's messenger out of-"

"There has been conferment with the servants of Lucifer?" Gabriel's tone held the sharp click of a key in a lock; his voice though, was soft and with a deadly calm. The archangel took a step forward. For the first time in a long time, his vessel's face was completely blank, emotionless. "Thou hast gravely sinned against the Father."

The other's pleasant features wrinkled at the accusation. "No need to pass judgment. Now, it's simply the way of Heaven." Zachariah chortled as the archangel blinked rapidly, the only indication of his stupefaction. "Yes, things back home are far different from what you remember."

The fragments of the bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti lay among the other shards of broken glass, letting the fine wine seep its way into the carpet; a drop of the fermented grape juice fell from an upright sharp piece of debris, plinking against the polished floor and only slightly louder than Gabriel's astonished whisper of a charge. "You lie."

"No, that's my niche," Belial called out with a suave grin while adjusting his cuff links and straightening his necktie. Being the one who stood at God's left hand usually meant that one was privy to everything that was to be orchestrated, both in Heaven and on Earth. Even at the beginning of time, the Lord's messenger was one of the first to know of the rebellion against God; it was he who blew the trumpet calling the faithful into battle. Naturally then, it was quite amusing to see Gabriel dumbfounded and at a total loss. And now let's see how he takes it when the truth is revealed. The demon smirked to himself, leaning back against the wall to enjoy the show. Quality entertainment, this is.

"It was instrumental to have you out of the way Gabriel, that much was certain from the very beginning." Zachariah spoke smoothly, with a crooked grin that made him seem more like one of those perpetually incorrect weather forecasters than an angel wrapped in human flesh. "Not just because of your unwavering service to God and the actions you would have undoubtedly taken against us, but also because of your extraordinary influence upon all of our kin."

"Us?" Gabriel echoed, still in disbelief. "How many have you led astray, Zachariah?"

"They all look up to you," the other continued as if Gabriel had not spoken. "And here we were wondering just how Castiel learned to be so steadfast of spirit, so strong of will." Zachariah's grin tightened, like someone had screwed it in place and it was now growing stale. "To think that he learned it all from the older brother he so admired. Of course it was imperative that God's messenger was far away from where conversion was taking place, and we arranged for it to be so."

"It was imperative to ensure…instrumental to have you out of the way…captured Castiel…the matter has already been taken care of, Gabriel…" Rage was defined by man as violent, uncontrollable anger, which arose spontaneously in response to a stressful or frustrating situation. The Oxford Dictionary listed anger as being a strong feeling of displeasure, annoyance, or hostility- yet the archangel's reaction upon this new realization was indefinable, an emotion no man could experience or ever want to understand. "You delivered Castiel into the hands of evil for the breaking of the seal."

Zachariah's words resounded within his mind and Marie's hands were suddenly shaking, the fingers bending inward to form fists and any of the wineglasses along the bar that had been spared upon Gabriel's entrance now shattered apart; ceramic plates in the kitchen broke as if colliding with rocks over the edge of a cliff and the sink faucets exploded, water within the pipes hissing out in the form of steam. You sent my brother down into the Pit, set the demons upon his charge and led Samuel Winchester to break his will for the sake of ensuring my absence from Heaven?!

"You're wondering, 'why Castiel?'" Zachariah said, clasping his hands in front of his round belly and chuckled, not at all perturbed by the staggering, intense, unnamable emotion the other was exuding. "Simply everyone knew you would react exactly the way you did, Gabriel, leaving your post to descend to Earth all for your little brother. Not to mention that Castiel knew far too much." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's alright though, now I have personally made sure that Castiel now knows how to obey."

This is just too comical. Belial shook in silent laughter at the flurry of emotions flying across the young Latina's woman's face but what really killed him was what he could see the archangel displaying; the struggle through understanding and control, disbelief and rage- but most of all, the demon was nearly in absolute stitches because revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.

"Where is my brother." A demand spoken in a voice that was no longer flat or controlled, but shaking with all the turbulence of the Great Flood that once destroyed the world and of the holy fire that would descend from the very mouth of God at the End of the Ages. Zachariah clicked his tongue.

"Castiel, Castiel, Castiel. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha- you needn't worry about him any longer." He nodded up at the ceiling in a welcoming manner. "Just come back home, Gabriel." There was a pause and there came the swift movements of currents of air as more celestial beings arrived, for it was clear that it would take more than mere words or just one garrison of angels to placate the messenger of God. "Don't make things difficult, brother."

Marie's eyes narrowed as Gabriel tensed within the vessel. "I answer to the Almighty and I follow the orders of none but Him alone."

"Is that so?" Zachariah sneered. "And how long has it been since the Almighty spoke to you, brother?" An eternity passed in the next passing second as the words floated out into the air, as the auditory sensations hit the eardrum and vibrated down through the canal for transduction to the nerves carrying the message up to the brain for comprehension and registration. "That's right, Gabriel. You sent your beloved little brother up for discipline upon my order."

This time, Belial really did throw his head back and howl aloud in laughter, roaring at the dawning horror and brokenness in Gabriel's eyes. The demon hadn't much time to enjoy the moment though because as soon as the first cackle left Robert St. James's mouth, he was reeling back and instinctively moving away from the unveiled glory of one seriously pissed off archangel.

"In the name of the Father, I shall deliver your rebellious souls to the realm of the Fallen."

The sound of a great multitude of wings beating filled the interior of the restaurant that suddenly seemed too small as more than a thousand angels swarmed in upon the archangel.


"You don't know me," Sam snarled, face twisted in a caricature of the brother Dean once knew and he was damn sure Sammy would have never wrapped hands around his throat as this man had just done. "You don't know me. You never did, and you never will."

Gulping air back into his lungs, it took nearly all of his remaining strength to gasp out his next words as Sam stepped over his form and toward the door. "You walk out that door… don't you ever come back."

He had no idea how long he lay there, hot tears bursting out past their thresholds and trickling slowly down his face. Presently, there came the sound of feet crunching over broken glass and Dean opened his eyes, hardly daring to hope that Sam had really come back-

The hunter blinked. No. He'd finally lost it. After all these years of hunting and facing down the greatest evils mankind could have ever dreamed of, Dean was sure that he'd now gone insane because there was no way, there was no way he was staring at the beige trench coat and dark blue tie; it was just a mental image of the holy tax accountant coming back as a hallucination now that he'd finally cracked- "Cas?"

"Get up, Dean."

No. Cas is dead. Everything within him was screaming against believing his eyes but Dean painfully pushed himself into a seated position, eyes fixed on the piercing orbs that seemed… different somehow. "How did- what-"

"The Lord called you back from Hell because of what you could do for Heaven." The angel broke in sharply in a flat tone, and Dean flinched because he'd never heard Castiel speak this way before. "It is your duty to stand up and take on that responsibility. Cease this useless indulgence in your own self-pity and pursue the task set out before you."

Speechless, Dean gaped open-mouthed as Castiel turned and walked to the open door and all he could do was call out in desperation- "Cas, wait!"

The angel halted but did not turn, instead casting a short reply over his shoulder. "I learned my lesson when I was away, Dean." Lesson? What lesson? And where the hell is 'away'? "I serve Heaven, not man." Faded sapphire eyes that held nothing but soldierly resolve glared at him and the hunter stared, not knowing who this stranger wearing this familiar meatsuit was, because it sure as hell wasn't Cas. "And I certainly don't serve you."

For the second time that evening the door slammed shut, taking away yet once more piece of Dean Winchester.

A/N: Surprised by the twist on Zachariah's character? I always knew there was something about him that seemed somewhat off; he was far too… smiley. And what in the world have I done to Castiel?! Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out sooner but until then, please drop a review!