Author's Note:

I feel like it took me forever to get back to this, even though its only been a few days! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. I have some very specific plans for this fic, so I'm glad I've already got some of you following along!

Thanks to MAo, Altamiya, RoverGirl, AmySPNfic, SPN Mum, and annburgum for their reviews on chapter 1!

Chapter 2 - And The Cards All Fold

Sam eyed Dean warily as he gulped down a beer, his eyes flashing back to demon black as he finished it.

"I don't feel anything," he griped, scowling at the bottle like it had offended him.

"Dean, you haven't been able to get a buzz off a single beer since you were a teenager," Sam reminded him, feeling uncomfortable now that Dean's eyes were black again. "Don't give up just yet."

Dean smirked. "You encouraging me to get drunk, Sammy? That's gotta be a first."

Sam rolled his eyes, then felt his amusement fade as he stared at his brother cracking open a second beer. Only an hour ago he'd believed that he'd once again lost Dean, only to have him back before he could really even think about what to do next. The whiplash was dizzying, and left Sam with conflicting feelings of grief and relief that he couldn't reconcile.

Putting the beer down, Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "What's that face for?"

"What face?" Sam protested automatically, not aware that he'd even been making a face.

Dean pointed at him with a raised eyebrow. "The face that says you've been thinking too hard about something you don't like."

"Nothing," Sam replied with a sigh. When Dean gave him a very pointed look, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Look, it's just that half of me is still trying to catch up to the fact that you aren't dead anymore. I mean, I didn't even have time to process that you were gone again before you were back. It's just a little disorienting."

Nodding slowly, Dean looked him over for a minute before his eyes snapped to normal again and he stood, gesturing to Sam. "Come here."

"What for?" Sam asked cautiously, giving his brother a suspicious look.

Dean ignored him and pulled Sam into a hug, holding tightly until Sam slowly got with the program and tightened his arms around his older brother. "I'm back, Sammy. Really here, and not going anywhere. We're going to be okay."

Sam nodded against his brother's shoulder and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"All right, back to the task at hand." Dean moved back to the table and snatched his beer up. "If I can get drunk, I'm going to."

Sam cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times, trying to chase back some of the unexpected emotions that were plaguing him. "Okay, well, while you do that I'm going to try and get a hold of Cas."

Dean froze with the beer halfway to his mouth. "Have you heard from him? Is he okay?"

"Not since we made the plan and he and Gadreel left for Heaven," Sam admitted. "I was a little preoccupied with you dying in my arms. Again."

Dean winced. "Sorry about that."

"Uh-huh." Sam cleared his throat again and shook his head. "Anyway, they must have done something, because I saw Metatron flinch like something had gone wrong. I was about to stab him when he vanished, so I'm assuming he went back to Heaven."

"So call him and find out," Dean urged, looking expectant.

"I don't even know if he had his phone on him," Sam admitted as he pulled out his cell. He sighed and hit the speed dial, lifting the phone up and waiting for it to connect.

"Hannah, we need to form a legitimate plan," Castiel attempted to explain, looking pleadingly at the angel who had helped him turn the tide in the battle with Metatron. Now that the scribe of Heaven was locked away, Hannah's support had helped the other angels move to give their support to Castiel as well, which he wasn't sure he wanted.

"We have a plan," Hannah replied calmly. "You will be our new leader." She seemed perfectly content with this solution.

"That is not a plan," Castiel argued. "That is an idea that has been proven foolish on several occasions."

"The past does not define you, Castiel," Hannah chastised him lightly. "You are more than capable."

"While I appreciate the concept," Castiel conceded, "I still think there is a better alternative."

Hannah gave him an exasperated look. "Well, while you think of alternatives, will you at least be our interim leader? Surely it cannot be too terrible to lead us until you find an acceptable substitute?"

Castiel debated the idea for a moment before nodding with a sigh. "That does seem a wise choice," he reluctantly agreed.

"Good, then we have already made progress. Now, perhaps you can tell me what is distracting you?" Hannah asked, eyebrow raised.

Castiel looked up in surprise. "How did you know I was distracted? I thought I was managing to keep my focus reasonably well."

"I am observant, Castiel," Hannah said gently. "What is it?"

Castiel sighed. "I need to call Sam," he admitted.

Hannah frowned. "Why?"

Hesitating, it took Castiel a moment to reply. "Metatron...he told me Dean was dead."

"Oh, Castiel, I am so sorry." Hannah lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, her expression sorrowful.

Surprised, Castiel raised his head to meet her gaze. "Why? You yourself asked me to kill him before you all left to join Metatron."

Hannah immediately looked regretful. "I cannot say I particularly like the man, but he was important to you, and I am sorry for your sake that he is gone."

"Thank you," Castiel replied, grateful. "As you are supporting me, I believe Sam will need my support. Is there anything that must be accomplished with any immediacy here in Heaven, or can I be spared for a few hours?"

"We will be all right, Castiel," Hannah assured him. "I will organize what I can to help make this transition easier when you return."

"Thank you," Castiel said again, before he vanished. He appeared inside the bunker, in the main entry by the library. As he did so, the forgotten cell phone in his pocket began to ring. He rarely used it, so the noise startled him. He flipped it open cautiously. "Hello?"

"Cas? Thank God! We didn't know what happened." Sam's voice sounded relieved, and something in the background made a noise in response.

"Sam, yes, we defeated Metatron. He is now in Heaven's dungeons. Hannah wants me to be in charge, so we shall see what happens next. How are you? I just returned, I am in your library." Castiel explained himself as quickly as possible, wanting to know what had happened on Earth.

"Wait, you're here?" Sam asked, surprised. "Hang on, we'll be right there."

"We?" Castiel asked warily, but Sam had already hung up. That was concerning. If Dean was dead, who was with Sam? If he wasn't dead, had Metatron lied, or had Sam done something foolish?

Footsteps behind him caused Castiel to turn. He saw Sam entire the room first, the tall hunter seeming to relax as he saw that Castiel was indeed in one piece. The concern Sam clearly held for him pleased Castiel, and he returned the younger Winchester's smile in greeting. Then, he saw Dean. Immediately his expression faded to one of shock. "Dean?" He questioned softly.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean greeted him easily. "Made it out of Heaven in one piece, huh? Congrats!"

Still not sure how to react, Castiel settled for moving forward and pulling Dean into a hug.

"Uh..." Dean floundered for a second, tentatively hugging the angel back. "You all right, Cas?"

"Metatron told me you were dead," Castiel informed him in response, tightening his hold.

"Oh." Dean tightened his grip in response, understanding now. "Yeah, apparently I was. Didn't take."

Castiel slowly pulled back, concern reappearing on his face. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"We can talk about it later," Dean dismissed, shifting slightly. "Since when are you a hugger?"

"I learned from Sam that hugs are a good way to express emotion you cannot verbalize," Castiel informed him gravely.

Dean shot Sam a look, and the younger hunter smirked. "Yeah, I can probably take the blame for that."

"What happened, Dean?" Castiel insisted. "I am grateful that you are not dead, but I need to know what happened."

"Well..." Dean trailed off, looking helplessly at Sam. "I'm not really sure how to tell you this."

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, but mouthed, "You have to tell him!"

"I..." Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair, then closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he opened them, revealing the new black that exposed his demon nature.

Castiel visibly started, but did not back away like Dean had been expecting. "How?" He asked, surprise and a kind of fascinated horror mixing in his voice.

"I'm not totally clear on that," Dean admitted. "Crowley kind of made it sound like it was the mark's fault, except that now the mark isn't killing me like it was before, so theoretically now that I'm a demon, I'm less of a homicidal maniac."

Castiel paused and glanced at Sam, who shrugged helplessly. "We met in my endeavor to save you from this fate," the angel murmured softly, his tone almost defeated.

"Hey, Cas," Dean called for his attention, managing to get his eyes back to normal in the process. "This is on me, okay? As far as I'm concerned, you did save me. This is because I decided I needed to be the one to take on Abaddon. I succeeded, but I didn't think about the cost. If I didn't turn into a demon, then I would have either died from the mark or eventually snapped and killed everyone in my path, probably including you and Sam. I'm sure as hell not happy to be a demon, but frankly, I'm thinking things could be a lot worse."

Castiel slowly nodded, taking in the explanation. "I suppose this will be an adjustment for all three of us," he mused. "How do you intend to hunt, now that so many of your tools can do you irreparable damage?"

"Very carefully," Dean shot back dryly.

"There will be no hiding what you are from other demons and angels," Castiel warned him. "I can see your new true face, even know. Oddly, you are not entirely repulsive for a demon. Perhaps that is due to the form of your transition."

"Uh...thanks?" Dean attempted, not entirely sure the comment was a compliment.

"You are welcome," Castiel replied, unperturbed. "Can you see me, now?" He asked curiously.

As soon as he was asked, Dean became aware that if he really focused, there was suddenly a lot more of Castiel to see. He had been seeing the human vessel because that was what he expected and wanted to see, but as soon as he was reminded of his new potential, he became aware of the weak ebb and flow of the grace within Castiel. It seemed to have some limit, which Dean instinctively knew was not as it should be. "I can see that your grace is weakening."

"Yes, well, that is a problem for another time," Castiel dismissed.

"Cas, that's not nothing," Sam interjected. "What will happen when the stolen grace runs out?"

"I will burn out," Castiel admitted.

"I'm not letting you die again," Dean emphasized. "What are we going to do to fix this?"

"Dean, worry about your new nature first," Castiel told him. "I will worry about my grace."

Dean gave Castiel a look that clearly indicated the conversation wasn't over, but he was dropping it for now. "I say we have a celebratory dinner, since we're all alive and everything, play a round of poker to relax, and then we figure out what happens next."

"Not all of us," Castiel said mournfully.

"What?" Dean demanded, startled. "Who died?"

"Gadreel," Sam realized, eyes filled with sudden understanding.

Castiel nodded. "He sacrificed himself to give me the chance to defeat Metatron."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, aware from Castiel's tone that he considered the death of the angel a great loss, though they both still had some very mixed feelings towards the angel.

"Well," Sam finally said, "at least he died doing the right thing."

"Indeed," Castiel agreed. "I believe that is how he wanted to be remembered, rather than for his previous indiscretions."

"I'll try," Sam told him, nodding when Castiel gave him a grateful look.

Dean's eyes flashed black for a brief moment, then back to normal. "I'll think about. I still don't like the guy, but he helped me after I tried to slice his head off, so maybe he wasn't all bad."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean a push towards the kitchen. "If you want a celebratory dinner then you're making it, mister."

"Dean cooks?" Castiel asked curiously.

"Dude!" Dean protested. "Don't make it sound so lame. I make badass burgers."

"I do like burgers," Castiel mused.

"The stove is in the kitchen, dude," Sam said, amused that Dean hadn't yet moved.

"Fine, but if I make dinner, you need to do all the dishes after," Dean bargained.

"Fine," Sam replied.

Castiel watched the exchange with mild amusement. "I do believe that you two have one of the most unique domestic arrangements in the history of humanity."

It was that comment that had them walking down the hall towards the kitchen laughing, able to forget for one moment the complications they were facing, and focus solely on the fact that, for once, the three of them had come out on the other side of a war alive, if not in the same shape they began the fight.