A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's followed, favorited, and reviewed! I'm so glad you're excited about this story. Also thank you to Cruelest Sea, whom I can't msg, for reviewing and favoriting. And Guest. Yes, I promise a happy, hopeful ending! ^_^ Btw, did the past four days seem to drag by for anyone else? Feels like it's been more than a week since I posted Chapter 1. Uy.

More lines from 11x23 Alpha and Omega; they're not mine.

Chapter 2

Dean pulled the Impala up outside the bunker and turned the engine off. He didn't remove the keys from the ignition, though, or start to get out. There was a mountain of grief climbing in his chest, and it would only get worse when he walked through that door.

Sam was a silent statue in the passenger seat, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap. He'd been smiling like a friggin' idiot when he'd picked up Dean, and it wasn't like Dean could contain his sheer relief and joy at seeing his brother again, either. But the closer they got to the bunker, the more it sunk in that they were missing a crucial component to their family reunion. The world was saved yet again. But instead of a victory celebration, they'd be attending a funeral.

Sam rolled his shoulder. "I kinda thought God would…" He trailed off miserably.

Dean's chest constricted. "Yeah, me too. He and Amara disappeared before I could ask." He'd been hoping, so hard. After all, how many times had God brought Cas back before? Dean thought, in the brief moment after Amara had healed him, that Chuck would do it again.

But apparently he was too busy working things out with his sister to remember the angel that had sacrificed himself in every way possible in order to help them succeed.

Sam glanced out the window at the door, then back at Dean, voice soft and commiserative. "He's waiting for us."

Right. Waiting for Sam and Dean to take care of his body. Angels didn't have souls that could become ghosts like humans, so they didn't really have to worry about burning the body. But Cas was family, and he should have a hunter's pyre. And…and Dean would take his best friend's ashes to where their mother was buried. It was peaceful there, and he hoped Cas would like it.

Except, angels didn't have an afterlife, and there was nothing left of Cas to care what they did with his empty shell.

Dean shoved his door open and climbed out. Sam followed. The old bunker door grated open with a metallic creak as they entered. Over the years it had become a familiar, comforting sound, the sound of home. Today, though, it felt dark and ominous.

Dean descended the stairs with heavy steps. He didn't really want to go to the dormitory wing yet. Maybe, maybe if he kept putting it off, God might remember, might come back, just for a second…

A figure emerged from the library, and Dean came to an abrupt stop. He felt his mouth drop open in stunned disbelief, and for a moment wondered if his brain was playing tricks on him, taking his deepest, desperate desire and projecting it because reality was just too painful to deal with.

But then Sam sucked in a sharp breath beside him. "Cas?"

Cas stood under the archway, staring at both of them hard. "You're alive."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Us? You're alive!" He surged forward and pulled the angel into the tightest hug, chick-flick moment be dammed. Cas was here and alive and Dean felt that swollen mound of grief pop like a balloon.

He was so friggin' relieved that he almost didn't notice how Cas was rigid in the embrace, how it was a delayed moment before the angel reached one hand up to pat Dean's back somewhat half-heartedly. He pulled away to give Cas a once-over, but then Sam moved in for a hug as well.

Cas did the same thing, standing awkwardly and limply in the embrace. Sam threw Dean a confused look over the angel's shoulder, to which Dean just shrugged. Guy was probably in shock or something.

"What happened with the Darkness?" Cas asked when Sam stepped back.

"Well, she almost killed God," Dean started to explain, and the memory of Cas's wing prints still made his throat tighten up. "And then the sun started dying. But we figured out a way to take her out with a soul bomb."

"I actually have you to thank for that idea," Sam interrupted, offering Cas a small smile. "I remembered when you were collecting souls for power to fight the civil war in Heaven."

Cas's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything, so Dean assumed he was waiting for the story to continue.

"I had to be the bomb because I was the only one who could get close to Amara."

"You sacrificed yourself," Cas put in, voice sounding oddly hollow.

Dean rolled his shoulder. "Well, yeah. But turned out I didn't need to. Amara and God worked things out. She healed Chuck, which fixed the sun, and then the two of them just…went away, I guess." Dean shrugged. "Chuck seemed to think the world would be fine in our capable hands," he added with a wry look.

Sam shook his head in mild amusement before turning back to Cas. "At least he brought you back before taking off again."

Cas still wasn't showing much of a reaction, which Dean thought was a little weird. Also strange was Chuck not saying anything before he left. Or not bringing Cas straight to the park. If Chuck was getting in touch with his family feels again, shouldn't he have had the decency to say goodbye to his own kid?

Dean straightened as a memory echoed in his head.

"Cas was my brother. I need him."

"You gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you."

He swallowed nervously. Oh. "Actually, I think it was Amara."

Sam quirked a confused brow, while Cas just stared at him blankly.

Dean cleared his throat. "She wanted to thank me, for helping her talk to her brother or whatever. I didn't know what she meant at the time…"

Maybe that explained Cas's detached behavior. This resurrection could have been different from the times when it was God's doing, and maybe he needed a bit more time to readjust. But the lackluster response was rapidly dousing Dean's enthusiasm at seeing his best friend frickin' alive again.

"So what now?" Cas finally said. And yeah, he sounded tired.

"Now we have definitely earned a break," Dean replied. He clapped his hands together. "I'm thinking a nice big, deep-fried dinner. And a whole apple pie."

Sam crossed his arms. "You know that isn't everyone's idea of a reward?"

Dean had a retort ready when he caught Cas's eyes dropping to the floor, almost despondently. Maybe they shouldn't drag a newly resurrected Cas out to dinner.

"Why don't we get pizza and stay in," Dean said instead. "Catch up on some movies."

"Sounds good," Sam agreed. "But we're getting at least one vegetarian."

"Tomato sauce qualifies as a vegetable." Dean rejoined.

Sam snorted. "It does not." He pulled his phone out and started walking away to place the order for pick-up.

"Come on," Dean said to Cas. "Let's set up that projector in the library again." He frowned slightly at Cas's silence, but the angel nevertheless turned to follow him. Cas was probably wiped after everything. They all were. Which was why they were gonna take some time to recoup.

For once, the world wasn't ending, and they were all together. Everything was good.

Castiel sat slumped in a chair as moving pictures flashed across the screen in front of his eyes. The Winchesters had picked some science fiction film to watch, something recent that Metatron hadn't downloaded into Castiel's brain. He wasn't paying attention, though. While he would have liked nothing better than to drown himself in the distraction, the revelation of his resurrection had left him reeling.

Amara—the Darkness—had brought him back. Not God. Which meant this time wasn't a punishment. It was just a curse. His poor misfortune to be constantly thrust back into living, to burden those around him. Particularly the Winchesters. Castiel shouldn't even be here, casting a dark pall across their celebratory recreation.

But he didn't know where he would go instead. He had no wings, no means of transportation. And the idea of climbing those steps to the outside sent his stomach into knots. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, but in the past there had always been some big threat, some cause he could throw himself into with enough force of will. Not this time. And that was probably a good thing, because it wasn't as though Castiel improved matters any when he did try to help.

But he didn't know what he was supposed to do now. He hadn't given any thought to life after Lucifer—hadn't expected it to begin with. Why did this keep happening to him?

A shadow fell over him, and Castiel startled to find Dean standing right in front of him, expression pinched in concern. Castiel realized the room was silent, the movie over and the screen back on the Netflix menu. Sam, sitting on the sofa to his left, was also watching him worriedly.

Castiel rolled his shoulder awkwardly. "Sorry, what?"

Dean's frown deepened. "Are you okay?"

Castiel hesitated to answer, his typical 'I'm fine' disintegrating into ash on his tongue. No, no he was not okay. But that wasn't what Dean wanted to hear.

"Cas…"

He blinked, realizing he hadn't responded. They both looked even more concerned. Burden. Do better.

Dean pulled a chair over. The sound of wood scraping across the floor grated Castiel's ears and made him flinch.

The older Winchester cleared his throat. "You know, I've been so frickin' relieved that you're alive, I didn't think to ask how you're doing. After the whole Lucifer thing."

Castiel shook his head and looked away. "I was just…so stupid."

Dean canted his head. "Yeah, kind of."

"Dean," Sam reprimanded under his breath.

"It's alright, Sam," Castiel responded. "You two have every right to be angry. Lucifer has hurt you both in the past. Sam, you suffered the most under his torment, sacrificed yourself to re-cage him. And I let him out. For nothing."

"No, no, no," Dean rushed to say, and Castiel was surprised at the lack of recrimination in his voice. "You were right, Cas. He was our best shot against Amara. And you stepped up. Sam and I wouldn't have done that."

"Well, it didn't work, and you had to sacrifice yourself anyway."

"It came pretty damn close to working," Dean argued. "And it weakened Amara. We needed that. I just…" He ran a hand down his face. "Lucifer had been walking around for weeks, pretending to be you. And we…"

Castiel lowered his gaze. "I endangered you." The one, unforgivable thing he always managed to do, even when he was trying to save them.

"I was more worried about you," Dean said. "Yeah, everything worked out in the end, but shit, Cas, this was Lucifer. I don't even know half the things he could have done to you."

"He needed my vessel," Castiel countered.

"It didn't have to be you."

"You would never let Sam—"

"We could've found someone else."

Castiel frowned, not quite understanding. Find someone else? Someone…stronger? Someone who could easily replace him.

"I was just trying to help," he offered.

Yet even as he said it, Castiel knew that wasn't the whole truth. He had wanted to help, yes, even though he wasn't strong enough to really offer much. But at the same time, he was just so tired of fighting—of fighting and failing—that he didn't want to continue. Letting Lucifer possess him had seemed like a good way to accomplish both.

"You do help, Cas," Dean said.

In some ways, he supposed. But less and less over the years.

Sam shifted on the couch to sit sideways and face him. "Cas…I know how cruel Lucifer can be. He likes to play mind games…"

"He mostly left me alone," Castiel interrupted. "Well, aside from punishing me for stopping him from hurting you that one time."

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked, and Castiel felt a wave of guilt for having caused the younger Winchester more pain and torment at the hands of the one being he feared most in the universe.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said weakly.

Sam shook his head. "It's okay, Cas. You stopped him." He hesitated. "How'd he punish you?"

"It doesn't matter." With the time Lucifer spent burning through his vessel and corrupting his grace, the brief moment of inflicted torture had been mild in comparison.

"If you wanna talk…" Sam started again.

"There's no need." Castiel rose swiftly, not wanting to dwell on this topic any longer, but his vision blurred and a pulse of pain spiked through his head. He swayed.

"Hey, whoa." Dean surged up to brace his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Castiel pressed a palm to his temple. "I have a headache."

"Wait, what?" Dean's voice rose in alarm. "Are you human?"

"No, but…" Castiel gritted his teeth. "My grace is…weak. Battered, from Lucifer and when Amara ripped him out."

Now Sam was on his feet and standing close. Too close. Was the air growing thinner?

"You mean Amara didn't restore you when she brought you back?" Sam asked, tone sharp and indignant.

Castiel ducked his gaze. Useless. Again. He could never do anything right. Couldn't die right. Couldn't live right…

"Uh," Dean stammered. "I guess she didn't think about it. I mean, she was just learning how to care about creation. She probably didn't realize…" Dean's eyes turned apologetic. "I'm sorry, Cas."

As though it was the Winchester's fault, which it wasn't. Dean hadn't asked for this, hadn't asked to be saddled with a crippled angel yet again.

"I should…" Castiel took a tentative step forward, only to stop. What should he do?

"Yeah," Dean said, as though he knew what Castiel meant to say, even when he himself didn't. "Yeah, you should rest. You want to lie down in your room?"

His room? Oh, Dean must mean the place he'd woken up in. Castiel wasn't sure he wanted to go back in there, though. But it wasn't like there was another option, and so he nodded.

Dean patted his back, and Sam gave him an encouraging, yet wan smile. Castiel could feel their eyes boring into his retreating back as he made his way into the hallway and toward the bedrooms.

Dean regretted that Castiel's grace hadn't been fixed. Castiel supposed he should have felt something similar, but the truth was he didn't think it would have made a difference. Even if his grace had been fully restored, Castiel didn't think it would make him whole. He would always be broken, one way or another. And he didn't know what to do anymore.