Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.

A series of short excerpts from Castiel's remaining life with the Winchesters, after hunting. Almost certainly AU. Set after Season 7. Close, but no Destiel. Warnings: Scenes of bereavement and indirect references to character death.

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Excerpts from a Life

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New Beginnings

Dean stifled a groan as he came back to wakefulness, his back and neck complaining at the uncomfortable hospital chair and the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in. He rubbed his hands across blurred and bloodshot eyes, laying aside the Vonnegut novel he'd been reading to his brother. Not that Sam liked 'Slaughterhouse 5', he'd always said he hated it, but it had been Dean's twisted idea that it might encourage his younger brother to wake from his coma and bitch at him to read something else.

He gave a start as he noticed Castiel standing silently at the foot of Sam's bed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Cas apologized, as he walked round to the head of the bed on the opposite side to Dean.

"Cas, what're you doing here?" Dean asked, it had been weeks since he'd last seen the angel.

"Attempting to atone for past wrongs," Cas answered, laying his hands on Sam's chest. He stood motionless for a moment, before making a small groan of pain and crumpling to a heap on the floor.

Dean rushed to Cas' help with a wordless cry of alarm.

"I'm fine," complained the angel, pushing aside Dean's help and pulling himself unsteadily to his feet, "He'll be okay now. He should wake soon, but when he does he'll have no memories other than those before his time in Hell. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do."

"Thanks Cas," Dean said, finding mere words inadequate to describe what he was feeling. He raised an arm in an awkward gesture, but let it drop back to his side at the blank expression on his friend's face.

Castiel shrugged and hobbled slowly towards the door.

Dean almost didn't see, so eager was he to turn back to his brother, but good hunters train themselves to notice small details missed by the rest of us.

"Wait. Cas, what have you done to yourself?" Dean asked, his voice thick with emotion. He'd met enough angels in his time to know that the winged beings took such an immense joy in flight that it was a wonder they even knew how to use a door.

Cas stopped, but kept his back to Dean, "I've been banished from Heaven, they won't allow me back."

Dean felt a stab of guilt that his first reaction was a selfish glee that the angel wasn't leaving him for good, "I'm sorry, but you're always welcome to stay with us, y'know."

Castiel turned and Dean was shocked to see tears in his eyes; he'd never seen Cas cry before, "I barely have any angelic ability left now, and even that will fade in time now I'm cut off from the Host."

Dean felt hurt that Cas would think he only wanted him around because he was useful, but then he realized it was his own actions over the past year or so that had probably made the angel think that in the first place.

Sam shifted on the bed, finally rousing from the long coma following his Lucifer-induced breakdown, "Dean?" he called, his voice cracked and broken from the breathing tube and weeks of disuse.

Dean stood with his back to his brother and pointedly took a step towards his friend.

"Cas, it's fine. Please stay. Bobby always used to say that family don't end with blood," he said with a catch in his voice and with that he finally allowed himself to comfort his brother.

"Thank you," sighed Cas, as he dropped into a nearby chair. A moment later he was asleep.

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