A/N: Yeah, I'm actually planning on finishing this. Thanks to a rather depressing experience in rl, this was very easy for me to write. I hope I didn't let emotions get the best of me and this chapter is actually somewhat decent.

I forgot to mention before, but I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just using the characters as my minions to bring out my emotions.


A million things rushed through Dean's mind at that moment. He felt the betrayal sneak in at the base of his spine and curl upward into white-hot anger. If Castiel was still an angel, Dean would have punched him or yelled at him, anything to get across the anger at such a stupid decision. But since he was now basically indestructible, Dean didn't know what he could do to show his anger. So instead, he showed defiance. He wouldn't let this power-hungry freak that destroyed his friend tell him what to do.

Dean looked hard at Castiel. He looked exactly the same, without the curious blue eyes and awkward shyness. Now his gaze was cold and dark, and his stature was confident and overbearing.

Dean's friend was no longer in that vessel. He had been replaced with a monster. So when asked, Dean rejected the thought of ever worshiping this creature that had taken over Castiel.

"I'm sorry, but now I must destroy you." Castiel looked hard at Dean.

"Bring it." Dean wasn't afraid. Somehow the frantic looks that Sam and Bobby gave him made him feel more confident about dying right here and right now for the sake of what he believed was right.

Castiel held up his right hand and held it in front of Dean, and for several moments, nothing happened. Dean looked questioningly at the new god, who merely dropped his hand in response. "I cannot. For the life of me, I cannot murder you." He looked up and Dean swore he could see every single soul swimming in Castiel's eyes.

"Why not?" Dean felt a slight stirring of relief in the pit of his stomach, but he was certain that his death would come eventually.

The god looked down at his feet. "I don't know. But I can only hope that with time, you will change your answer and accept me." He said in a quieter, but still powerful tone.

"It's gonna be tough convincing us to do that, Cas," Sam piped up from somewhere behind the god.

"I know, but I am positive that I will find a way, any way, to make you see me as your new Lord." Castiel vanished into thin air with a loud, staticy crackle.

Dean took several deep breaths and collapsed onto the ground. He had been close to dying for his friend, yet again. Very, very close.


The atmosphere outside was different after that day. The weather was mild, never too hot or too cold, and it seemed like there weren't as many supernatrual things running around, terrorizing people. The Winchesters got to relax a little more when they traveled from place to place and didn't have to drive for as long or nearly as far.

Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, enjoying a beer. It was night and he looked up at the clear, desert sky. He could see billions of stars, and the moon shone like a floodlight. It was perfect. Too perfect. 'I wonder if this is really Cas' doing, or maybe I'm just imagining things. I haven't seen bad weather in months...' Dean thought to himself.

"Hello, Dean." An unfamiliar yet unmistakable voice said behind him.

"Cas." Dean relied. He turned to see what appeared to be his friend, who had dark circles under his eyes and an unhealthy shade of pale. "Woah, man, what's up with you? You look awful," Dean spat out without thinking. "No offense," he added at the end.

"I am perfectly fine. I haven't changed at all. Why do you ask?" The god replied instantaneously .

Dean looked away from Castiel's penetrating stare. "No reason. How's the business going upstairs?" He wondered if it was any different that it was before Purgatory was drained.

"I have finally destroyed all of the angels that had sided with Raphael. They didn't put up much of a fight." His reply seemed a little too smooth.

"Ah. Well, he was probably a sucky leader anyways." Dean chuckled without humor.

"Indeed. They didn't even know he was gone." Castiel smiled one of his rare smiles. Even now, while he was a god, his usually stoic face looked strange with a smile, if not better.

"Are you the one who's controlling the weather?" Dean couldn't resist asking, "'Cause it's a little too perfect no matter where Sam and I go."

"Yes, I'm still getting used to the mechanics of weather, but I'm trying my best." He shrugged.

Dean smiled. "Well, I'm sure it's a difficult job, what other sorts of things do you get to control?"

Castiel shook his head. "I cannot tell you that, but I can do many things with this power." He said it with such nonchalance that Dean just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The god blinked and faded into a gentle breeze that swept over the desert.

Dean finished off his beer and chucked the bottle away as far away from him as he could.


Sam and Dean decided to revisit an old diner near Bobby's that they used to go to with their father as a kid. They had a pleasant meal and sat at the table afterward, completely full and sated.

Neither of them noticed the third presence at the table until Sam leaned onto his elbow and found an arm underneath it. Both men jumped.

"Geeze Cas, you're even more sneaky now, you could have-" Dean cut off his sentence when he looked at what used to be his friend.

The dark circles under Castiel's eyes had grown and changed to a purplish hue, and the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes had grown more pronounced. "I apologize, I just wanted to check up on you and your faith." His voice even sounded old and deteriorated.

Sam shook his head and muttered, "I don't think either of us will bow down, Cas. It's just not right."

Castiel wore a sarcastic grin. "Not right? What isn't right about it?"

"All of it," Dean snapped. "Besides the fact that you deliberately did what I said you probably shouldn't do just to prove to me that you're the smarter one, you obviously can't see what it's doing to you. Just look at yourself, Cas! You look like you've aged fifty years in the past few months!" Dean's voice had grown from a harsh whisper and into a shout, and other people in the diner glanced over at the unwraveling scene.

"Dean, I am fine, nothing is-" his speech was cut off by Sam who smacked his hand against the already weak diner table.

"Cas, no. You are not fine," Sam stated flatly. "Almighty Lord or not, these souls are too strong for you or something, because your vessel is starting to show it." Although he kept his voice low, his eyes mirrored Dean's anger.

Castiel sighed. "I wish you would understand. As I am not human, I do not get the chance to sleep," he looked down at his hands that were folded on the table. "thus, the signs of my stress are more obvious than they would be on a human."

Dean scratched his forehead and sighed. "Sorry for causing a scene, but Cas, I don't like this. I don't like it at all. I miss my friend, my brother." He spoke quieter now, and the eavesdroppers looked away.

"I know Dean, but someday you will understand, and then you'll accept me as your Lord." Castiel sighed, stood up, and walked out of the diner. Dean and Sam made a move to follow, but the god had vanished as soon as he met the outside air.


Sam felt bad for snapping at Cas in the diner. They hadn't seen him since then, and that was a month and a half ago.

"Sam, I'm gettin' worried." Dean said out of the blue one day.

"About?" Sam prompted, but he already knew the answer.

"Cas. The thing going on in Heaven. The world falling to shit because Cas doesn't know what he's doing," Dean left a sharp sting at the end of the sentence. "I just don't think this is gonna turn out okay, Sam. I think somehow, someone's going to end up hurt."

"Look, Dean," Sam scratched the back of his neck, "I'm sorry for getting mad at him, we've been over this—"

"That's not it, Sam, quit blaming yourself. I did it too. I just don't think he's cut out for it and something's wrong, or else he wouldn't be aging so quickly. He's a.." Dean struggled for words for a moment, "a holy being. They don't age."

Sam thought about this for a moment. "It could just be his vessel." He concluded. "His actual Grace might be fine, but all of the souls could be too stressful for Jimmy's body. Humans aren't meant for carrying around the power of an angel, let alone and angel and millions of souls."

Dean shrugged. "I dunno, man. He obviously won't tell us what's going on because he wants to prove he's still right." Dean looked down at his shoes and rubbed his face.

Sam laid back onto the rather cheap piece of furniture and turned on the television. It didn't seem to turn on, so he tried again. Upon several attempts, the outlet that it was plugged into decided to spark and catch fire.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks and put out the small fire before it could get any worse. A soft thump landed outside of their motel room, and Dean stepped toward the door with caution and opened it slowly, prepared for anything.

What he wasn't prepared for was Castiel, crumpled and unconscious, laying out on the ground.


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