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A rumble like continuous far-away thunder was his answer, and the sigil light became blinding to look at. Castiel's head snapped back so far that his face was parallel with the ceiling, and two thin yellow lasers drove out of his pupils, unstopping, straight into the glowing Purgatory portal.
"Stop," Castiel gasped, his eyes wide and unable to close.
Bobby was checking on Sam, but Sam just gasped, "Scissors." Bobby groped around on the floor, found a pair of scissors that had obviously been put there earlier, and cut the duct tape blindfolding their prisoner. Sam yanked the tape off and the guy yelled in pain; then a yellow bolt of light shot from his eye and disappeared into the brilliant sigil.
The rumble was a roar. Castiel collapsed. Dean could only break his fall, helping him to the floor while avoiding at all costs the painful thin streams of power blasting from Castiel's eyes. Cas emitted a broken wheezing sound like an old man's. The power wasn't fleeing him fast enough; Dean saw with horror bumps leaping outward and subsiding on the skin of Cas' face, his cheekbones and temples and just below the eyes, glowing yellow, revealing the bones of Castiel's skull.
Dean wasn't going to watch Cas' head come apart. "Sam! Where's the sword?"
Castiel couldn't see, but he heard Dean's demand and raised his arms like a child defending himself. Sam got around the circle, reached under the altar, pulled out the angel-killing sword and, holding the blade, extended the hilt to Dean over the flames.
Cas thought the sword would be stabbed into his heart. His head was swelling and he was beginning to convulse, but he held his arms in front of his chest and said softly, "Dean – why?"
Ducking the fiery beams from Cas' eyes, Dean lay beside the angel, threw his left arm over Cas' arms and chest, sucked in a breath, put the point of the sword to Castiel's left eye, pushed it in and twisted.
A blast of power an inch in diameter roared out of Castiel's empty eye socket, spraying clear jelly and blood and sending the sword flying. Dean covered his head. The entire house shook as power left Castiel twenty times more quickly than it had before, still headed straight for the Purgatory portal.
Castiel screamed. The ceiling in the corner cracked, breaking the devil's trap. Crowley leaped toward the beams of power and tried to yell something Latin, but Sam blocked his way and hit him in the mouth with the handle of the demon-killing knife. Bobby covered Ken as pieces of the ceiling began falling.
Then it was over.
The last beams of light left Castiel, the house stopped shaking, and the sigil went dark, blending into all the other spray painting on the crumbling ceiling.
Two of the blackout lanterns had been knocked over and closed, and the tealight candles were scattered, making the room even darker. Dean lifted his head and looked around. "Sam? You OK?"
"I'm good," Sam said confidently, giving a dark grin to Crowley, who looked murderous but also aware of the knife. "Bobby?"
"I'm fine. Ken seems OK. Give me the keys to the handcuffs when you've got a moment."
"Cas?" Sam asked.
"He's alive," Dean said.
"OK, Crowley," Sam said. "As promised, your head start."
"Am I supposed to be grateful?" Crowley spat. "Don't think I'll forget this." And he vanished.
Dean heard it, but didn't care. His focus was on Castiel, who lay trembling and silent, one eye open wide with horror, a hideous dark hole where the other eye should have been. His robe must have been composed solely of his power; it was gone, and he was naked again, his skin faintly yellowish in the light of the holy fire.
"Heal your eye, Cas," Dean said. "Come on. Please."
Cas' good eye continued looking somewhere far away from Dean. Sam scrambled to pick up the candles, many still lit, that were rolling around on the floor, but kept watching what was happening in the circle. Bobby began freeing Ken, who looked exhausted and sick.
"I know you've got enough angel mojo left in you, Cas." Lying beside him, Dean put one hand on Castiel's chest and one on his head. "Heal your eye. Please. Don't let – I know you can do it."
Standing with only the flame between himself and the angel, Sam suddenly yelled sharply, "Castiel!"
Dean started and looked up as Sam continued barking, "Soldier! Heal your eye! That's an order!"
Dean shot Sam a look that said, Great thought. Sam shot Dean a look that said, Thanks, and should we be freaked out about how intimately you're lying with him?
Dean looked back at Cas' eye, and for a moment despaired. Then Bobby reopened one of the lanterns, and Dean saw the light reflecting off of something wet in the empty eye socket, a gelatinous mass that was filling a filmy cup that grew across and thickened beneath a mending eyelid, resolving to the white sclera and black pupil and startling blue iris of Castiel's uninjured eye.
Dean gave a huge sigh. Putting the last of the candles on the "altar," Sam took off his flannel shirt and handed it to Dean over the flame. Dean draped it lengthwise over Cas like a blanket, then lay back down beside him with his hand over Castiel's heart.
Very slightly, Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Why was Crowley so mad?"
Everyone but Castiel jumped. Ken was sitting upright on the floor, looking at Bobby.
"You know his name?"
"Yeah. I could hear everything, you know. I just couldn't – I had no control over my own body." He gave a little shaking laugh. "I've never been so scared."
"I know the feeling," Sam and Bobby said almost in unison.
"That was – something out of Purgatory? I know it was completely determined not to go back somewhere, and you guys kept talking about Purgatory, and that Crowley guy with the English accent was helping."
"Yeah, he's an altruist," Sam said.
"You saw all that power shooting out of the guy on the floor?" Bobby asked. "Crowley wanted all that power in himself."
Ken looked across at what he could see of Castiel beyond the flames. "Why?" he asked explosively.
"Prob'ly thinks he could've handled it better than Castiel and ruled the world."
"Everyone always thinks they can handle it better," Sam said ruefully.
"But he didn't start swearing at you until you said that – Latin chant, or whatever it was."
Dean looked up at Bobby. "When did you say the spell? I only heard a couple words."
"Most of it, just before Sam called you. I figured if I said most of the incantation and nothing else until I finished it, other people could say anything in between and it wouldn't matter. We didn't really think the holy fire would stop Castiel, but hopefully slow him down if the spell took a moment to kick in."
"Well, you gotta know Crowley's happy to have that power out of Cas," Dean said. "So why'd he start swearing?"
Bobby chuckled. "He wasn't expecting a little change I made in the spell. I established that in the future Purgatory's portal can only be opened if the demon Crowley enters therein and remains."
"And Crowley just wanted all that crap that went back into Purgatory," Ken said, figuring it out. "He doesn't actually want to be in Purgatory."
"Oh, no," Sam chortled.
"Well, that was pretty smart," Ken said.
"Thanks," Bobby said.
"What have I done?" Castiel whispered, but only Dean, who looked back at him and clutched his arm in response, heard.
Ken looked at Sam. "Sorry I – clawed you."
"Sorry I banged your head into the car. You've got a beautiful lump there."
"Don't care. Didn't care even then. I was just so damn happy that someone knew something was wrong with me."
"What have I done?" Castiel whispered again. He was still looking somewhere far away, not meeting Dean's gaze.
"Don't think about it right now," Dean said. "Just heal up."
Light coming from outside showed against the blinds over the front windows, then went out. Bobby stood. Sam kicked the angel-killing sword back under the altar and used the knife to pull the blinds a bit aside and look out. Then he smiled, stuck the knife in the back of his belt, turned and opened the front door.
"Are you guys OK?" Rose asked. "Oh!"
Since, when she'd left, the room hadn't featured a circle of fire with two men lying in it, one shirtless and one covered only with a shirt and looking like he'd just witnessed a mass murder, her surprise was understandable.
Sam gave an exhausted little laugh and sat on the floor. "Yeah, we're OK. Everything went the way it was supposed to."
"It did? The ground shook! The house glowed! That was supposed to happen?"
"Yep," Bobby said.
"Where's – um – where's – "
"You can say his name," Bobby said. "It won't conjure him or anything. Crowley left."
She gave a sharp sigh and looked around, giving a double-take to Dean and Castiel. "You all – all – look exhausted."
"The guy in the jeans is my brother, Dean," Sam said, and Dean looked up at Rose. "The other guy is Castiel. He was the one with the Purgatory souls in him. Dean, this is Rose, and that's Ken."
"Hi," Dean said. "How'd you guys get snarled up in this?"
"Ken was possessed by a Purgatory creature. Rose, um – "
"I'm a virgin," she said almost drolly.
"Dean," Castiel said quietly. "Give me the sword."
"Yeah, I don't think so." He looked over at Sam. "You guys better get someplace and get some sleep. I'm gonna make sure Cas doesn't do anything stupid."
"Where do you come from, Rose?" Bobby asked.
"Wetherington, Ohio."
"Great. Well, hopefully they've got a spare room at the motel for tonight, but then how are we gonna get you back to Ohio?"
"I brought my clutch. I've got ID and credit cards and some cash."
"Good. Tomorrow either Sam or I will swing you by the airport in Kansas City."
"You do it, Bobby," Sam said. "I'm staying here tonight."
"I'll be fine, Sam," Dean said.
"I'm not so sure about that. By now the Impala's in the Bootback PD impound lot."
Dean groaned and covered his face with a hand.
"I'll come back tomorrow with my car and get you guys," Ken said. "Bobby, where do you go after you take her to the airport?"
"Back to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Lookin' for 1967 Chevy bumpers."
Dean groaned again.
"I got a sleeping bag in the car, I'll bring it in." With which, and an enormous yawn, Bobby went.
"Thank you again," Ken said to Sam. "I mean – God, that doesn't even say it. Just – "
Sam grinned and shrugged. "It's what we do."
"Really? The Purgatory thing happens a lot?"
Sam laughed. "No. This was kind of unusual even for us."
Rose had knelt by the holy fire, looking into Cas' horrified eyes over the flame. "I hope – I hope you feel better soon."
Castiel looked at her wordlessly for a moment, swallowed. "Your kindness speaks well of you. But I never will."
"Cas – " Dean began.
"They needed my blood to open Purgatory," Rose said. "Crowley did. And they made a bargain that my deal with Crowley would be broken if I gave them the blood."
Dean looked at her, a little surprised.
"So I don't know why you did what you did – but, because of it, I'm not going to Hell in two months." She gave a little gasping sigh; there were tears in her eyes. "Maybe I won't ever. I mean, if you feel rotten – I hope that helps."
Sam stood to give the heavy woman a hand off the floor as Bobby came back in with the sleeping bag and handed it to Sam.
"Hey, Ken?" Dean looked up. "When you come back tomorrow, do you have a pair of pants you could give Castiel? I have the feeling that healing his eye just about exhausted his power for awhile."
"Kidding me? You guys could have my whole wardrobe."
"You two head on out to the car, I'll be right there," Bobby said, and they did so. "Sam – damn good work, boy. Dean, thanks for givin' us the chance to get it done."
"Bobby." Castiel sounded like a ghost. "Dr. Visyak – it was me."
"I know. I also know why you did it. I'm tryin' to focus on that. Gimme some time."
Castiel didn't respond, and with a final, "See you at my place" directed to the brothers, Bobby left.
Sam offered the sleeping bag to Dean, who shook his head and sat up. "You take it. I'm afraid he'll try to use it to smother the fire."
Sam went into the kitchen, and a moment later announced, "That's it. I rule," as he came back out holding salt canisters. "Enough for a ring around you guys and another one around me. Do I know how to plan or what?"
"Yeah. A lot of times girls are better at detail work."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Sam poured salt around the holy fire, its crystals glistening. Castiel said, "Dean, you must release me. This is not mere self-pity. I must atone for the blasphemous horror I have committed, have become."
"When your idea of atonement doesn't involve the angel-killing sword, we'll talk."
"What I did – it preceded the opening of Purgatory. I willingly joined forces with a demon. I hurt Sam. I destroyed – "
"Yeah. Not arguing. You did some bad crap. Is killing yourself going to change any of that?"
"You don't understand." Castiel seemed to be straining to express the importance of this. "I cannot – continue to – exist as part of my Father's creation."
Sam set the salt canister down on the floor with a bang. Dean and Cas looked up as he sat cross-legged next to the salt circle. In the flickering light of the holy fire, he looked exactly like a Cub Scout leader at a campout.
"I freed Lucifer from Hell," he said as though Cas had never heard this before.
"It is different, Sam. You are human, and you had no idea –"
"Do you know how many people died as a result?"
"Yes."
"Well, I can only estimate. I tracked it. Between the natural – well, the unnatural disasters, the collateral damage from battles with angels, and people he killed just, I guess, because he felt like killing people, I figure I'm responsible for about 26,300 deaths."
Castiel was silent.
"It dwarfs anything you've done," Sam said. "And don't think there weren't plenty of times since then, especially the first few months, when I didn't think about taking the easy way out. Even if I went to Hell, I figured – I figured I'd be getting the suspense over with."
"But then you spent a century in Hell, essentially atoning."
"True. Did it bring any of the 26,300 back to life? The only thing – the only thing I can do now is to be the best man I can be, save as many as I can, be a good brother and a good friend. So I try my best to do that. I live with that 26,300 every day. But that's the operative word. I live. With it."
He stood, picking up a salt container and the sleeping bag. "It's a nice night, and there's about a million stars out there. I'm gonna sleep on the porch. Yell if you need anything."
After a few moments, Dean said, "You gotta talk to me, Cas. 'Cause as good as you are, interpreting my slang? That's how good I am interpreting you when you're quiet."
There was another moment's silence.
"I can hardly make myself look at you, Dean. How can I talk to you? How can you not wish to see me destroyed? After what I did to you? And – " He covered his eyes for a moment. "I raped Sheryl."
"Yeah. And I didn't stop you."
"And when you consider – that these are the least of my sins. I worked with Crowley for his benefit. I killed angels who discovered what I was doing. I opened a portion of the spiritual realm deliberately sealed off by my Father to drain the power of the beings therein. And then I claimed – I claimed to be – I thought to usurp – "
He lunged toward the fire, but Dean had seen that one coming and grabbed Castiel's upper arm, hauling him backward. Castiel's foot grazed the fire and he cried out in pain, but now Dean grabbed his other arm, pinned them behind Castiel's back, and pulled Castiel's arms to his chest, which dragged the angel's feet away from the flame.
Sam was at the door. "He OK?"
"Yeah. Tried to burn himself up. – Stop fighting me, Cas. You're no stronger than I am right now. This whole thing must have kicked the crap out of your grace, at least for a while. – Better get the duct tape."
Castiel stopped fighting. "That won't be necessary."
"Says you. Promise you won't roll into that fire. Or step into it or make contact with it at all."
Sam nodded approvingly. "Good drafting."
Castiel gave a horrible broken laugh. "Shall I swear on my word as a faithful angel of the Lord?"
"Swear to me personally." Dean gave Cas' arms an exasperated jerk. "Give your personal promise, to me, that you won't kill yourself, and we won't tape you up."
"I cannot. I will give you my personal promise that I will not destroy myself in the next week."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look and a slight nod. Dean released Cas, who slumped over, Sam's shirt draped across his lap, fists clenched and resting on the floor.
"OK," Dean said to Sam. "Go ahead and get some sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." He gave a dirty grin. "I don't want you rushing in here every time you hear us makin' noise."
Sam looked stunned. "In your – storied record of inappropriate jokes, this has got to be – "
"G'night, Sam."
Sam held up his hand. "See you in the morning."
There was silence for another minute.
"You know what I noticed, in your list of crimes, you didn't include killing Raphael."
"Raphael himself was committing grave sins in wanting to raise Lucifer again and disregarding the loss of human life that would result. Sam feels that his sins dwarf mine because of the numbers of people killed. By that standard, Raphael's sin would have dwarfed Sam's. I tried to reason with him, to persuade him. He would not be stopped. Violence was necessary."
"OK, so why didn't you just kick Raphael into Hell and throw away the key, like God did with Lucifer?"
"I lacked the power." Castiel shook his head. "I know what you're trying to do, Dean. You're trying to say that what I did is understandable because I was trying to save human lives. It's an argument that the ends justify the means, which you would never allow Sam to use when he was using demonic power to fight evil."
"Yeah, well – there was a bunch of stuff I wouldn't 'allow' back then. I was so damn mad and scared most of the time, I never listened to him. It still haunts me that I told him once that if I didn't know him, I'd hunt him. I'm surprised he listened to me as much as he did. I was right, of course. But, y'know, somehow being an asshole doesn't help to convince people that you're right. Sam blames himself completely, but I have part of the guilt for that 26,300."
"I don't think – "
"And you know why I was so scared and pissed off all the time, not listening and pushing Sam away?"
"You had just spent forty years in Hell. You were tortured ceaselessly until you finally broke and agreed to torture other souls. You were filled with terror, rage, and guilt. I don't understand what this has to do with the fact that I committed the most horrific crimes imaginable."
"It's connected because it's not enough to say, you did something rotten, therefore you're rotten. Yeah, some people – all they care about is power, or making people suffer because they're miserable themselves, or whatever. But Sam didn't raise Lucifer because it would show everyone how cool he was – matter of fact, he was trying to stop Lucifer. And you – well. If you'd known that the power of those Purgatory souls would send you off the deep end and you'd start going around telling everyone you're God, would you have opened Purgatory?"
Castiel thought for a moment.
Then, "I honestly don't know, Dean. I did terrible things even before I ingested the souls' power. Perhaps I wouldn't have cared how offensive to God they would make me. But it doesn't matter. Even a well-meaning human who commits such sins must atone."
"Well, OK, start thinking about how you're going to atone."
Cas looked overwhelmed. "Even to begin – perhaps, for you, I may be able to – "
"Never mind about me right now. How about Sheryl?"
"She is no doubt profoundly frightened and disturbed – "
" – or still brainwashed and thinking she's God's girlfriend."
Castiel closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "In either case, removing her memory of – tonight, would be best."
"Yeah. Unless, you know, she's, well, pregnant."
Castiel's eyes flew wide open and he looked at Dean directly for the first time since he'd tried to immolate himself.
Then he relaxed and shook his head. "I will discern that before taking any action, but I doubt it. The power of Purgatory was a barren power. I fixed the wall in Sam's mind, but I doubt if I could have created it had it not already existed. I kept thinking of the problems I wanted to solve, and my solutions all involved either killing someone or rewarding humans for producing an answer. I couldn't even create a pattern for a robe – I doubt if I could have created life."
"But if you have?"
"Then I must see Sheryl face to face, ask her if she wants me to change her memory of the conception to something pleasant. If she wants me to play any part in the child's life or leave her completely alone. After I have conveyed my profoundest – " He sighed. "'Remorse' is inadequate."
"OK, this is good," Dean said. "Let's keep going. Who's next on the atonement list?"
"You're too flip, Dean. I committed the worst possible blasphemy. I assumed the mantle of divinity and claimed to take my Father's place. It is unforgivable."
Dean's head pulled back a little on his neck. "Even by God? I thought He was all about forgiveness. I mean, sure, you're going to want to make up somehow for – "
"For saying that I was a new and better God?" Castiel actually laughed, a hard sharp bark. "I can think of only one place – "
After a moment, Dean said, "What? Where?"
"It is not of import."
"Don't give me that. You were thinking of someplace you could go to –"
He grabbed Castiel's shoulder and yanked him so that the angel had to face him. "You are not going to send yourself to Hell."
"Can you think of anyone more fit for – "
"God, yes, Cas, lots of – "
"I am an angel who has murdered, raped, committed the vilest sin against God – "
"I don't hear God screaming, do you?"
"If a human committed such – "
"Yeah, he'd be Hell-worthy if he didn't repent. I always thought repentance was important. I thought God cared about repentant sinners. Aren't religious people always saying that?"
Cas was silent.
"It doesn't matter, anyway. You won't go. 'Cause you know what'll happen if you do."
"I will pay the price for – "
"No, I mean to me."
Cas started physically, then relaxed. "You will not kill yourself to find me in Hell. There would be no point."
"No, there wouldn't. I'll figure out a way to open the Devil's Gate in Wyoming and walk in."
Castiel looked at Dean, stupefied.
"You know I'll do it. God, I don't, I really don't want to. But I will. And if I do that, you know what'll happen."
Castiel swallowed. "Sam will go in after you."
"Right. So unless you want all three of us stretched out on racks down there – "
"Promise me you will not."
"No way, Cas. If you send yourself to Hell – even if you just disappear without any explanation – that's what I'll do. I'll go in and pull you out the way you pulled me. Or we can listen to each other scream in the same torture chamber. End of discussion."
Castiel averted his face. "Why would you – How could you possibly – after what I did to you? I realize that you chose to – distract me, but – because of my madness for power and insanity, you were forced to endure beating and humiliating degradation."
Dean yawned. Then he stretched out on the floor, bending his body slightly to fit inside the circle, leaning on one elbow, a surprisingly sensual and relaxed pose for someone humiliatingly degraded.
"You asked me a question awhile ago, and I had to give you bull for an answer, but now I think I want to tell you the truth."
Cas looked confused. "I don't recall – "
"When did I first realize that I loved you."
Cas closed his eyes again. "Please. Don't." His voice was strained to breaking. "Please. Don't humor me. Or placate me. I would never have – In sanity, I would not have inflicted – "
"It was when I was living with Lisa."
Castiel went completely still, physically and verbally.
Dean wasn't even looking at him. "God, I was screwed up," he said softly. "That whole time after – after Hell – Well, you know. Dreams about Hell every night, so real it was like being there. Nonstop fear and guilt all the time I was awake. And God, I was so scared Sam was gonna end up there. When he raised Lucifer it shook him so bad, he really needed someone to help, and – it just wasn't in me, you know. I just couldn't help him. I couldn't even trust him. I started trusting him just in time – " He took a breath, deliberately relaxed his muscles – "just in time to see him fall into Hell with Lucifer possessing him."
There was absolute quiet in the room for a moment.
"So let's face it, I wasn't the best candidate for falling in love. I remembered in the past thinkin' it might be good someday, but I couldn't even imagine it at that time. Even if I had it in me to fall in love, I'd've just felt sorry for the poor dumb bastard I was in love with and gotten the hell away. The only reason I went to Lisa was because I'd promised Sam I would after he – was gone. And she knew. The guy you're living with dreams of being tortured almost every night and wakes up at three in the morning knowing that his kid brother's being tortured while he lies there – you'd have to be pretty dumb to think that this guy's a hot prospect, and Lisa's smart. She took me in like she'd take in a dog hit by a car.
"And started healing me. Just unbelievable patience and nonstop caring, no matter what – and of course Ben – " He smiled reminiscently. "A kid wants to do so much and know so much and he looks at you with those big eyes and no matter how deep down you are, and even if it hurts 'cause it reminds you of the way Sam used to look at you, it's hard to just say, Go away, kid." He chuckled a very little. "Hard? It's impossible.
"They turned me back into a human being again. Lisa and Ben. The anti-Hell. At first I thought I was cracking up for good. I went to see a shrink, it was that bad. I just told him Sam had died, you know, how close we were, our only family. He told me I'd resisted feeling for so long and now that I was starting to let myself feel again, it seemed like I was getting worse, but really I was getting better. I swore at him and never went back." Dean looked rueful. "Should probably drop the guy a line.
"I could never figure out – Once I did – After – " He shook his head, cleared his throat. "Once I did start feeling anything good – It was nice to be able to give Lisa something besides silence and an occasional scream and yard work and baby-sitting. But it wasn't the kind of feeling she deserved. Couldn't figure out why I didn't fall in love with this beautiful, great woman that I owed so much to. And then one day I was sitting on a park bench thinking, and I remembered that day after Hallowe'en when you came over and sat on the bench next to me and started talking, and I knew." He gave a little one-shoulder shrug. "I knew why I couldn't fall in love with Lisa. It was 'cause there was someone else."
After a long moment, Castiel asked, "Why did you never tell me before?"
Dean snorted, sitting up. "Right. I got this vision of a personals ad: Former torturer from Hell, now two steps away from being a basket case on Earth, seeks righteous loving – " he choked a little – "perfect angel for long-term relationship." Castiel shook his head, but Dean was talking and didn't notice. "It wasn't going to happen. I wasn't going to let it happen.
"But when you showed up full of Purgatory crap, crazy and saying we had to worship you, my first thought was, We're going to have to kill him. And my second thought was, I'm going to do anything necessary to get him out of this alive, somehow, anyhow, and then I'm not going to keep my mouth shut about the way I feel about him. Ever again.
"So when – I said I loved you – I said it knowing that I had to get you away from Sam and Bobby and get you thinking about something else – but I also meant it. And what we did, back there? Yeah, that's not the way our first time went in my fantasy life. But it's also – it's not like I hadn't had the fantasies. Imagining someone like you could bear to get physical with a, with someone, seriously imperfect. Like me."
"I wasn't perfect, Dean. I never was. And now I am so vile that – "
After a moment, Dean finished the sentence for him. " – that you couldn't even think about loving anyone. Letting them love you. I know."
"You don't know. Our situations are very different. You said that Lisa took you in as she would take in a dog who'd been hit by a car. I am – I am a driver who hit a dog and kept going."
"Because there was a fire down the block. Because you thought your family was going to die."
"It is true – I kept thinking – I knew that if Raphael raised Lucifer again you would be on the front lines. And Sam. And I thought, I would do anything, anything, to keep you from being destroyed. So I did. I destroyed others. And myself."
Shifting so that he sat behind Cas, Dean put one leg on either side of him and wrapped his arms around the angel, feeling the muscles in Cas' back and arms tense as he did so, pulling Castiel's back to his own chest.
"I cannot – I am not – "
"I know," Dean repeated. "I'm not asking for us to be a hot item right now. Just let me do for you what Lisa did for me. Let me give you a place to land. Believe me, you won't be getting off easy. You're still gonna feel like all your bones are broken and your guts pulverized."
Castiel gave a deep sigh; Dean felt it shudder against his forearms. "I could heal that."
Dean smiled a little, rested his mouth on Cas' shoulder in what was not quite a kiss.
"If my Father could forgive me – and you could, could love me – it might – Truly, Dean, I wish I could see how it's possible. But I don't."
"Well, I can't speak for God," Dean began, then interrupted himself. "No, you know what? I am gonna speak for God. This is the only time I've ever been sure I know what's in the guy's mind. He can forgive you, Cas. And He knows I can love you. Because I do. No matter what, I do."
He pulled the angel closer to him. "It's possible, Castiel," he said, letting the full name linger on his tongue, the first time he'd ever said it. "Believe me, 'cause I know. It's possible."
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THE END
