I was dead. And then I wasn't. It was a disturbing, very confusing feeling… One that I would grow used over the next four years. I did not know the particulars on my resurrection, but I had faith that it was God. Even though I had rebelled against Heaven, I had to believe that my father still loved me. He must have brought me back to protect the Winchesters and make sure my brothers and sisters did not use them to carry out the apocalypse. But I would be lying if I did not admit that there was a nagging alternative to who brought me back. I did not like to think of that possibility, because I was not like Lucifer. It couldn't have been my blasphemous brother who gave me back my life. But Lucifer's motives could be the same as my father's. Sam was his vessel, after all, so he would want me to keep the boys safe. I could drive myself crazy worrying over who was the reason I was alive, but I did not have the time. The apocalypse was nigh, and I had to find Sam and Dean.
They were cornered by my brothers, tortured into Dean saying yes to being Michael's vessel. Sam gasped for air, his face turning purple against the strain of staying alive. And Dean coughed up blood, clutching at his stomach in the most acute pain brought on by stomach cancer.
Fury bubbled inside of me until it spilled over. Sword in hand, I attacked my brothers. The element of surprise was on my side, so in their hesitation at seeing me alive, I struck one down immediately. I dodged the other's advances and pushed my weight upon him, slicing deliberately in ways that were sure to kill. At last, I got him in the right place and held his head firmly against the wall as I plunged my sword into his neck. I felt his grace burning out beneath my finger tips, until he was dead.
"How are you?" Zacheriah stammered before I interrupted him.
"Alive?" I offer, my voice low with my continued anger. "That's a good question. How did these two end up in that aeroplane? Another good question, because the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer don't we?" I taunted, enjoying the look of shock on my big brother's face. "It should scare you. Now put these boys back together. I won't ask twice."
With a flutter of his wings, the pompous coward took off, leaving me behind with two mended Winchesters. I placed my hands on their chests and ignored their wincing in pain as I carved Enochian symbols into their ribs to make them invisible to all angels. They were grateful to me for saving their lives and proving my loyalty to them once again, but instead of staying close to them like I so longed to do, I left before answering their questions. I had already lied once today, and did not feel strong enough to do it again.
The next time I saw the Winchesters, I was bringing bad news. I could not heal Bobby Singer's legs, and I felt ashamed for it. But I had rebelled against my family, and therefore was cut off from the powers of Heaven. I could not let this hinder my task at hand, however. We needed to stop Lucifer, so it was crucial that I find my father, who I knew would be able to end it all without hurting anyone.

"God?" Dean asked, the doubt very heavy in his voice.

"Yes," I replied impatiently. "He isn't in Heaven; he must be somewhere."

"Try New Mexico; I hear he's on a tortilla."

Confused, I narrowed my eyes at Dean, for once again, his comments had alluded me. "No, he isn't on any flatbread."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, and I came to the awareness that he had been joking. I jotted down a note to remember to laugh the next time he made this kind of idiotic remark. "Listen Chuckles, if there is a god, he is either dead, and that's the generous theory-"

"He is out there, Dean!"

"Or," he continued, ignoring my faith "he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us."

I felt betrayed. This was my father he was insulting. I knew he did not see it that way, but I did. And even though Dean was my friend, I once again, felt the anger rising within me. He continued his blasphemy, until I could take no more and cut him off. "Enough! This is not a theological issue; it's strategic," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "With God's help, we can win."

"It's a pipe dream, Cas."

My eyes twitched and my breath hitched dangerously in my throat as I stepped towards Dean. "I killed two angels this week," I hissed at him. "Those are my brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled, and did it, all of it, for you." Dean's face gave off hints of surprise at my declaration. I had not meant to be so honest, so instead of letting my embarrassment wash over me, I continued, my tone growing even more harsh. "You failed. You and your brother destroyed the world, and I lost everything… for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself." Dean and I refused to look away from one another, so we stood with faces so close, just staring into one another's eyes. My heart was still beating quickly from the passion of my vexation, while he looked sorry, but still too proud to admit to it. Finally, Bobby broke us out of our daze, and asked me what I needed. Reluctantly, I slowly slid my eyes away from Dean who took a step back from me. "An amulet," I answered. "It burns hot in God's presence. It will help me find him." I looked to Dean and ordered him to give me the token from around his neck. I was fully aware of the sentimental purposes this item brought him, but I needed it, nonetheless. Hesitantly, he gave it up to me, almost as his way of apologizing for our altercation. With a nod, I left them, and started upon the quest for my father who had been missing my entire life.

I never anticipated the search for God to be an easy one, but when there were so many places he could possibly be, one feels incredibly small and helpless. The best way, I figured was to go to the most beautiful places of his creation and search there. So I did. The Grand Canyon, Mount Everest, Midway Island, but he was nowhere to be found. My spirits were at an all-time low, and I felt utterly alone. Though I was still cross with them, I longed for my family and for Heaven: a place of comfort despite its military style. And at last, I heard a rumor of suspicious activity in Maine. A gas station had been completely leveled by a sort of explosion, killing a hoard of people. And according to the news, a police officer heard deafening sounds which very well could be the voice of an archangel This sparked my interest for the same occurrence took place before Raphael had killed me in the home of the profit, Chuck.

Dean was taken by surprise when I showed up behind him in the bathroom of his hotel room. "Hello, Dean," I greeted him as he turned around to look me in the face. He was so close to me that I could see each individual freckle that blanketed the bridge of his nose. I liked being this close to Dean where I could see every detail of my father's craftsmanship. Plus, Dean gave off such incredible warmth, and his smell was inviting… but my closeness made him uncomfortable, so I stepped back from him, lowering my eyes to the floor. I told him of my plan, but unlike I'd hoped, he was reluctant to help me. He was upset about his brother, I could understand that, but I was not in the mood to coddle to him. I too was under much pressure and missing my invisible family. Together, Dean and I could find Raphael, get the answers we needed, and spend time together, just us two, which I secretly craved. With each other's company, we could forget the siblings who caused us pain. Of course, I said nothing of this over-romanticized plan to Dean.

"So what? I'm Thelma and you're Louise, and we're gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" He stared at me, waiting for an answer or a reaction, but I just looked back at him, expressionless. I had a feeling that this was another one of his jokes, but I did not want to laugh and be wrong. So instead, I kept quiet, still looking at him. It wasn't until he rolled his eyes and walked passed me that I concluded that it was a joke. I pursed my lips, scolding myself internally for another mistake in Dean's humor.

"I need your help, because you're the only one who'll help me," I admitted, a bit helplessly. "Please."

Thankfully, Dean's expression softened and he agreed to come along to aid me in finding Raphael, but only on one condition: we would drive to Maine. I fixed my countenance to one of indifference, but truthfully, I wanted so badly to smile. Riding 'shotgun' in the Impala with Dean was the best possible pastime for a fallen angel such as myself. I spent the entire drive fighting the happiness that so badly wanted to take over my lips, stealing looks at Dean, and memorizing every song that came onto the radio. This was a moment that, I felt would never be repeated again, so I wanted to savor every tiny detail.

My first undercover mission was rocky, to say the very least. I did not fully understand the point of lying, but Dean was the expert, so I went along with it as best I could… but that was not good enough. He kept looking to me with wide incredulous eyes, as I tried his patience again and again. It was not deliberate, which I wished I could explain to him. I was still learning to be human, which is not as easy as it looks. But despite his frustrations, Dean was kind to me, for the most part. He did not yell at me, though I could see that he probably wanted to. He fixed my crooked tie, which was such a simple, nurturing gesture that it set my heart pounding. When he wasn't rolling his eyes at my ignorance in human affairs, he seemed… at ease. Like our working so closely together was not strange at all, but welcomed and comfortable. It felt like we were actually becoming friends, and even though I sorry for not being better, I was pleased. And I suppose that our meeting with the police officer didn't go all that badly, because we got the information we had come for, and were sent to he hospital Raphael's vessel was being held at.

The vessel was a broken man, hunched over in a chair with his expression vacant and drool dripping into his lap. I was honest with Dean when he asked if this is what he would become. Yes, dean would be even worse than this man, and that was precisely why I needed to make sure that he was never to accept being Michael's vessel. Hell had broken Dean in a way that I shuddered to think of, but being a vessel, I think would damage him permanently. If he said yes, there would probably not be any Dean left, for as strong as he was, he was not strong enough to withstand the fury of my older brother. I would not let Dean Winchester become a shattered memory in the husk of a human body… because what would the world do without him? Who would save the innocent from all of the monsters? Who would watch out for Sam? And what about me? Who would I be without the one who taught me how to feel?

I left Dean to travel to Jerusalem in order to procure holy oil, the key to trapping an angel. Inside the ring of burning oil, my brother would not be able to escape without killing himself. Never in all of my life had I ever dreamed of confining one of my brothers or sisters in such a ring as this, but times had changed, and Raphael and I certainly were not on good terms.

Back at the abandoned house, I explained the basics of my plan to Dean. And when he asked if we would survive this, I told the truth: he would, and I wouldn't. His face dropped, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head. "Well, last night on Earth… what uh… what are your plans?"

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly," I said, looking away from him. And that was the plan. It's not what I wanted to do, but it being so early in our relationship, I did not imagine that Dean would want to spend time with me. I wanted him to tell me everything about himself. His life story, his thoughts and feelings on everything, details about his family and hunting. Sure, I knew most of this, but I wanted to hear him say it all.

"Dude, come on, anything?" he teased. "Booze, women?" Taken aback from this, I glanced at him and quickly looked away. Those things did not sound very appetizing, but I was afraid that he might catch wind of what I really wanted. But he didn't, and led my shyness to my lack of sexual experience. "You have been with a woman before… or an angel, at least?" he asked, sounding mildly surprised, which I couldn't understand. "You're going to tell me that you haven't been up there doing a little cloud seeding?"

His question was preposterous, and I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing at him. My voice came out sounding annoyed when I answered, "I've just never had occasion, okay?"

Decidedly, Dean put on his coat and informed me that my virginity was not acceptable to him, so much to my horror, we headed off to a local brothel. Horror is not even the word intense enough for me to use to explain what I was feeling as I sat across from Dean in that dimly lit lair of sin. A thesaurus of frightened, panicked emotions strummed through my body. Mostly naked human women walked everywhere, whispering their seductive promises in men's ears and took their hands and led them through a curtain that hid the lustful truths from our view. Dean chuckled knowingly as he talked to the girl at our table. I could not look at her, so instead I drained my glass of alcohol before Dean let her guide me away from him. No no no no was the only voice in my head. Dean stopped me and leaned his face in closely. He gave me money, and bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing at he look on my face. "Don't make me push you," he laughed.

The woman led me to a room at the end of the hall. There were black sheets on a large bed, and she pushed me down onto it, positioning herself atop me with her legs on either side of my waist. She began loosening my tie, the one that Dean had fixed earlier, and pressing her lips to my jaw and neck. And with her presence so close to mine, I began to see the personal faults that plagued her. "Rachel, I'm sorry," I said, catching her by surprise at using her real name.

She looked down at me, startled. "What did you call me?"

"It's not your fault that your father, Gene ran off," I answered, looking her in the eyes. "It was just because he hated his job at the post office."

The next moments went by in a blur of blonde hair and inanimate objects that were hurled at my head. Confused and a bit afraid, Dean hurried me away from screaming of Rachel and angry men who now pursued us. Outside by the Impala, Dean doubled over laughing. His body shook and tears pooled in his eyes. He leaned against me for support and clutched at his stomach. "It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard," he gasped, smiling broadly at me. I smiled back at him, happiness radiating from my body, and climbed back in the Impala with him.

When we got back to the house, I had the last night on Earth that I had so hoped for. Dean and I sat side by side on a blanket in a vacant room, our backs leaning against the dirty wall. We drank beer and he just talked while I listened so intently, hanging on every word and getting drunk, not off of the alcohol but he soft cadence of his voice. I watched him all the while. Even when he looked back at me, I didn't look away, and he didn't seem to mind. He smiled at me so much that night and told me things I knew he'd never shared with anyone else, not even Sam. At times, he'd even touch me. His shoulder would brush mine and I'd draw in my breath. And then as the night went on and Dean's eyes began to droop, he rested his hand on my leg and smiled. "Thanks, Cas," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "I really needed this." He fell asleep soon after that, so I closed my eyes and replayed the day we had just spent together. I was going to die tomorrow, but I didn't mind because the day I just had made up for it.

Back at St. Paul's Hospital, Dean and I preformed our ritual to summon Raphael to his vessel. We lit the flame and waited… all day we waited, but he never came. Discouraged, we went back to the house to reform our plan. But as soon as we had stepped through the door, there was my brother who had been absent all day. There was Raphael, looking so arrogant and powerful. But Dean was not afraid of him. His sarcasm was thick as he continuously taunted my older brother who just became more and more angry. I was torn between anger at my brother and admiration for Dean. It was about time someone stood up to the brute. And with that, I set the ring of oil that surrounded him on fire, and watched the flames dance in his narrowed eyes as he growled at me. "Where is he?" I asked him.

"God?" I nodded. "Didn't you hear? He's dead, Castiel." My stomach dropped, feeling like it had turned to lead. This could not be true."There's no other explanation. He's gone for good."

"You're lying," I argue, my hatred growing stronger.

"Am I?" He sounded so sure. And even when Dean began to test him again, playing with his anger, he still made sense. Dean could see me tense at his side, so he made more jokes. "Is this funny to you? You're living in a Godless universe."

Dean was done with his tricks now. Instead, his voice changed to that of a lecturer. "You think just because God's gone that you can do whatever you want?" Of course he did, Dean. Raphael was an archangel. He was capable of anything, so he fully intended to get his way.

"If God is dead, why have I returned?" I shouted over the storm of my brother's creation that now raged inside the house. "Who brought me back?"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?"

"No," I lied quickly.

"Think about it: he needs all of the rebellious angels he can find." Worried by the look of fear creeping over my face, Dean stepped closer to me, protecting me. But in that moment I could not even register this action on an emotional level. My brother voiced my darkest fears, and now they were back, knocking at the door in my mind, unable to be silenced. I knew if I stayed there any longer, I would kill Raphael. Another one of my brother's lives would be on my hands, and I could not have that happen, for Lucifer had killed many of his kin. I did not want to have any more in common with him. "Let's go," I said to Dean, turning to leave.

"Castiel," Raphael called after me. "I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you."

"Maybe one day," I grant him. "But today, you're my little bitch. " And with a line straight from the Dean Winchester dictionary, we left my brother in a ring of fire, throwing a tantrum in the tempest of his own creation.

Back in the Impala, we drove in silence. There was no conversation, no rock and roll. Just my thoughts and his, mingling in silence, until at lat he said, "Are you okay?" I did not answer him, because I wasn't okay, and he knew it. "I do know a little something about missing fathers," he began. "There were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead… but I knew in my heart that he was still alive. So who cares what some Ninja Turtle says, Cas? What do you believe?"

"I believe he's out there," I said, and I meant it. Dean was right. Raphael was egocentric and wanted our father's job. There was still a chance that God was still alive, somewhere.

"Good. Then go find him." We looked at one another, and even though I was still in pain from my dispute with my brother and worried about the absence of my father, I felt warmth in my heart. I was an angel of the lord, one of the most powerful beings in all of creation, and a human boy was the only thing that could make me happy. I searched through all of the human emotions that I had cataloged, and could not come up with one that fit what I was feeling right then. But there was one that I did not yet understand. Could it be love that I felt for Dean? Right now I had so many other things to find out, so exploring this feeling did not make the list. So I kept quiet.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am. I'm really good."

"Even without your brother?"

He paused in deliberation. "Especially without my brother. I mean, I spend so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I've had more fun with you in the past 24 hours than I've had with Sam in years… and you're not that much fun." He gave me a teasing look, so my lips twitched into a quick smile. "I've been so chained to my family, that now that I'm alone… hell, I'm happy."

But I did not stick around to hear more of what he had to say. I was glad that Dean felt happy after all this time of sorrow and hatred for himself. I was glad that I had played a part in making him feel better. But I could not let that conversation lead anywhere further than that. I had to find God. After the job was complete, I could spend more time with Dean.