Chapter Seven

Michael is the one who shakes Castiel awake.

"Castiel?" he says, reaching through the passenger side window. Castiel rouses slowly, but he soon is fully awake. "Come. We need to have a chat."

He climbs out of the Impala, bumping his knee against the steering wheel on the way out. It aches dully on the way down to the campsite. Adam is packing up his bag of marshmallows. Castiel sees that he does not seem to be in the brightest of moods. Adam kicks a tree branch aside.

"Oh, hi, Cas," he says, sounding a little relieved. "I thought you were gonna sleep another few days."

"Michael woke me," Castiel says. He looks around. "Where are the bodies?"

"Buried 'em," Adam says. "Good thing Dean and Sam kept the car stocked with shovels and shit."

"Yes," Castiel says with a frown. "When did you do that?"

"This morning. I couldn't sleep."

Adam's head twitches toward where Michael stands in the distance, but he manages to keep a straight face and look directly at Castiel.

"You're displeased with him," he notes. Adam rolls his eyes.

"That obvious?" he says sarcastically.

"Your displeasure with me could be seen from the moon, Adam," Michael says, joining them in the clearing. He shoots Adam a small, playful smile; Adam glares. Michael, still smiling, turns to Castiel. "So! Castiel. Back again from the dead."

"Yes," he says tentatively.

"Any idea who did it?"

"Killed me or brought me back?"

"Either," says Michael with a noncommittal shrug.

"No, to both."

"Might I trouble you for an account?" Michael asks.

"If you're gonna be human, stop talking like one of Shakespeare's bitches," Adam snaps. Michael ignores him, his focus still entirely on Castiel. He hesitates, for Adam looks like he is about to burst and pour hot lava on the former archangel's head, but Castiel eventually proceeds with the story of his most recent death, including the circumstances.

"Closing the gates of hell," murmurs Michael. "Such a tablet is valuable. And they had the prophet as well?"

Castiel nods.

"Great," Michael says, frowning.

"Why would Crowley want you and Adam?" Castiel asks. "He has everything he wanted."

"This," Michael says, gesturing at everything around them, "no one wanted this. No one really understands how it came to be, Castiel. Our escape is a consequence of the Change. The last thing Crowley wants is an archangel and his former vessel free from the most secure parts of his domain. It does not speak well of his security system."

"This is true," he agrees. "How is he aware you two made it out here?"

"We were being chased," Adam says. "I told you that."

"Yes," Michael nods. "We were close to the edge of hell…. It seems that there are three rivers now separating the three realms of the afterlife. We reached the nearest river, which we guessed was between hell and purgatory. I can confirm that."

"Is that—is that where you ended up?" Adam asks, looking sharply at Michael.

"Yes. We were crossing the river. We were near the source, and we could see land upstream," he explains. "It was the third bank we wanted, not purgatory's. Adam made it, but I was swept back in the current. I escaped hell's grasp, but I arrived at purgatory's door instead."

Castiel remembers purgatory well—the constant running, the hunt that never ended, the desperation to keep Dean safe. It had all been for so little, in the end. They both made it out, separately. They were on the fence with each other for a while, but things mended, once Dean learned to put purgatory behind him. They became comrades in arms again, as they had been during the days before the apocalypse. There was no doubt that either would die for the other: there was love between them, and the purity and clarity of purgatory and its aftereffects made that possible.

"But, you are familiar with purgatory, am I correct, Castiel?" Michael says, pulling Castiel out of his thoughts.

"Yes," he nods.

"When I was there, I ran into someone," Michael says. "Dean Winchester."

Castiel sits straight up, eyes wide.

"Dean?"

"Yes. Last time I saw him, he was there," Michael says.

"I do not understand," Castiel shakes his head. "If everyone is dead, how did he end up in purgatory? He was human."

"The man is a fighter," Michael says simply. "Crowley had plans for him, he said, so he ran as soon as the opportunity presented itself."

"I can't imagine you guys got on all that well," snorts Adam coldly.

"No, not at first, but we worked together," Michael says. "He is the reason I am out here."

"Well, how did you get out?" demands Adam, teeth clenched.

"Same as you," he explains. "We fought our way to the edge of purgatory, but instead of the whitish waters near hell, we found the dark waters that are familiar to us, Castiel. There were times, you might remember, when we came to the seas to witness Creation. You would have been quite young."

"I remember," Castiel says instantly. "I remember you there as well."

Michael smiles. Castiel flutters slightly.

"Adam found earth at one end of purgatory, at the intersection of it with hell and heaven, somewhere further off. But Dean and I found something at the other end, an island between heaven and purgatory," Michael explains. His eyes shine and his words quicken feverishly. "Castiel, it was the Tree—our Father's Tree. It is the last pure remnant of Eden."

"Eden?" Adam repeats.

"Purgatory is, in a sense, the twisted version of Eden, if one ponders it long enough," Michael says thoughtfully. He turns again to Castiel, saying, "We found it, Castiel."

"Incredible," Castiel breathes. "Truly."

"Do you know what this means?" Michael exclaims.

"No!" Adam interjects. "Seriously, guys. Human out of the loop here."

"The tree of knowledge," says Michael, "grants knowledge to the beholder."

"Fascinating," Adam deadpans.

"The consequences can vary, I would assume, but we only know what happened to the original humans," Michael says. "Some in heaven thought God was there, with the Tree, waiting for those worthy enough of its gifts."

"But doesn't the bible say that no one can eat from it?" frowns Adam.

"Have you been reading?" Michael asks, surprised.

"I'm not a dumbass, Mike. I know some stuff about this."

"You are right, but that was God's order to man, and that was before he punished mankind," he says. "Times have changed. God has stepped back, but I believe he is still out there. That island was our best chance of finding Him."

"Then why didn't you go?" Adam asks.

"I was experiencing technical problems," Michael says, suddenly gruff. "I needed to get to higher ground—to earth. I could not stand my current state, so I left."

"You left Dean there, in purgatory?"

"Yes, on the banks of the sea, staring out at the island," nods Michael.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Adam asks. "He'd probably burn the damn tree!"

"Oh, no, I do doubt that," Michael says. "Dean sent me with a message, should I find you, Castiel."

"How did he know I was alive?" Castiel says, confused. "He saw me die."

"He said you don't seem to know how to stay dead," Michael says with a small chuckle, "though that seems a little insensitive to me."

"Sounds like Dean," Adam grunts.

"What did Dean say?" Castiel asks impatiently.

"He said he is sorry, and that he will find you and Sam," Michael says slowly. "He also said not to worry about him, that he could fight his way out of purgatory again."

"What about Crowley?"

"He seemed to still be running from the forces of hell," Michael says. "Crowley wants his head on a plate, I believe. That is what one of the demons said last night, at least."

"So, they're looking for you and Dean?"

"And Adam," corrects Michael. "Crowley wants us all, and he'll want you when he finds out you're alive. He seems to think he has the upper hand in this mess."

"Dean gave you the knife?" Castiel asks. He feels numb all of a sudden.

"Yes. He thought I would need it more once I found you and Adam," Michael says. "I did not agree, but he is not someone to argue with when he does not want to be fought."

Castiel cannot help but smile at the thought of the archangel attempting to reason with an angry Dean Winchester. To Dean, it must not have been wholly unfamiliar, but Castiel is glad that Michael and Dean did not destroy each other upon their most recent meeting.

"Shouldn't we go?" Adam says, breaking the silence. "Crowley could be on our asses."

"Curious that they have not shown up," Castiel says.

"Perhaps in the new set-up, they cannot communicate as well between hell and earth or between each other," Michael speculates.

"Does it matter? We should've driven off at dawn!" states Adam. He stands up and plows uphill, Michael and Castiel trailing.

"He is not pleased with me," Michael says.

"No," says Castiel. "Why did you become human?"

"That," he say, jabbing his finger at Castiel's chest, right by where the grace dangles alongside the amulet. "It is not simply my grace. When we killed Lucifer—I presume Adam informed you about that?—I captured his grace and took it into myself, for the extra power. It was to make sure Adam got out safely. I never would have done something so detrimental to myself otherwise."

"What happened?" Castiel asks.

"My grace and Lucifer's seemed to merge, or at least his started eating away at my own. It was like having a second person within you, one that, rather than wanting to get out, wants to push you out," Michael shudders. "It was a constant struggle against him."

"But it's not him."

"It is his corruption."

"Ah. I understand."

"You see? I could not keep it, not without risking becoming a terrible form of Lucifer, even though he is dead," Michael says softly. "Adam will not understand. He wanted us both to emerge whole, but I did not tell him that our plan would damage me. I am lucky to have come out on earth where I was able to safely separate myself from the grace."

"I understand," Castiel mutters. He almost stops himself, but figures there is no harm in asking, "Michael, how does it feel?"

"Being human?" he says with a crooked smile. "It is the way the Garden once smelled, though I doubt you would remember that as clearly as I do. It is sweet, and strong, and all too overwhelming. But it is good. I feel, Castiel! I never believed I could experience such strange things, and now I feel it all, and so intensely! It is unlike anything I ever expected in my existence."

"Humanity is our Father's most perfect creation."

"I always knew that," nods Michael, "but there is a fine line between knowing, having the appreciation the obedient soldiers were taught to have, and understanding it, feeling it, savoring it."

"Mike, whatever it is you're talking about is making me hungry," scowls Adam from the driver's seat. "Come on. We've gotta go."

"Of course, Adam."

Castiel moves to open the back door of the car. Michael stops him.

"To answer your question—it was worth it."

"I see," Castiel says.

"What's wrong?" Michael asks.

"You seem very different," Castiel blurts.

"Last time I saw you, you threw a bottle of flaming holy oil at us," Michael recalls. "That is the past; don't worry. After hundreds of years in the deepest corner of hell, even the blindest of archangels can bend and learn to see."

"That's counterintuitive. How?"

"I had a guide, someone who taught me to think, and love," Michael adds. He glances at the car. "Adam. He is different, Castiel, but he is at least part Winchester; he is capable of as much pain and love as his half-brothers."

"You and Adam…."

"We get along well," Michael says. He opens the passenger door. "I am grateful to him."

"You talking about me?" Adam says.

"It is possible."

"Well, don't."

"No need to become agitated," Michael says. He sounds happy. Castiel opens the door and slides into the Impala. Adam starts the car and starts to drive.

"Wait," he says, braking abruptly. "Where are we going?"

Silence settles in the car. Eventually both Michael and Adam turn toward Castiel.

"Take your time, Cas. It's your call," Adam says finally.

"Me?" Castiel asks incredulously.

"Your choices are the ones that shake this world," says Michael. "Make one."

Something in the air shifts. Castiel looks out the window. Leaves rustle, trees wave in the wind, but nothing seems truly unusual. Still, Castiel shivers and feels uncomfortable, as though unseen ears are trained on him.

"Heaven," he decides. "We go to heaven."

Adam's eyes widen.

"You mean—?"

"Yes. We will find your mother, Adam."

Adam turns around and presses the gas pedal to the floor. All of a sudden, he stops again.

"Dean wouldn't like the way you're treating his car," frowns Michael.

"I don't give a rat's ass about Dean," he snaps at Michael, "but that's just it. What about him?"

"He said he would wait on that shore for as long as possible," Michael says. "He said if he couldn't get out to earth, he would be there."

"Maybe he has escaped," Castiel wonders.

"You would know," Michael says seriously. "You have that," he points at the amulet.

"I don't understand," Castiel says, his voice quavering ever so slightly. "It… burns at the strangest times."

"It burned when you found Adam, correct?" Michael asks. Castiel nods. "And it burned when you heard the voice in the church."

"How did you know?" he frowns.

"I heard the voice, too," Michael says. "I was far from here, and still recovering from removing my grace, but I heard it. Castiel, that is an artifact, an old piece from the vaults of heaven. I am curious how it came to be on earth."

"As am I," he says. "Dean had it for as long as I remember until he discarded it several years ago."

"Did anyone take it after him?"

"Not as far as I know," he says, shaking his head. "It remained in the trash bin after we left that town. I do not know more about its fate."

"And yet you found it again."

"In the warehouse, very close to the spot where I died," Castiel says. "It was not black when Dean possessed it."

"I know. I've seen it before," Michael says. "I remember once combing through the contents of the vault, to take inventory, not long after my brother's fall. I saw it there among the other weapons."

"So it's a weapon?" Adam asks.

"No… it is a tool," Michael says slowly. "More of a guide than anything. Yes, it burns in the presence of God, if He wants to be found, if that is what you love most."

The former archangel turns around in the seat to look at Castiel, who realizes how strangely small the man looks without his massive wings.

"If you have that, you can find Dean, Sam, any Winchester," Michael explains. He smiles, radiating a noticeable amount of warmth. Castiel is slightly put off. "Don't be afraid of this; it does not mean you do not love our Father. It is the way God made you."

"Okay, Mike, point made. Enough Sunday school. Cas, you've gotta choose: do we go to heaven, or do we find Dean? And what about you?" Adam asks Michael. "Can you come to heaven?"

"I can… but I cannot say if I can stay," he admits. "I am human."

"Damn it, Mike! Why can't you just shove that grace back in you?" Adam exclaims. Michael grunts uncomfortably, shifting his seating position. "Cas, give us a minute?"

"Of course."

Castiel slides to the door and exits the Impala, his bag still on his shoulder. He walks up the road back the way they came. Glancing back, he sees Adam gesticulating angrily at a still calm Michael. The man nods and takes in what Adam says, and Adam makes to shove him, only Michael does not resist. They disappear from Castiel's view, so he turns away.

Castiel walks to the edge of the road and sits down, his legs trailing downhill. He sets his bag beside him and pulls out the gun. There are enough rounds in it in case they are attacked, though he doubts they will be of any use against anything but humans. The air is cold, still. He decides to put on that extra layer before they leave. He put the gun down beside him for the time being. He turns the bottle of grace over between his fingers. It is rather small, but it glows more brightly than any manmade light Castiel has ever seen. He removes the necklace to look properly at the bottle.

The grace is there, in his hands, all for him. He could have the power of two of the most powerful angels in existence, plus his own. He could use it to go back, see what happened, and fix it all—after getting Adam to heaven, of course, and Michael, if he wants to go with him. But, even now, after everything, Castiel is not certain he wants it. He knows he will need at least some of its power in order to get Adam to heaven, unless they can get to the intersection of the worlds.

Castiel starts examining the map. He decides that if they can get to the place where they all emerged on earth they might be able to find the intersection. He stares at the map without really looking for another five minutes. He folds the map and directs his attention at the forest, but it is hardly different from any other forest. Finally Castiel stands and moves toward the car, curious as to why Adam and Michael are still out of view.

He does not have to come too close to the car to see why.

Adam is lying on top of Michael, and Michael's fingers are theading through Adam's hair. Michael's other hand is on Adam's back, his fingers pressing into the lean muscle through the back of his shirt. They have shed a layer at least, Castiel notices. Adam almost pulls out of Michael's grasp when Michael grabs him by the head and crushes him against his face. He kisses Adam with such ferocity, such unadulterated passion; his grasp on Adam is suddenly so tender and careful once he has Adam's lips against his, allowing Adam to dip into him for more.

"Adam, I still don't think Dean would like the way we are using his car," Michael says sounding utterly out of breath, yet utterly pleased.

Straddling Michael, Adam sits up and starts to take off his shirt, saying,

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Adam descends, meeting Michael with an equal amount of fervor as the man had demonstrated before, back arching, muscles visibly tensing under Michael's trailing fingers. Castiel takes this as his cue to leave them, so he walks away, his bag feeling somewhat heavier than before. The amulet feels cold as ice, even through the fabric of his shirt, but Castiel only notices when it begins to burn, and a voice begins to speak.

"Cas? Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, but damn it, I'm gonna try this anyway."

"Dean?" Castiel says aloud. He looks around. He is alone on the road.

"Listen to me. I dunno if you're dead, or if you're somewhere out there, 'cuz this world's fucked up now, so I don't even know anymore. But if you can hear me, just listen. I'm going to be okay. Focus on the others."

"What others?" Cas says. Desperation cracks his voice. "Dean!"

"Sam. Find him. Make sure he's okay."

"Can you hear me?" Cas says, wonder creeping into his voice. "Dean, I will find you, too. I swear it."

"Cas… if you're okay, stay safe. Hell's on my tail but I can take 'em, as long as they don't find you."

"Dean!" Cas cries. "Dean—"

The heat quickly fades from the amulet. Castiel grabs at it, rubs his hands against it, but the warmth is gone, as is Dean's voice. He feels shattered. Castiel drops his bag. A couple of rounds fall out and roll across the road.

"Oh."

Castiel takes a few steps toward the fallen rounds and bends to pick them up. His whole body feels heavy and tense and stiff, as though the hinges have not been oiled properly, or as though the strain is becoming too much. He feels weaker than he has in a while. Castiel tries to move his wings, but they feel more like paper at this point. His hand slides from the amulet to the bottle of grace.

I only need a breath of it.

On the edge of the road he sits again, his head pounding horribly. Castiel takes the necklace off and presses his fingers around the cork. He pulls gently; it just budges, but that is enough. Castiel feels its release, even so slight a release. The small amount of grace fills him. He can sense the grains of something darker, presumably part Lucifer's damaged grace, but there is very little in the amount that finds Castiel. He inhales it all in one sharp breath. His wings stretch involuntarily; Castiel can feel them properly again, fleshy and lustrous as they once were. Air enters his lungs more easily now.

A short note from the car horn startles Castiel. He blushes and turns his back fully to the Impala and its inhabitants. The grace made him feel better, but Castiel cannot help but feel pulled down by a weight heavier than earth itself.

Dean.