A/N: And I'm back! I've hit my NaNo target, and won my free facebook banner (but seriously, I'm so pleased that I hit the 50k target 4 days early!) and thought there was no better way to celebrate then to get back to Supernatural! I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but then I started writing and realized, there's still more to do, so extra hoorays! Also, five bonus points if you can work out which YA angels series I have read and enjoyed and likened to the end of series eight … little insert of a few of those angels in this chapter! Not intending to make it a crossover, just thought it would be funny ;) Thank you, as ever, for reading!


Castiel looked around him on the planes of heaven. He was, once again, in the version of heave he liked best, the one created by the autistic man who drowned in a bathtub. They never spoke to each other, each wanting to find peace here, normally. But Castiel wasn't focused on the autistic man, he was staring at the few angels he had assembled, angels he thought were still loyal to him, angels who wanted to fight against Raphael, and avoid the apocalypse. Angels, that Castiel had believed, wanted to protect the humans as much as he did. Not all angels were jealous of the love and freedom that God had bestowed on humans, after all.

'One of you has betrayed me,' Castiel said firmly, glancing around each face as he spoke for any flicker of a change in expression, a secret outpouring of guilt that would express itself physically, subconsciously. None so far. 'One of you has joined with Crowley, has associated yourself with the king of Hell, and attempted to make Dean Winchester forget everything. One of you,' the power of his speech, of his fury, of his hurt and sense of betrayal, amplified his voice so it echoed around the drizzly park. 'One of you seeks to undermine me by interfering with Dean. Have I not made myself clear on the subject of the Winchesters? On our need to protect humans? And yet you have as little respect for them as you do for me, for our cause, for heaven itself.'

The very atmosphere crackled with his rage, but no angel gathered stepped forward, or offered any discreet sign that they had interfered.

I'll make this clear, to all of you. If the betrayer does not step forward, I will smite you all. The rest of you biting your tongues and keeping this person in your ranks are clearly as rebellious, as unconcerned with our aims as the person hindering our progress. This is the last chance I am giving you to step forward and admit to your sins.'

A girl stumbled forwards, pushing her wild black hair out of her face, trying to find her footing and stand tall in front of Castiel. Castiel's eyes travelled down her, taking in her ruffled, gothic style dress. She jutted her chin out, trying to seem confident.

'Why, Lucinda?' Castiel's voice was softer than it had been. Her voice betrayed her fear, shaking as she responded.

'Crowley had captured my Daniel. And I'm sorry Castiel, but he comes first. And Crowley told me everything, he told me it all, and I-'

She got no further, as Castiel had flicked his hand, and let his angel blade slip into his hand while she pleaded, and then plunged it into her chest, level with her heart. She began spluttering, coughing up the fresh blood that was pouring through the fresh gaps, as the brightness of her Grace shone through her being. A few moments later, her Grace had left, and Lucinda was no more. Castiel looked at the few angels still gathered.

'Understand, and spread the word, that I will not tolerate dissention in the ranks. While we fight in heaven, we fight in unity. We are trying to prevent the chaos that Raphael chooses to bestow, on mankind, Hell and Heaven.'

The gathered angels nodded, and left Castiel alone, going about the various tasks they had been assigned by Castiel. He looked around himself, and then zapped himself back to Bobby's house, hiding once again.


Dean had sat beside the door to Bobby's demon shelter for days, listening to Sam's screams and cries of terror, his desperate pleas, and worst of all, his prolonged sobbing. He had spent the time trying to understand the shift in his memories, how he suddenly was able to remember life with Sam, while at the same time remembering the alternative history, the one without Sam in it at all. It was almost seamless, the way Sam had been cut from his memories, replaced by other people who had had some influence, like Jo, Bobby, or even Garth.

The thing was, Dean contemplated as he sunk another fifth of bourbon, he'd liked the notion that he worked alone. It made sense. Unhindered by anyone else, he could follow his intuition and get the job done quickly, no hesitation as to whether or not he'd done the right thing. But with Sam there … yes, he added to the job, he could see things faster than Dean, spent more time researching through myths and legends and lore to know exactly what they were facing. But he also hindered Dean, a little at least, asking him to think, to consider, to know what they were facing. Dean was pretty sure he took less time dealing with beasts and ghosts on his own.

It hadn't slipped Dean's notice that, in his recently released memories, Sam was exactly the person that he and Bobby had made up, at least on a surface level. But Dean understood that Sam was more than that, it went deeper, and actually, it made him a pretty damn good hunter. They were a dream team, with Dean's gut feeling and Sam's logic.

And, being completely honest with himself, he preferred it that way. He liked having Sam there, depended on him, almost. It made the long drives across country less unbearable, having someone with him who he enjoyed being with. No, it was more than that, the way he felt about Sam, it was more than a regular brotherly relationship. He didn't just rely on Sam, or like having company, he needed to keep Sam around so he could be sure that Sam was okay. Looking back, he knew that he'd practically raised the man going through hell in the next room, and his feelings must be similar to an adoptive parent. No one could look after Sam the way Dean could. That was the crux of it, and the entire reason why someone would try to take Sam from him.

So, Dean wondered, what was it that made him save Sam? He didn't remember him, didn't feel that almost parental pull, he didn't even think him as human at first. When Sam had first appeared, he thought the demons had made some crazy hybrid, and even when he was driving back to Bobby's, he was pretty sure he was going to kick Sam's ass somehow. He'd been relying on Bobby's crazy archives to try to work out what Sam could be, how to kill him.

Dean spent most of the bourbon trying to work out what had happened to save Sam from him, if there was anything at all. Was it his faith in Castiel? Or on some other level, did he always know that it was Sam, and what that meant? Nah, couldn't be, Dean didn't do 'other levels.'

The pitiful mewling from the shelter finally stopped, and Dean sat up a little.

'Sammy?'

'Yeah?' Sam sounded worn out, and winded, but much more himself than when he was screaming for the torture to end.

'It all out of your system?'

'Yeah, I think so.'

'Okay. Remember anything about the asshole who did this?'

'No.'

'Hey, man,' Dean leaned against the door, glad he couldn't see Sam as he said the other thing on his mind. 'I'm sorry, that I didn't remember you. That it took Cas to make me … you come first Sammy, no matter what.'

'I get it, Dean. Thanks.' Sam saved him from having to suck them both into an emotional scene. Dean nodded in gratitude, aware that Sam couldn't see him. 'Uh, Dean? Think maybe I could come out now?'

'Right,' Dean scrambled to his feet, and spun the lock mechanism on the door, pulling it slowly open. Sam stumbled out, and grabbed Dean in a hug, which he returned silently, slapping Sam's back a few times, grateful that Sam would rather communicate with a brief hug, and maybe talk of the next job.

'So,' Sam said as they stepped back, Dean's arms dropping like stones, and Sam pushing his through his hair, shoving it back. 'Did you get any leads while I was in there? About who wiped your memory, or how we're going to get Crowley?'

'No,' Dean stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, his shoulders hunching up through his discomfort. 'I was hoping I might remember, but I think they did it when I was asleep. I've been thinking about calling Cas, maybe seeing if he's heard something on Angel Radio.'

Sam's expression was enough to communicate to Dean that he didn't like the idea of paging Castiel in any more, that he was sure there was something going on with their angel that they didn't know about, that they wouldn't want to know about. Dean didn't question Sam's doubt, instead he answered it.

'Come on Sam, it's Cas. And he just saved your life.'

Neither of them mentioned that Castiel had just saved Sam's life from Dean.