"Your Grace," said Dean flatly.

"Yes," replied Cas.

"You gave me your Grace."

"Yes."

"You, Castiel, Angel of the Lord and multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, gave me, Dean Winchester, Human and God-hating bag of crap, your Grace," said Dean, gesturing exaggeratedly. He seemed amused.

"I don't think you're-"

Dean interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter. It echoed around the room and bounced back at them in a tin-like mimic of itself. It was an almost sinister sound.

"I spent forty years in hell," he said, chuckling. "I have tortured, killed, maimed, tricked, schemed, gambled, adulterated and broken so many laws that it's almost a world record. I'm sure I've broken all ten Commandments. And now, what, I'm an angel?"

"No, I don't think you're angel. At least, not a full one," said Cas thoughtfully. He didn't seem to even acknowledge Dean's list of sins – in Cas' opinion the good Dean had done far outweighed any bad. He just wished Dean himself could understand that.

"So what then, am I a Nephilim? Are you my daddy?"

"Nephilim are created when an angel and a human procreate. I have never had sexual intercourse with your mother so I think it's reasonable to assume that I am not your father."

"Alright, simmer down," said Dean, waving an irritated hand, though his lips quirked all the same and he shook his head in familiar exasperation.

He sat down on the one remaining chair in the warehouse, rope still looped around its legs where their prisoner had been restrained. He watched Cas pace in front of him as he silently brooded. The longer he thought about it the angrier he got, and his friend refused to meet his eyes.

"So, you don't know what I am, you don't know what this might do to me, what it might do to you? What the hell were you thinking, Cas?" Dean said.

"Dean, it was the only way I could think to save you. Your body was broken, your soul too damaged to keep you together. I couldn't heal you, Sam couldn't find any spells, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Not this!" said Dean, on his feet so quickly it was like he had never been sitting. His eyes bored into Cas' skull.

"Why are you so mad at me?" Cas asked, his own anger bubbling up in his chest. It felt very human. "I saved your life! Again! The least you could do is be grateful for my sacrifice!"

"I never asked for your sacrifice!" Dean shouted, closing in on Cas. "I never asked to be a hunter, I never asked to be attacked and I damn sure never asked to be followed around by some interfering angel that constantly screws everything up!"

Cas had never been so angry in his life. He closed the small distance left between him and Dean, blue eyes flashing with fury, and punched him square on the jaw so hard he heard it crack.

Dean didn't hesitate – instinct kicked in and he broke Cas' nose before the angel's fist had finished its trajectory.

Cas stumbled back, clutching at his face. Blood ran through his fingers and dripped down onto his borrowed shirt, but he barely noticed it. His eyes locked with Dean's and they stood facing each other for a long moment, breathing heavily and scowling.

Castiel was feeling more emotions at once than he had felt thus far, but the hurt and betrayal showed most clearly on his face. Dean saw it and sighed heavily – he took a step towards his friend, eyes widening in surprise as Cas flinched away from him. He took another step and this time the angel stood his ground, staring him down as if daring him to throw another punch.

Instead, Dean gently raised one hand and touched it to Cas' forehead. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the broken bone to knit itself back together the way he had been taught. He felt Cas' consciousness nearby, could feel the jumble of emotion that radiated from it. Automatically, as he had done before, he reached out towards it, but instead of being jolted back to himself he felt as though he were falling into it.

As he fell he was bombarded with images – memories, he realised – of him mostly. Everything he and Cas had been through together, all the fights, all the mistakes, all the victories. As he watched the memories started to flip faster, focusing on his face, his eyes, his smile. Lingering glances at his freckled face, moments where they had stood together, almost touching but not quite, words that had never been said aloud. Then, suddenly, he was thrown back into himself, so forcefully that he stumbled back and away from Castiel.

Dean tried to process what he had just seen, but it was all too much. He shook his head as if to clear it and started towards the door with barely a backwards glance.

"Dean."

Dean hesitated, pausing with one hand outstretched towards the door. Keeping his face carefully blank, he risked a look over his shoulder to see Cas looking imploringly at him.

"Dean, stay. Please."

The hunter paused for an agonising moment, then shook his head again and left in silence, leaving Castiel alone.


When both hunter and angel had left the warehouse, their silent witness descended from the rafters. He dialled a number on his phone, an eager smile on his face.

"Yeah, it's me. Put me through to Michael, I've got some information he's definitely gonna want."