I'm really excited to have finally been able to write this chapter. I've been aching to do a Castiel chapter in his POV for a long while now. It is, after all, a Diestel story in the works here so it was bound to happen eventually. Time to move the plot along and get some feels along with it at the same time.

Chapter 9: Memory and Madness

The road passed along, stretching out at Emanuel watched the trees and grass by the road slip past. They'd had to stop so Dean could sleep, finally passing out in the car. He'd groggily told him to wake him up in an hour so he could drive again, yet when he had reached out to wake him, something had stopped him. His hand had been close to his shoulder, only an inch away before it had moved to his cheek, peppered with stubble and creases on his face. It had struck him as odd. Dean did not seem old enough to have such marks on his face, such worry on his brow. He had stared at him, wondering about it, how someone could look so young and so old at the same time. For hours the sight of the man had captured his attention, even as the night passed and gave way to sunlight. He memorized every blemish on his skin, the soft look of his lips and every way he shifted as he slept.

Emanuel didn't need to sleep, yet everyone around him did. It was a strange sight to him every time, like watching Daphne sleeping. He'd often looked at her and found her so fragile, sat on her couch as night passed and she slept in her room until one day she had smiled at him and invited him to rest next to her, even if he didn't need to. Watching her sleep had been the same as sitting in the living room and watching the furniture, unchanging, nothing different as she laid still under the covers next to him.

He hadn't found himself as nearly as fascinated by her as he was with Dean, and he didn't understood that.

When Dean had finally awoken, he'd checked the time and cursed under his breath as he started the car and drove off. Emma had groaned and rolled over, also awake now, but looking stiff in her bedraggled state.

"I thought I told you to wake me up," he had groaned as he began to drive. "Damn it, how much time did we lose?"

"Apologies. It seemed better if you got your rest. You didn't seem to be in condition to continue behind the wheel of a car," Emanuel had excused, not feeling it would have been best to share the truth.

"Get around to teaching me how to drive, and we won't have this problem next time, Father," Emma said while she'd stretched out as best she could. "I can drive while you sleep."

"Yeah, yeah. Add it to the list," he'd shot back, pushing the pedal to the floor and speeding off as fast as possible.

That had been several hours ago. It seemed Dean was trying to make back lost time as much as possible. A pit of guilt had begun to settle in his stomach. His brother Sam needed help and from the looks of it, it seemed he needed it as soon as possible. Yet he had allowed himself to become distracted. Though his words hadn't been untrue. He did not think that Dean would have been in the proper shape to drive, especially in the dark, after only a single hour of sleep. Still, perhaps it was not his place to prioritize such matters between their family.

The ride at that point had been mostly in silence, though the driver did occasionally make the odd comment, asking Emanuel about himself. He seemed interested in the healing he had done before, who he had helped. It had really been everyone and anyone that had come to him. There was only so much one man could do, but he liked to think he had made other people better as much as he could manage. The small talk seemed mostly polite though. It was clear there was only one thing Dean was focusing on.

He glanced over at the man, his head tilting to the side slightly to try to get another good look at him.

"You push yourself so hard for your brother," the healer said softly.

"Sammy needs looking after. He always has," he replied, refusing to look back at him, but he noticed he'd gripped the wheel much harder than he had before.

"What I've said seems to have distressed you. I'm sorry. I only meant that it's an amicable quality," he assured him. "I didn't mean any offense."

"Well, we're family. You never give up on family," Dean said, to which Emanuel looked in the backseat at Emma. She met his eyes only for a minute before looking away, glancing out the window. It was remarkable how much she looked like her father. Odd how he'd known them only a short time and yet the features seemed etched into his brain so completely. "Taking care of Sammy is just what I do. It's what I've always done. He's my little brother."

"That only makes it only more commendable that you've done it for so long," he informed him.

Dean's eyes met his own for a moment, his expression seeming to soften before he shook his head and looked away. He wasn't sure what he felt about this conversation. He was trying to say something complimentary and yet it seemed to have been distressing him. Even though Dean said nothing, he had the feeling his words were not having the effect he was hoping for.

"I'm going to stop for a bit," he said after a few minutes as they pulled into a town. "Gotta get something for breakfast, well lunch now I guess. Emma, you want something?"

"Yeah. Some burritos if they have any. Otherwise a couple of sandwiches will be fine," she said with a nod. "Um… Emanuel, you want anything?"

"Oh, no. Thank you. I appreciate the offer but I don't really… well, eat," he admitted to the pair. He could, but he never seemed to get hungry, and more than that it never seemed to taste as it should when he tried. He had shared some meals with his wife, not wanting to just sit with her while she ate and do nothing, but he wasn't sure how much money the pair of travelers had and did not wish them to waste their funds on him.

"Right. Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Dean said as he drove around until he found a convenience store across the street. Parking, he looked around for a moment when he got out of the car. He leaned in through the window to address his daughter. "Emma, stay here with him, okay? Just sit tight. I'll be right out."

"Okay," she said with a nod. The two of them watched him cross the street before she coughed a little and leaned over the driver's side seat. He couldn't help but notice her staring at him.

"Yes? Is something the matter?" he asked her.

"No. Well, nothing's the matter," she admitted. "Just kind of curious about you, I guess."

"That seems to be a natural reaction to me," he conceded. "I suppose with the things I do, how I help people, that is only to be expected."

"You don't remember anything?" she asked. "Like… nothing at all?"

"I'm afraid not. Before I was found, everything is a blank," he told her.

"Yet, you know you're not… normal. Not that I mean any offense but, you know you're not, right? A lot of people out there don't heal others like you say you can," she said.

"You don't believe that I can?"

"No, I believe it," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Trust me, I have plenty of reason to believe in things like this. I just was wondering if you realized you're different from other people."

"My abilities are different, yes. I am aware of that," he stated. "I believe God gave me the chance to help people, to do his work through me. I do not know why he chose me but it is a fulfilling feeling to know that I am able to help others thanks to Him."

She paused for a second and her shoulders sagged.

"It must be nice, having a purpose and all that," she mused. "Wish I did."

"What do you mean?" he asked her.

She hesitated a moment before craning her neck to look out the dashboard window, checking to see if her father was on his way back or not.

"Promise you won't tell my father?" she asked.

"I swear. Anything you say will be in held in the strictest confidence," he assured her. It was not polite to spread secrets after all, and Dean had informed him about Emma as well. Perhaps they both just needed someone to talk to.

"When I was with my mother, before… well, before I ended up with him, I had my life planned out for me. I knew what I was supposed to do, who I was supposed to be. My family had very clear expectations of me. Thing was, I hated it. I hated what I was told to do and how I wasn't even allowed to object. Every moment it bore down on me that if I didn't toe the line, I would be a disappointment to her and everyone else," she said softly. "Then I met my father and everything changed. He didn't have any of those expectations. He took care of me in a way no one else ever did before. I feel so grateful to him every day."

"I'm sensing a but is coming," he noted.

"But," she agreed, "he doesn't really let me do much either. When I first ended up with him he just wanted me out of the way. He said he was protecting me… and I believe that. I know he worries. He worries about me a lot. I think because of what's going on with my uncle. It's driving him crazy and I'm just kind of along for the ride. Even now, when he allows me some freedom, teaches and shows me some stuff I feel like it's not what I'm supposed to be doing. I didn't want what my mother wanted for me, but I don't exactly want what my father wants either. I feel like I should be doing more, that I have some purpose, just like you, but I don't know what it is or how to do it."

"That's not an uncommon feeling," he stated. "You're young still. Many your age have similar circumstances. You're not an adult yet, but you're getting closer to it every day. It is a part of growing up, finding a spot in the world for yourself. It's perfectly normal."

"Not sure normal is the word for me," she snorted. He refrained from saying so, but it was a reaction many teenagers had to such words. All of them felt their problems were new and unique, that no one understood them.

"You have a long life ahead of you," he stated instead. "Time enough to figure out what your purpose is. You'll find it. For now, just trust in your father. He clearly cares a great deal about his family after all. You care about him?"

"Of course I do," she said quickly, her tone almost a little offended as if he shouldn't even have asked. "I wouldn't even be around if it weren't for him. He's been great. Takes care of me and he's patient even when I get upset and mad at him. I've acted out and he just forgave me, treated it like it didn't happen. He's the best father I could have ever hoped for."

He smiled at her so strongly stating her feelings for the man.

"I think you'll be fine, Emma. No matter how things turn out for you, you have your father's love," he told her. "Whatever he does, it's to protect you."

"How do you know? You don't know him," she pointed out.

"No. No, I do not. Yet I can tell he's a good person," he admitted. "He wears that on his sleeve, so to say."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point about that," she said before sighing out. "By the way, I'm sorry I hit you. You know, back at the house?"

"Oh, it's alright. Under the circumstances, I think such a reaction is normal. Besides, it didn't hurt," he assured her. However, his words caused her to frown. "You wanted to hurt me?"

"Ugh. Don't say it like that. Makes me sound like a jerk," she grumbled but nodded. "I mean, at the time I did. That's just normal. I thought you were attacking me. Now I'm glad I didn't… but… I mean..."

She sighed again and her forehead thumped on the back of the car seat.

"It's a big world," she grumbled. "I didn't realize I was so small in it."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. Forget it," she said before she opened the door and climbed out. "I need to stretch my legs. You?"

"I think some air would do me good," he agreed and climbed out as well. "Your father seems to be taking his time though."

"Probably looking for pie. He loves the stuff," she said casually, but he noticed she seemed tense. She relaxed a moment later when he came back across the street. "Wait, who's that with him?"

He looked up at her words and immediately felt panic rising up in him at the woman trailing after Dean. It was no woman though, something darker, sinister and powerful.

"Her face! She's one of them," he exclaimed to warn Dean, but she only smiled.

"It's okay, we come in different flavors," the stranger said. "No harm here."

"What do you want, skin rider?" Emma said, immediately on the defensive. She'd stepped between the pair and Emanuel, though he didn't feel right about a child trying to defend him, he felt too shocked to put a stop to it.

"Cute," the demon said the at the sight of the teenager bristling at her, as if she was a cat being threatened by a mouse. "Been a while since I've seen one of you. I can assure you, whatever you want to do to me? Not going to do any good."

"She's a… a friend," Dean explained in a way that did not sound at all convincing. "Emma, don't do anything dumb, alright?"

"Are you kidding me?" Emma asked. "What's she doing here?"

"Meg," the demon supplied. "Just here for moral support. After all, we go way back."

Emanuel felt confused by the words, but she laughed a bit with another smile that he was sure she thought looked charming.

"Dean and me," she explained. "Just met you, of course. But I think we're going to be good friends too."

She walked up to approach him but Emma took a step forward, clenching her fists with a snarl. Despite her age, she stood at the same height at the demon and seemed determined to stare her down.

"Back off," the redhead growled.

"Ooh, feisty," Meg chuckled, but didn't try to get closer.

"Alright, can we go?" Dean said, clearly exasperated. "We've still got a long way to go."

Emma didn't move, not until Meg went for the backdoor of the car and sat down. Dean arched an eyebrow at her and she hesitated before she got in herself.

"Great. Just great," the man muttered. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

The air felt tense but the healer didn't feel right about saying anything and just got in as well, allowing Dean to drive. The food was passed out between him and his daughter, though Meg took nothing and just leaned back in her seat comfortably. She seemed to be the only one who wasn't wound up, the other two seeming all of a sudden very on edge.

It lasted for a long time, until it got dark again and they drove and drove. No one was saying anything any longer, and while the conversations he'd had with Dean had been a little awkward before, it had been much better than what was going on now.

Finally he couldn't stand it any longer and felt he had to say something.

"This silence is very uncomfortable. Is there something I should know?" he asked. He could tell something was being kept from him, but he was not sure what it was. How did Dean know a demon? How was she a friend? It didn't seem like a friendly relationship, especially with how Emma had been stiff and angrry the whole way through, scooted back in her seat to keep as far away from the demon as possible. Meg had playfully shoulder bumped the kid a while ago and Emma had nearly jumped her before Dean had snapped at the both of them to knock it off.

"Oh, I don't know," Meg replied casually. "Dean? Something he should know?"

"No," he said coolly. "Meg just has that effect. Awkward, you know?"

Despite what she was, he felt some sympathy for her. So far, she had done nothing bad that he could see. It couldn't be much fun for her, being so mistrusted.

"That must be difficult for you," he said softly to her, but she only frowned.

"Dean's making a joke, Emanuel," she muttered, to which Emma snorted in laughter.

"Yeah, sure," the teen muttered.

The healer had a feeling he shouldn't have said anything. Tense silence seemed better than barbed and veiled words. There was no doubt about it. There was something he did not know and no one seemed eager to share it with him.

They arrived not much longer, but it wouldn't be as easy as walking in. There was a group of people in the parking lot and Emanuel felt a jolt run through him as he looked at them. Even from far off, he could see their faces, the same twisted and carnal evil at Meg and the one who'd attacked his wife.

"Oh gracious," he breathed.

"Damn it. Demons," Meg muttered.

"All of them?" Dean asked.

"No grass growing under your feet," she quipped.

"How many of those knives do you have?" Emanuel asked.

"Just the one," he admitted before looking at Emma. "What about yours? It hurt demons?"

"The ones down there, yes," Meg said. "But only barely. I've seen the blades those women are so proud of and it's strictly low level. Good for grunts, but that's it, and only if you get them in a vulnerable spot like the neck. Doesn't immediately destroy them like your knife does, Dean."

"You shut up," Emma said with a frown. "My weapon is-"

"Your weapon is a pig sticker," she replied before Emma could even finish. "Made for a war you couldn't hope to win."

"Was good enough to chase your kind off. I know my history. We did win."

"Pah. I was there for that history, little girl," the demon replied. "Your land and people just weren't worth the effort."

"Fancy words just to cover up you lost!"

"Emma! Enough," Dean snapped. "Neither of you are helping."

"I agree," Emanuel said. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Yeah," Meg said. "You know any other idea on how to blast through that, Dean?"

Dean hesitated for a moment before moved toward Meg.

"Excuse us for a second," he said as the demon rolled her eyes.

"Oh for the love of crap," she said before she followed him.

"I don't like this," Emma grumbled.

"I have to admit, you're right," he told her. "She mentioned a war?"

"Yeah. I don't care what my father says. She's no friend of ours," she said coldly.

He'd had enough of this. There was too many questions hanging over all of this, too many cloaked words with meanings he did not know. However, he was starting to get a picture. He walked over to the pair of them, determined to get the truth.

"I gather we know each other?" he asked. With every word Dean spoke, every moment passed with him, he became more and more sure of it.

"Just a dollop," Meg stated with a smile.

"You can tell me," he assured Dean. The man seemed so agitated, so scared right now. He wanted to assure him, to let him know no matter what he learned that he would not turn away from him and his need. He'd help Dean, no matter what. Why did he not see that? "I'll be fine."

"How do you know?" he snapped back, the build up in his body seeming to explode. Words spilled from him, like he'd wanted to say them for a while. "You just met yourself! I've known you for years!"

"You're an angel," the demon cut in, clearly not wanting to wait for the drama to play out. Her words only confused him though.

"I'm sorry. Is that a flirtation?" he asked her.

"No, it's a species," she informed him with a roll of her eyes. "A very powerful one."

"She's not lying," Dean admitted. "Okay? It's why you heal people. You don't eat… I'm sure there's more."

There was more… but Emanuel wasn't sure he knew what it was.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" he asked him. "Being an angel, it sounds pleasant."

It certainly explained why God had given him the abilities to help so many people.

"It's not. Trust me," Dean corrected him. "It's bloody. It's corrupt. It's not pleasant."

"He would know. You used to fight together," Meg stated, looking like she was enjoying every second of this. "Best of friends actually."

If the words were meant to be reassuring, they weren't. In fact, it was having the exact opposite effect. The words Dean had spoken before were starting to come back to him.

"We were friends?" he asked and he couldn't help but note the moment of pain that flickered across the man's face. "Am I Cas?"

Silence greeted him, but it seemed to be answer enough. It was not that someone had hurt Dean's brother, hurt him, it was that the one who had done it was himself. He'd broken Sam and he didn't even remember who that was, no face in his mind to put to the face. He felt his heart ache for Dean, sure this had to be so painful for him. No wonder he had not said anything.

"I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry," he urged to him, wanting Dean to understand how sorry he felt about all of this. Guilt was building up inside of him, gnawing at him.

"Look, you got the juice," Meg cut in. "You can smite every demon in that lot."

He turned away from the group, his throat feeling tight. Despite her words, he felt hesitant. He was still caught on the pain this must be causing for Dean, how betrayed he had to feel about all of this, scared to tell the truth for fear of the consequences. How bad of a friend had he to have been that the man would be so cautious around him so as not to allow him to remember?

"But I remember know how," he said softly. There was so much he didn't remember.

"It's in there," Dean assured him. "I'm sure it's just like riding a bike."

"I don't know how to do that either," he admitted.

"Don't feel bad. Neither do I," Emma pointed out, probably trying to be helpful.

Dean only looked stressed out by the whole situation, and Emanuel knew he had to go down there whether he knew what to do or not.

"Alright. I'll try," he said before he started to stride up to the parking lot. He set off with a determination, hoping it would come to him if he started with enough confidence.

The demons noticed him approaching, seeming shocked at the sight of him.

"Hey, I know you," one of them said, glancing around. Wanting back up or just afraid, Emanuel wasn't sure. He supposed it didn't matter. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Yes, I've heard," Emanuel said before he grabbed him and yanked him forward. He almost apologized for what he was about to do, but the words never left him as he pushed his hand to his forehead to banish and kill the foul thing.

Memories burst forth in his mind, exploding inside of him without a moment of mercy. It flooded inside of him, the sight of Dean the first time he'd met him, the uncertainty in the hunter as he explained who he was. Castiel, angel of the Lord, a soldier on a mission to help Dean save the world. Dean, who he'd started to feel sympathy for in his hard life, who'd grown to feel attached to.

Dean, who he had fallen for both figuratively and literally, worked to save him and his brother… and he'd failed. They'd stopped the apocalypse but it had cost Sam and in it all, he'd betrayed Dean over and over again. Taking Sam from Hell and refusing to tell Dean, breaking his mind, unleashing the Leviathans…

All of it burned into him as he killed the demons without a single one getting away, standing there in the lot and feeling all alone and cold in this wide world. He heard words spoken by Meg, but they didn't register. Everything bore down on him, even as Dean called out for him uncertainly.

"Cas?"

Such a simple thing, a little nickname. It shouldn't have mattered to him. He'd been built as an angel, a celestial being who was supposed to be without feelings or longing, and yet the name meant so much to him.

And he'd thrown it away like it had been nothing, even though it had been his whole world for the time he'd been allowed to have with Dean.

He turned to the three, all of them staring at him but he only had eyes for hunter, not the two women behind him. Guilt and fear flooded him, fear he'd never have Dean again, that his betrayal had ended whatever good will he'd worked so hard to build with the hunter.

"I remember everything," he breathed as self-loathing hit him. "What I did. What I became."

Emanuel seemed to fall away as Catiel took his place, understanding hitting him with an unmerciful force.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Sam is dying in there," Dean stressed.

"Because of me," he threw back. "Everything. All these people… I shouldn't be here."

He shoved his way past the group, intending to run. He needed to get away, needed to find some sense to all of this.

"Cas? Cas!" Dean yelled after him. "You two stay here!"

He felt Dean following him, and found himself wishing he wouldn't. As much as he longed for Dean to still want to be by his side, as much as he still needed the human, he didn't deserve it.

"Cas, if you really remember then you know did the best you could at the time!"

"Don't defend me!" he snapped back. Dean couldn't possibly mean that, and if he did it was even worse. The hunter still having faith in him burned and he hated it. "Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven, on Earth?"

He'd caused too much damage, and while it had been with good intentions, there had been pride there as well. He thought he was special, brought back by God to save humanity and he'd abused that trust from God.

Abused the trust from Dean.

In all his memories, as long as he'd been alive… He was aware before humanity had even taken its first steps and the first thing that had come back to him was the hunter, their relationship and how he'd tossed it away.

"We didn't part friends, Dean," he breathed.

"So what?" he asked.

"I deserved to die," he stressed. So what? How could he say that? After all the hurt he'd experienced because of the angel and that was his answer? So what? He had to be hurt by this. Why was he acting so forgiving?! "I can't possibly fix it. So why did I even walk out of that river?"

"Maybe to fix it," Dean breathed. As if he could do that. Where would he even start?

He watched Dean open the trunk of the car and pull something out. Surprise filled him as Dean handed him his trench-coat, still stained with blood and grime. He still had it? After all this time, after what he'd done? Why? The hunter could not have possibly known that he was going to come back. What would have inspired such actions? Mourning? Loyalty? Castiel didn't feel worthy of either.

Yet he took it, because he couldn't refuse. He could not refuse Dean anything. He never had been able to, as much as he'd once tried.

"I'll save Sam," he promised him softly. "But how can you still believe in me?"

"Because you're Cas. Because… well, just because, okay? Does it matter?"

"No," Castiel admitted. "I suppose it doesn't."

It never did matter, not really. The things between them were unspoken. They always had been. That was where Dean was comfortable with it being. The human had never moved forward, never said a thing about their bond, and Castiel had never felt right about pushing his own feelings onto him.

How could he tell Dean he loved him so deeply, when he knew how unhappy such feelings would make him, how uncomfortable it would all be for him? He certainly could not say it now, not after everything that had happened.

"We should go," he said as he shrugged the coat on. As always, things were just best left unsaid.

There was only one demon inside the hospital with Sam, and it died just as quickly at the others, probably not even aware as he destroyed it completely and utterly. The younger hunter was a mess, twitchy and shaken as his eyes darted around wildly like a caged animal afraid to be hurt. He quickly freed him from the machine attached to him, wondering what kind of torture he'd been forced to endure.

"I never should have broken your wall, Sam. I'm here to make it right," he said, touching him to fix him, trying to remake the wall, build it again and make it stronger.

Only to have nothing happen. Dread and realization hit him as he saw it have no affect on Dean's younger brother.

"Oh Sam, I'm so sorry," he breathed.

They transported Sam back to his room, Emma easily lifting the tall and heavier man and getting him back in his bed, trying to make him comfortable. She tried not to touch him skin to skin as he jerked around, just pulling a blanket over him and whispering to him it would all be okay somehow.

Castiel didn't mention to Dean about her soul, throbbing strongly inside of her body and the mixed colors to it. He had a feeling the hunter had enough on his mind as it was. It didn't seem tactful to even ask about the girl, wondering how he'd ended up with an Amazon daughter of all things.

"There's nothing left to rebuild," he confessed to Dean.

"Why not?" the human asked.

"Because it crumbled," he explained. "There were pieces left after my actions, but they were crushed to dust by whatever is happening inside of his head now."

"So you're saying there's nothing?" he asked. "That he's going to be like this until his candle blows out?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "This isn't a problem I can make disappear. You know that."

Dean sighed softly and Castiel knew he didn't have a choice. There was one other option, one he knew he had to take.

"I may be able to shift it though. It would be enough to get Sam back on his feet," he said as he put a hand to Emma's shoulder, moving her gently to the side as she and Dean watched curiously. "It's better this way."

He sat next to Sam, placing a hand to his brow.

"This may hurt a bit," he told him. "And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you."

He tried to ignore the shouting of Sam as he felt the madness inside of his mind and soul, burning hot and angry. He grabbed a hold of it, pulling it inside of him. For a moment, the world seemed still, calm, nothing happening. Yet when he looked up, terror gripped him at the sight of Lucifer himself laying out on the bed and waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Hello, brother," he cooed.

He jerked up and scrambled away, pressing himself up against the wall as the devil laughed.

"Oh, one fallen angel to another, we have so much to talk about!"

Castiel didn't hear it, but he was sure he screamed.

End of Chapter

I've always felt that Castiel loved Dean and knew that he did, but never said anything because… well, it's Dean. The guy doesn't even tell Sam he loves him. It's sort of this unspoken thing on his part, and he gets very flustered about romances with men. Kind of in the closet about it, least that's the impression the show seemed to like to lean on.

In any case, if you would be so kind to leave reviews? I'm always eager to hear what you guys are thinking about this story and it helps keep me motivated and inspired. Pretty please?