A/N: Thanks to suburbantimewaster and guest Cindy for another great review! And thanks to Lysandria and XXBlackfireXX for reviewing as well! Excited to have ya! And of course, thanks to those who have followed/favorited this story- you're all fantastic!

Because Season 10 is airing on Tuesday, I want to give you guys a special treat: I'll update Chapter 10 tomorrow night! Thank you, all my lovely readers!


Chapter Nine

Light fought its way through his eyelids. Consciousness returned to Castiel, and he slowly blinked his eyes open.

The blurry, grinning face in front of him was the last thing he wanted to see. He groaned, closing his eyes again. "What are you doing?" he mumbled.

Metatron's voice lilted in an annoying way as he spoke. "Why, Castiel, I believe I just saved your life."

Castiel opened his eyes again, feeling more awake now. His head throbbed. Images of Dean's hunched back and the gleaming first blade and holy fire flashed somewhere in the back of his mind. It was all coming back now.

"Castiel." He turned his head, and saw Hannah standing beside him. He realized he was in a kind of hospital bed. And he was in Heaven.

"Hannah…" He tried to sit up, but his head pounded and his chest constricted, so he laid back down. "What… happened?"

"I called for help," Hannah replied simply. "We knew the only way to save you was through Metatron."

"And how did…?" Castiel's question broke off when he saw the answer. He was hooked up to a tube that was feeding him a red liquid. Blood.

Metatron had a tube coming from his arm as well, feeding into another bag of blood.

Metatron's blood.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Angel blood?"

Metatron's grin made his entire face wrinkle. "You've got it, buck-o. Angels have traces of their grace flowing through their veins. It will help recharge your batteries, but not for long."

It was so simple. Castiel probably could have figured that out himself, and now he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

"There are a few catches, though," Metatron said, face becoming all-seriousness. "The angel has to willingly give you his blood. Otherwise, it won't work, and the grace will be further corrupted."

Castiel nodded. That made sense. "Anything else?"

"Well. It keeps you alive. But your powers will continue to be limited. It's only a small portion of grace you're getting here. It'll burn low soon enough. You need to keep replenishing… maybe every week or two, depending on how much energy you use… and it'll keep you alive."

Castiel was quiet for a few moments. "That sounds incredibly tedious."

"You're telling me," Metatron said, leaning back in his chair. "I'll be the one providing your blood, my friend."

Castiel scowled. "What? Why?"

Metatron smiled. "Just like human donor blood, it has to be compatible between the giver and the receiver. God made some of our grace different than others. You, my friend, can only receive my type of grace. The grace of the privileged."

"You?" Castiel said, not quite believing what Metatron was saying. "Why are you any different?"

Metatron looked offended. "I'm the scribe of God, Castiel. He made me out of the same mold that he made the archangels."

Castiel put two and two together. "So I can also receive blood from an archangel?"

"Which archangel will you be receiving blood from, dear boy? Michael? Oh, wait, you locked him in a box. With Lucifer." Metatron put his finger against his chin, making a show of pretending to think hard. "Raphael? Oh, wait. You killed him. And Gabriel…"

"I understand," Castiel cut him off. "There are no archangels left."

"Precisely." Metatron ruffled Castiel's hair. "You've just got me, buddy."

Castiel couldn't even imagine being tied down to Metatron for the rest of his life. But for now, it'd have to do.

"We must help Sam look for Dean," Castiel declared, attempting to sit up again. This time he could.

Metatron held up a finger. "Aren't you forgetting something, Castiel?" He spread his arms wide. "I have to help fix Heaven. That was part of the deal, wasn't it?"

Castiel nodded. This was going to be more complicated than he'd thought. "I'll just come back whenever I need your blood," he said simply. "But… I have to help Sam."

Hannah cleared her throat. "Castiel, can I talk to you?" She glanced meaningfully at Metatron. "In private?"

Castiel nodded, and Metatron patted him on the head before unhooking himself from the blood bag and leaving. Castiel could always get Metatron's blood to go, he supposed.

Once Metatron had left, Hannah stepped closer until she was right above Castiel. "I understand how important it is for you to find Dean," she started. "But… we need you here. Now. Who knows what Metatron might do around here while you're gone?" She shook her head. "I don't trust him."

"I don't either," Castiel agreed.

"I think I can speak for all of the angels when I say that we'd feel a lot safer if you were supervising the rebuilding of Heaven." She sat down in Metatron's seat, leaning forward. "We're lost without you."

Castiel had a feeling it would come to this. Again, the image of Dean about to plunge his blade into Hannah made an appearance in his mind.

Hannah seemed to sense his reluctance. "Sam is looking for him. We have angels keeping a lookout. The best place you can be right now is here."

Castiel knew she had a point.

"You don't even have to be our leader," she pressed. "Just be here. For us. Help us."

Now he knew he couldn't resist. "Alright," he said finally. "I will help you rebuild Heaven."

Hannah's face broke into a smile. "Thank you, Castiel," she said. She took his hand in hers for a moment, then stood. "Get some rest."

Castiel nodded, and she left.

He stared at the blood bag that was giving him life for a while, trying to collect his thoughts.

It looked like he wouldn't need those blood bags to go after all.


Sam's heart pumped in anxiety when Cas called. At least he was still alive. He answered, hoping for good news.

"Cas! How you doing?"

"I'm… fine. I'll live."

"Did you make a deal with Metatron?"

"…yes."

Sam waited. "Well? What was it?"

"Sam, Metatron is the only one who knows how to fix Heaven. So, he helped me with my grace, and is now helping rebuild Heaven."

Sam's insides twisted as he realized what this must entail. "He's free, isn't he? You let him go?"

"Not exactly. He's under intense supervision. He's not allowed to leave Heaven." There was a pause. "Not without me, anyways."

"So what, you've got him on a leash now?"

"In a manner of speaking. He is the charger to my batteries. Without Metatron, my grace will burn out."

Sam took a swallow of his beer. He was at a bar in Connecticut, trying to plan out his next move. "So then he has you on a leash."

"I hope not for long," Castiel sighed. "But Sam, I need to tell you something. I saw Dean."

Sam nearly choked on the beer he had just tipped into his mouth. He set it down, coughing a few times. "What? Where?"

"Where Metatron killed him."

Sam waited for Castiel to elaborate. "So? What happened?" he pressed.

"He had Hannah in a ring of holy fire. Apparently he was questioning her."

"About what?"

"Us. He was asking questions about us. And Metatron."

Sam froze, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "So… did you talk to him?"

"No. No… I did not. He got away before I could."

"He didn't… hurt anyone, did he?"

"He was going to murder Hannah." Castiel sounded tired, worn out. "I showed up just in time and he… he left."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Sam asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm afraid… I'm afraid I have to help here. I'd rather help you look for Dean, but given the circumstances… it's probably best that I'm here. As soon as we're done, I'll resume searching for Dean, if you haven't found him already."

"Okay." Sam nodded. "Okay, sounds good, Cas."

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Crowley's out there. Dean left him behind. I don't know if he's found Dean again or not, but it didn't sound like he knew where Dean went. Maybe… maybe he could help you."

Sam huffed out a laugh. So they were working with Crowley now. That's what got Dean into trouble in the first place. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll see Cas. If I get desperate, I guess."

"Good luck, Sam."

"Yeah. You too, Cas."

He hung up.

It was a lot to take in. Metatron was actually keeping Castiel alive, Dean had almost killed an angel after questioning her…. Sam was about to take a sip of his beer, but paused. He set it down without putting it to his lips.

Metatron. Dean had been asking about Metatron.

That would mean he knew Metatron was alive.

Sam left the bar quickly. He was going back to the bunker. He would keep looking for Dean, let Castiel help rebuild Heaven. But if he ran completely out of leads… Metatron could be the ticket. He could be used as bait. The only thing was… he was the only thing keeping Cas alive right now.

So, it would be a backup plan.

After he settled all the details in his mind, he called Castiel back.


That first run-in with Candi was pathetic. Lame.

What kind of first impression was that?

So, the next time he ran into her, he dropped a pack of Pepsi cans on her. Well, not quite on her. He missed. Just barely.

She had been pushing her cart past his Pepsi tower, and he couldn't resist drawing some attention. Also, he wanted to see how she'd react.

So, while perched on his ladder, he waited for the perfect moment, and dropped the pack. It hit her cart, making a loud clanging noise. She squealed, jumping back from the cart.

It was hilarious.

Her wide eyes found his, and he could almost feel the speed of her heartbeat in them. "Be careful, would you?" she said in a wobbly voice.

"You have any broken bones?" Gabriel asked, sliding down the ladder.

She looked caught off-guard by his question. "No…"

"Bruises?"

"Well, but—"

He was now right in front of her. He bent, surveying her. "Hmm. Not even a scratch."

Now she was scowling at him. "Pretty sure I could have been hospitalized."

"Pretty sure that's not necessary," he shot back with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. "You… you're that guy I ran into a few weeks ago."

Wow. Good memory. Still, he made a show of trying to remember her. Finally, he snapped his fingers. "Runner girl. Should be more considerate. Some of the guys go for the clutzy type, but…"

Now her eyebrows had shot up into her bangs. "Excuse me? You're the one who popped up out of nowhere!"

Now he really had her riled up. This was fun. "Psh." He waved his hands. "You were desperate for attention that night, clearly. Today seems to be no different."

Candi looked like she wanted to smack him across the face. Her own face had flushed red. She clutched the handles of her cart. "I'm talking to the manager about you." Then she frowned in a moment of confusion as she fully took in his Pepsi uniform. "I thought you said you were the new lighthouse keeper!"

"Maybe I was lying," Gabriel said, climbing back up the ladder.

Now it was her turn to smirk. "I can see why—Delivering Pepsi is quite a step down from being lighthouse keeper." She spun around and pushed her cart (rather viciously, Gabriel noticed) towards the check out.

"Better watch out for any rogue Pepsi cans," Gabriel called after her.

That instance had been so much fun that he tried it again. This time, he stole her bike. She had ridden it to that little boutique she worked at, and just left it sitting by the lamppost outside the door. He made a show of jogging past the window, where he knew she was rearranging the display case, and stop, glancing at the bike before barging inside. He even feigned surprise when he saw her, staring with disbelief at him.

"Oh hey, runner girl." He jerked his thumb back at the door. "Can I borrow that bike there?"

The shirt she was clutching was going to twist out of shape if she squeezed it any tighter. "No."

"Kay, thanks, be right back!" he called, dashing back outside and grabbing the handlebars. He rode off before she could even react, laughing to himself as he replayed the image of her face over and over in his mind. She was really going to hate him now.

Fifteen minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of the boutique. He peered into the window to see Candi scrambling from the counter and rushing outside. Her face had gained that red hue again.

"You jerk," she practically growled.

His grin stretched wide across his face. "Thanks for the bike." He grabbed her hand, turning it palm-up. She squirmed, trying to break free, but he slapped a tanning coupon into her hand. Her blue eyes darted up to his, a fire kindling inside them. He smirked again, then turned away and lost himself in the crowd, whistling as he went.