When he woke up, Castiel stumbled into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Ruby was sitting on the floor next to the oven, her head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling. Castiel stopped, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do next. She fixed her eyes on him.

"Finally," she said. "Is there an inch of this goddamn house that isn't covered in Devil's Traps? Your stupid brother thought it was just hilarious to pretend to let me out of one, only to let me get like four steps before running into another one."

Castiel bit back a grin. Not very well, though, because Ruby glowered.

"Yeah, it's super funny. I help you out—my info was good, wasn't it? And this is the thanks I get. Break the fucking sigil, you little shit."

"I don't know how," Castiel said honestly, plugging in the coffee maker and spooning thoughtless heaping spoonfuls of well-expired coffee grounds into the filter. "I'm new to all this."

"Oh, for the love—you get on the counter and scratch out any line of that design!" Ruby shouted, jabbing a finger up at the sigil on the ceiling. "Any line! This is not brain surgery!"

"I'm sure Gabriel had a good reason for keeping you locked up," Castiel said, hitting the button to start the coffee. "I don't want to do something stupid."

"You don't?" Ruby snapped. "You could have fooled me."

Castiel ignored her as he waited for the coffee to brew, poured himself a cup, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Castiel," she said through gritted teeth.

Castiel grabbed a knife out of the drawer, relished Ruby's minute flinch. He climbed up onto the counter. With the edge of the knife, he scraped a line out of the Devil's Trap.

Ruby stepped out from beneath it, looking surprised. She helped him down.

"That was surprisingly un-shitty of you," she said.

"Your information was good," he replied. "If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have found my brother. I owe you."

Her pale eyes locked on his, and she watched him keenly, as though she were trying to find the trick in what he was saying.

But he was grateful.

"Okay," she said dubiously.

Castiel held the mug of coffee out to her. "You want some?"

She took it and sipped it, sighing. "Your brother and the old man are cruel and unusual. I haven't had a thing to eat or drink since I got here."

"Demons don't need to," Castiel said, though it was a guess. Ruby's rolled eyes confirmed it, though, and he grinned.

"Beside the point," she said. "You're the only one with an ounce of humanity in this whole house. And I know that it's not a real stiff competition from some of us, but...thanks for the coffee."

She sipped it again, but kept her eyes on his face while she did. There was something vulnerable about that, and he shrugged, uncomfortable.

"You're welcome," he said, and hurriedly fixed his own coffee and fled back into the library.

When Ruby took about four more steps and wound up under another Devil's Trap, he pled ignorance.

Samandriel woke up after only a few hours, his eyes blinking open slowly. Castiel was right there, waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, watching Samandriel smile sleepily. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I promise." Samandriel sat up and stretched his arms over his head, then ran his hands through his mussed hair.

He looked pale, haggard, dark circles underlining his eyes. He put on a brave smile when he saw Castiel studying him, but it was a thin veneer over the exhaustion and fear that still fought for recognition on his face. When he moved it was slowly, painfully.

Intellectually, Castiel knew that he was stiff and sore rather than injured, but he couldn't help but spring up and help his brother, lowering his legs carefully off of the couch, propping him up with pillows. He sat next to him once he was situated, and put a hand on his younger brother's arm.

"You don't have to be," he said. "Fine. It's okay if you're not."

Samandriel didn't make eye contact. "I am."

"You were kidnapped."

"I know. Sam didn't hurt me. Not really."

Castiel bit his lip. "But John did."

Samandriel rolled his eyes. "Come on. He slapped me. I've gotten worse sparring with Gabriel."

"But he meant to hurt you, Samandriel. That's the difference."

"Do you want me not to be okay?" Samandriel asked abruptly, and Castiel quieted. "Because it sounds like you want me not to be okay. I'm okay."

Castiel nodded, taking his hand off of Samandriel's arm and leaning back against the couch to give his brother some space.

Samandriel's face fell. "I'm—I'm sorry. I—"

"Don't apologize," Castiel said. "I get it. Whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm here. I'll let Gabriel and Bobby know to leave you alone about it."

"I am okay."

Castiel knew that tone. It was the tone he himself always used when he was trying to convince himself that things were all right, that he would recover from whatever had just happened, that tomorrow would be better anyway, so he just needed to make it through tonight.

Brady—demon or not—had known better than to press him when he spoke like that. So he knew better than to press Samandriel.

So he just said, "I know," and wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders.

Gabriel found them like that a little while later. He came in from the kitchen balancing three steaming mugs in his hands. Castiel rose to help him, taking the two that Gabriel loosened his grip on.

"One's coffee and one's hot chocolate. Fight amongst yourselves," Gabriel said, sipping his own mug and sitting on the couch on the other side of Samandriel.

Hot chocolate in his, no doubt. There wasn't enough sugar in the world to convince Gabriel to drink coffee if hot chocolate was available.

"Is Ruby sulking?" Castiel asked.

"I told her to keep it down because Samandriel's not feeling well," Gabriel said with a grin. "But yeah. Epic sulking. So was I telling the truth? Are you feeling okay, baby bro?" He nudged Samandriel with his elbow.

"Yeah," Samandriel said, smiling briefly at Castiel when he handed over the hot chocolate. "A little stiff. But fine."

Gabriel, blessedly, knew better than Castiel in this instance and let it go. "Bobby's downstairs with Dean, getting a few more lessons on wards."

Samandriel grinned. "Bet that's a fun conversation."

"Well, the old man's not thrilled about being told how to ward his own house, and from a guy who looks like he's thirty no less, but he's listening."

"And complaining?" Samandriel guessed.

"Naturally."

Samandriel's grin faltered. He took a long drink from his mug before he said, "Sam is downstairs?"

"Locked up as tight as Dean and Bobby know how," Gabriel said. "Which, given that Dean is an angel, I'm gonna guess is pretty damn tight."

Samandriel nodded, hiding his face behind his mug as he took a very slow drink. Castiel didn't stare, didn't even look at his brother's face, but he saw the way that his hands shook around the mug.

"Sam was taken back to Heaven," Castiel said.

Samandriel startled and looked up. Gabriel leaned around, a confused tension on his face, but Castiel pressed on.

"Dean said he was taken for re-education. I think they brainwashed him, Samandriel. Or something like that. It wasn't the Sam you met before who did this to you. They hurt him up there. That's what Dean said. And now, Dean's going to try to fix it."

Gabriel scowled. "He doesn't need to hear about this right now, Castiel. He's got enough—"

"No." Samandriel's voice was firm, if quiet, and Gabriel cut himself off. "No. That's—it's good. I thought—"

He took a moment, warming his hands around the mug without speaking. Castiel could see the tension in his features, the way his mouth worked as he prepared words he didn't necessarily want to say out loud.

"He was really nice to me, you know? Before."

"I know," Castiel said.

"And when he took me, I—I thought for a minute that something was wrong here, like he was doing it to get me out of danger. But as soon as I got a chance to really look at him, I knew that yeah, something was wrong, but with him. But he—John had wanted him to kill me earlier. He didn't. He hesitated, at least."

"I know," Castiel said.

Somewhere down that hall two angels sat in a room that Bobby had built and warded, both having risked more for Castiel and his brothers than he could understand. Sam had been broken in a more profound way than he had words for, and even so, he had gone against orders—again—and was at least reluctant to harm Samandriel. Stalled at least long enough for Dean to show up.

Waited, despite knowing what the consequences would be, because he had already experienced them.

"You heard John say that he wanted Sam to kill you?"

All three Novaks startled at Dean's voice, and Gabriel cursed softly as his hot chocolate splashed onto his wrist. Castiel stared, wide-eyed, into the kitchen, where Dean was leaning against the door frame.

"How long have you been there?" Castiel asked.

Dean strode forward, ignoring him. "Samandriel. John said that? That he would take matters into his own hands?"

Samandriel inhaled shakily, but nodded. "Yes. He said that to me."

"I heard it, too," Castiel said quietly.

Dean ran his hands over his face, visibly pulling himself back together.

He crouched down and passed his thumb over Samandriel's brow and lip, healing the cuts. Samandriel tracked the motion, following Dean's thumb, which now bore just a trace of dried blood on it.

Samandriel reached out and took Dean by the wrist. Dean stared at him, and Castiel could see a glazed quality in his eyes, an uncertainty and a strange helplessness that seemed so out of place in an ancient, powerful being staring at a fourteen-year-old boy.

"Sam didn't hurt me, even when he was supposed to," Samandriel said. "He didn't hurt me."

"He kidnapped you," said Dean, his voice rough.

"He was supposed to kill me, but he didn't. It's important you know that. Okay? He didn't do it."

Dean was still for a while, his wrist still in Samandriel's grip. Samandriel released him eventually, and Dean sat—all but collapsed back onto the floor, then hunched over, one hand over his mouth and the other tangled in his short hair.

"He was right," Dean said.

Samandriel watched him, and Castiel put a hand on his younger brother's knee.

"Shit. He was right the whole time. About everything. About John, about our orders. They've been fucking gaming me."

Castiel shifted anxiously, because there was a rising anger in Dean's voice, and while he knew it wasn't directed at him, his proximity was enough to make him nervous. He'd seen Dean angry—he didn't want to be close when it happened.

Dean stood. "I'm going get my brother back, and then I am gonna make sure John knows exactly what a mistake he made by messing with you. You—" he pointed to Castiel, "—are my charge, and they gave you to me to watch over. And that means your brothers, too, whether my bosses like it or not."

He started to walk away, but stopped and crouched by Samandriel again.

"You are one strong fuckin' kid. Don't let anybody tell you different. And when I snap Sammy out of it, he's gonna be up here with one hell of an apology."

Samandriel cracked a smile—the closest to a real one Castiel had seen since his return, and he said, "Okay."

"Okay." Dean released him and strode quickly back towards the panic room.

Castiel hesitated, then hurried after the angel.

He caught up with him about halfway to the panic room. "Dean, wait."

Dean turned around, impatience tightening the muscles of his jaw. When he saw Castiel, he kept walking. "What?"

Castiel hesitated, but pressed on, following behind him. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Sammy?" Dean turned his head briefly and Castiel saw his frown. "I'm gonna talk some damn sense into him. He's been re-educated, not lobotomized. He's still in there somewhere, just under a crapload of stupid ideas."

"Are you going to ask him about John?"

Dean scoffed, but actually stopped. Castiel folded his arms over his stomach as he waited for an answer.

"Yeah," Dean said. "But I don't know if he'll give me a straight answer like this. If they went deep enough, I don't even know if he can think about something like John giving unauthorized orders. It just won't make sense to him."

"Even though he knew it all along."

"Especially because he did."

Dean turned to peer down the staircase that lay just ahead of them, leading down into Bobby's basement and, apparently, his panic room. He grimaced.

"They would've had to get in there, Cas. Sammy's nothing if not stubborn, and they did a number on him."

"He's still there enough to resist John's orders," Castiel said quietly, staring down the staircase, too. He felt Dean's gaze turn to him but he didn't look up. "I mean, that's—that's the thing, right? The thing that they tried to fix. Was Sam not listening to orders. But they didn't fix it, because he didn't kill Samandriel when he was told to."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Guess you're right."

They stood at the top of the staircase, staring down together. Dean took a step onto the topmost stair, and Castiel grabbed his arm. He stopped and and met Castiel's eyes, which were more or less even with his now.

"Are they going to keep coming for my brothers?" Castiel asked.

Dean hesitated.

"I just need to know," said Castiel.

Dean dropped his eyes and nodded, then looked back up.

"Yeah," he said. "But you're not alone, okay? Me and Sammy. We got your back."

"Even if it means no Heaven on Earth?" Castiel's smile came out crooked, he was pretty sure, but he made the effort.

Dean didn't smile in return. "John is messing with stuff, Cas, but I don't know that it means there won't be an Apocalypse. I don't want dickheads messing with my brother or my friends. But I can't promise you that you're in the clear when it comes to the end times. Okay?"

Castiel felt his breath catch again, and he just stared instead of answering. Dean sighed and stepped out of his grip.

"I've got to go see what I can do for Sammy. I'll be back up to check on you later."

With that, he disappeared down the staircase.

Castiel listened to the heavy, grating sound of the door swinging open. Heard Dean say, "Heya, Sammy," and heard the hoarse, raspy reply of "Dean." Then the door shut with a metallic thud, and he was alone.

Time passed—he didn't know how much—and a hand on his shoulder made him jump and cry out. He turned to see Bobby holding his hands up.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, gasping in breath. "I didn't—I couldn't—"

"You been standing here a while, son," Bobby said, concern lacing his voice. "Let's get some food into you, huh? Your brothers are already eating."

Castiel let Bobby lead him into the kitchen, where, sure enough, Samandriel and Gabriel were eating sandwiches. There was one on a plate for him.

He sat down, staring at it for a while. Ruby was sitting on the floor again, this time to the right of the sink. She had a sandwich, too.

"Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb still down there?" she asked, smirking.

"Shut up, Ruby," Gabriel said.

"Sam and Dean are still downstairs," Castiel said quietly as he picked up his sandwich.

"Hey, Cas, you wanna come break this Devil's Trap for me? I figure we're pals now."

"You break that Devil's Trap, boy, you'll be paintin' a new one one every tile," Bobby growled, then stood up and walked to the library, not sparing a glance for Ruby as she fixed him with a venomous glare.

Castiel began eating in silence, watching his brothers out of the corners of his eyes as they ate. Samandriel looked slightly better, although still pale, still with heavy purple circles under eyes that seemed to look too far away. He was wearing a shirt that had been Castiel's—a faded old blue overshirt, one that he remembered as being very soft. Samandriel was only two years younger than Castiel had been when he'd run, he realized. And while he had a smaller build, he was growing quickly. He would be just about filling out the clothes Castiel had left behind.

Of course, that impressed on Castiel his brother's imminent adulthood far less than braving a kidnapping and comforting a grieving angel had. Samandriel was not the child he'd left behind to Gabriel's care.

And Gabriel—

Gabriel was shaking.

Castiel frowned, turning more fully to Gabriel, who noticed the movement and caught his eye. He scowled back, taking a large, contrary bite of sandwich.

"Gabriel, are you—"

"You're gonna do this? In front of her?" Gabriel snapped, and Castiel recoiled. He didn't say anything else, but Gabriel kept going.

"You can ignore me, I'm just a fly on the wall," Ruby said gleefully, putting her sandwich down and propping her chin on her hands.

Gabriel did exactly that.

"I'm fine. Our little brother got kidnapped by one of your pet angels but I'm fine. I would cut off a limb for a hit right now but I'm fine, because Ihave to be."

Castiel tried to exchange a look with Samandriel, but he was concentrating very hard on his sandwich and very deliberately not looking up.

He shook his head and faced Gabriel. "I was just going to ask if you were okay. You don't have to—"

"And you think I don't know what okay means, Cas? You think I don't know what you're asking? You think I don't get the subtle little jabs that mean that, from your big old petty-theft-and-fraud high horse, you're judging me for using?"

"I am not—"

"I'm as fine as I'm gonna be, Cas." Gabriel put the remaining half of his sandwich down on his plate and ran his hands through his hair. "So don't ask me. Maybe you should ask your little brother. You know. The one who got kidnapped."

"He already asked me earlier," Samandriel said, but when Castiel looked over to him, concerned that he was under attack from both sides, he smiled thinly.

"Oh, God." Ruby groaned from her place by the sink, slamming her head back into the cabinets. "If this is going to be a touchy-feely sibling bitchfest, somebody exorcise me."

"Everybody's fine, Cas. Everybody's super." Gabriel stood up abruptly, his chair protesting against the floor.

The sound was echoed downstairs, and everyone stilled.

Bobby came into the kitchen. "You boys all right?" he asked mildly.

"I'm requesting exorcism," Ruby said.

"Also note that you ain't a boy," Bobby replied. "You boys all right?"

"Sexism," Ruby muttered, picking her sandwich back up and taking a big bite.

"Was that the panic room?" Castiel asked.

Samandriel nodded, looking paler than he had a moment ago.

Gabriel was tense, like a rabbit about to bolt.

A moment later Dean came up the stairs and into the kitchen, with Sam in tow. Sam's was arm slung around his shoulders, and the younger angel walked like it took every ounce of energy he had in him. Still, there was a brightness, an awareness, and a pain in Sam's eyes that made Castiel understand that Dean had brought him back.

Wordlessly, Dean brought him to the table, and eased him down onto a chair at the opposite end of the table from Castiel and his brothers. Sam slumped for a moment—he looked worse than Samandriel, skin like parchment and red eyes and tousled hair—but pulled his head up to look at them. He stared at each in turn, and then turned to Ruby.

"Thank you," he said.

She looked surprised, then suspicious, then calculating.

"You didn't have to tell Dean where I was. Where I'd brought Samandriel. Thank you for stopping me."

"Don't give yourself too much credit," Ruby said. "It was John I was really trying to screw over."

"Still."

Ruby looked at him funny, as though trying to figure out what the catch was. Sam coughed, and turned back to the Novaks.

"Samandriel," he said hoarsely. "I am so, so—"

"That's enough." Gabriel slammed his chair under the table and Sam jolted. Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and glared at Gabriel.

"My brother is trying to—" Dean said, but Gabriel laughed, cutting him off.

"Your brother kidnapped my brother and nearly killed him. I'm not interested in hearing an I'm so sorry. I don't give a shit how many so's he puts in front of it. There are things that I'm sorry can't fix, and this is one of them. So if you assholes want to do this kiss-and-make-up shit, fine. I'm leaving."

He shoved past Bobby on the way out. Castiel heard the sound of the front door slamming behind him.

"Oooh," Ruby whispered.

"Shut up, Ruby," Dean said, but he sounded too distracted to really put any force behind the command. Ruby noticed and made a face.

"He shouldn't be past the wards," Sam muttered, staring out at the door.

"I'll go get him," Castiel said, sighing as he stood. He smiled at Sam, who looked up at him through weary eyes. "It's good to see you back, Sam."

Sam gave what Castiel knew must be his best attempt at a smile, though it was weak and watery. "Thank you. I—you didn't have to say that."

"I didn't think that lying to an angel was a smart plan," Castiel replied, and Sam's smile brightened, became almost worthy of the name.

It faded when he turned to Samandriel, though. "Your brother was right. I can't—I'm sorry isn't enough. What I did to you—"

"You didn't do anything," Samandriel said as Castiel made his way out of the kitchen. "I'm okay. Everybody keeps saying stuff but you didn't do anything to me, Sam. It was John."

Castiel left the room, shutting the door quietly after himself. He took a bracing breath of the cold winter air.

Gabriel was leaning against the porch railing, trying and failing to light a cigarette with shaking hands. If he noticed Castiel's approach, he gave no indication, but kept cursing softly and snapping the lighter.

Castiel hovered by the door at first, uncertain, but finally walked over and took the lighter out of Gabriel's hands. He protested, but quieted when Castiel quickly disassembled the lighter, wiped the wheel thoroughly on his overshirt, reassembled it and handed it back to him.

Gabriel just held it for a moment, then struck it, and stared at the resultant flame.

He lit his cigarette.

"You're welcome," Castiel said.

Gabriel snorted around the cigarette that dangled from his lips, pocketing the lighter. "What, no judgy words of wisdom? How I might as well just coat my lungs in cancer cells and have done with it?"

"Everyone has their coping mechanisms," Castiel said dully, joining Gabriel to lean against the rail. "Do you have another?"

"Coping mechanism?"

"Cigarette."

Gabriel smiled ruefully and pulled the pack out of his pocket, taking another out and handing it to Castiel. "I guess that's payment for fixing my lighter." He handed him the lighter, too.

Castiel took it and spun it, peering at his brother. "Are you disappointed?" he asked.

"I mean, I guess I hoped that my bad habits wouldn't rub off on you too much. But I should've put those hopes to rest when I heard you tried to steal Sam's wallet."

Castiel frowned, lit the cigarette, and took a long drag, handing the lighter back. It had been a long time, and he felt his throat close up against the thick smoke. He couldn't stop the choking coughs, so Gabriel pounded his back to help him through it.

When he'd recovered, Castiel said, "So you are disappointed."

Gabriel inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, the grey smoke filtering weirdly in the dusty afternoon light, motes dancing through its haze.

"No, Cas," he said. "I can't judge you for anything you did. Hell, I stole enough when we were kids."

"You did?" Castiel asked, surprised.

Gabriel shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, Dad didn't always know how long he'd be gone, you know? Sometimes he wouldn't leave quite enough. Not often, just sometimes."

Castiel stared out into the salvage yard as he held the cigarette to his lips.

It wasn't something he'd really thought about—how Gabriel had been forced to compensate for their father's lack of good paternal instincts. The things he'd had to sacrifice. He hadn't thought that Gabriel might have had to do some of the same things that he had, to survive.

So he said, "I didn't know."

"I know." Gabriel grinned. "I did that on purpose."

"There was a lot I didn't know."

Gabriel sighed, then took a very long pull. "Are we gonna have this fight?" he asked on the exhale.

Castiel shook his head. "No. I understand why you did it. I would've done the same for Samandriel." He stubbed the cigarette out on the rail with a few quick taps, then dropped it to the ground, grinding it under his heel.

Gabriel watched him with cautious eyes.

"I just wish you hadn't had to," Castiel said. "I wish—I wish none of us had to be in this. I'm sorry you had to do it first. Because as much as I was upset at you for lying to me, I'm glad that you knew. I'm glad you didn't think I was crazy."

Gabriel grinned, but it was thin, watery. He clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "Hey, that almost sounded like a thank you, kid. So you're welcome."

Castiel shrugged his hand off, but he was fighting a smile of his own. "Come on. Let's get back inside. We shouldn't be outside the wards for this long, not with what we just did. I'm sure Sam and Dean's bosses won't be happy."

Gabriel made a face, but stubbed his cigarette out, too. "All right. Man, Heaven's a bunch of buzzkills."

Castiel laughed quietly and turned toward the house. "I suppose so. I hope that now you can be civil to—"

A choking noise stopped him in his tracks, and he whirled around.

Gabriel was clutching his throat with one hand, the other hand gripping the rail. His eyes were wide and panicked, his mouth slightly open, his face already pale.

"Gabriel!" Castiel cried, rushing behind his brother and wrapping his arms around Gabriel's chest. He started pushing up beneath his ribcage, trying desperately to remember the Heimlich Maneuver from the time Brady had had to do it to him. "Gabriel, come on, come on—"

He felt a warm wetness on his hand, and looked over Gabriel's shoulder, not stopping the compressions. His stomach lurched at the blood on Gabriel's chin and on his own hand.

He doubled his efforts and cried out for Bobby, Sam, Dean, anyone.

He was on the return from a compression when Gabriel pulled away suddenly.

No.

When Gabriel was pulled away suddenly. His body rocketed over the rail into the middle of the yard, where he landed on his side and skidded several feet, kicking up dust and grass. Crimson speckled the ground in a dotted line that followed his path, and Castiel stumbled down the stairs after him.

He fell to his knees beside Gabriel, who stared up at him with wide, glassy eyes. Cas, he mouthed, and a shaking hand raised up to grab Castiel's shirt.

"Gabriel, come on, hang on, sit up for me," Castiel stammered, slipping his arm under Gabriel's back to try to pull him up.

The force hit him like a brick in his solar plexus, blasting him aside with a bone-jarring pressure. He flew back several feet, and struggled to sit up, blinking the spots out of his vision.

"Well. You're either luckier or marginally more clever than I'd anticipated."

The spots slowly coalesced into the same tall man that he'd seen before, in the Amboy house, in that room downstairs. He stood above Gabriel, his legs on either side of Gabriel's waist, but he was looking at Castiel.

"John," Castiel said, then burst into a fit of coughing.

John's tight smile was poison.

"Seems like you've managed to get Sam screwed up enough in the head that he couldn't even follow a simple instruction, so I guess if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself."

"No," Castiel gasped, struggling back up to his feet. He staggered forward, and got about four steps before a flick of John's wrist sent him sprawling.

"Yes. I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place, and then you are going to do what you are supposed to do. And everything will go as planned. Do you understand?"

"Don't hurt him," Castiel begged, crawling over, hoping that John would allow that. "Please, just—take me, don't hurt Gabriel, please."

John shook his head. "I'm sorry, Castiel. But that's not how this works. Everybody's got a script here: you, me, your Hellspawn brother."

Gabriel spat blood and glared up at the angel. "Leave my brother alone," he said, choking on the words. "You fucker."

John glanced down at him, then delivered a punishing kick to his ribs. Gabriel cried out, the sound fading into a groan, and John said, "I'm sure they'll love that attitude where you're headed, boy."

The angel reached around to the back of his waistband and pulled out a knife.

It was a knife he shoved through Gabriel's heart.

Not even his angel blade—not that it would make a difference. Perhaps that was the point. Gabriel didn't need the angel blade; he was equally dead, either way.

He was human, after all, and humans die so easily.

John locked eyes with Castiel as he yanked the blade free, lifting Gabriel's body up and letting it fall to the ground.

Castiel gave a wordless cry of horror and stumbled forward, coming to his knees by Gabriel, heedless of the angel still wielding a knife above him.

"Gabriel," he whispered. "Gabriel, no, please."

John crouched down by him, across Gabriel's body, and took Castiel's chin into his hand.

"You will do as you are told, child," he said. "One way or another."

Castiel stared into John's eyes as he heard the sounds of Samandriel calling his name, Bobby yelling for Samandriel to stay back, footsteps that must have been Sam's and Dean's, but he didn't move, just stared.

"Please," he whispered.

John shook his head. "You're asking the wrong person," he said. "You know where to go."

He disappeared just as Sam and Dean reached them.

Castiel cradled his brother's body and began to weep.